#or violence serves as a stand in for affection

[thefallofruins]

“𝑨𝑭𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑴”— [𝑹𝒀𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑺𝑼𝑲𝑼𝑵𝑨]

Synopsis — being Sukuna’s favourite subjects you to relentless bullying. Sukuna reminds you of your place. As his Queen.

Minors DNI Requested by anon. Part of Sukuna x concubine! reader series

Tw: smut, mentions of multiple orgasms, belly bulging, passing out, violence and bloodshed (it’s Sukuna, duh)

Sukuna is a completely different man the day he sees your tears. Ordinarily, he would have laughed at the sight of a human crying, it seems to annoying pathetic when they do so— a sign of weakness, a sign of helplessness.

But not you, no, none of these rules apply to you. You are exempted from it, he doesn’t know why, but the sight of you crying fills him with rage. Maybe because you were his, his property, his precious concubine.

“T-They said that you’ll… discard me off someday.” You sob. The cruel and neglected concubines, though envious, had spoken the truth. He had done that to a lot of others. They held no meaning to him.

But you? You’ve grown too attached. But how could you not? How could you not when this absolute monster, this terrifying being had given you everything the world hadn’t? Affection, pleasure, love?

He had no value of lives that were of no use to him. If they served him no purpose, they would meet death. But how could he discard you? You, who belongs to him, and rightfully so?

“I hold no such intentions.” His voice is stern, he wants to rip those vile wenches apart for causing you this distress. “You…” he lifts your face, squishing your red hued cheeks “…Are mine. I don’t intend on discarding you for this eternity.”

His voice is a low growl as his grip tightens. “You are mine. For this life and the many more to come.”

He lifts you by your arm using his other hand, crouching down to your height. “Do you understand? Only you have the privilege of having me. Not those insects, and you say I’ll abandon you?”

His fingers play with the obi of your loosely held kimono, eliciting a gasp out of you. He buries his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling your scent. “To abandon you will be an act of utter foolishness, and I am no fool.”

He presses a soft kiss to your neck, followed by another on a lower spot. Your kimono slides off your shoulders and onto the ground below.

“Mine.” He growls into your ear, a hand moving to your breast, fitting perfectly into his hands and he kneads it. His other hand finds your cunt, pressing upon the sensitive nub and causing you to gasp softly.

“M-My lord..”

Your sweet voice only gives him a reason to proceed further, pads of his fingers prodding upon your entrance, your juices slowly flowing onto his fingers and he teases your entrance.

“I have made you the sole object of my pleasure and affection…” he says, hearing your sweet noises as he plays with your clit. “…and you dare insinuate that I will abandon you?”

Your wetness flows down his fingers. He knew exactly where to touch you, something he wouldn’t even try to do to the others.

“I’m sorry, m-my lord..” you speak between soft moans. His words filling you with such great pride. He had so excellently removed the doubts plaguing your mind. “I w-won’t assume such trivial things again—”

He chuckles, slowing down his movements to slow circles around your clit. “Mmh— my lord, p-please forgive me.”

A deep chuckle escapes him again, as he speaks, “that I will. Now lay down.”

Without a moment to waste, you do, skin shining under the pale moonlight as you lay on his bed, legs as he strips off his own clothes, his cock standing hard, drops of precum beaded at the tip. He teases your entrance with it, causing you to groan.

“P-Please, my lord…” you whimper, causing him to chuckle again. “Very well.” He answers your plea, slowly entering your tight cunt that welcomes the entire girth he slowly pushes into you. You gasp as you feel the tip nudge your cervix— he was too big, but you always took him so well.

“So tight.” He groans, slowly bringing himself to thrust in and out of your tight heat. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, my lord!” Your moan as he fastens in his pace, hands wrapping around his neck. He is merciless in pounding into your cunt, nudging your cervix till your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin.

“Look at you.” He chuckles darkly. “You’re truly mine. Taking me so damn well, aren’t you?” Any other would have crumbled under how relentless he is, but you take it so well.

Your moans echo in the chambers as you receive the treatment only his favourite deserves. And by the end of it, you are left in a mess. His cock and loads of cum stuffing your poor cunny full, your moans raspy and he releases load after load into you, his thumb playing with your sensitive nub occasionally, his other hands fondling your breasts and toying with your sore nipples.

