#nearly die over and over again. and them being forced to be an observer in all of those situatiions

[cursedthing]

i love putting my characters into situations but maybe sometimes i shouldn't.

[aemonds-sapphire]

Innuendo

Summary: Aemond shows up with suspicious marks on his neck and chaos ensues.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Just some comic relief. Aegon being Aegon. Daeron being a cluelessly endearing. Sweet Helaena and her bugs. Alicent losing her patience.

Word count: 700

“What are those marks on your neck, brother?”

“Hmm.”

“Brother?”

“Bruises,” Aemond eventually spoke before taking a sip of his mead.

Daeron’s natural inquisitive nature was as adorable as it was inconvenient.

And right now it was extremely inconvenient.

“Well, yes… but how did you get them?” he said as he craned his neck to get a better look. “Does it hurt?”

Aemond said nothing as he glared at you from the corner of his eye, his silence bearing enough judgement. He was definitely not pleased with the attention those marks were earning him.

To make matters worse, Daeron Targaryen could be as perceptive as his elder brother, so he followed his gaze and turned his head to you.

“Do you know of this, my lady?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly wishing you were skilled enough to dodge this matter. “It sometimes happens… when… huh…”

Gods… what a reply.

Daeron held a puzzled look on his handsome face for a moment before breaking into a boyish smile. “Ah! Were you two sparring?”

“With lips,” Helaena’s faint and delicate voice was suddenly heard as she fondled the beetle resting in the palm of her hand.

Aemond nearly choked and you felt a wave of embaressment wash over you.

She wasn’t wrong at all… things between you and Aemond had gotten heated the night before and you couldn’t help having your lips on his neck, gently suckling.

Daeron’s face twisted into a confused frown. “What do—”

Aemond sat upright, ready to intervene. “Daeron—”

“Aegon!” you beamed so loudly it caused the young prince to flinch as he paced towards the table.

“Not so loud!” he groaned with a roll of his eyes, covering both ears before sinking into the seat next to Daeron.

Truth be told, you had never felt so relieved to see him. His presence would definitely cause the subject to die out.

Right?

Your uncharacteristic outburst of joy earned an eyebrow raise from Aemond. “Daeron I can handle, but Aegon can be… insufferable,” he whispered in your ear, placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a warning squeeze. “Do not draw his attention to us.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, offering Aegon a forced smile who didn’t return the gesture as his face dropped to his hands with a grunt.

“You’re late,” Daeron shot at him with the slightest hint of a pout.

“I’m never late. All of you are just… early,” Aegon replied with a dismissive wave that seemed way too exaggerated.

“Are you drunk already, brother?”

Aegon lifted his head and crossed eyes with Aemond. “Always so observant,” he said. “But no… not yet, at least.”

Aemond had warned you not draw attention, yet he was the one foolish enough to taunt his brother, whose attention had now suddenly shifted.

“Say, brother… what are those marks on your neck?”

You cursed inwardly as Aemond’s grip around your thigh tightened.

“They were sparring,” Daeron chimed in, endearingly clueless as always.

Aegon’s eyebrow immediately shot up. “Sparring? You managed to best Aemond?” he then glanced at you in utter disbelief.

“Not everyone is as incompetent in close combat as you, brother,” Aemond came to the rescue with mocking words.

Aegon could be a drunken fool most of the time, but he was not easily swindled and could read in between the lines like no other.

“Interesting,” he drawled out, visibly reining in a grin. “See, I doubt those marks came from sparring.”

“Is he sick?” Daeron’s eyes widened.

Aegon chuckled and you felt Aemond stiffened next to you. “Not quite, little brother.”

You panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. “Aegon, would you be so kind as to introduce me to Sunfyre?”

That caught him off guard. “What?”

“So what are those marks?” Daeron’s eyes shifted between you and Aemond.

“Made with lips,” Helaena spoke again, absentmindedly as expected of her as she patted her pet beetle.

Aegon gave her a long and odd look. “Must you carry your bugs everywhere?”

She merely shrugged happily with a smile on her face. You envied her ability to distance herself from the this complete mess of a conversation.

“Aegon,” you pressed, completely ignoring Daeron. “I really wish to meet Sunfyre.”

He chuckled loudly. “I know you’re into riding dragons—”

Daeron seemingly understood that reference and gasped, a faint blush rushing to his cheeks.

“Enough!” Aemond slammed his fist on the wooden table, effectively bringing the commotion to a halt. The servants nearby jolted back before freezing in place, as Helaena’s beetle hurriedly crawled away from her hand.

“By the Gods!” Queen Alicent’s exasperated voice echoed through the hall. “Can we not break fast without starting a war?”

She squeezed your shoulder warmly as she walked past you.

“Aemond, what is that on your neck?” Alicent asked as she paced towards him to get a better look. “That looks painful.”

“Do not worry, mother,” he said through gritted teeth. “A small… predicament.”

“Aemond has been indulging in a newfound style of close combat, mother,” Aegon said dramatically, knowing fully well that could set Aemond off quite easily.

“He’s already had too much to drink, mother,” Aemond said plainly, but the hand on your thigh was proof enough that he was getting impatient.

“By the Gods, Aemond…” Alicent sighed heavily as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “We are having visitors today. That is no way to present yourself,” she said, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Go get changed.”

Aegon’s smile grew wider but soon dropped as Alicent turned to him. “And you… please go take a bath and sober up.”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not drunk, mother.”

Aemond held a triumphant expression on his face as he too another sip.

Your heart slowed down into a steady rhythm and you offered Daeron a smile. “All is well.”

Aegon leaned forward as he rose from his seat until he was close enough for you to hear his voice. “Didn’t know you were this… feisty,” he then took his leave before Aemond could get to him with his free hand.

You shot him a death glare, which was enough to earn Daeron’s attention. The indication that he had finally caught up with true nature of those marks was splattered across his face.

“You two weren’t sparring, were you?”

Alicent’s brow quirked up. “Sparring?”

Aemond heaved a deep sigh and turned to face his younger brother. “One day you’ll find a partner and I can guarantee you that things might get out of hand in the heat of the moment.”

Alicent’s mouth hung open. “Oh…”

Daeron nodded as he swallowed hard, lowering his gaze to avoid yours. “I… see…” he said. “Now I understand why Helaena spoke of lips…”

The girl sitting next to you smiled widely at her brother as if talking about something extremely amusing. “Precisely,” she nodded enthusiastically with a clap of her hands. “I think it suits you, brother,” she then said to Aemond who rolled his eyes.

“Oh Gods…” Alicent groaned in exasperation.

[dino-fart]

The Bargain | Chapter 1: Routine

Pairing: Namor x Female Reader

Genre: Action, Adventure, Romance

Summary: To say you had a complicated relationship history was an understatement. Your ex was well...Not of this world? Yet he seemed to always find his way to you. One day he shows up with his new girlfriend asking for your help. You promise to assist if he never shows his face again. What is it he needs you for? And what are you all going to find when deep diving into the Atlantic Ocean?

Summary | Preview | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 (End) | Sequel

I love you but my kingdom needs me...

I’m sorry...I choose...

No! Stop! I’ve made my decision!

Leave her to die!

You shot up from the bed and panted heavily. You wiped the sweat off of your head and reached over for your phone. 

3:00 am...

You sighed and set your phone down. You got up from the bed and headed to the bathroom. Your eyes looked up at the reflection of you. Your hair was a mess, the bags under your eyes, and sweat dripped from your head. You looked sick. You turned on the cold water and washed your face. 

The person that looked back at you in the mirror wasn’t the person you knew a few months ago. Everything started when you met him...You rubbed your eyes and went back to bed, maybe you could fall back asleep? Or maybe you were just kidding yourself and you would lie awake with night terrors as you have been. 

After an hour of lying there, you got up and slipped on a jacket over your tank top and changed from shorts to sweatpants. You walked into your home library and sat at the desk, opening your laptop and continuing your research. The sun’s rays shined through the curtains and you grumbled. You picked your head up from the laptop keyboard and grabbed your phone.

8:00 am...

Time to get up and go. Well, at least you were able to go back to sleep, even if it was for a little bit. You went to your bedroom and put on a collared long-sleeved blue blouse, black slacks, and black ballet flats. You tied your hair in a bun and grabbed your purse. Being the owner of a museum your schedule was flexible. 

This means you would find yourself in your therapy appointments every morning at 9:00 am sharp. You sat on the armchair across from your therapist there with your legs crossed and impatiently tapping your foot on the ground. 

“Did you want to talk today?” Your therapist asked. 

“What’s there to talk about?” 

“Your night terrors...Are they getting better? Are you able to sleep without falling asleep at the laptop?” 

“Nope.” 

“I want...Delve into what happened to you...What started all this? You told me when we first met that your ex tried to drown you?” 

“His side piece did.” 

“Right, but he was there, and...Didn’t help you?” 

“Yeah...” 

“That must’ve been horrible. I can understand your fear of water.” 

“I’m not afraid of water,” You quickly snapped at them, “I’m afraid of riptides...” 

Your therapist was quiet and observed your body language. “You know it’s okay to talk about it here. That’s why I’m here right? It’s what you pay me for. Why see a therapist if you don’t want to talk?” They asked gently. 

“I didn’t want to see one. My friend forced me to.” You corrected. 

“Your friend?” 

“...My aunt.” 

Your therapist nodded and closed their book. They gave you a sympathetic smile, a type of smile you hated. It was a smile you constantly got whenever your story was shared. 

“Don’t pity me...I made a stupid mistake that nearly got me killed.” You scoffed. 

“Everyone makes mistakes. When you’re in love, you make all kinds of mistakes. Sometimes you don’t realize it until you’ve left the person.” 

“Yeah well, guess I was stupidly in love.” 

“...Have you picked up a hobby? Besides spelunking in caves?” Your therapist said changing subjects.

“I started sketching...It’s just been landscapes to help me memorize when I go research.” You shrugged. 

“Good, that’s good! Maybe next session you can show me?” 

“Maybe.” You said cautiously. 

“Well that’s our time, see you tomorrow?” Your therapist stood up and offered their hand to you. 

You stood up and shook it, “Guess so.” You were escorted out of the office and headed back to your museum. 

The bustling city of Madison, Wisconsin was constantly backed up with traffic. You finally made it and walked into the museum. You made a beeline to your office upstairs and shut the door. 

A knock on the door made you jump and you turned to open it. “Hey boss, you forgot to say hello!” The older security guard smiled. 

You gave him a small smile and nodded, “I did, sorry about that.” 

“It’s okay boss, I know you’re getting back into the swing of things after your travels. Take it easy okay?” He smiled and gave you a goodbye wave. 

You waved goodbye and watched your door shut, “Unfortunately I don’t know what that means.” You sighed and walked over to your desk and began your work. 

Night came and you were now downstairs at the Mayan exhibit. The museum was closed and everyone left. You sat on a stool over the coin display case, polishing the coins and checking for any scratches. You adjusted your eyeglasses when you examined them. You weren’t worried about authenticity, you were the ones that uncovered them after all. 

You heard a knock on the door but ignored it, some teenagers were probably playing a trick, or someone scoping the place out to steal. You heard the knocking again and put your wireless earbuds in and turned on some music to block out the knocking. You continued to polish the coins and fixed the description on the name plates. You got to the final coin and polished it as you did with the others. The coin shined like new and you titled it away from you slightly. You froze when you saw the reflection of the coin of a man. You dropped the coin and looked up immediately. 

“Hello, my friend!” The man said cheerfully.

Author’s Note: So I only tagged the reblogs and replies because there are SOOO many of you who liked the summary and preview uwu, so continuing on you can either reblog or reply to be added or just keep an eye out for the fic under the ‘Namor x Reader’ tag! Thank you all for the support and love!

Dividers By: @firefly-graphics

Tagging: @clea-strange-is-the-way, @bontensbabygirl​, @deputy-videogamer, @anthonyedwinstark, @fangirlingbookworm1, @theyluvremi, @bbylime, @redcrayonsforwanda, @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame, @missbeverlyhills, @bluskyy30, @sonadowloverf-blog, @spctorstrnge, @justanotherfanhere, @britty443, @lilithskywalker, @tzurue, @lego0city123, @livingdeadgirl7, @bl6o6dy, @didneyworld13, @bookfrog247, @thicc101q​​

[bunnakit]

The Lyrebird King - Chapter 2

To his credit, Caius excelled at being difficult to track down, it was something he took great pride in. It was unfortunate he never foresaw the persistence of a brawler with eyes like spring moss. 

It had been nearly a handful of weeks since the death of Sir Reinald, long enough for suspicion and gossip to swell to a crescendo and die down almost overnight as the populace returned to their daily routines. He didn’t return to the fighting ring, didn’t want to draw the attention so soon, but it couldn’t be helped if he turned his head each time he saw warm olive skin or a head of auburn hair. A lingering regret he didn’t often feel lodged itself in his chest and he half wished he’d been thoughtless enough to leave Aries with his name if nothing else. 

It was these thoughts that caused his attention to waver as he navigated the side streets of Larkfield. Caius turned a pendant in his hand, a golden motif of two keys crossed atop a shattered crown. It was a popular symbol of the Fallen Hierophant; god of rebellion, freedom, free thought, and the dismantling of tradition. It did not take a scholar to understand why the Fallen was so controversial and spoken of only in whispers in most city-states. 

Stuck in his rumination, Caius was careless in a way he hadn’t been in quite a long time. He didn’t see the split-knuckled hand that grasped his cloak and did not immediately gut the force that pulled him into the darkness of a nearby alley. 

“Bastard!” He spat as he whirled around, dagger in hand, to face his assailant. 

“Hush, little bird,” A familiar voice spoke in a rumbling tone that instantly brought Caius back to a night of softly spoken words within a dimly lit tavern and tousled sheets, “You’re a pain in the ass to track down, you know that?” 

The dagger wavered only slightly, moving from a strong, stubbled jawline to the dip in the center of his clavicle. 

“Aries. I didn’t expect to see you again.” His amber eyes lifted to meet green and where he suspected he should have felt fear or even anger, he only felt relief and remorse. 

“By design, I’m sure.” He didn’t miss the way Aries held him so gently; a hand cradled against the very elbow that led to his dagger, the other against his hip with thumb rubbing soothing circles where his shirt tucked into his trousers. It was far more care than he deserved. “You never told me your name, you know.” 

“I didn’t think it would matter, what with the whole never wanting to cross paths again.” Caius’ words were not barbed intentionally, but perhaps it was the indifference in them that made Aries’ brow furrow - or perhaps it was something else entirely.

“Wait a minute,” He watched as Aries’ hand lifted to touch the apple of his cheek, calloused thumb stroking over a scabbed cut that lingered there, “Who did this to you?” His gaze darkened and Caius would need to be a far stronger person to quell the rapid beating of his heart. 

“My name is Caius. Now what is it you want?” He turned his head away, effectively dislodging the touch that caressed his skin as if he was something precious to be treasured, not the tarnished scrap he knew himself to be. He hoped it was enough to deter the subject entirely. 

“Did he do this to you?” Aries wondered, fingers having fallen to trace down his jaw, further down the delicate column of his neck, and rest just against the spot where his pulse hammered frantically. 

Caius should have known Aries’ observational skills would pose an issue. It was what had drawn him to him like a moth to a flame; the way he’d carefully observed the other fighters around him and planned accordingly, the way he’d known about the watered-down drink at The Wounded Wyrm, and again here in the way he worried over something that was now little more than a scratch. He’d allowed a strong physique and gentle eyes to lull him into complacency. 

“This is the last mark Sir Reinald will ever leave upon this world.” He bared his teeth against the words as if daring Aries to challenge him, to threaten him, anything. It would be so easy for those strong, scarred fingers to wrap around his throat, and it would be so easy in turn to sink the point of his blade into Aries’ rib. 

As Aries leaned forward, knife pressed against the soft flesh of his unprotected torso, Caius succumbed to a startling realization. He didn’t want to hurt Aries. His eyes fell to watch as a small crimson bloom spread across the thin cotton of Aries’ shirt, the nocuous mark enough to shock him into dropping the dagger with just a twitch of his fingers and a halted gasp. 

“Good. The man deserved his fate and I only hope those collaborating with him fall to ruin as well.” Aries spoke with such stern vindication, with such passion that it immediately had Caius lifting his gaze again. “Any person that abuses their position of power to hurt those less fortunate than them deserves to fall from grace - and may it be a violent and spectacular fall for all to witness.” 

He narrowed his gaze at the words, searching them for deceit or half-truths. “It would be so easy for you to take me to the guard and turn me in for a reward.” His eyes fell again to the hand on his elbow, just cradling gently and leaving him all the opportunity to flee should he choose to do so. “I’m not going to do that, Caius,” Aries spoke with a soft smile, his incessantly kind eyes crinkling in the corners, “and I think you know that. I do think you should lay low for a while, maybe get out of Larkfield for a bit. Do you have a place to stay?” He wondered and he sounded so damnably concerned it set Caius’ teeth on edge.

“I don’t need your concern. Larkfield isn’t my home and I don’t intend to stay.” He only just held himself back from snarling the words. He wasn’t used to being cornered or surprised and would have to ensure it didn’t happen again. 

“Good, good. In that case, I’d like to join your little effort here.” It took a moment for the words to register as Caius was almost certain he’d heard them incorrectly. 

“Pardon?” 

“I’d like to assist in whatever crusade has you holding the rich, affluent, and corrupt accountable for their misdoings.” He gave a lopsided smile, one Caius remembered seeing weeks ago, in the fleeting hours of the night before falling into a brief slumber. “Why?” Aries wasn’t well off, that much was certain, but he could come up with no reason for him to take such a risk, to put such a target on his back. Caius knew he was good company but he was by no means that good. 

“Because things need to change and, I don’t know, I think maybe you’re just fuckin’ crazy enough to pull it off.” Aries shrugged, hands finally dropping from where they’d held him with feather-light touches. “You took out the Knight Captain of all people, I don’t expect he went down easily.” He lifted a scarred brow and Caius couldn’t help but scoff at his certainty. 

“It’s quite easy to take someone out once they’ve invited you into their home, into their bed,” He knew he shouldn’t gloat, knew he could keep his mouth shut and his methods to himself but there was just something about Aries that wound him up like a roll of silk at the market, “Some may call it honorless, but I don’t remember claiming to have any to begin with.” He glanced out the mouth of the alley, grateful the streets were still busy at this time of day. 

“Had you intended to do the same for me?” Somehow, the question from Aries wasn’t accusatory, wasn’t judgemental, there was only a lingering curiosity in his tone. 

“No. You were information.” Caius kept his words clipped and succinct, knowing he’d already said far, far too much. 

“Ah, I’m flattered,” Aries laughed, pure and mirthful despite just learning he’d been manipulated, now complicit in the death of a high-ranking member of the Guard, “But you should have dug even deeper.” He leaned down, their breath mingling with the proximity. 

Caius’ breath stilled in his lungs and for a moment he was certain Aries was going to draw him close and kiss him the way he had the moment the tavern room door had closed behind them. 

“Let me follow you, Caius. You say jump, I’m already halfway down the cliff. We’d work well together and I think somewhere in that frigid heart of yours you know it.” 

“Why are you jumping off a cliff? No, don’t answer that - Are you an idiot?” Caius spat, all his bewilderment, frustration, curiosity, and any other latent emotion bubbling forth into one exhalation of disbelief. 

“Do you want me to answer that one?” Aries was laughing at him and even the way he teased and mocked him was gentle. What an insufferable fool of a man.

“Gods, no, just… Follow me. I have a feeling you’re going to be relentless about this anyway.” He sighed, grasping Aries’ elbow and leading him out into the main populace. 

“Hmm, you really do read people well, don’t you?” 

Caius refused to acknowledge Aries any further as they trekked through the cobbled streets and thankfully, it seemed Aries received the unspoken command as he offered no further quips or remarks. It wasn’t a terribly long journey, no more than an hour at most until Caius began to slow his steps and scan their surroundings. 

“Is this the part where you kill me in the middle of the woods where no one will find my body?” Aries wondered from where he leaned again a stone pillar, ruins of an age long passed, with arms crossed and posture slouched as if the thought did not trouble him one bit. 

“Hardly,” Caius nearly growled as he stepped forward, and then back, “Ah, there you are.” He knelt down and brushed away the forest detritus to reveal a warped, discolored wooden hatch. He tugged on the rusted handle, ignoring the flakes of iron that fell away as he revealed a winding staircase into the depths below. 

“Coming?” He wondered, brushing off his hands and taking the first step towards the gaping darkness. 

Aries hesitated a moment, gaze flitting between the scraps of ruins that dotted the forest before turning back to the haunting entrance. 

“I really must be an idiot.” He whispered before following close behind. He resisted the urge to shiver once they were fully submerged in darkness, the drop in temperature jarring compared to the warm humidity outside. 

“Close the hatch please.” Caius instructed as a little flame came to life in his hands, dancing along his fingertips and leaping to a nearby sconce to illuminate the pathway down. 

“You’re a magic user.” Aries’ voice was tinged with awe as he first followed the instructions given, and then followed his escort further into the chamber. 

“Only the most rudimentary of magic and illusions, I prefer to do most things by my own hands.” Caius offered as he continued down the winding steps, the walls around them littered with various foliage and moss. 

Before too long the walkway opened into a massive, sprawling cavern where a steady flow of run-off water was traversing through the center and branching off down several avenues. They found themselves in an ancient cistern, likely used for storage if the rooms and alcoves were any indication. The moving water kept the area from smelling too terribly of must and mildew, and it seemed there had been a recent effort to clear the stones of any slippery algae. 

“Shit, this is…” Caius turned his head to watch the awe on Aries’ face, a smile tugging to his own lips at the memory of his own first discovery of the ruins. 

