#insert ajax

[graveantics]

Read my mind (and heart)

A drabble i made back in march about a mind reading!reader and a pathetic yearning loser childe

*italics for thoughts

"You're avoiding me."

You do nothing but avoid his eye contact, trying to let go of the grip he has on you. But he noticed and tightens his grip Don't run away from me again.

"....I've been busy." No you haven't.

"No you haven't." Oh hey that's what you just thought.

"Did...You find out..? Is that why you're avoiding me?" he looks at you. Do you hate the idea of me being in love with you that much.

His thoughts stab into your guilty conscience. "I..Um. May have known from the beginning." Silence from Childe's end. However not very similar, are his thoughts.

How!? Did Xiao tell them. Was I really that obvious. DID HE TELL THEM ABOUT THE SONGS—

"Please stop thinking." He blinks at your words. His normally crowded mind is finally quiet since the first time you met him. "Xiao didn't tell me anything, and you weren't too obvious." Childe's brows are furrowed, you watch his expression shift from shock to understanding as he puts the pieces together. "Did you...read my mind...?"

This time it's your turn to be silent. You only nod, with eyes averted away. The overwhelming guilt that you've held since developing this power envelops you.

"I'm really sorry, it's incredibly intrusive of me. And I don't really know how to NOT do it so I couldn't help it. I understand if you think it's freaky of me to be knowing your secrets—"

I told my friends I'd gladly write a 5000 word essay on how beautiful you are when you smile.

"W..What?"

I bought clothes online that are couples special because I imagine us wearing them on dates

"Childe!"

I didn't come in on Valentine's day because i got so excited about giving you chocolates, That I couldn't sleep the whole night and passed out till noon.

"YOU WHAT?"

"You really can read my mind." Childe finally speaks.

"You tested me by airing out all your embarrassing secrets? You really have no shame Childe."

He only grins at that, with red visibly tinting his cheeks It is embarrassing, so much that I want to bury myself alive. But that means you know how serious I am about you. He grabs your hand, it's warm. The sound of his heart and real voice overlaps.

"I wouldn't be able to hide it from you forever. I like you a lot, [name]."

[genshin-scenarios]

across the spiderverse!

Summary: We’re back with more guys in the Spiderverse AU! For more like this but different characters, check out my previous Spiderverse parts one and two! My pinned post also has more about Lyney’s route if that’s your thing.

Characters: Childe, Albedo, Scaramouche, Dahlia

Warnings: Reference to details of Scaramouche and Albedo’s lore, but otherwise no large spoilers! Very brief mentions of injuries, kidnapping, human experimentation, blood drinking (vampires) and surgeries. (It sounds bad but this post is safe for general/teen audiences I promise.)

Childe

Your life as Spiderman is pretty uneventful until the masked villain Tartaglia shows up in town — around the same time a new cutie is enrolled in your highschool (completely coincidental, you’re sure)

Childe’s villain persona, Tartaglia, is basically his Foul Legacy form (and a version of the ‘Green Goblin’ in your world, flying around and causing explosions). ‘Tartaglia’ kind of takes over Childe’s mind and he isn’t completely in control of it — leading to wreckage in the city and general chaos that the regular him probably wouldn’t like. 

On the bright side, even Tartaglia draws the line at harming children! One time, you see a mix of headlines on the news: ‘Tartaglia attacks’ to ‘Supervillain protects kids?’ 

Childe fell into the abyss during his childhood (yes, it exists even in this modern AU) and gained an unknown power that turns him into Tartaglia! After some time he gets a hold on his persona, though, so your villain x hero fights slowly grow into something he’s more conscious for.

Anyways! Childe is also your new classmate who’s taken a liking to you from day one (call it instinct or whatever, but he could feel that you were something special.) 

Later on, your bond is less determined by your superhero and supervillain statuses, but more on how you’re both not quite human. Childe feels less alone and dangerous around you — and what can be better than having the love of his life beat his other self into submission keep his alter ego in check? The main thing he worries about is doing irreversible damage, so technically speaking this is a very romantic and ideal life you’ve got!

Ah, but backtracking to how you reveal your identities: …Well, Tartaglia kidnapped you once, for the purposes of a date. (Do not try this at home.) During which you found out that it was Childe behind that mask and was so surprised that you called him by his legal name (“Wait, don’t scream! It’s just me!” “Ajax?!”) 

At this point, he has a handle over ‘Tartaglia’ enough that he’s just acting like his usual self (save for his freakish strength and agility). Childe explains that he wasn’t planning on kidnapping you (just daydreaming about it) but sensed something dangerous was around → turns out he wasn’t being delusional and it was a Doc-Oc spying on you situation (Dottore), which will become more relevant in Season 2 (stay tuned!) 

During this impromptu kidnapping-date you have an entire crisis because sure you had a crush on Childe but this is crazy! Are you supposed to just pretend this never happened the next time you’re Spiderman?

A few weeks later Childe gets injured really badly from a fight (abyss creatures came out of some rifts and Tartaglia unexpectedly cleared them out before you) — so you end up taking him in for medical treatment because, well, the police would otherwise unmask him, and even though Tartaglia was annoying he never did anything unforgivable. And you’d still like the chance of potentially dating him if this works out.

There’s a whole arc of you bonding throughout his recovery, resting in your room and hiding him from your family and friends (his injuries are too severe to make excuses for.) But now that both your identities are revealed Childe feels like a fool because damn, he really did just reveal his identity to his ‘rival’ all because of a crush (to be fair, he didn’t care for the secret identity thing too much in the first place.) 

You learn that Tartaglia was a type of self-defense mechanism that developed from when he fell into the Abyss. When placed in a regular modern world however, his instincts to fight for survival still linger.

—Yet all things considered, this could’ve ended really differently if you just decided to turn him in: ‘You must’ve found me really cute, huh? Was it my boyish charm?’ ‘No, it was your cyclops mask’ ‘...Now I see that spider-snark.’

Tartaglia would still cause trouble on occasion and you’d be the one to reel him in (just a little less violently than usual, though Childe does request for you to ‘treat him rougher’ at times. And you don’t know how to respond because whacking him on the head is just giving him what he wants.)

Sometimes you have encounters that are more akin to playfights, and whenever Childe does get the upper hand and cages you in, leaning close… you realise that maybe sparring is one of your love languages too — not that you’d ever admit it. You’re still in disbelief over the last time you arrested him as a joke:

’Oh? What’ll you do with me now that my hands are tied?’ 

…Next time, you’ll throw him off the building. There’s no way this ginger has that much of a grip on you!

Albedo

You were bitten by a radioactive spider that escaped from Rhinedottir’s lab! Rhinedottir is a super-genius scientist who specializes in creating synthetic life, who only realized the connection after Albedo did a sweep of their lab and found a test-subject missing.

So of course, Rhinedottir assigns him to investigate who you are. This is a great opportunity to study how the spider’s changed your biology, after all! 

It takes about a month for Albedo to figure out that Spiderman is none other than his own classmate in high school — he may be a synthetic human, but has been living more or less like a regular person since his body functions the same (needing to eat, breathe, and age). 

With his heightened intelligence and senses, Albedo does act a little inhuman sometimes — but that’s mostly because Rhinedottir was his main parent figure and less to do with his genetic makeup.

You guys never interacted before because of how big the school cohort is, but this year you were sorted into the same class! Shortly after Albedo sussed you out, you started to sense that eyes were on you via your spidey-sense, but couldn’t figure out who it was. Eventually, Rhinedottir formally invites you to her lab and an agreement is struck: you’d visit biweekly for check-ups and tests, while Albedo will assist you if anything unusual happens due to your spider traits.

Said tests range from sitting in a scanner to doing crazy stunts, but at least Albedo is there as a cute lab assistant! 

He’s generally kind and understanding to you (which you later realize is only directed to those he’s interested in, due to his aloofness at school despite his delicate looks,) and you both build a rapport through mutual secret-knowing (you find out about his synthetic makeup, too, after Rhinedottir explains that this lab is top secret and that no one should know it exists.)

Albedo didn’t immediately try to hang out with you outside of the lab, but eventually you grow close enough to admit that being a superhero makes it hard for you to maintain friendships. You have to bail if a villain appears, and can’t really explain where you disappear to — which makes Albedo suggest:

���In that case, I could keep you company.’ ‘Wait— Really?’ ‘Of course. But I must warn that my hobbies aren’t as exciting as your usual work.’

Despite this, you learn that genius scientists aren’t also dubbed as crazy for nothing. During missions or lazy afternoons where you declare your boredom, Albedo suggestions on what you could do always manages to surprise you. ‘...Hm, too much?’ ‘I’m starting to wonder if I’ll have to arrest you one day.’ ‘If that day comes, I’d look forward to our fight.’

You went from thinking Albedo would be just a cool, calculated friend into wondering if you’re the only thing keeping him from running morally-questionable experiments. On the other hand, this makes him very objective when you’re struggling on what to do during a fight — and your values of saving the most people possible pushes Albedo to consider other ways to resolve situations. Sometimes he’d handle the rescuing, so that you can pursue the villain who’s getting away.

However— his quiet, ethereal charm is very much still there. And there’s just something disarming about spending golden afternoons with someone that knows the biggest secret in your life; sketching flowers and working on assignments as if you’re just human. 

Albedo also does a bit of research based on his own curiosities; such as… to what extent do your senses try to protect you from harm? Does it register flusteredness as a state of vulnerability, like when he gains a sudden boldness and traces his fingers over your skin?

Sometimes, you can’t process how he plays both sides of himself so well; an effortless student with a thoughtful smile and clever glint in his eyes, then a lab assistant who coyly asks about your day, knowing full-well that he spent the entirety of it testing your reflexes. But the biggest debuff you have is how you feel some part of you melt, or shrink, or burn whenever Albedo fixes his gaze on you like that. As if he’s drinking in every little detail and cares for nothing else but you.

You tell yourself it’s for science, but even Rhinedottir knows Albedo’s invested much further than that. He’s never had this much pursuing a line of enquiry, before. Maybe it helps that he has a cute partner?

On a regular day where you’re testing out a new gadget Albedo’s designed (he appreciates how tools of potential destruction become acceptably used in your hands), your world is thrown off-kilter when a lookalike appears on the street. An earlier product of Rhinedottir’s research, who now goes by the name Rubedo, or Ruby for short.

Scaramouche

The spider-hero Scaramouche is otherwise known as Kuni in his civilian form, known for his sharp tongue but otherwise perfect track record as Inazuma’s local hero. He has a somewhat strained relationship with Ei (his mother who owns a giant tech company, that everyone expects him to inherit) and tries to keep people behind a ten feet pole. But of course, being a hero makes him soften up a little bit, swallowing his pride to help a lost tourist or explain an assignment to a peer.

His canon event was losing Niwa, which he blames himself for (if only he’d decided to be a superhero earlier, he may have been able to save his friend.) However, he does find the strength to persevere after he saves a young boy from an accident, who then requested to be swung around the city a little more so that he can experience what it’s like to fly (Scaramouche tells the kid that he can’t fly. But the kid is not picky about specifics.)

The young boy has an unknown illness, and isn’t expected to live past adulthood — but is somewhat doing fine while Kuni visits him on occasion (normally as Scaramouche, to cheer him up.)

Kuni’s also put some of his savings into being an anonymous sponsor for the illness’ research, which did catch Ei’s eye but she knows better than to pry. There’s a little moment of connection where she pats his head and tells him the funding will go to good use, and he huffs before leaving to sketch out new gadget designs in his room.

Being flawless for most of his life (skills come easy to him), Kuni does fear deep down that when there’s something he finally cares for — something big — he may fail in a manner that is unsalvageable to him. 

That’s why being a hero has helped a little, as even saving a person from a road accident helps him realize that that’s a life saved, regardless of the scope. His suit and powers are electro themed, with the ability to collect static and store it in his body, enough to prompt lightning-fast dashes mid air or shock an unconscious person back to life. 

You attend the same school as Kuni and caught his eye because of your big aspirations! The thing is, you’ve never been vocal about that and always chased them quietly (what aspiration/hobby is up to you) — working on your projects during your spare time, sometimes in the less frequented spots on campus or the library. Both of which Kuni is familiar with

There’s just something about the focused pinch in your brow and little smiles — it’s cute, and endearing, and maybe he’s projecting a little but whatever — you’ve just charmed him without even realising he’s been crushing on you. And eventually, Kuni takes some chances to interact with you more, both as a student and Scaramouche.

He’s often reading, listening to music, or sketching tech ideas in his notebook (it has a lock on it courtesy of his paranoia) — borrowing you his pen whenever yours runs out of ink or offering to show you a quieter corner when the noisy kids have taken over the main hall. Then as a hero, he’s saved you a couple of times from normal-human nuisances and swinging you to campus when you’re late and frazzled!

Scaramouche is more mellowed out around you because the mask helps him be less self conscious, while Kuni is reluctantly nice (still prickly). But once you find out about his identity, you'll be one of the only people that know of just how much good he's done for the world. He’ll start to openly shift between ‘both sides’ of his personality, which is kinda hilarious whenever his civilian sassiness comes through during his patrols (he’s very much a smart-mouthed spiderman). 

Your romance does develop, but there's sort of an odd love triangle before you found out his secret (his fault for approaching you in both forms). The breaking point is when you’re gazing out of your bedroom window (can’t sleep) and Scaramouche knocks on the glass. A short late-night rendezvous occurs, where you vent (without too much detail) to the stars.) And that’s when Kuni realizes that he really can’t screw this up.

Once you’re official, you’ll start to see parts of Scaramouche in Kuni and vice versa. LIke when he rescued Childe once and you could tell he really didn’t like the idea of bridal carrying the guy to the infirmary, so you volunteered to make sure Childe survives, instead. Or when a stray baseball almost hits you and Kuni effortlessly pulls you out of the way without a flinch. 

People say you've changed him but really you just made him comfortable enough to reveal the other sides of himself. The upside-down kiss trope also happened during one of your night-time escapes (yes it’s an ongoing theme) and it still lives rent free in his head!! He's a romantic deep down and now spends part of his time thinking of other date activities (he finds a match in you)

You’ve helped him on missions a few times (desperate moments where he can’t do everything alone), but the fact that you’re the first person he goes to for help — not Ei, not the police, not even Aether — is very telling of how much trust he places in you. All that echoes in his mind is the thought of you: resulting in ‘I need your help’ and your prompt ‘Just tell me what you need.’ (Yes you’re a little reverse of that Anna/Kristoff moment!) 

In the past, this may have been a moment where he feels his vulnerability threatened… but the idea of that isn’t even on his mind. He knows you — that just shows how far you’ve both grown!

Dahlia

Note: very brief biblical and church themes used, mentions of you as a type of monster/demon as perceived by the public. Feel free to skip Dahlia’s entire part if you aren't comfortable with these!

In a gothic medieval city without much tech and a strong Cathedral vibe… You're a vigilante hero who solves crimes in morally questionable ways (by the public's strict standards, at least). 

You're a vampire-spider with the ability to paralyse people with your venom! No other side effects exist, for now, but you do have an increased appetite for foods high in iron, and the change in your physical features (fangs and unnatural color of your eyes) are becoming harder to hide. 

At first, they’d only appear whenever you were using your powers. But as you get used to swinging around and climbing on walls, they’ve been appearing whenever your spidey-senses kicked in. And you have a bad feeling that if nothing is done, they may be on display forever.

You haven't committed any actual crimes, but the nature of your vigilantism and blatant disregard for the local police puts you on a general ‘wanted’ list. Open-minded folk thank you for your help while others call you a monster that needs to be caught by the Church. Deacon Dahlia is an important person in said Church but he doesn't really think there's a need to start a hunt; true to Barbatos’ ideals, he’s one of the more carefree and understanding figures amongst his peers, well-liked for his graceful demeanor and ability to keep calm under any and all pressures.

…That is, until you break into the Cathedral’s gardens and kidnap him one day, out of desperation when your spidey-traits don’t seem to be turning back like they should. Your fangs and eyes won’t be possible to hide from your friends and family — which will either land them in a tight spot as they try to keep your secret or land you immediately behind bars! 

Your intent was to ask for his help in a way that hopefully keeps your identity secret. Dahlia and the other deacons and deaconess’ have the ability to heal people from illnesses (small miracles enabled by Barbatos through their prayer), so surely he can do something! Fix your features, or take away your ‘curse’ altogether — anything works! (At this point you’ve been trying to do good as a hero, but it was mostly prompted by just horrible things happening in front of you that you couldn’t ignore. You’re still very early into your career.)

But, of course, Dahlia accesses your strange demeanor, request, and mode of approach (next time don’t commit borderline blasphemy by kidnapping Barbatos’ Herald) and finally tells you that he doesn’t have the answers you’re looking for. Blessings are for regular, small sicknesses — not exorcisms or curses like you described.

It’s not anger or frustration that fills you, but instead a hollow sense of helplessness. ‘...What am I going to do?’

Dahlia was just going to leave, now that you don’t seem intent on keeping him on the Cathedral’s rooftop — but pauses. He looks at the way you’ve lowered yourself onto the ground and buried your face against your knees, and asks:

‘What did you need my healing for?’

The dam breaks. You tell him everything — the day you got turned, poisoned by some animal in the woods, to the first time you used your powers to this morning, when your features transitioned fully. It all spills out without mentions of your personal background, but Dahlia gets the idea and decides to help you.

You look at him warily, your surprise strong enough for him to sense even with your disguise. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. So long as you help me with a matter of my own…’

Thus begins an odd dynamic of you using a spare room in Dahlia’s private quarters (being Barbatos’ Herald does have its perks of extra living space), in an almost beauty and the beast type of way (except the only thing making you the beast is your spider-powers, and Dahlia is only a little surprised — mostly intrigued — by how your eyes have turned into an unnatural variant of its original color, while your fangs seem to be made for delivering venom, but not exactly for eating meat like carnivores do.) 

He’s a lot more laid back about this than you expected, helping you get basic necessities and food without letting any of the others in the Church know. It helps that you can hide and crawl outside pretty easily if needed, to hide — and you start to grow curious about Dahlia yourself when he finally gives you your mission brief — to investigate some small crimes around the city that he suspects are connected, based on Rosaria’s reports. 

The mystery quickly proves to be bigger than either of you imagined, and it becomes a battle to keep the peace in Mondstadt while nefarious forces linger in the shadows. Meanwhile: What will the public think when they find out Deacon Dahlia has enlisted the help of a monster, of all things? A person whose powers (in a world with only blessings from gods or curses from demons) is most likely from a dangerous, nefarious source? 

Because of how close you’re working together, you discover sides of Dahlia that even the longest term Sisters haven't seen before (mostly because he works with them in a professional setting).

“You're less pious than I thought you'd be.” “Well, no point doing that in front of the person who decimated Barbatos’ statue.” “...Touché.” “You’re helping with the repairs, by the way.” “How many jobs are you having one person do?!”

And the first time you hear a genuine, happy laugh fall off his lips? You know that deep down, even if Dahlia was to turn against you someday… You may never be able to truly cut yourself off from the friendship you’ve built. Even if it was only you visiting the remnants of it, chasing after phantoms in the courtyard where bloody flowers bloomed — you’d stand there and wait, eyes angled away from the shadows swarming beneath your steps. 

[tartagliove]

TO DEVOUR tartaglia x reader ✧ 1.3k words

childe would never wish the curse of being a vampire upon you. but you eating a pomegranate paints such a pretty picture that he can’t help but give in to some of his desires.

tags and warnings ✧ vampire!Childe, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used), he’s so obsessed with you, sfw but suggestive, finger sucking, he licks you. note ✧ hm. i’m having Tartaglia lick reader in a lot of my fics… um. anyway. this idea came to me as I was eating pomegranate last night! it falls after the events of my vampire!Childe fic (bloodlust!! blood…love?) coming on february 14th and since I couldn’t figure out how to put it into the fic, I’m sharing it separately. hope you enjoy!

vampire!Childe hears you before he sees you.

The pomegranate skin tears beneath your hands, each seed plucked from the white membrane with a soft snap. The arils pop, bursting between your teeth before the seeds crack under the pressure.

Your signature scent of vanilla and cinnamon sugar grows stronger as he finds you in the dining room, sitting at the table with a plate of the split open pomegranate before you. The seeds gleam a dark ruby under the steady, soft flames of the candles. You look up when he enters, a smile spreading across your face.

"Welcome back, Ajax. How was your day?"

He pulls out the chair beside you at the table, settling into the seat and resting his chin on his hand. His eyes track your every movement as you pluck more pomegranate seeds, his predatory gaze cold and blue, yet you do not flinch under his stare. 

“It was good! Very eventful,” he says.

There’s a satisfied curve to his lips. You raise an eyebrow, noting the healthier tint of pink beneath his skin as your fingers work to loosen some seeds. “Tell me, who had the misfortune of fighting you today?”

His smile turns into a full-blown grin. Of course you’d be able to tell. “It was a shapeshifter today. I don’t think I got to see its true form, but that doesn’t matter. The forms that it changed into during our fight were exhilarating enough!”

He continues to tell you about the fight as you eat the pomegranate. The seeds crunch and a pleased hum leaves your lips as the sweet and tart juice spreads across your tongue. His eyes darken at the noise.

You don’t notice, only focused on the sound of his voice as you break off a new segment of pomegranate. As the flesh tears apart, your hand slips and a few arils burst under the pressure of your fingers. Dark red juice sprays across your skin and sinks under your nails. You let out a small huff of disappointment but carry on with eating the fruit. Each time you lift your hand up to your mouth with ruby kernels between your fingers, the droplets shift across your hand.

Childe watches the deep red juice trail down the back of your hand, meandering past your wrist. It continues to slide down your arm, glistening and taunting him under the candlelight.

He fails to realize that he stopped talking until you hold your hand out toward him, a small pile of pomegranate seeds resting on your palm.

“Do you want some?” you offer.

“No,” Childe manages to push out.

The rough edge to his voice makes you study him, taking in the way his pupils have almost fully eclipsed his iris. He had been staring so intently at you eating your fruit that you thought he wanted some. “More for me, then.”

You lift your hand to your lips, tilting your head back to toss the palm full of arils into your mouth. When you pull your hand away, he notices that your lips are stained a few shades darker than they normally are, a deep red clinging to them in a way that makes him think of you eating—drinking—something else. The trail of pomegranate juice that has made its way down your arm beads at your elbow, before the droplet falls onto the table with the softest plop.

Childe snaps.

His hand flashes out, fingers curling around your wrist. 

You look down, eyes wide at the way his hand flexes as he battles his own strength and desires, his fingertips angling away from you to protect you from his too-sharp nails. Eyes moving up to his face, you see his gaze is fixated on the pomegranate juice dripping down your arm. 

Realization strikes and a coy smile curls at your lips. 

Leaning in toward him, so close that he can feel the faint brush of air against his skin, you whisper, “Are you sure you don’t want any, Ajax?”

His eyes snap up to yours, all dark depths of the sea. When you give permission in the slight incline of your head, he raises your arm and lowers his head.

There’s a moment where he pauses. He takes a second to listen to the flutter of your heart, feeling the tremors of your pulse beneath his fingers. Though you look unaffected, your racing heartbeat betrays you. It pleases him immensely to know that he has this effect on you.

Then, Childe opens his mouth. Sharp and elongated canines come into view before his tongue darts out to catch the pomegranate juice about to drip from your arm. He locks eyes with yours as he continues to follow the trail of red staining your skin, his tongue warm as he laps and licks, not just tasting the fruit but also tasting you.

When he reaches the back of your wrist, he unfurls his fingers and turns your arm so he can run his tongue over your pulse and the thin skin where your scent is stronger. 

The pomegranate juice is sweet and tangy. If he imagines hard enough, the tang can turn into a more metallic bite, as if you had just fed off of someone—as if you had fed off of him, it’s his blood trailing down your arm and staining your lips red. At that picture, Childe pulls back from you. A moan escapes him as his eyes flutter shut, breaking eye contact with you for the first time for a shiver to run through him.

When he opens his eyes again, he finds you staring at him, eyes dark and wide, lips parted, enchanted by his beauty and in awe of the reaction you draw from him without having to do a thing.

He flashes you a satisfied smile, showing gratitude for letting him indulge in his vampire instincts. Childe will make it worth your while.

Pulling your arm toward him, he lifts your hand to his mouth. His tongue laves across the back of your hand, tracing the trails of red weaving across your veins and tendons. He licks the webbing between your fingers, scraping his teeth over the flesh between your thumb and pointer finger. Then he cleans your fingers, one at a time, putting each one into his mouth and sucking gently as his tongue works over them. He spends extra time at your fingertips, licking at the nails that have been stained a deep red. Yours are so different from his own, he muses, filed blunt so you can work without the fear of breaking them.

Finally, Childe pulls away. He is satisfied with how your hand is now clean, yet you’ve been turned into an utter mess. 

Your face feels too hot and you’re squirming in your seat. He can hear your heart fluttering away in your chest, sees how your shoulders rise and fall as you take shallow, rapid breaths.

He can’t help but tease you more. “What’s the matter, hm?”

He kisses your fingertips, then nips at the pad of your pointer finger. A whimper escapes your lips; the sound so sweet to his ears. You shift a bit more, so flustered under his piercing gaze as you struggle to come up with a response.

Finally, you manage to piece together a stammering, “W-what has gotten into you? You can’t just- you can’t do this to me!”

The grin on Childe’s face is downright devious. He stands, moving before you so his legs bracket your knees as he leans over you. “Do what? I’m just kissing you.”

“How was any of that kissing? You were devouring me!” Your eyes nearly cross as he slides a hand behind your neck and tilts your head back, his face hovering over yours with dark ocean eyes dancing in delight.

“Was I? Let me kiss you too, then.”