You’ve lost count of how many orgasms he had pulled from you, and you don’t know how many more are to come. You simply take it, drool dripping down your cheek, nails dug into his skin, cunt pumped full, and brain numb from pure pleasure.

When he finally does stop, a stream of cum runs down your entrance, loosening the bulge in your tummy from the excess of it. He brushes strands of your hair back with surprising gentleness before he captures your lips with his and parts.

“You truly make a magnificent sight, my Queen.”

Queen. Your heart swarms with a warmth. Eyes pricking with tears. You have so much to say but you’re so incredibly worn out you can barely lift a finger.

“Shhh..” he mutters, sensing a towel between your thighs, cleaning the mess up. Then , covering your bare form with the warm blanket, he kisses your forehead. “Mine. My Queen. For all eternity.”

“Rest now, my Queen.” He leaves you be in the chambers, you want him to stay. To hold you and say it again. And again. To call you his Queen. But for now, he has something more important to attend to.

When he returns, you’ve already passed out from the tiredness. He chuckles softly, kissing your forehead. “My only one.”

Too bad you couldn’t see the sight of his bloodstained kimono or hear the screams of terror. But that was a small price to pay for hurting the Queen of Ryomen Sukuna.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Osferth x f!reader Warnings: Religious guilt. Canon-typical violence. Mild angst. Loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: Part two of Deathless Death. Osferth has a crisis of conscience and faith, however, an attack on their party by the Danes makes him realise what's at stake. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @valeskafics. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Osferth rouses slowly into wakefulness, blinking his eyes open. For a moment, his mind is blissfully silent, focusing only on the canopy of green leaves above and the chirping of the birds in the woodland that surrounds him and his travel companions.

That is until the memory of the previous evening floods back to him; the taste of her upon his tongue, her cries of pleasure that had echoed through the trees and up into the night sky. He can still feel the smoothness of her thighs beneath his fingertips, the way the softness of her flesh had yielded beneath his hands as she’d hovered above his face while he’d devoured her like a man starved.

His throat tightens at the thought, his cock stirring in his breeches. He turns on his bed roll to face her, expecting to see her peacefully sleeping next to him, just as she usually is, her features a vision of angelic beauty. However, the space beside him lays empty and his brow furrows in concern as he props himself up on his elbow to look around for her.

He spots her. She kneels at a fallen log, her hands clasped in prayer against it. The early morning sunlight filters through the branches casting the top of her head in golden light. She is the picture of innocence, truly angelic, and guilt and shame wash over Osferth in thick, hot waves. He would have sullied her upon the filthy forest floor, if the others had not come back and interrupted them. Worse still, she would have allowed him to. This pure, devout, impressionable girl had been a vessel for his lust. Seeing her as she is now, Osferth vows to keep his distance; he must do better by her, despite his yearning for her.

He is startled momentarily when she opens her eyes and looks directly at him, clearly having sensed his gaze upon her. Her smile is warm, making her eyes soften with fondness as she looks at him.

“You’re awake,” she says, her voice gentle. Osferth will never have enough of that dulcet sound, it is sweeter than honeyed wine. “Will you join me?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak and makes his way over to her, kneeling on the opposite side of the log. It’s a deliberate choice, a need to place a physical barrier between the two of them so that he is not tempted to reach out for her, to feel her lips upon his once more.

If she is offended by his decision, she does not show it, lowering her head once more and closing her eyes. Osferth wonders what she prays for. Had she awoken this morning filled with regret for what they’d done and is now praying for God to cleanse her of her misdeeds?

Pressing his own hands together, he closes his eyes and bows his head.

Please, Lord, give me the strength to resist her. Do not allow me to sully her innocence with my sinful behaviour any more than I already have. Forgive her for transgressions, for she does not understand fully what she has done, and was led astray by my lust.

“First one awake’s meant to light the fire,” he hears Finan grumble sleepily in annoyance from a few feet away.

He sighs, standing and walking towards the pit that had been dug the day before. “Apologies, Finan, I’ll do it now.”

The rest of the morning passes peacefully. Uhtred’s talk of their travel plans serves as a welcome distraction, though he is unable to stop himself from glancing over at her. She looks at him with such adoration that it makes his heart squeeze. He is not worthy of basking in the affection of her gaze, yet he craves it all the same.