“Amazing, isn’t it? Why they were ever abandoned, I’ll never know. But one man’s trash and all that.” He shrugged off his cloak and continued his trek into one specific cell. While there was no door it was obvious this was Caius’ own space, a weathered desk pushed to one side of the space, a makeshift cot on the other. A broken armor rack stood at an angle in the corner and he didn’t hesitate to toss his cloak onto it, watching as it rattled and shook in place. 

“You’ve been under everyone’s noses this entire time,” Aries laughed from the doorway, leaning in the empty space with his arms crossed. His eyes never left Caius, tracking his every movement and taking in every detail of the sparsely furnished ‘room,’ down to the worn but intricately patterned rug. “Amazing.” 

Caius rolled his eyes at his easy, pleased smile. He knew Aries wasn’t a man easily impressed, their first interaction had confirmed as much when he’d scowled in the face of his peace offering. Somewhere deep in his chest he found he hated the way that single smile made him want to pull more and more from the inquisitive brawler. His smile was infectious, like the sun peeking through the clouds after days of rain. It put him on edge in a way that was different than his normal paranoia and suspicion. 

“It should go without saying but this location is meant to remain a secret, as is everything else relating to me.” He warned as he rolled his sleeves to his elbows and shed the leather corset around his middle. He could feel Aries’ eyes burning against every inch he uncovered, and yet the attention didn’t boil his blood in the same way it so often did with others. Perhaps it was because he already knew what kind of lover Aries was, or perhaps he had grown weary after days of evading the guard and laying low within the confines of town. 

“I told you, I’m with you,” Aries replied, taking a step forward until he crowded into Caius’ space, their breath almost mingling from their closeness. “The two of us could turn the aristocracy on it’s head.” 

Caius stared up at him from beneath his fringe, jaw set and eyes roaming every plane of scarred, stubbled face. Aries’ stern eyes belied his gentle kindness, his silent plea for trust, and his low-burning fire of arousal. When Caius peered past the confident facade there was no deception to be found in the gentle man beside him, and that baffled him. 

“What do you set to gain from this?” His words were serrated, as much a question as a warning. 

Aries held his tongue for a few passing moments, eyes flitting back and forth and no doubt taking in Caius’ own expression - One he hoped conveyed his suspicion, reluctance, and begrudging acceptance of Aries’ presence in his space. 

“You, I hope.” Caius couldn’t hold back the incredulous laugh at the answer but he didn’t expect his stomach to swoop in the face of Aries’ laughing, teasing smile. “And I’ve never much cared for the upper echelon, their constant abuse of power, and their mistreatment and manipulation of those around them.” Now that was something Caius could agree with, though the words were almost a little too perfect. He looked up to say as much but as he met Aries’ eyes he saw a flicker of something there; a buried history and a vendetta that he assumed may not be entirely different from his own. There was a certain comfort that washed over him, the comfort of camaraderie and of knowing that perhaps someone else saw the world painted in the same color he’d seen for so many years. 

He hesitated, weighing his options, turning his observations around in his head like an astrolabe, and picking apart every detail for some kind of flaw. 

As the silence stretched he stalked to his desk and grasped his quill between his fingers before dunking it in the dirtied inkwell with perhaps too much force. His hand formed elegant script across the parchment, painting an agreement and a deadly promise across the page. As he scratched the final detail - his own signature - he plucked a dagger from the desk and in one swift movement pressed the tip to the pad of his thumb. A large bead of blood seeped from the wound and Caius promptly pressed it against the yellowed page, nestled just beside his name. 

“Should you ever betray my trust or intentionally place me or these ruins in danger, I will hunt you down and you will wish you’d received the same end as Sir Reinald.” 

Caius held his breath as Aries marched forward, eyes carefully reading over the page (and it struck him as odd that someone that took to illegal brawling in the streets could read, and so quickly at that) before he grasped the quill and signed his own name - Aries Candensford. He pressed his thumb to the tip of the dagger that was still clenched in Caius’s hand, and sealed the promise with his blood. 

“You have my word, Caius Rexmenura, should I ever betray your trust I will kneel before your blade and pay your toll.” His words were spoken with so much conviction and delivered with such an assured smile that it had Caius’ throat bobbing with the force of his swallow. 

“Then a pact has been made. Welcome to the Underworld, Aries.” He sighed, tucking the papers in a drawer that was quickly locked with a small key which he wasted no time hiding within his palm. 

“Perhaps we should get reacquainted - We’ll be working closely together from now on, after all.” The flirtatious words didn’t feel like caustic oil over his skin. No, in fact, Caius felt a smile tug at the edge of his lips as he stood and stalked his way through the room, chasing Aries’ retreating steps until the brawler sat gracelessly on the edge of his cot. 

“Now there’s an idea.” 

[dalekofchaos]

Mortal Kombat Koncept: Ashrah by Jack Meng Kirkman

When Ashrah awoke in the darkest abyss of the Nether after surviving a deadly fall, she heard a beautiful song echoing through the ether. This was unlike anything she had heard in the Netherrealm and she was drawn to it. Ashrah waded through the shadow to the sound and found a blade wrapped in white cloth. She unravelled it to find an ancient Kris blade. She took the blade and searched for a way out of the abyss. She noticed, as she searched, that the Kris guided her, a gentle muse playing in her head when she walked the right path. She escaped the abyss, but was immediately ambushed by demon scavengers, with the aid of her new blade, Ashrah slew them. After the bloodshed had ended, Ashrah did not feel tired or drained. In fact, she felt revitalised. She had noticed it during the fight as well. Each demon slain with the Kris seemed to empower her, as if the taint of the Netherrealm was washing itself from her. Wishing to flee the Netherrealm, from the Brotherhood, assassins, and the vile demons that plagued the lands, Ashrah devised a theory; that if she could purify her soul with the blood of demons, the Netherrealm would reject her being there and she would be cast out the realms above. Ashrah went on a rampaging killing spree throughout the Netherrealm, with each kill the Kris' song grew louder and spurred her on. Then, Lord Shinnok returned. The realms could not remain quiet about his coming and the Kris was quiet. Ashrah still felt loyalty to Shinnok, but now, she had slain many of his allies. She would surely be punished severely, not to mention Quan Chi would sully her name. Ashrah could feel her soul was nearly purified. She had to try, even the with the silence of the Kris. She continued killing demons until one day, after a fresh kill, Shinnok appeared out of the shadows. The two fought, but Ashrah was no match for the fallen Elder God. Shinnok stood over Ashrah and claimed that she was not worthy to die from his weapons. He picked up her Kris and to Ashrah's surprise, was stunned by some strange force. The Kris began to sing again. Ashrah took her opportunity, jumped up and grabbed the Kris from Shinnok and kicked him in the chest, knocking him down. She moved swiftly toward him, Kris in hand, but at that moment, a bright light shone down upon her and she was lifted off the ground. Then in a flash of light, she was transported to the world above. Her defiance against Shinnok was enough to purify her soul completely. She revelled in her victory and her escape from the Netherrealm, but her excitement quickly turned to dread, as she realised Shinnok had returned. The realms were in danger. Ashrah wanted to warn people, but the Kris now spoke to her through the music. It told her that she was to become a champion of light, that she alone must hunt down the demons that pledge themselves with Shinnok. This was her duty and her duty alone. As a champion, the Elder Gods themselves could have use for her. Confused and lost in this new world, Ashrah knew only one truth. The Kris had shown her the light in the abyss. The Kris had been the instrument of her liberation from the Netherrealm. The Kris had stunned the great Shinnok himself. Her truth was the song of the Kris. In Mortal Kombat 11: Ashrah tracked Ermac to the Pit on Shang Tsung's Island, believing him to be a demon. Though Ermac protested to this assumption, Ashrah and the Kris could sense many demon souls trapped within Ermac. Ashrah bested Ermac in Mortal Kombat and sent him plummeting to his death. Ashrah grabbed one of the magic lanterns that held eternal fire from the Pit and journeyed below to Ermac's body. Just before reaching the body, she spotted an interloper with what looked like Shao Kahn's hammer on his back. She observed him from the shadows. The interloper grabbed Ermac's amulet and left. He had not taken what she had come for. After the interloper was long out of sight, Ashrah moved to the body. She let out the flame from the lantern and drew the souls of Ermac into it, trapping them to be used as a weapon. The immense power surged through the lantern and clawed at Ashrah, the souls screaming to escape, they tore up Ashrah’s arm, she wailed in pain as she slammed the lantern shut. After she had recovered, she noticed that the souls had torn her humanoid visage from her arm, leaving her demonic form exposed, though marred with green soul magic. Ashrah was horrified by the sight at first, but the music of the Kris calmed her. Upon leaving the Krypt, the Kris called out once more. It told Ashrah that a powerful Netherrealm denizen was here on the island, deep below, protecting something important. His name was once Bi Han, now known as Noob Saibot. Empowered by Ermac's many souls, she will find and kill Noob Saibot and perhaps, see what he is protecting...

[goldammerchen]

Harvest

Summary: There’s better places to wake up; this time Gil found himself in one of the worst. Warnings: Gore, Death: Mature-Explicit fanfiction.

Snow falling on his face made him wake up. When opening his eyes, the first thing Gilbert saw were his hands in fingerless gloves, semi covered in snow powder. He got up from the snow, wiping off the rest from his gloves and unaffiliated long dark coat. As soon as he straightened his head, he noticed a full-length mirror in front of him, standing in the middle of the white nothingness.

He walked towards it.

The mirror had an umber colored frame, and the glass was in perfect state. At close inspection, Gilbert recognized his face more pale than the usual, not blushed despite of the cold. More alarming, a fresh blood stain covered his whole midriff. He unbuttoned his coat, opening it with both hands. His skin and muscle was missing, showing his white ribs over his beating heart and lungs hanging over... Nothing. His spine was visible, as well it was his hips pocking over his pants.

Crack.

Looking down, he saw clean ice cracking under his feet, over a pitch-black lake, that he could swear was not there before.

He felt—

Gilbert woke up again, water covering his nose and mouth. With his legs, he pushed to move his head above the reddish looking waters of the bathtub he found himself in. Gasping for air, horrible shaking dominated his whole cold body, making his teeth chatter. He was naked, ice cubes covering his torso.

His left hand was hanging off the tub. This can't be happening, he hoped, slapping his face with an open palm.

Nothing around him changed; he did not wake up once again.

He grunted and whined, cursing under his breath. Observing around him, he decided to inspect his body for last. The unknown bathroom was perfectly clean, smelling like chlorine: the responsible cleaned after themselves. To his right, a paper note was taped to the wall. Gilbert snatched it, putting it close to his face, trying to be as motionless as he could, his heart pounding in his ears.

Printed with red ink, it said:

"You should be proud, a freak of nature like you is being useful."

He stared at the note, his hand still trembling, then dropped the note to the ceramic floor, closing his hand in a loose fist. A millionaire bastard "altruist" little project? They could get organs in legal, not so legal, and straight up illegal ways, so it was unlikely the organs were for themselves. Unless, the people behind this were after immortality, jealous of people like Gilbert...

Well...

With both hands, he began to examine his body, starting from his chest. While it seemed he still had both of his lungs by the lack of incisions under his nipples, a just after where his ribs ended, he found staples in the middle and at both sides: Liver, of course. But the middle surgery cut went further of the navel, nearly going lower into his pubic mound.

Enough: he removed both his hands out the cold water, hanging his left outside again, while he had trouble to rest his right, having no strength to keep it on the tub frame, next to the wall. It slipped inside again, back to the cold.

Not just his liver—all or part of it, no way to know—that wasn't enough, likely a kidney (or both), pancreas, intestines... Greedy motherfuckers.

Gilbert snickered, sending his pain receptors on his upper body haywire. His face contorted, his expression fixing on a sneer, closing his eyes. They were going to find a putrid murky pool of rotting biowaste instead of healthy ready-to-be-transplanted organs, time claiming what it's hers when she can. Yes, he was going to die for nothing, his missing organs will not grow back, and nobody will receive them. If a poor bastard it's out there waiting to new functional vital body pairs, they will die as well. Hopefully, whoever wanted this is experimenting on themselves, not forcing innocents to be their guinea pigs.

He opened his eyes. If they did harm to his little brother, he, he... He couldn't do anything from there, nothing at all, literal dead weight. His ending was imminent, Death was tapping with impatience his clock, not caring if Gilbert needed more time to weep in silence.

No, not yet.

The last thing Gilbert wanted was to die in water, the opposite of dying beautiful, water interfering with the process in ugly, uglier ways than the terrestrial usual. He should get out of the bathtub, yes, he definitely should, while still doable. He will do, after closing his eyes just for a little while...

Note: Tod, Death, Masculine; Zeit, Time, Feminine.

[solasan]

mollie please i am begging on my hands and knees for some sivala thoughts …. some ideas … 👉👈😳

im gonna combine these for organisation purposes but thank u @montliyets I Love You and i am kissing u on the head 🥰 🥰 🥰

🥺 omg sophie aaaa thank u for askin, i have many sivala Thots take them all <333

born on chandrila to 2 very loving parents who, because of the enforced low birth rate on the planet, were Super Not Down with letting the jedi have her; she was three when she was brought to coruscant (a little bit on the older side for a jedi youngling), so she remembers them in bits and pieces, but not super well.

that does mean her early years in the temple were uhhh...... tumultuous. she didn’t really want to be there and she made that Very Clear lmao. probably very nearly did get returned to her parents bc of all the trouble she caused, but she eventually settled in (with some guidance from her eventual master, yasta kivallo).

she matured into a very considerate and intelligent jedi knight. became a consular, rather than a guardian, bc of her skills in observation and persuasion; she’s probably one of the best negotiators the jedi order have, except for obi-wan himself. if things had been different, she might’ve ended up in the senate, ironically.

a few years after tpm, sivala took on a padawan; vuren passik, a rutian twi’lek. he actually becomes a knight a few months into the clone wars bc the jedi are desperate for fighters, and his death in the temple during order 66 is one of the biggest tragedies to shape sivala.

(another one being yasta’s death during the battle of felucia </3. siv loses everyone lmao).

her and obi-wan fight side by side quite a bit during the war; by rots they consider each other friends rather than just allies, and he rly helps her with her grief over yasta, since he knows what it’s like to lose a master. they’re both very skilled negotiators and they work very well together (after an adjustment period, they quickly get on the same wavelength in those kinds of settings), so they get pretty used to working together off the battlefield as well as on.

he kind of assumes she’s dead after order 66 (since she very nearly was) and although she knew he survived the initial massacre bc of the message sent out to the jedi, the years pass without even a whisper of him, and she just kind of... figures he must’ve been killed at some point?

and yknow. the force has gone quiet. she felt her padawan die. hundreds of souls screaming out, suddenly silenced. all that. so she goes on the run and grieves grieves grieves. puts her lightsaber away somewhere hidden and safe and swears she’ll never pick it back up again. (she can’t quite bring herself to throw it into a black hole, but she thinks abt it sometimes).

through a series of very convoluted events ive only like. half figured out. she ends up working to smuggle jedi and force-sensitives away from the empire and settles on daiyu to work especially closely with haja estree. they piss each other off a lot. it’s a riot. 

um and then yeah :) her n obi-wan have a whole huge i’m not alone anymore moment n just kinda. end up rly relying on each other. i dont think they get to see each other often (something tells me 1 powerful jedi + another powerful jedi = big energy in the force for the inquisitors to look out for) but when they do they r very soft and tired and in love sjdjjksdjk.

(she uh. does die protecting a force-sensitive kid in her charge from inquisitors a couple years before anh, but i dont want to think abt that rn so 😌)

if u read this far thank u i love u mwah

[ventismommy]

“Pets”

baal/Venti/Zhongli smut

warnings: overstim, edging, degradation, inappropriate use of visions, dom!baal

Venti was the first to stir awake, his vision hazy. The bonds of Electro around his wrists tingled against his pale skin, making him let out a small sound of discomfort that echoed in the silent room.

Zhongli awoke not long after, a deep groan escaping him as he realized he was in the same position as Venti- wrists bound, clothes torn and skin bruised, kneeling before…a throne?

Each of them realized their surroundings as they looked up.

Before them was an elaborate amethyst and yumemiru wood throne, backed by intricate screens covering the walls, all displaying the Electro sigil. And on the throne rested the Empress of Eternity, the Raiden Shogun herself.

Baal.

The expression on her face was nigh unreadable, but her posture was as unbothered as ever, legs crossed nonchalantly and her head resting in her hand as she leaned on one arm of the throne. Her guards were nowhere to be seen, but even without them, her presence was intimidating.

“So…the impotent gods themselves. It’s been a while. Barbatos, Morax.”

Zhongli’s low voice was the first to speak back. “I must say, Baal, this seems quite like a threat. Hardly polite behavior when addressing another archon-“

“Hush. You have no Gnosis, either of you. I see no archons before me. Only two fallen gods who failed to keep their reign intact.”

She stood gracefully, heels clicking against the wooden floor as she approached them. As she walked past, she gripped Venti’s hair and pulled harshly, forcing him to look back at her. The sudden movement forced a yelp from the bard.

“You have been silent, Barbatos…perhaps you suspect already why you have been brought here?”

“I-I-“ Venti’s usual snarky response refused to come, and even his stuttering was cut off by another high-pitched sound as she yanked his hair again. With a few steps she was in front of him, and she crouched to meet his eyes. Her half-gloved hand reached out to grab his chin, turning his face side to side before forcing him to face her again. He met her eyes for just a moment, but already she could see fear being replaced by…excitement? What a pathetic little masochist, she thought as she stood up abruptly, releasing his jaw.

“I will tell you why you have been brought here. So I may offer you a choice.”

“Your precious Traveler has been defeated. And yet again, you have failed to end my reign. It is only a matter of time before Inazuma reigns eternal not just over these islands, but over Mondstadt and Liyue as well. Of course, I will not offer you a place as my equal, but…even gods get lonely over the expanse of eternity. So I offer you this. Fight against me and lose, sentencing your kingdoms to destruction. Or…take your place kneeling by my throne, enjoy a life of comfort, and…your kingdoms shall be safe under my rule.”

Both were silent in response- and Baal was not having that. She glared at them.

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear. You either die fighting for regions who will be decimated the moment I strike you down, or you protect your homes and become, well…”

“Pets.”

Zhongli froze instantly, but Venti was still so hazy that it took him a moment to process. When he did, he went silent with shock, staring at Baal in that same mix of fear and excitement. She narrowed her eyes. Obviously Morax would be harder to break…

“You are not convinced? Hmm. Well…perhaps I may have to put in some extra work.”

Baal rose to her feet and approached Venti, gripping his hair again- though, gentler this time than before. Her hand moved down to caress his cheek, and a barely audible whine escaped his throat. She knelt in front of him, meeting his eyes steadily.

“You’ll be a good pet, yes?”

Venti hesitated for only a moment before nodding fervently, leaning into her hand. Her hand was just so soft…he was doing this to save Mondstadt, right?

Right?

She half-sneered at him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him forward by it, towards her throne. He stumbled, unable to crawl properly with his hands bound, but he certainly tried his best to make it to the throne. When Baal finally settled into her seat, she smiled at him and freed his hands from the electro bonds. “Good boy,” she cooed with a condescending leer. “Up onto my lap now.”

Venti scrambled to obey, crawling up into her plush lap, but she clicked her tongue at him. “Other way, pet. Face Morax, will you?” He nodded again and turned, hesitantly meeting Zhongli’s eyes. The expression in them was a mixture of shock and disgust at how easily Venti had broken, but somehow the disgust just spurred him on.

Baal’s arms wrapped around Venti’s waist to begin undoing the buttons of his shirt. She left it on once she was done, hanging open on the anemo archon’s small frame, and let him shift his hips up so she could tug off his shorts and tights. He scrambled to do so, and when he was finally bare besides his shirt, he had to hold back an impatient whine, trying to sneakily grind his cock against the arm around his waist. Baal just chuckled at him, moving her arm away just to hear his desperate whine as he thrusted his hips into air. “Aren’t you a needy little thing, hmm?”

The words were pouring out before Venti could stop himself. “Yes, y-yes I am, pl-lease-“

Baal hushed him, grabbing his chin with one hand to make sure his face stayed turned towards Zhongli. She spat on her other hand before wrapping it around his cock. The first noise that came from Venti was a sigh of pleasure and relief, but his whole body immediately stiffened up and he keened when he felt a tiny current of electro roll through his skin. “O-oh!” He choked out in surprise, bucking his hips

up towards her hand for more of that sensation. She obliged him, the currents getting stronger as his moans rose in pitch. Venti could barely keep his eyes open to look at Zhongli, but when he did, he was surprised to see a flash of excitement in Zhongli’s eyes, one that the geo archon quickly hid behind disgust.

“Look at him, Morax. Isn’t he a pathetic little darling? Doesn’t he fit into his role of pet so well?”

She paused for a moment to cover Venti’s neck and shoulders in bites and kisses.

“I wonder how long it will take you to break too.”

Venti’s small frame shuddered and jolted with each current she sent through him, and eventually one of his hands reached back to grip Baal’s thigh for support, his nails digging in slightly. “Ha-ah, oh, o-oh that feels g-good-“ he whimpered, the condescending chuckle that Baal responded with only making him squirm even more.

Then a particularly strong current came from her hand, and there he was, stiffening up with a shudder and coming.

Baal stopped for a moment in surprise, but quickly regained her momentum. “Awww, was that too much? Too much for your pathetic little cock?” Venti squirmed and shook his head no quite insistently, giving a few embarrassed whines. “N-n-o, I can t-take mo-ore, ‘m not pa-pathetic-“

“Oh, yes you are, and I love it.”

She gave him no warning before she started up again, the currents even stronger this time. Venti yelped and thrusted up into her hand, hips struggling her loose grip, but she gave a rather tame slap to his thigh, and he settled down quickly enough. “‘m sorry, ‘m s-so-orry-“ he hiccuped, starting to tear up with sensitivity. She shushed him, though her tone was slightly gentler. “That’s alright, pet, would you like me to slow down?” Venti immediately shook his head no, trembling in her lap. More tears started rolling down his cheeks at the thought of her stopping now.