Childe closes the distance, lips slotting over your pomegranate-stained ones. And kiss you, he does.

note ✧ ahhhh I'm so •///• this man makes me sooooo unwell. writing this vampire au is making me lose it!!!! btw please forgive the inconsistent fic layouts, I'm still trying to find something I'm happy with ahh.

a little bit of writing trivia: I wanted to focus a lot on sound in the opening, because that’s a sense that has changed for Childe since he became a vampire. there also isn't too explicit of a mention that he's envisioning you as a vampire but I hope that still came through. I also didn’t want to mention the word “blood” until he’s imagining you feeding off of his blood. hehe c:

reblogs and comments are much appreciated; i'd love to know your thoughts on this!

[mystii-gur0]

Childe x Reader hcs. Except I'm honest.

You are not his top priority. He will drop everything to save you, but if it comes down to you or his family, or you or the Fatui, he will ALWAYS pick his family or the Fatui over you.

He is a yandere, just not for you. The Tsaritsa is his darling.

He feels guilty for being with you.

Lowkey if it's a modern au he calls you at horrific times in the night because he can't sleep and wants to make sure you don't hate him.

You CAN'T fix him

He doesn't like to be touched without warning

He won't tell you what's actually upsetting him, ever. Like if he's mad at you he'll be like "I'm pissed off" then refuse to elaborate further. Mostly because he doesn't want you to get upset with him for setting boundaries or smth.

he does always want to spar with you. Constantly. "Hey babe, wanna watch a movie" "no thanks, lets spar!"

He cannot make himself be attracted to you sexually if you are incapable of beating his ass

He's a dog boy but not in the cute way. In the Denji from csm way.

He gets jealous very easily, especially when you compliment or spend time with other people.

He does not let you touch the star shaped scars from Foul Legacy on his back.

His love language is acts of service and gift giving so he does like to spoil you a lot. He gives you the princess treatment.

If the Tsaritsa told him to break up with you, he would, no questions asked. He might be sad for a while, but he wouldn't like- fight his god to save your relationship. Your relationship he's not even supposed to have.

He's asexual. And is very disinterested in that kind of thing. He would if you really wanted to but he wouldn't initiate it. He'd rather spar.

He would never cheat on you. Ever. He would ghost you instead of breaking up though.

If you're stronger than him he stalks you lowkey.

[naomeii]

Hello! Here's my request:

Modern au where Childe and reader get into a particularly heated argument because he always comes back bloody, battered and bruised from a fight. Unfortunately, Childe ends up telling her he liked it better when she was ignoring him instead of nagging all the time, which shatters her heart. He tries to apologize but she's already out the door and staying over at her mother's house. Even when her mother reassured her that Childe does love her, it did little to heal her heart.

On the other hand, Childe was in shambles. He kept on trying to call, email, and text her but she won't pick up. He was left alone at their shared house, the meal she made had gone cold but he still ate it and yet, he didn't feel full. He ends up crying himself to sleep on their entryway.

The next day, reader returns to their home with the intention of packing up her things and leaving but is stopped by an exhausted Childe who follows her even when she tells him not to touch her. He notices her missing engagement ring (she had left it in their bedroom) and is terrified; he begs her not to leave him while sobbing and holding her tight. Eventually, his pleas were heard when she finally forgives him after he apologizes for snapping at her.

Metamorphosis.

—Pairing: Childe x F!Reader

Content: Modern au, angst to fluff, arguments

Childe's entrance into your shared apartment was marked by the tired shuffle of his boots against the floor. The faint odor of blood mixed with the antiseptic scent of a healing agent lingered in the air. He looked up, eyes shadowed with weariness, as you confronted him in the doorway.

"What happened to you this time, Childe?" Your voice was a mix of concern and frustration, and your eyes scanned his battered form with a mix of anger and worry. This had become a routine – him coming back battered and bruised, and you, waiting to pick up the pieces.

Childe sighed, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "It's part of the job, darling. You knew what you were getting into when we started dating."

Your jaw tightened at the dismissive response. "Part of the job doesn't mean you have to come back looking like you've been through a war every single time! Do you even care about how this affects me?"

Childe's tired eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of remorse. "I liked it better when you just ignored me, you know? Instead of nagging all the time."

As the weight of his words sank in, you couldn't help but recall the days when Childe was indeed all over you. His playful antics, the way he made you laugh until tears streamed down your face, and the warmth of his love enveloping you. It was a stark contrast to the current reality, where his flippant remark shattered the remnants of those precious moments.

"Childe, what happened to us?" The question slipped out, laced with a mixture of pain and confusion. "You used to care about us, about me."

He avoided your gaze, a hint of guilt crossing his features. "It's just the way things are now. We both knew my life was dangerous."

A bitter chuckle escaped you. "I knew, but I never thought you'd grow indifferent. I miss the Childe who used to come home to me, not this stranger who treats me like a burden."

His eyes softened, but it was too late. The damage had been done. You turned away, tears threatening to spill. "I can't do this, Childe. Not if it means losing myself in the process."

As Childe desperately reached out for your hand, the door swung open, as you quickly left.

"Wait, please!" Childe's voice cracked with desperation, but you were out the door, oblivious to his pleas.

In your tear-streaked haze, you hailed a cab, directing it to your mother's house. The city lights blurred as you tried to make sense of the shattered fragments of your relationship. The cab's interior provided a temporary sanctuary, shielding you from the unresolved emotions that lingered at the doorstep of your shared home.

Arriving at your mother's house, the front door creaked open before you could even knock. Concern etched across her face, your mother pulled you into a tight embrace, her worry palpable.

"What happened, sweetheart?" she asked, guiding you inside.

Through choked sobs, you recounted the argument, the hurtful words, and the irreparable damage that had driven you away.

"Sweetheart, people say things they don't mean when emotions run high. Childe does love you; I'm sure of it. Relationships have their ups and downs, but love can overcome even the toughest moments."

Her words, meant to console, offered a lifeline in the storm of emotions. Yet, despite her reassurance, the ache in your heart persisted. The wounds were fresh, the echoes of Childe's indifferent words still reverberating within you.

"I know, Mom, but it just hurts so much," you whispered, tears welling up again.

She held you at arm's length, her gaze filled with concern. "Take your time, dear. Healing doesn't happen overnight. If he loves you, he'll realize the impact of his words and make amends."

On the other side, Childe's attempts to reach you knew no bounds. His phone buzzed with unanswered calls and texts, each message a desperate plea for forgiveness.

+𝟗𝟗 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐮𝐦 <𝟑 3:33 am Y/n, please, just pick up the phone. I'm so sorry. I never meant what I said. I love you more than anything. 4:32 am I'm an idiot, love. I messed up, and I need you to hear me out. Let's talk. Please. 4:45 am ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 (Hey, dummy. I know I screwed up. I didn't mean any of it. I miss you... Can we just talk?)

The echoes of your silence were deafening. Each attempt to reach you felt like shouting into the abyss, the void swallowing his words.

Returning to the shared house, the remnants of your presence lingered. The cold meal you had prepared sat untouched, a poignant reminder of a time when warmth filled the home. Childe mechanically picked at the food, each bite a tasteless reminder of the void that now enveloped him.

The once-familiar walls seemed to close in as he wandered through the silent rooms. The solitude amplified the weight of his regret, and a profound loneliness settled over him. Despite filling his stomach, an emptiness gnawed at his insides.

Tears welled up, and he crumpled to the entryway floor, the place where the love you both had built now reduced to a battleground of hurtful words. The cool surface provided little comfort as he cried himself into an exhausted slumber, the entryway serving as a painful witness to the wreckage of a love he feared might be irreparably broken.

As the morning light filtered through the curtains, you cautiously returned to your shared home. The air hung heavy with the residue of the previous night's turmoil. With a determined resolve, you planned to pack your things and spend some time with your mother until the wounds of the argument had a chance to heal.

The moment you stepped into the entryway, you noticed a disheveled Childe, still draped in the shadows of sleep. His eyes, red-rimmed from crying, widened in surprise at your presence.

"Y/n…" His voice wavered, a mix of regret and exhaustion lacing his words.

"I'm here to pack my things, Childe," you stated, avoiding eye contact.

His eyes pleaded with you, but you remained steadfast. "Please, love, let's talk. I need you to understand."

"No, Childe. We've said enough," you replied, your voice firm. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, but you were determined not to let it sway your decision.

As you began gathering your belongings, Childe, propelled by a mixture of desperation and a genuine desire to make amends, rose from the floor. He moved closer, his hand reaching out involuntarily.

"Don't touch me, Childe," you warned, your eyes flashing hurt.

Childe's heart sank as he continued to trail behind you, the weight of your silence pressing down on him. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and he winced at the palpable pain in your voice when you told him not to touch you.

His eyes were red and swollen from the tears that had stained the entryway floor the night before. Yet, a glimmer of hope flickered within him, fueled by the desperate need to salvage what was left of the love that once filled their home.

As he followed you through the house, his eyes caught sight of your left hand. The familiar glint of the engagement ring was conspicuously absent. Panic seized him as he realized its absence, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut.

"Y/n, where's the ring?" His voice trembled with a mix of fear and desperation.

You glanced at him briefly, the weight of your gaze heavy with unspoken words. "It's in the bedroom. I left it."

Childe's heart raced as he hurried to the bedroom, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. The room, once a sanctuary of shared dreams, felt haunted by the shadows of fractured promises.

He found the ring on the dresser, its absence from your finger a stark reminder of the fragility of the bond they had built. The intricate design, a symbol of their commitment, now seemed like a fragile artifact of a love slipping through his fingers.

Fear gripped him, the gravity of the situation hitting him like a tidal wave. He returned to find you near the front door, the distance between you growing wider with each passing moment.

"Y/n, I—I can fix this. I'll do whatever it takes. Please, don't go," he pleaded, the vulnerability in his voice bared for you to see.

As you moved towards the door, a determined resolve etched across your face, Childe's hand shot out, instinctively reaching for you. He caught your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful. His eyes pleaded with yours, mirroring the desperate turmoil within him.

"Y/n, please, I beg you… don't go," he pleaded, his voice breaking.

You paused, feeling the grip on your wrist, the pull of emotions warring within you. Childe's sobs echoed in the silent room, the raw vulnerability he displayed tearing down the walls you had erected around your wounded heart.

"Childe, you can't fix this with just words," you said, your own voice wavering with the weight of the situation.

His grip softened, fingers slipping from your wrist to intertwine with yours. "I know… I know, but let me try. I love you, and I can't bear the thought of losing you."

His tears fell freely, staining the floor beneath him. The vulnerability he exhibited, coupled with the sincerity in his eyes, created a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you.

"I can't promise anything, Childe," you said, gently trying to disentangle your hand from his. "But I need time to think, away from this… chaos."

Childe, however, held on tighter, his sobs intensifying. "I messed up, Y/n. I don't want to lose you. Please, just stay. Let me try to make things right."

The conflicting emotions battled within you as Childe's sobs reverberated in the room. Despite the anger, hurt, and the shattered trust, a deep well of love still lingered within your heart. The sight of him crumbling before you, laid bare in vulnerability, tugged at those lingering threads of affection.

Taking a deep breath, you relented. Your free hand reached out, gently cupping Childe's tear-stained cheek. Your touch, though soft, held the weight of both love and reproach.

"Childe, stop crying," you whispered, your voice a delicate plea.

His tearful eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside their shared turmoil seemed to fade away. The touch of your hand, wiping away his tears, bridged the emotional chasm that had grown between you two.

"I love you, but this can't be fixed overnight," you admitted, your tone a delicate balance of firmness and compassion.

Childe nodded, his grip on your hand relaxing.

In the days that followed, the atmosphere in your shared home transformed. Childe, once a tempest of chaos and unpredictability, began to change. The realization of the pain he had caused you, coupled with the fear of losing the love he cherished, became a catalyst for a profound transformation.

His actions spoke louder than words. Childe started attending therapy, seeking guidance to navigate the complexities of his emotions and learn healthier ways to cope with the challenges that came with his role in the Fatui. The reckless impulsivity that once defined him began to give way to a more measured and thoughtful approach.

The wounds of the argument were still fresh, and trust needed time to mend, but Childe's commitment to change became evident in his actions. He took on a more active role in maintaining the home, shared responsibilities with newfound diligence, and made genuine efforts to communicate openly.

Gone were the days of recklessness overshadowing your relationship. Childe, now more attuned to your needs and the impact of his words, worked tirelessly to rebuild the connection that had weathered the storm.

While the scars of the past lingered, the metamorphosis within Childe created a sense of hope.

[magicalbats]

Sanctuary Part 2 (Childe/Foul Legacy x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 22,687

Warnings: afab!reader, nun!reader, monster fucking, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, piv sex, sex outdoors (in a graveyard), creampie, breeding, sacrilegious content, demonic possession, ritual magic, mentioned age gap, mentioned wlw

A/N: Phew! This ones a doozy. I had SO much fun not only revisiting this narrative but also getting to work with the same commissioner again, and I hope ya'll end up enjoying it too! I really channeled my inner Mary Shelley for this one (iykyk) haha. They wanted to remain anonymous again so without further ado ... enjoy! ❤️

⭐

I call upon you who are in the empty air, 

You who are terrible, 

Invisible, almighty, a god of gods

You who cause destruction and desolation, 

You who were driven out of Teyvat and have roamed foreign lands, 

You who shatter everything and are not defeated, 

I call upon you …

*~*

It is a rare day when the permanent Snezhnayan chill is not so great that you can take solace out in the courtyard amongst the barren limbed trees and the hardy snow ferns that dot the ground. You are not entirely alone though as people mill about between the gated entrance at the front of the compound and the looming stoic facade of the ancient church but it’s the nearest thing to privacy you can find. And they leave you alone, thankfully, as most unsuspecting passersby would not think to assume interrupting a nun and her reading was in good taste or appropriate given the hallowed surroundings. 

Of course that might change if they so much as even suspected what you were reading was hardly of a pious nature, but you try not to linger on that thought for very long. 

Consideringly, you glance over the passage at the bottom of the page again. It almost sounded like an incantation to summon rather than to cast out demonic forces and their ilk despite the text clearly indicating that it was supposed to be an exorcism manual. You had some understandable doubts about it. 

What you held in your hands was not the sanctified and holy instruction of the church though, but rather the sort of trite pulp the common man peddled in the streets. It was not your first or even second choice to seek guidance from such unreliable sources and yet you’d been left with very little choice in the matter. They wouldn’t let you into the restricted section of the church’s library, for starters. Father Sluhovsky also wouldn’t divulge any pertinent information no matter how much you pestered him about the topics of bedevilment and spiritual possession, for another. Finding yourself essentially backed into a corner, you were left with no other option than to search for your own answers. 

Unfortunately those much sought after answers still evaded you and time was quickly running out. That horrid beast, that Foul Legacy as it liked to call itself, had been clear that you retained your freedom only until the next new moon which steadily approached ever closer even now. There were but a handful of days left until the fated hour struck yet you were no closer to ridding yourself of its presence than when you’d started. Nothing you’ve tried as of yet has worked, and all the while that horned fiend has only continued to throw salt in the wound with its clockwork nightly appearances in your dreams, mocking you with its mere existence. 

Your singular point of consolation over the last month has been that it no longer tears the clothes from your body as it first did and instead undresses you with an exceeding amount of slow care, and yet … 

Distracted by the buzzing memory, you don’t notice someone is reaching for your book until they’ve already plucked it right out of your lax fingers. You startle and snap your attention up at the thief, only to feel your stomach immediately plummet into the bowels of the earth. Yes, there would certainly be no forgetting your daytime burden either. 

“Lieutenant Ajax.” 

“Sister.” He shoots right back, grinning in his usual boyish way. 

The glare of the afternoon sun makes his coppery brown hair look aflame as he moves to sit beside you on the iron wrought bench seat with an accompanying crunch of his boots in the snow. Drawing yourself up to full height, you pin the rascal with an unamused look of warning that would have sent lesser men running for safety but of course that doesn’t work on him. It never does, you’ve quickly come to find. 

“Your manners are as lacking as ever, I see.” You snipe at him, your temper flaring while he settles in next to you. Perfectly sedate and casual about it, like he had all the time in the world to bother you. “I haven’t asked you to join me, if you’ll notice. It’s usually customary to wait for an invitation to be extended before you sit down.” 

“Would you have if I’d asked?” 

“No.” You hiss. “And for good reason. What do you think anyone who sees us will say about us sitting together like this? There are already more rumors than you can count floating around the church, and I don’t even want to think about what’s being said in town. And all because you don’t know how to quit. It’s shameful!” 

Looking really quite amused, Ajax reclines back against the bench and slips into a comfortable slouch with your stolen book resting across his thigh. “Aw, let them talk. What does it truly matter, after all?”

“What does it matter?” You echo him, incredulous. 

“Sure. My feelings for you are sincere enough and I’m confident that in due time you’ll even come to like me too, so what’s the problem? It’s not so unheard of for a sister of the faith to be courted by an overly ambitious man, is it? Besides … I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now if I was in the habit of quitting. It’s not really my style.” 

“So I’ve noticed.” You cross your arms with a deeply bothered huff. Oh, how he grated on your very last nerve. Your initial impression of him had proven to be spot on, and in record time at that. He was trouble through and through. “Although it’s not unheard of, that doesn’t change the fact that these are unwanted advances, Lieutenant. I do not wish to be courted by the likes of you or anyone else for that matter. I’ve told you this before.” 

“Perhaps,” He draws that single word out like an oath, putting far too much sly emphasis on it for your liking. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind. I’m not intimidated by a little challenge, you know. I can keep trying.” 

Your numb cheeks start to warm, and the sensation is instantly mirrored low in your gut. This hot pulse within your womb whenever you find yourself standing in his presence has become a dreadfully common occurrence ever since that demon left its tattooed mark on you weeks ago. It feels like an eternity has gone by in that time, an entire lifespan gone over such a short interval, but you’ve found no answer for this either. You were trapped with nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and the undeniable fact that Ajax had no clue about any of it doesn’t do much to lessen the sting to your soul. Knowingly or unknowingly, he was still responsible for this torment in some way. 

And you knew not how he could be so completely unaware of the evil lurking within him, but you’d tested it again and again to no avail. Not only did he not realize he was housing some one-eyed abomination on the spiritual level, he also didn’t even seem to believe that such things were real or that they posed any tangible threat to those in the physical realm. 

That probably explained why he’d donned a soldier's accoutrement rather than a priest's robes, and that is ever more apparent when he lifts your book from his lap to look at the cover. Brow drawing inward, he gives it a perplexed grimace. 

“Protection against demons and witches? What are you reading this for? Seems a little out there if you ask me.” 

“I didn’t ask.” You remind him, reaching over to primly pluck it from his hand but he’s quick to move it away. His arms are much longer than yours and, having no interest in wrestling it back from him, you give up and merely fold your hands in your lap with another sigh. “If it does not interest you then please be so kind as to give it back. Taking someone else’s belongings is a sin, Ajax.” 

“Much like lust is, no?” He shoots you a cheeky grin, one that stops you in your tracks and drains the blood from your face. You take a moment to nervously turn your head this way and then that way to check if anyone was standing close enough to have overheard that pointed barb while he busies himself with impatiently flipping through the pages. “Lifting curses? Tests to find out if someone is a witch? Look, I know it’s not really my place to pry but what are you doing with something like this?” 

“Keep your voice down! And if you must know, it’s because of you.” 

His head comes up immediately at that. “Me? You must be joking. I am neither witch nor curse.”

Ajax’s boyish laughter only serves to further irritate you. Quickly deciding you don’t care what any potential onlookers might say about it, you climb to your feet before turning on him with an aggressive flutter of your skirts. “Perhaps not, Lieutenant, but you are most certainly a demon of the highest order. Ever since we met that fateful day you have been nothing but a thorn in my side. You haunt me at all hours like some kind of ghoulish wraith and I can’t seem to escape your presence no matter how often I remind you that I am not interested. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.” 

Decisively snatching your book from him, you spin on your heel and make a purposeful beeline towards the nearest corridor entrance. That you hear his boots quickly trailing after you through the snow doesn’t come as a great surprise but it does make you gnash your teeth in annoyance. 

“Come on. There’s no reason to be like that.” 

“To be like what? Tired of your nonsense?” You breeze through the open doorway into the ground level of the monastery’s outbuilding with him hot on your heels, his long gangly limbs once again proving themselves a troublesome advantage he held over you. A few people glance up at your entrance but quickly turn away when they spot the scowl on your face. They would be of no help to you but they also wouldn’t dare to question you about it later when it was so plainly obvious that you weren’t happy with the attention you were receiving. 

Clutching the book to your breast, you march past the workbenches and the raging hearth so you can slip down the long stone lined pathway that would take you to the bell tower if you managed to make it that far. With him doggedly nipping at your heels every step of the way, the odds weren’t exactly looking good. 

“All I’m asking for is a chance. Surely that’s not so unreasonable?” 

“It is when it’s coming from you. Forgive me for saying so, Lieutenant, but I don’t think you know what the meaning of the word ‘no’ is.” You call back over your shoulder, the smart click of your boots on carefully laid and polished stones echoing down the hall. 

“Would that you’d actually said such to me, dear Sister, but I have yet to hear a proper rejection from you.” 

Footsteps faltering in surprise, you fumble for a response to that very incorrect assertion. It felt like you’d done nothing but tell Ajax how uninterested you were in pursuing a relationship with him over the last few weeks and little else. “That is simply not true. You know I - -“

His gloved hand abruptly grabs onto your upper arm, pulling you to a complete halt so he can then spin you around to face him. Breath catching in your throat, you peer up at him with widened eyes. His expression reads of determination and grim intent as he steps into you, backing you up against the wall that looks out over the private cemetery reserved for congregants of the church. There’s an open window built into the slate gray facade right next to your head, letting in the warming rays of the sun as much as the icy breeze that never quite seemed to lessen in Snezhnaya. You knew if you turned your head and glanced through it, you’d see the unmistakable silhouettes of grave markers in the near distance watching you in their silent condemnation. 

All at once you’re suddenly keenly aware of just how alone the two of you are in this largely isolated wing of the compound. There weren’t many who would have any need to visit the bell tower at midday, and although there were a handful of your fellow Sisters just down the hall back the way you came you hesitate to call out to them. This would look bad, wouldn’t it? They’d misunderstand the situation and assume you were toying with the young man’s heart on purpose, that you were some kind of cock tease. What if your vows were called into question because of this? You couldn’t bear the thought. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You finally dare to ask in a small, uncertain voice. 

“I’m trying to talk to you. Don’t tell me you can’t stand my presence enough to even do that much.” 

Working to reorient yourself, you pin Ajax with a sharp look of warning. “And what makes you think I owe you that when I - -“

“You accepted my flowers that day, didn’t you?” 

That stops you in your tracks. “I … I did, yes, but - -“

“Why?” He presses you, the fathomless blue of his eyes searching your face for an answer. It’s like he just couldn’t conceive any reason why you wouldn’t find him charming and agreeable, or why none of his gentlemanly attempts to court you have worked. By all accounts they should have. You know that as well as he does. 

Because Ajax was young and handsome in the way most men could only dream of being, and he was exceptionally talented too. He may have come from a base born family with only a small plot of land to their name and no real standing in the courts, but he was quickly making a reputation for himself in the military. Even you who usually ignored such gossip had caught the whisperings of people talking about the soldier with the burnished hair, both the good and the bad. He was known for being reckless but still getting things done as her Majesty decreed it and much to the chagrin of his senior officers. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone like that moving up in the ranks straight to the top. He might even one day be granted a title of nobility if he kept on the track he was currently on. 

Frankly the young man standing before you in all the folly of his youth was by every account a prize to be won and a very promising prospect for marriage. Any girl would have been lucky to find themselves betrothed to him. 

But you were not just any girl and you already knew the evil that lurks within him far too well to pretend otherwise. If he was similarly aware of the demon he never would have pushed you the way he does, nor would he look so much like a lost and confused pup that doesn’t understand why it was being denied the reciprocal affection it craved so much. It would have been a difficult thing to maintain your stance of disinterest had the situation been at all different, but the existence of that one-eyed monster ensured you would never be able to accept him as he was. Not now and, in all likelihood, not ever. No matter how much the mark tried to compel you otherwise there would be no reconciliation here. 

At last breathing out a terse sigh through your nose, you brace for what you were about to say next. “Do you truly wish to know why I accepted your flowers, Ajax?” 

“I do.” He insists. “Please tell me so that I can put whatever concerns you to rest. You don’t need to fear what I offer you. I swear it.” 

Oh, if he only knew the half of it. 

“Listen to me carefully. It’s not so much that I fear you, Lieutenant, but rather a part of you … I accepted your gift that day because I didn’t really have much choice, did I? When you make such a spectacle in front of the whole church, even the archbishop himself, what else was I to do? You forced my hand back then but I’ve told you many times since that I have no intention of lying with you. Flowers aren’t a marriage proposal, to be clear.” 

Ajax scoffs a mirthless laugh at that, flipping his messy bangs with a nudge of his head. It was a habit you’d noticed he usually only did when he was feeling particularly antsy about something. That often meant he was itching for action, his seemingly endless surplus of energy having reached its maximum capacity and thus urging him to go expend some of it in the boxing ring against his fellow soldiers. You could understand his frustration with you, of course, but you sorely hoped he didn’t think you were going to exchange blows with him to let off some steam!

“And what’s with that reaction?” You demand, expectantly lifting your brows in clear challenge. 

“I just think it’s funny, that’s all. You insist up and down that you’re a good, devoted, pious little nun but I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Sure, you may not like it but that doesn’t change the fact that you find me attractive. Or at least some part of you does? Either way, it may not be love you feel for me right now but lust I’m just as happy to accept from you. We don’t have to keep pretending like we’re at odds with each other. Despite what your books tell you, wanting someone isn’t a sin.” 

