#i wonder if he found this fox in his present

[sinvulkt]

All my Hero Forge figurines pictures and their corresponding links are available on Ao3 here: To Forge An Unseen Future — Chapter 3: Renard with a ’renard’ (fox)

[nouearth]

an internship at wayne interprises.

bruce wayne x m!reader headcanons.

part ii.

warnings: smut, perverted!bruce, short!male reader, shy!male reader, blowjob (reader giving), slight dubcon (?).

notes: i had bale!bruce in mind only because he looks so... good in a suit (and without one).

—to the surprise of his employees, bruce had become more present in his meetings since you started interning at wayne enterprises. previously, his inputs were typically made over phone calls, then finalized by lucius fox.

—but upon seeing you for the first time, he became smitten rather quickly.

—every day, you stood in the corner, clearly nervous and intimidated by the group of businessmen and women as they debated over decisions you couldn’t care less about. but you were always attentive, efficient in your answers on days where they happened to value your input.

—and on those days, bruce would watch the way you shift on your weight onto either sides of your feet, out of nervousness, but also because your feet ached. he would make a mental note to bring—no—demand a chair for you next time.

—then, he would find himself fixated on the most intricate details of you. the way you took in the lower lip with a small bite and licked them when you interacted with a businessman, a sign of intimidation bruce would decipher. it made his heart beat faster, watching you become so flushed at the simplest socialization.

—he wonders if he could have such of an effect on you. bruce never had a chance to introduce himself to you properly because lucius would always send you out to make some phone calls and arrange another meeting.

—it was extremely annoying, but at least he could admire the way your ass fit in those pants on your way out.

—bruce would shamefully touch himself to that brisk image under the conference table.

—you were like a piece of art under him. he would study you in silence, noting how you would look up at everyone because you were the shortest man in the room, even with insoles in your shoes. and those eyes—frightened and inexperienced—it became one of bruce’s favorite features about you.

—a sick part of him delighted in how timid you were, and he would imagine what it would be like if it was just you and him—alone.

—would you have bitten your lip like that? maybe even harder—until it drew blood—because he was the owner of wayne enterprises? how frightened would you be when bruce towered over you? even more so when he demanded for you to get on your knees and-

—it was inappropriate, bruce would guilt himself. an employee, let alone one that recently graduated university, it was unthinkable to even imagine himself with you.

—he tried to convince himself that he simply found you handsome, that was all to it. a fleeting crush.

—but overnight, you’ve become a perpetual thought.

—it became a routine for bruce to awaken in the middle of the night with an erection. and if he wasn’t stirred awake, he was kept up all night with—you guessed it—an erection.

—on the first night of many, bruce would visit your instagram, and he would then thank the lord for having your account public. you were never an outgoing person, so all you did was post your hobbies.

—and while he would love to learn more about your personality through your feed, what was more important was the situation in his briefs—tightening the more he thought about you, looked at you.

—luckily, your most recent post included a selfie, so he didn’t have to scroll very far one-handed.

—what bruce found endearing was that he could still pick apart your quiet personality from your smile—still timid and inexperienced, like how he met you—and he fondled himself to that.

—bruce would massage himself through his briefs, groping a handful of his bulge as he grew harder in his palm, gazing deep into those eyes he yearned to look into.

—your lips were parted in the photo, only by a bit, and he would imagine how they would look around his cock, specifically the head. upon examining the photo closer, a peek of your tongue could be seen, and bruce’s erection would throb.

—how would your tongue feel? would you be daring enough to even tease him with licks?

—and in that moment, he would wonder if you’ve ever done anything like that before.

—he remembered the way you interacted with people, especially with men. you would always avoid eye contact, stumble on your words when you were called upon—he concluded that you were completely inexperienced.

—and that drove him wilder.

—by then, bruce has completely stripped himself. no longer was he palming his thick cock, but stroking himself to your photo. it was shameful, bruce would admit—the lengths he would go through for arousal. but he couldn’t help it. the thought of you, completely innocent and bare before him, was a recurring image that would ink into his brain.

—he liked to imagine that you only touched your cock, because you were scared of touching yourself elsewhere. you had a dildo somewhere under your bed, but it was only used once because you were intimidated, just like how you were intimidated by the men in office earlier today—akin to a deer in headlights.

—not only that, you were intimidated by your greed. people have always said that bigger was better, right? though, you couldn’t have possibly agreed because a mere centimeter of the large phallic toy made you quit with a whimper.

—the stories in his head would run absolutely feral, and vulgar lust would quickly overcome the feeling of guilt.

—cock whore, bruce would go on to muttering himself, slapping his thick, sticky cock on the screen of his phone, specifically on your cheek and lips—a pathetic simulation of what it would look like to have his dick on you. his pre-cum would stain your cheeks, and the heavy weight of his cock and balls would part your mouth open wider than it was in the photo.

—bruce would want to make one out of you—a cock whore. though only his, because he never liked sharing. he would relish in the thought of you on your knees, looking up at him and batting your faint eyelashes as you were overwhelmed at the sheer size of his cock.

—you would be hesitant, doubtful that you could even take him in your mouth. but you would muster up the courage, comforted by bruce’s support, and do so anyways—clumsily and sloppily as his cock would push drool out of your untrained mouth.

—that’s it, fuck…

—in reality, bruce would start you off slow, gentle cascading strokes to your head as he would settle his palm to the back of it and guide you with gentle pushes and tugs.

—but in bruce’s fictional scenario, he would show no mercy.

—intimidation, the fear in your eyes made him high when he would pull his cock out, swinging heavily before it would be shoved into your innocent mouth without warning, cramping reluctancy down your throat until you would then cough out a choke.

—see? just gotta work your pretty mouth open. nothing to be scared of, hm?

—god, you’re such a good boy. bruce would add onto his mutters as he kneeled on his bed, phone laid flat between his thighs as he jerked himself over your photo. it was just like he wanted—you looking up at him with those eyes. for a brief moment, they looked pleading, desperate for him to come on your face.

—how would you want it? bruce would wonder out loud, a familiar pool of pleasure bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he worked himself harder.

—would you want your first experience with another man’s cock to be concluded by throating down a rush of thick cum? or would you prefer him to paint your handsome face white, shooting all over you until you were dripping wet in warm stick.

—you would be indecisive, bruce expected it.

—so, bruce would take it upon himself to make the decision.

—bruce would hunch forward over the phone when the meter of his rapture filled to the very brim. one arm would be used to support his position as he fucked into his tight fist, desperate and crazed at the thought of you taking him and his cum.

—it wouldn’t be long until bruce would finally come all over his phone with a guttural moan, shooting thick ropes of cum all over your face until the screen had become a sheer blanket of sticky glue.

—face, it is.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[crusty-chronicles]

Just Friends

An: Dropping this one before I watch the first episode of the live action today!!!!! Hope y'all enjoy.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" You chastised the red headed demon as you plucked another vine from his arm. Making sure to go over the injury with alcohol before wrapping it.

"Is that so?"

You met his amused expression with a glare. How this man could be so unfazed by a literal plant growing out of him, you'd never know. How he still found the energy to be cheeky was a mystery as well.

Although you knew it wasn't entirely his fault he was this injured. That damn tournament committee was partial to blame. Sabotaging Urameshi and his friends for no other reason than them being human. Betting money was another factor. Still, if Kurama hadn't been so cocky with the first demon, he wouldn't have been through hell after.

"Absolutely. You should've never fought twice in a row. Now look at you." You gestured towards the many open wounds on his chest.

"You're covered in blood. You're so damn lucky I'm studying to be a doctor." You dabbed more alcohol than you should've on a cotton ball before cleaning the scratches on his face.

A feeling of smugness when he let out a slight hiss.

"It hurts? Good. Maybe next time you'll learn to be more careful."

It was quite the sight to see. Kurama sitting obediently while you tended to his wounds. Letting you scold him without much complaint or push back. Kurama, a demon who'd lived hundreds of years with unfathomable knowledge, allowed you to call him stupid.

The most independent and arguably the most reserved, getting chewed out by a mere human.

It was funny, too. How he seemed to subtly lean into your touch. Closing his eyes while you wiped his face and releasing a content sigh when you finished. As if he were being pampered.

"You know I got injured pretty badly too. Maybe you should come clean my injuries." Yusuke called out. Though it was mostly meant to tease the fox demon.

You turned to face him at the same time Kurama's gaze hardened. A warning look directed at the spirit detective. But he could tell it wasn't really needed as you dismissed his offer.

"What am I the team doctor? I can't do all that 'magic power' stuff to heal what you've got going on." You gestured to the various brusing littered across Yusuke's body.

"You're best bet is Yukina."

"But you've got a delicate touch."

At his flirty tone you shot up from the bed and proceeded to chase him.

"I'll show you delicate!"

Kurama watched you go with a disappointed look. Missing your warmth besides him. Although he wasn't too happy with you being here, he couldn't deny being glad to have your familiar presence near him.

He had wanted to keep you far away from this. From his past that unfortunately intertwined with his present. Trying his best not to expose you to what he really was. A small part of him was still angry at Botan for bringing you here. But then again, she'd brought a prominent figure in each of his friends' lives as well. So he wasn't the only one dealing with this. He'd rather it be you than his mother wondering where he was.

Still, you were human. And a troublesome one at that. It was surprising you hadn't gotten in a brawl with a demon yet. Especially ones that were openly cheering for his demise.

You'd always been a bit protective of him. Having met as children when you defended him from being bullied for his fiery hair and oddly green eyes. Yelling and biting at the other kids until they left. Only to turn around and tell him he was gonna be your best friend from now on.

Something he thought was odd at the time. A human telling him what to do? Then again, he wasn't all that different from you in his new body. And he needed to be able to keep up appearances until he fully regained his powers. So he accepted and let you drag him where you pleased. He let you ramble about everything and nothing at the same time. He let you comfort him when his mother fell ill.

He grew to love having you in his life. Your lectures about how he shouldn't let others taunt him, even if he was fully capable of protecting himself. Though of course you didn't know that. He admired your ambition to enter the medical field so you could help the people who needed it. He looked forward to seeing your soft side that you'd only show to him after a long day.

You'd made him feel human.

Which is why he tried so hard to hide everything about his previous life from you. If you found out you'd most likely be scared or put in even more danger.

And he just couldn't risk losing you either way.

He tried cutting ties with you once, but you were a stubborn one. After what happened with Maya, he thought it was best you kept out of his life. Going as far as avoiding you. To which you responded by confronting him.

"If you don't want to be friends anymore, just tell me. Give me a straight answer instead of acting like a coward."

He was close to telling you he didn't want you around anymore, but the way you looked at him, with so much hurt and betrayal...He just couldn't find it in himself to let you go. Instead he asked you why. Why you didn't find him strange like the rest of your classmates. Why you spent so much time with him. Why it bothered you so much that he was ignoring you.

"Is that really what's bothering you? The answer should be obvious to a brainiac like you. You're important to me, Shuichi."

He realized then that you were important to him, too.

So he allowed himself to keep you around. He deserved that much for everything he's been through. Just so long as you were a part of his human life and not his demon one.

But fate had a funny way of playing things out. He should've known he couldn't keep this part of his life a secret from you forever. He just didn't expect it so suddenly.

Hearing your voice above the others shouting at him from the stands. He thought he might've been imagining it at first, but then he caught a glimpse of you from over the other demon's shoulder. The one that had threatened his mother's life with a push of a button.

He could see that you were nervous. Frustrated would have been a better word. As if you were mad he was letting himself get hurt.

You'd called him an idiot then too, after he won. Jumping down from the stadium and rushing over. Unfazed by the bloodthirsty creatures around you.

"You're such a dumbass. Making a big show out of nothing and letting that guy cut up your face. Let me see how bad it is." You scolded as you grabbed his chin and moved his head around. Inspecting the fresh slashes on his cheek.

"You're here?" He asked, still processing the fact that you were right in front of him. That somehow you managed to find your way back to him.

"Yes??? I don't think he hit you hard enough to have a concussion."

Kurama had to step away from you. All of a sudden overwhelmed because there was no way you were inspecting his injury right now. There was no way you were still treating him like nothing happened. Like he didn't just kill someone right in front of you.

"Why?" It was the only thing he could think to ask. Rendered speechless for the first time in forever.

"Why what?"

"Why are you here? How much do you know?"

How much did that troublesome reaper tell you?

"I'm here because my stupid best friend decided to get himself into trouble without telling me. Did you really think I wouldn't worry about you being gone for weeks? That I wouldn't get suspicious?" You used the sleeve of your shirt to wipe the blood off his face.

"I didn't want you involved." Came his answer. He still didn't know how much you knew. If now was the time to be completely transparent.

"Then you shouldn't have agreed to be my friend. To be honest, I'm a little hurt you didn't even bother to tell me. Let me guess, you thought I would freak out if you told me you were a demon?"

Ah, so you knew everything. Which meant so did the rest of the girls with you. He wanted to be upset at Botan's lack of ability to keep secrets, but he couldn't have been any more relieved.

"You know me almost as good as myself. Though it's surprising you're taking this so well." He allowed himself to relax in your presence. To let you continue inspecting his minor injuries.

"You really think I would care after all we've been through? For someone who's supposedly hundreds of years old, you sure are an idiot Shuichi."

"Shuichi..." He didn't know why his name sounded so foreign coming from you. Maybe a part of him expected you to call him 'Kurama' now that you knew the truth. Or perhaps he just wasn't used to hearing it when he wasn't trying to keep up appearances.

"Yeah? Do you want me to use your tough guy demon name instead? Don't wanna be embarrassed in front of your friends?" Your tone was teasing. And while he would have loved to hear his true name come from your lips, he couldn't deny liking the idea of only you having the privilege to call him Shuichi.

"No. I like it when you use my human name instead. Whatever feels natural for you."

"Alright, but you better promise not to keep any more secrets from me."

He was still cautious with you around, but it was more for your safety than anything. Though he should've been more careful with himself, too. It'd only be more stressful to you the worse he got injured. Still he couldn't promise you that he'd come out completely unscathed.

"You let that human walk all over you like the detective with his woman."

The sound of Hiei's voice brought him back to the present. Hearing the amusement that came with it at Kurama's show of obedience with you. The way he let you get after him for being careless.

"True they have a rather loud mouth, but it comes from a good place. I don't mind all that much, not when they've gone out of their way to mend my injuries. Or would you rather I go to Yukina instead?" A small jest that was made to get the three eyed demon off his back.

But Hiei knew what he was doing and wouldn't be taking the bait this time. Not when he knew he had the upper hand in this conversation.

"You'd give me the opportunity to steal your precious mate while you were distracted?" And judging by Kurama's small glare, he was right.

"... We're just friends." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. And in a sense he was. He'd never really thought of you in that light. At least, not until recently.

"Hmm." A unimpressed noise before you stumbled in.

Smiling triumphantly after having just tousled with Yusuke and an unfortunate Kuwabara who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The grin wiped off your face seeing Kurama up and about.

"Hey! Did I say you could get up and walk?!? You've lost way too much blood to be moving around! Get your ass back to bed right now!"

"I heal at a much faster rate, remember. I should be just fine." He tried to diffuse, but you weren't having it.

"You're not getting out of this one fox boy. Go lie down or so help me Shuichi, I'll knock you out myself!"

Again you'd used his human name. Who you knew him as. And despite your crude words, he could feel his heart skip a few beats.

Friends made each other's hearts beat a little faster, right?

They sometimes shared kisses with each other during a moment of celebration.

And sometimes, maybe sometimes they thought about what life would be like to wake up next to the other every morning.

"Stay with me and I won't move a muscle."

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 10

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Comet, Sinker, Boost, Plo Koon

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's Note: Things are still crazy right now, but I am managing. Thank you to everyone who has reached out. I appreciate it! This is another transitional chapter. Not much happens, other than the plot moving forward. You know, the meaning of "filler episode" really changes when you write 😅 The chapter isn't exciting or emotional, but it's still important to the overall plot and contains context for future chapters. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

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The ride over to the Jedi Temple was quiet once Cara settled on Wolffe's lap. Most children lulled to sleep by the hum of a moving ship or speeder, and Cara was no exception. Wolffe didn't mind, though. He preferred her to be asleep and peaceful than awake and chaotic. She'd been through enough already, and yet, the tragedy was nowhere near over. Not by a long shot. Deep down he knew the funeral was going to rip off every bandage he and the others had meticulously placed.

They could lie, dance around the truth, replace facts with illusion, and carefully craft misdirection, but at the end of the day, they couldn't hide it forever. The pain was painted across all of their faces. A grim truth they all knew but refused to acknowledge, even by Wolffe. No one wanted to speak it aloud for fear that maybe, just maybe, if they didn't say it, it wouldn't happen. But while trying to conceal it from Cara, they had disillusioned themselves with their own blank stares and frowns.

Wolffe gazed out the window and watched as other speeders flew by, lost in his thoughts about the future. Not many clones thought about the future, because it wasn't in their brain chemistry to look beyond anything other than their immediate present, but that changed for Wolffe after he met his wife. There was a moment where it felt like he unlocked a part of his brain. The part that wanted to survive and thrive, instead of fight and die. It was a fleeting feeling, but there nonetheless.

He was wondering, not only about the funeral, but about what came after the funeral. What would he do when he received a new assignment? He couldn't stay on Coruscant forever. No clone could. Wolffe scoffed at his own thoughts and corrected himself. Actually, the only clones who could stay on Coruscant forever were the Coruscant Guard. Wolffe thought they were lucky, even if they didn't think they were. Fox would kill to be back on the battlefield in any capacity, and Wolffe would trade his command with Fox’s in a heartbeat.

However, Fox had his own life to lead and his own things to worry about on Coruscant. That was just how life was for the clones. It was a luck of the draw in who got to be a commander and who got to be stationed where. To the Republic, all clones were the same, so to them, it wouldn't matter what clones went where, but to the clones, sometimes, it did matter. Clones who hadn't been around long enough didn't understand, and those who had, didn't live long enough after they found out.

Wolffe was pulled from his thoughts when the speeder braked as they arrived at the Jedi Temple. He peered out of the window at the towering structure and breathed deep as he felt his heart rate increase. He had never been enthralled with the Jedi like other clones; finding their religion strange and their battle tactics even stranger. Perhaps it was the deep-seeded Mandalorian genes coursing through his veins that made him wary of the so-called peacekeepers, even if Rex and Cody tried to convince him otherwise.

The only Jedi Wolffe remotely liked, or even cared about, was his own. General Plo Koon saved him, Boost's, and Sinker's lives, and for that he owed him his undying loyalty. The rest of them he disregarded. He served them as he should, like any good soldier who followed orders, but that didn't mean he had to like them or worship them. It was the Jedi that caused him to lose his first battalion, even though he alone received the demerits for it, much to his general's chagrin.

To stand at the precipice of the Jedi Temple, with the intent to leave his beloved daughter in the care of those Force-wielding wizards, that weren't his general, made his skin crawl. Even with his disdain for the Jedi, it was still better than the alternative of Cara entering the foster care system, or even worse, being left in the care of her grandparents. That thought alone made Wolffe sick. At least with this arrangement, he could come and go within the Jedi Temple without explanation.