“Nononono pleas-se, don’t stop!” He cried, his nails digging in further into the flesh of Baal’s thigh. “Want m-more, more, ple-please?”

Baal hummed in agreement, but rather than speed up her pace, she shifted the way he sat on her lap, nudging his legs apart until each one rested on an arm of the throne. Venti’s moans carried a hint of confusion now, but then Baal took the hand that wasn’t around his cock and ran her fingers over his tip, collecting the precum there.

And then, those two fingers slid down to circle his hole, and Venti nearly threw his head back in pleasure when the first finger slipped inside of him.

Baal had completely taken his breath away now, starting to curl her fingers in that oh-so-perfect way once she’d added a second finger. Despite making it clear that she was in control, she was gentle with him, so gentle Venti could fool himself that she cared.

She did, of course, but he didn’t need to know that just yet.

She was careful to observe his actions, desperate and lewd as they might be. He wasn’t attempting to rock back against her fingers yet, so she assumed the stretch must still burn a bit. Baal decided slowing her pace a bit may help, but then the tiny god’s hand reached down to wrap tightly around her wrist, as if to say, “no, keep going!” She wouldn’t deny him that when he’d been so good for her so far, so she didn’t slow too much.

It was another moment before Venti started moving against her hand and she decided that meant he was alright. He was full-on crying in pleasure now; poor thing was completely overwhelmed, and Baal tried to keep that in mind when she curled her fingers gently into that perfect spot inside of him. He jerked up in her lap with a high-pitched whimper at that, babbling incoherent nonsense that occasionally included her name. She shushed him soothingly, placing tender kisses against his pale throat, but didn’t slow, wanting to push him to that edge again. Venti started to double over as if trying to hide his coming climax, but she caught him, moving her hand away from his cock momentarily to press him back against her chest. Too fucked-out to struggle against that, he slumped against her as she returned her hand to his cock, her fingers still working inside of him.

“So, pet…how do you feel about my proposal now? Have I managed to convince you?”

“Yesyesyesy-yes, wanna be y-yours, please, j-just- just- just let me cu-cum, please-“

Baal chuckled, directing a wolfish smile towards Zhongli for a moment. “Go on then, darling, you can cum.”

Venti tensed up with a string of “thankyou-“s falling from his lips. His thighs shook as he came again.

Venti’s exhausted body went limp, and Baal kissed his forehead, shifting him to the side of her lap so he could curl up against her chest. “Good boy,” she cooed at him, stroking his hair as she carefully pulled her fingers out of him.

Then, as Venti was starting to drift off in her lap, she turned to Zhongli. “Your turn, Rex Lapis,” she said, somehow managing to make the title sound so utterly disrespectful. She tapped the ground with her foot.

“Here, boy.”

Zhongli scoffed at her at first, not moving an inch. But then she snapped her fingers and a band of electro wrapped around his neck like a collar. She made a come-hither motion and the collar tugged him forward. “I said, here, boy.”

Zhongli reluctantly obeyed, unable to deny that being treated like a lapdog made his core tighten. He crawled over to her foot, looking up at her. Her hand reached down as if she were a gracious goddess, bestowing a gift, and she brushed his hair out of his face before tugging on it.

“You see, Morax, Barbatos was a good boy, and he was rewarded for it. Only good boys get rewards, only good boys get their mistress’s hand. And you have not quite met my standards. So.”

She outstretched her leg towards him, never freeing him from the electro bonds the way she had with Venti. “Go on, brat. Get off on my leg like the dog you are.”

Zhongli gave a whine of protest, wanting more than her leg, but her quick glare silenced him as she turned back to Venti, whose face she covered in kisses.

He scooted forward and settled himself in front of her leg, face burning in humiliation, and started to grind slowly against it. The first moan that came from him was almost shocked, as if he couldn’t believe something like this would feel so, so good. Even his next few moans were choked as he started rutting against her leg a little faster, turning his face to hide it in the inside of her leg. His eyes rolled back in his head when she tugged him out by the hair, forcing him to look at her. Baal tsked disapprovingly at him.

“Oh no no, that will never do. You will look at your mistress so she can watch that stubborn, bratty face melt. Now. Continue. A little faster, if you think you can handle it; perhaps if you’re a good boy I’ll let you sit on my lap and ride my thigh instead.”

That was incentive enough for Zhongli, who picked up his pace with a whimper, holding eye contact with Baal the entire time. He almost wanted to cry in shame when he, still looking her in the eyes, started to pant like a dog, overwhelmed from how good it felt. But she just cooed at him and ruffled his hair. “Awww, there we go, see? Isn’t it nice to give up control, Morax? Doesn’t it feel good?”

He nodded with a whine that was significantly lower in pitch than Venti’s, but no less adorable.

“Words, pet.”

“Y-yes mistress, ‘t feels s-s-so good, f-feels- a-ah, hah!”

She smiled graciously at his answer, and then gestured for him to come sit up on her lap, next to Venti, who was slowly stirring awake again. Immediately, Zhongli obeyed, starting to grind on her soft thigh and letting out a moan.

“Think you can be a good boy for me?” She asked him, her tone almost bored.

“Ye-es, I c-can, I promi-ise-“

“Good.”

Baal shifted Venti in her lap slightly so Zhongli would have room. Venti gave a confused whine, but she soothed him with a kiss to his forehead.

“Now, here are the rules. You go on and strip for me, Morax-“ before she even finished that sentence, Zhongli was up and pulling off his clothes, tossing them to the side and settling back on her lap.

“-good pet- now, you sit here on my lap, and I’ll let you use my hand. But don’t you even think about cumming until I tell you to. Understood?”

Zhongli nodded quickly, a grateful moan catching in his throat as Baal started to stroke his cock. It took less than a few moments to have his head falling forward, his breath short and heavy. He squirmed as if trying to get away from her hand and get more of her at the same time, and she sneered. “What? You think you deserve what I gave Barbatos?”

Zhongli shook his head. “N-no, I d-don’t, but-but- p-please- I want-“

His sentence was cut off by a breathless cry as she sent those same electric currents she’d used on Venti through him as well. Now he understood why Venti had gone half insane over this- oh, it felt so good, slightly painful but good. His hands shot out to grip her shoulders tightly. When he realized what he was doing, he looked up at her with a panicked expression, but she nodded. “That’s alright, you can hold on.” He whimpered out his thanks as his hips started to jerk in her grip, trembling as the currents grew stronger. Oh, he was so close, and-

Fuck. He’d forgotten her rule.

He looked up at her again, this time more pleading. When she didn’t seem to notice, he pawed at her shoulder. “P-Please, mistress, please, c-c-ah- can I c-cum- I need- I n-need to, ah-“

Baal met his eyes with a bored expression. “Do you think you deserve it? Do you think you’ve been good enough for me?”

“Yes, Ye-es, I’ve been g-good, please!”

“Hmm. Why don’t we ask Barbatos.”

Baal turned to Venti with a soft smile, petting his head. “Do you think we should let him cum, darling?”

Venti met his eyes for a moment long enough to leave Zhongli panicking. Then he nodded weakly, and Zhongli sobbed in relief.

“Go on then, Rex Lapis.”

Zhongli completely collapsed as he came. While the electro currents worked him through that climax, he folded into himself, sobbing in pleasure. Baal petted his hair like she had Venti’s, comforting him as he came down.

“Good boy, Morax~”

Baal opened her arms for him and Zhongli shifted to mimic the way Venti was sitting, curling up against Baal as he caught his breath. He had to admit, this was…nice. Being a pet hadn’t sounded good at first, but if this was what he got out of it…

“I must say, I’m quite excited to have two new pets…”

[the-bau-quinjet]

hiii! i don’t know if you have done this but can you do a hotch x reader where they get kidnapped by tobias instead of reid? xx

4 Months

Warning: Criminal Minds level violence, drugs, torture, rabid dogs

Word Count: 3562

a/n: I decided to switch up some of the specifics, just to make it a bit more fun to read. I hope you like it :) Also, we're pretending Rossi was there bc he is really the father of the group and it fit better than having Gideon 🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

"JJ, we have to split up." You barely looked back at her, missing the nervous expression on her face as you ran toward the cornfield. "I'll take the field, you take the barn."

You slowed to a brisk walk as you neared the cornfield, raising your gun in front of you. You couldn't help but think about how pissed Hotch would be if he knew what you were doing.

You shook off the thought, knowing he would do the same if the roles were reversed.

Spotting movement, you moved farther into the corn, trying to spot any signs indicating which way Tobias went. A bent corn husk was the last thing you saw before the world went black.

-

"He's not a witness. He's the unsub." Hotch's eyes went wide as he realized you and JJ were there without backup. "Call JJ, now." He instructed Morgan, taking out his own phone to call you.

Hotch's eyes met Morgan's as both calls went unanswered. No words were exchanged as everyone ran out to the SUVS, putting on bulletproof vests as they went.

Hotch was nervously tapping the steering wheel the entire drive to Hankel's house. He couldn't stop replaying your last conversation.

"Y/N, you and JJ go talk to Hankel. Find out if he saw anything." Despite his stern expression, you could tell his eyes were smiling at you.

"Sure thing." You nodded, mouthing 'I love you' before turning to JJ.

That's it. He didn't even have the chance to mouth it back. JJ would've seen, and even though the team has theories about your relationship, you haven't confirmed anything yet.

He pulled into the driveway, running up to the house, gun out before anyone could stop him.

Prentiss followed Hotch, Morgan and Reid took the left, Rossi and a local cop took the right.

They tore through the house, clearing it with fierce determination, but came up empty.

"It's clear." Rossi called, joining Hotch and Prentiss in the living room. "Where are Morgan and Reid?"

Hotch spared a glance out the window, discovering the barn likely being cleared by the missing agents.

Everyone ran out of the house, arriving outside the barn just as Morgan and Reid lead a distressed JJ outside.

"What happened?" Hotch questioned, glancing over JJ's shoulder into the barn. Clearly you weren't there, but he needed to hope.

"We split up. Y/N went into the cornfield... I had- I had to shoot them." Her voice was detached, eyes glazed over.

"The dogs." Morgan clarified, leading JJ to a paramedic.

"Dammit. The house is clear. No sign of Y/N or Hankel." Hotch ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his mind. The worry was nearly overpowering, but it wouldn't help find you.

The sheriff approached, removing his hat. "A deputy two towns over gave directions to a man matching Hankel's description. He's headed for a hunting lodge."

Morgan nodded to Prentiss. "We'll check it out."

-

Your head was pounding. A vile scent reached your nose, causing your eyes to flicker open. You flinched at the closeness of the man in front of you.

"Tobias..." The name slipped out in a whisper.

"They're not here. It's just me now." He stated, calmer than you would've expected.

"Who are you?" You asked, trying to portray a fake sense of calm.

"I'm Rafael." He pulled out a revolver, adding a single bullet to the six chambers.

"No. You don't have to do this." Your heart ached, fear gripping your body as he aimed the gun at you.

"It is my duty to enact God's will." He said, right before pulling the trigger.

-

Hotch pulled back into the driveway, leading Garcia into the house.

"His computer setup is in there. If there's even a hint of where they might've gone, I need you to find it." Hotch gestured to the back room.

Penelope nodded. Carrying her own computer bags, she followed Derek into the depths of the house.

"What've we got?" Hotch questioned those remaining around the table.

"He knew he could throw us off, pretend to be looking for a hunting lodge." Emily spoke quickly.

"We've got piles of information, journals, notebooks. We're still sifting through it all." JJ added, shirt still bloody from yesterday.

Just then, Reid rushed in from another room. "The walls in the bedroom, they are covered in the latin phrase 'honora patrem tuum', honor thy father."

"Garcia, look for anything you can find about his father." Hotch gave out orders, but his focus was elsewhere. What was happening to you?

"Over here!" Morgan called from outside.

The team ran around the house to see Morgan opening a cellar door. Nodding slightly, Hotch and Morgan made there way inside.

"Tobias Hankel, FBI." Morgan shouted, receiving no answer.

They quickly found the dead body of none other than Hankel's father. Even the new information did little to calm the worry brewing inside of Hotch.

-

"Confess your sins." He ordered.

"My sins? I don't have any sins." You did your best to hold back the tears, trying to figure out who you were talking to.

"Everyone has sins. Confess, and you will be forgiven." He stared you down, waiting for a response.

You simply shook your head, mouth slightly agape. The smell was getting to you. You couldn't think straight with the pain in your head.

"I- I don't know what-"

"YES YOU DO. CONFESS." He hit you, whipping your head to the left.

-

"Hotch, he took drugs to escape. Dilaudid cut with a psychedelic." Emily relayed the information her and JJ got from Tobias's sponsor.

"We've got something too. The dates in his journals don't add up. He was talking about his father as if he was alive months after he killed him."

"His father beat him, preached about sin." Emily replied, putting the pieces together alongside Hotch.

"Split personality. Profile the father. He could be the key to finding Y/N." Even just saying your name he felt his heart clench.

-

"Who are you?" You questioned him as soon as he walked through the door, trying to figure out who you were dealing with this time.

"Tobias." He moved about the cabin almost nervously.

"Who was here before?" You knew Rafael, but the other personality was a mystery.

"My father." Definitely the most violent. He was who you had to look out for. "I'm sorry if he hurt you."

Tobias looked over you newly forming bruises before pulling off his belt.

"No. No what are you doing?" You felt your heart rate increase as he wrapped the belt around your arm. You could barely register the words he was saying, something about escaping from the pain.

"Please. I don't want it. I'm fine." You begged, tears brimming your eyes. He ignored your pleas, injecting the drug into your bloodstream.

Despite how much you hated it, you felt the relief he was talking about. The pain was gone, even if just briefly. You thought about your time spent with Hotch. It didn't feel like long enough. You wanted more. You had so much you wanted to do with him.

"Aaron..." You mumbled his name between kisses. "They could see us." You did little to stop him, despite your words.

"We should tell them." He whispered against your mouth, holding you close. "They would be happy for us."

You sighed blissfully, forehead pressed against his. "Really? You know they've got a pool going to see when we'd finally get together. Who do you think had money on 4 months ago?" You laughed into his neck, pulling him closer.

"My bet's on Rossi. He knows us both too well." Aaron smiled, a full genuine smile.

"You're probably right, but just to make it interesting, I'm betting Reid. He's too observant not to have noticed." You squinted at the window, knowing Reid was staring at the closed blinds on the other side.

That earned a laugh, one you could feel in his chest pressed tightly to your own.

"I love you." He kissed your head, content to hold you for a little while longer.

"I love you too." You leaned ever farther into him. "We can tell them when we get back from this next case."

"Deal."

-

"Get in here!" Reid called from the computer room, pointing to a screen where you were being broadcast. You were handcuffed and tied to a chair, clearly beaten.

"Pick one to die." The voice of Tobias could be heard, despite him not being visible on the screen.

You shook your head, staring into the camera. You wanted to plead for Hotch to save you, but you knew it wouldn't be fair. He didn't need that on his conscience.

"Choose one, and I will free another."

You shook your head again, trying to think of a clue you could give the team. "I won't let you hunt them like a poacher."

"Now. Or I will kill them all." He threatened, lifting you from the ground.

"I'll pick who lives." You stuttered, breaths coming fast and short. "The right screen."

You were forced to watch as he turned off the camera, leaving the screens to show the heinous murders he was about to commit.

Suddenly, Rossi was talking to you through the screen. The sight of him nearly brought you to tears.

"Y/N. This isn't your fault. None of it. You can't blame yourself. We will find you, but I need you to be there when we do."

You knew exactly what he meant. You were already blaming yourself, despite Rossi's father like relationship with you, it was hard to believe him.

It did give you the strength to remember the team though. You needed to see them, all of them, again.

-

"He's back!" Morgan called everyone in to view the screens again.

"Confess your sins." They watched as he beat you.

You cried. You begged him to stop. You begged Tobias for help, but nothing worked.

Hotch felt his heart break even more with every word.

Suddenly, you were on the ground, still tied to the chair. You were seizing, Charles Hankel watching as it happened.

The screen went dark, causing Hotch to punch the desk.

"Dammit." He shouted. He didn't care if his worry was beginning to poke through the surface. He needed to find you and he needed to do it now.

"The timestamp." Emily's voice drew him out of his head. "There's only a few minutes between the time of death and when it was posted. He's got to be close to the crime scene."

Finally. Something that felt like progress.

-

They watched the screen as you appeared again.

"Choose one to die." It was Rafael this time.

"I can't. I can't do it." Your face betrayed every emotion you were feeling inside.

"Pick one." He stated again.

"Me. Kill me." You nearly begged.

"You said you weren't one of them. Your team has 7 other members. Choose one of them to die."

You shook your head, fear gripping you once again as he pulled out the revolver.

"Choose." He connected the gone to your forehead, resting it there.

"No." He pulled the trigger, watching as you flinched.

"Choose." You shook your head, tensing as he pulled the trigger again.

Hotch felt his heart in his stomach, internally begging you to just say a name. He couldn't watch you die, not like this.

"Choose." He pulled the trigger yet again at your silence.

"I won't do it." You held firm, knowing you had limited chances.

"Choose one to die."

You opened your mouth, panting as an idea came to you.

"I choose... Aaron Hotchner." Your heart ached even saying it, but you needed to give him a clue. "He's a classic narcissist. Thinks he's better than everyone. He'd go to his grave knowing he was wrong." You winced internally, trying not to give away your plan.

Hotch left the room, trying to understand your words. The two of you had just argued about the definition of classic narcissism.

"I think you're wrong." You laughed at his amused expression.

"Yeah? Or do you just like making me exasperated?" He questioned your motives, pulling you closer as you laid in bed together.

"Maybe a little bit of both." You shrugged, leaning up to kiss him. "Promise me something?" You asked, a nervous expression on your face.

"What?" He looked at you with so much concern, you felt your heart beat a little faster.

"If... If I die, you can't blame yourself." He opened his mouth to protest, but you kept going. "I know you Aaron. You'd take it to grave thinking it was your fault. I can't let you do that. Not when I know you blame yourself for Haley's death." You felt your heart break for him and the pain he had been through. "Promise me." You were nearly begging.

"I promise." He whispered, his throat tight at the idea of losing you.

He was brought back to the present by the sound of Rossi's voice.

"Hotch, you know Y/N didn't mean any of that." Rossi tried gently, unsure of how Hotch was coping with your situation.

"I'm not a narcissist. What's my worst quality?" He looked at the apprehensive looks everyone was giving him. "I'll start, I have no sense of humor."

He nodded along as his team listed his faults.

"None of you said I ever put myself above the team, because I don't. Y/N and I just argued about the definition of classic narcissism." He paced, trying to put it together. "I'd take it to my grave... Grave was a hint."

"What? How do you know?" Reid shook his head, trying to understand the logic.

"I made a promise. It's a long story." He shook his head, trying to clear the memory so he could focus. "Y/N knew I would remember it."

"A cemetary. It's got to be a cemetary." Morgan added.

"No cemeteries on the map." Garcia was typing away on the computer.

"Like a poacher." Reid whispered, staring at the screen.

"Reid?" Hotch looked at him, eyes pleading for an answer.

"That's what Y/N said in the first video. 'I won't let you hunt them like a poacher.'" He said it louder, more excited than before.

"Garcia, any reports of poaching in the area?" Hotch asked, the idea of finding you causing hope to erupt in his chest.

"Yes, at Marshall Parrish... and there's a cemetery on the grounds." She gave them the address, watching as they ran out to the SUVs.

-

"I'm sorry." Tobias said it so softly, you were almost certain you didn't hear it at all.

"Wh- why?" Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, trying to make sense of it.

"He'll win. In the end, he always does." He rose from the crouched position, slowly injecting you with more drugs.

"Hotch!" You screamed, feeling arms restraining you from behind.

You watched as he went into the hostage situation, unarmed and without a vest.

"Derek. Let me go!" You struggled in his grasp, straining to get free.

"There's nothing you can do, he's already inside." He stated the truth, although it did little to calm your nerves.

You settled down, throat tight with worry. You bit your lip, eyes flitting between the door and windows. You just needed a sign, anything to say he was alright.

The sound of a gun firing stunned you. You were frozen in place, fear consuming you. You had just told him you loved him for the first time this morning. What if you never get to say it again? What if that's all the time you got.

You stared in horror as everyone ran toward the house, only to freeze when a voice shouted everything was fine.

"It's fine." He huffed, carrying the small child out of the house toward a waiting EMT. "Baxter is dead."

"Aaron..." You whispered the name, realizing how powerless you felt when he was in danger. The two of you made eye contact across the yard, a reassuring look in his eye.

"Aaron..." You whispered, blinking rapidly as you slowly came to.

"What about Aaron." Charles. Tobias's dad was back.

"I couldn't stop him. I couldn't keep him safe." You muttered to yourself, not fully understanding the situation.

"Is that a confession?" He asked, voice hard.

"Yes." It was more of a breath of air than a word, but it was all he needed to condemn you.

He unlocked your handcuffs, forcing a shovel into your newly freed arms before dragging you outside.

"Dig." he instructed plainly, watching over you as stray tears wet the ground beneath you.

-

"Clear." Morgan called from one side of the shed.

"Clear" Hotch replied from the other. With the whole team in the small space, it wasn't exactly necessary but it was habit.

Hotch could feel his nerves picking up again as he realized this meant you were still with Tobias. He paced back and forth, feeling powerless.

"Spread out. They have to be on foot." He left without waiting for a response, turning left with JJ to look for you.

-

You did your best to stall, but Charles wasn't the most patient.

"Dig faster."

"I'm trying. I'm trying." You whimpered, movements speeding up ever so slightly. The massive knife in his hands causing your own to shake.