Embarrassed heat quickly marches across your face. So that’s what he’d meant with that earlier jab at you out in the courtyard. “You presume too much, Ajax.” 

“And you’re not a very good liar.” 

Your mouth flies open to spit venom at him, what little patience you had left for his antics thoroughly used up. But those slicing words catch in your throat when he reaches between you to place his gloved hand over your lower stomach. The gesture itself is possessive, demanding, and your knees instantly threaten to buckle right out from under you. Foul Legacy’s mark gives a warm pulse under Ajax’s palm to send simmering static electricity shooting through your extremities, lighting up every nerve along the way. It seems to pool deep inside your womb where it triggers some sort of primal reflex in your body that makes your cunt positively flood with slick. 

Seething at the throb, you look up at him in question. His face registers surprise for all of a single heartbeat and then shifts towards smug victory, sharpening to something mean in just the time it takes you to blink. 

“I knew it.” He whispers, squeezing your belly tighter. “You do want me. Want to feel me moving right here in your guts, don’t you?”

“N - no.” You wheeze even as myriad flashes of your nightly dreams that aren’t really dreams assault you in a dizzying rush. Foul Legacy had tasted you more times than you could count over the last handful of weeks, always taking that monstrous tongue to your cunt until you couldn’t conceivably take any more. Even when your menses came it hadn’t been enough to deter it from its goal of turning your body against you. 

Worst of all, it was working. Even before Ajax had put his hands on you you’d felt the distant stirrings of hunger curling between your legs. That’s why you’d tried to flee from his presence, to seek refuge in the silent bell tower where the general public was prohibited from entry. It wouldn’t have stopped any of the other church staff but it should have stopped him. 

He was apparently willing to follow you anywhere you might tread though, your constant shadow that took advantage of every chance he got to slip away from his duties in Her Majesty’s army just to track you down. 

And now that he was touching you, his broad palm resting unknowingly over the demonic tattoo etched into the skin just below your navel, you were flooded with phantom sensations and remembered pleasure. The flick of a wet, drooling tongue lapping over the seam of your cunt, the slow stretch of it entering you one mind numbing inch at a time and the roiling friction that soon followed while it fucked you senseless with it. But most of all you recalled that blinding rush of release, the soaring buzz of dopamine that shook you straight down to the core with each and every shuddering orgasm it managed to pull from you. It was exquisite. You might have even called it heavenly, were you not so loath to associate Foul Legacy and what it did to you as anything even remotely positive or good. 

Blessed Mother, your pussy suddenly felt so terribly empty. 

Panting softly under your breath, you drop your book and carefully reach up to twist your fingers into the front of his stately jacket. He releases a slow, audibly tense exhale as he bows his head close, giving your veil a brief nudge with his nose before breathing in deep the scent of you. A low groan rattles out of him and the masculine sound of it nearly makes you go cross eyed from how violently your body seizes up in response. You were beyond mortified to realize that you actually did want him. What he could give you. How he could make you feel. 

Knowing these thoughts are not your own but rather the suggestion of the demon mark isn’t enough to deter you, and you hesitantly turn your face into the bent line of his throat. “Please.” You whisper so quietly it barely registers in the chilly air. “Can you help me, Ajax? I - I don’t know what’s happening to me - -“

“Shh. It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise.” Nudging somehow even closer, pinning you fully against the wall now, he presses his lips to the crown of your head in an unexpectedly gentle and chaste kiss. At the same time his hand drags further down your belly to slip between your thighs, and you outright gasp when he cups you through the layers of your clothes. 

Just that is enough to make your cunt pulse, trembling wildly when he grinds the heel of his palm into you. The intensity of it makes you sway unsteadily on your feet but he keeps you upright where he’s got you pinned, sinuously curling his larger frame around yours even as he works to nuzzle his mouth across your cheek one coaxing peck at a time. 

You hesitate to do it but the compulsion is much too strong for you to fight it anymore, and you cautiously angle your face up to meet him. You’d been struggling against this tooth and nail for nearly a whole month now and the immediate burst of white hot static when he kisses you almost makes you regret your reticence. It was like the whole world had suddenly opened up to you in a rush of pure, unfiltered ecstasy, so sharp and overwhelmingly potent that you were feeling sensations you didn’t even know existed. 

And the way he groans into your mouth, hot and indescribably heavy, would seem to suggest that he was experiencing a similar awakening of the carnal persuasion. What was initially a tentative, guarded exchange, a first kiss borne from less than ideal circumstances, instantly morphs into something wild and voracious. 

Now Ajax kisses you like he’s trying to devour you whole, his breath coming out in quick, stuttering gasps while he fumbles to get your skirt hiked up. Your hands fly into his hair to tug and pull him in closer, and you go onto the tips of your toes to better accommodate the height difference. He doesn’t seem to particularly mind it either way though, and he just lets you eagerly writhe against him as he shoves your cloak out of the way. The hand not currently trying to worm its way into your bloomers gropes at your breast with a tight, pinching squeeze that makes you arch against him in mindless, hungry search for more. 

You’d known it was a dangerous game to humor his advances in any way but the reality of it is much worse than you could have ever imagined it to be. Your body is so fine tuned to his very existence, the smell of him, his touch, that by the time he finally manages to get his hand in your stockings you’re already soaking wet. Drenched, by all accounts, and he gasps in almost perfect unison with you when his finger takes a first swipe through your pussy lips. The copious slick is obvious even through his glove and you shudder at the press of chilled leather against your throbbing clit. You felt like you were going to implode in the most literal sense. 

“Nnghn, Ah - Ajax …!” 

Coming up from your mouth where he’d been mindlessly kissing at the corner of your lips, he now looks into your face with no shortage of awe and reverence. “Oh, lovely girl. You really wanted this that badly? You should have said something sooner.” 

You petulantly turn your head away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing the fluster that creeps across your expression. “I didn’t say you could call me that.” 

“Must we really fight right now? Hm?” Letting out a slow breath, Ajax once again bends close to press another kiss to your temple. He stays like that, content to be still against you save his hand which starts to work careful circles into your slit. It instantly steals the oxygen from your lungs and you issue a faltering mewl into the otherwise silent corridor, rocking desperately against the wall. 

How you wanted to curse him and the demon you knew he was harboring. Even if you’d had doubts prior to this, unsure if it was really him who was responsible for the nightmare you were being forced to live, this would have dispelled any such uncertainty. All he need but do was touch you and it instantly had you dissolving into sensitive shudders while your cunt continues to excessively drool all over his hand. It didn’t make sense otherwise. You were much too proud, far too sensible and level headed to give yourself over to someone like this just because. No one else made you feel this way, the mark didn’t respond to any other men you interacted with. It was only him. Him, him, him! 

“Oh!” You toss your head back, hardly even registering the scrape of your skull against the cut stone behind you as starbursts erupt across your vision. The intense throb within your cunt mirrored that of your heartbeat, wild and erratic, and incomprehensibly thunderous. Blindly, you reach up to fist one of your hands in the shoulder of his military jacket, fitfully yanking on the material when the cresting waves of pleasure climb that little bit higher. 

Your release was already fast approaching, an inevitability you wouldn’t have been able to stop even if you’d wanted to. But Ajax must on some level recognize the stricken look on your face, or the wheezing gasps that make your breasts heave under your frock, because he abruptly abandons your clit in favor of working his fingers further back. He follows the messy line of your cunt, slipping and sliding straight to your entrance where he unceremoniously dips two long digits up into your body, curling them inward as he goes. 

The sudden stretch accompanied with the internal increase of pressure sends you careening right over the edge almost immediately. You manage to let out one single, half stifled squeal of pleasure seconds before his mouth descends upon yours again, swallowing the sound and muffling your wordless cries while you shake and judder through your orgasm. The weighty presence of his fingers inside you seems to milk your squeezing cunt for all its worth, dragging out the spasms far beyond what it should have, and you issue a plaintive, dire tinged whimper against his lips as your eyes roll up to stare unseeing at the ceiling. Distantly, you can even feel the numbed sensation of tears tracking hot streaks down your face. Oh, what a shameless mess you must look right now. 

One piece at a time, you slowly start to come down from it some indeterminable amount of time later and he finally pulls away from your mouth when the shuddering waves gradually start to subside. Struggling to fill your lungs with enough oxygen, you weakly push at his arm. You’re quite relieved when he takes the hint and gently withdraws his fingers from your body before disengaging completely, slipping out of your bloomers and allowing your skirt to fall back into place. Bonelessly sagging there against the wall, you frantically try to make sense of what just happened. 

How had you allowed yourself to fall so fully under the mark's compulsion that you’d let him do that to you right here, out in the open where anyone could have happened upon such an unseemly sight? It was inconceivable and absurd. It was — 

You stare in fast mounting horror as Ajax lifts his hand and pops the gloved digits into his mouth, sucking the leather clean of sticky slick. A part of you almost doesn’t believe it, that he would be so crass and unapologetic about such a thing but it’s clear he has no propriety to speak of. More disconcerting, however, is the fact that it doesn’t repulse you half as much as you think it should. If anything watching him savor the taste of you actually has the opposite effect and your cunt gives a sharp, muted throb of interest. 

It wasn’t enough. You still wanted more. 

No, it’s not as simple as that. You needed it. 

“Ajax …” You practically wheeze, mechanically reaching for him with both hands now. “Take off your pants.” 

He goes stock still for a long moment, just standing there with his fingers half in his mouth. It makes him look even more boyish than usual, like a precocious child enjoying a treat of sweet batter he pilfered from his mothers mixing bowl when she wasn’t looking. But when he lowers his hand and peers into your face, it’s all man you see staring back at you. There’s a hunger, primal and timeless, reflected in the depthless blue of his eyes, and it just makes your pussy ache all the more for something of greater substance than a few fingers or a tongue stretching you open. You felt like you were going mad. 

“Please.” Seething at the intense pulse inside your guts, you grab at the front of his uniform. Shove the long drape of the jacket out of the way and set your sights on his belt buckle. Your hands shake uncontrollably while you fumble with the suddenly complicated latch but he quickly brings his own down to help you with it. 

“Are you sure? Right here?” 

The note of uncertainty in his voice doesn’t seem to align with the eager way he gets his trousers unfastened, in too much of a hurry to do anything else except yank at the placket to get it open, so you don’t bother with a response. You were far too frenzied to think straight anymore, regardless. All you knew with any certainty was that you were close, so close to absolution you could practically taste it on the back of your tongue. If you didn’t fulfill your purpose and take him into your body as soon as possible you’d — 

Voices at the end of the hall suddenly alert you and you yank yourself from him as though you’d been burnt. Someone was coming. That knowledge chills you down to the bone and sobriety crashes you into with all the destructive force of a battle ax, leaving you standing there breathlessly gaping up at him in disbelief. Surely you weren’t … you wouldn’t have actually gone through with it just now, would you? 

“Sister?” He asks, worry flashing across his face. 

Drawing a deep breath to ground your shaken nerves, you let it out on a faltering, deeply unnerved exhale. “Make yourself proper, Ajax. Quickly. Before someone sees you.” 

Hesitating, he surreptitiously glances down the hall where the voices and the sound of shuffling footsteps was coming from but his attention immediately swivels back around to you. Brows knitting, he distractedly starts to get his pants fastened up again. “We can go somewhere else. I could take you into town and rent us a room at the inn. No one would disturb us there and - -“

“No.” You hold up a hand to stop him from going on even as you struggle against the insidious tug of the mark on your stomach. Your womb felt like it was on fire, pulsing so hotly inside your body you almost worried that something was wrong. But you knew better than that. It just wanted you to give in and accept his offer without a second thought. You couldn’t afford to do that though. Even if it killed you in the process, you had to fight it. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Really, I am. I don’t know what came over me, just … please leave me at once. I can’t bear this another moment longer.” 

“But - -“ 

“I said no!” 

His mouth settling into a grumpy line, Ajax stands there and just stares at you another moment longer. You look away, refusing to meet his eyes now when you were overcome with some confusing amalgamation of guilt and shame, but that doesn’t seem to be enough to deter him either. He quickly finishes sorting out his clothes before stiffly bending to retrieve your fallen book from the floor which he holds out to you when he straightens up again. 

“Here. Take it.” 

Hesitating, you cautiously accept the offering and he breathes out a terse sigh when you still refuse to look up at him. 

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Sister. If you ever decide you want my help, you know how to find me.” 

Clutching the cheap manual to your chest, you listen to him turn to greet whoever was approaching the two of you, pausing only long enough to give a respectful bow before taking his leave. The sound of his footsteps on the stone walkway seem to echo in the space between your ears as you glance up to find Sister Darya and one of the parish priests sending you quizzical, if not vaguely disapproving looks. 

Oh, how could this day possibly get any worse than it already was? 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The now familiar sense of dreamy weightlessness clues you in on what’s happening long before you actually open your eyes to peer around. And when you do you’re greeted by a world flipped topsy turvy, with the far distant floor in place of where the ceiling should have been high over your head, and when you glance just to your left … 

A gasp rattles in your chest when you find yourself standing next to the giant brass bell in the tower. The mere sight of it standing straight up in the air in defiance of all logic and reason fills you with an immediate, sickening sense of vertigo inducing dread. Nervously, you turn your head in search of a way to get down — or up, as it were, but you don’t see anything at all that might be of help to you. Even knowing that this is beyond any shadow of doubt a dream doesn’t do much to dispel your fear of falling and you just stand there for a long time, too scared to move. 

Thankfully you were alone for the moment while you tried to sort through your available options, limited though they were, but you knew it wouldn’t last long. It never did, unfortunately. 

At first you’d tried to avoid sleeping at all in an attempt to escape the demonic presence that always seemed to lurk just at the edges of your consciousness, waiting patiently for you to drift off so it could make its move. It had worked for all of two days until you’d found yourself too tired to keep your eyes open any longer and you’d dozed off in the middle of morning service. That had earned you more than a few odd looks from the other nuns after they’d managed to rouse you again and, feeling deeply embarrassed at having been caught lacking in such a public way, you’d promptly given up on the idea altogether. At least like this you could meet Foul Legacy on your own terms, when you were good and ready to see its horrid face, and not a moment before. Or so you'd tried to tell yourself. 

But sometimes it liked to play these kinds of games with you. Much like that first fateful dream encounter some weeks ago, it appeared to be partial to hide and seek. You were always ‘it’ though, and you never got the chance to hide from it when its presence was all around you and it seemed to implicitly know exactly where you were within the dreamscape of its creation. This was, presumably, no different, but there wasn’t any conceivable place here where it could have been lurking around. What should have been the ceiling was decidedly void of anything at all save the bell and you certainly weren’t going to stick your head in there to check for any signs of a demon. 

Trying valiantly to calm your nerves, you suck in a deep breath and tilt your head back to peer up at the floor. There was a small hearth crackling in the corner, a steaming cup of tea set out on the low modest wood table as if the young bell ringer had only just stepped out for a moment. It was incredibly disconcerting to say the very least, the total lack of the foul entity further picking away at your already frayed nerves. 

You decide to pray about it and bring your hands together in front of your chest. This never did you any good either but the repetitive mantra does wonders to ground you, steeling your resolve for the nightmare you were about to endure. 

Just as you start in on the third reprisal, you hear it. A low chuckling laughter that sounds like it’s coming from all around you and nowhere at the same time. Your heartbeat picks up when it gradually rises in volume, like it was getting closer, before abruptly materializing into something tangible and real. Giving a small jolt of surprise, you bring your head up to look over at the bell. 

Foul Legacy steps out from the other side of it at an unhurried gait, monstrous head tipped back with the laughter that shakes through its unnatural form in rolling waves. Coming to a stop, it slowly glances over at you when the peels start to die down, fixing that unblinking eye upon you. The predator once again face to face with its favorite prey. 

“How quaint. I thought you would’ve given up on that by now.” 

“I don’t give up so easily.” You snip back, lowering your folded hands to rest against your stomach. The brief nudge over the tattooed mark makes you twitch, reminded of your earlier impropriety with its host, and it offers up another low chuckle as if it were privy to your thoughts. 

Pivoting on its heel, Foul Legacy starts to step around the bell to approach you. “Lovely girl, huh? I didn’t expect you to respond to such a cute nickname. My little bride-to-be is just full of surprises, isn’t she?” 

“I didn’t respond to anything of the sort.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes at it dangerously. 

Giving its head a brief shake, the demon comes to a stop in front of you where it bends at the waist to put its face right in yours. You hold its stare even when you internally quake at its close proximity, its hulking frame so much larger than yours even when it was folding itself in half to meet you on an even level. 

“You’re welcome to keep trying if it pleases you, little nun, but you should realize by now that you can’t hide anything from me. You have my mark. I can feel all that you feel, and know all that you know. There isn’t anything you can keep from me.” 

Its clawed hand comes up to sedately reach for you and, your uncertainty growing by the second, you slowly let your hands fall to your sides. With a truly surprising amount of gentleness, it presses one blocky knuckle into your lower belly where it nudges just so to make your breath hitch. A low simmering heat immediately starts up, making your loins curl tight in anticipation, and you shoot it a deeply frazzled look. 

“You wanted that boy.” It goes on, the sinister rumble in its voice making goosebumps erupt all over your skin to accompany your spiking body temperature. “You wanted him a great deal, didn’t you? So why do you still deny yourself the pleasures of the flesh even now, after all that I’ve taught you about what it means to feel good? Don’t tell me you doubted his virility and prowess.” 

Your face warms at its snickering laugh, and you proudly jut your chin up in defiance. “Mock me all you like, wretched beast. I won’t give you what you want.” 

“Oh? And what is it you think I want from you, sweet girl?” Straightening up, it starts to pace a slow, predatory circle around you. “If it’s your body, I believe I already have that. You wear my mark and in three days time the ritual will be complete. We’ll get to spend an eternity together. Just you and I, and that boy you like so much.” 

You draw a quick breath to insist that you don’t like him, an instinctive reflex when you were so unaccustomed to liking anyone at all, but the words catch in your throat. Was it saying that Ajax was actually included in this little love triangle and not a necessary interloper as you’d once assumed? 

“Ah, did that pique your interest? You’re so easy to read, love, even if I didn’t have a front row seat to every thought that crosses your mind.” 

Rounding your shoulders, you flick your gaze up to look at the horned fiend when it reappears on your opposite side. “You can read my thoughts?” 

“In a sense. But it would probably be more accurate to say that your feelings are transmitted to me through our bond and I get to interpret them from there.” Pausing in front of you, it once again reaches out to nudge at the spot just under your navel with a massive hand. “It’s not hard to guess though. You’re surprisingly sincere for someone who tries so hard to protect their heart with barbed wire and fortified walls. Subterfuge is not one of your strong suits, I’m afraid.” 

This time when it laughs at your expense you can’t quite stop the urge to lash out and smack its hand off of you, and you do so with an exceeding amount of satisfaction. Foul Legacy doesn’t seem at all bothered by it though, and merely lets its arm drop back to its side before resuming its earlier pacing. 

“I don’t understand why you and Ajax both are so preoccupied with my stomach.” You hiss, turning your head to track its movement and watch it step behind you again.  

“Oh, you’ll understand soon enough, my dear bride. You could have found out earlier today but you decided to deny the poor boy even when he was willing to do anything at all you asked of him. Not to worry though. I’ll personally show you just how much power you wield in that fragile little body of yours on the night of the new moon. Don’t forget. Time is ticking even now.” 

Something suddenly clicks into place in your mind, a missing puzzle piece you hadn’t seen before but which you now had no choice but to acknowledge. Idly, your hand slips around to protectively curve over your belly. “The ritual you keep talking about … it has something to do with my womb, doesn’t it?” 

Standing directly behind you now, Foul Legacy hunches close to practically fold itself over your much smaller frame and your eyes grow big at the abrupt nearness. You can feel the displacement in the air, the hot breath it sends racing down the side of your neck. It’s stiflingly warm, too. Unbelievably so for something that shouldn’t exist at all, a wraith without physical form. But where was that heat coming from if it had no flesh and blood body, no heartbeat in its broad barrel chest? Unless … 

“Mmm, are you finally starting to realize? That bittersweet tinge of terror you just felt was delicious. Go on, girl. Say it.” 

You swallow hard, practically choking on your frazzled nerves. “You … y - you share a bond with Ajax too. You’re sustaining yourself through his life force, not just using him as a vessel. Isn’t that right?” 

Another low, gravelly chuckle escapes it, except this time it’s right up against the side of your face. The sound of it seems to vibrate through you on an endless, looping echo and you violently shudder when you feel its tongue slip out to curl over your shoulder. Snaking through the static charged air, it tauntingly comes up under your chin and flicks a wet stripe over your pulse to leave you bristling in disgust. 

“Smart girl. I chose you to be my bride for a reason, you know. I was sure you’d start to piece everything together once you got over your initial … panic at the situation. Now I wonder what you’ll do about it?” 

“What is there to do?” You ask, hands clenching into tight, helpless fists. “It sounds like the ritual is already a bygone conclusion and I’m sure it’s much too late for Ajax too. What would you have of me, o great demon lord?” 

Humming a thoughtful, vibrating sound, Foul Legacy retracts its tongue and straightens up to its full towering height once again. Coming up alongside you, it rather ceremoniously holds out its open hand to you in offering. Like a stately gentleman extending invitation at a ball. 

“Come. I wish to show you something.” 

You hesitate, understandably wary of the monster and anything it said to you but there was no denying a certain curiosity pinging in the back of your mind. If you were truly already bound to it and had no way out then, you tried to reason, it probably wouldn’t hurt to at least have a better understanding of what was happening before the marriage rite commenced. Even putting that aside, it had never hurt you before. Not really, anyway. You’d feared for your life and your soul alike many times at the start of this ordeal, yes, but it never took those sharp talons to vulnerable flesh. Had never forced your body to accept anything beyond what it could comfortably accommodate. It wasn’t always easy but, if nothing else, you consistently came out on the other side in one piece, relatively speaking. 

If this was a trap of some kind, you were at least certain that your folly wouldn’t see you dead for it. 

So you reach out to slip your hand into its waiting palm, and its massive fingers slowly curl into place over yours. It’s almost comical, how greatly it dwarves you. But then the scenery around you starts to shift, blurring into an unrecognizable rush of movement that makes your stomach lurch up into your throat. You quickly squeeze your eyes shut to block it out, fighting down the bile that threatens to choke you up at the nauseating lurch. 

It’s over in an instant though, and you cautiously crack your eyes back open to look around. You’re more than just a little surprised to find yourself standing on the raised dais in the chapel, everything so still and dark without any of the candelabra lit that for a prolonged moment you think the two of you are alone. As if in some endless, sprawling cave with the high vaulted ceiling overhead and the rows upon rows of polished wood pews stretching endlessly off into the dark void before you, it had never been quite so apparent how vastly empty this space actually was. 

But then you hear a soft shuffle just behind you and you turn, half expecting to find a scrawny rat scuttling around in search of food or somewhere to burrow into for shelter. But what actually greets you is so alarming that it startles a surprised cry out of your mouth, and you quickly bring your free hand up to slap it over the lower half of your face to quiet the reaction even when you knew it was much too late for that. You were already as good as caught. 

“Do not fret, Sister.” Foul Legacy coos another soft laugh, giving your trapped fingers a brief squeeze. “We are invisible to the human eye like this so we can freely spectate to our hearts content. They can’t hear us either. Go ahead and see for yourself.” 

At its encouraging nudge, you cautiously step forward to get a better look at the sight playing out in front of you. It’s almost inconceivable and you have to struggle to wrap your head around what your eyes are telling you — but no matter how much you hesitate to believe it, the truth of the matter is staring you right in the face. 

It’s Father Sluhovsky greeting a female parishioner with heated, impatient kisses and the kind of intimate petting that makes you flush red hot in secondhand shame. Even more alarming, the woman in question was young enough to be his daughter! Maybe even his granddaughter. Try as you might, you just couldn’t make any sense of what you were seeing and you immediately reel back from the pair in abject disgust. 

“What in the world …” 

The demon steps up beside you, not quite touching but still close enough that you can feel the heat coming off it again. “You’re surprised?” 

“I’m shocked! This is … it’s reprehensible, isn’t it? Father Sluhovsky swore an oath, the same as any priest or nun. The same one I did! And that girl — I know her!” Feeling frantic and jittery, you spin around to look up at the monster looming over you. You couldn’t rationalize this, couldn’t conceive of any logical reason behind what you’ve been made to witness, and that leaves you with no choice but to look towards the bane of your very existence for answers. “Her name is Marnie. She’s around the same age as me. Why would she do something like this with the archbishop when he’s so … old?” 

Foul Legacy cocks its head to one side as if in thought. “Hmm. I’m afraid I don’t have the answer to that specific question, but I might be able to answer another one if you’d like to try again.” 

Eyes narrowing, you shoot daggers at that horrible beast. “I have no interest in your games, fiend. Tell me what’s going on here! Now!”  

“It’s obvious enough, isn’t it? These two seem to be in some sort of relationship by the looks of it. I can’t say I understand it any more than you do, but who am I to judge? After all, I’m just a fiend, isn’t that right?” 

You sputter indignantly, floundering for the right words when you wanted to say so very much in that moment. Finally you settle on, “I don’t believe you. This is a trick, a - a hallucination of some kind. You’ve got me under your thrall and - -“

“Ah, ah. Don’t be so hasty to jump to conclusions. It’s not very becoming of such a righteous Sister, is it?” Foul Legacy purrs, meaningfully gesturing towards the pair with a nudge of its chin. “Tell me, what do you see when you look at them? Are you appalled because of the inherent imbalance of power between these two humans or … does it unsettle you so much because he presents himself as someone good and holy? Someone who should be above such base acts?” 