"Do you want to put your armor on?" Comet asked from across Wolffe.

Wolffe moved his gaze from the window to look down at Cara, who was still asleep on his lap, and then up at Comet. "Whenever I put my armor on, she thinks I'm leaving."

"Understood," Comet nodded. "I'll have Aug– Warthog bring it to your new quarters."

Wolffe chuckled.

"I'll grab a box," Sinker said as he exited the speeder.

"I'll grab the other box," Boost said as he also exited the speeder.

Comet, Cara, and Wolffe were soon left alone in the speeder and Wolffe wasn't too keen on moving from his spot. The hesitation wasn't lost on Comet.

"You really don't want to do this, do you?" Comet asked.

"Would you?" Wolffe retorted, his disdain bleeding through. "Would you leave your kid with strangers? With Jedi?"

"It's not that bad," Comet said.

Wolffe huffed and looked back out of the window. "You'll never understand."

"Guess not," Comet sighed. "I'll probably die before I fall in love and have a kid like you did."

Wolffe snapped his eyes back to Comet and glared at him. "Don't get insubordinate with me, Corporal."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Commander," Comet said before leaving the speeder.

Wolffe tilted his head back against the top of the seat and groaned. He was such an idiot. Even after everything Comet did for him following his wife's death, everything he did for Cara, Wolffe still had the audacity to bite at him like he was some random shiny that stepped out of line. Pathetic. At least he continued to live up to his namesake, whether he was proud of it or not, because when a wolf is cornered, it will lash out. He needed to get his fears, anxieties, and his temper under control, and sooner rather than later.

"Daddy?" Cara said sleepily as she stirred on his lap.

Wolffe tilted his head back down and smiled. "Hi, baby."

Cara whined. "I wanna sleep."

Wolffe picked her up so she was sitting on his legs instead of laying on them, much to her protest. "Not yet. We need to get settled in our new room first, then you can have a nap."

Cara whined and wriggled uncomfortably against Wolffe as he moved along the seat towards the speeder door.

"I know," Wolffe soothed as he exited the speeder and sat her on his hip. "Daddy wants a nap too, but can you stay awake for me for a little longer?"

Cara groaned and moved restlessly in Wolffe's grasp.

"Close enough," Wolffe sighed.

Wolffe carried Cara towards the edge of the stairway leading up to the Jedi Temple, where his general and men were waiting for him. He gripped her tightly in his arms, afraid that at any moment someone was going to rip her out of his arms and he'd never see her again. It wasn't an entirely irrational fear. The Jedi took children away from their parents all of the time. What made his daughter so different from those children? What if he left her here and never got her back?

"Calm yourself, Commander," Plo said when he sensed Wolffe's trepidation through the Force. "There are no enemies within these walls, only the enemies we bring in from within ourselves."

Wolffe heeded his general's words of wisdom and steadied himself. He stared up at the daunting, durastone stairway, took a deep breath, then released it slowly. He was as ready as he would ever be, and he hadn't even gotten to the hard part yet. Nevertheless, he stepped forward, and his men stepped forward with him in solidarity. A silent march up the Jedi Temple steps towards a new normal. A terrifying new normal, for both him and Cara, but this was only the beginning of it.

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[crazycurly-77]

The bet - Chapter 1 

Once again you were in the lab with Abby, because your special access to the databases of other agencies were needed. 

As always when you were working together you laughed and joked all the time. You had quite a good time together, but worked hard nonetheless. 

Mainly you were sitting in the bullpen to assist McGee, if needed. But from time to time you were to help Abby in the lab. The two of you cherished these moments, because you had so much fun together and most of the time you could work without any orders from Gibbs or the director. 

You made it a habit that everytime you work together you will bet with each other. The last time you decided on the bet and this time it was Abby's turn. She chose a really nasty one and she was laughing her ass off. 

“Abby you're mad” you laughed. 

“Nononono, I'm not. That's my getting back at you for having to wear a pink glittering gown for a whole day!”

You smirked “you didn't have to do it” 

“Yes, I had to! Because there's no way that I will go shopping with Sheila so she can talk my ears off! This bet was a real bitchy one.”

Now you laughed so hard that tears were running down your cheeks. Sheila was a really nice girl, but she definitely talked too much. 

In fact she was a real wonder, because she seemed to be able to talk all the while without needing any breath of air. Fascinating. 

Abby grinned at you and you saw her imaginary devil's horns coming out of her head. Then she began slowly to talk

“since you presented me with such a mean bet, here's my revenge. You have to kiss Gibbs. If you do it, I won't drink any Caf-Pow for a day. If you don't, you have to watch all three Godfather movies in one go with Tony.”

You were shocked and your blood froze “that's a joke. You can't be serious.”

“Oh yes, I'm dead serious. That's the bet!” 

You blanched and your thoughts were racing. There was no way that you would survive a whole movie night with Tony watching these films. He will say every word that is said in the film and drive you crazy. 

The other option was not better in any way. Kissing your sexy silver fox boss on whom you had a crush on…that would be so embarrassing!

“That's not funny. You know exactly that I wouldn't survive watching these films with Tony!” you tried to argue. 

She smirked widely “yeah, I know. That's why I chose it.”

“Why? Because you wanted to see me dead or arrested for killing him?” you grumbled. 

“No, I want you to kiss Gibbs” she laughed. “And just to be clear: you have to kiss him fully on the mouth. A kiss on the cheek or somewhere else doesn't count.”

You looked at her absolutely dumbfounded and could only speak one word “why?” 

“I have my reasons.”

“Are you insane?” 

Before Abby could make any noise a deep voice from behind you was heard “do you want any answer to your question?” 

Gibbs strolled into the lab and stood right behind the two of you. 

He was in so close proximity that you could smell the sawdust, the coffee he was holding and himself. 

Abby grinned at you and you closed your eyes taking a deep breath to compose yourself. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would jump out of your chest at any moment. 

The challenge from Abby did nothing to sooth you. No, on the contrary. It caused you to nearly jump out of your skin hearing him so near and him being so near that his shoulder was touching yours so that your hands began to sweat profusely. 

“Whatever you two are planning…Abby, you have anything new?” he asked. 

“No, the fingerprints are not in any navy database. That's why Y/N is here. We are searching further databases and she has the access to do so.”

“Good. Phone me when you've found something,” he ordered and went to the elevator. 

“Will do!” Abby chirped and sipped on her new Caf-Pow which Gibbs brought her. 

With him being gone you let out the breath you were unknowingly holding and tried to calm down. 

“You've missed a chance” you heard Abby telling you. 

You turned around “a chance for what? Embarrassing myself and losing my job?” you were slowly getting angry because you didn't know what to do. 

“Oh! So Tony it will be?!” 

You shrugged your shoulders

“I don't know. I have to think about both options.”

“I am excited about what you will choose.”

She smirked and turned to her computer to go on with the analysis.

(To be continued...)

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

Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously

parings -> sim jaeyun x reader genre -> non-idol au, school au, hyrbid au warnings -> neglected, running away, arranged marriage, replacement word count -> 1.5k

abstract -> Don't you wanna make those dreams come true?

y/n’s perspective

“How’d it go?” Hyunsuk asked and I smiled. “Well, they didn’t agree at first but I got them to understand and even accept my little favor,” I said and he nodded. “I can’t believe your running away worked in your favor,” he said and I scoffed. 

“Just because you ran away to study music doesn’t mean we would turn out to be the same dear brother of mine,” I said and he laughed at me. “Just tell me the next time will you?” he asked and I shrugged. “Maybe I won’t, you didn’t tell me at first after all,” I said and he shrugged. 

“I guess this was payback huh?” he asked and I chuckled. “Whatever… How's Asahi doing? Already missing my presence?” I teased and he scoffed. “He’s happy you're gone~” he sang and I stuck my tongue out at him. “Immature,” he said while doing the same. He never changes. 

“I can’t believe you decided on–” “y/nnie!” I heard and faked a smile. “Hello, e/n” I said and she smiled. “Hello, oppa!” she said to my brother, making a gag… or at least in my head. “Hello, Jay,” I said and he bowed.

“Ah! Speaking of him, I finally found the perfect hybrid–”

She was such a materialist and rude bitch. Jay was one of the best hybrids I heard and yet no one wanted to keep him because he wasn’t a presentable breed. Unlike a panther, pretty fox, dog, cat, bunny, or whatever exotic hybrid out there. A bird... From the United States, he technically was exotic but… not a generalized hybrid to bring around. 

“Ah, so you’re done with your free trial hybrid?” Hyunsuk said and I elbowed him. “OW!” he said and e/n smiled. “He’s sweet but I finally found the perfect one, so if you know anyone who needs an obedient hybrid tell them to look for me. He’s for sale” she said and I had to force a smile. Jay only looked down with a sad look in his eyes. 

I really hated people like her. 

“I hope everything turns out well, I would love to see him back here,” she said and I nodded while taking his files when I ran into Jay again. Probably for class… 

“Jake? The stupid golden retriever?” he muttered and I sighed. “You know him?” I ask and he shrugs. “You want to adopt him?” he grimaces and I smile. “Yeah… he’s sweet and he needs a home,” I said and it seemed to make him sadder. “Jay, I promise there's gonna be someone who’s gonna keep you forever and they’ll probably not be from this world you’re so used to,” I said and he scoffed. 

“I’ve had too many owners I might as well be in a foster system…” he angrily muttered and I sighed. “Jay, don’t lose hope now,” I said and he scoffed. “Why? Everyone proved me otherwise… Why are you even adopting a hybrid? I never thought you would?” he asked and I pet his head. He really was a touch and loved-deprived hybrid. The desperate look in his eyes even brought him close to tears.

“It’s a complicated story to explain… but I promise, don’t lose faith,” I said and he nodded. I soon heard laughter from the other side of the lecture hall. “Sunghoon acting out again?” I said and he nodded.

“He’s been picking on that deer hybrid since the beginning of classes” he explained and I sighed.

“He can’t take out his own insecurity and anger on other people… his owner, she’s in critical condition. She’d be disappointed to see him acting this way” I said and he sighed. 

“I’ve heard him say to the other hybrids and owners say bad things about her… I wonder if he’s given up on her?” he asked and I sighed. 

“He’s just hurt… this world seems to have a lot of hurt hybrids' ' I muttered and he nodded. “There are some good ones… like Riki, he’s always been nothing but trouble but his owner loves him for who he is… it’s annoying” he confessed and I smiled. 

“I wish you lots of luck, Jay. I know there's someone for you… just don’t give them too much trouble”

“You’re such an idiot…” I said to Junghwan who was officially back in Korea. “Come on, you’re gonna talk that way to your ex-fiance?” he taunted and I flipped him off. “You’re only here 'cause you’re nosy and you’re a reference for me,” I said and he pouted. 

“So mean! I just wanna meet the hybrid who robbed me” he said teasingly and I rolled my eyes. Junghwan was taller than Jake, so that trench coat he wore was a little bug on him, otherwise I picked out a lot of stuff for him. 

“How sure are you that someone won’t adopt him before you get there?” he asked and I glared. “Cause I talked to them a few days ago when I took him back about adopting him. They’re putting him under hold for me and doing exams before letting him go” I explained and he nodded. 

“I heard rumors, you know? e/n wants to adopt a stray golden retriever?” he said and I glared at him… “Something about pissing off certain competition~,” he said and I scoffed. “Are you being serious?” I asked and he smiled. “My sources are never–” “Don’t make me call Yoshi right now,” I said and he sighed. 

“Yeah, he overheard her say that on his way back from class,” he said and I scoffed. “I know you hate her… but if he’s on hold then you’re good right?” he asked and I nodded. “Yeah, he shouldn’t even be on display so it's fine… what a bitch.” I said and he laughed. 

“Ooh isn’t this cool!” he said as he started trying out clothes for himself. He was… unserious. 

What else do I need? Clothes check… cologne check… jewelry check… accessories check… hygiene stuff check… “Did you get his collar yet?” he asked and I sighed.  “That’s what I’m forgetting” I muttered and he chuckled.

“Ooh! Can I help! I wanna help!” 

I was now sitting down waiting for him to come out when I saw a group of people I absolutely detested… “Sorry miss, but like we said Sim Jaehyun is a hybrid already adopted–” “But he’s still here!” she whined and tantrumed. “I know, Miss, and we apologize– Ah Miss y/n! Jake will be out in a bit but we need some last-minute signatures if you don’t mind” she said and I nodded. 

“How dare you steal my perfect hybrid?!” she tantrumed and I smiled. “Too bad,” I said and she scoffed. “Did you see that?! Who does she think she is!?” she yelled to her friends and I laughed. “What? Already sold Jay? Brats like you don’t deserve hybrids like them” I said and she scoffed

“Whatever! He’s not even a purebred… and he’s probably a mutt!” she insulted before stomping her red bottom heels else were… bratty girls like her with daddy’s money annoy the hell out of me. They’ll marry rich and never work… not like I’d judge but to be such a bitch makes her disgusting in my eyes. 

I already saw how she treated Jay… nor doubt she’d treat Jake the same way. As much as I felt bad for Jay, I couldn’t help myself with Jake, especially with how he acted pretending to be human. 

He’s my hybrid now… whether my parents, her, or anyone like it. 

jake’s perspective

I don’t know when I was gonna be moved but I was already away from the facility. I was no longer up for adoption… I'd never get that opportunity. 

He said I’d see her again… I really wanted to. 

I kept on having delusional dreams of her… waking up only to feel disappointed. I don’t think I'll ever see her again. Why would I? I got her in trouble… I always make a mess of things. It's why I never got adopted. I would embarrass myself or just make mistakes. Besides… I wasn’t the sweet puppy most people go for anyway. Hybrids get adopted young or… if they're exotic, purebred, or just pretty…

“You look lonely” I heard and I felt myself freeze. 

“What… are…” I was confused seeing her in front of me. She was dressed differently than when I met her and thought she wasn’t another student in that school for rich kids or scholarship students. 

“I’m sorry to cause you so much trouble” I apologize… I had to, it was my– “Huh? You didn’t cause me any trouble… you probably helped me with giving my parents a scare of their lives but, it helped me a lot” she said… I felt confused. 

She smiled and slid a paper through the kennel door. It was… my file and it said– 

“You’re adopted by me, Sim Jaehyun if you want me to?”

@ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr @starzniiky @kibs-and-bits @b3tt7boop @in-somnias-world @lol6sposts @xiaoderrrr @jihyosgfremade @b-a-nshee-blog @mimisamisasa @katsukis1wife @eggomi @thunderous-wolf @tinyteezer @lilactangerine @starfallia @sousydive @bearseulgs

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[honestlyboringperson]

Team BEST in the Persona 5 AU! Skizz looks like utter dogshit because I can’t draw muscles! Sorry Skizz!

Also yes, Etho’s outfit is partially based on @/spell-struck’s Arcana Swap AU design for Yusuke. Go check it out! Their designs are amazing.

Again, More Information is under the cut.

Southlanders

The Scottage + Gem

Fairy Fort

Magical Mountain + Cub

Bdubs - “Scout” - The Lovers Arcana - Peter Pan/Orobas

A man of short stature and an even shorter fuse, Bdubs is a college student pursuing a degree in architecture and is known for his dubious ability to immediately know what field someone should go into. Be it art, film, or even just mathematics, his judgement is never wrong which led him to be recruited into a local theatre troupe to help with casting members to roles. This causes him to befriend a certain young prodigy actor who specializes in theatrically heroic protagonists and bombastically charismatic villains.

His persona is Peter Pan who is a famous pop culture character. Peter Pan is known for his devil may care attitude and his claims of greatness. His abilities allow himself and others to fly, and in this AU, Bdubs is known for uplifting others with both his scouting abilities and work as a phantom thief. Bdubs is also quite boastful, also fitting with Peter Pan’s character.

His Ultimate Persona is Orobas, a Great Prince of Hell and a Goetic Demon. He is the patron of horses, and gives power and control over others. He also can protect people from evil spirits and is clairvoyant. No wonder Bdubs “Horsegirl Supreme” got this guy as his ultimate persona.

Etho - “Shade” - The Hanged Man Arcana - Arahabaki/Inari-Okami

Etho is a mysterious college student known throughout the campus as being aloof, quiet, and even possibly dangerous. Those close to him know he’s just socially awkward. At a young age, he is known for his inventions in engineering and was presented with several scholarships to several prestigious institutions across the city. Unfortunately, he is horrendously bad at anything that isn’t engineering, with his apartment in shambles and his diet mostly consisting of energy drinks and a wide variety of instant ramen.

Arahabaki is a Japanese god of uncertain origin, with this particular portrayal & the one in the Shin Megami Tensei franchise being mainly inspired by the forgery by Tsugaru Soto-Sangunshi. They are a symbol of treachery, rebellion, and heresy after Emperor Jimmu found his enemy Nagasunehiko worshipped him.

Inari Okami is the kami of foxes, fertility, rice, tea, and general worldly success. They are the reason several shrines in Japan have fox statues and they are known for their ability to shapeshift. Their entourage was made up of pure white kitsune, categorized as “zenko” as opposed to the malicious “yako” kitsune.

Skizz - “Knight” - The Justice Arcana - Templar/Heracles

Skizz is Impulse’s best friend and former police officer. He currently works as a construction worker, but helps Impulse with his smithing business. He was fired after directly opposing the corruption that began to spread throughout the city’s police force, and his name was slandered. Despite these tragedies, he keeps a goofy and cheerful demeanour throughout his days. Despite no longer being in the police force, he will not overlook anything he sees as harmful.

Templar, full name Simon Templar is a Robin Hood figure coined “The Saint”. His calling card consists of a stick figure with a halo, and said calling cards were often given to corrupt politicians, warmongers, and other similar low-lives. He was described as “a buccaneer in the suits of Savile Row, amused, cool, debonair, with hell for leather blue eyes, and a saintly smile.”

Heracles is a famed Roman hero, and is considered the god of strength and heroes. He is most known for his tale of the twelve labours, wherein he completes twelve labours set by King Eurystheus to atone for killing his family after Hera makes him temporarily lose his mind. These tasks were aided by his allies and finished with a combination of strength, trickery, and camaraderie.

Tango - “Blaze” - The Magician Arcana - Guy Fawkes/Nimrod

Tango is a popular novelist and D&D master, known for his works in the fantasy horror novel franchise “Decked Out”. Although the original novels were made to satisfy his own desire to tell a compelling story, he becomes severely creatively blocked and is unable to keep up with the demands of his fans. After joining, he’s trying to start fresh with a new franchise, and is currently looking for inspiration for a new novel with the help of Jimmy.

Guy Fawkes is a key figure behind the infamous & controversial Gunpowder Plot. The Gunpowder Plot was a planned regicide, with several barrels of gunpowder being hidden within or near the House of Parliament, with Guy Fawkes being in charge of the explosives. The plan was to blow up the Parliament with the King James I inside and instate a Catholic monarch to the throne. Despite the motives being questionable, the plan failed and all the offenders, Guy Fawkes include were executed for treason. Today, in celebration of the king’s survival and the failure of the plan or simply enjoying the festivities, Bonfire Night was created, with several bonfires, fireworks, and other similar events taking place.