"You're weak. Move." He huffed, throwing his jacket to the ground before ripping the shovel from your hands.

A flash of light in the trees caught your eye. Flashlights. Your team. Aaron.

Your eyes flickered between the man in front of you and the trees, causing him to turn.

You took the split second he wasn't looking to grab the gun from his jacket, swiftly aiming it as he turned back to you knife raised.

"Only one bullet in that gun." He lunged for you, falling backwards after you pulled the trigger.

You dropped the gun, quickly tossing the knife away.

"Tobias?" You cried, moving back toward him.

"You killed me." He seemed surprised, but grateful at the same time.

You felt the tears pouring down your face as you apologized.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry." You grabbed his hand, watching the light fade from his eyes as he asked one final question.

"You think I'll get to see my mom again?"

You barely registered the arms around you, pulling you to your feet. You couldn't take your eyes off of Tobias. He wasn't the one who hurt you. He helped you, or at least tried.

"I killed him." Your breathing picked up, vision blurring.

"Y/N, look at me." You turned to the voice, blinking rapidly to stop the tears.

"Aaron?" You took a stuttering breath, trying to make sure this was real.

"I'm here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe now." His words were just as reassuring to himself as they were to you. You caught JJ's eye over Hotch's shoulder, quickly moving to hug her.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I never should've-" You cut her off.

"None of this was your fault. It was my idea to split up. I'm so sorry." You cried into her shoulder, knowing how guilty she must've felt.

She hugged you back, tears brimming her own eyes at seeing you alive again.

She lead you to the EMT, not commenting on the look you threw over your shoulder at Aaron. He quickly followed you to the ambulance. JJ left you to talk to Hotch, who stayed beside you the entire time the medics looked you over.

"I didn't mean it." You said when you were finally alone, sitting between the open doors of the ambulance.

"What?" Aaron questioned, his mind not following your own train of thought.

"When... When I had to choose. I didn't mean any of it." You could feel the tears coming, but this time you did nothing to hold them back.

"I know. I knew the whole time." You brushed your tears away, looking you in the eye. "I love you so much." He whispered, his own eyes feeling watery.

"I love you too." You leaned into him, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you. You couldn't help but look over at the team, all of whom quickly pretended not to be watching. You huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, I think they're going to have some questions." Hotch smiled, glad to see you happy even if just for a second.

"After this case, right?" You looked back at him, confirming you still wanted to share your relationship with the team.

"Deal." He smiled, arm tightening around your shoulders to pull you closer.

-

You couldn't help but bring it up on the jet ride home.

"So, who had money on four months ago?" You questioned, tucked into Aaron's side on the couch.

"What?" Emily raised a brow at your sudden statement.

"That's when we started dating." You grinned at her shocked expression.

"Dammit Reid." Morgan huffed, handing over the money.

"Don't forget Rossi!" Reid high fived the older man, the two grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Looks like we were both right." Hotch smiled into your hair, trying to hide his laugh.

"Yeah. We make a pretty good team." You smiled, leaning into his touch.

"I love you." He murmured, face still in your hair. You turned your face into his chest before responding.

"I love you too."

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan

[cheelduh]

How to get Hit-listed by a Stonehide Lawachurl (High School AU!)

Part 6 of the highschool au

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Synopsis: Childe’s a menace to everyone when playing dodgeball. Even as his new girlfriend, you’re no exception to his affinity for raising hell during the most tranquil of circumstances.

Warnings: Swearing, bad humor, and absolutely horrid spelling mistakes.

Words: 5.3k

Note: Longest chapter yet sheeeesh 🗿

Negotiation is an art.

Childe, or "Tartaglia" has utilized the art of negotiations in his daily life. Whether that be scamming the ninth graders with fake weed, or convincing the teachers why he doesn't deserve detention for injecting random fluids from the chem department into the school's resident pet frog.

All in all, by becoming an expert in the field of negotiations, Childe is nothing if not a master, tongue silver and smooth as he takes on a new opponent.

Which is why he dutifully negotiates with you on this Monday morning in front of the History classroom, getting down on one knee and pulling out a—

"I hope to Barbatos you aren't proposing Childe," You hiss, panicked eyes landing on the velvet box he's pulling out. "Considering that we're sixteen and still in highschool."

As if remembering those meagre details, Childe gulps and shoves the box back into his pocket. "Uhhh yeah, I was just, tying my shoelaces?" It comes out as a question.

You let out a sigh of relief, overlooking how he undoes his shoe laces just to do them all over again.

The ring burns in his pocket as he gets back up.

"Why did you call me here?" You ask, hand on your hip, foot impatiently tapping. The tap tap tap isn't because of impatience though, it's because you need something to cover the nervous palpitations of your heart.

He gives you a vicious smile, sinister enough to shake the bones of anyone who's observing, opens his daring mouth to show the imaginary sharpness of his teeth. Then with the confidence of about a hundred shirtless tiktok boys, he finally demands:

"If you don't become my girlfriend, I will kill—"

"Yeah sure thing." You answer before he can finish, soft smile growing.

Childe chuckles evilly, "I knew you'd say that, but I've come prep—wait a minute." He snaps out of his villain origin phase, stumbles back a bit, then his eyebrows are furrowing in confusion. "Did you just say yes?"

You nod, cheeks flaring up. "Don't make me repeat it." Then you look away, too embarrassed to see his reaction.

For a second, Childe's internal conflict following the chain of this event causes him to temporarily malfunction, and all he can do it stare at you in amazement.

It's only when you tell him to stop staring and jump off the school roof is when he snaps out of his daze, a grin festering on his face.

He lunges straight at you, giving you no time to deflect him as he wraps his bone crushing arms around you, then lands a soft smooch on your forehead.

"Let go of me you idiot!" You barely wheeze out, light headed not only because of your lungs being squeezed like oranges, but also because of the sloppy kiss he's delivered so ungracefully.

He does so reluctantly, and you're unamused, wiping the stickiness off your forehead with a sleeve as he steps back.

"Ew what the fuck?" You say, glaring at him. "What's wrong with you?"

He completely ignores you, giddy with excitement. "Ah girly, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that. I can't wait to introduce you to my parents and eat lunch together and kiss each other during break—"

"Slow down." You tell him, as red as a tomato towards all his suggestions. "We've barely started dating."

"Oh," Childe stops momentarily, then nods in agreement. "You're right. We should start small. How about I walk you to class?"

"We're already in front of class." You nudge your head towards the classroom, and catch Zhongli and Venti peeking from the side of the door, trying not to be obvious.

You narrow your eyes at them threateningly.

Childe tugs your arm, lovingly looking you up and down. "Let's walk to class together anyways. In a circle."

A complete waste of time, yet it's impossible to say no to the face he's making.

Before you guys depart he suddenly stops, gasping loudly, remembers something important. "I have to make a quick phone call."

Childe speed dials Scaramouche, and the latter picks up annoyed, answers the phone with muffled sounds in the back. Something that sounds a bit like pleading and whimpering.

He then mutters something that forces dread into your system. "You can release the hostages."

You hear Scaramouche groan on the other end, muttering a "such a pain in my ass", but choose not to question it immediately.

As soon as the phone call is done and you're back by his side, you point at his phone questioningly. "What hostages Childe?"

He gives you a close eyed smile, taking the fifth.

"What hostages Childe?" You repeat again weakly.

—

First period goes by smoothly for the most part. Lisa, your so called best friend, once again is bought off like a corrupted politician by your new boyfriend. She sits far away from you, leaving you without any defences against the menace that dotes on you a bit too much.

Throughout class, all Childe does is score Venti's colourful pens, and then writes you annoying little love notes, using the expert origami skills he's learnt from Anthon to deliver them to you.

Despite the threat of distraction these notes pose, the corners of your lips can't help but tug upwards at his enthusiasm and attempt at poetry.

Zhongli makes sure not to ask you two any questions the entire class, leaving you to your own accord.

Lunch comes around soon enough, and your usual table of Diluc, Jean, Kazuha, and Lisa is disturbed by the torpedo that is Childe, and he brings collateral with him.

Kaeya whole-heartedly ceases the opportunity to sit near his stoic statue of a brother purely with the intention to annoy the premature crap out of him, but one look from the redhead sends the chicken-shit right back where he came from.

When Childe forcefu—lovingly feeds you the smiley fries and dinosaur nuggets his stunning mom packed him, Diluc looks just about ready to hurl.

Lisa winks at you two, Kazuha doesn't even bother looking, and Jean tries with upmost effort to keep Diluc from launching himself at the whipped fatui boy basking in your attention.

"Quit embarrassing me." You whisper-exclaim sharply, noticing how Jean passes Diluc—all green in the face, a puke bag discreetly. "Shouldn't you be doing something illegal right now? Or vaping in the stalls?"

"I quit vaping for you girlie." Childe boops your nose with his finger. "Well, at least full time. I still need a puff when I'm around Signora, to like, get rid of her awful vibes."

While it is endearing how he quit vaping for you, it doesn't lessen the need for you to bury yourself alive right here and now.

Then you sigh, pick up a Dino nuggie, and shove it in his mouth, the tip of his tongue flicking your finger. You die inside.

"There, you happy?" The action of feeding him is so...intimate, it sets your heart aflame.

Childe's a lovesick puppy when he chews, imaginary tail wagging a hundred times a second. "Can I have a kiss too?"

Diluc slams his hands on the table and stands up, hurriedly picks up his grape juice and makes a break for it. You don't blame him.

"I'll kill you." You smack him with a napkin, blazing red. "I'll end your pathetic little life right here and now."

By the end of lunch, Lisa and Jean have to restrain you so you don't break the world record for the maximum amount of mutilations that can be done on a single body.

Fourth period is a break. A break from Childe you mean. It's expected of the school's resident bad boy aka menace to skip classes in order to skip over the bodies of his victims.

You bask in the momentary peace, until it's disrupted by a tap on the window. Reckon it's nothing, maybe a bird flew into it, because intentional taps are impossible from the third floor. Except your conviction is hindered yet again by another tap.

What a nuisance.

You finally turn to look outside the window, face down, and spot Childe waving incessantly, rocks in hand, oozing with excitement that can't be concealed and a grin that nearly takes you into cardiac arrest. Without meaning to, you send him a small smile, waving back as Baal drones on about quantum superposition.

Successful in gaining your attention, he moves aside to reveal the hefty corpse of a stonehide lawachurl with a destructive path in its wake. The ridges and bumps of its hide are enough to do a number on the road, ruining the school's playing field.

Your smile drops down into a horrified frown in the span of a few seconds.

"Wow." Albedo, your lab partner whispers from next to you, for the first time distracted in class.

"Yeah," Kaeya whistles from behind you two, one hand supporting his head. "What a gesture."

"Y/N, I'd be grateful if you could possibly obtain a black crystal horn for me from the specimen." The blonde asks, entranced by the corpse that your boyfriend is flaunting off to you with pride.

"Aren't those things endangered cutie?" Lisa makes sure to butt in, as per usual.

Yes. Your boyfriend with several issues and an affinity for chaos brought you the corpse of an endangered geo-infused creature that's five times the size of him. During school hours too, the fiend. Like a cat dragging the corpse of a dead mouse to its owner.

You groan into your hands, heart racing while the fire is coursing through your veins.

That idiot.

—

Childe is exceptional at a lot of things, like the switch and making weapons out of seemingly harmless things (e.g shiv out of a toothbrush), but what he prides in the most is physical education. With washboard abs, uber tall height, and a dickish smile to top it all, he has everything it takes to showcase his top tier athletic abilities.

He pounces at the opportunity to show off in front of you, wanting nothing more than to have you fawn over his strength. He's sure it'll be enough to have you all over him, wrapping your cute little arms around his muscled ones, passing him his water bottle and dabbing away at the sweat on his forehead. Most of all, he daydreams you planting your soft lips on his to congratulate him after a big game.

Physical education, for you, is a pain. You may be good with your brain, but games exert more energy than necessary, and coordination that lacks logic entirely. You're just here for the credit. The over-achiever part of you walks the extra mile to ensure a grade in the high nineties.

Although witnessing Childe clad in the school shorts and matching polo shirt is enough to make this worth your while, you'll die before admitting it. Especially when he gawks at you as if it's the first time you're wearing the sports uniform yourself. It has you fidgeting with your fingers and tugging your shorts down nervously.

You try not to flip him off like you usually do, especially since it's not even been twenty four hours since he's asked you out.

Mr.Zhongli blows a whistle, calling all the students over to surround him. It's odd that he teaches most of the subjects at this school, seemingly the only adult present, but no one questions it in fear of genshin logic. Moving on, he explains that you have a dodge ball game today.

Lisa groans beside you. She hates anything that requires the exertion of energy, oftentimes bringing a book to read while everyone else screams in the background.

You're relieved, mainly because Childe and Tohma are usually captains, and Childe always picks you to be on his team as a means to flex his skills. For you, it means sitting back and watching him carry your team towards a straight A.

However, all your dreams are crushed when Zhongli announces the team leaders.

"Y/N, I trust that you'll lead the blue team to the upmost of your ability. Childe, prepare to lead the opposing red team."

Your knees shake as you stare at him in disbelief. "But Sir—"

"No buts Y/N." He scolds you lightly, checking off your names on the clip board. "I'd like to witness your exceptional leadership skills."

In reality, Zhongli just wants to reenact a lovers-on-opposing sides trope, wanting to see how the two of you crack under the pressure. In a way, it is an exercise of leadership.

Instead of picking teams, Zhongli assigns teams for the both of you according to his own judgement, trying to make it as fair as possible.

Lisa pats your back after your teammates are assigned, trying to cheer you up. "It's going to be okay. You guys are dating now, so he'll go easy on you."

You look up to meet Childe's eyes from across the court. He gives you a charming smile, which turns downright barbaric as he lifts up a thumb and motions to slash his neck with it. Then he wickedly mouths "I'm going to destroy you."

You blink and turn away as fast as you can in fear. "We're fucked."

Lisa, witnessing the entire ordeal nods alongside you, doing nothing to reassure you because she herself has given up.

Suddenly a hand lands on your shoulder gripping you tightly. "Let's wipe the floor with that g*nger." The voice is ice cold, threatening enough to send a shiver down your bones.

You turn to meet Rosaria, who frowns at you. Most of the time she doesn't really put an effort in dodgeball, but she must've seen your crestfallen expression, trying to comfort you in her own detached way.

Rosaria is the other school nurse in training, alongside Barbara, but somehow her patients end up more injured, sick, or mentally defiled than before they entered the room. She also spends after hours beating up Chads in the school parking lot. Also runs a blog with her booby co-author Kaeya that emphasizes mostly on the dark knight hero.

Spotting the rest of your team behind her, you begin to criticize them one by one.

Standing against the wall is Kaeya, pushing both his biddies up with his crossed arms like an absolute whore. He's breaking about several dress code rules right now. Venti is next to him, drunk off his butt as he beat boxes with Tohma.

Eula mutters under her breath, on and on about seeking revenge on Zhongli for putting her beloved Amber on the opposing team, promising him an unfortunate fate. Xiao is miserably squatting on the floor, sharp eyes observing everyone in the gym, scowl not ready to dissipate anytime soon.

Then you look over at Childe's team in the distance. Jean with a determined look on her face as she listens to Childe's game plan, and Diluc crossing his arms with his brows furrowed in concentration. Even Amber, the best baller in the school, is stretching out her arms, assisted by the gifted princess of the school, Ayaka.

Not only that, but Childe has the king of dodging on his team—Kaedehara goddamn Kazuha. Beidou shoots you a wicked smirk, winking at you until she's disrupted by Ningguang's shove.

"Oh my god." You cry out when the realization hits you, falling to your knees in despair. "We're completely fucked!"

"No we aren't." Rosaria mutters lowly. "You're only fucked if you want to be. Don't you dare throw in the towel before the fight has even begun."

"But I—"

"Stop it." She grumbles again, rolling her eyes. "You're being annoying now. If you lose the game, that makes him the dom. Don't you want to be the dom?"

She's right. You do want to be the dom.

Her words of encouragement, and not at all veiled insults somehow allow you to find motivation deep within yourself. You get up and stomp towards the rest of your team, calling their attention with your newfound confidence.

"Listen here soldiers!" You shout out, determination clear as day. "I know I am not capable of leading. I know that I barely have the physical capabilities needed to defeat the opposite team."

You take a deep breath, pointing at your cutie patootie boyfriend across the gym as you seethe. "But that man, that harbinger of chaos, that instrument of war, is nothing but a tyrant. And I cannot let such a tyrant be a victor in this battle. Not when innocent lives are at stake."

Tohma speaks up, sending you a bewildered look. "What lives—"

"Shut the fuck up soldier!"

"Yessir!" He immediately stiffens, saluting you.

"Are you ready soldiers?" Your voice booms, and everyone reinforces their priorities, except for Kaeya though. He just lazily smirks.

After Zhongli places the balls in the middle, everyone prepares for the battle of the century.

'Gods, please let us win this war' you pray to the archons above, closing your eyes in concentration.

'Give me the strength to flex my superior skills' Childe wishes, then adds on quickly 'also I want to dominate this world.'

'Give me the strength to make it to Friday.' Rosaria prays for nobody but herself, rolls her eyes at all the unnecessary dramatics of this dodgeball game.

"3..." "2..." "1..."

Zhongli ends the countdown by blowing hard into a whistle, signaling the beginning of the game.

Not even two seconds later a ball whooshes past a few of you at the speed of light, followed by a tail of fire. The ball of death kisses Kaeya square in the nose, sending him reeling back into a wall with enough sheer force to cause an indent.

Everyone winces.

Before you all can reel in from the initial shock and make sense out of wherever the hell that asteroid came from, Zhongli's voice booms throughout the gymnasium.

"Mr. Ragnvindr, headshots are strictly forbidden. You are out!"

With a scoff, Diluc, satisfied with his work, leaves the court with no apparent qualms. He accepts his defeat with the upturned corners of his lips.

Rosaria pokes Kaeya's body with the tip of her heels, then cringes when he shakes awake, up from his short lived knockout and sends a wink her way.

"Getting handsy when I'm unconscious? I didn't think you'd be one to partake in such vulgar activities." His eye twinkles in mischief, and if his momentary defeat at the hands of brother has him fuming, he doesn't show it one bit.

The only thing that keeps Rosaria from knocking him out for real is the blood that trails down onto his lip. She doesn't want to clean blood off her shoes, especially since it's a pain in the ass to get off.

You're about to tell them to get up and take this seriously, but a softball does your job for you when it darts straight at Rosaria. With pristine accuracy, the girl manages to pitch herself away last minute.

You swivel in Childe's direction, who wears a remorseless grin, which only grows wider once you pick up a blue softball next to your feet.

The glare that he receives has him shaking in exhilaration. More so than the elation he'd felt when he took down that Stonehide Lawachurl for you, as a gift of promise.

You begin to bark out orders. "Eula, Xiao, and Rosaria cover the front and act as decoys."

They nod immediately, but Xiao still clicks his tongue in distaste as he starts following orders.

Then you offer Kaeya a hand. "Get up princess. You're on sniper duty."

With Diluc out of commission, the battle is fair and square now considering both sides have the same amount of people. Ergo, no one's at a disadvantage.

That is—until Lisa fake trips over pure air, landing on the floor in a dramatic slow motion.

You roll your eyes.

"Oh dear! I think I've twisted something." She cries out, crawling away from the battle field, acting as if she's paralyzed completely. "Don't worry about me. I'll cheer you on from afar. The battle has begun, and it seems as if I've become the first casualty."

You don't let the countless amount of Lisa's betrayals get to you, even this one. It's just her personality to flake out on anything and everything that requires her to do more than below the bare minimum.

Focusing on the match, your eyes are only on Childe, just as his are on you.

You aim the ball straight at his ribs, step back a bit, then propel the ball in the air with as much energy as you can, using your entire body as a power outlet. The ball spins in the air, reaching the awaiting victim.

Childe, unbothered, dodges the ball with perfect precision, the ball not even grazing his clothes at the least.

Your jaw drops open, and you're about to move for another ball until he grabs the same ball you threw at him. With the sharpness of a predator locking in on its pray, he focuses on you like a missile locks on its target, launching the ball in the air for power that has you trembling, second to the powerful ball that was thrown by Diluc.

With your pupils dilated at your impeding doom, it's Xiao that grabs you and thrusts away.

The ball lands on the floor, smoke rising.

"Holy shit!" You shriek over everyone else's grunts and shuffles. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Isn't it poetic?" Childe shouts back while he slides away from the balls being thrown. "Lover against lover. Either you're by my side, or in my way. And right now, you're in my way." He narrows his eyes dangerously. "Albeit reluctantly, I will take the victory babe. Even if we are on opposing sides."

"There was zero reluctance in that throw asshole!"

You thank Xiao, who wipes his hands on his pants in disgust. "Filthy humans. So pathetic and weak."

Mildly offended, you roll your sleeves up and begin to fight with everything you've got as soon as he walks away.

The dodgeball game goes as expected for the most part, Eula carrying for most of it with the flow of her skills.

Tohma actually tries like the presumptuous asshole he is, aims straight for his girlfriend Ayaka, and takes her out completely. His only justification for that is "I ain't no simp!"

He shelves his cocky attitude when facing Childe with a sense of dignity and prestige you didn't think he had in him.

The two one of a kind fuckbois puff out their chests so that they look more hefty than they are, having some kind of an Alpha match. The 'me stronger than you. me dominant. me get all the women' type beat.

Unfortunately, Childe manages to fence him with his throws, and lo and behold, the square off ends with a dejected Tohma dragging his feet to the nearest bench.

Eula oversees that Ningguang and Beidou meet a quick end, taking their slower dodging to her advantage. You're actually rooting for her, tasting a sliver of victory that you haven't reached yet. So close, yet so far.