Hesitating, you turn that over in your head with no shortage of skepticism. The two were part and parcel, weren’t they? One couldn’t exist without the other. The archbishop only wielded the kind of power he did in the community because he was a devout follower of the belief and had been deemed someone of authority on matters of morality. He wouldn’t be wearing his exalted robes right now if he wasn’t a good person … would he? 

You can feel the blood draining from your face now as you turn to glance at the pair again. Father Sluhovsky had Marnie backed up and pinned against the side of the great, hulking frame of the organ that occupied the back of the dais in almost its full entirety. One hand was busy between her legs, reminiscent of the way Ajax had pleasured you earlier in the bell tower corridor, while the other eagerly toyed with an exposed breast that was spilling from her open blouse. It was a lurid scene, not to mention a highly inappropriate one for the chapel, and yet neither of them seemed to show any amount of disinclination towards their surroundings. 

Almost as if they’d done this before, and it was not their first time rendezvousing in the church late at night when no one was likely to stumble upon them. They were comfortable, not only with each other but also their shared secret. The familiarity in their body language and the ardent way he kisses her chills you straight down to the bone. 

“Why are you showing this to me?” You ask on a hushed whisper, so faint even your ears strain to hear it. 

Foul Legacy doesn’t seem to have any problem hearing you though, and it sidles up right next to you with a nearly imperceptible brush of its heavy frame against yours. “I merely wish to highlight some things you seem to be unaware of, that’s all. Tell me, girl. Why do you think I wanted to show you what your beloved priest is up to when nobody is looking?” 

You can’t speak it. The reality of it was too dark, too disappointing for you to utter it aloud. Doing so would only cement the horrible thoughts into existence and make them real whereas if you kept your silence they would forever remain intangible ‘what ifs’. 

Seeing you start to chew on your inner cheek, the demon issues another low rumble as it holds out its hand again. “Then come. There’s still more to see that should help you make up your mind.” 

Your head slowly lifts at that. You were relatively certain you didn’t want to see anything else if it was half as devastating as this but a certain curiosity in the back of your mind urges you on. Was there truly something more damning than seeing Father Sluhovsky so unapologetically shirking his vows in favor of indulging in the young flesh of one of his congregants? It seemed unlikely, inconceivable even, and yet the beast looked so sure of itself. In as much as its stoic, uncanny mask with its singular unblinking eye could look like anything. 

Feeling numb, you carefully reach out to slip your hand into its waiting palm again. The scenery immediately starts to shift and rush past you in a blur as soon as it closes its fingers around yours, but you force yourself to keep your eyes open this time. If there was some sort of trick or illusion it was pulling over your sleeping consciousness you wanted to catch it in the act if you could. 

All you earn for your efforts is a nauseating rush of motion sickness though, and you sway unsteadily on your feet when the world around you reforms itself into one of the many identical dorm rooms that occupy the monastery. It’s an almost perfect mirror to your own, you quickly realize, and you warily bring your attention up at the sound of a shuddering, feminine exhale. 

The sight of Sister Darya spread out naked on the bed while one of your fellow Sisters kneels between her parted legs, mouthing at her cunt, startles you so much you feel suddenly faint. Perhaps you’d just been more apt to accept that Father Sluhovsky was not as he seemed because he was a man, and the easily swayed faculties of men were no mystery to even someone such as you, but for Sister Darya of all people to neglect her vows … 

Reeling with disbelief, you stumble back a step and half collapse against Foul Legacy’s side for support. It was the only thing keeping you upright and off the floor when it felt like everything you believed in and thought you understood was crashing down around you in quick succession. You couldn’t believe it. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” You rattle, the horror in your voice almost palpable. “It is one thing for the archbishop to sneak around behind everyone’s back but - but Sister Darya is such a stickler for the rules. She enforces them more than anyone else here. Her vow of celibacy isn’t some kind of joke or unimportant matter that she would just shrug off like this … or so I thought.” 

Sedately, Foul Legacy reaches up to nudge a thick finger under your trembling chin. So confused and upset by the things you’ve witnessed, you don’t even think to fight it when the monster tips your head back to make you look into its horrible face. 

“Are you starting to see it now? Those vows you put so much stock and weight in are nothing but lip service. Oh, don’t look at me like that, little love. I’ll admit that there are a few adherents of the faith who believe in what they preach almost as wholeheartedly as you do, but you’re in the minority I’m afraid. Poor thing. What must it feel like to realize that everyone around you doesn’t keep the same adamant pledge that you do?” 

It takes a great deal of effort on your part but you manage to stir from your shell shocked stupor enough to pin the demon with a heated glare. “Is that what this is about? You’re trying to convince me into giving myself over to you willingly just because everyone else is indulging in mortal pleasures?” 

“Not quite that, but I suppose it’s not far from the truth either. Just look at your Sister. Look at her and tell me what’s going on here.” 

You blanch at that, scrunching up your face. “I think I’ve already played the role of voyeur enough for one night, don’t you?” 

With a gentle hum, Foul Legacy slips from you to step around the cramped room made all the more claustrophobic with so many people taking up space within its four walls, least of all the hulking ghoul who’s fiery burst of red hair brushes against the ceiling when it moves. You watch it walk over to stand at the foot of the occupied bed and, anxiously fisting your hands in the front of your dress, you slowly trail after it to join in its vigil. 

Luckily you find that looking down at the scene from this angle prevents you from catching a glimpse of anything too embarrassing when the other Sister was positioned between her legs, and you’re exceedingly grateful for that. Your eyes do linger briefly on her bare breasts though, heavy with weight and with age, and starting to migrate towards the pits of her arms. But she looks all the more voluptuous for it, like some erotic rendition of a matronly saint come to life. 

You’re distantly aware of a brief pang of self consciousness, wondering how your own body looked by comparison. If you still seemed immature and undeveloped in contrast to her motherly curves. But then you drag your attention up to her face. 

So accustomed to Sister Darya scowling in varying degrees of disapproval whenever you chanced to look upon her, you’re more than a little surprised now to find her expression completely relaxed and at ease. Blissful, even. It’s as if in this one moment in time she’s allowed herself to simply exist and to feel that which she routinely denies herself in her day to day. Intimacy. Closeness with another. Was there perhaps even love between the two Sisters? 

“That’s it.” Foul Legacy purrs, directly against the side of your face now. Startling with a jolt, you whip your head around to find it crouched down on your level again and staring right into your very soul from just a scant few inches away, misting hot breath across your face when it lets out a faintly shuddering exhale. “You recognize it for what it is don’t you? The human need for companionship. It’s an integral part of you even if you try to reject it at every turn. You’ve felt those pangs of longing too, haven’t you?” 

“Not until you branded me with your mark, cursed beast.” You grumble back but it just snickers another soft, taunting laugh. 

“You have no need for reticence with me. I did not implant those feelings in you, little nun. My presence can only amplify what is already there, not create something out of nothing.” Slowly, it reaches out for you and you think to pull away, to slap at its massive hand to dissuade it from touching you so casually. But you can’t quite find the wherewithal or energy to do so, simply sucking in a stifled breath when it palms over your stomach for the upteenth time with that same possessive gesture as before. “Sooner or later you wouldn’t have been able to fight it any longer and you would have sought out intimacy from somewhere. Your kind always does. No matter how pious or righteous, or pure of heart and mind you claim yourselves to be, there is no getting around these baser needs you harbor. I just sped up the process, that’s all.” 

“But why?” 

“Is it really some great mystery?” It asks, tilting its head to one side. The sound of cresting pleasure that promptly sounds from the bed only serves to further highlight the poignancy of the moment, what it’s saying to you and the way it looks at you. 

“Tell me.” You whisper under the heaving sighs and groans of Sister Darya finding release on the other Sister’s mouth. “Tell me in your own words, demon.” 

“I want you. Just as he wants you. And both of us shall have you, rest assured.” 

Foul Legacy squeezes you then, not unlike the way Ajax has earlier that afternoon, except this time sharp talons dig into the vulnerable flesh of your belly through layers of clothes. You seethe between your teeth and tears spring up in your eyes as you jerk your hands down to grab at the foul thing and force it off you but it’s already too late. Whatever it had triggered was already in motion and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

All at once the world dissolves around you, fading into mere memory, and you’re suddenly falling through a pitch black eternity of nothingness. Everything is gone, even the demon. You try to scream but nothing comes out. It’s impossible to even draw breath here, like some kind of void completely bereft of oxygen. Your chest wrenches in panic and your heart slams wildly against the interior of your ribcage, but there’s nothing you can grab onto to stop your downward descent. You just keep falling, falling, falling — 

Straight into your flesh and blood body. 

Your lungs abruptly expand with the wild, frantic breath you suck in and you bolt upright in your bed so violently you almost lurch right over the edge of it. Wheezing uncontrollably and drenched in sweat, you force yourself to go still so you can try to take stock of your surroundings. 

You were back in your dorm, you’re more than a bit relieved to find. Blissfully alone and, judging by the softening iridescence of the sky you can glimpse through your window, still a few hours from daybreak. But that didn’t make any sense though. Foul Legacy never let you return to the real world without first taking its monstrous tongue to you until you came shuddering and fitfully jerking in pleasure. Why would it send you back so suddenly? And with only three days left until the new moon you would have thought … 

Feeling like you were going to be sick all over the rumpled sheets, you cautiously reach down to curl a protective hand over your lower stomach. The responding dull pulse of the mark makes you wince but nothing beyond that happens. You’re ashamed at the sense of disappointment that quickly rushes in to overshadow the mindless panic you’d felt when you first woke up, threatening to suffocate and choke you in its potency. 

Surely you weren’t so weak, so irreparably addicted to the pleasure that monster gave you, that you could no longer return to your normal life without lamenting its absence, were you? 

Oh, how far the righteous fall. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next two nights pass by uneventful and the horned demon does not make another appearance in that time, leaving you to a fitful sleep free of its persistent harassment. You almost feel more tired for it, less rested than if it had taken you on another nocturnal goose chase through the dreamscape. Even so you knew you should have been glad for the reprieve. It’s what you’d been praying and hoping for throughout this entire ordeal, wasn’t it? 

But somehow it feels like anything but a victory, especially when it just leaves you with your own thoughts for company and little else. You had a lot to think about, after all, and none of it was good. 

And at last the final day arrives without ceremony or consequence, but you can’t quite decide if you should peacefully say your goodbyes to the world as you know it or if it was better to simply carry on as if nothing were out of the ordinary. It didn’t exactly feel any different from what you were accustomed to, save the vague sense of anxiety thrumming in the back of your mind like a livewire. There were no ominous thunderbolts flashing in the charcoal gray clouds overhead, no fire and brimstone raining down upon the earth. It wasn’t even snowing, the sky as clear as it ever seemed to get in Snezhnaya. 

You’d think it rather anticlimactic had it not been for the resounding absence of the fiend’s host on top of everything else. Something about him disappearing filled you with unease and uncertainty for what the night held in store for you more than anything else did, and it didn’t exactly bode well.  

But Ajax had not paid you a visit in over forty-eight hours now which was a new record for him and decidedly strange, so it was no wonder it would make you nervous. Since you’d first met some weeks ago, it felt like he popped in just to say hello at every opportunity he was afforded — either in the natural lulls of his daily workload or intentionally manufactured by his desire to see you — and his frequent daily appearances had become something of a routine at a certain point as a result. You’d thought you would have been glad to be rid of him too but in truth you feel anything but relief. 

Instead a vague sense of guilt had slowly descended upon you, piling all the blame for his sudden disappearance on your actions when last you’d seen him, until you were left with no choice but to grudgingly admit to yourself that you missed the headstrong soldier on some level. Maybe you did like him. Maybe it was more than the mark compelling you so urgently closer to taking that final plunge with him. It was hard to say for sure when the situation was so messed up thanks to Foul Legacy and its schemes but it was starting to look like you’d soon find your answer one way or another. If the two of them really were as symbiotic as you’d started to suspect then the upcoming marriage rite would tie you to both, not just one of them. 

And you really didn’t want to examine your thoughts on that any further than you absolutely needed to. 

Eager for a distraction from what understandably seemed to be your impending doom, you bundle up in your heavy cloak and make the trip into town early in the afternoon. You alternatively considered running somewhere far away, and not for the first time, but quickly think better of it. Fleeing would clearly be an effort in futility given Foul Legacy’s unfettered access to your consciousness and you didn’t want to incur its wrath should you displease it by acting out. 

So you try to keep yourself preoccupied with strolling down the cobbled streets and greeting the people who stop to talk to you, visiting the shops you usually neglected under the belief that they were material temptations that would only lead you astray and even an indulgent stop at the popular cafe in the village. It had been a very long time since you last treated yourself to coffee and pyshka, and you savor every minute of it, unsure if it would be the last chance you ever get. 

Although Foul Legacy hadn’t said anything about the marriage rite ending with the loss of your life, a martyred sacrifice to its dark power, it also hadn’t explicitly said anything about what would happen afterward. You didn’t want to take any chances, just in case. Maybe you’d even pay a visit to your uncle's house and enjoy one last meal of home cooked bigos stew while you were at it. Surely his dutiful wife wouldn’t deny you this final request if you laid on the puppy eyed begging enough … 

A handful of hours pass you by in this manner going from shop to shop until you’re eventually roused from your thoughts of stews and baked herring by an excited shout and a rush of movement just at your peripheral. No shortage of surprised confusion rushes over you when you glance down to find a child, a young boy, eagerly running up as if to greet you. The big, broad smile on his face gives you pause and you hesitate mid step, giving him ample opportunity to latch onto your fluttering skirts. 

“Excuse me, excuse me!” He yelps, practically dancing on his toes in excitement. “Are you - you are, aren’t you? You're the Sister my big brother told me all about!” 

It feels like someone has just ripped the rug right out from under you and your stomach plummets straight into the ground with immediate, inescapable understanding. If the striking blue of his eyes hadn’t given it away, the boy's burnished red-brown hair certainly would have. Ajax had told you extensively about his siblings but you hadn’t expected him to return the favor and tell them anything about you. It seemed a little naive of him, almost, when you’d made it so abundantly clear that you had no interest in being courted and had subsequently tried to reject him at every turn. Suddenly your guilt felt ten times more crushing than before. 

“A - ah, yes. That’s me.” You school your features into a pleasant smile and bend at the waist to get closer to his level. “And let me guess. Such a handsome young man … you must be Tuecer then, if I had to guess?”

“Yep! Wow, my brother told you about me too?” 

“He told me about all of his brothers and sisters, little Tuecer. He’s very proud of you, you know. In fact I think he takes more pride in calling you his family than in any achievements he’s earned in the military. You’re very lucky to have him as your older sibling.” 

Looking incredibly happy to hear that, Tuecer rocks back on his heels to fidget. “Ajax said you were nice but you’re even kinder than I thought you’d be! And pretty too! Anton didn’t believe him but everything he told us was actually true!”  

You hesitate to ask, but ultimately can’t stop yourself. “Did he really say all that about me?” 

“Mhm!” Tuecer bobs his head in an enthusiastic nod, and you feel the knot in your stomach cinch that little bit tighter. Curse that scoundrel. 

“I see. I’m flattered he thinks so highly of me. By the way, have you seen him recently?” 

“Mmm, he just had dinner at home with us the night before last. Why? Are you looking for him, Sister?” 

“I think I probably should be.” You murmur, earning a curious look from the boy. “Ah, it’s nothing to concern yourself with, Tuecer. I’m sure I’ll find him eventually. I could always check at the outpost, right? But before that, would you like to join me for a quick bite to eat?” 

His eyes light up at the prospect, shimmering blue pools that are reminiscent of his brothers and yet simultaneously not. The color was the same but where Ajax’s were a depthless void that never seemed to reflect any light at all, Tuecer’s seemed to be lit from within. You wonder at that even as the two of you make your way down the street together towards the popular meat pie shop. Had their eyes matched at one time, as one would expect of siblings, and was it Foul Legacy who had caused the physical change in Ajax? You’d probably never know for certain, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were likely somehow intertwined. 

More curious, however, is that Tuecer doesn’t seem to realize that anything is at all strange or out of the ordinary about his brother. The boy has nothing but praise and good things to say about Ajax while the two of you enjoy a late snack at the little restaurant, and he divulges a great many things about his sibling in exchange for the paszteciki. That hadn’t exactly been your intention in inviting him to lunch but you still find yourself hanging off his every word with a great deal of interest. 

While some of it was clearly the exaggerated hero worship of a younger brother putting his elder on a pedestal and it quickly became apparent to you that Ajax could do no wrong in his eyes, you still learn much about him and the rest of his family. He especially adored Tonia, frequently gifting the little girl with nice dresses and shoes despite his soldiers salary, according to Tuecer. You almost resent how thoroughly that information manages to shift your opinion of the troublesome lout but there’s no denying the effect it has on you. 

At one point you’d been half convinced that his apparent kindness was an act and he was not nearly as sympathetic as he often made himself out to be. This changed things though. To be so kind and thoughtful to the needs of a little sister when he had other brothers he could just as easily dote on instead … that said something about his character, didn’t it? And in retrospect, now that you were thinking about it, he’d only ever pushed you in the playful, mischievous way boys liked to do but had never turned mean or malicious no matter how many times you rejected his advances. In truth it was only Foul Legacy who’d completely ignored your wishes in all this. Ajax, to his credit, had been surprisingly chivalrous towards you this whole time. 

How had you not seen that before now? Was it really possible that you’d unfairly conflated the two and let your experiences with the demon cloud your perception of the man? Had you ascribed Ajax with a selfish streak of entitlement that he quite simply did not have in all actuality? It was a conundrum, and a troubling one at that, but you were in no position to reconcile any of it at the current moment. Not without talking to him directly first. 

So you decide to visit the soldiers outpost at the edge of town after you part ways with Tuecer, bidding him a fond farewell and a promise of another shared treat sometime in the near future. You don’t mention the fast approaching deadline on your soul's freedom, nor do you let your thoughts linger on it for very long. It was better to keep yourself preoccupied with other matters so the suffocating dread didn’t take hold of you and never let you go, and the matter of Ajax seemed sufficiently pressing. 

But when you arrive at the cordoned off street and ask the stationed on duty guard about the singular object of your consternation, you’re promptly informed that civilians were not permitted beyond that point. And no, unfortunately, even church staff were not exempt from that rule. 

“And what if someone were in need of our services, hm? What would you do then?” You ask archly of the bewildered guard who was likely unaccustomed to seeing a nun seeking entry into the outpost without first being requested to do so. Although it was a little odd, yes, you sorely wished you could tell him that there were far stranger things afoot that deserved his scrutiny. 

“Erm, I am sorry, Sister …?” 

You huff out your name, stamping down the urge to roll your eyes at the needless rigmarole. 

“Yes, well. As much as it pains me to say it I’m afraid I just can’t let you past this point. There’s regulations to follow. You understand.” 

“I do, of course. But can’t you at least send word to the person I want to speak to so that he might meet me here at the gate?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t leave my post, Sister. It’s nothing personal, that much I can promise you, so please don’t take any offense. Even if I wanted to help you out, I’d have no way of getting a message to Lieutenant Ajax right now.” 

Shoulders slumping in defeat, you nod your head once in solemn resignation. There was nothing for it then. And you certainly didn’t want to get the young man into any trouble. It was probably best to give up now and try again later — if ‘later’ even existed for you. “You have my thanks then, sir. I won’t take up anymore of your time in that case.”

“I appreciate your understanding, Sister. Thank you for your cooperation.” 

You’re already halfway through the motion of turning away from him when a voice in the near distance abruptly squawks your name. 

Startling, you glance back to find another young man poking his head out of a nearby building. A supplies shed, by the looks of it, and your suspicions are quickly confirmed when he steps out with an arm full of heavy woolen blankets clutched to his front. 

Hurrying over to stand beside the first soldier, the newcomer gives you a quick but no less critical once over. “Yeah, you seem to fit the description alright. I think I’ve got something for you, Sister.”

“Me?” You lift your brows in surprise as you turn back around to face them head on. “I’m sorry, have we met somewhere before or …?”

“No, no. We haven’t met. If I’d known you were so lovely and fair, I never would have agreed to help the Lieutenant out so that I might try my luck instead.” The first soldier shoots the second a startled look in response, mirroring your own shock. But the newcomer just laughs it off as he shoves his armload into the other man’s chest so he can foist it off on him before digging into the deep pockets of his heavy coat. “Just a moment, I should have it on hand somewhere … ah, here we are. The Lieutenant said this was for you if you happened to stop by looking for him.” 

Warily regarding the simple white envelope he holds out in offering, you hesitate to take it. You couldn’t be sure if you could trust it or not, either the contents of the letter or this unknown soldier’s sincerity, but considering that this looked to be your only lead on the scoundrels whereabouts … 

“Thank you.” Taking the slightly wrinkled envelope from him, you flip it around to inspect the back but there was nothing written on it. Just a blot of dried creamy wax sealing it shut and nothing more. 

So you quickly take your leave of the two, wishing them both a good day and thanking them for their hard work before ducking down the first street you come to. Pausing just inside the vacant lip of an alley, you carefully rip the seal open and take out the piece of parchment you find inside. Upon unfolding it, you’re greeted by a surprisingly legible masculine scrawl that is not nearly as messy as you would have expected from someone like him. 

Brow furrowing, you settle in to read: 

Should this letter somehow find its way to you then I can only assume you’ve decided to take me up on my offer to help. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me happy. My feelings for you are sincere. This I can swear to you. 

Unfortunately I’ve just been informed that my presence is required out on patrol and I will be indisposed for the next two days at the time of writing this message. I hope it sees you well, and you’re not missing me too terribly. But I’ll be back soon so worry not. Let’s meet up under the new moon by the graveyard just outside the bell tower, where we were the last time. It's one of the few landmarks I recognize inside the church’s compound so it should be a good place to rendezvous. Even if I have to drag myself half dead through a raging blizzard to do it, I will be there waiting for you. I’ll wait an eternity if I have to. 

Lieutenant Ajax, Eleventh Company 

Reaching the bottom of the short missive, you slump back against the rough brick wall behind you and let out a heavy sigh of relief. He wasn’t purposely avoiding you then. 

You aren’t sure why that should fill you with such a stark sense of comfort but it does and, perhaps more importantly, it manages to successfully assuage the overpowering guilt that had fallen over your head in his absence. It felt a little silly in hindsight but watching Tuecer’s eyes sparkle and dance while he regaled you with stories of his older brother had been akin to the final nail in the coffin. Ajax at least deserved a fair chance free of Foul Legacy’s influence, of this you were now certain. He was in all likelihood a victim just as much as you were and there was solidarity to be found in the mutual sharing of such an experience, wasn’t there? 

But … rousing yourself, you peer down at the letter again. Rendezvousing under the new moon, what an implausible coincidence this was turning out to be. Was it truly happenstance, a mere stroke of serendipity, or had that demon somehow orchestrated this as well? Was it really powerful enough to influence the waking world as much as it does the sleeping? 

There was only one way to find out for sure. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You were not particularly well versed in the art of sneaking out of your dorm room in the middle of the night, unlike some others who shall go unnamed, and you’re understandably nervous about such a clandestine undertaking. Simply getting caught was a very real concern at the forefront of your mind but you also feared being barred from seeing Ajax should you be sent back and locked inside for the night. You’d heard that they implemented such measures on especially rebellious Sister’s who had been shipped off to the convent by families who no longer knew what to do with them. 

But by some rare stroke of luck, you manage to pull it off without a hitch. Your presence out in the hall goes just as unnoticed as your boots creeping down the staircase, floor after floor until you at last reach ground level. The foyer is just as deserted and you’re able to freely slip out into the biting cold of night with nary so much as a questioning look thrown your way. 

Standing on the front step, you take a moment to pull the hood of your cloak more securely around your head to protect you from the wind and snow flurries drifting through the air. Then you glance out over the still, quiet courtyard, taking note of the best route to slip through the largely open space undetected. 

There wasn’t much light coming down from the moon in its waned state but the faint reflection off of the snowdrifts created just enough of a glow to illuminate the path directly in front of you. The rest was shrouded in a hazy veil of darkness that seemed all at once to hold nothing at all, just a limitless void staring back at you, and every possible demon and ghoul that might ever exist at the same time. 

A frightened shudder works down your spine but you keep your chin held high as you step down to the pavers and begin to make your way across the frozen grass, taking care to avoid the brightest lit spots. You were determined to meet your fate with dignity and the sort of decorum expected of someone of the faith. Even knowing there were those living among you who did not adhere to the scriptures as strictly as you wasn't enough to completely break your resolve in their teachings. Whether it was your mortal death at the hands of clawed, monstrous intentions or the surrender of your cherished sanctity at the hands of a young soldier, you would face it unflinchingly. 

Gratefully the trek across the compound is an uneventful one, save the impromptu flight of a great owl that swoops over your head on a near silent trajectory and sends your heart racing into overdrive. Its departing hoot urges you on, and you hurry the rest of the way to the outbuilding. 

Following it around, you crunch through the snow and brittle ice until you at last come upon the small cemetery facing out over the sloping hillside, an endless stretch of pure white that disappears off into the distance. And immediately you catch the flicker of a lantern, a shift of the shadows to indicate that someone was moving about amongst the stout headstones and looming mausoleums. The realization that Ajax was really there waiting for you, just like he said he would be, makes your heartbeat quicken for an entirely different reason than the owl had. 

You clutch your cloak tightly about you as you step closer, keeping your head low until you’re standing between the first rows of stone monuments where you finally call out, “Ajax? Are you here?” 

The scoundrel appears immediately, popping out from behind a cracked granite sepulcher with a grin on his face. “Who else would be skulking about in a cemetery in the middle of the night? You weren’t expecting someone else were you, Sister?” 