Nimrod is the architect of the Tower of Babel and is known as a king who rebelled against god themselves. The Tower of Babel was intended to reach towards the heavens, but God struck it down and changed the language of the people so they could no longer understand each other and scatters them across the earth.

[streamstar]

POST STREAM.

"And a special thank you to all of those who donated tonight! What a thrilling stream, it came to an end too soon… Yes, yes I got a little over eager there…!" He poked at himself with the joking tone of the user. Drawing in a deep breath, the wind softly whistling between the cracks of his sweaty skin and metal, the blinding light of the monitor glazing over his intense stare, sizing up the last of the chat rolling in, chest heaving in and out with adrenaline, the screams of the unfortunate rattling through his head persistently, the malodor of iron burning into his senses… Index finger scrolling through the details of the soon-over stream, the voting board frozen in his focus.

[82% — Kill] [18% — Let live]

The man couldn't help but click his tongue to the roof of his mouth, looking over his shoulder and the mangled corpse behind him, the blood running darker with time, thick and sticky as it rolled down the tattered skin, filling the grooves of the artistic burns engraving their chest like a river to a moat, and the stringy flesh of a blown out skull, fluids oozing down their neck like a wreath. A shiver chases his nerves down his spine as his eyes thin, swallowing down the animalistic feeling in his throat before turning back to the camera with a showman's gleam in his stare. "Once again, thank you all for attending another stream, until next time… Yours truly, Fox." With his hands out, the man presented a short bow of gratitude, reaching forward to slide his mouse over to end the stream. After a moment of silence, while he wrapped things up he pulled a small black stool out from under the setup turning on its swivel to face the recently deceased victim. Reaching a hand around back to remove the mask, exhaling a heavy sigh at the cooling sensation grazing his skin, small droplets of sweat rolling down his cheeks — the silence between the two was deafening, not that the victim could talk back, though.

Rising to his feet, the sound of stiff dress shoes clacked against the hard floor as a hand tangled itself in the strands of hair that rested upon the back of the neck, cranking their head to face his own. "You did good, for the most part, you know. But you were naïve… Gullible." A clawed finger slipped itself into the gaping gun wound, and the pulpous sounds of scrambled brain matter earned a muted rumble to bubble in his throat "But they don't want your compliance, this audience is… Particular with their tastes, and you just got too comfortable." Pulling his hand from their skull, the head falling downward with a heavyweight, he rubbed the slicked-up fingers together with his thumb, pulling them apart as he watched the fluid string the digits together. Raising his hand to his face, he pulled in the scent of their decaying essence, still fresh — Sucking the fingers clean, he wiped the saliva on his bloodied pant leg before seating himself once more, a heavy hand pressing the red button on the desk, two tall men soon to arrive.

Sitting at the desk, he watched them move swiftly, unshackling them from the wall, the body quick to fall limp against the floor with a heavy thud, a few new abrasions kissing their skin before one arm was taken by each man, feet dragging along the floor into the lit hallway, quick to leave his field of vision. There he was, alone in the room once again. His ears lowered close to his head at the mess, but in retrospect, this was not half as bad, he had worse before for sure. "Should we take care of this?" A worker asked from the doorway, snapping Fox from his train of thought "… Just give me a minute." He nodded in their direction, his head may have been looking, but his eyes remained locked on the red that painted the floor and walls.

From time to time, he would wonder what came of those he sold off. Not that it was his business beyond purchase, but did any of them end up keeping them as a companion? As a beating bag? Would he ever end up keeping one for himself? He found himself running solo, a peace he had come to love. Maybe one day there will be a time where one captivates him. The thought seems redundant.

Just two days prior, this person had been begging to come home with him, pleaded and whined and cried shamelessly on the stage, their wanton pleas with an eagerness to please — no, that wasn't it… It was a grasping for survival that laced their voice. What a pitiful act, it was endearing in its own way, and they had begun to grow on him a little, a small reflection of his past as their eyes followed him with terror, obeying every word and order thrown their way like a trapped, cornered animal. It was a reflection into his own past, nearly. But he was strong, that's why he survived, that's why he's here now, sitting upon his throne. Rising once more, straightening his back, pushing his hair back with clawed fingertips before he stepped into the light, the scent of a burning body becoming obvious to him, it was a stench you can't forget, a life turning to nothing but embers and ash.

'What a shame.' The man thought. 'You could have been a star.'

[mcyt-parodies]

'its not like i like you' but boat boys lol joel is a tsundere or maybe its etho idk but they fit...im so sorry for spamming u with boat boys stuff lol hoope u dont mind

I don’t mind at all! I absolutely love them! This was super silly goofy. I hope I did the song justice? Sorry this took so long, I’m back on my grind though! Enjoy! (Also, the veil I refer to is a veil typically worn in Japan for women who work in the night life scene, I’ve seen some art of Joel with one and I absolutely loved it)

It’s Not Like I Like You: Boat Boys

Etho: "Hey! That's pretty good!"

Joel: "Wha-! No one asked you! !!!!!"

[Etho]

I've got myself just a little bit of love

That I wanna spend on you

But love, I'll never get that chance

To dance that romance with you

Oh, No, cause

You're always hittin'

And kickin' (HUGH)

And putting me down. [giggle]

I hope you don't mean what you say

[Etho and Joel] But I keep seeing you-

[Etho] stickin' around

[Etho and Joel] Like you/I can't get enough

[Etho and Joel] So I stay and I wonder

[Etho and Joel] How my hand would feel

[Etho and Joel] intertwined with yours

As of now though

Joel: "What are you doing?"

Nothing but closed doors

[Etho]

My boy’s a Dere

A Tsun-Tsundere

Just saying hi gets me a punch in the face

And if I should compliment him, he starts to chase

Joel: "Hey! That was a direct attack!"

Etho: Oh, no! The wild ogre found my hiding place!

Joel: "Stupid fox! Take it back!"

Etho: "So, uh, how’s it going?"

Girl: "Why are you talking to me!?"

Boy: "Wow, I see how it is."

Girl: "Go away!"

[Joel and Etho]

Can we get along? You're so headstrong

There's no way, go away, now so long!

Just talk to me and you will see

That's not fair, soulmates don’t matter anymore

[Joel]

I've got myself just a little bit of love

That I wanna spend on NOT you

Cuz Etho, I'm afraid you'll say

That it's not okay with you

Oh, Oh, cuz

You're always laughin', [chuckle]

And jokin';

You look like all washed up

But I hope you mean what you say

Etho: "I do."

And I wonder what you would think

If I let my pride down, let it sink

Could we hold hands, kiss?

Live our lives in some form of bliss?

Etho: "We could."

Joel: "Ah! I'm not talking about you!"

You're not my lover in this

[Joel]

I'm not a Dere

A Tsun-Tsundere

I have a heart, I'm not that mean!

I'm not blushing, I was just rushing and forgot the sunscreen!

Etho: [laughs] "Your smile is really cute, though."

Joel: You'll never see it from underneath the veil I now wear!

Etho: [sigh] "Alright. I just wanted to let you know."

Joel: "Uh-um hey..."

Etho: "Yeah?"

Joel: "Um-"

Etho: "Are you okay?"

Joel: "Yeah, um- well heheh."

[Joel and Etho]

Hey, hey are you free-free today?

Oh ho ho. Why do you want to know?

It's not like I like you okay!

Alright cool, where do you want to go?

[Etho]

We could go out on a boat and sail

Find a fox and

Feed it some juicy sweet berries

Joel: "No that sounds really stupid."

Okay well how about a;

Classic dinner by candlelight

Or scary stories til midnight

So then I could hold you tight

Ba da ba da ba

Joel: "And get bread crumbs on me?! No Way!"

[Joel]

Ooookay I think you're a little dense

I really don't like all this talk

You and I in the present tense

Ba ba da ba da

So listen here, boy

It's all just a big fantasy

You see inside of your head! No!

So just say goodbye!

Etho: [sigh] "Eh-whatever."

Ba ba da ba da!

[Etho and Joel]

I'm not a Dere

A Tsun-Tsundere. (My boy’s a Dere a Tsun-Tsundere)

Hey! I can kick your butt even in this dress!

UH! I digress! So let's just go to the park I guess

Joel: "Pffffft!You wouldn't even know what to bring."

Oh, come on, will you please just say yes!

Joel: "Ugh geez fin. It's not like I'll enjoy it or anything. You’re so obsessed" [giggle]

[abigailmoment]

"I'm worried about fucking things up between us. He's...words. Words," Tav muttered, making absent come-hither motions as if trying to summon the right ones. "Delicate's wrong. Maybe fragile? Fragile like a smokepowder bomb. But that's wrong too. Wounded. But that's not enough. It's like he's walking around with a bunch of scabbed over stab wounds. But he's had them forever and he's so used to them he can walk around, and backstab people, and laugh. But they're still there and they're fucking stab wounds and I can tell when they're being jostled."

"Do you know how he got them?" Halsin asked.

"Parts of it," Tav said. "I am making plans to commit murder when we get back to Baldur's Gate."

Her eyes flicked up to Halsin's face to make sure there was no judgement there. There wasn't.

"I have lists," she continued. "Of possible tactics. Notes. Diagrams. Some doodles." Full text below. Full text on Ao3.

Halsin walked into the woods until the sounds of the revel had faded behind the sounds of leaves. Then he settled comfortably, leaning back against a birch tree, and just looked out.

The colors of the forest were muted in darkness, but it was alive with shapes and sounds. The protecting spread of branches above, and the stars peeking down between them. Cricket chirping and owls with opinions. The world sounded green and alive, and that was very wonderful. Just being present here was like a blessing after so long in a dungeon.

It was hard to say how long he'd been sitting, almost slipping into reverie, when he noticed a pattern in the movement of the animals around him. There were a lot of them heading east. A fox passed him. A racoon. Another fox. A pair of hedgehogs complaining to each other about how two-leggers were always making such a fuss of noise about nothing.

The party he'd left was southward, so this would be something else bothering them. Investigating such disturbances was so much a habit for him that he barely thought before standing and walking quietly west.

He heard the hard crunch of boots crushing leaves--someone moving rapidly and with no thought to noise. He approached the sound and found Tav. No longer at the party, she was pacing back and forth between two trees, muttering to herself. Occasionally she stopped and said 'Fuck!' very quietly but very sincerely. Then she resumed pacing.

Halsin waited, but she didn’t notice him. He took another step and intentionally found a branch to break underfoot. Tav started and her eyes snapped towards him.

"Hi," she said, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. Was this...were you using these woods? I can move."

Halsin put up his hands. "There's green enough for everyone. I just happened by. Is something troubling you?"

"I. Uh." She raked her fingers through her hair once. Twice. "I'm in trouble."

"I see.” Halsin had a few guesses about the kind of trouble that drove one to pace and mutter in the night. ”Do you want to speak of it?"

"I. Maybe. That might be..."

She hesitated. She started pacing again. Got three steps and stopped. She was worrying the base of one horn with her nails. Finally she seemed to come to a decision and turned to actually look at Halsin.

"If you had to pick, out of all of my companions. With whom do you think it would be the worst idea to get..." She made a mixing tangling motion with her fingers, and eventually supplemented the gesture with the words: "...emotionally involved?"

"I feel I would need to know them better to answer confidently," Halsin said.

"That is a thoughtful, charitable sort of a thing to say," Tav allowed. "But I bet you don't actually need that. I'll give you a hint. It's NOT the woman who could set me on fire with a hug."

Halsin took a moment to consider, but based on superficial observation the answer did seem obvious.

"Astarion?" he guessed.

Tav clapped her hands together in a pantomime of celebration and then pointed her fingertips at him. "You're good at this game. Your retroactive prize is being saved from goblins."

Halsin smiled slightly. "I'm glad I guessed right."

"Yeah, me too." Tav sighed. She was rubbing her hands together and staring off to one side. "We were flirting. It was a game. About saying stupid, over the top things that we both knew we didn't mean. And he had all these great-awful pickup lines and we were getting more and more dramatic. And then. And then he looked at me and he said 'I love you.'"

Her hands were in her hair again, raking over her horns. "And he did NOT mean it. But my heart did that little thump-thump-leap thing LIKE he meant it."

She stared hard into the dark woods, hands tangled in her increasingly wild hair.

"And that is a PROBLEM," she whispered.

"Is it?" Halsin asked.

"Yes." She snapped, eyes focusing back on Halsin. "Yes, that is a problem. Because the things I have to offer are effective group management techniques and limericks. And if I lose my head over the most mother-would-not-approve albino bad boy who is part of the team I have to handle I will stop being an effective group manager. Then all I have to offer is limericks. And they ARE magical limericks. But they still aren't going to save the realm from the Absolute. Which is apparently what we need to do."

Then she had to stop because she had not paused to breathe for that entire paragraph. Her hands were moving again, nails raking over her horns to the point where Halsin was concerned she might hurt herself.

So he reached out to take her by the hand and shoulder and suggested with gentle pressure that she might sit down. They ended up cross-legged in the grass. A much more stable and grounded position. Tav exhaled slowly, and looked up at him.

"Hi," she said. "Sorry."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he told her. "It seems you are taking a great deal of responsibility on to yourself."

"I've read a lot of epic legends, Halsin." There was something haunted in her expression. "I'm really starting to think we're in one. I think the things we do here are going to have some far reaching consequences."

"I see," he said. And he supposed a bard would know. "Very well then. Grave as they may be, let's set aside your responsibilities for a moment."

She seemed very gesture-prone, so he decided to illuminate this advice with motion. He moved his hands, as if gathering his responsibilities up into a bundle. He carefully set them down to his left.

Tav seemed wary to the point of intimidated by the prospect of setting her responsibilities aside, even metaphorically. But after a moment she imitated him, and she did so with all the buy-in of someone whose arcane magic was partially based on improv. It took her quite some effort to get all her obligations wrapped up and when she shifted them to the side it was with a little huff of effort. Halsin couldn't help but smile.

"How do you feel?" he asked when she was done.

"Scared," she said. She was fretting her fingernails in the same way she'd been fretting her horns before.

Halsin rumbled in an understanding way, but didn't say anything.

"I like him," Tav continued after a moment. "A lot. He's fun. He's sharp and interesting. And talking to him is like playing. And he's mean, but that's fun too. And he's VERY pretty."

She dropped her head to the side, as if she needed a moment to recover from just how pretty he was. Then she rubbed at her eyebrow.

"And sometimes...he's sad. And then I wish I were a wizard so I could just incinerate everything that makes him sad."

Halsin nodded. "I believe there are scrolls for that."

Tav's eyebrows shot up and she looked at Halsin sharply. "Did you just...are you enabling me? To do an arson?"

"To protect people you care for?" Halsin asked. "Most certainly."

The surprise melted away and she smiled slantwise at him. "I suppose I should have expected that after seeing you maul half the goblin camp."

He nodded, and it was a pleasant moment of mutual understanding. He let it lapse into silence so that she would start to fill that silence again with her fretful thoughts. She did.

"I'm worried about fucking things up between us. He's...words. Words," Tav muttered, making absent come-hither motions as if trying to summon the right ones. "Delicate's wrong. Maybe fragile? Fragile like a smokepowder bomb. But that's wrong too. Wounded. But that's not enough. It's like he's walking around with a bunch of scabbed over stab wounds. But he's had them forever and he's so used to them he can walk around, and backstab people, and laugh. But they're still there and they're fucking stab wounds and I can tell when they're being jostled."

"Do you know how he got them?" Halsin asked.

"Parts of it," Tav said. "I am making plans to commit murder when we get back to Baldur's Gate."

Her eyes flicked up to Halsin's face to make sure there was no judgement there. There wasn't.

"I have lists," she continued. "Of possible tactics. Notes. Diagrams. Some doodles."

"Could your plans use a bear?" He asked mildly.

Tav laughed, and it was loud and startled and genuine. "Yes. Fantastic. Always. I'll incorporate you into my ideas and daydreams."

The laughter did her good. When it finished the thread of tension loosened and her shoulders had relaxed a notch.

"I probably don't need to worry about hurting him with this," she said a little ruefully. "He's not serious. This is a game for him? Or a ploy? I'm not sure. Whichever. I'm the only one throwing her heart around like an idiot."

Halsin, who had been at camp long enough to observe some of the dynamics between the companions, decided not to comment on some of the assumptions she was making. He just made a thoughtful noise.

"So I guess that just leaves me scared about, you know." She flicked her fingers over her sleeve, removing a bit of dirt with affected casualness. "Getting hurt myself."

"It can be a frightening thing. To be the more loving one," said Halsin. "But it doesn't need to be a bad thing."

Tav hummed in a prompting, curious way. Halsin considered what he was about to say, and decided this was a reasonable time of have an opinion.

"We give each other what we can in the time we have," he said. "You have a gift. You have love for another person. A man who, from what you've said, could very much do with being loved."

Tav hummed a little more softly.

"That's nice," she said. "That's a bit of poetry."

"Pardon me. I know it's not my profession."

"Naw." Tav shook her head. "Anyone can be a bard. Just don't be surprised if I steal your words for lyrics."

Halsin opened a hand and offered his palm. "They are freely given."

"Boring," Tav complained with a smile. "I wanted to steal them."

"Well then." Halsin closed his hand. "I take back my permission."

"Good. Thank you." The smile had wedged itself firmly in the side of her face and remained even as she sighed. "I guess I'm already fucked. It's not like you can fall out of love. Not while we're spending every day together."

She covered her face with her hands and said much more quietly: "And I do not have the willpower to say no to the sex."

Halsin nodded and made a noise of deep understanding. Eventually, Tav peeked up from her hands.

"You're really good at listening," she told him.

"It is an important part of being an archdruid."

"Thank you."

"Please let me know if you ever need to be listened to again."

[haileyywrites]

Summary: Tales of a mystical kitsune wandering the forest at night causes Kabukimono to go out and try his luck, for it is said they grant wishes to those who brave the night. His situation quickly turns dangerous, yet he is saved by the very person he was looking for...

Pairings: Kabukimono/Kunikuzushi x Kitsune!Reader

Notes/Warnings: Reader is completely gender neutral! Poc friendly! Platonic! Found family type of fic! Not cannon, basically an au! Not meant to be lore accurate! Little angsty possibly, but mostly just fluff! LONG!! Possible grammar mistakes you can point out!

“Have you heard? There's apparently a kitsune in the woods who can grant any wish!” An eager man gushes.

“A kitsune? Like Lady Guuji from Narukami Shrine?” Another asks.

“Yes! But this one can grant wishes!”

“Sounds like baseless rumors to me...” The other man dismisses his friend.

“Its not! Remember that beggar who hangs around here sometimes? He's now gone and rich I've heard!” He boasts.

“He could have just left and found a job, what exactly proves he's rich now? He's not even here.” The sceptical man questioned.

“Don't believe me if you don't want to, but it's true!”

Kabukimono had been listening to the two converse for some time now, he was completely entranced by the man's story and couldn't hold back any longer as he approached the two men. His eyes were glimmering with hope that the story was indeed true!