Amber trips on herself in the middle of throwing a what should've been coordinated ball, and it loses most of its momentum. Xiao is directly in front of it, and will probably be able to catch it with ease.

Ah, another short victory.

If Childe loses his expert baller, he's only left with Kazuha and Jean, whom's lack in the art of throwing is made up by their ability to dodge most of the fastballs.

However, all your plans and hopes are crushed when Eula slides in front of Xiao last minute, sticks out her foot, and let's the pathetic product of Amber's would-be downfall hit her on the leg with the total force of about 0.0000001 newtons.

Your chances of winning have just went down by a staggering 60%.

"Eula!" You cry out, collapsing on the ground. "How could you?"

Tohma cups his mouth and bellows obnoxiously from the bench. "SIMP!"

"I cannot avenge my clan if I win a false victory." Eula crosses her arms, casting her gaze down in visible uncomfortableness. "Amber will pay her dues in two business days. Mark my words."

It all a load of cap. She's sleeping with the enemy and you know it.

You grit your teeth. Fuming with an abundance of rage, you pick up three balls and throw them all back to back, taking out Amber and Kazuha simultaneously.

Childe's heart flutters in another kind of delight when you pluck out his team members one by one with no hints of remorse.

In retaliation, Jean and Childe work in sync to swiftly take care of a distracted Rosaria.

"Shit." You hiss underneath your breath.

It's Venti, Kaeya, Xiao, and you who are the only remainders of your short-lived team. It's still two more people than Childe and Jean, giving you the upper hand briefly.

It's a mystery to everyone how Venti is still standing. You reckoned you would've lost him as collateral during the beginning of the match, but it seems he's able to hold his own.

When you squint hard enough, you realize that Xiao has been t-posing in front of the nonchalant SoundCloud rapper that's about as high as a kite. He must've been defending him throughout the entire round.

His defenses are all in vain once Childe correlates another attack with Jean, sharp-shooting four rapid balls that are secured on their targets.

Xiao swerves to the side, avoiding most of them, until one is about to reach a nonchalant as shit Venti.

You scream at him, eyes widening as you run towards them in slow motion. "NOoOoOOOo-"

The yaksha doesn't waste a moment, shifting so that he's covering Venti's body with his own, which to be honest is a pretty heartwarming sight.

The ball hits his lean back, a sharp thud following when it hits the floor.

Xiao is out. But his sacrifice is so inspiring that it brings tears to Zhongli's eyes, makes everyone in the gym go silent in awe.

Even the sadistic Childe melts, cerulean eyes gaining back their light, halting his fire.

When Xiao finally uncovers Venti's body, he speaks from the bottom of his dead heart. "I'd do anything for you..."

Venti shakes out of his baked state, blinking at him stupidly with a nervous chuckle. "Ehe~? I don't even know who you are."

The entire class sweat drops. Whatever slip of compassion on Childe's face earlier has become nothing but a memory. Even your eyes dim.

The next time Childe aims and locks at Venti, it's not with malicious intent. It's a favour, for you. In a way it adds dimension to who he is and the lengths he's willing to go for you, even at war.

Venti steps away with a bounce in his gait, hands behind his head.

Kaeya and you are the only ones left standing now, and the game becomes too tight knit to tell which side's going to win. It becomes utter chaos, balls being launched every second, stamina slowly decreasing as everyone lurches away from their demise.

As laid-back  and charming as the boy presents himself to be in front of the ladies, he's not very patient when it comes to facing circumstances like these. He's side lined for most of the match, finding it boring. And when Kaeya gets bored, the intensity of the tide changes, and everyone knows they're going to get a run for their money.

Kaeya coasts a hand around your hips, pulls you real close, purposefully leaning his bust into the side your innocent arm.

When Childe's smile drops, and the glint in his eyes reads 'DANGER' in full caps, you know it's time to be properly scared.

Your blood runs cold, mouth opening briefly and then clamping shut immediately.

"I'm so glad to be on your team Y/N. Maybe this'll give us the chance to become...closer." His hot breath fans against your ear, voice loud enough to be heard by onlookers.

Suddenly everything stops, falling into an unsettling silence.

You attempt glance at Childe, being met with a glare that's directed at the Captain of the Skating team. The ball in the orange-haired boy's hand deflates from the sheer intensity of the squeeze.

The tension becomes unreadable. Even Zhongli is caught mid-sip with his tea.

Quickly, you shrug off Kaeya's arm. "Childe, he's just fucking with you—"

Childe cuts you off by hurling a ball with nothing but the objective of cold blooded murder.

Kaeya whizzes past you, successfully ducking to avoid the hit, and his amused laugh rings through your ears. He rolls away from the following attacks, chucking his own series of colourful balls.

The events that unfold are blood-curdling enough to make even Satan boil his pants with diarrhea.

You take the clear opportunity presented by their concurrent dumbassery to take out Jean, the ace of the other team.

Childe's rage blows over when Kaeya eventually loses interest and takes the L, playfully winking at you while walking backwards to the rest of your team.

Now that all the distractions are dealt with, Childe's eyes flicker to you, and you share a murderous glance.

"Finally," He slaps the softball with a free hand, lips thinning into a homicidal smile. "I've been waiting for this. You better not disappoint me."

While Childe may be a violent anarchist who's only aspiration in life is to become a government contracted killer, he's also supposed to be your sweet boyfriend.

Slowly, you inch towards the front. "We don't have to do this Childe. We can coexist peacefully."

"Peace was never an option Y/N." He sighs, cracking his neck. "Besides—how else can I prove myself in your eyes? You may be my greatest weakness, but you are also my greatest adversary."

"I don't know, maybe start with not trying to obliterate me?"

"I'm obliterating you out of respect." He counters with a playful pout.

"Well I'll be paying my respects to your grave!" You lurch ahead into a sudden assault, yeeting as many balls as you can his way.

"That's my girl!" Childe whistles, grin widening psychotically when he goes all out, leaving you with an absence in favorable openings.

Out of nowhere, the fire alarms start going haywire, along with a beep in the PA system, which stops you two in your tracks.

A panicked voice of who you assume to be Yanfei shrieks through the comms. "CODE ORANGE! CODE ORANGE! EVACUATE THE BUILDING, THERE'S A STONEHIDE LAWACHURL ON THE PREMISES."

As if on cue, the ground starts rumbling and a Stonehide Lawachurl bursts through the halls and into the gym, looking around for something. Or rather, someone. It's sharp bumps and ridges make an indent on the floor, cracking it in.

Everyone falls into a state of panic, Zhongli trying his best to evacuate the class from the emergency back door as quickly as possible. "Settle down class, we have to follow protocol."

You, devoid of any emotion or sense of fear, turn to your boyfriend in such a calm manner it strikes an ominous dread in his stomach.

You stare.

Childe stares harder.

“I thought you killed it."

"I did." He retorts slowly, switching to gaze at the raging beast in amazement.

"Then why is it in the school!" You seethe, glaring daggers at his side profile.

Childe chuckles sheepishly, scratches the back of his neck. "I may or may not have stuffed the body in the boys washroom. Y'know, for safe keeping?"

The Lawachurl locks it's gaze on you, the prey, and then roars furiously. Turning into its geo-enhanced state, it begins charging at you with all its might, the target being solely Childe.

Leave it to your boyfriend to get on the hit list of an endangered beast.

"Fear not my vibrant girlfriend. Our first date can be surviving this." Childe cheekily kisses the top of your trembling hand before grasping it tightly and making a run for it.

[archived-kin]

solomon deserves a husband so i'm giving him one (it's you)

note from kin: i don’t know HOW i’ve managed to get this out so soon after my last piece but i do know that it is a miracle (now watch me disappear for like a month lmao)

anyway there’s a severe lack of content for the boys in this fandom and therefore i am here to try to mitigate that!!

(as a heads up, this is sort of an au version of obey me’s story?? there’s no exchange program, and the general human world doesn’t know about the devildom or celestial realm, apart from sorcerers and similar special cases. solomon and simeon both still visit the devildom, though - solomon because he has a sort of job at the r.a.d., and simeon as an ambassador sort of thing for the celestial realm. the r.a.d.’s also less of a school and more of an organisation?? i haven’t really fleshed it out haha)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male! reader, solomon, mammon (briefly), simeon (briefly)

pairing(s): solomon/reader

warning(s): blasphemy??? solomon disses god really briefly and that’s about it

genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!

As a general rule of thumb, Solomon doesn’t believe in destiny.

He’s lived long enough to know that, no matter what he does, the universe does not care about him, much less have some sort of plan for his future. The course that the world takes isn’t affected by some grand puppet master pulling the strings; one has to force the so-called path of fate in the direction they want it to take if they want something. Solomon knows this better than anyone.

It’s as much a downfall as it is a strength - as much as power as he’s amassed over the countless years, his constant need to challenge the universe’s power has lead him down a path far from humanity. There had been a time when he was like every other human on the Earth, when he was still young, full of hope and determination and promise, believing earnestly in some God high in the sky who would guide him through his life.

He shudders to think what sort of insufferable fool he’d been back then. An almighty God? Don’t make him laugh. The ruler of the Celestial Realm is incompetent at best, and a downright childish brat at worst. He doesn’t know how the angels put up with him - though he supposes his realm-smiting power is part of it. Why the universe chose to place such power on such a being’s shoulders will always be beyond him.

Long as it has been since he had been so naive, Solomon has learnt his lesson, to say the least. He’s seen people come and go, witnessed kings and queens reign and fall, watched on as friends and family live and die. It’s a truth that he’s been forced to learn across the years of his long, long life, a curse that he brought upon himself the moment he gave up the purity of his soul in pursuit of magical arts. 

He supposes he’s always had an insatiable thirst for the unknown - to play all his cards out front, to tempt fate’s hand, to jump into the void and hope to find ground beneath his feet when he lands. It’s that sort of reckless abandon and hunt for knowledge that has led him so far down this path, through so many years, across so many sleepless nights. The world continues to swirl around him, always changing, but Solomon refuses to be swept away. Because, even in the tumultuous movement of the universe, there has always been one constant that keeps him anchored - you.

The night he'd first met you isn’t as clear in his mind as he would have liked. He wants to be able to remember everything - the way the soft blue light of the will-o’-whisps had lit up your eyes in the dark of the night, the way that your hand had felt in his as you greeted him with a handshake, the way that you had said his name for the first time - in sharp detail, but Solomon knows better than to hope to recall something so long ago so perfectly.

He’d still been relatively new to a sorcerer’s life at the time - excited and determined and a little too full of himself. You… well, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember thinking that you must be the most handsome being to exist. The you of today would probably shake your head and dismiss the past you as an obnoxious high hoper, but Solomon has loved you for so many years that he’s never been able to think of you as anything less than perfect.

There are times when he wondered how he managed to stumble upon such luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Solomon has has had truly insufferable periods over the years he’s known you, and he’s always considered it a miracle that you still chose to stay. Even through all the restless nights and the exhausting trips, even after all of the clashes and vexation, you have refused to give up on him.

He had asked you once, in the aftermath of an argument spurred by his inability to confide in you and your own frustration with his refusal to communicate. He remembers that night so vividly that it might well have happened just yesterday - the frustrated shouts, the shattering of glass, the warmth of your arms around his shoulders as he finally collapsed on himself. He doesn’t know what your face had looked like as he stuttered the question out in stuttering breaths, head buried in your shoulder in an effort to conceal his tears, but he imagines that it had been soft.

“I’m not going to leave you to yourself,” You had told him matter-of-factly, stroking his hair with such fondness  that it still sometimes brings a tear to his eye when he remembers it on particularly long nights. “And I’m not giving up on you, either - not now, not ever.”

Solomon had been unable to speak, too choked up by his feelings and the sudden, overwhelming love spreading through his entire body to reply. He’d only sunk deeper into your embrace, wishing that the moment could last forever.

I wonder if he still remembers that…?

“...lomon! Anyone home?!”

He jolts up from the table he’s sitting at so abruptly that he nearly knocks his head right into Mammon’s chin. The Avater of Greed, however, reacts quickly, and hops back before Solomon can break his jawbone.

“Jeez, you’re off on a different planet today,” He comments, setting his hands on his hips as Solomon shoots him the sort of look that tells him that he’s not particularly enthused about his presence at the moment. “What’s up with ya?”

Solomon isn’t quite sure how to answer. Sorry, I got distracted thinking about how perfect and lovely my husband is and how I’m the luckiest man in the entire world - nay, the universe - to have him. He nearly physically shudders at the thought of how much teasing he’d receive if he answered like that.

Instead, he chooses a much safer and still technically true option. “Just thinking about going home today.”

Mammon nods in understanding, pulling up a seat next to him and throwing himself down into it without much grace. “I feel ya. S’ been a long day.”

“You’ve barely done anything today,” Solomon quips flatly, not particularly impressed by the demon’s attempt at… empathy? Relatability? Either way, it isn’t working. “I doubt it’s been that hard.”

“Now, now, Solomon, let’s not be rude,” interjects a soft voice from behind them. Simeon is still dressed in his fancy envoy cloak - the one so long and heavy that it trails along behind him like a bridal train, decorated with a number of elaborate golden charms that jingle as he moves.

Solomon attempts to shoot him a slightly annoyed look, but it’s kind of hard to stay irritated by one of the literal embodiments of holiness and light, even if he wakes you up at very unholy hours of the morning to help him figure out how to answer an email. Solomon isn’t ungrateful for the new age of technology descending on humanity, but he’d like it a lot better if it hadn’t somehow reached the angels as well. The amount of times he’s had to tell Simeon that he needs to actually turn his D.D.D. on before he starts calling someone is… embarrassing, to say the least.

“You’re back in the Devildom, I see,” He observes as the angel pulls up a seat and sits beside him. “Did Michael send you down again?”

Simeon nods with a smile. “There were some arrangements that needed to be made with Lord Diavolo. Naturally, I volunteered.”

“Naturally,” Solomon echoes, raising a brow at his friend. “I don’t suppose your biases had anything to do with your decision?”

“Well, they may have had some effect,” Simeon answers with a shameless smile and shrug, beginning to undo the tassels of his heavy cloak and draping it on the back of chair he’s sitting on. He’s still wearing all of his regular clothes underneath it - including the other, much smaller cloak. Solomon wonders how he hasn’t somehow melted in the heat.

“When’re you gonna start heading home, anyway?” Mammon asks, beginning to pick at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Solomon blinks and looks up at the clock. “...ah, you’re right. In that case, I'll get going now.”

Mammon shoots him an odd look as he pushes himself up from the table and reaches for his bag, managing to hoist it onto his shoulder with some effort. He’s never been particularly good at heavy lifting - you’re usually the one helping him carry everything around the house.

“Oi, oi, what’s the rush?” the demon asks as Solomon adjusts the weight of his bag and starts heading for the door. “You on a timer or something?”

“I promised [Name] I’d be home earlier tonight,” is Solomon’s slightly absent-minded reply as he fiddles about in his pocket to find his transportation charm, nearly losing his balance and dropping his bag in the process. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Mammon watches him in clear confusion for a moment as he pats down his pockets, mumbling a quiet curse under his breath as he realises that he’s left his charm at home again. How many times this month does that make it now...? He supposes that he could always perform a teleportation spell, but knowing his luck with those, he’ll probably end up somewhere in Morocco again.

“Oi, Simeon,” Mammon hisses to the angel, who cocks his head slightly to the side and leans over so as to hear him more clearly. “Who’s this ‘[Name]’ Solomon’s talkin’ about?”

“You don’t know?” Simeon blinks at him in blatant perplexion - as if he can’t even fathom the idea that Mammon might not know who Solomon’s talking about. “He’s talking about his husband.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then—

“Solomon has a HUSBAND!?” Mammon practically shrieks, completely flabbergasted. “I thought he was totally, like, the forever alone type!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?” is Simeon’s bewildered response. “Who do you think Solomon is always talking about buying groceries for?”

“I thought he was just buyin’ them for himself!” Mammon fires back, looking far more ruffled and shocked than he probably should be. He whips around to look at Solomon, who’s flicking through the little packet of blank charms he keeps on him at all times in an effort to find the right one to create a temporary transportation charm. He’s had to do it so many times this month that he’s already beginning to run out. “You’re married?!”

“Of course,” Solomon answers vaguely, briefly raising his left hand, allowing Mammon to spot the soft glint of a ring around his fourth finger. “You’re not?”

“Wh— ‘course I’m not!” Mammon exclaims, positively scandalised by the very concept. “Why would I get married, huh?! It’s a waste of time and a waste of money!”

“Think whatever you like,” Solomon dismisses him easily, which only seems to irritate Mammon further.

Finally having found the right blank charm, he plucks it out and begins carefully tracing patterns onto it with a single glowing finger. He’s dimly aware of Mammon furiously whispering to Simeon in the background, with the angel responding in kind, most likely sharing some exaggerated story from back when the three of you had worked together - when Solomon had accepted a job from the Celestial Realm. The details of the whole thing are a little fuzzy to him now, long as it has been, but he’s almost completely sure that Simeon somehow still remembers the whole thing flawlessly.

“How old even is he?!” He hears Mammon hiss.

“I’m not so sure myself,” Simeon replies, placing his chin in a thoughtful hand. “Let’s see… their two millennial anniversary’s coming up in about two years, and I remember Solomon saying that they got married when he was around two hundred or so… which means he’s about twenty-one hundred years old.”

“Holy shit,” Mammon mutters in disbelief, turning glance at the sorcerer as he starts folding down the corners of his charm into the right shape. “Humans aren’t supposed to live that long. How’s his husband still alive, then?”

“That isn’t really a question for me to answer,” Simeon shakes his head slightly. “I suppose you can always ask him yourself if Solomon ever brings him to work with him.”

“I doubt it,” Solomon speaks up for the first time since announcing his departure. “He’s usually busy during the day. Besides, transportation charms make him queasy, and I’m not making him walk all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you a wizard?” Mammon asks, scratching his head. “Just do one of ya fancy teleportation spells. Why d’you need a charm?”

Solomon sighs. He hates to admit it, but he can’t be bothered to make up some other reason to cover up for himself. “I’m afraid that teleportation spells aren’t actually particularly accurate. We could end up somewhere in the Pacific if I’m not careful.”

Mammon looks thunderstruck. “Then what about all those times you’ve teleported us?! Don’t tell me we coulda ended up in, like, the Archaic Pit or something?!”

“Well, it was always a possibility,” Solomon shrugs in reply, finishing the charm with a deft flick of his hand. “You’re a demon, I sure you could have handled yourself.”

“But…!” Mammon crosses his arms and turns away like a grumpy child. “Hmph…”

“Do say hello to [Name] for me, will you?” Simeon requests as Solomon turns to open the door, ignoring the sulking demon sitting beside him. “We haven’t been able to talk for a while.”

“You text him every day, don’t you?” Solomon asks, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I’d say that’s conversation enough.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be stingy,” Simeon countered with a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning forward. “Besides, one misses the presence of an actual person after a while of nothing but electronic communication... especially texting is so difficult. Tell him he’s always welcome to come around for some tea - Luke would be happy to see him.”

Solomon shakes his head, but makes a sound of affirmation nevertheless. You had mentioned that you’ve missed seeing Simeon since he’d started the whole negotiator businesss, and he isn’t the sort of person to deny you the company of a friend. “I’ll let him know. Anyway, I should really be going now…”

“Have a safe journey!” Simeon calls after him as he swings the door open and sweeps out. Solomon waves a hand over his shoulder in response, then disappears down the corridor, most likely to a quiet spot in the courtyard to use his charm. He’s been banned from using them indoors ever since he accidentally shattered one of the fancy artifacts in the assembly hall and sent hundreds of shards flying everywhere. Apparently Barbatos is still finding tiny pieces of glass in the crevices of the floor.

“Why didn’t Solomon ever say anythin’?” Mammon asks Simeon after a moment of quietude. “Seems like the sorta thing you’d mention.”

“Solomon’s a private man,” Simeon says with a shrug. “Besides, he and [Name] have made plenty of enemies over the years, and you’d be shocked by how quickly names and locations can spread…”

“Does he mind us knowin’ about it, then?”

“Well, personally, I’ve known for a while,” Simeon answers, “And I’m sure the others will have worked it out by now - Solomon’s always finding ways to mention [Name] in passing. But no, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He’d say something if he did.”

Mammon nods and goes silent for a little while. Then he asks, “What’s this [Name] like, then? Must be some guy if Solomon liked him enough to put a ring on him and keep him for that long.”

“Well, let’s see…” Simeon drums his fingers thoughtfully against the tabletop. “He has quite the penchant for raising deadly plants, he hasn’t gone more than a full month without exploding something or another for about five centuries, he takes clocks apart in his spare time, he likes his coffee with a touch of vanilla, he collects cursed books, he makes a lovely butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and he works as a curse breaker for hire.”

It takes a moment for Mammon to process all of the information that’s just been dumped on him. “...sounds like the kinda guy Satan would get along with.”

“I thought so as well,” Simeon agrees. “Their house even reminds me of Satan’s room, in a way… [Name] is quite the avid reader.”

“What, you’ve been?”

“Only once,” Simeon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he reminisces. “Quite a long time ago now. I wouldn’t know where to find it even if I wanted to go again, though - it’s always moving.”

“Do they move house a lot, then?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. They’ve lived in the same house for centuries - it’s the house that moves itself.”

Mammon pauses. “...what?”

“The building,” Simeon clarifies. “They’ve got an enchantment on the whole thing that makes it change locations every couple of weeks or so.”

“But… why?”

Simeon shrugs. “[Name] doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Still, isn’t that a bit much…?” Mammon pulls a face. “They could always just travel, ya know…”

“As Solomon said, transportation talismans make [Name] feel queasy,” Simeon explains. “And he prefers not to use teleportation spells when it comes to him, just in case they end up somewhere dangerous.”