“Of course not. Don’t be a fool.” Huffing, you step closer to him and accept the hand he holds out to you in offering. That you don’t even seem to give it a second thought surprises both of you, as evidenced by the lift of his brows, but he has the sense not to question it as he leads you back behind the mausoleum where he’d been hiding. 

His lantern sits atop a long frozen memorial bench, slowly melting the snow around it, and it gives a faint flicker as if in welcome when the two of you step fully into its protective circle. Your nerves almost get the better of you, standing there like that when the chance of being caught seemed so great, but you force your head up to look at him. There would be no backing out of this now. 

“I’m glad you came.” He says at length, giving you an unexpectedly tender smile while he searches your face for … what, you do not know. You think he’s checking to make sure it’s really you and not some other, less scrupulous nun looking to have a bit of fun. The notion nearly makes you laugh. 

“I must admit, I’m … I’m glad I came too. It was odd, not seeing you for so many days.”

His grin widens. “You missed me?” 

“Only in as much as I was simply used to seeing you pop in unannounced like clockwork. You set an expectation, I’m afraid.” 

Humming softly, Ajax takes a moment to simply look at you and you almost glance away from the burning spotlight of his pinpoint attention. But then he reaches up to carefully hook his thumbs under your hood, and you stare up at him in transfixed silence while he nudges it back to slip off your head. 

The fogging condensation from your breath mixes with his when he bends close to just nuzzle the tip of his cold nose against yours as if in affectionate greeting. “Then get a good look, sweetheart. I’m right here in front of you. What would you have of me now?” 

Your lungs slowly expand with the deep inhale you draw to steady yourself. You knew what you wanted from him, even if it only meant quickening your inevitable demise. Even if it meant condemning your soul to an eternity of punishment and retribution for the sins committed in this world. It was exactly as Foul Legacy claimed, exactly what it had shown you. There was a base part of the human psyche that craved intimacy no matter how much one tried to reject it and you were no better than all the rest. Just as weak and easily persuaded by the flesh as Father Sluhovsky and Sister Darya evidently were. 

And if you were truly fated to know the demon as husband and wife know each other then you wanted to at least lie with a man once before it was too late. Before the only thing you were permitted to partake in was more monster than human. This just might be the last chance you’d ever have at something close to normal. 

So you carefully tip your mouth up, rocking forward on the toes of your boots just enough to get the message across. Ajax doesn’t miss his cue, luckily, and he brings his hands up to delicately cradle your cheeks between the chilly palms of his gloves. Folding himself in half, he slots his lips into place over yours and he kisses you deeply, issuing a faint moan when that same static shock as the last time tears through both of you. 

The sharp intensity of the mark throbbing to life almost makes you too weak in the knees to stand and it must be the same for Ajax because he sways with you there in the lamplight. Shuddering from top to bottom, you eagerly bring your hands up to twist your fingers into his thick jacket but he must mistake the involuntary gesture for something it’s not, because he pulls away to look at you with a searching glance. 

“You’re cold.” He says so matter of factly it surprises a brief laugh out of you. 

“Only a little, but it’s not anything I can’t - -“ 

Softly clucking his tongue, Ajax disengages from you completely so he can reach up and unwind the red scarf from around his own neck. Numb with surprise, you just stand there and watch as he transfers the knitted fabric over to your shoulders so he can wrap it into place over your throat. The immediate rush of his scent straight into your brain, so distinct and yet clean at the same time, almost makes you dizzier than the kiss had. 

“There. That should help at least a bit.” 

You aren’t entirely sure what to say so you settle on, “Thank you, Ajax. You’re very sweet … when you want to be.” 

He snickers a quiet laugh. “Don’t tell me my charm has finally started to work.” 

“It might have.” 

“Good.” Looking really quite pleased to hear that, he slips his hands down to slide under your cloak and you startle at the cold brush of his gloves invading your warm cocoon. He doesn’t give you a chance to complain about it though, quickly finding your waist so he can back you up a step, and then another. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m just going to help you stay warm enough. Relax.” 

That was easy for him to say but much more difficult for you, especially when your backside bumps into the flat, chilly surface of a headstone, dislodging a whimper from low in your throat. Blindly reaching behind you, you brace your hand on top of the stone monument and prepare to push away from it. You weren’t feeling particularly keen about disrespecting someone’s gravesite but you don’t quite get to follow through on it. 

Without a word of warning or explanation Ajax abruptly drops to his knees in front of you, unconcerned about the snow that crunches under his weight and no doubt soaks up into his pants. Your breath catches, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. He doesn’t so much as hesitate to do it though, and he quickly dives under your skirts with an eager flick of the heavy material to make you outright choke on anything you might have liked to say to him. All the more so when you feel the first brush of his mouth against your stockinged leg. 

White knuckled gripping the headstone with both hands now, you furtively jerk your attention around at the rest of the otherwise empty cemetery. “Have you lost your mind?” You hiss, struggling to keep your thighs closed when he leans up to try and nuzzle them apart. “This is — we’re in a graveyard, you sacreligious idiot! We can’t do this here …!” 

“Why not?” His voice drifts up through the layers of your frock, muffled and fainter than before but still damnably clear with pointed intention. “No ones going to stop us, not even the Holy Mother herself. I told you I was going to help you stay warm, didn’t I?” 

Rising up a little higher, he presses his face into the cradling cushion between your legs and breathes deep the smell of you through your bloomers. The sound of him releasing a savory exhale just a short moment later rushes straight to your cunt and makes you gasp at the intense surge of slicking heat that promptly follows. Your limbs suddenly feel like overcooked pasta as you sag there against the tombstone, struggling to keep your head on straight while Ajax slides his hands up over your stockings. Leather and nylon clash in a sensuous drag that makes your muscles twitch at the strange sensation, and it seems to rob you of all your strength to fight. 

By the time he finally reaches the top of your bloomers it’s already much too late and you can hardly even think straight anymore, the demon mark insidiously pulsing in time with your heartbeat when he starts to tug them down. This was what you wanted, yes, and you try desperately to remind yourself of that, but it was impossible to rationalize doing it here rather than anywhere else in your foggy mind. Even sneaking into the church to do it in front of the silent statue of the merciful Holy Mother would have been less disrespectful than this. 

There’s no stopping it though, and all you can do is seethe through your teeth when he manages to get your bloomers pulled off and discarded before going back for your stockings. His hands are tense with eager anticipation as he rolls them down over your hips, barely stopping long enough to get them pulled out of the way before shoving his mouth into your cunt. 

You toss your head back at the sensation of warm lips on you rather than the snake-like, crafty tongue you’d become so accustomed to. But Ajax is just as messy with it as his counterpart is, you quickly come to find, and he hungrily kisses at you with wet, smacking pecks that make your toes curl in their boots. 

Pursing your lips to stop the excited sounds that threaten to come tumbling out, you tuck your chin back down to look at him kneeling before you. It’s no use with him underneath your dress though, and all you can make out is the lumpy outline of his head and his broad shoulders, a bit of his long legs poking out from behind him. All you have to focus on is the feel him mouthing at you, taking sticky swipes at your slit to encourage the meaty folds to part for him. And they readily do, you’re almost ashamed to realize, your need so great after only just two days of neglect that your pussy quickly softens for him with the rush of blood in your veins. 

And as your body starts to open up to him, his tongue dips further in on the next flicking swipe to just get his first real taste of you. Ajax groans, hot and primal into your cunt, while you violently shudder at the brief contact to your clit. You’re immediately struck by how different it feels compared to Foul Legacy’s, how much fleshier and softer it is. Your need for him immediately ratchets up another notch and you futilely try to spread your legs further apart in invitation, impropriety and sacrilege be damned. 

But you’re stopped by the stockings still rolled down around your thighs, the stretchy nylon only allowing you so much range of motion before they begin to groan in protest. 

“Ajax -!” You mewl, writhing impotently between him and the headstone. “I — I want your mouth …!”

A low, rumbling sound rises from underneath your skirts and he restlessly shifts in place, fumbling to get the material yanked further down. “You’ll have it, sweetheart. Anything you want, anything at all. I’m going to take off one of your boots, okay?” He pauses just long enough to deliver a heated kiss to the curve of your freshly exposed knee before returning to the task at hand. “Don’t worry though. I’m not going to let you stand here in the snow and get frostbite. Just trust me.” 

Whining softly when the mark gives a demanding, attention grabbing throb, you lean further back into the grave marker to help support your weight as he works his way down to your shoes. Lifting one of your feet to cradle it in his lap, Ajax makes quick work of unlacing and tugging the boot off before letting it fall to the ground without another thought. That side of the stockings quickly follows, left to curl like a fallen drape across the snow packed earth. Then, much to your gasping surprise, he guides your leg higher still to hook it over his shoulder and lock you into place with your foot hiked up in the air. 

You almost protest, almost reconsider the wisdom in giving in to these baser urges if it meant exposing yourself like a shameless harlot to the entire world, but then he leans back into the space between your thighs and it’s like you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. His mouth feels like heaven on your cunt when he presses himself flush to you and freely delves his tongue into the pudgy seam of your body. It's like he’s trying to figure out how best to devour you as he noisily sucks and licks at you from one angle and then another until he abruptly nudges into your clit with the full brunt of his tongue. 

Yelping a haggard sound of alarm, you grip the polished stone behind you so hard it makes the joints hurt. But it was the only thing keeping you upright now when it felt like you’d been robbed of all ability to do anything except feel. 

Mindlessly, you buck against his mouth and twitch through the sudden onslaught of pleasure that assaults you all at once when he zeroes in on the delicate pleasure button now that he’s found it again. He’s merciless in the way he flicks at it, incessantly nudging it back and forth even when you hiss in response. The sensation is sharp and overwhelming, and you think it’s too much for your punchdrunk senses to handle but your cunt just keeps eagerly slicking all over his face. Even when you feel close to fainting, your body can’t seem to get enough. 

And Ajax sounds like he’s enjoying this almost as much as you are, heavily groaning into you between ministrations. Like he’s thought of this and little else in the past few weeks. It was absurd to think both the unwitting host and the demonic entity inhabiting him would be this obsessed with licking your pussy even to the extent that he’d do it here of all places … 

That’s when it hits you. The sudden realization that the dreams were not only your dreams but Ajax’s too. He had been thinking about this the entire time because it was all Foul Legacy ever did to you when you were asleep. His subconscious was likely just as haunted by visions of you shamelessly spread out on your bed or helplessly held up in the air by huge, monstrous claws while it used its impossibly long tongue to fuck your cunt open as you were with thoughts of him. 

Of them? 

Were they closer to one and the same than you’d first thought? 

The notion makes you wheeze, your chest feeling like it’s about to cave in under the pressure. It was too late though. You were already close, your orgasm bearing down on you with enough intensity to make your eyes cross as you shudder uncontrollably towards the finish line. It felt too good, the pleasure far too intense for you to stop it even if you’d wanted to. His soft human tongue, his lips, the heavy puffs of hot air he releases against your soaked cunt. Even the dull tickle of his messy hair brushing over your pelvis. It all came together and merged into one single, blinding sensation of unadulterated pleasure and you relish in it when you start to tip over. 

All at once your pussy clamps down hard enough to bring tears to your eyes and you immediately devolve into a fit of spasms, rocking helplessly with the roiling tremors. You can hear yourself crying out for him, the sound of your own voice distant and muffled as if it was coming from the far end of some impossibly long tunnel, and just for a split second you see a starburst so bright it blinds you. You’d never cum this hard before, not even when Foul Legacy had tongue fucked you at such a sedate, leisurely pace it had seemed to last for a lifetime. 

This was different. This was flesh and blood, and two human bodies feeding seamlessly off the arousal of the other. It wasn’t a dream nor was it a demon bringing you this pleasure, and you bask in the knowledge of Ajax’s mortality even as you slowly start to come down from the soaring high some moments later. 

Still gasping for breath, you slowly manage to rouse yourself enough to stir against the headstone. “Ajax … please … take me somewhere with a bed … before it’s too late!” Time was ticking. 

But he doesn’t immediately move to oblige or even acknowledge your request, and it takes a beat for you to realize that something was not quite right now. 

Forcing your lungs to slow their rapid contractions, you carefully straighten up as much as you’re able to on one leg and reach down to tug your skirt out of the way. A startled gasp rattles through your chest when the thick fabric falls away to reveal his face slackened as if in some kind of trance. You’d been so lost in your own pleasure, so consumed by the all consuming fire burning within your loins, that you weren’t entirely sure when he’d gone so still. It frightens you though, far more than you’d ever likely admit, and you carefully try to disengage from him so you can retreat and possibly regroup. 

But you only make it so far as sliding your leg down off his shoulder before he suddenly comes alive again, and you choke on your scream of terror when he surges up to his feet in a rush. It's clear that the Ajax you know is no longer present as he grabs you around the waist and hauls you against him before turning to carry you towards the mausoleum. You realize what’s happening, what he’s aiming for, and it takes everything you have not to shriek at the top of your lungs as you blindly yank on his jacket. 

“Ajax, wait! What are you doing?” 

He doesn’t respond, of course, and you valiantly twist in his arms but it’s no use. It’s not like you would have made it far anyway, even if you could escape his clutches, when you only had one boot on. The thought of him taking you inside that long sealed sepulcher amongst all the rotten and crawling things is enough to make you try though, and you do so with fast growing desperation. 

It’s like he doesn’t even notice you struggling though, his strength so much greater than that of a normal man’s that you implicitly understand it’s Foul Legacy’s doing even as you shriek at him to stop. And at the last possible moment he does heed your frantic cries, silently angling away from the heavy stone doors to instead lay you down on top of the wide, decorative platform steps that lead up to the macabre monument. 

You let him do it, too scared to fight when you couldn’t understand what was happening or why Ajax had suddenly slipped into a comatose state, and you hardly even notice the snow melting up into you from below as you warily watch him take half a step back. His hands come up to mechanically unfasten his coat and he shrugs out of it so he can then lay it out on the frozen top step just behind you. When he reaches for you again you try to scuttle away but he’s quick to grab hold, hefting you up to sit on his jacket. It might have been a charming gesture under better circumstances. 

But the current situation is anything but that when he crawls up to hover over you, his eyes so completely void of any life in them that they almost resemble bottomless black pits. You’d thought they were uncanny and unnaturally dull before, and yet they now send terrified shudders racing up and down your spine. 

Futilely, you make an attempt to edge away from him but he just follows you until he’s got you pinned against the sealed opening of the tomb. There he reaches out to relieve you of your second shoe, and then your stockings. He goes for the scarf and your cloak next, and you try to cling to it to no avail. You realize you’re crying when he starts in on your frock, insistently tugging to get it pulled up over your head but then a strange thought occurs to you, piercing through the fog. 

You weren’t cold. 

By all accounts you certainly should have been. Freezing, in fact. But even when he relieves you of your dress to leave you sitting there among the snow and the long frozen monuments in nothing but your brassiere and your veil, you don’t even tremble at the undeniable chill you know must exist. 

Blinking through the tears now, you glance down at yourself to check if you were really naked or if you’d only imagine it but the glow of the purple mark on your stomach stops you short. You’d never seen it do that before. Like it was backlit with a fire raging so intensely, so brightly that it seemed to smolder before your very eyes. It almost makes you panic, almost makes you reach down to claw yourself open and pull out whatever was inside of you, but you suddenly find you don’t quite have the energy or the presence of mind to do any of that. 

As if somebody had slipped you a powerful sedative when you weren’t looking, you find yourself actually relaxing into the cool brush of Ajax’s hands against your skin when he takes your last piece of clothing to leave sitting bare and vulnerable on that mausoleum step. You can feel your nipples puckering into tight, pointed peaks but you recognize it as in excitement rather than in response to the icy wind. It’s as if the cold doesn’t even exist for you anymore, and you cautiously bring your attention up to regard Ajax through the flickering glow of the lantern. 

Only to jump in startelement when you find his face suddenly covered by a mask. 

This one is not the same as Foul Legacy’s ghoulish facade in that it has no mouth or eye holes to speak of and you have to fight down a nauseous shudder when he starts to undress himself. You don’t know where it materialized from, what had conjured it up, but something about this mask is incredibly disconcerting to you. It almost made him seem more like a prop in this fiendish scene, a stage assistant rather than an active participant. 

Swaying unsteadily, you try to force your mind back into the right headspace so that you might find some way out of this but it’s no use. You can scarcely lift your hand without focusing every ounce of willpower you still possess into such a simple action that should have been second nature to you. All you can do is sit there and watch as Ajax discards layer after layer, until he’s just as naked as you and his straining cock springs up into the space between you two. 

Your eyes widen when you surreptitiously take it in, noting the length of it and the girth. He was big. Sizable enough to make you afraid of having it bullied into your body, but effectively paralyzed like this there’s nothing you can do to stop it when he moves to crawl over top of you again. 

Numb with disbelief and thrumming anxiety, you passively let him guide you back to lay out on top of his jacket. Not that it really mattered when you couldn’t feel the biting cold or the melting ice anyway, but you supposed it was still a nice thought. You’re far more concerned about the cock bobbing between your legs when he hooks his hands into the bend of your knees and spreads them wide to bare your sticky cunt to him. You’d never been so acutely aware of your own nudity before; how your breasts come to lay atop your chest, the shape and size of your own nipples. The way your lower belly pudges just so when he folds your legs upward to pin them open and the meaty spread of your pussy lips that you can clearly see from this angle. It borders on obscene, debauched even, especially in comparison to Ajax’s body. 

For he was all smooth, tight lines and flat planes stretched taut over hard musculature. His chest was only as defined as one would expect a young man in his prime to be and it was clear he hadn’t yet fully grown into his own muscle mass yet. The nipples dotting the skin were petite and pale pink, with only a few faint, wispy reddish hairs bracketing the areola. His stomach showed a slight outline along his abdominals which only becomes more pronounced when the tendons flex and shift as he moves into position, settling between your spread legs with an uncannily stiff motion. 

In a distant, dreamy sort of way you realize he looked like the popular subject of the sort of paintings you’ve heard aristocrats sometimes commission from artisans to celebrate the beauty and power of the male figure. The kind that could hide their manhoods behind a tastefully placed tree leaf while the rest was all left on full display without any worry about obscenity accusations being lobbied against them. 

The only part of him that was in any way outwardly lewd or licentious truly was his cock in all its stiff, rigid glory, and it was currently aimed straight at your cunt. 

You snap out of it with a half stifled gasp, keeping your chin tucked down so you can watch Ajax nudge his narrow hips forward until you feel the brief prodding of his cockhead against your entrance. It was so hard and stiff that the foreskin had naturally drawn back enough to expose the dusty pink glans and the weeping slit in the center of it. You knew what this could mean for you, what the consequences might be, but you can’t even seem to find enough oxygen to remind him to be gentle, let alone to ask him to stop. 

So you just watch, a mute spectator to your own downfall, while he pushes and the resulting fleshy slide of him through messy slick knocks a sensitive whimper loose from you. He quickly tries again, readjusting his angle, and this time when he leans his weight into you the head catches in your pussy. He starts to slowly sink inside, one excruciating millimeter at a time, and the immediate stretch you feel to the untested muscles has you frantically gasping for air. Even the copious arousal oozing out of you isn’t enough to completely lubricate the penetration when the girthy weight of his cock was so different from the slimy tongue you’d been violated with prior to this, and you quickly start to hyperventilate. You felt like you were suffocating, being crushed under his mass even for as slight as it was. 

You couldn’t do this. 

It was going to kill you. 

“Relax, little nun. If you focus on your breathing it won’t seem so terrible.” 

Jolting in shock, you disbelievingly tip your head back to look up at Ajax’s masked face. That hadn’t been his voice though. It lacked the boyish, playful notes you’d become so familiar with and instead had carried a low rumble, a rasp. 

It was Foul Legacy speaking to you now through its host. 

“Y - you — why are you doing this?” You manage to blubber with no shortage of effort, but the thing looming over you, penetrating you, just coos a sardonic, chuckling laugh. 

“I already told you, didn’t I? You were chosen to be my bride. And now here we are. Just you, me, the human boy and …” Ajax’s cock sinks a bit deeper into you, forcing the passage to expand and accommodate his size, and you outright choke on the sharp pulse of discomfort that shoots through you. “The new moon watching on from high overhead. Do you know why the ritual could only be completed now, lovely girl? Care to take a guess?” 

“N - no ….” 

Inhaling a savory, shuddering breath, he — it leans further over you to get closer and put that horrid, featureless mask right in your face. Your chest hitches, frightened by the close proximity, but you’re helpless to do anything but stare up at it in your paralyzed state. 

”Some call it the dream seed phase. It’s the perfect time to set new intentions, decide what manifest work you want to set in motion and to work with the shadows the dark moon brings with it. New beginnings, new seeds to plant.” Pausing, it tips its head to one side almost inquisitively. “Do you know what I’m about to do to you tonight? What seeds do you think I plan to sow here with you?” 

Your stomach clenches in debilitating dread and fear, so potent you immediately start to feel sick. “No. You can’t!” 

It cackles a sharp laugh, tossing its head back up at the sky. “I not only can and will, but look around you, little nun. I’m already doing it!” 

It snaps its hips forward then, jabbing up into your guts with a quick thrust, and you gurgle on the pain that quickly follows. You felt like you were being torn apart from the inside out, grimacing when something warm and sticky runs down the seam of your body. It was no mystery what it was and you viciously seethe as you try to struggle against the invisible hands keeping you prone. 

“You sick bastard … stop it! I don’t want your seed or anything else from you!” 

“It’s too late, lovely girl. Just relax. I told you to focus on your breathing, didn’t I?” 

Now that it's managed to break through the natural barrier of your body, the rest of its cock slides in with relative ease until you feel Ajax’s pelvis press flush against yours. It finally lets up its hold on your knees, keeping you pinned down with just the weight of its human host settling on top of you so it can lay out over your heaving frame instead. You try to fight it but your limbs still don’t want to cooperate even as it wraps those long, spindly arms around you and clutches you to its front. It presses that horrible mask into your neck then, murmuring a final tender word of advice to breathe through it. 

And then it’s moving. 

Gently at first, while your cunt adjusts to being stuffed full, it rocks into you at an almost leisurely pace that leaves you grimacing at the foreign sensation and the discomfort that comes with it. This was much different from Foul Legacy’s tongue which had almost moulded itself to the natural shape of you, fitting into a predefined slot without stretching it out into a completely new shape. The flesh and blood cock currently shoving deeper and deeper into you demanded space though, forcing your insides to make room for it and seemingly rearranged your guts in the process. There was pressure in places you didn’t even know existed, your lower extremity organs screaming out in distress while your thighs fiercely ache where they’re forced into a wide spread around Ajax’s flexing waist. 

You think it excruciating and terrible, not at all what you’d expected from this ordeal, and you desperately pray for it to end. 

But then, to your great surprise, something slowly starts to shift and the pain gradually fades before receding completely. Left in its wake is a dizzying rush of endorphins, pleasure fueled adrenaline so intoxicating you cling to it in your desperation for reprieve. And it doesn’t disappoint, you’re quite glad to find, for the more you give yourself over to that fleeting pinprick of distant euphoria the better it feels. Whether by virtue of the still pulsing mark on your belly or the simple, innate programming in your human brain, the once violent act of sex soon takes a turn for the better. 

And Foul Legacy must feel the change in you on some level because it picks up its pace, thrusting in and out of you more vigorously now until the distinct plap plap plap plap of fleshy hips meeting your soft inner thighs rings out over the otherwise still and silent cemetery. It spears you on its cock, again and again, and again to carve out a space within you and claim you for itself. A low simmering heat quickly starts to build in your cunt, and it’s only further fueled by the bestial grunts and sighs it issues against your sweat dampened neck.

You were drowning in it, so many different sensations and sounds and smells assaulting you all at once that the only thing you can do is weakly cling to Ajax’s working sides for something to hold onto. He works tirelessly over you to keep his pace quick and snappy, while also maintaining the measured length of his strokes at the same time. It does wonders to feed into the flames licking just below the surface, making your cunt squeeze him and gush even more sticky slick despite your initial displeasure. You even start to think that maybe this isn’t so bad after all. 

But then something happens — a flicker just at your peripheral, a waver in your swimming vision that briefly makes his burnished red-brown hair look wild and untamed. You have no idea what to make of it at first and then it happens again, this time turning his narrow frame big and bulky, the skin darker in color and much more thickened out with muscle mass. 

You don’t even have the wherewithal to gasp, just staring in slack jawed disbelief as Ajax starts to slowly change right before your very eyes while he continues to pound you into the top step of the mausoleum. You can feel it too, you’re more than just a bit horrified to realize. The way his musculature seems to grow and reorient itself, bulging under your hands with an unnatural slithering. 

The mask is the first thing that seems to fully cement itself into reality and you stare in horrified silence as that singular, unmoving eye forms out of nothing to blink open at you. The horns come next, sprouting up out of Ajax’s head at an alarming rate and the hair quickly follows suit. It’s like being pressed up against some unfathomable, writhing mass of serpents that coil and ball themselves together to form a new shape that is not nearly as alien to you as you’d like it to be. 

You didn’t understand how it was possible but somehow, some way, Foul Legacy was forming itself into the real world using Ajax’s body as a conduit to do it. 

And you … were you the energy supply it was using to fuel its transition with? 

“Oooh,” It rumbles over top of you, shuddering like an intangible mirage while the rest of it takes shape in a roiling wave of skin and sinew. “That surge of fear you just felt … if you keep feeding me like this, I won’t be able to fuck you properly when we’re done. Surely you don’t want to go without, do you?”

“You … you’re consuming my fear? To give yourself power?” 

“I can but I much prefer the taste of pleasure, don’t you?” Breathing out a terse, shaky exhale, it tips its monstrous head back to sigh up at the gloomy night sky. “Get ready, little love. Brace yourself. It’s coming.” 