“Excuse me! Can you tell me more?” He asked shyly.

“Don't believe him, kid. He falls for these kinds of hoaxes easily.” The other man warned.

“No I don't! Anyway, it's said you need to go into the woods at night with a full moon and ask for the kitsune to appear with sincerity. If you're deemed worthy they'll appear and grant your wish!”

“Wow!” Kabukimono couldn't help, but be in awe at the thought of such a being existing.

“To me it sounds like something made up to lure fools into the woods at night to ambush them.” The other man sighed hopelessly.

“Hey, kid. If you do find the kitsune be sure to come back and prove this fool wrong!” The man smiled.

“Uh, sure!” He awkwardly answered.

Kabukimono of all shouldn't trust the words of humans or the deeds of mystical beings resembling gods, but... If there was a chance it was true then he had to take it! It wasn't like he had anything to lose if it wasn't true, but everything to gain if it was.

Every night he gazed at the dark star littered sky hoping to see the full moon shining above brightly, but only various states of crescent would show up. He waited inpatiently until the large full moon finally presented itself, he immediately rushed off to the direction the man had pointed him to.

The dark had never particularly bothered him before, but when all alone in a forest at night it was sure to make anyone anxious... The wildlife was surprisingly scarce and it was almost eerily quiet, only his own footsteps making the faintest noise. He felt like his every move was being watched by someone unknown, almost as soon as he had stepped into the dark he felt someone had their eyes on him.

Kabukimono's eyes darted from one direction to another as panic slowly settled in, he had no idea where he was going. He was all alone in the dark, all alone in a forest at night, he was all alone. Or was he? Which one was more terrifying, he wondered as his mind began racing with terrified thoughts he couldn't control. He could feel a cold sweat wash over him as his limbs began shaking.

“Wait!” He shouted before hurrying off to the direction of the animal.

Suddenly a unique looking kitsune fox jumped from the bushes before him, it delicately tilted it's head at the scared boy. He forgot all about his worries as he stared at the beautiful animal that didn't fear him in the slightest it seemed. It's eyes looked almost human as it softly gazed at him, but seeing as he calmed down soon enough the fox began walking away towards an unknown direction in the forest.

“Hey, kid!” A familiar voice called from the sidelines.

Confused Kabukimono turned towards the man who told him the story earlier that day in the village, the story that led him here in the first place. The sceptical man was behind the storyteller and was looking rather... uncomfortable for some reason. Perhaps he too didn't like treading through the dark forest at night.

“Oh, hi.” He answered before turning to look around for the fox.

“Whatcha looking for?” The man questioned.

“I saw a stranger kitsune, but I lost it...” He sadly answered.

“A strange looking kitsune?!” The man asked with excitement.

Kabukimono only nodded without paying much attention to the pair as he was still hoping to encounter the fox again, or at least find it's trace. As he wasn't paying attention the man grabbed his shoulders tightly before turning him around, his wide eyes gleamed in a terrifying way.

“It must be the one who grant's wishes! Oi, bring the rope! Did you see where it went?” He spoke quickly.

“Um, no... I lost it.” He answered quietly.

“What a bother...” The man sighed, but still didn't let go of Kabukimono's arm.

In fact - he held on tighter as the other man brought the rope that was requested earlier. Before Kabukimono could do anything he was wrapped tightly with the rough rope and tied against a large sturdy tree. There was nothing he could do to stop them and moving while bound so tightly burned against his skin.

“What are you doing?!” He asked in a panicked tone.

“Sorry, can't let you steal my wish kid. But thanks for leading us this far.” He grinned wickedly.

“Can we go already?” The uncomfortable looking man asked with a guilty look on his face.

“Yeah, yeah! Here.” He dropped a small pouch of mora on Kabukimono's lap. “For your help.”

He stared at the pouch on his lap with a hopeless expression... He was once again betrayed and he didn't even know their names. No matter what it seemed he was cursed to be forever betrayed and abandoned by not only people he knew, but also those he didn't. What a joke of an existence. He reached out for a glimmer of hope for his miserable life and he gets stabbed in the back.

“What a typical human thing to do.” A voice from the darkness said.

“Who's there?!” The man called out.

“The one you have supposedly been seeking.” Thry answered, but still didn't reveal themselves.

“The wish granting kitsune?!” The men asked in unison.

“O, mighty kitsune! Please grant my wish and bring me fortune! My wish is heartfelt.” He kneeled down with his hands up in prayer.

“You'd be better off begging from the Shogun herself. I will only warn you once - leave.” Their cold voice said.

“What?” The dumbfounded man asked.

A deep sigh was heard before their figure stepped out from the darkness, their every feature now illuminated by the moonlights glow. The pointed ears, hair and tail were the same color as the mysterious unique kitsune he had seen earlier - there was no mistaking it. Especially those chilling eyes that glared at the two men, they were so warm and gentle just a moment ago as they comforted him...

“Enough! I gave you enough warning and chances to leave, now I'll make you do so.” Their chilling voice spoke as their eyes began glowing.

Whatever happened next Kabukimono wasn't entirely sure as he quickly closed his eyes and turned his head away in - fear? He wasn't entirely sure, but he didn't want to witness whatever it is the kitsune did to them. Only when everything went back to the serene silence and he felt his restraints being pulled off did he open his eyes. Those warm and gentle eyes you had earlier had returned as you carefully removed the ropes from around him.

Out of instinct he jumped away since you were so close to him, but when he looked closer he could see you were caressing the tree he was previously bound to. The bark had slightly worn off in some places but overall it wasn't bad at all thus a gentle smile graced your features. It came as quickly as it dissapeared when you stood up and turned towards the the unconscious men.

“Humans are so bothersome, they always seek for the easy way out. Riches, beauty and eternal life...” You mutter bitterly to yourself.

“Tell me then, what is you seek?” You turn your gaze to the frightened boy.

He stayed silent before looking away from your intense stare, he stays silent as he thinks hard about your words. To wish for anything... What is it he truly seeked the most, wanted the most, longed for the most? He honestly hadn't thought that much or far ahead, despite being the creation of a literal god he had doubted your existence. Something as good as you couldn't possibly exist in the same world he did.

“A family, a home, a purpose... I'm not sure.” He quietly answered.

“Hmm... I'm not sure if that's something a simple wish could grant. It seems like something you have to create for yourself.” You answered honestly.

“...” The boy looked at you with sad yet strikingly beautiful indigo eyes. “Do you really grant wishes?”

“No. Nor have I ever heard of one that does.”

Your answer only made him more sad to the point he had tears brimming in his eyes. It didn't bring you any joy in saying it to him, but you didn't want to get his hopes up again in risk of him continuing to put himself in dangerous situations for the possibility of wish granting kitsune that didn't exist. You could never be fully sure, but kitsune were rare as it is so if such a being existed you would surely know of them.

“Follow this path down and you'll return to the village you came from.” You pointed behind him.

You turned your back to him and began walking away for the second time that night. You had nothing to offer the poor unfortunate boy, despite how much you might have wished to help him... You quickly came to a halt and froze in place as something cool latched onto your hand, turning back you could see the boy holding onto you with tears still brimming his round eyes.

He didn't need to say a word as you understood what his eyes were silently telling you. He had nowhere and no one to return to. He was silently begging you to take him with you, to not leave him like everyone else did. You were not particularly fond of humans due to their nature, but who could possibly say no to him?

“I see...” You said before gently holding his hand in return. “Say, have you ever visited a youkai banquet? The full moon is still high in the sky and they love to party during such nights.”

The boy wiped his tears away and shook his head to say no. “Then you're in for quite an eventful night.”

You smiled brightly as you walked hand in hand deeper into the forest. The youkai could be too energetic, loud and brash for you sometimes, but Kabukimono was clearly in need of company like theirs. You could endure it for one night to see that boy with a smile on his face.

A/N: Comments, likes and reblogs / any feedback is hugely appreciated <33

[throwaway-yandere]

The Fox Hunt (Yandere Mafia!Cyno, Tighnari, and Alhaitham/Reader)

A very brief summary of chapter 2 for those who had to skip due to CWs: You had been bottling your grief. You hired Alhaitham as an underboss and he tagged along when you negotiated with Diluc. (Thanks to his presence, you avoided getting kidnapped by the Visconti). When you visited the church, Rosaria offered to help you track Tighnari down and Cyno shared his story about losing his younger brother later on. At night, you decided to visit your old underboss's grave. An old friend, Dainsleif, found you in the cemetery, and helped you finally cry your eyes out for all the lives you lost that day.

CW: yandere & religious themes, mafia syndicates (therefore guns, violence, etc). Possible major character death. THIS IS AN INTERACTIVE FIC: YOUR CHOICES MATTER.

"O Capo! My Capo!" - Chapter 3

Previous chapter

—----

[4 years ago:]

"You seem to be stealing fleeting glances earwards the whole time I've been leafing pages."

"Ah, so you've noticed." You spoke sheepishly. "My apologies, Professor, but your ears are…"

Tighnari's ears boastfully straightened as he shrugged with a tiny smile.

"They do not feel as nice as you're imagining. They honestly just feel like any regular cat's or dog's."

"Your behavior says otherwise." You said. "But it's deserved. You groom it every other hour, don't you?"

"Hah?"

On a late 1910s night, renowned writer Professor Tighnari prepared his next discussion in the Innamorati Familia’s mansion. 

Why inside such a dangerous place? Well, what is Teyvat without corruption? The Syndicates remained in control for most of Teyvat, and no military forces can quell their power. It reached a period where people cannot envision life without these organizations as detrimental to society. No man can exhaust the flames that burn brightly amongst the Fatui mafiosos, and should they try, they'll only find smoke in their wounded chest. 

Professor Tighnari joined the Innamorati Familia when several academics from his university inexplicably vanished. The fox believes they'll target him next based on their trend of research topics. He initially gave his services in exchange for the security of his research, but unanticipatedly discovered that everyone in the Familia has values, culture– precious lives of their own. They were kind people who simply had a penchant for violence. As strange of a revelation as it may sound, they lived their lives hurting as little as they could with their religious restrictions upheld by their capo.

Not long after that, the hitherto snarky professor had become close friends with the aforementioned boss.

"Don't think I don't notice that every time I'm about to enter the room, you brush your fur like you're five minutes late to a party." 

"I-I just wanted to look presentable, that's all. Do you think I'd show up to work with bed hair? Who am I? Dimitri?"

Aware of his sharp tongue but lacking the means to keep it in check, Tighnari accidentally insulted your underboss. The hairs on his body stood and he was ready to make a fool of himself by offering an apology, but your usually unreadable resting face looked warm.

"Mhm. Sure. I'll choose to believe that." Without hiding your curiosity, you turned back to his ears. His ears were not touched, despite your hands being close to his head.

"A-as you should." Fortunately, Tighnari is good at masking his emotions. If cowardice overcame him, he would encounter a blade's glimmer rather than your gaze. Tighnari digressed by returning to his books while maintaining the illusion that his thoughts were clear.

"Alright then. Platonically, can I pet you?"

"... Excuse me?"

"You're one of those Vulpes who always wondered why close friends would think touching your ears would make you angry right?" You told him in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. 

Tighnari is a smart man, yet he is unable to understand how your mind may go in circles and still arrive at a logical conclusion. He did ask, but it didn't make sense.  You sincerely advised him to give up most possessions and gain a new perspective from the experience when he sought guidance on how your deduction functions. There is no way in hell that he would act in that manner.

You continued. "I'm just skipping that whole step. So, are we intimate enough for me to run my fingers through your hair?"  

Tighnari snorted. "Phrasing, Capo."

"So, am I a close enough friend to touch you in that special area?"

"You'll never get me flustered– I might just bite you instead if you keep testing me."

"What a major shame."

Your gaze lowered to the pages he was writing. Tighnari is a well-known botanist at the University of Teyvat, a public university for bright students with limited financial resources. His intricate writing style regarding the fundamentals of bryophytes speaks volumes. You doubt that students can understand what he jotted down, but then again, Tighnari's an effective communicator.

In all honesty, you hated those books, not because of their contents, but because of the memories laced within them.

These were the type of pages you sift through in hopes that you will be the one to decipher a cure. Dottore used to help you sort through whatever books were more easily digestible. Nowadays staring at something related to moss feels akin to reading about an end of a long relationship. It was fun and exciting, but ultimately the compatibility led nowhere. As much as you want to tell him that he should take his research elsewhere, he'd probably reply with a sassy "Or what? Are you going cage me?" reply. Simply not worth the effort or time.

He cleared his throat, his cheeks dusted in a pinkish hue. "Whatever. You can pet me if y–"

"Mosses huh? Why this area of study?" Those words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Tighnari tucked his tail underneath his chair, his eyes unblinking. 

" … I have a theory."

You nodded, recognizing the shift in his tone. "Go on."

"The Goddess of Flowers often described in their books that Sumeru's mosses have an intricate healing property in them that can only be harnessed by those who are as knowledgeable as the Scarlet King."

"I never thought you were a devotee."

"I'm not," Tighnari answered. "I only believe in Gnosticism when it benefits me."

Spoken like a true University of Teyvat graduate.

"But phytotherapy is a rather complex and time-consuming field– why focus on this?"

"And why does a Capo like you know that?" Tighnari asked, and you digressed immediately to avoid him probing on things he need not know.

"–Our familia is doing fine, Professor. Hmm... Is there someone in particular that you're praying for good health–"

"You have Eleazar, don't you, Capo?"

You knew it. He saw the recollection in your gaze when you glanced at his books. You weren't surprised that he figured it out quickly. You were just waiting for him to confess that he knew your condition. However, you just didn't expect him to ask at that very moment.

This time, you patted his head without asking, tracing your fingers around his fluffy ears. You grinned. Your smile was just a centimeter off and your shoulders were square; neither of those rigid signs sent him a positive response. The way you held his ears was restrictive, far from the quote-unquote "platonic" gesture you offered earlier. Your soft chortles sent chills down his spine and your glare froze his nerves akin to Snezhnayan rivers.

"Hoping to sell that information, Vulpes?"

"Of course not!" Tighnari was shocked to hear himself raise his voice. "I'm not stupid."

You hummed and pulled your hand away. Tighnari may have acted tough, but you knew he was shaken by that exchange. 

Oh well, it's not like you were being serious. 

You just did that so you can hold his ears. (By the way, he lied. They're even fluffier than most animals.)

Unbeknownst to you, Tighnari found your touch enthralling. He shook by an entirely different reason compared to your assumption.

Talking to you was addictive. Tighnari could take his studies elsewhere, but what's the point if you're not there?

He chuckled.

Save for the low-volume classic jazz the fox played in the background, you both indulged in the comfortable silence of each other's presence. An atmosphere as cozy as this makes it tempting to brush your cheek against his shoulder and flutter your eyes shut– but the dawn hasn't crept in and you will not be deterred from your sleep schedule. Tighnari's pleasant pen strokes came to a halt, releasing you from your trance.

"Capo?"

"... Yes?" You sucked your yawn in.

"If– If I told you I could find you a cure, but I'd have to sell my soul for it, what would you do?"

"Easy question: don't."

He was taken aback. Tighnari did not expect that answer.

"But why?"

"I know that look in your eyes, Tighnari." You shifted on the sofa, doing your utmost to stay awake. "Those were the same eyes Dimitri had when he killed his step-sister. That's the gaze of a feral animal. You're part of my familia, Tighnari– I'm not letting another fratello of mine lose himself to greedy impulse."

"What if–"

"No."

You spoke dangerously low in the tone Tighnari hears when you interrogate those who were chained in your basement. This was not the voice you used to talk to your men. This (Y/n) was not just commanding– this Capo was daunting and domineering. And he would loathe being at the receiving end of your torturous whip and fingers.

Suddenly, Tighnari had an epiphany.

Before he could save a kind friend, the professor would have to save a cold-blooded murderer first.

"Alright. Fine then. If you don't want to be the patient who'll help me get a Nobel Prize then have it your way." Tighnari joked, but his mind was made up.

He won't do as you commanded. 

"But don't think I'll stop studying mosses. The world doesn't revolve around you, Capo, I still have many to save."

And just like that, he retired for the night. 

Once upon a time, these half-asleep conversations were routinely done in order to check up on one another. A Capo is the busiest person one could be in Snezhnaya, and it warmed his heart to know you allot some time for his mundane conversations. But these heartfelt gestures are now mere ashes behind Tighnari.

Never to return.

—----

[Morning, 1 AM:]

The Fatui Headquarters is a daunting place.

Filled to the brim with murderous sociopaths, no sane man would act juvenile amongst your crowd. This room never fails to make you feel small. Everyone, from 2nd to 10th, showed up dressed to the nines with capes and fur, which was slightly less grand than the funeral clothes everyone wore for La Signora. Their extravagant yet sensible winter attire contrasts sharply with your unimpressive standard Prussian-blue coat in the sea of whites and blacks.

"Can't believe you showed up."

You turned to face the front. Scaramouche, in his custom-made Kasa hat, sat on the opposite end and sneered with disdain.

This gremlin never took a shine to you. The feeling is mutual. Whenever he utters a nasty word, the impulse to clothesline him to the nearest tree arises.

"It's not a habit of mine to miss meetings, it's not gonna change now no matter your wishes, Scaramouche."

"You dare use that tone against me? Remember who you are talking to, number eight."

As the 8th Capo– higher only for Tartaglia (10th) and the 9th– you were looked down on by the rest of the Harbingers. Had the 1st rank not been filled by a fellow Khaenri'ahn, Archons know how mistreated you would've been. 

"I have a firm grasp of my identity. Never have I shared your indecisiveness, number six." You spat. "What about you? Have you decided on whether or not you're human yet?"

Everyone knows that Scaramouche may not even be human, but no one would open that can of worms other than you. 

He crossed his arms.

"Maybe after you figure out whose fault it was that your men died, you… or that fox?"

"SHHH!!!" Tartaglia shook his pointer finger near his lips. When he noticed you staring, he donned his best brotherly smile. "H-Hey (Y/n), what do you think about the rising inflation in Mondstadt City?"

Tartaglia actively avoided talks about the Innamorati Arson Incident. It's been days and he has not once brought it up. You recalled how when you first visited his manor, he asked about your experience in the church of Sumeru– and it was solely focused on what happened AFTER the incident. 

… Now that you think about it, he probably made those stupid jokes about Alhaitham that day because he didn't want you to look so grim.

"More problems with their funds, considering how most of it is all gone." The shorter man managed to still find a quip along the way. "Honestly, why are they even here? Shouldn't they go back to selling matchsticks by now?"

You visibly stiffened.

"Shut it, Scaramouche." Arlecchino interjected with a sympathetic yet mildly condescending outlook. "They're still a Capo through and through, even if they're past their prime."

Prime.

That's how they referred to the Dottore who had never taken a dose of canned knowledge. The youthful and composed Dottore you were once friends with.

You've always dealt with the very murky morality of your line of work by contrasting the transgressions of your coworkers. At least you went through rehab and detox when you were hooked on heroin. Meanwhile, he hasn't done anything other than feed his addiction. Truly, Zandik is fortunate to receive a wage that exceeds his necessities.