“And he doesn’t care about the rest of us ending up somewhere dangerous?” Mammon huffs and collapses forwards onto the table.

“Well, you can’t really compare the two,” Simeon says patiently as the demon continues to mutter indignantly under his breath. “He’s his husband, and we’re essentially just his friends from work.”

Mammon opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, then thinks about it for a moment and changes his mind. After a moment, he comments, a little less resentfully, “Well, you’d think he’d at least introduce us.”

“He’s been planning to for a while, actually,” Simeon tells him. “Give him some time and he’ll probably bring it up on his own.”

Mammon nods. “He’d better!”

“I’m home.”

You look up from the book you’re reading and hop down from your seat on the roof just in time to see Solomon emerge from the back garden, looking noticeably dishevelled, with leaves decorating his head like some sort of fancy accessory.

“Welcome back!” You greet him happily, setting the book aside and moving forward to start picking the leaves from his hair. Solomon smiles softly at you as you take his bag in one hand and start pulling him to the front door with the other. “You forgot your talisman again, by the way.”

“I noticed,” He laughs, gently removing your hand from his upper arm and wrapping his fingers around it instead. “Why else do you think I ended up in the hedges again?”

“It’s a wonder that you’ve had to make these temporary talismans so many times and you still haven’t gotten one right yet,” You tease in reply, nudging him in the shoulder. “How many points is that on the tally now, then?”

“Ten for the basement, seven for the roof, and eleven for the hedges now,” He answers with a small pout as you laugh. “Honestly, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson...”

“You never do, love.” 

The door creaks as you and your husband enter the house, only to immediately be greeted by a bundle of scales hitting you head-on. You manage to keep your footing and steady yourself on the doorway; Solomon isn’t so lucky, and ends up laying spread-eagled on the floor with about two hundred kilograms of excited adolescent dragon purring on his chest.

“Looks like Triton missed you,” You comment with a bright smile, setting Solomon’s bag down beside the umbrella rack and leaning over to give the dragon a scratch behind his left horn, just the way he likes it. He rumbles happily and jingles the little bell around his neck at you. “Isn’t he getting big?”

“I saw him this morning, [Name],” Solomon wheezes from his position on the floor, somehow managing to reach up and tickle Triton’s chin with one hand despite the dragon’s weight. “He can’t have grown that much in ten hours.”

“You never know!” You tell him, reaching up and wrapping your arms around Triton’s neck. He coos in a delighted fashion and raises his head, setting it heavily on your shoulder. Solomon uses the brief lightening of the weight on him to take in a deep breath as you allow your dragon to nuzzle furiously into your neck. “Dragons are unpredictable, you know.”

“Believe me, I do,” He sighs tiredly as Triton blows out a pleased puff of hot air and knocks the clock off the wall again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Triton, I’d quite like to get back up again.”

The dragon blinks and raises his head from your shoulder, glancing down at the sorcerer that he’s crushing under his weight. Then he huffs and turns away again.

“Oh, you—!” Solomon curses as the dragon seems to press even harder into him. Your laughter rings out across the hall, and while he’d normally take a moment to admire the sound, he’s a little preoccupied. “[Name], stop laughing and help me!”

“He’s like a rebellious teenager!” You splutter helplessly in reply, voice still trembling slightly out of mirth. Triton makes a happy noise as you reach up and rub his scaly cheeks, his ears fluttering slightly. “Awww, you’re really growing up, aren’t you, baby? Your poor dads are really going to have their work cut out for them, huh?”

“Hey,” Solomon calls reproachfully from beneath Triton’s enormous chest. “Your husband’s still being crushed down here.”

“Oh, right!” You click your tongue and give Triton a meaningful look. He grumbles but obeys nevertheless, hopping off of Solomon (though not without knocking all the air out of him by using his chest as a launchpad) and scampering off, most likely to go play with the salamanders that have set up shop in the storage room again.

“I’ll never understand how you manage him so well,” Solomon sighs as you bend down to pull him to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his chest. “He never listens to me.”

“Aw, he loves you, really,” You reassure him, taking his hand and pressing a comforting kiss to his knuckles. “He just likes roughhousing with you.”

Solomon shakes his head, wanting to complain further about the big lizard that the two of you had adopted six months ago after the last one grew up and flew the nest, but then he sees the smile on your face, and he feels the flicker of irritation in his chest die down almost immediately. It’s at times like this that he’s really reminded of how absolutely worth it all of the nonsense he has to put up with at work is - because, at the end of the day, you are here, with your warm eyes and your lovely smile, with your comforting hands and your warm embrace, and there is no road too long to walk if you are waiting for him at the end of it.

“I know,” He sighs, tugging off his shoes and stepping into his favourite pair of slippers - the ones with the little cat faces printed on them that you’ve charmed to always maintain a perfect temperature for his feet. He glances at your own feet and notes that you’re wearing your matching pair as well.

The two of you have long since set up a routine for this sort of occasion, and you both fall into it with unconscious ease. Solomon changes into something more comfortable while you put the kettle on in the kitchen, and the two of you inevitably spend so long snuggled up together on the largest armchair in the living room, unwilling to leave the warmth of each other’s presence, that the water cools down, and you end up having to put it back on again. Then you sit together at the table, you with a coffee with a dash of vanilla and him with his favourite chrysanthemum tea that you always brew just the way he likes it. Sometimes you’ll sit side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other as you show him the specifics of your latest curse-breaking commission, and sometimes you’ll sit across from each other, holding hands across the tabletop as he tells you about his day.

Today it is the former, but Solomon can’t help but zone a little out of the detailed deep-dive you’re giving him about the intricacies of the spell that’s cursed this teapot to shoot its contents at anyone who attempts to fill it. It isn’t that your explanation is boring - quite the contrary, in fact; Solomon could probably listen to you describing the most mundane or trivial of things on loop for the rest of his life and be perfectly content with it. No, it’s more to do with the fact that this is the first time he’s been home before dark in a long while, and he can’t help but revel in the fact that he can spend time with you like this again. Of course, there’s something wonderful in coming home to be able to collapse into bed beside you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, drifting to sleep as you burrow closer to him even in your sleep, but Solomon can’t run off of that forever - he needs to see you with your eyes open as well, after all. 

“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” You ask as you note the far-off look on your husband’s face. You’re not offended in the slightest by the way he starts at the directed question, evidently guilty, but you are a little puzzled. “Is there something wrong?”

Solomon’s mouth falls open slightly, then shuts again. There’s something about the way you’re looking at him so earnestly that makes his heart stutter like nothing else. Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to this after nearly two thousand years, but it seems that he’s still as weak for you as he was on the very first day of your marriage. “...I suppose I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You always have a lot on your mind,” You counter softly, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Come on, you can tell me.”

He laughs quietly, bringing your linked hands up to his face and gently holding yours to the side of his face; you, in turn, unfurl your fingers from around his and rub his cheek affectionately. After a moment, a fond smile pulling at his lips, Solomon replies, “I’ve… missed you a lot this week.”

You pause in mild surprise, but it quickly turns to endearment as Solomon presses his body even closer to yours. The hand that you’re using to hold your mug of coffee moves to settle on his shoulder as you pull him closer. “Really now? What a coincidence. I’ve missed you lots as well, love.”

He chuckles a little bashfully, his cheeks flushing. It seems that your ability to fluster him hasn’t declined even a bit over the years. He’s still well and truly besotted.

You can’t help but find it rather amusing that, despite already having spent a good hour and a half or so in the living room, bundled so close together in the blankets that you could feel his breath on your skin, the two of you are still nestling so close together now. You suppose it’s the effects of a week with much less contact than usual.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw before pulling back again, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. Solomon exhales softly, pulling his own drink towards him and draining the last of the tea in a single mouthful.

“You know,” He says, setting his empty cup down on the table. “One of my coworkers was asking about you earlier.”

“‘Coworkers’,” You snort at his choice of language, earning a reproachful poke in the side as punishment. “Come on, just admit that they’re your friends.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “One of my friends, then - Mammon, the one that Lucifer’s stringing up all the time.”

“The one with white hair?” You recall, thinking back to the group photo that Simeon had sent you a while back. “He’s the Avatar of Greed, right?”

“That’s the one,” Solomon nods. “Apparently he never noticed that I was married.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him,” You say, giving him a playful nudge. “Honestly, the way you keep your mouth shut, you’d think I was some shameful secret or something.”

Solomon looks scandalised by the very idea - it had only been a little joke, but his eyes flash with such affront that it’s almost as if someone has genuinely called you such a thing. “Of course not! I’d never—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I was joking,” You cut him off before he can get more riled up. Solomon calms down quickly once you set a comforting hand on his knee, though he still looks a little indignant. “I know why you don’t like talking about us much, but really, it’s okay. They’re your friends, aren't they?”

He hesitates, then nods, releasing another deep sigh soon afterwards. “I suppose. There isn’t much I can really do about it at this point anyway… according to Simeon, most of them have somehow figured it out already.”

“They’re probably a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Sol,” You hum, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes for him. “They’re demons, after all. They’ve lived even longer than us.”

“Believe me, they really aren’t.” Solomon shakes his head, a frown pinching at his brow at the very memory of the amount of things that his coworkers have done recently - some of the most notable being Diavolo setting an entire flock of geese free in the courtyard for an ‘experiment’, Levi quite literally throwing himself out of a window just to win a bet against Mammon about who could get down the stairs faster, Asmo causing a stampede in the main hall by dropping and shattering a bottle full of a powerful aphrodisiac potion that became even more powerful once released into the air, and Lucifer accidentally breaking one of Solomon’s favourite cauldrons when he’d transformed into his demon form and inadvertently smacked halfway across the room it with one of his upper wings.

“I’d really love to meet them some day,” You sigh, swirling the contents of your mug around. “They sound like fun.”

“Trust me, the trouble isn’t worth it—” Solomon attempts to reason with you, but he gives up laughably quickly as you pout at him in protest. “Oh, fine. But don’t blame me if you get sick because of the charm again.”

“We don’t have to use the charm,” You shake your head. “Just do a teleportation spell!”

“You know that that’s risky,” Solomon sighs, chucking you under the chin and leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You laugh as he draws back again, a pleased smile rising on his face at your reaction. “We could end up anywhere.”

“You’ve teleported them a bunch of times, though, haven’t you? And you haven’t ended up in Texas or the Sahara Desert any of those times!”

The resemblance to his earlier conversation with Mammon and Simeon is almost uncanny. “That’s different. I was still teleporting them within the Devildom, not across an entire realm barrier… and besides, I can afford the risk with them. You’re a different story.”

You pout again, shoulders dropping in defeat, though it doesn’t escape Solomon’s notice that his sentiment seems to have appeased you at least a little. “...guess we’ll just have to use a transportation talisman, huh…?”

“That’s your only option if you really want to visit, yes.”

You go quiet for a moment or two, nose wrinkling and face scrunching as you think it over. Solomon doesn’t mind the lack of conversation - he entertains himself by studying your features, wondering for perhaps the millionth time how he managed to find someone like you.

Finally, a determined look rising on your face, you nod and proclaim, “Then I’ll do it!”

Solomon cocks his head slightly to the side. He can’t say he’s surprised by your eagerness, but he had expected it to take you longer to make up your mind. He opens his mouth to say something, but tou answer his question before he’s even asked it, a skill that you’d managed to pick up within the first year or so of knowing him.

“I really wanna see what you actually get up to when you work,” You explain, looking a little sheepish. “You’ve had a job there for nearly two years and I’ve never even said a word to the people you work with.”

Solomon laughs. “It isn’t usually a requirement in the workplace. Wear appropriate uniform, bring any equipment you need, introduce your husband to your coworkers within the decade…”

“Still, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least meet them,” You say. “Besides, I want to see Simeon as well. You said he’s working down in the Devildom for a bit as well, didn’t you?”

“Why are you so eager to see him, huh?” Solomon’s tone is light and teasing, so you know not to take him seriously as he puts on an hurt expression. “I’m offended. Your dear husband’s right here and you’re thinking about some angel.”

“Oh, stop it, you,” You shake your head in slightly exasperated amusement as he runs a finger down his cheek in lieu of a tear. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulls an exaggeratedly petulant face and pretends to turn away like an upset child. “Sometimes I feel like you love him more than me.”

“Simeon’s a lovely guy, but you’re still the only guy for me, you doof,” You tell him, tapping fondly at the cheek he’s turned to you with your free hand. Solomon obligingly turns back around to look at you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Why would I marry you and then stay here for two thousand years if you weren't?”

“I guess I always assumed it was out of pity or something,” He jokes in response, leaning forward and briefly brushing his nose against yours. “And, just so you know, you’re the only guy for me as well.”

“I’d better be,” is your lighthearted reply as he pulls away. After a moment, looking at him expectantly, you begin tentatively, “So…?”

He sighs, but gives you a smile nevertheless. “I’ll ask Diavolo. He probably wouldn’t mind if I brought you without asking first, but Lucifer definitely would.”

“What’ll we do if they hate me?” You ask. “Do demons actually eat humans?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” He replies firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, they won’t hate you. I doubt anyone could.”

You laugh and drop your head to rest on his chest. “You’re too nice to me, love.”

Solomon turns to wrap both his arms around your shoulders, setting his chin on the crown of your head. You smile into his jumper, looping your own arms around his waist and pushing yourself closer to him.

“I’m not just being nice. Honestly, [Name], you’re kind of the most perfect man in the universe.”

[dear-mrs-otome]

As someone who can’t read Japanese, could you please spoil Faust’s route? I’m really curious!

I can, sorry this took me awhile to get all down!

I’ll give you a summary of Faust’s route below the cut, so for those zooming past BE WARNED. SPOILERS FOLLOW.

SPOILERS AHOY!

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO HAVE THE WHOLE ROUTE SPOILED IN DETAIL???

I MEAN IT - A GIANT WALL OF TEXT EXISTS BEHIND THIS CUT, ALL SPOILERS…

Faust’s route begins as all of the ‘Act 2’ routes do - just as MC is attempting to return home after her month vacation in the past, the door to the Louvre appears to malfunction and she’s forced to remain in the 19th century until Comte can figure out what is going on.

Life carries on much as usual for her, as she tries to keep her spirits up, when one day in town she stumbles across a church on the edges, presided over by a kindly priest (Faust) who seems impressed by her generosity towards a poor woman he’s given medicine to whose son is suffering from a mysterious epidemic that’s begun circulating the city. One night she attends a party with Comte when a critter of some sort steals her hair ornament. Chasing after it, she winds up in a graveyard, where to her horror she sees a figure digging up a fresh grave. She tries to run, is caught by said figure (Faust), and bitten until she faints. (First CG)

She wakes up in the church from earlier and the kind priest who claims he was merely a Good Samaritan seems willing to help her get home. Soon though it comes to light that she is the woman staying with Comte, and Faust drops his ‘nice’ mask and reveals himself as a vampire - biting her once more to observe the effects and proclaiming he will abduct her to be his new guinea pig, curious about her as a person both from the future and who has been living with vampires.

Waking up in Vlad’s castle now, she meets the Terrible Trio and struggles to deal with her situation now - Faust feeds on her for the purposes of observation again, and she goes on a hunger strike briefly, defiant and unwilling to accept being captive. Only when Faust threatens the other residents of the mansion does she reluctantly settle down, and they butt heads over their wildly different philosophies on life - Faust’s mission to grant humans eternal life, her proclaiming God gives us only that which we can handle, and Faust’s disagreement.

To prove his point he begins bringing her to the church with him disguised as a nun, where she witnesses firsthand the cruelties of fate in ways her 21st century self had never encountered before - children orphaned senselessly, people coming for confession bearing the crushing weight of guilt over their own poverty and misfortune. She begins to realize how she may have been wrong, but she and Faust continue to disagree over their different viewpoints. MC still believes that hope is real and necessary, whereas Faust is a committed cynic.

She slowly comes to lose her fear of the other residents of the castle as well, as they are nothing but kind and welcoming to her, though she still is unsure of what to make of everything and remains defiant.

The arguments between her and Faust come to a head when the son of the woman MC met that very first day outside the church comes around, seeking Faust’s blessing to send him on to the next life and refusing the medicine and help offered him. Faust reacts harshly to the man’s willingness to quietly acquiesce to his fate, to MC’s horror, and when she asks him if he has nothing of hope left Faust assures her it’s long gone. When she spots Napoleon and Sebastian later, she dithers for a bit but eventually tries to call out to them, only to have Faust intercept. Still unsettled from their argument earlier, he reiterates to her that she belongs to him and bites her on the church altar, as if to prove that bad things happen to good people no matter what.

Things are strained between them after that, not helped by MC’s increasing suspicions that the strange rumors of ‘resurrections’ going on around the city in the wake of the disease are somehow Faust’s work - an accusation that clearly wounds Faust upon hearing. She meets a young university student, Alex, who desperately wants to be Faust’s assistant and is studying the epidemic. Days pass as they continue working at the church and the orphanage, until one day the disease strikes even there - and finding Faust’s medication is running out, over his protests and concerns MC volunteers to help him make more, the two of them working day and night together to develop and manufacture enough to save the children.

They’re successful, save for one girl Lina who is still very sick that they bring back to the castle to finish nursing to health. They succeed, but afterwards MC falls ill with the same sickness and collapses...only marginally coherent of a desperate Faust doing all he can to save her life. (2nd CG)

She has time and evidence to rethink some of her assumptions about Faust, realizing that despite his best efforts to crush whatever heart and kindness he has it remains. There’s more to him than just icy logic. And when she asks him about his past he finally tells her some of it - that he was abandoned as a baby, raised in an orphanage by a kindly nun, and that when she fell ill he sold himself into slavery to provide her with money for medicine. It made no difference in the long run though, the woman still died...and Faust remains the cynic when they discuss hope and happiness and how MC still clings to these things.

Rumors abound about Faust’s miraculous work stopping the epidemic at the orphanage, as things return mostly to ‘normal’ for them both, working at the church and such. They’re each grappling with changing feelings for each other, Faust suffering his first bout of bloodlust, when one morning Faust collapses in agony bleeding from his mouth horrifically, falling unconscious for days.

Everyone at the castle is fretting, Faust growing weaker and weaker, as Vlad explains his theory that Faust has altered the timeline too much by stopping the plague at the orphanage and the universe is attempting to set things to right again by erasing him from existence. He claims the same thing has happened to him before when he tries to change world events too drastically - the difference being that as a pureblood he can’t die. Faust, however, can. 

He proposes traveling back in time and attempting to nudge humans here and there, make tiny alterations to the timeline to achieve the same goal of saving the children without the backlash falling on Faust, and MC insists on going along - realizing now that she’s faced with his death, she can’t bear the thought of losing him.

Going through the door in the castle with Vlad, she ends up first back at the mansion shortly after her own disappearance (where she assures Comte she’s doing well, thereby explaining why the mansion wasn’t losing their minds this entire time) and recruiting Comte’s help fiddling with the timeline. Upon the next passage she’s ripped from Vlad and dumped far in the past - where she witnesses firsthand little Johann’s heart and faith breaking upon the death of his beloved mother-figure nun, and then the natural disaster that crushed a town he frequented as a young man. This was the moment that solidified for Faust his determination to fight against God and Fate with all he had, and kicked off his obsession with discovering eternal life. (3rd CG)

After one more timey-wimey meeting with the Past!Faust at the point when they were nursing little Lina, where she offers him some much-needed words of encouragement, MC finally finds herself in the recent-enough past to travel around Paris with Vlad and encourage people to be more aware of the spreading plague. She even urges Alex to be more wary, prompting him to start developing his own medication from notes he’d taken from Faust.

Back in the ‘proper’ time, their efforts seem to perhaps have paid off...they return to find Faust gone, and after searching frantically around the city they find the orphanage has been set aflame on the strength of rumors that the plague spread from there. (As if the universe has manufactured some new tragedy instead for it, she realizes) Faust had gone into the blaze to save the last child, but comes out horrifically burnt and near death.

They take him to the church, where things appear dire...but Faust admits to finally seeing hope and accepting this outcome, just glad that something good has come of it all. MC refuses to accept his death though, and after Faust nearly dies again she cuts herself and he eventually revives. After he recovers, Faust corners her into confessing her feelings for him and admitting his own in return, before they finally consummate their love.

MC returns to the mansion as she had promised Past!Comte she would, happy to see all her friends again. A few days pass before Faust and Charles come to collect her, setting off an amusing set of interactions between the Mansion Boys and the Dastardly Duo, but it culminates in a scene where Faust thanks Comte humbly for his assistance with the timelines and for his consideration of MC. The couple then has a late-night conversation at the church where they’re both working again about the future of their relationship.

In Faust’s dramatic end, he asks MC to accompany him as he returns back to the place of that town that was destroyed, Faust making peace with his feelings surrounding the situation and reiterating his love for MC and how she’s helped him to see hope - before he asks her to help him with a different sort of ‘eternal life’, AKA having babies with him.

In Faust’s romantic end, he explains a bit about what motivates him to take on the role of a priest, and then he takes MC back to the castle where he intends to make love to her - saying that he can’t ever lose her but can’t stomach the thought of anyone other than himself ever biting her so he will have to work all that much harder to achieve his dream of eternal life so that they can continue to thumb their noses at God and Fate for all time together.

------

Even long as this is I’m clearly glossing over things - it’s a very busy route! And it’s complicated by the time travel stuff, which thankfully doesn’t get TOO complicated. If anyone’s interested in hearing my thoughts on Faust himself I’m happy to share, just let me know...I think he’s a fascinating complex character that definitely won’t be for everyone, but I am happy he exists in the IkeVamp cast and glad for this route.

[charliedawn]

Imagine you have been kidnapped and your favorite slashers decide to come to the rescue

It has been a few days now that none of the slashers have seen or heard from you. They are growing more and more worried and nervous by the day. Finally, thanks to his connections, Five succeeds in finding out that you have been kidnapped by your "old friends".