“Wha - -“ 

You cut off with a sharp, haggard gasp when you feel its hips start to widen and fill out against you. Whereas Ajax was lanky and narrow waisted, Foul Legacy was much more broad and thick, and the stark difference in their builds slowly starts to force your legs into an even wider spread until you cry out at the stretch. Jerking your attention down, you glance between your body and his to watch its stomach grow hard and chiseled, the center line of its massive, hulking frame leading straight to the spot where the two of you were connected. 

And you can feel it as soon as its cock starts to grow inside you, almost immediately pushing your inner sleeve well past the point of human adaptability. You shriek and writhe, twisting in a blind attempt to escape the inevitable, but it’s got you so thoroughly impaled that there is no getting free. It just keeps swelling and swelling until you can feel the unnaturally large head pressing uncomfortably up into your cervix, and with it comes the distention of your stomach. It’s almost too terrible to watch but you can’t quite bring yourself to tear your eyes away when the distention forms just below the skin under your navel and presses up into an alarming bulge. The demon mark gets pushed up and out in the process, further highlighting the fact that it seemed to be glowing from within. You’d never seen anything like it in your life. 

But somehow even more astounding is the fact that it doesn’t rip you clean in half. It doesn’t exactly feel good, being this stretched out on something so big, but you realize that you’re still in one piece. At least for the time being. 

“Ooh, fuck.” Foul Legacy drops its head back down to seethe into the scant space separating you from its horrid face. You realize then, as you look up at it in shell shocked disbelief, that the transformation was complete. There was no sign at all of the young soldier now, just the one-eyed wraith looming over you in all its terrible glory. It was somehow even worse than your worst nightmare. 

“Are you … are you satisfied now?” You rattle out, shuddering from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes. 

Giving its head a vicious shake as if to clear its mind of some lingering fog, Foul Legacy peers into your face, your very soul, with its singular red eye. “Impatient for that proper fucking I promised you? I always knew you had it in you, little nun. Don’t worry though. I won’t disappoint.” 

A fresh tendril of horror curls through you when it straightens up to kneel on the step of the mausoleum, taking your hips in between its massive hands to hold you in place. Bile rises in your throat and threatens to suffocate you as you snap your attention back down to watch it slowly ease its huge cock out only enough to make the bulge in your stomach recede. Then it pushes in again and you openly gape at the way it forces your stomach out to make enough room for it to fit. And that was to say nothing of the intense drag against your guts, the way your gummy inner sleeve weakly tries to cling to its shaft on the way out only to then yield under the intense pressure of the next upward plunge. 

Foul Legacy still deigns to show you some kindness though, and it fucks you at a slow, even tempoed rhythm even while you mindlessly writhe and jerk on its huge cock. But you had nowhere to go, no options except to take it, and you do so with numb tears tracking down your face. Even if this didn’t kill you, even if you didn’t break, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you would be forever ruined after this. The demon had taken everything from you. Your freedom, the sanctity of your virginity, even your one and only consolation prize in all this mess when it used Ajax’s body to transition to reality. Would you ever see him again, whole and the same as he was before? You weren’t so sure about that and you didn’t want to think about it too hard just yet. 

“You look so good like this … submitting to my cock like a good girl, taking it like a champ. I told you I chose you for a reason, didn’t I?” 

Stirring out of your stupor enough to glare up at the foul beast, you give it a weak look of warning. “Do not … agghhn! Do not speak to me ever again you — you wretched fiend. I’ve had … my fill of you.” 

“Ooh, don’t say that. We’re going to be together for a very long time to come. You’ll need to find some way to tolerate me for at least a little while.” Chuckling faintly, it starts to pick up the speed only enough to make your tits shift each time it thrusts into you and the soft sound of skin smacking against skin rises in the air again. “The marriage rite is almost complete. I’ve already spilled your virgin‘s blood and now all that’s left is to fill you with my seed. Once that’s done, you’ll be bound to me for an eternity, soul, body and mind. So tell me, my sweet bride. What weighs on your mind? Quickly, before it’s too late.” 

You try to speak but nothing comes out except a series of wounded little animal noises that it punches out of you with its cock. It didn’t feel good, it didn’t but … the pressure pushing in on your guts was too much, and the increased pace wasn’t helping. You could feel your eyes starting to roll back and you desperately clench your teeth in a blithe attempt to hold back the wailing shrieks trying to claw up your throat. Your stomach felt like it was being shoved up into your chest cavity! 

“Nnnngghhnnn ... Ahh, aaghhnn, A - Ajax …!” 

“Oh? You’re worried about him? Hah. I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew you liked that boy far more than you were willing to admit, even to yourself. But worry not, little love. He’s just fine. I’ll give him his body back once I’m done with it.”

Head bonelessly lolling against the step, you dazedly blink up at the sky and slur out a nearly unintelligible,“R - really?” 

“Yes. Now get ready. I’m close … gonna’ fill you up until it’s leaking out of you for days to come. Ahhh … I’ve been waiting this whole time, you know. There’s plenty stored up just for you.” 

You grimace at the thought and try desperately to rouse yourself for one last attempt to wriggle free but it’s already too late. Foul Legacy starts to huff and grunt in earnest, it's hips driving into you a little bit quicker. A little harder. Your tits bounce vigorously with each thrust now and you whimper at how every inch of your body seems to ache in protest, especially your poor stomach. 

But it quickly becomes apparent that its ordeal hasn’t quite reached its end yet when the demon finally judders with a low, seething hiss as it buries its cock as far into you as it will go. The sharp pressure right on your cervix makes your legs spasm and you cry out, struggling to breathe through it. The first searing hot pulse of thick, creamy semen shooting off right against the opening of your womb immediately robs you of all your oxygen though and you gasp like you’re drowning. The sound lodges in your throat, making you gurgle, and then the next spurt from its pumping cock floods the first. With nowhere else to go, you feel some of it seep deep into your loins, far beyond what a normal cock should reach, while the rest of it oozes out to bubble down your stretched open cunt. 

And it just keeps coming, one unbearably warm spurt after another until enough of it has forced its way into your womb that you can feel your belly bloating up under the pressure. Mewling in wordless distress, you shakily lift your head to glance down at yourself and you immediately don’t like what you see. Your stomach round and heavy, and this time it stays that way even when the demon issues a deeply satisfied breath before slowly pulling out. The bulge remains, and you feel a tiny little part of your ego die and chip away with it. 

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. 

“Don’t mourn, my lovely bride. There is a chance my seed won’t take root right away, you know.” 

Its massive cock finally slips free with an accompanying wet slurp and a fresh flood of unstoppered semen rushes out of you, thoroughly coating you in the mess. Warbling a horrified little sound, you try to push yourself up to sit but you’re so unaccustomed to your stomach being this round that you end up right back where you’d started, wetly gasping on the step of the sepulcher. 

Watching you closely, Foul Legacy gives a thoughtful tip of its head. “That seems a bit unlikely though, doesn’t it? With so much of it in your womb, surely at least one will find its mark.” 

“You … I hate you! I really do!” 

“Oh, now don’t say that. There’s still plenty of time for that further down the road, isn’t there? By the way, don’t think I’ve forgotten our little deal.”

Sniffling sadly, you look up at it with as much vitriol as you can muster. “What deal? I never agreed to anything with you!” 

“Lying is such an unbecoming habit, sweetheart. Even if it is only by omission.” 

Hunching over you like it were some hideous gargoyle poised to take off into the night, Foul Legacy reaches out for your face with its clawed hand and you quickly screw your eyes shut so you don’t have to see what it does to you next. To your reeling surprise, however, all it does is slip one long finger under your veil, peeling it back and away. 

Your eyes instantly pop back open in mute horror as your hair spills out over your shoulders. A million thoughts run through your mind at all at once, a million protests to dissuade it from looking. You couldn’t even recall the last time you’d had your hair uncovered in front of a man and it leaves you feeling strangely more naked and exposed than your actual nudity does. 

But you don’t get the chance to give voice to any of it before Foul Legacy delves its hand into your hair, taking a big tight fistful of it so it can yank your head back. Hissing like an incensed cat, you shoot daggers at the foul beast as you're made to look up at it but it just passively stares at you with that unblinking, horrible eye. You felt like you were going to be sick all over. 

“I look forward to enjoying the rest of our lives together.” It all but purrs at you, jaw hinging open to let its long, serpent-like tongue slip out to flick tauntingly at the corner of your mouth. “Together, forever. In holy, sacred matrimony … isn’t that right?”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[billiousserpent]

Little midnight doodles

[ornii]

Who Broke it?

Wednesday and Company stand over the body of her Brother (Y/n), with a knife in his chest. Wednesday, as calm as ever, starts.

Wednesday: So… who broke it? I’m not mad, I just want to know.

Enid: … I Did, I Broke—

Wednesday: No, no you didn’t... Ajax?

Ajax: Don’t look at me, look at Eugene.

Eugene: What? I didnt break it.

Ajax: Huh, that’s weird, how’d you even know it was broken?

Eugene: Because it’s sitting right in front of us, and it’s broken.

Ajax: ..Suspicious.

Eugene: No It’s not—

Xavier: if it matters, probably not but.. Yoko was the last one near the cafeteria—

Yoko: Xavier i don’t Even eat food!

Xavier: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Yoko: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles everyone knows that XAVIER—

Enid: Okay- Okay, let’s not fight I broke it let me fix it Wednesday—

Wednesday: No, Who broke it?

Silence falls, until Ajax speaks up near Wednesday.

Ajax: Wedensday… Bianca has been awfully quiet—

Bianca: WOW, REALLY?!

The group burst into an argument, outside the room Wednesday leaves.

Wednesday: I broke it, he annoyed me so I stabbed him. I predict ten minutes from now they’ll be at each others throats with war paint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.. Good, it was getting a little chummy around here…

[fairykazu]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW FT. MULTI CHARACTERS contents // basically: what would they react to the coquette trend on tiktok, childe, scaramouche, dan heng, gepard x reader (separate), established relationship, modern au, petnames (childe: babe, scara & reader: honey, gepard: sweetheart), lipstick is used in dan heng's but you can pretend it's something else. bow divider | gi masterlist | hsr masterlist

CHILDE: he's confused and lets you do whatever you want

"babe, can you move closer to me?" you asked your boyfriend as he thought you wanted to kiss. he leaned towards you only for you to wrap his head with a bow. his lips were not met with your soft ones but instead a soft fabric. he quirked a brow as you explained, "well, it's a trend on tiktok. i just thought you would look so cute with bows."

he pointed at his mouth covered in a pink, satin bow. "oh, you are just as cute with your mouth closed." he rolled his eyes as if to say "ok, name."

"give me your hands." he placed his hands into yours as you tied little ribbon around them. "see, don't you think you look cute?"

"mhm!!." (duh!!) you laughed softly as you took out your phone, a bright flash came on as childe squinted his eyes from the aftershock. "not too much, babe."

SCARAMOUCHE: he puts up a fight but lets you do it regardless.

scaramouche noticed you were slowly inching towards him with a ribbon roll in one hand and your phone in the other. he knew what this meant: a tiktok trend you desperately needed to be a part of. does he do it? yes but not without a fight first.

"honey, i have an idea!!" you exclaimed, trying to hide the items in your hands behind your back. he sighed, pinching his nose bridge, "name, is it tiktok related?"

dropping your phone and the roll of purple and pink ribbons behind a pillow, you sheepishly put your hand on your neck, "no??" despite your refusal of admitting it is a trend you saw on social media, scaramouche knew that from the hand on your neck was a tell of yours. a tell you always use and somehow think he hasn't caught on.

"the last few times you tried to pull this one on me was two weeks ago, last week, the day before yesterday and this late morning." scaramouche recounted as your trying-to-keep-it-cool face fell to the floor. laughing manically,

"ummm, can we not talk about that??" scaramouche smirked as he knew he cornered you where he wanted you.

"so is it?"

"yes...." you said in defeat, leaning onto him as you grab the rolls and your phone that were "hidden" with the throw pillows on the couch. you drawled out the 'o' in 'so', "so..."

"so?"

"can we do the trend now, mr. instigator."

"mr. instigator? i thought i was 'honey'?" scaramouche questioned as your eyes darted the other way.

"well, since you wanted to play games with you, im suspending you from being 'honey' for a week." after hearing that scaramouche became grouchy, he huffed as you unraveled a pale pink ribbon from its packaging, wrapping it around his mouth. "there, so you won't be growling at me anymore."

"mvry funmhm nahmeh." (very funny, name.)

"thank you, i know."

DAN HENG: he knows his significant other is a repost fanatic.

he noticed how you had been interacting with the coquette trend of putting bows to cope with something or just to be cute. he was wondering when you would do that to him. he wasn't sure what "coquette" was, but he had researched it and sort of had the gist of the trend. he had already bought ribbons, premade bows and pearls beforehand and snuck them into the cabinet of little doodads.

just before he was heading to his home office, he was yanked by the arm from you. "dan heng! i have an idea!" you weren't even trying to hide the fact that you finally found the ribbons he had already bought you as the ribbons' strings were falling out of your pockets. you probably were under the guise that you somehow already had needed decorations already.

"what is it?" he asked, allowing you to pull him into the shared mini library, onto the bay window. pulling out the random ribbons you managed to stuff into your pockets, "have you seen the coquette thing that's like trending on tiktok?"

"ive seen it circulating around, why?" dan heng replied as you opened your phone to tiktok. "well, i wanted to do this trend with you! some are questionable like this girl tied the bow on her boyfriend's jeanis. but i wont do that with you. is that okay with you, dan heng."

he wanted to ask what a jeanis is until he saw the video and instantly understood. "of course, that's okay with me." he smiled sweetly as you took that as an initiative to wrap the thinnest pink ribbon around his ring finger, not too tight but not too loose. you placed a small peck on his ring finger, leaving a small lipstick stain next to his knuckles, as he hoped he wasn't looking too flustered.

"name, may i?" confused but you nodded your head anyway. dan heng wouldn't really do anything to cross your boundaries. he took your dominant hand's ring finger, using the same thin ribbon of pink around your finger, making the most perfect bow you've ever seen. you're kind of jealous because now his bow is less "coquette-y" as the one he tied. "you're so cute, dan heng!!" you said, adding a silver of dramatics in your voice. he chuckled as the color of the ribbon matches his cheeks.

as the minutes spilled into hours, by the time you and dan heng is finished, you and him both were wrapped in bows as if you two were christmas gifts themselves. he guessed that santa came a little early just to give him you.

GEPARD: he gives you the signal to do it

seeing how your friends' boyfriends refused the participate in the coquette tiktok trend made you wonder how your lovely boyfriend would react. walking out of the kitchen to the shared bedroom, you leaned into the bed, "sweetheart, wake up." he only murmured some words you couldn't decipher as you sat into the bed, accidently sitting on his legs. "ah, sorry."

"mhmmm, dear, what's wrong?" he asked, a little groggily. rubbing his eyes with his hand, he sat upright. combing the stray hairs from his face, "i wanted to ask you if you wanted to do this trend with me on tiktok. it's basically putting bows on things."

"sounds simple, sure, let's do it." you smiled,

"whew, because i already got the ribbons." you two shared a knowing look to each other just before bursting into a fit of giggles.

general taglist: @ainnofinway

[vi0let-writes]

Xiao x Reader ~It's not love. is it, love?~

Chapter 2: Late night walks

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Taglist open

Summery: A royal AU, where your a princess who is become of age to marry, and princes from all over the world have come to try and win your hand. Among those whom wish to marry you, was prince Adeptus Xiao. He had come from the kingdom of Liyue by command of his father. Xiao wants nothing to do with this but will try to win you over for the sake of his kingdom… but what is along the way, real feelings get involved?

My head hit the bed with a thump, the fatigue from the earlier activity’s tiring my mind and body. Having to entertain hundreds of guests in the span of a couple hours is not for the weak, my heals were scattered on the floor, the beautiful dress hanging over my vanity chair. I had ordered for my maids to leave me alone for the rest of the night. I was capable of taking care of myself once in a while it least.

My mind drifted to the guests that would remain at the castle, chosen by my parents, the few nominated to take my hand in marriage. All that was left, was for them to win my heart, my love and acceptance was all that one of those people needed for me to go home with them and be wed.

Ajax Tartaglia was a kind and upbeat man, a gentleman at heart and a family driven spirit. He would be a fine option, though he did seem a little violence obsessed.

Kunikuzushi Scaramouche Raiden, quite the long name that one.. he seemed to loath being in the crowd of people. We have met once when we were small, me helping him out of a river when he fell, though I don’t know if he remembers that. He seemed to be hiding his emotions behind a tough ragged but beautiful almost puppet like face. His beauty rivals most women I know. He seems to have a short temper, but is good friends with my brother and a good leader. Another good option.

Yoimiya Nagahara, she is a cheerful Women, bright like the sun. She wears her heart on her sleeve. Nicknamed Queen of summer she is known for helping common folk and orphans, donating clothes and food, along with fireworks for fun. She was nothing but kind to anyone she came across today, and only ever raises her voice against injustice. She would be a fine partner.. though better off a good friend.

Kazuha Kaedehara, a poetic man. Kind, and intelligent. He is nothing but a gentlemen, compliments and small gestures are his specialty. He is good at sensing danger if I remember correctly… hmm he is more of a mystery than prince Raiden. Speaking of him, these two don’t get along quite well…

Venti Windblum, a musical genius, a carefree and unbound soul. He believes that everyone deserves the freedom to choose their own path. I do agree with him in that, people should get to choose and be free. But his carefree and almost absent life might be difficult when I comes down to it.

Diluc Ragnvindr, a honorable man who’s family runs a winery. He’s stoic, kind at heart. He has been known to go around and kill fatui soldiers. Not much is known about the handsome red head.

Alhathiam… a scribe worth the recognition, he is reserved and more often than not seen avoiding the crowed. Many say he’s in into his friend Kaveh. Though none can say for sure. If he is, better stay away and let him go for who he loves.

Nilou, a beautiful performer, her dancing brings harmony to people, and sparks hope in many’s hearts. She is smart and deturmand. Not afraid to fight for her rights. She is with the People. Another strong candadit.

Kinich, he comes from a known broken house, before being taken in by the Pyro archon. He is calculated, fair, and reasonable. A very kind man who has been fighting for his country’s freedom since he could wield a sword. Someone I see myself getting along with.

Mualani, another cheerful girl, I see her getting along well with Yoimiya. She is a free spirit and wholeheartedly loves her country. She is a joy to talk to and no one could ever feel left out with her around.

Suddenly I was stopped by a voice. Not even noticing that I had left my room and was now in the gardens.

“Princess… what are you doing out here” bright yellow eyes and soft teal hair. Right… Xiao Adeptus.

A quiet man who keeps to himself. Once orphaned and imprisoned by an evil man. Rescued by his adoptive father the Geo Archon, Morax. He is a strong man, fighting in many wars for his country. He is smart, and keeps to himself.

“Ah! Prince Adeptus Xiao,” I bow to him. “I’m just taking a late night walk, lots to think about with so many suitors wanting my hand in marriage..” I mumble the last part. He shuffled on his feel as if contemplating what to say.

“Ah, yes it must be difficult..” he suddenly takes my hand, kneeling down on one knee and taking my hand to his lips. “If you would like I can take you back to your room… we can chat on the way if you wish.” He looked slightly to the side.

I paused, looking him in the eye. “ if you wish so. I talk quite a lot”

“That is fine” he raised up, offering his arm to me. I take it, us walking side by side to walk me to my room. I talked to him about what I’m to do tomorrow, what I’ll have for breakfast, when my art classes are, etc. He didn’t talk, just listened, looking off to the side as if he didn’t want to be here.

“Ah, this is it.” I muttered out. He nodded, letting go of my hand before bowing to me.

“See you later Princess.” I curtsied back, waving goodnight.

In my room I took off my slippers, hopping back into bed.

Xiao Adeptus… he clearly didn’t want to be here, maybe he was forced by his parents. Anyhow, best make his life easier and stay out of his way. Let him do what he needs. I doubt I’ll choose someone who cares not to even get to know me properly.

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Teehee hope you like it… more of a boring information chapter

Taglist:

@scaramochies - @sl-vega

[yurunivo]

Sypnosis: accompanying your boyfriend to the gym!

TW:fluff, crack(?), not proofread, suggestive, no use of y/n, OOC, modern au, english is not my first language

Characters: Childe x Fem!reader

Ed sheeran

(NAME)

ANSWER PLS

IM CUMMING TO YOUR HOUSE

haha get it

ANYWAY BE READY 😈

delivered 10 mins ago

You were sprawled out in bed, your limbs practically dislocated from your body because of how spread out they were. You heard the notification from your phone, however you were too tired to answer it. Besides, your alarm didn't ring so you had the great idea of spending the day in bed all day. So, you did the thing any normal person would do, falling asleep again. It was just going to be a small nap anyway.

Meanwhile, a very familiar Ed Sheeran wannabe was at your door. He fumbled with the extra keys for your apartment that you gave him (which he totally didn't beg for). He finally opened the door, walking into the house. He immediately ran to the bedroom to see you, only to see you sound asleep. Feeling slightly bad, he slowly closed the door to your bedroom and went to your kitchen. As the good boyfriend he is, he decides to make breakfast for you! How sweet! (You would've slapped him hard if you woke up now).

He looked through your cabinets, mumbling to himself as there was nothing that was healthy, but worked with what he had anyway.

After finishing making breakfast, he wiped a non existent sweat off his brow, grinning to himself. He put all the food in a tray and began walking to your room. Placing the tray on your bedside table, he thought of a way to wake you up. He didn't feel like using that many methods, until thinking of a devious idea. He would probably come out looking like purple guy from fnaf from the amount of bruises he'll get from you, but it was the quickest way he could think of on the top of his head.

Searching the Samsung homecoming alarm sound on YouTube, he blasted it on full volume as he watched you wake up with a cold sweat, your eyes filling with dread.

"What the actual fu- CHILDE?!" You yelled, instinctively kicking him in the arm. He held onto it in pain, wincing at the amount of force you put in to kick him.

"For someone who doesn't like to work out, your hits hurt like hell," he sweat dropped, looking at you in some kind of awe, yet also in fear.

"You scared me!" "I did not!" "Yes you did!" You both accused each other.

"I sent you a message like twenty minutes ago that I was gonna come, didn't you see it?!" He argued back as you took your phone and frantically went through your messages as your mouth formed an 'o'.

"Well, I was sleeping!" You retorted back.

"WHO THE ACTUAL FUCK SLEEPS TILL 10 AM?!"

"I DO DUMBASS!" You held onto your throat as you started coughing from yelling too loud. You cut the conversation short and went to the bathroom, coughing your life out on the sink. Once it downed down, you brushed your teeth and went back into your bedroom, your voice too hoarse to continue arguing, luckily he understood.

You found the tray of breakfast that he made for you and placed it on your lap, slightly grateful for his actions. You held your spoon and ate agonizingly slowly just to annoy him, but he took your spoon away, and started feeding you himself. You couldn't really bring yourself to argue so you just accepted the not asked for princess treatment.

"So," you said while eating, "why did you come all the way here?"

"Can't a boyfriend visit his wonderful girlfriend without any reason?" He exaggerated. You didn't look amused in the slightest. He cleared his throat as he prepared to say his words.

"Wanna go to the gy-" "No." You finished his sentence.

"Why not??"

"Because I don't want to," you replied back.

He thought for a moment as an imaginary light bulb lit up in his head.

"I'll buy you (favorite food) today!"

As much as you don't want to go to the gym, you couldn't really turn down the offer, so you nodded. His face lit up to a smile as you got up from your bed and looked for an outfit to change in. He went out of the room to let you change, even if he has seen you naked many times before. He picked up his duffel bag that he left by the front door and walked to your bedroom door and placed it there. He waited for a few minutes before you walked out of your room. You placed a few things of yours in his bag like extra clothes, deodorant, a yoga mat and a towel.

You went passed him and got to fill your water bottle with ice and water before putting it in your bag. Taking your phone, you were ready to go.

Finally reaching your destination, you both walked out of the parking area and into the gymnasium. You went to your won separate activities as he did and laid out your yoga mat. You got on Pinterest and went to your boards to look at the few stretches and exercises you saved. You put on your headphones and go on your Spotify playlist.

It was a weird playlist, essentially since it was a shared one. On one hand, you have Childe's, which were just phonk songs, some that you knew and others that you never heard of. While on the other hand, was (favorite musice genre), which was yours. You could choose another playlist, but you didn't want to go through the extra hassle.

You started to do your stretches, paying attention to every step of everything. Luckily, most of them were simple enough for you to finish. Childe's phonk songs kind of ruined the vibe, but your songs made up for it. Most of the exercises were small, so you could finish your whole board in around an hour and thirty minutes. You took a glance at Childe, only to deadpan as you saw that he completed majority of the machines. You figured that you could do some light running on the treadmill and weight lifting, since you were done with the exercises from Pinterest.

As you went on the treadmill, you heard Childe whistle from behind you.

"Nice ass darling," he said light heartedly. You couldn't really help but laugh a little before saying thanks.

You continued working out, only lifting a few small weights. Drinking a bit of water, you decided that you were done for the day. You looked at Childe to see him doing some stretches and walked up to him.

"What are you doing?" You asked. You thought he was done with everything.

"After workout exercises," he said with a stupid grin on his face. You wanted him to wipe it right off his stupid face, but you suppose you could wait until you were both in bed.

He got off from doing sit ups and got in a position to do push ups as he smiled at you, obviously going to ask for a favour. You rolled your eyes at how obvious he was, but gave in anyway.

"What do you need help with?" You asked, taking your phone in hand.

"Count my push ups for me, pretty please darling?"

You hummed. Taking your phone and water bottle in hand, you went over to his back and sat on it. You slightly grinded on his muscular back, giggling to yourself as he looked at you.