You and a monster like him are not so different, not anymore. He is no longer human; instead, he is a corpse that runs back home covered in more scrapes than on his previous visit. As for you? Well…

Batting your eyes, you scoffed breathlessly. Are you really past your prime? Words failed to come up when you tried thinking of a retort, and perhaps that was for the best.

Finally, the man of the hour entered the room. 

Like many Khaenri'ahn kids, you formerly held Pierro in high regard. He was the gleam of hope that even impoverished and orphaned immigrants might change the tides, even if it was in a world other than their home country. For most, he's the one who would nod his head upward. Pierro, the first Khaenri'ahn Capo, was the hero in the eyes of your younger self who lived off thanks to the table scraps of your even younger foster siblings. Tsaritsa knows you fumbled on your first meeting, and you were proud that was the only time you embarrassed yourself in front of him.

Considering how things are now, it certainly wasn't the case.

Pierro took a proud stance and showed no remorse for what had happened to you. His gaze veered in your direction. At that very moment, if you had been blinking, you would have missed the disappointed expression on his face. He promptly rotated the whiteboard after removing his sheets from his folders.

You stood up. "Lord Pier–"

"Let's start."

You sat back down again.

The entire meeting was a blur. You felt like you weren't there the entire time. Arlecchino eagerly chatted about her child soldiers whilst the other occasionally quipped a word or two. When her turn was done, it was Scaramouche, then Capitano, then Tartaglia– not once had the bottle turned to face you. The reason behind that is simple:

Pierro did not plan to call you, Number 8th, during any of his discussions. 

—---

The meeting was adjourned, but far from over. Just as you were about to head to the cathedral, a lithe hand pulled your coat sleeve, stopping you from reaching the front gates. 

You sighed, looking at their perfect doll-like fingers, there's no one else it could be other than…

"Shylock businesses aren't my style– ask Tartaglia instead." 

"You know damn well that's not what I'm gonna ask, Brighella?" 

"Then what is it, Kunikuzushi?"

He flushed red at your venomous retort.

Neither of you liked those names– unlike you, who dislike your Harbinger title purely because it sounds stupid– Scaramouche doesn't like hearing his baptismal name out of family reasons. Guess who's the more insecure one between the both of you.

"Are… Are you al– tch. Forget it." He paused before he scoffed and pointed his finger accusingly. Scaramouche grumbled. "I invested a lot of money in your casino project, so there better be some results!"

You nodded, barely paying attention to his tirades. His infantile behavior was never endearing to you; you either find it repulsive or boring. With the weighing pressure on your mental state, you were quick to chuck his new burlesque anger as mind-numbingly monotonous this time.

"Sure."

"Sure? Sure what, worm?"

"The Casino is not affected– the men who handled it are all alive. Zero casualties."

Unless you count Dimitri who used to manage the Casino in his spare time.

"That's good to hear." Surprisingly, he sounded genuinely relieved for what felt like their safety rather than financial compensation.

"Agreed. Are we done here?" 

His grip on your sleeve tightened.

"One final thing." Scaramouche leaned closer. "Use caution. Tighnari had likely received divine favors."

"Maybe you're stupid or you just don't care, but my devotion to Gnosticism is just a front. I appreciate your concern, though."

"I wasn't concerned. Just can't have my idiotic colleague underestimate what the divine can do." He smirked. "Can't have you burning another property you don't deserve."

You yanked your sleeve away.

Heartless puppet. 

"Goodbye, Balladeer."

—----

[Morning, 3 AM:]

With Felix trailing behind you (Alhaitham was in his Akademiya job), you both entered the church searching for Sister Rosaria.

The stained glass of the church had recently been updated. No one was surprised when disciples started taking away any hydro-related emblems from all northern churches. Even if those pieces of art are incredibly captivating, the fascists had already started utilizing them as a sign of movement, thus they are deemed not worth saving for future generations.

"Since when did they begin removing those things?"

"Since yesterday," Felix said with bags under his eyes. It's clear to you that he genuinely didn't want to be here. "Under Architect Kaveh's orders."

"I see. Go get some rest, Felix. There are surely some empty rooms in the convent."

"Thank you, Capo."

You let him leave.

Should you die today, you've already written a will that Felix will be the one to inherit your position. You'll let him have his quite-possibly-last good sleep before the Capo life keeps him busy. 

You stared back at the glass. 

In a way, architect Kaveh was similar to Alhaitham in that you were familiar with their names but not their faces. Even though he is consistently the first to offer to assist you with construction, this man always finds a way to decline your requests for an audience. The last time it was because he caught boar fever (how? ), but that was nothing compared to the time he wrote you a disorganized handwritten letter about how an Akademiyan spy sabotaged his clothes after breaking into his home and harassing him to gain confidential information.

... At least he has extraordinary talent. You can excuse any eccentric traits as long as a person's value outweighs the costs. That is the same reasoning you employed when you hired Alhaitham.

"(Y/n), is it true that you're going to find Tighnari?"

That voice couldn't be anyone else but your little fratella.

You were about to answer with a firm "yes", but when you turned around you felt a pang of guilt seeing how troubled she looked. Her hands gripped the hem of her dress in a suffocating hold and her eyebrows were knitted together.

"In Sumeru City? Of all places?" Barbara scurried and hugged your arm. 

"Don't go. Please."

[CHOSE: REASSURE BARBARA]

"Mia sorella, don't worry…" you cooed and soothingly lowered your gaze before bluffing. "Sumeru City's a lot safer nowadays. Alhaitham told me so."

[DID NOT CHOOSE: SAY "GOODBYE"]

[FAILED TO UNLOCK CHANCE FOR SECRET ROUTE: "MUSICIAN VENTI"]

"No…" Barbara stiffened and tore herself away. She clenched her fist, but everything else about her was calm and resolved. 

Barbara looks exactly like you when she's mad. She mimicked your traits so perfectly.

"No. You're lying. I heard Sister Rosaria talk to Inquisitor Cyno– it's not safe there."

"Barbara…" You traced your thumbs against her cheek. Her heartfelt display of anger almost successfully beseech you to reconsider. She slapped your hand away, but you kept talking. "I have to go."

“No. No, you don't– don’t be prideful! At least bring some of your men with you.” Barbara argued. 

You can’t. Some are stationed to help with church work while others are with Visconti Diluc. You purposely made them preoccupied so that they won’t put themselves in danger (like you.) Besides Tartaglia, there’s no other Capo who loves their people more than you– and perhaps this overprotective nature will be your cause of death, but so be it.

“Sister Rosaria will tag along. I'll be back soon– like I always do." You scooted closer to her, bending your knees a bit. With an unnoticeably forced chuckle, you shook her slightly. "C'mon, it's me, your very cool older Capo sibling. Don't you have faith in me?"

"I-I…" 

There are two things that can convince a pure-minded individual like her who has been sheltered from harm: a prayer and a cheerful smile.

"If you're worried about me, why don't you pray for my safe return?"

And you know damn those are the only thing that helps Barbara keep moving forward– the two things that help keep her sanity intact or else she'll break down. Religion is her sole solace. Despite living in poverty, she wouldn't sin. She's "used to hunger", that's just the type of person she was. Without prayers and smiles, nothing can help Barbara forget how her real biological sister left her in this chapel.

"Can you do that for me, sorella?"

Barbara paused. 

Snezhnayan men are the most religious. The people of Mondstadt nor Sumeru couldn't possibly compare with how Snezhnaya rears their impressionable children. Barbara was raised in this chapel and Snezhnayan culture ran deep in her veins.

“F-Fine.” Barbara sighed. “I’ll pray for you.”

You ruffled her hair.

“Grazie, sorella.”

—----

After reassuring Barbara that you will be safe and praying to an archon you don’t believe in, you slithered behind the church. 

"You watched everything earlier, I presume?"

Inquisitor Cyno didn’t move a muscle from his position. He was leaning by the wall, staring at the church cemetery. Still, he cracked up a small yet wholesome smile. He seemed pleased by your response.

[AFFECTION METER: 39.05%]

"It's in my job description."

You smiled sweetly. "Forgive my sins, Inquisitor, I forgot you were a professional stalker."

"Not stalking; I'm monitoring you."

"What's the difference?"

"Stalking has a more sinister connotation."

"Oh, then forgive me, your holiness." You theatrically bowed.

Cyno nodded. "You are forgiven."

You laughed loudly.

The inquisitor innocently raised his eyebrow and tilted his head. His pup-like demeanor shut you up. Apparently, that response wasn't a joke. Ex-priest Cyno wholeheartedly forgave you in a religious fashion.

Why is he only hilarious when he's not trying to be?

You cleared your throat. "My apologies, I suddenly remembered a joke, that's all."

"Would you mind sharing?" Cyno asked. "I want to find new comedy material. My previous jokes didn't seem to work."

You were about to cut it straight that he's the joke but ultimately decided to keep your mouth shut. 'You mean 'ALL your jokes don't seem to work.'' is what you wanted to say, but kindness is not the absence of mean-spiritedness. It is when you are restricting such actions.

“I don’t think you’d find it funny.”

“Is it an inside joke?”

How very kind of him to offer you a way out of this one.

“Something like that.”

“Then I won’t ask.” The Inquisitor nodded. "But there’s something else I want to request. Won’t you allow me to join you–"

"No."

[CHOSE: DO NOT INVITE INQUISITOR CYNO]

[AFFECTION METER: 25.00%]

Cyno paused.

You cannot allow him to join. Since you observed how the inquisitor and your new underboss interacted, you had a feeling that Cyno's presence would cause more issues than they would solve. He knew Tighnari well. He might even kill him before you do if he is provoked. Besides, it's not as though any sane man would hold an Inquisitor captive if given the chance; that would be like trying to wrestle an alligator to scare a dog.

Plus, you want to exploit Cyno and Tighnari's previous friendship against him. The safest course of action is to bluff and say you'll kill Cyno should that bastard try anything funny.

“Why not?”

“I hate to impose or be more indebted to you, Inquisitor. My conscience will not allow it.”

Cyno frowned.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to rely on others, Capo.”

“How very strange that I’ll hear that coming from you,” You said. “I know it is not my place to say this, but I’ve done my research and found out that you fulfill your duties alone. Candace kindly told me that you’ve always been a lone wolf, so I can’t say I’m persuaded by your advice.”

“Hmm. Understandable.” That’s all he could say. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You held his hand. He flinched, both shoulders tensed up like a shocked cat.

Your hands weren’t warm. They were cold. But as a desert dweller his hands oddly fit well with yours– a perfect balance. Unlike you, however, he had never used these hands to do evil. The Inquisitor silently wondered how would it feel like if these fingers wrung his neck–

Cyno closed his eyes. 

He cannot think of such sinful thoughts.

“Please relax, Inquisitor.” You spoke, circling the back of his palm. “I know what I’m doing.”

Should those words be the whole truth, then you must know unsavory your actions must be behind the pretense of kindness.

You debaucher.

“Do you now…”

You grinned.

That effectively made his heart skip a beat.

Cyno doubts you somehow knew about your hold on him.

“Hmm!”

“Fine. Then I’ll let you be.”

—----

He shouldn’t do this.

He’s worried. The Inquisitor did work with the spy before–

But Cyno doesn’t trust Alhaitham.

Cyno handed the disciple a dagger.

Alhaitham is calculating and most of all selfish. This was the man who actively disobeyed the church’s teachings unapologetically. Perhaps such behavior is cultured in the Akademiya but Cyno cannot stand it. 

Maybe that's why he tried stopping himself first, but after that fire…

Cyno's overprotective nature worsened.

He convinced himself that this feeling was a product of his past losses and argues that this is just a precaution. The Goddess has given him a second person to watch over. A second Usir. A new blessing to make up for his past transgressions.

And he will not waste this second chance.

"Take this. And do not forget my orders."

—---

[Morning, 4 AM]

Towering dome buildings, abundance of trees yet eerily silent streets– Sumeru City was not a tourist spot for amusement. 

Considering these facts, Dunyarzard, in all her former glory, still built a large theater underground called The Zubayr Theater. She had the intention of making the city a more joyous location with her contributions, and it's sad to see that it had done little to brighten up its citizens. Then again, Dunyarzard probably won’t be bothered by this if she lived longer.

You would know this because she was once your friend too.

Dunyarzard...

It’s a shame an invasive fox is hiding inside her paradise-on-earth. 

That, and a troublesome dog too.

You glanced at Alhaitham. He behaved strangely the entire time, glancing at his watch as if he were counting his seconds down. Soon enough, he walked closer and tapped your shoulder.

"(N/n)."

Assuming this is about the akasha terminal he let you borrow, you let him talk. "Go on, speak."

[AFFECTION METER: 28.00%]

"Tuqburni."

"… what?"

"Means you bury me in Sumeru," Alhaitham said, looking away sheepishly. "I decided it'd be best if you heard it again, even if Cyno isn’t here."

Is he trying to imply that an Inquisitor would care enough to kill him? Please. He’s an insignificant cog in the grand scheme of things. If he’s so sure you’ll lead him to his death then he should just quit. Go back to being an Akademiyan spy, it’s not that hard.

"Good to know." You'll forget about that word in ten minutes, tops.

He pursed his lips, troubled. "You don't remember what Tuqburni means?"

"Can't remember something I never learned."

Alhaitham frowned.

"I see…"

Sister Rosaria swerved her way between you two before pushing Alhaitham away with little force. "Take a hike. We don't have time to entertain you, underboss."

His nose scrunched. "Sister Rosaria, age 25. Weight 80kg, height 5'9, address–"

"Yeah, no shit I know where I live, so what?" The nun retorted. "Think you can take me on with your calculator, kid?"

You snorted.

"I'm not trying to intimidate you," Alhaitham spoke. "I'm letting you know that–"

"Whatever." Rosaria clicked her tongue. "Capo, what're your orders?"

Thank the Tsaritsa that Rosaria is here.

“We’ll split.” You pointed at the theater. “There are three main sections in Zabayr.”

You handed Rosaria a map. Alhaitham didn’t ask for a copy– he presumed that you already trust that he knew the location with the help of new technology. Instead, it was Rosaria who had a follow-up question.

“Where’s your copy, Capo?”

“They don’t need one,” Alhaitham answered. “They were here when the place was built– they helped Lady Dunyarzard build her dream theater.”

“I didn’t issue any orders for you to speak.” You glared. “Know where you stand, underboss.”

You cleared your throat. "As I was saying, we'll split up. I'll scout the theater, Rosaria outside the buildings, and you're on the apex building. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Of course."

—----

Despite saying "of course" confidently, Alhaitham found himself in a small library. 

This was likely NOT the place you ordered him to find, but the wealth of information stored around here was relevant to your investigation. Why? Because these were records haphazardly left by the fascists.

Their intel was right. The theater was one of their headquarters.

"These runes…" His eyebrows furrowed. “‘A tool that can only be used if the wielder upholds absolute justice above all else and would sacrifice the means for a satisfactory end.’ None of these descriptors match the Akademiya’s records at all, except...”

Alhaitham's eyes widened. 

This specific piece of information corroborates how Tighnari behaved thus far.

"However, if the Archons live with us and not Celestia then isn't it possible that Focalor is–"

His fingernails dug into the papyrus while his eyes frantically skimmed through its contents. If the contents of this papyrus were true, then what the hell was that collaboration between La Signora and the Adepti about? What the hell did they exchange?

Alhaitham heard the sound of breathing.

He turned around and turned on his terminal, hoping to reach you before the assailant stops him.

"(N/n), be careful! Whatever Tighnari's holding, that's a gn–"

[SHUTTING DOWN…]

—---

The Akasha Terminal buzzed, the signal muffling its voice. You surmise that this was caused by the theater's layout. The architect of the Zubayr Theater– which is funny enough, still Kaveh– specifically chose this location for its lack of noise. That being said, it would be nice to watch an actual play here now that Alhaitham wouldn't bother you with his senseless blather. Pity that no one's performing.

"… B… c…ful! Wh….. na… ri…ho…."

"T…s … ...sis!" 

You shook your head and nonchalantly thought out loud.

"The terminal must be acting up." 

There's no one there to accompany you in your confrontation with Tighnari should you encounter him, and you preferred it this way. 

You opened the door to the main stage.

And you finally found him.

You spotted the back of his silhouette lingering on the theater’s second floor. Props were crushed and some built-in chairs were knocked over. Whoever wreaked havoc around Dunyarzard’s theater had to pay– but that isn’t your main priority. Your target is already right here.

The professor no longer wore his cotton dark caramel coat– instead, he replaced it with a blander yet bolder black one that made his figure look larger. His eyes were vacant, looking forward as if a person would warp from near the ceiling. The bastard appeared to be waiting for someone.

Someone that isn’t you.

"Hello, professor."

A chill shot down his spine as his eyes met yours. Tighnari looked down, seeing you stare at him with a small smile. There was malice behind your peaceful expression. He made indescribable noises when he took a step back. No one else was in the vicinity except for the two of you, but his thoughts screamed that there was nowhere else to run. Tighnari knew that look was nothing he had ever seen before– a look of pity and anger reserved only for a dead man walking.

He sensed bloodlust, and it was consumingly relentless.

"It's been a while. Mind if I bother you outside office hours?"

Tighnari's hands were trembling but the rest of his limbs were frozen. He couldn't completely deny the possibility that he could die at this very moment. After all, he had seen your agility wipe out an entire floor of men with two dull daggers. If that was lazily done to protect him, he can only imagine the full extent of your abilities. On the bright side, at least you were below him and he could sprint somewhere– he just didn’t know where that is.

When you go on a hunt, you don’t stop until you catch your prey.

The professor knows that damn well.

"N-No," Tighnari answered with false confidence. "No, I don't."

"Can I ask a few questions, then?"

Your way of speaking contradicts whatever thoughts you both had in mind. Your voice inflection bounced off lightly, but the air shifted as soon as you traced your holster.

He didn't reply, and you took that as a yes.

[FREE TALK EVENT: START]

[READER REPLIES MARKED IN RED]

"Why." 

It came out more like a general statement than a question, so you repeated it with added conviction. You're not a static force. You're here because you willed it– you're here to satisfy your demands. Your lust for revenge.

"Why did you do it? Why did you burn my manor?"

Like a grim reaper appeasing their curiosity, you spoke calmly while simultaneously patronizing his inconsequential life.

Tighnari bit his lip. "You already know why–"

"But I need the confirmation, the closure. Any reason to make your death tenfold more satisfying." 

"I did it so that you'd get your cure."

Your eyes squinted.

Of course he did. You don't doubt him. You've known his obsession with Eleazar and how he rightfully suspected that you're burdened by this illness. 

But he took the whole truth and poured some out.

"That still doesn’t make sense, Professor Tighnari."

He took a sharp yet deep breath. Tighnari's treading on thin ice. He was scared not just for his life. He was scared that this would be his final moment when he had yet to give you what you needed. 

"I had to–"

"Surely the cure for Eleazar doesn't involve mass murder."