" I feel weird..Why do I feel weird ?"

Five asks himself and takes a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves. He then looks at his wall and stares at it for a while, hesitantly.

" Am I crazy ?"

He looks back at his drink and, after a moment at looking at his reflection in the amber liquid, swallows all of it in one go.

" You know what ? F*ck it all ! I am crazy !"

He then walks towards the wall and starts tearing it apart with his bare hands to get out the object he had hidden in it. An axe.

" It was supposed to be for a special occasion..but oh well !"

He then walks outside to his neighbor's door : Brahms.

He smashes the door to pieces and Brahms immediately gets up. When he sees that it is Five, he almost groans in annoyance, but stops when he starts thinking as to why he would come to him in the middle of the night.

" Y..Y/N ?"

He asks in a hopeful tone, wondering if the short man had finally found something about her whereabouts. Five finally enters his bedroom and whisper shouts.

" Yes, you idiot ! We're going to search for them ! As the police is obviously too dumb to find them themselves !"

Brahms smiles widely behind his mask and quickly grabs his doll before following Five. However, they are walking in the corridor when they spot two very distinctive orange and red head getting out by the window. The two clowns look up to see the two others. They stay still for a moment before smirking at each other knowingly. There is always a moment where crazy people just have this connection, this moment where they don't even need words to communicate.

" Ah ! Guess what ?! One of my escape plans actually works ! Just thought we would go and save Y/N, but looks like we're not the only ones. So..How about we go search for Freddy and Myers and you go find Jason and Sir Sh*tty the clown ?"

Five nods in agreement before running towards the mute's room, while the Clown Brothers run towards Freddy's room. Once all reunited, they get out by Pennywise's exit that was, in fact, a tunnel in the garden of Freddy. (Freddy being of course aware and even helping Pennywise by pretending to garden when he digs) Five, as well as all of the killers find themselves revigorated as soon as they are out, their powers coming back to them. Penny takes a step forward and starts sniffing the air for your scent. He quickly finds and turns his head towards the rest with a wicked smile.

" Let's go find them."

A few hours later :

" Come on Sam ! I don't want to work for you anymore ! I can't keep pretending that what you're doing is right !"

You yell, wishing to reason with him, even though you were already beaten bloody. But, he doesn't listen to you and only slaps you so hard that you see stars.

" Doesn't mean that you are free, Y/N ! Me and the boys will always track you down, wherever you go ! You are a part of our team. You really thought that just by moving away, you could get away from your family ?!"

You glare up at him before spatting angrily.

" You are not my family.."

However, before he could slap you again, kids' creepy laughs fill the room. Sam gnashes his teeths and looks around with nervousness. You can't help but feel a bit apprehensive yourself.

" Well hello.."

Sam almost lets out a scream when he see one of the clowns get out of the dark. He takes a step back and nearly tumbles over a grave from which, another clown appears.

" So, what was the plan, bad boy ? Were you going to hit them hit them hit them until they forgive you before finally bashing their brains out ?!"

Pennywise asks while accompanying his words with demonstrative gestures. Sam's eyes widen and he quickly gets out a gun and starts shooting in every direction. You close your eyes, wishing for him not to shoot you in the process. He almost feels relieved when he opens one eye and sees them gone. However, when he turns towards you, he sees Jason standing protectively in front of you, a bullet that was destined to you lodged in his chest.

" Not a very wise move, my friend. Should have gone for the head. Would have taken him longer to recover.."

Sam quivers in fear as he sees a third clown get out from around a corner. He then yells with tears in his eyes and snort coming out of his nose pathetically.

" Do all your friends wear f*cking clown costumes ?! Is it your new trick to get rid of me, Y/N ?!"

He doesn't see it, but from behind Jason, you smile and reply.

" You never asked what was my job, a**h*le. I am a nurse at St Louis, and looks like my patients are hungry.."

Suddenly, Sam is turned around by Freddy that gives him a nasty grin.

" You're right about that. I'm f*ching starving."

" B..Boys !"

Sam calls for his gang that his supposed to stay on watch, but then, Freddy gets out their heads. He then show them to Sam with mocking concern.

" You're looking for these fellows ? Sorry, the clowns were a little bit hungry on our way here. Thought we would grab a takeaway first."

Freddy starts laughing histerically at his own joke, which makes Sam fall to the floor, white as a sheet.

" Come on..Come to Papa !"

Sam screams so loud that it makes you wince in pain. He then starts crawling backwards, away from Freddy that is still walking forward while laughing maniacally. However, Freddy suddenly disappears and Sam is left with his heart beating a thousand times a minute. He gets up and sprints towards the exit. He opens the door and falls face to face with Michael. Michael stands in the doorway and tilts his head a bit to side while observing the shaking man.

Sam walks backwards, away from the giant. He doesn't even have any voice to scream with anymore. He is scared beyond anything and starts running the other way. He ends up in the same room as you again and sees Five, trying to untie you. He smirks, thinking to have finally found an escape..He takes Five and puts the head of his gun against his head.

" Stay back or I'll kill the kid !"

The group stops abruptly and Sam smiles widely, thinking he won. But then, Five glares up as him and stomps on his foot with such force that Sam screams in pain again.

" Who are you calling "the kid", idiot ?"

Five gets out of his grip and all of the slashers surround him. Suddenly, Michael and Jason raise some knives they had managed to get their hands on in the kitchen and you watch before whispering :

" They always say to watch out for the quiet ones.."

And with that, the die is cast. You can only watch with a morbid fascination as each one of the slashers seem to attack Sam with such coordination. You're impressed. They seem to work so well together. Even the clowns seem to have fun along each other, whereas normally they would be at each other's throats.

When they're finished and Sam is, indeed, very dead..They all turn their heads towards you, blood splattered all over their faces. They are waiting..For what ? You wonder. Suddenly, you stand up and they all seem to try to guess your next move. But, you don't let any emotion take a hold of you and only sigh before taking out a napkin from your pocket. You look at it for a moment before kneeling in front of Brahms and starting to get the blood out of his face gently. He seems to melt into the kind gesture and closes his eyes appreciatively.

" You can't come back to St Louis in this state..It would not be good for you or for me. You need to take a bath. If you want to escape, I won't stop you. Not that I have the power to anyway.."

Of all the reactions you could have had, this one was the least the slashers had expected. They had expected fear, screams..even disgust. But here you were, washing their faces as if they hadn't just killed someone in front of you. Before anyone could stop him, Penny jumps on you and licks your face happily while you start laughing at his impulsive gesture. However, Pennywise appears behind him and drags him away from you by the collar.

" Jeez kid ! You're happy ! We get it ! That doesn't mean you have to drool all over them !"

Suddenly, Jason, Brahms and Michael look at each other in silent agreement before using their massive size to wrap their arms around all of you.

" Hey ! I never agreed to this hugging bullsh*t !"

Freddy yells in disapproval while trying to wiggle his way out. To everyone's surprise, it's Pennywise that answers him.

" Oh, stop complaining, you old dog ! You're enjoying this as much as the rest of us !"

You can hear Freddy grumbling and can imagine him crossing his arms sulkily. But, he doesn't try to deny. You bite you lip in order not to laugh. No matter how much you should hate/be scared/horrified by what they had done, you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

" Let's go home.."

They all nod in agreement and the three mutes free you. You all start walking towards St Louis. Who knows ? Maybe you are crazy too..

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 1

I said a long ways back that I thought the switch from Angel to Spike as Buffy’s primary love interest represented an interesting evolution in the show’s attitude towards—and interrogation of—romanticism, and I finally felt like expanding on what I meant by that. This is very long, very meandering, and not terribly academic or well-edited, but I hope there’s something of interest in it nonetheless. It is about 20,000 words in total, and will discuss, in more or less chronological order, the arc of the show’s attitude towards romanticism as it is embodied in Spike, Angel, Buffy and Buffy’s relationships with both of them. I was going to release it as one long post, but because it’s so long, I figured a series of posts might be more readable. Here’s the first one.

* 

“When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

Both Spike and Angel are at once capital-R Romantic figures, and lower-case romantic interests, and in both cases that Romantic/romantic duality is what makes them such effective avatars for ideas around romanticism. In the case of Angel, the show is aware from the beginning that he is very much a Romantic idea of something. In “Welcome to the Hellmouth” Buffy describes him as “dark” and “gorgeous”, evoking the “tall, dark and handsome” cliche. He’s mysterious. He gives her a necklace and his coat, gestures out of high school romance fiction.* In “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” Giles lampshades the romance of him: “A vampire in love with a Slayer. It’s rather poetic, in a maudlin sort of way.” Initially, Angel is basically designed to be a teenage girl fantasy, and it’s no coincidence that his successors like Edward Cullen or Stefan Salvatore conform to similar tropes.

*(Think of how five seasons later, a vampire will give Dawn his letterman jacket in “All the Way”. It’s hard not to read as a deliberate echo of Angel’s gift in season one. Once again, a vampire makes romantic gestures towards a high school version of “Buffy”, and later turns on her. But more on this much later in the series.)

The difference between Angel and those other, more typical Supernatural Romance love interests however, is that the show ultimately attempts to subvert the romance of him. As part of its commentary on Gothic themes, season two makes Angel more Romantic than ever (the Claddagh, the tormented past), and makes the romance between him and Buffy central to the story in a way it wasn’t in season one. And then, of course, the season tears it all apart. The first time we learn what Angel did to Drusilla it’s horrifying, but still somehow abstract. Something that seems more like it’s meant to contribute to Angel’s dangerous, Byronic image. As in, something to make him more Romantic. And then suddenly it becomes real. Suddenly, it’s something that Angel could do to Buffy, or the people Buffy cares about. It turns out that his darkly romantic aura was not just an aura, but genuinely dark all along.

In turn, Angel’s devastating transformation is a metaphor for broader disillusionment about romantic ideas. It’s less to me about a “guy going bad after sex”, and more about what it means and feels like to have the scales fall from one’s eyes in that sort of situation. As Buffy copes with the fallout of Angel’s transformation, and later is forced to kill him, I see it as being about the tragedy of having to see the world in ways that are less simple, easy, or pretty as one gets older. As Buffy and Giles say in “Lie To Me”:

BUFFY: Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just, like, the more I know, the more confused I get. 

GILES: I believe that's called growing up. 

For more on this, I recommend this livejournal post on “Lie To Me”, which goes into great depth on the way season two frames stories as pretty lies that one needs to look beneath, and how Buffy’s romanticization of Angel symbolizes that.

The whole arc of the season is Buffy’s failure to see the danger presented by Angel. In this opening scene that danger is foreshadowed. More to the point for this essay, Angel goes on to lie to Buffy about having encountered Drusilla. He doesn’t want Buffy to know about the nature of Angelus – which means that his first inclination is to mask the danger he presents to Buffy. This is one episode after Halloween, where Buffy’s romantic fantasies about what Angel wants (a damsel) nearly get her killed. Nor is she completely over those fantasies, as she notes that the mystery woman talking to Angel had a pretty old-fashioned dress. So against the backdrop of Buffy’s fantasies about her dark and mysterious boyfriend we have the truth about what he is, which is quite horrifying.

Season three then takes this to another level, by not just pointing out the darkness of the romance of Angel, but in fact puncturing his romantic image. Instead of emphasizing his dangerousness, as season two did, season three emphasizes his adulthood. It emphasizes the way that Angel is someone Buffy sees in secret, or away from her friends. He’s not integrated with her teenage, high school life, and doesn’t fit with the peppy, high school movie aesthetic that characterizes a lot of season three. By doing this, the writing indicates that at this point in their lives, Buffy and Angel are ultimately incompatible and holding each other back. Regardless of however much they might care for each other, Angel can’t fully appreciate her teenage longings like dances, and college, and having a boyfriend. And Buffy can’t fully appreciate his adult need to find himself on his own terms. By the end of season three, Angel is less of a shadowy, tragic figure, and more just an adult man who needs to finally grow up a bit.

Season three also starts making jokes where the punchline is that Angel isn’t living up to the romantic aesthetic he embodied in seasons one and two. In “Helpless”, for example, he and Buffy have an exchange where he waxes sincerely about wanting to “keep [her heart] safe, to warm it with [his own]” and although Buffy says the sentiment is beautiful, a second later she deadpans: “Or taken literally, incredibly gross.” To which Angel replies, “I was just thinking that, too.” Or in “Graduation Day, Part 1”, Angel trips on a doorway instead of making a silent entrance and Buffy again deadpans: “Stealthy.” Angel’s romance slips at moments when Buffy herself is feeling weak, either because she has lost her Slayer powers, or she’s investigating the scene of her sister Slayer’s crime. Her Romantic Slayer half is betraying her, and her romantic girlish half is feeling insecure. This is echoed by the reminder that Angel is no longer a straightforward fantasy man--or a terrifying, larger-than-life villain--but a guy who is sometimes both verbally and physically inelegant. 

(Notice how one of the few times season two makes similar jokes about Angel it’s in “Lie to Me”, the very same episode that begins to peel off the layers of deceptions and unknowns about him. Angel slumps around Willow’s bedroom and jokes about “honing [his] brooding skills”, he insists that the vampire wannabes know nothing about vampires right before a guy walks by wearing his exact outfit, and Xander runs color commentary, saying “you’re not wrong” after each of Ford’s observations. In “Lie to Me” one of Angel’s hidden faces is his dangerousness, yes. But another hidden face is simply his human awkwardness.)

There’s an interesting Slayage piece by Elizabeth Gilliland that discusses the idea of Angel as a Gothic double for Buffy, specifically connecting him to the story of Jekyll and Hyde. It argues that Angel’s split identities represent Buffy’s fears that her human and Slayer halves are irreconcilable, and she cannot fully control either half. In season three, the fact that Buffy and Angel must continuously resist a loss of control with each other, and are treated as romantically incompatible, reflects this fear. 

In Season Three, replete with various factors in Buffy’s life that threaten to put her role as Slayer and girl into imbalance once more [...] Angel once again returns [...]. The season culminates in an attempted attack on Buffy’s classmates during graduation, which essentially forces her to “out” herself to her community and combine her roles as Slayer and daughter, classmate, and friend for the first time publicly (“Graduation Day: Part 2” 3.22). The worst has happened: her secret has been revealed, the entire school knows about both of her personas, and she has not only survived, but emerged with a stronger sense of self [...] Buffy has conquered her first Gothic fear, and proven to herself that she can not only exercise control over both dualities of her persona, but allow them to peacefully co-exist. Thus, Angel’s continuing struggle with Angelus can no longer act as her shadow, and he literally and metaphorically leaves her to continue the rest of her journey.

It’s an interpretation I mostly agree with, and see a lot of evidence for. But in keeping with the focus of this series, I think you could also read Angel as embodying a duality between the romantic and the unromantic. In this view, Buffy’s struggle between her human and her Slayer halves is not just a struggle between personas, but a struggle to see the world correctly. In season one, it’s not Angel that revives Buffy in “Prophecy Girl”, because Angel is a vampire trope just like the Master. He cannot help her, because he is exactly the kind of traditional romantic concept--like a candle-lit cavern, an ancient Nosferatu-looking vampire, or a Chosen Hero duty--that Buffy is trying to escape. In season two, loss of control is specifically associated with passion, romance, and romanticism. Buffy’s human half longs for the romantic, but her Slayer half, and Angel’s vampire half, prove that sometimes the romantic is something dangerous and violent. The fact that Buffy’s Slayer identity and Angel’s Angelus identity both end up being outed by the end of the season (especially to Joyce, a figure of Buffy’s human home life), echoes Buffy’s loss of innocence. Season three then continues this suspicion of passion. Buffy fears that like Faith, enjoying the violence and power and desire of being a Slayer, means that she will go down a dark path. She also fears that indulging in her sexual and romantic desire for Angel will unleash Angelus. To some extent, these fears are even borne out, given that her love for Angel results in her attempted murder of Faith, and near death at Angel’s hands. But to some extent they also aren’t, given that she, Faith and Angel all live. 

To me, what really gets resolved at the end of season three is not quite the issue of Buffy’s human and Slayer halves, given that Buffy will continue to struggle with that duality until the end of the show. Rather, what gets resolved is the need for binaries. Binaries are romantic things. When Giles gives his speech to Buffy at the end of “Lie To Me”, it is the language of binaries that he uses:

GILES: Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after. 

BUFFY: Liar.

In season three, Buffy thinks she must resist both Faith and Angel. She thinks she can only be either a human girl or a Slayer leader. Many plots in season three have to do with the danger of binaries, whether that’s the witch-hunting parents in “Gingerbread”, Willow dealing with her vampire self in “Doppelgangland”, the various alter-egos in “Beauty and the Beasts”, or Cordy choosing a Buffy-less world in “The Wish”. And no character in the Buffyverse embodies the concept of binaries so starkly as Angel does. Thus by the end of season three, Buffy collapses the binaries within herself by merging the human and Slayer parts of her life, as Gilliland observes, and taking on Faith’s traits. She acknowledges her shadow by kissing her tenderly on the forehead, and bids farewell to the illusions and binaries that Angel embodies. Buffy is leaving that part of her life behind, and starting a new chapter where she can no longer split either the world, or herself, into any one thing or another.

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

[itsagrimm]

Imperial!Tech 3

Summary: Tech's chip activated instead of Crosshairs so Tech is now an imperial commander tasked to serve the Empire at any cost. But is he willing to do so? And are you, dear Y/N as member of the experimental Elite Squad, willing to follow any order your commander Tech gives?

CN: self-harm, talk of death murder and war crimes, stalker behaviour, soldier life in a fascist state, power imbalance, overreaching behaviour, structural violence, sexually predatory behaviour and the likes, sensual overload, insomnia, references of drug abuse, depression and mental health issues, trauma

Imperial!tech X they*them Y/N reader, afab

Thanks a lot to @eyecandyeoz for your insight, feedback and thoughts. Check out their lovely blog!

I am sorry it took me so long. next part will be faster. I already started writing it.

And feel free to criticise especially concerning my use of CN and if the reader perspective is inclusive for you.

2800 words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Tech collapsed into the chair as soon as Y/N had left the room. He was tired, so tired. He leaned back and put on his glasses. Him taking off his visual aids around Y/N was a degree of trust Tech rarely allowed. He was nearly blind without his glasses and the Kaminoans had considered terminating him for that. Tech was sure Y/N did not even know how much he had surrendered himself to Y/N and their touch. Their oh so soft touch. The memory of it was still fresh on his skin. It raced through is mind which for once was craving to match his body with the need to slow down and take a rest.

But it didn’t.

Y/N was pleasant to be around. Their touch was careful and considered. Only his brothers used to treat him like his. – His brothers, the former clone force 99, had left him behind after they refused to comply with order 66. Due to their divergence the inhibitor chip had not worked while he, Tech, had tried to kill the Jedi. – He had tried to kill a child. – The effect of the inhibitor chip was decreasing. His wound received on Bracca had an 84,743 % chance of damaging the inhibitor chip. But he should investigate further and get the chip out to stop any possible interference with his superior thought process. - Y/N was not aware of the inhibitor chips. He felt the need to tell them. Why? – The Havoc Marauder had not been mentioned on the imperial comm chatter for a while. – Echo was likely to take care of the ship now. – He should get some sustenance. He felt hunger. – Y/N – The Empire expected a degree of loyalty, uniformity, and compliance he was unsure he could deliver for long considering his diverging mind. – what would Hunter do? – the kaminoan proverb “yn’ja tha vaí m°O” was untranslatable into Basic but could be understood in Sit Bisti as “it needs tö be döne för the betterment öf äll”- The Empire was unlikely to grant him the freedom to find his brothers or in fact any freedom. – The canteen might serve Tiingilar tonight – He was a child slave destined to die in approximately 34,6 standard yearly rotations from old age if not sooner. – maybe the canteen will serve uj’alayi too. – Does Y/N speak Mando’an? He should enquire. – Of course, there will be no uj’alayi today. The Kaminoans did not allow sweet foods. – Y/N – How did the atmospheric controls work that ensured breathable air even for the highest floors of coruscanti buildings? - He knew why his brothers left him behind, but why did it feel so painful. – The empire was likely to kill him if he out served his usefulness for them. - He had tried to kill a child. He had killed several children on Onderon. How could he live with that? How could-

Tech forced his thoughts to stop by digging his fingers into his bloody scar.

The sharp pain felt soothing.

“Let’s consider making a list of the most pressing tasks for now.”

He starred at the ceiling.

“The Empire. It is the closest threat to my demise, but it can be my salvation if I am useful. Am I willing and capable to do that?”

His head started spinning again just at the thought of killing another child for the Empire. And yet serving the Empire gave him purpose he wasn’t sure he could muster on his own.

“Where are my brothers? How are they? How do I feel about them?”

Another unpleasant wave of thoughts and feelings washed over Tech before he continued.

“What is with the inhibitor chip inside my head?”

He nodded to himself. That was a rational and containable problem with fixed variables and clear answers. He felt comfortable with that question, pushing aside all the things he might have done due to being under the chips influence.

Only one question was left now.

“Why do I enjoy Y/N presence?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ryloth had a warm and dusty climate during daytime. Y/N felt sweat dripping under the dark armour. The elite squad, including a new ES-03, was ordered to stand close by to Admiral Rampart, the highest imperial officer on Ryloth. And so, they had spent the last rotations following the Admiral around, doing tedious security work and presenting themselves like the Admirals favourite guard dogs to a public very much disliking their military presence. For once, even commander Tech looked annoyed about their not spec-ops appropriate services.

Today they were on the outlook. The Admiral wanted them scanning a large crowd for troublemakers and resistance fighters during a public announcement. Y/N couldn’t blame them. The Twi’lek of Ryloth had spent years fighting for their independence and spilled an ocean of blood on the dusty planet’s surface only to face an Empire now. Half a life ago Y/N would have hated themselves for being a soldier in service of a suppressing ruler. But now it was paid work.