You suddenly got an idea in mind. You went to your camera app and started to record.

"Can I ask a favour?" You looked at him as he nodded, counting the pushups in your head for now.

"Can you say my name between every pushup you do? I want to make a video." He raised his eyebrow at your words but still did it for you. You counted the push ups still, smirking to yourself as you created the perfect video for yourself.

After you counted till fifty, he stopped doing his pushups. He took the towel that you gave him and wiped the sweat off of his body.

"What was the video for princess?" He asked as you looked at him like you were waiting for him to.

"Free whimpering audio," you said simply. His eyes slightly widened at how blunt you were, but he quickly returned to his original self.

"You could've just asked darling! We can make one in-" you cut him off by putting your water bottle in his mouth. He drank a little from it before taking it away from his mouth and bringing you in for a hug. He kissed your cheek but you swatted him away because he was sweaty (even though you were too). Some people cringed in disgust at the two of you while others cooed at your 'young love'.

Idk how to do dialogue

[e1sn3r]

MY NEW ITABAG ARRIVED KYAAAA!!! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

[tartagliove]

EASY ON THE EYES, EASIER TO HATE. tartaglia x reader ✧ 2.7k words

when the fae raid your village to take humans into their realm, you think you’ll be safe in the woods. but you run into a fae who introduces himself as tartaglia and realize it might have been safer for you to stay at home.

tags and warnings ✧  fae!tartaglia, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used), reader sews and tailors clothes for a living, the fae are pretty brutal, mentions of violence, (ajax licks) blood and tears, chasing (predator prey dynamic), manhandling, all enemies and no lovers (only tension oops). note ✧ this is a darker fic compared to most of my writing; please let me know if I need to tag anything else! title inspired by the song "psycho" by taylor acorn. a gift for @cruel-hiraeth for teahouse's secret santa! happy new year, kae! i hope this fic helps you start off the year right by loving hating tartaglia >u< this was lots of fun to write hehe and got a little long because the au ran away from me... i hope you enjoy! love you lots <3

The snow falls thick and fast, yet the village continues to burn. Screams and shouts of villagers, mixed with the clashing of metal, rise above the roar of devouring flames of blue.

The fae are here.

They pull people out of their beds, pushing them into the streets. Turn their faces toward the light of a burning house—looking for the beautiful humans, still young and nimble. Or searching for evidence of skill in the arts; a pretty face matters little if one can produce beautiful things in ways that the fae cannot. Those who fail to meet the fae’s standards are left alone, shivering and watching in the cold. 

The humans the fae deem acceptable meet a much worse fate. They are picked up and thrown in the back of carts, drawn by horses with ears too long and manes too wild, their coats unusually glossy and vibrant. The chosen who try to escape are bound with rope that cruelly digs into skin. Those who try to fight are taken down brutally, then laughed at as they writhe on the ground—though the fae make sure no permanent damage is done, for that would defeat the purpose of the raid.

A fae bearing a torch of blue flames brings it up to the walls of each house of those who have been chosen. The blue catches on the wood unnaturally quickly, spreading with a voracious hunger despite the wind and snow. Within the hour, nothing will remain besides a pile of ash. 

But by then, the fae and the chosen villagers will be long gone.

You are lucky that sleep is so elusive tonight.

Earlier, after tossing and turning in bed for ages, you give up on trying to fall asleep. It is hard to leave your dog who has curled up beside you in a ball of white fluff, but you press a kiss between her ears before changing into some warmer layers. You sweep a thick winter cloak over your shoulders. It is the most luxurious piece of clothing you own; a beautiful dark green cloth lined with fur, decorated by unfinished hand-embroidered leaves and flowers and bunnies—a project you’ve been chipping away at this winter. Putting on boots that have long since been molded to the shape of your feet, you leave your house to catch some fresh air and possibly tire yourself out along the way.

The blanket of pure white is beautiful. The full moon makes everything glitter as snow stretches from the outskirts of the village into the forests beyond. Snowflakes continue to fall, decorating your hair and eyelashes with diamonds, while the shoulders of your cloak become dusted in sugar. 

It is so quiet out here. The whistling of the wind and the thoughts in your head are the only sounds you hear. You are used to this, though. Every day you sew and tailor clothes in the back of the village’s clothing store, often alone for hours on end with nothing but your thoughts for company.

A strong gust of wind rocks you on your feet. Clutching your cloak tighter and tossing the fur-lined hood up over your head, you turn your back on the forest to face the trail of footsteps you’ve made through the snow. You should head home.

Still, you take your time approaching the village. The snow dances around you and you can’t help but indulge in a spin, cloak sweeping out around you in a swirl of deep green. Your huff of laughter is stolen by the wind, but the delight within you remains.

Then the first scream rips through the night.

You freeze. Scanning the houses on the outskirts of the village reveals no dangers.

Another cry follows the first and you know something must be terribly wrong. 

You start running toward the village, kicking up snow as your mind races. Perhaps someone is getting robbed—but no one in town would dare. Or based on the growing amount of cries and shouts, maybe something happened that has injured a lot of people. A fire?

As you make it to the buildings, you see that you are right. Fire engulfs one of the homes on the far side of town, the flames reaching for the sky. A shudder runs through you at the sight, for the flames are unnaturally blue, and though this is the first time you’ve seen such a thing, you have heard of the stories and warnings about the cyan fire and those that accompany it.

You will not let the fae take you.

Whirling around, you sprint for the woods. The screams of the other villagers ring in your ears, but you know it is impossible for you to take on a single fae, let alone an army of them. They are here to steal humans away. For what, you’re not sure, but it can’t be for anything good. Though you doubt they would choose to take you, the best way to make sure you can see the sunrise tomorrow is to hide in the woods and avoid them all.

Reaching the treeline seems to take ages. You keep looking over your shoulder as you run, half expecting to have been spotted, but you only see more and more flames of blue burning houses to the ground.

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of your home being set ablaze—your dog!—but then you remember the fae only burn the houses of the humans they take and relief washes over you.

With your thoughts consumed by the safety of your dog, you don’t notice that you have slowed, trying to catch your breath in the midst of the trees. Nor do you notice that you aren’t alone anymore, until the newcomer starts speaking.

“My, my. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Dread sinks like a stone in your stomach. You spin, eyes wide as they land on the source of those playful and teasing words, leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed.

You know he is fae right away by his unnatural beauty. His hair glimmers a coppery orange under the light of the full moon, all windswept and dusted in snow. His eyes seem to glow as they scan you from head to toe, a blue just a shade darker than that of the flames destroying the village. Ears taper into a fine point and from his left one dangles a deep red crystal that only makes you think of blood. He smiles, then, as you observe him. His canines are sharp and long, like that of a fox, and you are frozen with wide, shining eyes of a bunny.

He hums and tilts his head. It is then that you remember he asked a question, and your throat works to find your voice to answer him. “I was out for a stroll,” you manage to say, words somehow steady despite your fluttering pulse.

It’s a half-truth, but half-truths are half-lies, and there’s the slightest hint of bitterness in the back of Ajax’s throat that always accompanies humans’ lies. “Oh, really? And was that before or after we made our presence known?”

“Before, actually,” you tell him honestly. “I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a walk. The snow is beautiful and the moon is bright—it’s pretty, is it not?” If you talk enough, maybe he’ll lose interest so you can make a run for it. You don’t know much about fae, but with the way he’s dressed in nicer clothing than what most men in your village wear, surely he won’t care for running through the snowy forest.

He smiles. “It is pretty.” His eyes refuse to leave your frame, and a shiver runs through you. You don’t think he’s talking solely about the snow. 

Pushing off the tree, he takes a few steps forward, nearly silent despite the boots he wears. He stops when you stiffen, clutching your cloak tighter in your hands. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Tartaglia,” he says, picking one of his many names to give you. “And you are?”

You press your lips together and force a smile. Even you know not to give the fae your name, no matter how much of a gentleman he is pretending to be. Your stomach rolls, unease making your heart rate pick up again. “I’m-” You see the way he perks up in interest, expecting a name. “I’m leaving,” you spit out, turn on your heels, and run.

Ajax watches you leave, the green of your cloak billowing out behind you like a rabbit’s tail inviting him to chase. He laughs, throwing his head back as the sound erupts from his throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his breath beading in the winter air.

He had not intended to take you back to the fae realm, but then you had to go and run. And he wouldn’t dare to let all your hard work go to waste—so he’ll participate in the delightful hunt you’ve set up for him.

The ground is uneven beneath your feet. It is hard to tell where the tree roots are under the thick layer of snow and each breath of air feels like tiny needles stabbing your lungs. But you push on, feet pounding as quickly as you can force yourself to go.

You want to be as far away from that fae as you can get. He had not looked like he was going to chase you when you last saw him, laughing as you ran away, but there was a look in his eyes that pushed you to keep running.

When you toss a quick glance over your shoulder, your breath hitches and terror rushes through you.

He’s there. In the distance, but you can see him, weaving through the trees at an inhuman pace, his long legs carrying him far. He is gaining on you and you fear what he will do when he catches you.

You push yourself to run even harder, but your legs burn and your throat feels tight. In your haste, you fail to see the lower hanging branches of a nearby tree. A cry tears from your lips as a thin branch slices through the skin of your cheek, but you barely feel the pain with your face nearly frozen from the cold.

“Ouch,” the fae calls after you. His voice is loud and clear, and you know he’s only getting closer. “Don’t hurt yourself too much trying to escape, okay?”

Through your huffs for air, you manage to shout back at him. “Piss off! Leave me alone!”

Ajax grins, closing the distance. “I don’t think I will,” he says.

He lunges forward and grabs a fistful of your cloak. You stumble from the pull, tripping over your feet. He uses the momentum to spin you around, pushing you backward until you hit a tree, forcing the air from your lungs. His body presses against yours right after, caging you in with one leg wedged between your own.

“Let go of me!” you shout, slamming your fists into his chest. You try shoving all of your weight into him but he simply presses back harder until his chest is flush against yours. 

He laughs—laughs!—as you struggle against him, kicking and yelling and throwing your weight from side to side. He does not budge at all under the onslaught. You do everything you can, but only wear yourself out, leaning back against the tree to catch your breath.

“Are you done?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. “If not, I can do this all night.”

His reaction makes your blood boil, most of your fear buried beneath anger. You glare down past his arm that still grips your cloak and catch sight of a sliver of pale skin peeking through the folds of his clothes. Moving your gaze back up to his face, you spit out, “I hope you die.”

And then you dig your nails into the exposed skin of his stomach, sink your teeth into the arm holding onto your cloak, and shove with all your might.

Ajax stumbles backward. 

You rip yourself out of his hold, twist your body to the side, taking one step forward, free-

Arms wrap around your waist and throw you back toward the tree. Your feet catch on his boot, making you lose your balance, perfect for Ajax to maneuver your body as he wills. This time, he pins your hands above your head, one large hand grasping your wrists, while his other arm presses as an immovable bar across your collarbones. One leg forces its way between your own, and you realize you are at this fae’s mercy, pinned like a prized butterfly in a collection; all pretty and helpless, on display for him to study.

You look down. You don’t want to see the anger on his face before he retaliates for your actions.

The arm across your chest shifts and you flinch as gloved fingers grab your chin, firm but not painful as he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. You’re taken aback by the grin on his face, canines bared and bloodthirsty, but his eyes are amused.

“Try that again, I dare you.” His voice is rough and yet it doesn’t sound like a threat.

Your eyes grow wide. This kind of a creature is not one you will be able to escape, at least not now—unarmed except for your teeth and nails.

Ajax lets go of your chin, pulling back slightly. He’s delighted by the fire within you. When he first saw you, running toward the woods, he simply thought you a pretty coward. But oh you dared to fight back, using what little defenses humans naturally have, and you even broke skin. Though his fae blood allows him to rapidly heal, the sensation of your nails digging into his abdomen is not one he’ll forget anytime soon.

As he looks away from your face to take you all in, now that you’re not struggling to escape, his gaze catches on your cloak. His eyes light up, tracing over the exquisitely stitched leaves and plants of various green threads, mixed occasionally with lively bunnies of soft browns. There’s a rabbit still unfinished, just a cute head and perked ears, awaiting its body to bring it to life. 

“Did you make this?” Ajax asks, thumb brushing over the embroidery.

“No,” you gasp, heart sinking.

He tastes the lie and grins. “That’s not true now, is it?”

It’s over. Now that he knows you are skilled at sewing, he has all the reasons he needs to bring you into his realm. Despair is a heavy weight, mixed with frustration and anger. Tears well in your eyes and slide down the curves of your face. A few droplets spread into the cut on your left cheek, mixing with the beading blood that stains your skin.

Ajax is enchanted. Has he ever seen a human so beautiful?

He can’t stop himself from leaning in even closer until his nose nearly presses against your ear. There’s a moment where you hear him inhale. Then his tongue swipes up your cheek, lapping up tears and blood. His groan of delight is overlapped by your whimper, the cut on your cheek stinging as fear flows through your veins.

His fingers grip your chin again and he turns your head to the other side. Warmth travels up your cheek as he licks your tears, before pulling away with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

As you gasp for breath, he takes in the sight of more tears streaming down your face, shed in mourning for the loss of your life in the human world. Shudders run through you until your tears slow, giving time for your heart to harden. Slowly, you open your eyes to meet his gaze, yours now blazing with fury and hatred.

Ajax grins, taking in the vision before him. “You’re perfect.”

note ✧ ajax makes you point out your home and he gets to dig through your stuff as you collect a few things to take with you. don't worry, doggo gets to come with and is treated very well (fae like animals more than humans, usually).

this is not quite the type of thing i usually write, but i hope it was still an enjoyable read! i'd love to hear what you think c:

[primoredial-jade]

heartbeat

“ my heart's on fire for your love. “

pairings: childe x gn!reader

cw: awkward / wholesome love confession confrontations, spoilers of liyue’s archon quest, reader is a medic, reader has hair long enough to put behind ear, reader resides in liyue, few mentions of light injuries and wariness of death, childe calls reader “doc’” 

a/n: i had finished this and left it in the drafts from over a year ago! this is an alternative story i wrote for a prompt didi ( @monocaelia ) sent me for a drabble i wrote called to be in love, and i guess i totally went a different route for that one. hope you enjoy this one as well!!!

“i don’t get paid nearly enough for this.” 

the harbinger has the audacity to chuckle under his breath, leaning further back into the examination table with one of his hands covering his eye. he keeps his voice light despite the apparent discomfort he’s in. 

“don’t worry, doc’. i could offer a little donation to show my gratitude, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

you can’t help the exasperated, heaving sigh that escapes your mouth. you knew his pockets ran deep, but you weren’t being serious. had it been anyone else, you would have kept quiet to maintain your professionalism, but with childe, this all went out the window. 

being a disciple of baizhu and gui at the renowned bubu pharmacy of liyue, you were prone to getting oddball patients every now and then. having to resuscitate a boy from nearly dying eating jueyun chili’s here, selling medicinal herbs to a woman that ate them raw on the spot there.

but truly, no one was as odd as childe. 

as a medical professional, you couldn’t just turn away a patient if they needed your help. the first time he turned up to the pharmacy with cuts and bruises all over in search of painkillers, you had an inkling who he was aligned with based off of the colors of his outfit alone, never mind the fact that he was obviously a foreigner. 

at that time, liyue harbor had only just survived osial’s attack, and word had gotten around that the fatui had much to do with it. while you remained as concise with your words as possible when handing him the bottle of painkillers, you could not repress the urge to make the passive-aggressive question that, 

“it really is a shame that some renowned factions, despite their cunning in their quest for world domination, do not have professional resident medics on standby. don’t you think?” 

you probably should have been killed on the spot for making such a crass comment. as his eyes rose to slowly meet your own, you found a deep sea torrent of both interest and fascination instead of anger. it had taken you aback, but you kept your chin held high.

needless to say, childe’s interest was piqued. 

he had begun to make it a habit to visit at least once every two days. granted, he really was injured or needed medicine when he dropped by, and you were definitely not happy about it; not only because it was him, but because you didn’t necessarily like to have regulars in this type of job. seeing the same patients, even if it was childe, getting hurt over and over again didn’t do your heart any favors.

sometimes, you would seriously consider if he got himself injured on purpose just to see you.

he initiated small talk during your examinations, and while at first you were curt and to the point, he managed to weasel his way past your walls. little by little, you were falling prone to his undeniable charm.

his stupid grin and quirk of his brow when you made an offhand comment made your pulse quicken, his dumb jokes that you didn’t understand unless you were snezhnayan still made you crack a smile, and the fact that he was always honest with you– you were beginning to tolerate him. maybe, more than you had anticipated.

it wasn’t like you were dumb. you could feel the longing looks he gave while you tended to his shallow wounds, his methods of finding cheeky ways to retain your attention for longer, the way he openly talked about his family. fatui don’t reveal personal information like that to just anybody.

today, it seemed as if he had gotten hit in the face with a dirtbomb from treasure hoarders, judging by the dirtied spots on his clothes. some of it must have gotten in his eye.

“i’m not even specialized in optometry,” you mumble, but he shrugs his shoulders innocently, disregarding your comment entirely.

“so long as you can help me see again, it doesn’t matter to me,” he answers easily.

“let me, then,” you urge in a quiet hush, peeling his hand away from his eye.

he has it still scrunched up in discomfort, and you can see the defensive tears from that eye covering the expanse of his face. while you know he isn’t necessarily crying voluntarily, it still brings a pang to your chest.

with the knowledge that he’s a capable fighter with a pain tolerance that is unrivaled, yet even just a little dirt can incapacitate him– it shocks you. at the end of the day, he was human, just like you.

and if he wasn’t so lucky the next time, it could even get in both of his eyes. who knows what would transpire on the battlefield next. he could… lose.

you’re clearly shaken up by your thoughts, and childe waves his free hand over your face, amusement clear on his expression.

“i didn’t come to one of the best pharmacy’s in teyvat to get spaced out on,” his tone softens, sounding more serious, “i’m fine, trust me. nothing to worry about, see?”

he gives a charming half-smile, and you resist the urge to pinch his cheek in retaliation.

“i’m going to flush it out. don’t force yourself to open it, but if you feel the discomfort easing up, just do it slowly,” you instruct, taking a bowl of clean water to his side.

childe, usually one to make more joking complaints, is uncharacteristically compliant with your demands. the room is quiet as he lets you pour the cool water over his eye, and slowly but surely, he opens it up again.

it’s red-rimmed and has seen better days, but you let out a hushed sigh of relief knowing that it’s still functioning fine from what you can tell so far.

“does it still hurt?” you ask, taking a towel and gently wiping away the wetness of the water on his face. it feels… oddly domestic, somehow.

childe shakes his head no, but squints up at you. “not really, but it’s still a little blurry.”

you hum, sliding closer to his face to get a better look, assessing it for a final time just to make sure.

this close, you can feel his breath fanning across your face. it distracts you, but not nearly as much as the endless pools of blue that are staring right into your own. it should unnerve you, the way they don’t sparkle like anyone else’s would, but it doesn’t.

his eyes flicker all across your face, and you feel heat rising up your neck.

once you nod in affirmation and pull away, it’s only then do you realize the flustered state that you left him in. he’s fidgeting, hands clenched into loose fists and ears pinking. you give him a funny look, unable to suppress a smirk.

“it looks fine to me, childe. thankfully it does not look like there will be lasting damage, but you should really see a qualified optometrist, so–“

“i have to tell you something.” he interrupts, looking bashful. you’re immediately on high alert. childe is never bashful.

“childe, i’m still on the clock,” you remind, already having some idea of what he might have to say.

“then consider this a… a patient telling you about their life, or something,” he finishes lamely, chuckling nervously. you can only chew on your lip in anticipation, blood pounding in your ears.

“well, i...” he takes a breath, “i think... well. i’m in love with a nurse,” ajax admits, posture suddenly straightening, confident. “i have been in love with them for a while now, actually. so… if i were to confess, how do you think they would react?” he purses his lips in anticipation at your response.

despite his unwavering voice, his red ears indicate how he really feels in this moment. he’s cute, you think. you briefly hold eye contact, smirking when he is the one to break it. it brings you a sick sense of pride to see such a powerful man brought to his knees from something like this.

he looks definitively taken aback at the airy chuckle you give, responding, “ah, i see.”

now he is really confused. “i– what?” he sputters, eyes darting over your face to get a read on you. 

the quirk in your brow, the knowing smile you have on your face. really, looking at how beautiful you look in this moment only confirms his feelings. 

the cogs in his brain are turning every which way, until finally, it clicks. he brings up a hand to his forehead, letting out a low grumble of embarrassment. with zero shame, he pulls you toward him by your wrist and leans his head against your shoulder. allowing him this brief moment of reprieve, you bring up a hand to card through his hair.

“you knew?” he asks, clearly ashamed at his lack of finesse. you snort, pulling away slightly to meet his eyes.

“well, you haven’t exactly been discreet…” 

he can only bury his head into your shoulder again, completely flushed.

“okay, well,” his breath tickles your skin as you give another chuckle, “i’ll ask again. how do you think this nurse would react?”

pulling completely away from him, you point up at the clock. he huffs, unhappy with your consistency to uphold professionalism.

“maybe you should ask this nurse in another hour after their shift is over.”

childe rolls his eyes. “alright, alright. then i hope this nurse will be happy to meet me at wanmin’s restaurant with their answer– i will only be expecting good things.” 

he laughs the entire way you shoo him out, and only eases up to lean down and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“i’ll see you soon, doc’.”

[asthedeathoflight]

Yk every time im not listening to Warriors im really content to sit in my corner of the sandbox and ship my side characters for no reason and then i turn the album on and im like. No but Ajax and Rembrandt are in love. For real.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 15: Childe x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6849

Warnings: Afab!reader, Traveler reader, friends with benefits to enemies then back to friends with benefits again, outdoors, impact play (male receiving), switching, femdom elements, handjob, mentioned cunnilingus, Childe being a pain slut

A/N: I have been fighting tooth and nail all day trying to get enough time to post this while I'm at work and nothing has wanted to cooperate with me. lol Also I wasn't able to have this one beta read due to my own negligence, so please forgive any mistakes. 🙈

⭐

You weren’t expecting to run into him out in the rolling fields and verdant grasslands of Inazuma’s countryside. In fact, you hadn’t expected to run into him at all. 

The last you’d seen of the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger was back in Liyue, a whole stretch of ocean between here and there, and he’d looked half dead on his feet at the time. But that was months ago now, and he seems to be back in good health as he lifts a companionable arm to wave over at you from further down the gently sloping hillside.

“Hello, comrade! How are you today?” 

An instinctive prickle makes you puff up as if to make yourself look bigger than you actually were, yet your hand pauses halfway through the motion of reaching for your sword. He wasn’t giving off any ill intent that you could pick up on where you were stood looking down at him, his posture relaxed and at ease to match the big, easy going smile on his face. Not that that really amounted to much in your mind anymore. After all, he hadn’t given the impression of someone who would summon a long sealed god to decimate a city full of helpless citizens the first few times you’d met either, but you knew how that had ultimately turned out for you. 

Still, you hesitate to draw your blade for reasons you can’t quite put your finger on. He looks friendly enough as he casually saunters his way up the hill, those long gangly legs of his easily clearing the distance quicker than when you’d climbed up here. And you’re just confused enough by his sudden appearance in such an unlikely place that you allow him to get closer than you probably should. Was he following you? 

“What are you doing here, Childe?” 

“Ah, I’d say I could ask you the same but I already know the answer don’t I? How goes your search, Traveler? Any luck yet?” Stopping about six feet away from you, the tall Snezhnayan lifts both his hands to brace them against his narrow hips. For a moment he just looks at you as if this were a completely normal, everyday encounter and not one that’s caught you utterly off guard. 

“I’m sure you know of the Fatui’s presence in Inazuma by now?” He finally says. “Not that I have anything to do with the gnosis or whatever is going on at the capital, mind you. I’m just doing some busy work, that’s all.”

“What sort of busy work?” You press, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. 

“A simple investigation and nothing more. Interested?” 

Hesitating, you take a moment to quickly weigh out your options before deciding on the truth. “A little.” 

“Good. Something tells me you’ll be a lot more amenable if I’ve got information you want, so let’s chat. You’ve got the time, right?” Still grinning, Childe loosely drops his arms back down to his sides and starts to shuffle towards you with the clear intent of closing the distance. A nagging little voice in your head warns you to be careful of him and his sunshine smiles, but for some reason you just can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop or back off. 

Letting your mouth tug into a frown, you defiantly nudge your chin up as he comes to stand over you, his considerable height making it so you have to crane your neck back just a pinch to look him in the face. It was probably a mistake that you’d let him get so close but it was much too late to start backpedaling now. No way were you going to stand down and give him the satisfaction. 

“That makes it sound like I have a history of using you for my own purposes, but I seem to recall the exact opposite happening in Liyue.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to exact a little payback for that, Traveler. I’m right here if you want me.” He says, throwing you a quick, overly confident wink that makes your cheeks start to warm. This man … 

“If that was what I’d planned to do,” You softly intone, enunciating each syllable to make sure he catches every word clearly. “I would have done it when you were too injured to walk out of that Ruin Guard factory on your own. You seem to have plenty of connections to some bad actors but don’t mistake me for one of them. I’m not going to backstab someone after calling a truce.” 

Delightedly laughing in response, Childe lifts his brows at you in plain faced admiration. “Well said, comrade! I knew you had the true spirit of a warrior as soon as I met you. I’m glad you didn’t disappoint me.”

You breathe out a terse huff, nearly giving in to the urge to roll your eyes at the hypocrisy. But before you can let that juvenile compulsion get the better of you, Childe subtly shifts his weight and reaches out to just brush the tip of one gloved finger over your wrist. A soft inhale rattles in your chest at the contact, even for as brief as it is, and you widen your eyes up at him in question. 