You were remarkably calm. As opposed to your uncharacteristically feral actions during the previous few days, this argument was entirely typical of you. Strategic and reserved, but ready to unleash everything in a single strike. 

"I…" Tighnari bit his cheek. He sighed exasperatedly. "Just. Just trust me for once, Capo–"

"Don't call me that." You tensed up. "You lost the right to call me Capo the moment you betrayed your familia. How can I trust you when I don't forgive you? Why trouble yourself so much when you can rip my head off my shoulders right now? I'm just another body between you and your precious cure, correct?" 

He almost didn't notice how you threw a dagger mid-talk like pelting a mere pebble. Tighnari dodged it, albeit barely, and you calculated as much. You won't let him die until he hears everything.

You spat lowly. "You snuffed the lives out of the only people that mattered to me." 

"Please don't be mad. I had to–" Tighnari spilled. "I had to or else Focalor wouldn't help me."

"How the fuck can I not be mad? You're a fox, I'm sure you can smell the hatred I have for you. Your olfactory system is sensitive, after all." You masterfully kept your voice calm despite the severity of your words.

"Your associates are such idiotic bastards then if they have to kill my men for a cure." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Where is it? Where the fuck is the correlation, Professor?"

"It's to prove my loyalt–"

"The only thing you've proven is that you're a piece of shit. Is this what fascism is about? I can't see why you'd ever want to be one."

Tighnari looked down and muttered something you didn't hear.

"Who said I wanted this to happen?"

You continued. "I know I was only spared because I was in the chapel– so take out your gun so we can settle this already."

You fired a warning shot, this time with a bullet and not a dagger, burying another close call between his tall ears.

There were so many things to worry about, but Tighnari relied on hopeless dialogue. It's the only tool he has left to de-escalate the situation.

Unfortunately for him, you're better with words.

"I don't want to kill you."

"Teppei."

"... What?"

"Lyudochka, Kazari, Bao'er, Viktor… " You cocked your gun. "Lindhart. Did you regret killing them?"

"Capo, I know what you're trying to do."

"You should or else we'd both look stupid."

"But saying their names won't change my mind. I've already decided that they're replaceable as friends."

Replaceable?!

"You bastardo–"

You fired a second shot– it missed. With a bit of spite, you aimed higher knowing that he'd evade. You didn't repeat the same mistake.

He ducked behind the second-floor barrier.

But didn't take its spiral pillar designs into account, and the gaps were exactly where you aimed at.

"GAH–"

His guttural scream echoed across the theater.

You shot him in the leg.

Whoever designed that barrier had great tastes– you'll thank the architect for this later.

It'd be so easy to just kill him now.

"Your fur will look better draped around my shoulders, Vulpes." You aimed with Tartaglia's revolver. "It's winter, is it not? Don't worry, I'll put it to good use."

The most significant thing he would do with his life is dying.

Lucky for him, you can’t grant him that just yet.

You still have hope. 

You still believe that there’s a way to get rid of Eleazar.

And as much as you hate it, you also believe in Tighnari.

Rather, you believe in his abilities and nothing more.

With the "goodness" in your heart, you’ll let him finish what he started.

"But I’ll suffer through the winter for now. That cure is the only thing keeping you alive. The day you finish your research will be the day I finish you. After that, I’ll make sure to kill every last person you hold dear."

Tighnari huffed self-deprecatingly, clinging onto his wounded leg by the theater's second floor. gazing at you with a melancholic stare. "Jokes on you (Y/n), there's no one else but y–"

"Cyno. Collei."

His eyes widened.

You smirked jadedly. "I had Inquisitor Cyno keep her in our custody. Did you know that pain is heightened ten times more for those of us suffering from Eleazar?"

You traced your old battle scars. They were all healed, but their numbers will keep multiplying.

Each time you pinch, no matter how dated these may be, it's as painful as yesterday's wounds. Nothing prepared you when you were diagnosed with Eleazar. Each wound, each papercut– the pain clings onto you like a leech that can never be scrubbed out, or else it'll cling tighter. 

"It's excruciating. That's why I was addicted to heroin– it numbs everything. Have you heard? Children are more vulnerable when it comes to drug addiction–"

"Don't." He faltered, lowering his gun. "Please. Don't touch them."

Bullseye.

Them. He used the word “them” instead of “her.” Despite Cyno’s impression, the fox still cares about him.

Maybe you should’ve invited Cyno to tag along.

You tilted the revolver sideways. 

You want him to inflict even more pain.

If Cyno were here, you would’ve made sure he said all the wrong things and watched Tighnari squirm. After all, you do have the uncanny ability to get people to behave in the way you want them to, don’t you?

"Then parry this."

But you didn’t pull the trigger.

Surprisingly, Tighnari bravely climbed up and hung his leg by the barrier, making him more susceptible if you attacked. You can’t tell if you hesitated or you’re curious as to what he’s trying to accomplish– the second floor was meters high above your station– he’ll surely die if he jumped.

Sister Rosaria emerged from your peripheral vision, ragged and stripped of breath. It's a long way from the main theater to the bazaar– she ran when she heard your argument as soon as possible.

Tighnari fished something out of his pocket.

A blue light shimmered in what appeared to be a chess bishop.

… What kind of trick is this? 

"Tighnari, what the hell are you holding?" Your nose scrunched, squinting at the small piece. You could've sworn you've seen that symbol somewhere– in large glass-stained imageries.

"Can't you see?" Tighnari croaked, angrily crying out in a desperate attempt to make deaf men such as yourself hear. "Focalor is the Hydro Archon– there's no better healer than her if you would just allow us to help you find a cure."

His eyes… Whatever it is you’ve said, it had its impact.

Tighnari lost his mind.

Sister Rosaria's breath hitched. Fortunately for both of you, she understood the situation.

"CAPO, GET BEHIND ME–"

"This is the Hydro Archon's gnosis," Tighnari yelled. "I'll prove to you– I'll show you that all those sacrifices were worth every drop of blood I had to spill. Maybe I haven't figured out how to heal with it now but destroying things has always been easier than fixing them!"

Gnosis?

What the fuck is he talking about?

Like the 7 gnosis the Tsaritsa collected?

That bedtime story?

"Fox, where on earth did you get that?!" Sister Rosaria pushed you near the exit door, mediating the argument. "Where did you steal that divine artifact?!"

"Dear sister…" Tighnari chuckled darkly. 

"If there's a will, there's a way."

He raised the chess piece to the sky. 

"I'm sorry Capo– but this I swear: I never betrayed you." He spoke softly while his ears lowered. "Open your eyes– everything I do is all for your health and wellbeing. This little thing right here is worth more than your men. Easier to do things first before apologizing later, that's what you told me last time, right?"

"Fuck off." You didn't take a step forward. In this instance, Rosaria would handle this better than you could. "Take a swim in the river Cocytus for all I care– but don't you fucking dare dedicate that slaughter under my name."

[FREE TALK EVENT: END]

Tighnari grinned emptily.

[AFFECTION METER: ERROR.]

[AKASHA TERMINAL STATUS: DISABLED]

“I’ll never know.” He spoke softly. “I’ll never know why I like you so much. At this rate, I’m too afraid to find out.”

His hold on the “gnosis” tightened.

The bishop piece beamed.

“Farewell, my Capo.”

—-----

[6 years ago]

Alhaitham lived a monotonous life.

The same old nine-to-five schedule: wash up, dress up, eat, work, eat, sleep, and repeat the following day. When compared to his former self, he had a professional short haircut and was dressed in white dress shirts that were buttoned up. Alhaitham has the appearance of a plastic toy. Too typical and bland. Nothing exuded uniqueness.

He thought he got what he wanted. Alhaitham graduated and became an accountant, just like what he aimed for for years. As a child, he grew up under the misconception that he had something special. Alhaitham was the boy every parent preached about when their lackluster children produced little results. Maybe he was the smart kid everyone loathed– but his repertoire was genuine. The world handed him an easy-to-follow script, and he mindlessly fulfilled it with his innate abilities.

But for goodness' sake, if this is what success is, then why is it so empty?

His purpose in living had turned into nothing more than a bank's problem fixer until he returns to doing what he loved most:

Nothing.

What the hell is life boring him for?

"Tired of life, tesoro?"

Alhaitham looked up.

He saw an underdressed person wearing a white tattered shirt and lousily safety-pinned flip-flops. Had they worn white instead, they would be easily mistaken as a hospital escapee. 

More specifically, they looked like they just got out of the heroin rehabilitation center just a few blocks down the street.

Alhaitham didn't send them away. They had a sparkle in their eyes, something that he lacked nowadays. However, there's something about it that made it more noteworthy compared to civilians around here.

Those pupils are (e/c) Khaenri'ahn eyes.

A natural trait, but its presence alludes to artificial happiness in the same manner endomorphs appear friendly and kind. No matter how lifeless a Khaenri'ahn may be, the gem in their eyes will always make them look more alive than the rest of the world.

They covered their mouth.

"Oh, pardon. I can't help but ask. You're rather down and I thought you needed a distraction..." 

They didn't seem all that sorry when they immediately sat down beside him after that apology.

"Incorrect." He bluffed. "What makes you assume that?"

They smiled.

"I dare say you look like you've achieved everything you thought you wanted in life, but you're still feeling empty inside, aren't you?"

Alhaitham's head snapped back in their direction.

"What do you mean?"

"You work for the Banco Di Snezhnaya, around age 23, have a wage of 500 thousand mora per week," they chuckled, gesturing at his hair. "Aaand you probably don't own a hair dryer."

Stalkerish-ly spot on.

"How did you–" He clicked his tongue, disappointed at himself for becoming immersed in parlor tricks. "Nevermind. I'm not buying into whatever astrology thingamajig you're selling."

"Oh please, the only thing I'm selling are matchsticks. Hair dryers ain't astrology, ya dumbass, they're a new Fontaine invention." They huffed. "If my matchsticks could tell the future I would've achieved my dreams by now."

Alhaitham still can't phantom why, but he's oddly intrigued by whatever came out of their mouth.

"And your dreams are?"

"I want to become a journalist." They said, softly knocking their chest with a closed fist. "Future Teyvat Times journalist. The best of the best."

"Unlikely." Alhaitham muffled his laughter. Unlike most people, he can regulate his emotions masterfully well. "Someone like you who obviously achieved no real education? Give up on that dream while you're still ahead."

"Yikes. Already sizing up my intellectual capacity? That's rude."

"I'll see your dreams if it happens." He continued. "But it's my turn to guess things about you– you're a heroin addict who just got out of rehab and now you're stuck doing community service by selling matchsticks. Not only are you uneducated, but you also have a drug record so say goodbye to any stable employment."

They smirked. They were right– he's not the type to hold his tongue. That just makes him a better conversationalist.

"Close, but no dice." They snapped their fingers, pretending to be saddened by his faulty inference. "EX-heroin addict. I got out of rehab a year ago and I'm not selling matchsticks because of community service– that sure sounds better than the actual truth, though."

He'd rather they communicate properly with little subtext and implications. Alhaitham sighed. "Alright, fine. I'm hooked, what's the truth?"

"Don't tell me you can't tell." They raised an eyebrow before they pried their left eye open, showing off their unique pupil. "I'm an immigrant, so of course finding a job is as easy as becoming the seventh archon, ragazzo."

Their butchering of the Snezhnayan language further cemented that they're not from here.

"I didn't get any quote-unquote "real" education, but living on the streets? You'd be caught dead if you're not skilled at inferences." They said grimly, but the smile on their face never left. "That's why I know how to spot a person easily. I know a guilty murderer when I see one, and I know an unsatisfied man once I look down on him sulking by the fountain."

"Right. I forgot you're Khaenri'ahn." Alhaitham muttered.

"Well, then you must be the first person to do so. That's literally what everyone points out after looking at my eyes. Congratulations." They snickered. 

"Why am I even talking to someone as arrogant as you?"

"I may be arrogant, but you're a lot happier now that I'm here, aren't you?"

Alhaitham froze.

"See? I'm pretty good at swaying people into behaving the way I want them to."

"What's your goal exactly?" Alhaitham pulled out his wallet. "Need me to buy a pack of cigars? I'm not funding your addiction."

He said that but he already took out 150 bills.

"Nah. That sounds great though but I was just trying to practice my conversation skills." They sheepishly told him. "I want to practice speaking Snezhnayan, and also cause I want to seem friendly."

"'Seem' friendly?"

They laughed. "Well, we all have secrets, don't we? There's something powerful about being charismatic yet setting boundaries all the same. Master both and you might just get somewhere."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alhaitham grunted.

"We've been talking for a while now– I'm (N/n), and yours?"

"That's…"

Alhaitham subconsciously glanced around. 

Morepesok was not one of Teyvat's safest plazas. And they look Khaenri'ahn in the worst place possible, not that anyone besides him would appreciate that. Drugs are prevalent but it's not the only social cancer in the plaza. Petty thievery, human trafficking, money laundering, the list is bottomless and in no small thanks to the syndicates. Immigrants especially get a bad rep around here as either helpless victims or eager puppets, so forgive him for exercising caution based on generalizations.

They cringed. "Ah, right. Don't worry– no need to spill your real name, just give me something I can call you."

He paused.

"... Deshret."

"Well, well, nice to meet you Deshret. Is that from The Scarlet King's Court Jester?"

"Nevermind. Let's just change it to–"

"No no no! It's perfect." They said. "Very underrated bedtime story. The kids loved it… even though it was pretty dark and abusive."

"Many say it's a real tale."

"Do you believe that?"

It was also his favorite story as a child. 

"Yes."

"Heh. I don't, but I don't want to make little Kaeya cry." They laughed. "As you can probably tell, I'm Khaenri'ahn, and we just don't have all these strange cultural beliefs you people have…"

They gazed down his thighs. 

"Hey Deshret, isn't sitting with your legs together uncomfortable? Go on, cross your legs, or whatever. I don't mind."

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow before he slowly did what he was told. It's been a while since he sat this way. He trained himself to stop since it wasn't appropriate in the office, and somehow he forgot he could still do it outside work.

He relaxed. The change in posture was effective.

"... You're creepily perceptive."

"As I said, gotta be more observant." They chuckled. "Being liked is key to survival–"

Out of the blue, a loud metallic thud reverberated around the plaza. The both of them flinched at the sound and everyone turned their heads to its source.

"Hey, isn't that Adepti Underboss, Xiao?" They whispered.

The Adepti were incredibly busy that year. By June, a rat published a book entitled "Rex Incognito" where they detailed and provided evidence that Morax is the Geo Archon himself, which makes the piece both heretical AND entertaining.

The man, whom they both assumed was underboss Xiao, tossed a man upward till they landed on the roof of a nearby car. With his lithe yet muscular form, he swiftly disposed of a 70kg policeman like a garbage bag. No one moved a muscle in their direction. Not a single person showed empathy for the nose-bleeding cop in the middle of the plaza. The civilians pitied the car owner and not the injured man. Only children shrieked at the sound. For the rest? Just another Wednesday garbage cleanup.

There's no semblance of justice in Teyvat that remains in broad daylight.

Alhaitham closed his eyes, disappointed.

"Pathetic how the tri-mafia overpowers the military police in every way. The police are useless." 

"Yeah man, fuck the system."

"Fuck the system indeed." Alhaitham nodded solemnly. They nearly laughed at how strangely innocent the word 'fuck' sounds coming from him.

"Wanna know what we should do?"

"I genuinely don't."

"Let's join the mafia together."

Alhaitham snorted. It's funny how he considered himself a pro at regulating his emotions moments prior because now he couldn't hold back the cute little chuckles that betrayed his lips. His shoulders trembled as well as his hands while he composed himself.

That was the stupidest idea he had ever heard.

"W-What?" They asked mid-laughter as well, clearly not considering their own enthusiastic suggestion. "Don't think we can overthrow the government together? Tsk, tsk."

They look positively malnourished. Alhaitham would bet on the chance that they'd achieve their dream journalist career rather than a stable life as a future mafioso. 

Then again, Alhaitham looked very straight-laced and put-together before he joined Akademiya. 

"Ah yes, an accountant and a matchstick vendor joining the mafia together; one of them might even become the next leader. Find out next time in chapter 3."

"Coglione, I'm the one who's going to be a journalist here, not you."

"Not with that awful pronunciation you're not."

They frowned. "You Teyvatans are so strict with your stupid lingua francas."

"But still, it's not a bad idea, isn't it? Let's meet each other again after we join the mafia." They nudged his side. "Same time, same place. C'mon, it'd be funny if the next time we meet you'd be holding your head thinking that there's too much excitement in your life now."

Alhaitham rolled his eyes before he looked down at his watch.

"At 6 in the morning?" He looked rather amused for someone who claimed to be uninterested.

They bantered back with the same vigor. "6 AM sharp of course, tesoro."

Alhaitham chuckled. 

They laughed along with him. 

"Heh. Anyways, say, what's it like being an accountant?"

"Well…"

Since then, the two of them began meeting weekly as Deshret and (N/n). They've used their morning hours as an excuse to get drunk in the crack of dawn. Both have forgotten what the true purpose of that time was, 

But it's not as if they'd both remember that joke, right?

—---

Well, if that's true, then Alhaitham doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.

Something about that small conversation rekindled a fire in him– a torch he had never once touched for he saw no need for it. But after seeing how empty those cubicles were– how mechanical the bigger picture was– nothing had been the same for him. His conversations with coworkers were barely anything compared to what he shared with (N/n). Dialogues in the office were canned scripts, and they were oh-so-predictable.

And so that morning, he went up and quit his job before accepting the offer to be the Akademiya Syndicate's bookkeeper. 

But (N/n) was nowhere to be found in their usual spot. 

Not in the fountain– not in the old bar. 

Where the hell were they?

Alhaitham asked the people of Morepesok if they'd seen them, but these efforts were futile. Some were eager to point out that they know what's-their-name-s, but none led back to where they were. And the street urchins that were familiar with the name (N/n) assumed they'd departed the country and gone back to their homeland.

He refused to believe that. Passions quite like theirs do not burn out as easily as he did.

As a result, waiting in Morepesok for (N/n) in the hopes that they'll return has become a daily ritual. For the first few days, no one was eager to approach the new Akademiyan mafioso; instead, he would monitor the time with a feverish bloodlust. Even in Snezhnaya's harsh winters, he is frequently observed by numerous concerned bystanders who urge him to get inside because it is cold out. None of their worries stopped him. He saw waiting as a chance to relieve stress. These quiet moments remind him of his humble humanity, and he was grateful to have ever met (N/n) because of this.

Yet they never came back.

But Alhaitham never held it against them. It's alright.

Thanks to them, he lived the kind of life he never knew he dreamed of.

"6 AM sharp, huh?"

The more he hung around the square, the more people thought they understood him. They were under the impression that this immovable man was not on a syndicate mission– he was just a lovelorn yet patient man.

"But I doubt I'm far gone. I just appreciate them. That's all there is to it." These were the words that helped him sleep at night. But if the term "lovelorn" simply means "unrequited" then perhaps the way he feels while waiting for them to return fits the description.