“ES-01?”, Commander Tech brought Y/N back from their thoughts

“I am in position before the crowd.”

“ES-02?”

“Yes sir, I am on the building as you ordered.”

“ES-03?”

“Any nonimperial transmissions are being blocked now.”

“ES-04?”

“The war hawk is ready for take-off in case we need it.”

“Good. Do you register any noteworthy activity?

Y/N gazed through the crowd. They were mostly Twi’lek, waiting to hear from their leaders. All of them were in civilian clothing, none came with visible weapons.

“I can’t spot anything, sir.”

Tech said nothing. But Y/N could hear him type something.

“Analysing previous rebel fighter behaviour and strategies in similar situations they are likely to appear at these coordinates within the crowd today. I am sending you a list for you to especially pay attention to, ONCE.”, he finally said using the moniker the elite squad had given Y/N.

“Yes sir.”

Y/N looked at their holopad and started checking the coordinates commander Tech had calculated. At entry four they spotted their targets.

“Commander. I have a visual about 40 meters from my position, 10 o’clock. There are two fighters. Twi’lek. One female and one male passing. Shade of blue and orange.”

A moment everyone was silent.

“Confirmed.”, ES-02 stated.

Another moment passed.

“Observe them for now. Stay alert.”, Tech ordered before ending the transmission.

High above the Twi’lek senator started to talk. Y/N could not remember his name and paid little attention to his words. Unlike the Twi’lek.

“They are not happy.”, ES-02 stated flatly.

“Yeah thanks, I would not have noticed without you.”

“Always a pleasure to help out, ONCE.”

ES-02 was right. The crowd was angry. The imperial presence, the empty words of some disaffected politician, the fresh memories of the clone war. It was no surprise that the Twi’lek called out for their resistance leaders to speak.

“We want Syndulla! We want Syndulla!”, the crowd chanted.

A different voice from above started speaking. The crowd calmed down, not entirely happy but at least not a raging mob.

“At least we will not have to gun them down, now.”, ES-02 mumbled with a bitter voice.

“Would you really do that, two?”

“You know what they say, good soldiers follow orders, ONCE. And I intend to be one. Especially when I’m getting paid for it.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

Rampart was an asshole. He was a smug little administrator, willing to lie, back-stab and sacrifice whatever needed to achieve his goals. Rampart was the perfect general to handle a loaded situation like the one on Ryloth. And he was no fool.

Y/N hat noticed that he had kept both commander Tech and Howzer, the commanding clone trooper in charge of the regular clone troopers on Ryloth, close. A strategic move. Spec-ops commandos like the elite squad and regular commandos were in constant competition and mistrust to each other. Should one commander not deliver or even consider treason the other would interfere. And Rampart would always end up on the winning side of their clone infighting.

Y/N could here their arguing inside the office.

Commander Tech had ordered for Y/N to wait outside the office for new orders.

More arguing from the office was audible until finally Ramparts voice cut their bickering short.

The door opened and Howzer left. His expression was that of a practised reserved solider hiding his worries.

The door opened again, and commander Tech stepped outside of Ramparts office.

He looked tense.

Instead of a greeting or an order he just started walking. They followed him.

“Clone force 99 is here. But we are kept on a short leash. As always.”, Tech stated, “It is implausible to not use the best tools possible when confronted with a problem. Howzers troopers will not be able to beat them if necessary. Just like they won’t be able or unwilling to beat the Twi’lek should the need arise.”

Since Kamino the commander had started to share more of his thoughts with Y/N. All they had left to do was to listen and ask the right questions.

“Sir, you think Howzer will commit subordination?”

“There is a possibility of him and his men disagreeing with the new imperial leadership and it’s methods. Howzers unit has fought alongside the Twi’leks the past years. Bounds forged in the trenches can be stronger than loyalty to an administrator from Coruscant. But I require further data to assess the likelihood of treason.”

“What about clone force 99?”

“Their abilities and erratic strategies will be a challenge should we … no, should I have to face them.”

“So, we did not get the order to hunt them down?”

“No. Not yet.”

“And yet you already imply them as of importance.”

“It would be a grave strategic mistake to dismiss their presence.”

“So, what is the elite squad going to do about them? What are your orders, sir?”

Tech paused and adjusted his glasses.

“We are going to do nothing.”

“Sir!?”

“Don’t.” There was a warning in his voice. A signal to Y/N not to cross a line, invisible yet perceptible. He was after all a commander and Y/N just a soldier.

“I am sorry. I overstepped. You are in charge.”

He turned, stepped away and looked at Y/N. His eyes scrutinized them like a scientist inspecting a rare specimen of remarkable value.

They shivered.

His gaze was intriguing. It was painful to feel on display like that. And yet it was nearly intimate to be studied by Tech. Unsure if he would finally hit Y/N for their countless discretions or if he just contemplated their objections.

Finally, Tech nodded appeased and continued his walking without any further talk.

“What do you want us to do now, sir?”

Tech stopped.

“What do I want you to do now?”, Tech repeated as if the question had a different meaning to him than it had to Y/N.

He took out his holopad only to put it away again. He cleared his throat.

“I need you to stay alert. The situation is complicated. For now, get some sleep. The chances are below 4,65 % that there will be a significant development within the next two hours. After that I except the elite squad to be combat ready.”

“Yes sir.”

XXXXXXXXX

The Refresher room was empty. Most clones avoided the elite squad, and all the other members of their unit were taking a nap before the night shift which left Y/N to have the large washroom for themselves.

They signed.

Taking a shower and having some alone time to think and feel before finally taking a rest was what they needed.

Y/N started to strip out of the armour.

First, they took of the helmet, then the vambraces and shin guards before getting the shoulder pieces and lifting the heavy breast armour off before finally getting out of the abdomen armour. The black katarn fell to the floor, making loud echoing noises.

Y/N didn’t care. No one was to correct them on their improper handling of equipment here.

And as much as the armour was a useful necessity, it was a heavy burden in more than one way.

Their blacks followed and soon Y/N was standing under the refresher, naked and alone.

The water was hot and painful.

It was a welcome distraction to all the feelings of … well what exactly?

Y/N felt tears running down their face.

No, no, no. It’s just the refresher.

An uptight sob escaped Y/Ns throat. It was all so different from what they imagined. They had entered imperial service for the payment during a desperate time. And ended up witnessing murder after murder, committing murder.

Today they could have become accomplices to killing a crowd of innocent Twi’leks. And Y/N knew that they would have complied with the order to open fire on the civilians if given. How could they not? Surrounded by troopers like them, ordered around by heartless and calculating commanders.

Would Tech give a killing order like this?

Was he that heartless?

He had done so before.

He had killed so many times before their eyes and yet a piece of Y/N refused to see him as a murderer. In fact, they felt shameful about feeling and thinking about Tech – about their commanding officer – at all.

Y/N stopped fighting the tears and cried out loud.

Nobody would know about this.

Nobody would know about their doubt and vulnerability.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As always sleep had been an unwilling friend to visit Tech. With a sigh he gave up and got up from the cot. As always, his mind was racing. He had tried the breathing techniques Crosshair taught him after a particular long stretch of insomnia, but it didn’t work.

And Tech wasn’t in the mood to experiment with the vast collection of sedatives to force his body to sleep right before possibly facing his brothers and definitely meeting admiral Rampart soon.

Work it was then.

His holopad listed only unchallenging administrative tasks.

The new Shuttle was in top shape.

His weapons were cleaned.

Tech had nothing to keep is overthinking brain in check.

Kriff, his life really was miserable. A never-ending effort to bringing his spiralling mind some peace.

A notification came in.

What a blessing.

Tech looked at the holopad again. It was just a reminder to check on his subordinates, to listen in on their private talks and vital signs.

The order from Imperial Command was an uncomfortable task but it was the best he had to do right now. And listing in on some snoring was better than listening to the elite squads talk like last time. At least it felt less overreaching.

He started with ES-04 and workout down from there. Four was in deep slumber, nothing of interest to note. ES-03 was still new and his sleep was restless, a few murmurs about his home planet and family escaped his lips. ES-02 was dreaming. His heartrate was accelerated. Tech turned his observation of, not interested in the rutting sounds of ES-02.

ES-01 was left. ONCE. Y/N. The thought of peeping into their private life was not only uncomfortable, but it also felt violent to strip Y/N of their peace and privacy.

And yet, Y/N was the only one Tech WANTED to know more about. He felt his desire to learn more about Y/N like a physical need, an addicting obsession Tech knew he needed to be careful with not to indulge.

Was their slumber peaceful and sweet?

Did they have dreams about home?

Or did they fight their nightmares in sleep just like they did awake?

He swallowed.

He was just following an order.

He will do nothing more.

He was just a good soldier.

Y/N wasn’t asleep. Their bucket was off and there were no vital signs coming of them. But the acoustic signal was working.

Y/N was somewhere with a lot of echoes and running water.

Tech felt himself blushing and getting hot.

They were in the shower.

It felt so right to listen in on Y/N. Tech felt bad about it.

The thought of water running down their bare and naked body made Techs mind slow like nothing ever before. The pleasure of a calm mind made him groan.

He hesitated. This was not okay. He shouldn’t listen. He shouldn’t imagine a subordinate like that. He hated that he had to. He hated that the Empire gave him order to do so. But more than that he hated himself for following that order so willingly.

He reached for the off button on his holopad.

A sob.

Was that Y/N? Were they crying?

Tech’s mind went from zero into overdrive. He needed to know who or whatever made you feel like crying. He would find out. And he would remove whatever it was from your life.

Part 4

[anxious-allie-ren]

I couldn't help myself from posting the next chapter already. I'm just too excited about this story and sharing it with you all! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter as well! It's probably my favorite thing I've written so far.

A few trigger warnings for this chapter: Violence, death, and childhood trauma.

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Erota

Your majesty.

The invitation had arrived at his castle months ago. It sat open on his desk with no response for three weeks. He stares down at it as he finishes putting on his attire for the evening. It was a last minute decision to go. He still wasn't confident in such a decision, but it was too late to go back on it now. His aunt and uncle would be expecting him.

Ben had been a quiet boy. Growing up on the palace grounds was very secluded. High society members visited the King and Queen of Chandrila often. Balls, banquets, and glamorous events took place nearly every fortnight. But it was rare a child would accompany their parents. It was even rarer that Ben was allowed to attend such events.

His father was a strict man. He had married into power, Queen Leia taking control of the kingdom after her father had passed. He was anointed king soon after their marriage and took on numerous responsibilities. Most notable being the military and war plans. He was a courageous soldier, fighting in many of Chandrila's most notable wars. This tough exterior and pride carried into his parenting. Han pushed Ben to be just like him. He was to be strong, both physically and mentally. Any sign of emotion was seen as a weakness.

When Ben was just a boy, no older than four years of age, he had attended a hunting trip with his father and a few other noblemen. He kept to himself as he followed the men deep into the woods. He struggled to carry his bow and arrow, the weapon still larger than him. He observed the men bantering and preparing weapons of their own. He was much too young to understand what was to happen on this trip. But he would soon find out.

The group was stopped for a break within a small clearing. The men chugged bitter wine from their flasks and exchanged raunchy jokes. Ben was too busy watching a brilliantly blue butterfly floating about to absorb their words. He is ripped from his peaceful moment as his father quickly grabs his own weapon near his feet.

"Look across the clearing there, men. We've got a large one!"

Ben follows his fathers line of sight to a marvelous buck grazing the meadow in the distance. He was immediately taken with the animal. He had wooden toys of woodland animals just like it. A smile spread across his face as he watched the buck chew on blades of grass, its long antlers sat on his head like a crown. It reminded him of the crown his father was wearing now. Ben turns to look upon it just as his father pulls back the arrow and releases it. The buck is speared in the chest, just inches from its heart. It collapses in the grass, too stunned to take off. Han yells out in frustration.

"Motherfucker! That was a clear fucking shot!"

Ben's eyes water as he watches the buck writhed in pain, releasing wails that cut through the calm woods. Han looks to Ben and sees the tears trail down his chubby little cheeks. He rips his dagger from his boot and grabs Ben by the back of his collar, dragging him towards the wounded animal. Ben cries out in protest, trying to wriggle from his father's grasp.

"No father! I don't want to go near it!"

Han stops in front of the animal, shoving Ben in front of him and forcing the dagger into his tiny hands.

"Finish him off, boy. End his suffering."

Ben shakes his head, tears still falling from his eyes. He looks from the buck and back to the dagger. Blood is flowing from where it was punctured, creating a pool near his feet.

Ben sniffles and starts to back away. He lets out a small whimper and cries out, "I can't father! It was good! It did nothing wrong!"

Han growls in anger and pushes Ben closer to the animal.

"Do it, Ben! You need to stop being so fucking weak! Good or bad doesn't matter when you're facing another man's sword. All that matters is who comes out of the battle alive."

"But this isn't a battle! It's just an animal!"

Han's anger finally boils over. He grabs Ben's hand, forcing the dagger into his little fist and shoves it through the buck's heart. Ben screams in horror and fear as blood splatters onto his arms and chest. Han releases his grip on his hand, yanking out the dagger and wiping it on his pant leg.

"This kingdom has no use for a sensitive, spineless king. Toughen up, Benjamin or you will fail."

That moment had traumatized him. His father's words sunk into his soul, like a rock sinking to the bottom of the sea. He came back from that trip a bit hardened. As he grew, he continued to collect bricks of trauma, adding them slowly to the wall he hides behind. His fortress was solidified the day his parents passed.

He never got along with his father. His relationship with his mother wasn't good either. When he was an infant, Leia doted on him. She took on the responsibility of caring for him by herself, leaving her other duties to her advisors. She spent as much time with him as possible. But when Ben was about the age of three, she seemed to abandon him. Leia brought on nannies and wet nurses to care for him.

Leia was brought up as an independent, able lady. During her time in the ton, she was one of the most desired debutantes. But by the end of the season, she had chosen Lord Han Solo, the son of a Baron in Chandra. He was below her in status, but she was so enamored with him that they married quickly after meeting. Ben was born just ten months into their marriage. He provided Chandrila with its sought after heir. But a spare would still be needed in the event that tragedy were to strike. Leia tried desperately for another child, but nothing seemed to stick. She went as far as to bring in witch doctors and herbalists in hopes of success. The spare never came and the stress weighed on her greatly. The pain became too much to bear.

Leia returned to her duties and never spoke of children again. She distanced herself from the one she had as some way to cope with her failure. Seeing her living child grow only reminded her what she was lacking. They would remain separated for the rest of her life, only seeing each other at events.

Ben was only fifteen years old when his parents died. The king and queen were travelling to Chandrakant for a meeting with the Earl to discuss funding when they were attacked. Soldiers from a neighboring kingdom ambushed their carriage during the night. They were found in the morning by merchants traveling along that path. When their bodies were brought back to Chandrila and laid to rest, Ben was crowned as king.

During his coronation, he was given the choice to take on a reign name or keep his own. Both his parents had kept their names during their rule. His grandparents had as well. But he made the decision that day to let his past die along with his family. He would take on a new name and bring on a new era for Chandrila. From that day on he was formally known as His Majesty, King Kylo Ren of Chandrila.

Kylo had been living a secluded life for many years at this point. He preferred to stay introverted, doing what he had to for his kingdom and nothing more. The ballroom that was once filled with balls and galas had been retired. An event had not been held at the palace since his parents were alive. Meetings with nobility took place in the throne room. He did not travel. He did not leave the palace grounds.

But Kylo has now come of age, surpassed it by a few years even. His advisors were now beginning to push the idea of marriage on him. A heir and spare would be needed for the succession. Kylo simply brushed off their pestering questions during court. He would take a wife when he was good and ready.

But finding a wife meant leaving the grounds to search. This meant he must attend the events of the ton. Kylo had absolutely no interest in stepping foot in such frivolous festivities. When he decided it was time, he would simply have his advisor pick a lady for him. It's not as if the marriage would ever be anything more than a societal alliance. A way for both notable families to gain from the prospect. The notion of love was not even on Kylo's mind. He had lacked it all his life, never experiencing it to know what he was missing. A marriage and creating an heir would become another royal duty for him to fulfill.

He couldn't deny that he was shocked when the invitation was brought to him in his den. The King and Queen of Corellia had invited him to the first banquet of the season. It was to be held at their summer estate in the countryside of Corellia. He hadn't been there since he was a small boy.

During the nice summer months when the air was humid and the sun stayed in the sky long past his bedtime, his family went to visit the King and Queen. Uncle Luke was his mother's twin brother. They had both been raised in Chandrila and had been very close most of their lives. When they both came of age, it was decided that Chandrila would divide into two kingdoms. One for Princess Leia to rule, and one for Prince Luke. This is how the kingdom of Corellia was created. Ever since, Uncle Luke has ruled those territories.

Kylo had been fond of him when he was young. But when his parents passed and the responsibility of Chandrila was thrusted upon him, Uncle Luke never came to help. He didn't attend their burials. He didn't assist the young boy in the transition. He too, had abandoned him.

He realized on one late night, weeks after the invitation had arrived, that this was some sort of olive branch. A way from Luke to worm his way into Kylo's good graces. But this would not be enough for him. He wanted answers. He wanted justice. Overall, he wanted revenge. So he decided then to accept the invitation. Kylo would attend this banquet and get what he deserved.

But all those plans were put on hold the moment your name was announced to the ton.

Kylo had arrived about an hour ago. He entered through a back passage he remembered as a child, so as to not draw attention to his arrival. He had taken a glass of champagne off a passing tray and stood on the outskirts of the crowd. Young ladies gawked and whispered about him, giggling amongst one another. He paid them no mind, he was on a mission and he intended on completing it.

He was slowly making his way towards the back of the ballroom where his uncle sat when your arrival had been announced. He took no notice of it initially. But he stopped in his tracks as he got a glimpse of you through the crowd. Your deep red dress stood out against the pastels surrounding him. You were delicate in your motions, curtsying before your king and waiting for his command. He watched as Luke approached you, his uncle clearly as enamored with you as he was. Everyone in the room could hear his words as he spoke to you. Singing praises and compliments that undoubtedly made you beam with pride.

Your father had led you away after your interaction with the king. Kylo lost track of you as a group of gentlemen approached him to exchange pleasantries. He did his best to be polite, not wanting to draw more attention to himself than he clearly already had. He again tried to make his way through the crowd, only this time he was in search of you.

A petite young woman appeared in front of him before he could get his eyes on you.

She had shiny black hair, pinned up with elegant pins. Her dress was a nauseating pastel green and her jewelry constantly caught the light, nearly making him squint to look at her. She presented her hand to him and gave him a toothy smile.

"Hello, your grace. My name is Charlotte Ventress, the daughter of Lord and Lady Ventress. I saw you standing here all alone and felt so compelled to introduce myself."

Kylo nearly cringes from her introduction. Debutantes we're never meant to approach gentlemen. In fact it was the other way around. Her forwardness was immediately a turn off. It's unlikely he would have been interested in her, if he hadn't already been so taken by you. Kylo clears his throat and takes her hand, giving it a gentle shake.

"Hello, Miss Ventress. I'm humbled by your need for introduction, but I'm afraid you're using the wrong titles."

Charlotte looks at him confused, an eyebrow raising at his statement.

"Is that so? Well, then what title should I be using exactly?"

Her words were laced with attitude and sarcasm. Kylo smirked to himself, looking down at his pristine, shiny dress shoes. Did he look anything less than a king? He figured his attire would have given his status away, that's why he chose not to wear his crown. By her tone, he can only assume she thinks he's below her.

"The correct title would be your majesty, miss."

At this she tries to hold back a chuckle, placing her hand over her mouth to hide her amusement. Charlotte places a hand on her hip, her posture becoming more relaxed now. She thinks he's joking.

"Your majesty? Sir, I'm pretty sure the only royalty in this room is sitting over there."

She nods her head towards the back of the room, motioning to the thrones where his aunt and uncle are sat. Oh this poor girl has no clue.

"I believe you're referring to my aunt and uncle. I'm King Kylo of Chandrila, King Luke's nephew."

He watches as the recognition flies across her features. Eyes going wide and eyebrows raising in surprise. Charlotte immediately stands back up, making a poor attempt at presenting herself as dignified. It was much too late for that now.

"Oh, you're majesty! I'm so sorry for my lapse in judgement. How silly of me."

Kylo holds back his eye roll. Just another young woman fluttering her lashes at him for his titles. He nods to her and finishes off his champagne.

"Right, of course. You must excuse me, it seems my glass is empty."

With that he walks away from her, back on his pursuit to find where you'd gone. He comes to the outskirts of the dance floor, watching as lords and ladies waltz around in circles. A waiter begins to pass by and he is quick to place his empty flute on their tray.

Kylo stands in a relaxed position, hands clasped behind his back, as he watches the couples in front of him. He raises his eyes from the dance floor for a moment, hoping to spot your crimson colored dress amongst the crowd. That's when Kylo locks eyes with you from across the room. He takes in your features, admiring your beauty. He admittedly had very little experience with women. It was a rare occasion for him to speak with them. His interaction mostly took place with the ladies in court. All of them married and much older than him.

Kylo finally understood his uncle's words to you earlier. You held his intense gaze, allowing him to see the secrets held within your eyes. He felt like he was stuck in place, frozen in time with just your look. The moment ended abruptly as a ginger haired man stepped in front of you, blocking his view of you and cutting off your eye contact.

He instantly felt possessive. Kylo could see your discomfort through your body language. He kept watch from the side of the dance floor as you took the man's arm and joined him for the next song. He wanted your full attention.

Kylo decided then that he needed more of you. He wanted to know you, needed to know you. If joining the ton and surviving this season was what he had to do to make that happen, then so be it.

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Poor baby Kylo! How are we feeling about Kylo's perspective? I'm hoping to include his view of things very often in this story. Please let me know what you think!

Love,

Allie