“I know the same probably can’t be said of me,” He tells you, perfectly earnest now. “And you have my sincere apologies for that. If I promise not to do it again, do you think you can forgive me?” 

You catch yourself impulsively starting to say ‘for what?’ There was a long list to choose from, after all. Acting as if he was really going to kill you? Unsealing a long dormant monster from the bottom of the ocean floor to wreak havoc on a largely defenseless city? Or maybe it was all the underhanded trickery and little white lies he wanted your forgiveness for. 

But you don’t say it. What’s done is done, and in your eyes at least he’d already gone a long way in making amends to you during that impromptu adventure across the rocky Liyue countryside with his little brother in tow. It wasn’t perfect and it was certainly difficult to forget about that whole attempted killing thing, but you’d seen both sides of him now. Both the man and the monster, and you were fairly certain that Childe wasn’t actually a bad person. Of the few Harbinger’s you’d met so far, he was very close to being nothing more than a normal youth, the kind you could run into anywhere in Teyvat. Headstrong and a little foolish at times, but ultimately kind of heart. 

So you finally heave a quiet sigh through your nose and rock back to take half a step away from him, indicating that you were giving him the high ground now. “Fine. I’ll forgive you. If you’ll spar with me, that is.” 

“Oho. A challenge you say?” His smile instantly takes on a sharper edge, looking really quite eager now. “You wanna’ go hand to hand with me, Traveler? I’ve pretty much fully recovered from last time so be careful what you say.” 

You give your head a slow shake, trying not to giggle at his enthusiasm. “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re physically stronger than me and bigger too. The outcome of that is obvious.”

“Then weapons, to balance it out - -“ 

“No. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you or get hurt myself. I’ve still got a long journey ahead of me and I can’t take the risk of you getting too caught up in the moment to keep your strength in check. We’ll use something that won’t accidentally maim either of us.” 

“Alright, you’ve piqued my interest. What did you have in mind?” 

Pinning him with a sly, mischievous little smile now, you back up another step and then another, coaxing him to follow after you. True to nature, Childe doesn’t even seem to give it a second thought and he trails in your wake with an anticipatory grin stretched across his mouth. This was not the first time the two of you had looked at each other like this and as long as both of you continued to keep yourselves alive out there it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

Falling back to the edge of the shady tree line with him, you make quick work of unclasping your sword sheath from your hip so you can drop it in the grass. He watches you attentively while you do it, the visibly stiff set of his shoulders giving away his thoughts on the matter. Just as you’d anticipated, then. A hot blooded young man like him could only ever seem to think of three things at any given moment: fighting, fucking or eating. 

But you manage to take him by surprise when, rather than reaching down to relieve yourself of your clothes next, you instead stretch out your hand to grab a sufficiently proportioned stick from a nearby tree limb. You can see him looking at you rather strangely now from the corner of your eye while you work to get it broken off with a series of sharply brittle snaps before handing it over to him. 

Looking really quite perplexed now, Childe slowly takes the offering from you to hold it up for inspection. “And what are we going to do with this, solnishko?” 

“Spar. Didn’t we already agree to that?” 

“Ahh,” The dephtless blue of his eyes seems to glitter from within, lit by an internal spark as he gives the stick a brief wave through the air. “We’re going back to children’s games to settle our differences then. I like it. We’d have to try very hard to kill each other with these.” 

“Exactly, and no one should get hurt either. Not too badly, anyway.” 

Trying not to grin and failing, you pick out another low hanging branch that looks to be about equal in shape, width and length to the one you gave Childe, working to get it tugged down to another cacophony of rustling leaves and snapping wood. Soon enough the two of you are setting in to get the smaller twigs pulled off to leave just a bare strip of mostly smooth bark along your substitute weapons, exchanging snickering commentary back and forth while you do it. 

In truth you were now looking forward to this a great deal more than you’d expected to when the idea first came into your mind. Sure, it was a little silly and even childish but this should do wonders to repair what consisted of your relationship with the Snezhnayan, whatever that was. Things had been so easy and uncomplicated at first, when he was still showing you around Liyue like some kind of professional tour guide and throwing yet another purse full of mora at you every time you turned around. It just sort of made sense that you’d naturally fallen into bed with each on one or two, or three occasions. 

Alright, maybe it was more like a dozen but you’d had little else to do in the evenings after wrapping up preparations for the Rite of Parting with Zhongli, and the Harbinger always seemed happy to entertain you no matter what time you came calling. 

Even in its simplicity it was still far from ideal considering his various attachments to what seemed to be the opposing side and your own nomadic life in Teyvat. But it was fun and casual in a way that didn’t appear to beget any hard feelings at the inherently impermanent nature of the arrangement. If you could go back to even some small semblance of that dynamic with him instead of the largely awkward skirting around each other you’d had to endure in front of Tuecer then you would be quite pleased with the end result. 

And as the both of you move into position after deeming each other's sticks fight worthy, you realize just how much you actually missed this lighthearted atmosphere with him. You'd probably never be able to find quite the same balance between work and play as before considering how deeply entrenched the two were on both sides but as long as you came out of this as friends again then that would be just fine by you. 

“Shall I go easy on you, Traveler?” He laughs over at you, the playful note in his voice ringing loud as he rather proficiently twirls his stick over his knuckles. Cute trick. 

“Don’t even think about it. I still owe you a solid hit or two for the way you were acting underneath the Golden House but I plan to exact it fair and square.” 

“Ooh, how confident. I like that about you, y’know.”

“I’ve noticed.” Holding your branch much like you would a sword, you drop into a braced fighting stance. 

Childe takes that as his cue and does the same, giving his stand-in weapon one last flip over his broad hand before snagging it in a proper closed fist grip. Except the stance he falls into is wide legged and open, leaving enough vulnerable spots in his defenses that most would assume him an amateur if they didn’t know any better. 

You do know better though, and even after fighting him once before in a real high stakes battle you still take a moment just to study him. Broad shoulders and thin wasted, quite tall but not entirely filled out just yet. He’s almost lanky in a way that you think should make him seem awkward when he moves, just as his posture falsely implies he’s too loose in that stance and too over confident not to get his ass handed to him. 

But after seeing Childe in action firsthand you’re well aware he’s not only light on his feet and perfectly in control of his body, but also rightfully arrogant in his abilities. No matter how many openings you thought you saw in his pose, you’d probably be lucky if you were able to land even a single hit in any of them. 

That didn’t mean you weren’t going to try though. 

Nudging your right foot out to the side, you start to inch your way towards him going in at a wide berth. He smirks at you, catching on that you were looking for a real window to launch an attack through and not one of the ones he’d see coming from a mile away, shifting in the opposite direction to face off with you. For a drawn out moment, all you do is simply circle each other there in the clearing underneath the shade of Inazuma’s shuddering otogi trees, listening to a bird sing in the near distance. 

You carefully watch the powerful flex of his legs while the two of you move, waiting for the right moment to strike. And it finally comes when his boot subtly dips a little lower than any of his previous steps had. He’d likely just sunk into a small divot in the ground and the change in his balance is so slight as to be nearly imperceptible, but it’s enough. 

And you launch yourself forward, kicking off from the ground to give your swing enough speed. Drawing your hand all the way across your chest and back over your shoulder, you mercilessly lash out with the stick aimed right at his stomach as if to disembowel him. The stick swings through the air so quickly, in fact, that a sharp whistle rises up for a split second. 

It ultimately amounts to nothing, however, when Childe keenly dances back on his toes just in time to avoid the strike and your arm simply completes the full arc of the swing without ever hitting anything. Dammit. 

“Woah! You’re really not playing around, are you?” He laughs, falling back just enough to keep you at arm's length. “I thought you said no one was going to get hurt doing this?”

“Too badly.” You stress, smiling right back at him as you restore your footing on the ground and bring the stick back around in a parrying position. Something told you he was going to retaliate after that. “Considering how badly you knocked me around in your other form, I think at least one good hit is deserved.” 

“Aww, want me to stand still and bend over for you?” 

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth, thoroughly caught off guard by that. 

In that split second waver Childe makes his move. His long legs and arms give him the advantage now just as they did underneath the Golden House, and you don’t quite move quickly enough to miss the bite of his stick whapping into the meat of your thigh. The fleshy smack that results sounds much worse than it actually feels, and you bounce away from him on the toes of your boots to get spun back around again. 

“That was a dirty trick.” You giggle through the slight sting as he straightens up, arm angling back to brace the branch over his shoulder in a tauntingly casual pose. “And I thought you said you weren’t going to take it easy on me? I know you can hit much harder than that.” 

“Yeah, well, can’t say I’m much for hitting a woman who’s only armed with a stick. But if you want me to light up your cute butt for you so much I’d be happy to oblige.” 

A slow flutter curls through your stomach, reaching straight up into your chest cavity which slowly expands with the steadying breath you pull in. This was exactly what you’d missed with him. It’s also what had been decidedly absent the last time you’d encountered each other when Teucer snuck to Liyue to see him. You liked this playful, boyish side of him much more than the solemn Harbinger who’d stood in the Northland Bank with you, learning of Zhongli’s schemes together. 

In the here and now, looking over at him across the small space that separates you two, you suddenly realize you’re grinning from ear to ear. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

Childe’s smile grows to match yours, flashing pretty white teeth at you seconds before he lurches into motion. He’s on you in an instant, his gangly limbs once again proving troublesome as he reaches out with his free hand to snag at your forearm. Trying to twist away from his grab does you no good and you let out a squealing laugh as he half spins, half drags you in place to turn your body to the side and point your backend at his dominant arm. It all happens in such a quick blur of motion that you’re only vaguely aware of the stick whistling through the air seconds before he pops you right across the ass with it. 

Even through your dress and bloomers it hurts this time, and you let out a wounded sound of affront when you start to bring your own branch up to blindly swat at him. 

But Childe is already pulling away from you, laughing like a mischievous boy who’s just done something incredibly fun but naughty as he tries to duck out of your reach. He’s not quite quick enough though and you just manage to snag the back of his jacket with one hand while the other rears back to strike. 

You successfully get one good thwap in across his hip, making his laughter ratchet up another notch even while he shudderingly tries to drag himself away from you. The hold you’ve got on his clothes quickly begins to slip like this so you impulsively reach down to snag the back of his pants instead. 

That sudden yank around his hips seems to upset his center of gravity just enough to bring him to his knees, much too busy whooping it up to fight you off at the moment, but that was fine by you. Letting out a victorious sound, you bring your stick down right across the seat of his pants with a good amount of force. But much to your dismay he just laughs all the harder for it, crumpling in the grass at your feet now. 

Standing there panting rather heavily over him, you can’t help feeling a little silly in the aftermath. What were you even doing out here, taking a stick to his behind like a misbehaved child? He was almost twice your size for crying out loud! 

“Alright,” You finally say when his shaking shoulders start to even out again, trying very hard not to start laughing yourself. “I think we may have gotten a bit carried away there for a moment. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I suggested we spar.”

“Please,” He says with no shortage of effort, his voice thick with lingering chuckles and reflexive tears. “You should have seen your face, Traveler. I’ve never seen you look so surprised. You didn’t even look that shocked when I used my Foul Legacy transformation back in Liyue.” 

“Well, that hurt! Of course I’d look surprised when you were still pussyfooting around when you got me the first time!” 

Childe immediately starts to laugh again as if that was easily the funniest thing he’s ever heard and you narrow your eyes down at him, watching his shaking fist pound at the grass. Although you were glad the mood between you and him was much lighter than it had been before, you can’t help feeling a bit miffed about this turn of events. 

Once again waiting until his trembling laughter starts to subside, you audibly huff a terse breath to get his attention. “Did that really not hurt you at all? Not even a little bit?” 

“Sorry, but it didn’t. I’m afraid if your goal is to hurt me you’ll have to do worse than that.” Sniffling a wounded little sound, Childe slowly pushes up to brace on his hands and knees where he lets his head hang low for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time. Thank you.” 

Grumbling something unkind under your breath, you thoughtfully drop your attention down to the seat of his pants. The soft gray material was visibly rumpled from where you’d grabbed him but you could tell that he had just enough meat on his bones that he should have felt something. 

The notion that he was perhaps underplaying the sting, or had barely noticed it when he was uncontrollably laughing like that does momentarily cross your mind. But as you ponder over his narrow yet nicely defined ass an idea starts to form. Maybe the pants were actually the problem? 

Not stopping long enough to reconsider this decision, you quickly reach out to snag your fingers in the waist of his slacks so you can yank them down in the back. Immediately jolting, Childe snaps his head around to look at you over his shoulder with a genuinely surprised expression. 

“Hey — what are you doing?” 

“Just checking something. Stay still.” 

He noises an even more confused sound in response but doesn’t fight it as you yank at the material until you can get it pulled half way down. Across the narrow strip of creamy flesh you expose, you can clearly see a little red welt forming right across the meat of his cheeks as proof of your earlier strike. It certainly looked like it should have at least registered as a sharp bite into the flesh, and you were quite sure you had a matching one on your own behind to go with it, which still throbs even now. 

Lifting your hand, you gently soothe over the mark with a finger but he doesn’t even so much as twitch. “Do you really not feel that?” 

“It’s a little warm, I guess. Nothing crazy though.” A pause while he intently studies you. “Do you want to hit me again, see if you can make it hurt this time?” 

Your attention snaps up at that. “Are you sure?” 

“I don’t see why not, solnishko. You did say you owe me one good pop, didn’t you? I’ll even let you take my pants down if you’d like.” His mouth curls into a sly but still playful grin at that last bit. 

It’s his cocky attitude that ultimately sways your decision on the matter, quickly deciding that, yes, he did deserve at least that much from you. Even if only to knock him down a peg for just a moment. 

So you nudge yourself closer to kneel between the bends of his knees and lean into him, reaching around to his front. Quickly locating the clasp of his belt, you fumble to get it unhooked and then close your fingers in the material so you can pull his pants the rest of the way down without having to fight with it. 

Humming a rumbling sound of approval, Childe slowly lowers his upper half to the ground so he can brace his cheek along his folded arms, still peering back at you with a noted look of interest. You can guess what he thinks this will lead to, and you’d even admit he was probably right about that, but you still had an objective to accomplish first. Considering how much he’d left you banged up before, you certainly thought yourself entitled to some of that payback he’d spoken of. 

And as you peer over his backside, taking in all the lean muscle and the light smattering of pale freckles here or there, the reddish brown curls that are just a shade darker than what’s on his head, you understand why he doesn’t have any problem accepting a little punishment to go along with the pleasure. He was absolutely littered in scars from the tops of his thighs straight down to where they disappear in the pool of his pants and right up from the dip in his lower back to continue on beneath his light jacket. There’s even the jagged mark of a blade that was plunged into his hip — not very deeply, by the looks of it, but enough to leave a reminder. 

On one hand it was astounding that he’d even managed to live this long, given how reckless you knew him to be and all of the proof of past fights marring his skin. But on the other hand you could see now why the sting of the tree branch hadn’t even really registered in his mind. He was not only used to the pain but also probably numb in certain spots thanks to all the scar tissue. 

You’d known that going into this, of course. This certainly wasn’t the first time you’d seen him naked. But his pert little ass was almost entirely blemish free and a strange feeling in your gut compels you now to mark him up and fill in all that blank space, even if only temporarily. 

“Don’t be scared to do it.” He murmurs back at you, snapping you from your thoughtful trance. The vague pinprick sensation of goosebumps erupts across your skin as you watch him shift slightly to bring one of his hands down, reaching between his legs to idly curl the fingers over his ballsack and draw your attention to it. “As long as you don’t aim too low it’ll be fine. These are sensitive, so the one thing I’d ask is that you don’t aim here.”

“I think I can do that.” You croak, suddenly feeling almost dizzy with the sharp rush of arousal that shoots through you. 

These sorts of power games weren’t usually on the itinerary, or at least they hadn’t been before. But, you supposed, things had changed and the dynamic was slightly different now even if the two of you were no longer on rocky footing with each other. You have to figure out how to adjust and slip into this new role though, so you take a moment to palm the backs of his lean thighs and give them a brief squeeze, allowing yourself a chance to relax into it. 

Breathing out a faintly shuddering breath, Childe massages over his balls one last time with that lingering hand before withdrawing his arm so he can brace it in the grass again. Seeing how relaxed and resigned he is to this particular development encourages you and spurs you on, and your palms boldly slide up higher to feel over the rather petite swell of his ass. He’s so tall and thin that you’d almost expected him to be completely flat but he’s actually got a very shapely behind for as small as it is. There’s even just enough fleshy give for your fingers to sink into him just so, and you take advantage of this opportunity to find the fattest part to strike him in. 

It’s not long before your own excitement turns into a constant, thrumming buzz that soon prompts you to reach for your long abandoned stick again. Shifting slightly to the side so you can kneel next to him rather than directly behind, you bring the thin wisp of wood up to place it delicately over the fleshiest part of him right across the center. From your peripheral you can see his shoulders hitch slightly to accompany the faint inhale you catch, but he doesn’t protest or move to pull away. 

Was he really willing to go even this far if it got him back in your good graces? You hadn’t even considered that as a feasible possibility until now. 

“Is here fine?” 

“Should be.” 

The vaguely intoxicated, thick quality of his voice makes you blink but a quick peek between his legs reveals the source. You’d been so focused on his ass that you hadn’t even noticed him getting hard. 

Straightening back up, you give the stick a gentle nudge against him to make sure you’ve got his attention. “One hit to make up for what happened in Liyue. That’s it, and then we can do … something that’s fun for the both of us. Does that sound fair?” 

“Aww, Traveler. Don’t threaten me with a good time, now. You can do it as many times as you want and I won’t stop you.” Rocking back slightly to deliberately push against the stick, Childe offers up a threadbare little laugh. “I’m curious anyway. Can you hurt me? Or are you just all talk?” 

Of course you can see what he’s doing from a mile away and you find that you have half a mind not to give him what he wants, just to see how he’ll behave then. But unfortunately you’re feeling much too on edge and anticipatory to deny him if it also meant denying yourself, so you pull your arm back into a full bend that leaves you ready to lash out. 

“Tell me you’re sorry, Childe.” 

“Wha — oohhn!” The noise abruptly tumbles right out of him as soon as you bring the stick across the vulnerable swell of his ass, cracking him right over both cheeks. He sounds more surprised than hurt, but he also shudders faintly as he twitches forward with the impact. Immediately chasing it with a low, vibrating rumble, he turns his face inward to let out a breathy laugh into the grass. “Sorry, Traveler. I know you weren’t very happy with me or that stunt I pulled. Forgive me?” 

You swallow your nerves down hard, struggling to formulate a coherent response to that. He almost sounded more amused than hurt … could it be he actually liked this? 

Ever so carefully, you pull the stick back from him to find another red welt marring his skin, this one much more pronounced than the first. So his pants had protected him from the full brunt of your earlier swing. 

And he gives his hips a brief wriggle at the loss, making his half hard cock swing pendulously between his legs. Clearly inviting you to either keep going or help yourself to other parts of his body, if you so wished, and you got the distinct sense he was happy with whatever as long as you were there with him. Did that in turn mean he’d missed you too, just as you had missed him? 

Consideringly, you glance down at the stick in your hand and then back over at his defenseless, upturned ass again. There was still an awful lot of unmarked skin there. 

Feeling some of your confidence return now, you fidget on the ground to straighten your spine and round your shoulders, before finally speaking with a smart intonation. 

“We’ll see … I think you can apologize better than that, don’t you? Tell me how sorry you really are.” 

A stiff flex works down his spine at that and he groans, breathy and soft to indicate his agreement. 

“I’m ever so sorry, Traveler — mmmhn!” 

“Without the sarcasm, Childe. Thank you.” 

Restlessly shifting in the grass now, he turns his head to peer over at you with a hazy look on his face that speaks of deep felt satisfaction. Whether it was because of your presence there next to him or what you were doing to him, it was impossible to say, but you decidedly liked that expression on him. It was nice to see him turning into a boneless puddle in response to what you were doing for a change. Usually he was a little too energetic for you to corral. 

His body language reads of perfectly willing submission now though, and you feel unexpectedly powerful as you draw your arm back in preparation to strike him again. This wasn’t just fun from your own perspective of retribution, though it's certainly that too. It was also just an exciting way to reacquaint yourselves with one another and set new boundaries after the previous ones had been shattered by his reckless actions. Although not what you’d expected to come of this, you’re quite glad things had turned out this way. 

So you thwack him once more, catching Childe right across the tight swell of his ass under the previous welt, making him slide his eyes shut and suck in a quick breath. 

“Try again.” 

“Oohn, I’m sorry, Traveler. Please forgive me.” 

Another sharp swat. “Again. I need to know you’re serious about this. Do you have any idea how much you scared me, suddenly transforming into a monster like that?” 

“Mmmm, I know. I wasn’t actually planning on hurting you though.”

“Then you don’t know your own strength.” Chiding him, you give his reddening behind another smack to leave one more faint line running across his cheeks. “I was so banged up I wouldn’t have been able to deal with Osial if everyone hadn’t stepped up to work together. I’m not very happy about that either, by the way.” 

Groaning a low, rattling sound now, Childe lifts his face slightly to fix you with a distracted, dreamy smile. “Give yourself a bit more credit, Traveler. I always knew you could handle it — hnng! Oooh, man. Gotta’ say, that’s really starting to sting the more you do it.” 

Well, at least you were making progress. “Do you want me to stop? I’m satisfied if you are.” 

He hums a soft sound of consideration at that, hips listlessly flexing as if he was starting to get antsy and impatient. And as soon as you lean closer to peer between his thighs, you understand why. Where he’d been only half filled out before, his cock was now achingly stiff and dribbling a slow bead of precum into the grass underneath him. The sight alone is enough to make you shudder fiercely where you’re knelt beside him, close enough that he doesn’t miss it, and Childe offers up a stretched thin laugh in response. 

“Yeah, wanna’ help me out with this? Could really use some of that sweet attention of yours right now.” 

You watch him give his hips a slight wriggle to make his cock tauntingly bob and draw your attention to it, and any resolve you may have had left immediately dissolves. Alright, you could forgive him. 

Quickly tossing the stick away, you nudge yourself right up against his side so you can reach under him and take his twitching length in hand. Childe gives a brief jolt at the contact only to then eagerly lean into it, pelvis working down into your fist. At the same time, you slide your other palm up along his thigh and smooth over his pink ass in a slow, savory gesture that’s meant to really rub the sting in. And it works, his chest stuttering with the hissing breath he abruptly sucks in before slowly shaking his head with a bothered groan. 

“Still not satisfied? Oohhhn … remind me to never get on your bad side again.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” You murmur, squeezing your thighs together in a blithe attempt to alleviate some of the sticky tension there even as you set in to work him over, pumping his cock with measured strokes of your hand. 

It’s clear he appreciates it and even enjoys it, but the attention grabbing throb over his ass seems to be quite distracting for him at the same time. Still, he doesn’t protest or try to pull away, merely trembling there on all fours while you insistently tug at him. 

You keep your other set of fingers busy drawing soft nonsensical patterns over the lifted welts on his skin for a drawn out moment before reaching a little lower to massage over his taint instead. That makes him sway almost unsteadily, gingerly pushing back into you with a gutted sound of pleasure. 

“Do you like that, Childe?” 

When he tries to speak all that comes out is a haggard sound so he sucks in a deep breath, steadies himself and tries again. “Y - yeah. I do.” 

Feeling your own excitement climb just a bit higher, you stroke is cock more vigorously to make his balls heavily sway with the motion. He looked so good like this, sounded so good when he was softly gasping like that. You could easily get used to this, you think. 

“Then cum for me. Go on. Let me see you shoot your load all over the ground, and then you can come eat me out with your sore ass in the air.” 

“Oohn! Shit!” 

He almost violently lurches against you, his narrow back dramatically arching for a painfully short moment before a sudden spasm takes hold of him. Breathlessly gasping and groaning, whining ever so softly in the back of his throat, Childe rides out the regretfully short lived flex of his juddering hips as his cock wildly twitches in your palm, releasing strings of creamy white discharge to plop harmlessly in the grass. Still lightly running your fingers over his taint, you’re rather pleased to find that the simple stimulation seems to encourage his orgasm to drag out until his balls have nothing left to give, and he just impotently shudders through the final few tremors. 

Finally wheezing a heavy sound of relief, all the stiff muscles in his body go lax all at once to leave him roughly panting, trying to catch his breath again. You can’t help feeling really quite pleased with yourself as you sit back to watch him recover, eager for your turn but still perfectly content just to observe him for the moment. He really was gorgeous, and it made for a potent cocktail when paired with how unexpectedly satisfying it was to have a man as powerful and headstrong as him on his knees for you. Yes, you certainly could get used to this. 

Although you weren’t entirely sure how he’d found you here in Inazuma you’re glad he had, and you full on grin at him when he at last recovers enough to bring his head up to look at you. 

“How was that?” 

“Perfect, you little minx. Now come here,” With a bestial growl and a quick flash of his teeth, Childe reaches out to snag your ankle before you can think to pull it away, physically dragging you across the ground towards him. 

Squeaking a small sound of surprise, you fall half of the way back to brace your elbows in the softly rustling grass, but he’s merciless in the way he pulls you closer. The motion catches your skirt under you and bunches it up, leaving your bloomers already partially exposed as he goes up on his knees to loom over you. Pausing only long enough to send you a darkly masculine, hungry look, he quickly sets his sights on the band around your waist to roughly tug it down, leaving you giggling an eager sound into the faint breeze. 

“If that’s the way you want it, fine. I’m game.” He croons at you, smirking deviously when he palms at your thighs to force them apart in a wide spread that fully bares you at him. “Just don’t go crying about foul play later, Traveler. I’m not going to go easy on you this time.”

⭐

Crossposted: here