He was still sitting upright by the fountain in Morepesok Plaza, waiting expectantly for (N/n) to return like a dog.

—----

And even now, he waited.

Until (Y/n), Capo of the Innamorati family, found him lying on the ground.

(N/n) didn't come.

"(Y/n)..." Rosaria whispered while her face grimaced at the pungent and metallic smell. You both observed the pool of blood on the ground.

You and Rosaria narrowly escaped the blast of whatever divine power Tighnari conjured– and you’re still processing what happened in the theatre that you couldn’t comprehend the body right in front of you. If Rosaria wasn’t there to lift you on her shoulders you would’ve stood and resigned to your fate. Thankfully, you weren’t wounded, but the bump you had on the seats when the water pressure pushed you back nearly gave you a concussion. 

In the end, you both came back for Alhaitham with soaked coats and socks, dripping from head to toe. Rosaria’s veil was discarded and left by the doorsteps as it was distractingly clinging to her skin– you would’ve done the same with your coat had it not been one of your favorite ones. Your cold and quivering limbs weep for respite but you remained steadfast. However, your mind does not share the same willpower. Your thoughts were slow but chaotic. 

Just how did Tighnari flood the underground theater earlier?

Was that really a gnosis?

Why did he have one? 

Where did Tighnari flee now?

You shook your head in an attempt to focus on what was in front of you.

Who attacked Alhaitham?

His neck is bleeding and there's a clean stab wound on his neck. The crimson trail trickled down to his exposed arm. With his back leaning on the wall and head facing down, Alhaitham did not move a muscle. You know little about Alhaitham but you did know one thing: he wanted to work with you far longer than your first guess. 

Suppose he’s underqualified to be an underboss, after all, failing his first (and last) mission like this. You once heard Pantalone say that "Akademiyan spies are the weakest species in Teyvat" and your new "underboss" proved that right by messing up the marble tiles with his blood.

The collar you were supposed to give him feels useless in your pocket.

Maybe you should've picked Enjou instead. That crazy maniac would survive better than him, and he's just a merchant in the Abyss Market you like to gossip with.

Alhaitham is pathetic. Was pathetic.

"One of those fascists likely killed your underboss," Rosaria said, sounding awful like she was reading from a script. "It seems that Tighnari will do anything to stop you from maintaining your position."

That's funny, cause the only way those shits can achieve that is by burying you alive– and they failed miserably– comically, even.

Did they seriously think you'd weep for Alhaitham?

For someone as “replaceable” as him, as Tighnari would put it?

You've said it once and you'll say it again: that's fucking hilarious. Tartaglia would love this story– you're sure. They've already taken your best friend Dimitri, everyone else is secondary. You love your men, but they know they can never be him. Hell, you'd argue that if the others were equally loved, Alhaitham would be "less equal" than the others. 

You didn't take a second look at Alhaitham, and not because you lack remorse. 

The real reason is too boring.

He's not dead. 

He's just unconscious.

Sadly no, that was not just the first stage of grief speaking. There's still some life left in him. He's nowhere near as cold as a corpse shouldn't be. Would've made your job a lot easier if he was, but he's still breathing, albeit shallow and excruciatingly so. However, that doesn't change the fact that he'll survive. All for one damn good reason–

Sister Rosaria was the one who attacked him.

The inquisitor must've left him like this hoping that fate will decide whether he lives or not, which means she was hesitant to kill him. In a way, your casual friendship with the nun saved your second underboss. This isn't your first rodeo– you've had good friends who tried to kill you once and vice versa, and it's nothing a visit to Angel's Share can't fix. Rosaria was merely a tool. Her feelings had nothing to do with this. It's a good thing your conversations with Sister Rosaria are never dull, you hate to imagine what you would've done to her otherwise.

Lucky bastards, both Alhaitham AND Sister Rosaria.  

Still, this meant that someone else ordered you to assassinate your underboss.

Someone from the church. The very same cathedral you swore fealty to and devoted half of your life's work on.

You laughed furiously.

"Hahahaha! I see!" 

Who the FUCK is the rat that tried to take what's YOURS?

You wrapped the scarf around his neck taut like a gauze and propped him upward. Alhaitham's weight leaned on your right side as you began lazily carrying him. It doesn't look like he'll wake up soon, so at least he wouldn't be bragging about getting carried by his boss.

Rosaria wore a stiff expression.

You both know the truth, and she's wholly aware you've pieced everything together. But you're not mad at her– any sister of Barbara is a familia to you. She's just following orders, and if what the church wanted was to frame Tighnari for this…

Then who's to say they haven't pinned someone else for any other crime?

But that's not what matters now– Alhaitham's situation is urgent compared to these half-baked conspiracies. 

"He lives." You said. "Don't worry Rosaria."

Neither of you addressed how you subtly forgave her.

She placed two fingers on his wrist. The nun sighed a little too relieved when she felt his pulse. 

"Good. Then we should go find help."

You smirked. "Oh, no need to worry. I know a medical professional nearby."

"Whoever it is you have in mind, you better make the right call, we're losing him." She spoke casually.

Neither of you showed any semblance of panic over a dying man.

Sister Rosaria, a child of the Archons, was more afraid of your fury than his stripping lifeline.

"Of course, Sister Rosaria."

In all honesty, he's by no means the "right call" for this scenario. But who else can you turn to,

other than Il Dottore himself?

—---

→ Common Route First Half Complete!!! ←

A/n: Did y'all think Alhaitham was going to die? Me too. Trust me, I'd give you guys a lot of chances to kill these three.

Btw, did some of their dialogue sound familiar? You're all very creative!!! I had to cut some responses off (I'm sorry.) because some were already similar while others currently don't fit the situation… But I hope some of you read it and went "oh, this is MY answer from the open-ended question (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)!!!" I want you all to feel like you're part of what builds Capo!Reader's personality! 

Same as usual, the underlined word (Il Dottore) leads to the polls. Have fun voting!!!

Deadline: TBA

Taglist, thank you all for reading "OC!MC!" ❤️: @scaranaris-lil-niko @ruru-senpai-is-an-infp @vienettacream @theglowfly @vermillionite @nasidibakar

[tater-tot-jr]

Honkai: Star Rail fans, I’m here to yap. Major spoilers for 2.4.

So, I’m the certified number 1 space china hater. I hate that place, I don’t trust it, I didn’t like its first story arc that much. But holy shit that ruled. That was awesome. It’s obviously impossible to follow up Penacony and outdo it, and you can certainly nitpick some faults, but the war dance arc thus far was super enjoyable to play.

Let’s start with the fucking Yanqing character development holy shit?? Seeing the ways he matured and humbled himself was super fucking cool, and his dynamic with Yunli was peak comedy. His monologue about why he wields a sword was completely awesome, very well done by the VA. Hoyo making sure to let us know that both him and Yunli are literal child soldiers and we should be concerned about that was based. The conflict between him and Yunli was actually presented really well. (I haven’t done the new march event yet so maybe I’ll come back and edit this if I remember) The didn’t really push someone as correct or incorrect, they just showed us the situation and let us form opinions. Yanqing getting some character development was awesome and I love that for him.

The plot? It still had some of that trademark complexity but it was much easier to follow this time around. It felt like events naturally lead to one another and the characters reacted as they actually would instead of just reacting as necessary to move the plot. It gives you a shocking amount of player agency to succeed or fail and I really enjoyed the stakes that came with that. I’m liking how dark some of it is, it’s not crazy but there are certainly some moments.

I love all the new characters, they’ve all managed to endear themselves to me very quickly. Even the characters I was meh on like Jiaoqiu and Lingsha managed to worm their way into my heart a little. Feixiao is a total badass and Moze really interests me. Yunli was really funny and I enjoyed her shenanigans. As much as some of the mechanics and designs of these new characters disappointed me I still found them compelling in the narrative.

And the fucking angst? Hello?? It was peak.

This might be a hot take but I think the shackling prison is my new favorite singular section of the game. I love Dan Heng, I find his lore and personality fascinating and was dying to see some more of it. His VA did a great job this entire patch, Dan Heng is very stoic so it was impressive how his VA managed to portray the general unease he felt being back in the Luofu. He was just normal enough to not have anyone make a big deal out of it but you could tell that something was just under the surface. Then you get to the shackling prison and it just… man. You get to the door and you hear his voice just break. For someone so stoic you hear him overwhelmed with emotions, and it’s so juicy. Wonderful way to set the tone, Hoyo. Then you get inside and wow it’s evil looking in there. The other chance you get to chat with Danny boy before shit hits the fan is just as good. They decided to give me personally a treat with his lines like, and I’m paraphrasing here, “it’s just as cold as I remembered.” And telling the trailblazer they “shouldn’t have to see this place.” Hoyo chose violence with that shit. Also, Fox Boy™️ literally got held hostage and (kinda) enslaved. Incredible.

The pacing of that section was awesome. Seeing Xueyi get destroyed and then rushing down with Hanya was a simple trick but goddamnit it worked. The way it managed to portray that rushed and dangerous feeling without going overboard on the monsters around you was impressive. It was so much fun to watch the mystery come together in a way that felt like both a climax and a cliffhanger somehow. The cinematic stuff was so well done, it was all so pretty. There were plenty of POV swaps but they felt natural and necessary to the plot. I was unenthusiastic about going back to space china but goddamnit Hoyo has done it again. Fuck.

It was just a really fun patch, 2.5 feels so far away…. :(

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | How the Ghosts Stole Christmas (6x06)

‘Twas the night before Christmas on Larkspur Lane;

Ev’ry corner held loneliness, sadness and pain.

The house reeked of sorrow beyond all compare.

Indeed, ‘twas a time of dark, dark despair.

For many a moon we stayed dormant and still,

Awaiting some guests to our house on the hill,

For this singular night, yes– the one night all year

We’d be given a chance to spread holiday cheer.

But as the clock ticked further into the eve,

We worried that there might be none to receive;

Maurice in his topcoat and I, pale and gaunt, 

Lamented a Christmas with no one to haunt. 

When, what to our wondering eyes should appear 

But two such lonely souls (also suckers, my dear)!

They searched through the mansion, as their flashlights beamed

For ghosts —but in truth, for each other, it seemed. 

Our grayed, ghoulish faces grew flush with delight

As they crept through the hall —how delicious a sight!  

Foolishly thinking themselves to be brave,

They were perfect, exactly the targets we craved!

The one with red hair, spouting theories a-flurry

Was doing her best to get out in a hurry,

While her partner (so handsome!) wanted not a thing more

Than to keep her nearby for just one more dark floor.

In eighty long years, I’d never quite seen

Two hearts locked at impasse like these two had been;

Denying their feelings, year after year

Out of loneliness, pride, and a good dose of fear.

At eleven o'clock, the grandfather did chime,

Giving we two just an hour of time

To trap these poor souls in their own lovers’ pact —

Like Maurice and me, there’d be no going back.

Maurice took the tall man; I, Lyda, the dame,

As we worked to uncover their secrets and shame.

You see, ghosts can’t do much but mess with the mind,

And these two were a challenge with so little time.

Maurice began prodding him– Mulder, his name —

To help find the answers he couldn’t explain;

Run down his issues, a glum inventory

(All of them paramasturbatory)

I, Lyda, found Scully, the lass of the two,

A bundle of pent-up neuroses, ‘twas true;

Her unconscious yearning, though present, was faint

For her partner, displaying impressive restraint.

I had to give credit, for weakness she lacked;

Resisting that man was a heroic act!

But… in love with a gent who would only see ghosts?

A lovers’ pact? Please. These two had no hope.

We considered retreating back up to our beds

While the agents ran into brick walls in their heads.

But something about them had told us instead

These two star-crossed lovers were better off dead.

(You might fairly ask why a couple of ghosts

Would decide to become such abom’nable hosts,

But ‘ere you judge us for what happened that night,

Remember: they trespassed, thus earning our spite.)

A wee little push, then, was all they would need,

And eventually they’d watch the other one bleed.

We’d need all our tricks, it was well understood,

To get Dana and Fox ‘neath our floorboards for good.

Getting him to believe was a simple first leap,

Then surely she’d follow, like a redheaded sheep;

‘Twas easy as shooting two fish in a barrel

Or singing a well-trodden old Yuletide carol.

With glee we did watch as they squirmed on the floor,

Covered in blood, all trust broken, for sure.

Our events set in motion that one day they’d see

How amazing a true partnership could be!

But then, in a twinkling, we heard Mulder speak

In a voice that grew strong after starting out weak:

“You’re not shot,” he told Scully, to greatest avail,

And they both got up, leaving our fine plan to fail!

Grabbing her hand, they took off like the lark,

Sprinting away, lost to us in the dark.

Maurice was upset, and I, Lyda, distraught;

Our scheme to turn foursome had all been for naught.

But the spirit of Christmas, alas, was not lost

As my love took my own hand, whatever the cost;

‘Twas a night to remember, although it was done…

What more’s there to say? Even ghosts should have fun!

Read the Rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@admiralty-xfd

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 2) Chapter Twenty-Two

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two: One Hell of a Scythe

Summary: With Undertaker revealed, he joins the fight, and its a fox and rabbit hunt.

            “Undertaker is a Grim Reaper?” Ciel couldn’t believe it. But the fluorescent eyes didn’t lie.

            “Explain yourself, Undertaker!” Stoker ran down the stairs towards Undertaker. “You said I could control those corpses with this device!”

            “Did I, now? Truly?” Undertaker grinned.

            “So you tricked me?!” cried Stoker. “Was it all a lie?! Even the part about sailing to America to popularize absolute salvation…everything?!”

            Undertaker shrugged. “Well, you seeee…I found it comical that you were attempting so earnestly to resurrect the dead via medical science. You were just the man of talent for my purposes.”

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched, and their eyes narrowed. They had been right. A foolish human had forgotten exactly what they were dealing with.

            “And what of our singular desire to bring the whole world into health and wellbeing through medicine?” said Stoker.

            “That was your desire, right?” Undertaker grinned. “Besides! You are not capable of bringing the dead back to life by the power of the medical knowledge in your grasp. And it all ceased to be medicine in the first place the moment you began to depend on my techniques. One who conducts procedures upon his patients that he himself does not understand can no longer call himself a physician.”

            Stoker’s eyes widened as the plain truth was handed to him. He fell to his knees. “H-How could this be?”

            Undertaker patted his head. “You were a good lad, naively buying all I said without question.”

            So that’s what I sensed on him, thought (Y/N). The reanimated humans left that energy and scent on him.

            “So you’re saying that you masterminded the Aurora Society’s experiments to resurrect the dead?” demanded Ciel, glaring at Undertaker.

            “That’s a secret~,” said Undertaker, raising a finger to his lips. He smiled. “Well, that’s what I’d like to say, but you’ve greatly entertained me.” He glanced at Sebastian and (Y/N). His smile turned to a smirk. “I mean, seeing those two dance around each other is so amusing that I could laugh for hours.” (Y/N) and Sebastian exchanged a confused look, but Undertaker continued. “So tell you, I shall!” He motioned to the corpses around them. “ ‘Twas indeed I who produced these reanimated corpses.”

            “To what end?” questioned Ciel.

            “Well, let’s see. At first, it was probably…simple curiosity towards humans.” Undertaker leaned on his sotoba. “Humans possess ‘bodies of flesh’ and ‘souls.’ If the two are present, humans, as living beings, exist in this world and continue to log their ‘Cinematic Records,’ the memories of their lives. And when the bodies of flesh decay and Grim Reapers retrieve their souls, their Cinematic Records come to an end at that moment, and the living become the dead.

            “Grim Reapers going by their lists, extract human souls from bodies, and bring Cinematic Records to their ends. Day after day. Indifferently. Matter-of-factly.” Undertaker sighed before smirking. “However, one day, after I’d spent a long time as a Grim Reaper doing just that, day in and day out, I came across an…exception.” His eyes landed on (Y/N). “I learned of a being that died a human and had their soul collected and yet returned as something new.”

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. They weren’t pleased about being the inspiration for human experimentation. It was distasteful.

            Everyone’s eyes landed on them. Sebastian was the only one who knew they had been a human before dying and becoming a demon. Now they all did.

            “And so, I began to wonder, if there is one way for a being to return to some form of life, are there others?” Undertaker smiled. “What would happen if there was a sequel after the endings of the Records? What would happen to the bodies of flesh that had lost their souls and whose memories had come to an end if I added a continuation to those very memories? Souls alone are all Grim Reapers hunt, after all. The ‘bodies’ and the ‘memories’ in their brains still remain in this world.”

            “Come on,” said Grell incredulously. “You’re telling me you edited their Cinematic Records?”

            “Well, now, why not use your powers and have a looksee at their records for yourself?” said Undertaker, pointing to the reanimated corpses.

            Grell didn’t need another suggestion. She jumped up and sliced through two corpse’s heads, channeling the abilities of a Grim Reaper to see their records. The film strips flew out, displaying the people’s deaths. And then came the extra strips. Undertaker in a top hat and mustache dancing and posing for pictures.

            “Hey! What is this?!” cried Grell.

            “This is…!” exclaimed Sebastian.

            “That’s…!” said (Y/N).

            “What’s going on?!” asked Ciel.

            “ ‘The End’ title of a Cinematic Record, which arrives arm in arm with death never appears because I attached counterfeit memories to the records, like so,” said Undertaker, giggling as he watched his own silliness. “And to my surprise, the flesh, under the mistaken notion that ‘my life continues on,’ began moving on again without its soul.” He sighed and shrugged. “Though it didn’t end up like the exception I’d found before, it was still interesting.”

            “My body was burned to ashes,” said (Y/N) with a sharp smile. They refused to acknowledge everyone’s stares, and they held their head high at the mention of their human life. “So your experiments were never going to create a being like me.”

            “True.” Undertaker grinned. “But everyone starts somewhere, and my creations did end up having some interesting reactions to their new ‘life.’ You see, all living beings instinctively attempt to make up for what they lack. If their bodies are wounded, they try to close the wounds. If their spirits feel isolated, they seek others to alleviate their loneliness. So they also instinctively desire what they lack, and in seeking their ‘souls,’ they attempt to rip open the bodies of living humans. In order to even out the balance of their never-ending Cinematic Records, you see?”

            “So that’s why they came after our souls when they couldn’t see or hear us?!” realized Ciel.

            “Even though it’s impossible to make another’s soul one’s own…” Undertaker’s eyes grew serious for a moment before lightening with a grin. “I can temper with Cinematic Records, but I cannot create souls. I experimented plenty, but most of them became no more than dolls of flesh without an ego. And so I call them thus—neither living, nor dead. They are ‘Bizarre Dolls,’ warped puppets.”

            Ciel’s eyes narrowed, and he gritted his teeth. “Even bad taste has its limits.”

            “If you cannot understand their beauty, you have a quiiite a ways to go, my Lord.” Undertaker strolled to one his Bizarre Dolls, dressed in a white gown, and held her. “White, waxen skin that has been sewn together prettily in semblance of their living selves. Mouths that no longer clamor loudly or spit out lies. Are they not more beautiful now than when they drew breath?”

            Ciel covered his mouth. “I’m going to be sick!”

            (Y/N) agreed the ordeal was quite distasteful. Bringing humans back from the dead wasn’t a good idea. Witches and scientists and doctors and priests had all tried it, and it never ended well. This was just another example of the half-life and emptiness that awaited the beings “brought back.” (Y/N) had returned as a demon due to their…situation as a human and their choice to damn themself. Even they didn’t understand the logistics entirely, but they knew that weren’t an experiment and their return was different than the corpses around them. This was a crime against nature. (Y/N) was not.

            “That may be how you feel, but there are humans who desire these bizarre dolls, you know?” Undertaker smirked. “These children don’t feel any pain or fear. They single-handedly desire souls and devour the living. What say you? Do they not make the best military animals?”

            “What?!” said Ciel. Even Sebastian and (Y/N)’s eyes widened at the idea.

            “Those eccentric fellows said they wanted to see just how useful these could be, so I decided the experiment by tossing the same number of ‘Bizarre Dolls’ as live humans onto this luxury vessel,” explained Undertaker. “Who and how many will be left standing when the killing ends?”

            What use could a reaper have for money that governments pay? thought (Y/N). It doesn’t make sense after he got onto this for philosophic reasons. So what’s he playing at? Now wasn’t the time to consider Undertaker’s motivations, though, since he was clearly a bit deranged and they were dealing with a crisis.

            “…You really have lost your mind,” said Sebastian.

            “Tampering with souls…foolish,” said (Y/N).

            Undertaker shrugged and laughed. “I never imagined we’d run into an iceberg, though. Having quit being a Grim Reaper, I don’t have my list anymore and all. Well, at least I’ve been saved the trouble of making this ship sink, so it’s a matter of killing two birds with one stone.”

            “This ship was never meant to make it to America,” said (Y/N) in understanding.

            “Because of you all, more humans survived than I’d expected. Will I get a scolding for that?” wondered Undertaker playfully.

            “The more I hear, the more we can’t overlook this,” said Grell, hands on her hips.

            “No doubt, it’d be mind-blowing to allow a Grim Reaper to warp death,” said Ronald. “All the same, he ain’t wearin’ specs. Is he one of those ‘deserters’ we get once very blue moon?”

            “I don’t care what he is. Anyway, a Grim Reaper interfering with life and death in the human world is against the rules,” said Grell. “Tying him up and turning him over to the higher-ups would also seem to be the most efficient way to get him to reveal the workings of the moving corpses, hm? And…” She glared at Undertaker. “…on top of your breach of conduct, I shan’t forgive your sin of harming a girl’s face! I shan’t forgive you, even if you are a total dish!”

            Grell jumped at Undertaker, but he blocked her again. “Oopsie!”

            Ronald grinned and launched at Undertaker. “I got your ba—Ah!”

            Sebastian’s kick sent him flying before he could hit Undertaker.

            “Bassy! What do you think you’re doing?!” cried Grell.

            “We cannot allow you to haul him away,” said Sebastian.

            “We ourselves are tasked with presenting the truth before Her Majesty, the Queen,” said Ciel. “We mustn’t let him escape!”

            “And so we shall take him into our custody,” said Sebastian.

            “Personally, I think it would be best to get rid of him before he causes more issues tampering with souls, life, and death, but I’m a little outnumbered right now,” said (Y/N). They smirked. “However…if the opportunity presents itself…”

            Sebastian glanced at them. He hadn’t anticipated them also competing for their own goal. “(Y/N),” he said.

            “Sebastian,” responded (Y/N). “Don’t worry, I won’t attack you. I just won’t pull my punches against Undertaker.”

            Sebastian considered. “Fair enough.” They were still on his side; he’d just have to be quicker than them at securing Undertaker.

            The reaper in question giggled, amused at what he had referred to as their “dance” around each other. Even now, Sebastian allowed (Y/N) to do as they pleased and respected that autonomy, and (Y/N) acted independently while respecting Sebastian’s orders.

            “Hey! This is a Grim Reaper concern,” said Grell. “Outsiders should stay out of it!”

            “This is my duty as a butler. I humbly ask that outsiders refrain from interfering,” said Sebastian.

            “Stoic as usual, Bassy. You do know how to get my blood rushing!” Grell grinned at Sebastian and (Y/N). “Fine, then! If you’re raring to go, we won’t hold back, either.”

            “Grell, you don’t know the meaning of ‘holding back.’ Not that it really matters, though, since we can handle whatever you have to give us,” said (Y/N).

            “Then it’s simple,” said Ronald. “The first one to get him wins. And I don’t have any intention of losing to beasts like you!”

            Undertaker chuckled. “This is juuust like rabbit hunting. Now, then.” He smirked. “Who will be the hunted rabbit?”

            The four beings around him jumped into action. Sebastian drew knives, but before he could throw them, Ronald swung his Death Scythe at him.

            “Whoa there!” Ronald grinned. “My mistake.”

            (Y/N) swept by him, slicing at his clothing with their own knives. “Your eyesight is rather poor.”

            Sebastian took Ronald’s distraction and threw his knives at Undertaker.

            “Grim Reapers are all verrrrry nearsighted!” said Undertaker, spinning a sotoba and blocking the knives.

            Grell leapt into the air. “That puts you at a disadvantage!”

            She swung down, and this time, the sotoba didn’t block her. Whatever magic had been working before, Undertaker had stopped it. He grinned and kicked Grell in the back as her momentum carried her past him.

            Ronald zoomed towards him, and Undertaker hopped into the air. Ronald’s eyes widened, and Undertaker smirked. He struck down with a sotoba and dislodged Ronald’s spectacles.

            Ronald reached for them. “Damn, my specs!”

            Undertaker kicked him to the ground. “You’re still green if you’re relying on your eyes!”

            Grell caught the spectacles. “What the heck are you doing?!” She threw them back at Ronald.

            “Thank you, ma’am!” said Ronald. “Eh?!”

            A silver knife caught his spectacles and sent them flying away. (Y/N) threw more knives at Undertaker and the other reapers.

            “Hunting me with such tableware? I expected the cat to have more claws!” said Undertaker, giggling as he fended off the knives.

            (Y/N) grabbed one of his sotoba in their airs, and it cut clean through as (Y/N)’s claws came out, ripping through their gloves carelessly. Their eyes flashed fuchsia. “Are you sure you can handle my claws?”

            Undertaker let go of the sotoba and jumped back, grabbing another. “I seee~” He grinned out at the group as they gazed at him from around the hall. “Come, come. What’s the matter? Is this all you four can manage? You’re going to hunt me down, aren’t you?”

            “He’s really pissing me off,” muttered Ronald, finally putting his spectacles back on.

            “Let’s do this quick. The ship is listing pretty bad. We’re out of time,” said Grell.

            “You said it,” said Ronald, checking his watch.

            Ronald and Grell lunged for Undertaker, raising their weapons.

            “I can’t be worrying about my looks!” said Grell.

            “We’ve gotta attack head-on!” said Ronald.

            Undertaker raised a sotoba, and it glowed for a moment before he blocked them. Once again, it could parry a Death Scythe.

            “Again?!” shouted Grell. “I can’t believe this! A Death Scythe is supposed to be able to cut through anything! So how come you can parry our Death Scythes?!”

            Undertaker smirked. “A Death Scythe can cut through anything, hm? Don’t you find that catchphrase a little funny?”

            Grell gritted her teeth. “Well! It’s not funny to me in the very least!”

            “There is one thing, isn’t there?” Undertaker grinned. “One thing that it can’t cut through.”

            “You don’t mean—?!” Ronald’s eyes widened.

            The sotoba still in Undertaker’s control glowed brightly, and magic swirled around them. The sotoba’s silhouette’s combined into a single weapon, and Undertaker sliced through the air in a wide arc. Ronald and Undertaker fell back, blood pouring from wounds on their chests. They groaned and forced themselves to sit up. Everyone’s eyes narrowed on Undertaker.

            “That’s a…Death Scythe!” said Grell in shock.

            Undertaker’s sotoba had disguised his Death Scythe, and now he held it proudly. It was a true scythe, not hidden as any strange contraption. The hilt and staff were crafted into bones and a skull crowned in thorns. The blade shined in the light. Undertaker was just a Grim Reaper, but he stood with the strength and power of the human tales of the Grim Reaper.

            “I see,” said Sebastian. “In the presence of many Death Scythes, the motto that a Death Scythe can cut through anything becomes a falsehood.”

            “And he hid it in the fractures of the sotoba pieces, which is why sometimes they could block a Death Scythe themselves and sometimes not,” said (Y/N).

            “Don’t they get collected unconditionally when a reaper retires?” said Ronald.

            “I found it hard to part with mine as we’d been together for so long. ‘Twas suuuch trouble sneaking it out with me,” said Undertaker, stroking the blade fondly. He grinned and raised his Scythe. “Now! Shall I try hunting you down instead?” He smirked. “Just like the pitiful rabbits in the hunt you are?”

            He slammed his blade down, and the arc of its power slashed trough the columns and walls of the room. A piece of the balcony broke, and a landslide of tables and chairs fell down toward the group. Sebastian caught several, and (Y/N) broke any that nearly hit them, retreating to the staircase across from the falling furniture. Sebastian threw a volley of tables at Undertaker.

            “It’s no use!” said the silver-haired reaper with a grin and neat flick of his wrist. The tables fell to pieces at his feet. “Slicing tables is no different than breaking biscuits!” He blinked when the falling wood revealed no Sebastian in front of him.

            Sebastian slid into position behind him. “I simply wanted to get inside the wide reach of your Scythe.”

            Before he could attack, though, Undertaker turned and slashed at him. Sebastian sprung backwards, narrowly avoiding a cut from the deadly blade. He kicked up, and Undertaker was forced to jump up into the air in a flip.

            “You thought up an amusing notion, Master Butler!” said Undertaker as he flipped. “Then…I shall do the same!”

            Undertaker landed behind (Y/N) and raised his Scythe. Sebastian’s eyes widened, and his dead heart clenched in an unpleasant feeling of fear. (Y/N) twisted, but he grabbed their collar and dragged them to him. “Now, this is an amusingly familiar situation!” (Y/N) damn near hissed and flashed at him with their claws, but he threw them away carelessly.

            “I knew you would come,” said Undertaker with a dark grin.

            Sebastian was leaping onto the stairs directly in front of him, every instinct propelling him forward to kill and maim the man who dared put his hands on Sebastian’s love, his Felis, his, his, his.

            Sebastian pivoted as (Y/N) was thrown, and he threw out a hand to them. They reached back for him. So close, so close—

            Sebastian gasped as Undertaker struck down, and his Death Scythe sunk through Sebastian.

            “Humans are weak and frail, but it is surprisingly difficult to drag oneself through a human life…Master Butler,” said Undertaker. “You seeee, I’ve always been most curious why the likes of a noxious beast such as yourself would be so close to another demon and would play the part of a butler in a tailcoat.” He ripped his Scythe out. “I’ll have you show me your Cinematic Record.”

            Blood and film strips flew from Sebastian’s wound as his mind was thrown into his memories.

            “Corvus!” shouted (Y/N), reaching for him.

            Felis...

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[allsassnoclass]

HELL YEAH!!! can i get uhhhh #9, an I'm so proud of you kiss? pairing, fandom, etc is all up to you :) ill read it even if im not in the fandom go fkn crazy ily xoxo

hi @clumsyclifford!!! alrighty let's throw some fake college sports players in here.

jerejean: I'm so proud of you kiss

Jeremy goes to find Jean after a few minutes, weaving through the crowd of his teammates and the Foxes until he reaches the edge of their party's sphere, out in the sand where the light from the bonfire has no hope of reaching. He stumbles over Neil and Andrew, drawn hypnotically to the bright cherry of the cigarette they're sharing, but neither of them question where he's going or make any attempt at conversation. Neil simply tilts his head to the left with a knowing look, and Jeremy nods in thanks once he spots the shadowy figure sitting yards away in the darkness, looking out at the waves.

Jean doesn't look up as Jeremy approaches, chin resting on his knees as he looks distantly out at the ocean, where the horizon line blends too deep in the darkness to discern what is sea and what is sky anymore. Jeremy flops gracelessly down next to him, kicking up sand and checking to be sure Jean isn't shying away. He relaxes when he doesn't. Jean still doesn't do well with isolation, but he's an introvert at heart and needs his space. After the events of today, Jeremy isn't surprised that he retreated down the beach to be alone, but he also knows that it's the kind of alone that Jeremy is welcome to interrupt.

It makes his chest fill with warmth, being one of the people that Jean doesn't need energy to be around. It's a privilege that he doesn't take lightly, especially when so few people in Jean's life have been safe. For him to have found a group of people to love and be loved by in return is no small feat, and it's something that they've gradually cultivated together in the past year.

For a moment, Jeremy thinks about the first time he saw Jean in person outside of a court, watching the shell of a man cautiously approach him at LAX with only a few t-shirts, a tattoo, and years of abuse to his name. He would never have predicted that they'd be here now, only a few weeks shy of a year later. Jean has grown in ways too numerous to list, but Jeremy has changed, too. It's a mutual metamorphosis, made more important for the way that they've grown in harmony with each other, filling in each other's gaps while leaving room for the other person to stretch and flourish.

Of course, one other difference is that they're NCAA champions now. It isn't a new title for Jean, but Jeremy suspects that this one feels sweeter, more earned.

This is a win that Jean should feel proud of, one untainted by the shadow of black wings and bruises. A championship that has nothing to do with the number that used to be tattooed on his face and everything to do with the person he has decided to become.

"What are you thinking about?"

Jeremy tilts his head towards the quiet, lilting sound of Jean's words. His accent has lessened slightly over the year, either due to less necessity to use his French without Kevin around or being surrounded by people who never stop talking in loud California drawls, but it still colors his words like a swash of blue in a sunrise.

Jean never wants to return to France, but sometimes Jeremy wonders if he would enjoy visiting Canada or Haiti, somewhere that he could use a version of his native language without ghosts following him.

"Jeremy?"

Jeremy blinks, bringing himself back to the present rather than some unnamed future with the two of them wandering around Montreal.

"I was thinking about our win," he says when he can remember what Jean's original question was. Jean huffs, but the sound is fond. Jeremy can't see much in the darkness, but he can picture Jean's expression perfectly. He's not smiling, but he's softer, relaxed and open enough that Jeremy can read his intention.

"How does it feel to be a champion?" Jean asks.

"Amazing," Jeremy sighs, tipping his head back and remembering every hour of practice and hard-fought game that brought them here. Despite the backlash from his decision to cut down the line last year and all of the negative press surrounding Jean's transfer, they made it all the way to the championships and came out on top. It was a battle in more ways than one, but it was absolutely worth it for the look on Kevin Day's face when Cat stole the ball from him using a technique that Jean taught her, then slammed the ball down the court for Jeremy to catch and score.

The team as a whole has grown exponentially. Jeremy has never pushed himself harder, and it wasn't all sunshine and smiles on the court this year. Still, they held it together, and as turbulent throwing a former Raven into their midst was, Jeremy has never regretted the decision to bring Jean to them.

"It's sweeter because I could do it with you," Jeremy says.

He glances at Jean out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't duck his head bashfully, and he doesn't freeze awkwardly the way he used to when Jeremy would drop a sappy but sincere compliment months ago. He simply lets the sentiment wash over him, keeping his focus on Jeremy.

"I'm glad you are happy," he says. Jeremy reaches for his hand, fingertips dragging along his forearm and wrist until Jean turns to thread their fingers together.

"What about you?" Jeremy asks. "How does it feel to be a champion this time?"

Jean takes time to consider his answer. Jeremy listens to the distant sounds of their teammates and friends over by the fire and the gentle sounds of waves hitting the shore while he waits. A breeze gently shifts his hair, light and crisp enough that he nearly shivers.

"I didn't think it would mean this much to me," Jean says quietly. Jeremy squeezes his hand once, then relaxes, giving Jean the space he needs. "I knew that winning with the Trojans would feel different, but the Ravens won because we were expected to. You and I won because we deserved to this time. Because we fought harder and wanted it more."

"And you did it all without a red card, even though Neil was being annoying," Jeremy says.

"It felt good to beat him," Jean grins. "That was very satisfying."

No one felt like it would be a good idea to make Jean block Kevin, not with everything he's told them about scrimmages in the Nest. While he played with Neil at Evermore as well, it was never while Neil was playing striker, and Neil only features in a fraction of the traumatic memories that Jean has recounted. Jean has been doing great in his sessions with Betsy and has grown a lot in his recovery over the past year, but no one wanted to risk prompting a flashback during the championship game, when the eyes of the entire public and Ichirou Moriyama would be on him.

Jean seemed to enjoy playing against Neil, anyway. Jeremy still doesn't understand their relationship and probably never will, but it was one of Jean's best games. Neil ran him ragged, but both of them seemed satisfied with their individual performances, and Jeremy overheard Jean tell him to have a winning day while stealing the ball at one point.

It's taken a long time for Jean to be able to have fun on the court. Healing is slow and non-linear, Jeremy knows that better than most. The progress that is visible, though, is much more gratifying because of it.

Jeremy looks at Jean, tracing his outline in the blue shadows. He takes in the relaxed slope of his shoulders, the enticing tilt of his head, the self-satisfied smile that Jeremy can barely see gracing his lips in this light. He looks like he belongs on this beach, relishing in his win with dozens of people who love him only a few yards away, holding hands with someone who adores him.

It's amazing, what a difference one year can make. Jeremy's chest feels warm and full, ready to burst.

"Hey," he says, squeezing Jean's hand. Jean turns towards him with a questioning noise. Jeremy tugs on his t-shirt, coaxing him forward until he can lean up to press their lips together. Jean responds once he catches on to Jeremy's intention, relaxing against him and sliding his free hand around Jeremy's waist. Jeremy presses forward, trying to transfer as much of the feeling in his chest to Jean as he can. He curls his hand around Jean's shoulder, partially to draw him closer and partially for his own stability. Jean sighs against him, and Jeremy can't help but smile into the kiss.

When they part a few moments later, Jeremy watches the way that Jean's eyes take a moment to flutter open.

"What was that for?" Jean asks. Jeremy smiles and brushes his thumb against Jean's cheek, right over the small heart tattooed there.

"I'm really proud of you," he smiles. Jean ducks his head, leaning into Jeremy's palm. "You've come a long way."

Jean wraps his hand around Jeremy's, pressing it against his chest.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Jeremy."

Jeremy doesn't think he'll ever get used to the way his name sounds in Jean's mouth, his accent curving around it and voice soft as music.

"Still," Jeremy says. "I'm really proud of you, Jean-Yves."

Jean ducks his head again, but Jeremy can't have that. He reaches for Jean's jaw again. Jean knows him well enough to evade and kiss him instead, the perfect distraction. Jeremy is happy to let him get away with it, because that was his end goal anyway.

They stay on the beach together for a long time. When their friends eventually find them, Jeremy watches the way that Jean lights up as Cat tackles him in a hug and he playfully banters with Kevin, two things that would've been impossible a year ago. Jeremy keeps hold of his hand, both of them on top of the world with no plans on coming down.