When it comes time to move on, she leans back against his chest as they ride, and it takes everything he has not to wrap his arms around her waist. His knuckles turn white from the intensity with which he keeps a hold of his horse’s reins, knowing that if he lets go his hands will be upon her in an instant.

She tucks herself against his chest as they bed down again that night and he is glad to wrap his arms loosely around her, keeping her close. He reasons he is simply keeping her warm, nothing more, until she looks up at him doe-eyed and expectant.

“Will you kiss me again?” She whispers into the darkness and he feels a pit open in his stomach.

“Not tonight, my lady”, he tells her quietly, “get some rest.”

He hates telling her no. The way her face crumples in disappointed sadness feels like a dagger to his chest, but it is for her own good. A kiss would lead to more and he cannot do that to her. He must control himself for the both of them.

She nuzzles into him, closing her eyes and he allows himself a moment to simply let his hands stroke through the silken strands of her hair, soft as angel’s wings.

He is thankful that the constant presence of Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric during the day prevents her from asking about the night he had tasted her. He can see it in her face each time she looks at him, longing in her eyes and questions on the tip of her tongue, but she’d never dare speak of it in company, so he always ensures they are never alone.

Come nightfall she clutches against his robes as they lay together, and he savours her closeness, her warmth, her scent, pretending his actions are a matter of duty that he derives no pleasure from.

She catches him off guard a few mornings later, excitement in her eyes as she approaches him.

“There is a river close by. I’d like to bathe. Will you join me?”

Osferth feels himself flush scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears. The thought rivulets of water running down her skin, tracing the curves of her body, has him swallowing thickly in order to maintain his composure. But he cannot give in.

He picks up his sword, fastening it to his belt. “I will keep watch to ensure you are safe, my lady.”

Her gaze lowers, he can see he has disappointed her yet again and guilt gnaws at him. He detests that doing the right thing makes her so sad.

She turns and walks off in the direction of the riverbank, and he dutifully follows her. He has to physically force himself to turn away when she begins to undress. Never having seen her fully bare before, he is desperate to look, but knows he will not be able to control himself if he does.

In his peripheral vision he sees her form illuminated by sunlight as she steps from the bank and into the water. Her movements are slow, deliberate, and he glances quickly at her, seeing how her hands move through the water, over her hair and down her body. 

Looking quickly away, he wonders how someone so angelic can be such a temptress. He wants to protect her virtue, yet ravage her at the same time, and it seems she is attempting to lure the latter half of him out to play. She does not know the full weight of what she is asking, however, and Osferth could not live with himself if he laid with her, only for her to regret it.

He keeps his focus on the surrounding woodland, to make sure no one approaches or sees her as she is bathing. He does not look upon her again until she returns to him, dressed once more, her hair damp from the river.

She looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes and Osferth feels panic flutter in his chest. They are alone. They are alone, and she is going to ask him about what happened between them and he will not know what to tell her. What could he possibly say? That he is a sinner? That he cannot control himself? That he swore to protect her and has taken advantage of her instead?

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks sadly.

The question hits him like a punch to the gut. How could she assume she is to blame for anything?

He opens his mouth to reply, but she beats him to it. “Was it not good…the other night? Have you decided you don’t want me after all?”

Her tone is filled with insecure hurt and Osferth feels as though he wants to cry. He had never meant to make her feel unwanted. If only she knew that she is everything he has ever wanted and everything he does not deserve simultaneously.

“Osferth?” Sihtric’s voice echoing through the trees interrupts them, as the crackle of branches heralds his approaching footsteps.

He turns to face the direction he is coming from, brows rising in concern as he sees the hardened look upon Sihtric’s face. This is serious.

“Get ready to go,” he tells them both. “We are being tracked by Harald’s men.”

Without thinking, Osferth grabs her hand, rushing her back to camp. They hurriedly pack away their belongings, kicking out the fire, before mounting up and moving on at speed.

She rests wordlessly against his chest, and he knows they will eventually need to continue their conversation from earlier, but right now his only focus is on keeping her safe. If he cannot do that then he has failed in his entire reason for taking her with him from Alton in the first place.

Their horses are brought to an abrupt halt, rearing up slightly when Danes ambush them in a clearing, surrounding them. Bile rises in Osferth’s throat, icy fingers of fear wrapping around his heart - not for himself, but for what may happen to her.

As Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric dismount, withdrawing their weapons, he leans forward whispering quickly to her. “Run. Run away and don’t look back. I will find you after.”

He feels her trembling like a leaf, and wishes he could do more to comfort her, but in this moment the best source of comfort is to protect her and, so as she flees, he jumps down from his horse and unsheathes his own weapon.

Osferth is not a masterful warrior, but travelling with Uhtred has sharpened his skills and he fights with more confidence than terror with each passing day. 

Allowing pure instinct and adrenaline ro guide his movements, he drives forward, slashing with his blade, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and the wet, dull sounds of steel biting into flesh.

A sharp sting against his temple happens so quickly that he barely registers he is cut, until he feels the warm trickle of blood in his eye. He blinks it away in time to see Uhtred run through the Dane responsible for causing the injury.

He is panting, sweaty, sight in one eye reddened by ichor by the time they have cut down Harald’s men. Those not killed have fled, but any solace he feels is short lived as dread and regret spur him into action, he runs through the woods in search of her.

Stupid fool.

If he’d have known better, he’d have taken her and rode away, not left her to fend for herself. What if some of Harald’s men have come after her? What if she’s dead?

As Osferth races through the trees he can no longer tell if the warmth upon his cheeks is blood or tears, he simply knows he has to find her.

His heart soars, relief and exhilaration flooding through him when he spots her cowering in a thicket, fresh tears pricking his eyes.

She is safe.

He calls out to her and she raises her head, her eyes wide with fright, though she visibly relaxes when she sees him, stepping out from her hiding place.

His jaw clenches in anger when he sees the slash in the sleeve of her dress, a long, angry looking red gash adorns the flesh of her forearm.

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, unable to mask the worry in his voice.

She shakes her head. “I caught myself on a low hanging branch when I ran away. It is my own clumsiness that is at fault, no one else.”

Reaching up, her fingers brush over the cut to his temple. “You are hurt…”

Osferth winces, though does his best to sound brave in spite of the pain. “It’s only a scratch. The fact that you are safe is all that matters to me.”

They stare at each other unblinking for a moment, her thumb tenderly wipes away the tears that have tracked down his cheeks. 

If they are not meant to be together then why would God deliver her safely back to him? They both could have died today and all he wants to do is kiss her.

Before he can second guess himself, he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, smiling into the kiss as he feels her return the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close.

She is alive, they both are, and he has never felt more so than in this moment.

That night, they do not sleep upon the forest floor. Uhtred finds them lodgings at a village alehouse, stating they have all suffered enough for one day and deserve the comfort of a decent night’s rest.

Retreating upstairs, bellies filled with ale and stew, Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric pile into one room, leaving Osferth and her to the other. It is humble, simply furnished, with a small double bed.

Osferth’s pulse races, keeping his back to her as he removes the light leather armour from his wrists and chest, leaving himself in just his robes. They have never spent the night alone together like this before. What would she be expecting of him?

He lips part involuntarily as he turns back to see her dressed only in her cotton shift. She has removed her dress, and tended to the cut upon her arm. She is beautiful, so beautiful, and he feels himself redden with embarrassment as she looks up and smiles, clearly having caught him staring.

She squeezes water from a cloth into a basin, before turning back to him. “Here, let me,” she says, gesturing to the wound on his temple.

Osferth approaches her slowly, his breathing unsteady. He hisses lightly at the sting of it as she gently presses the dampened cloth to his injury.

“Forgive me,” she whispers, lightening her touch, and his chest tightens.

As if my forgiveness is something you would ever need to seek.

She dabs at his face, placing the cloth into the bowl several more times as she goes, wringing it out, until she is satisfied he is clean.

Dropping the cloth back into the bowl, she places her hands against his face. She regards him with such tenderness that he has to close his eyes, unable to stand the way it makes it feel as though his heart will burst out of his chest.

Her fingertips move lightly over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, over his lips, chin and jaw. If this is what it feels like to be worshiped then the satisfaction God must experience is beyond gratification.

He gasps as he feels her lips press eagerly his once more and moves his mouth hungrily against hers, tangling his fingers into her hair and walking her back towards the bed.

Pushing her back, he hovers over his, his lips trailing a path down her neck to her collarbones, before kissing the rest of her body through her shift. Eagerly, he pushes the cotton above her hips, finding her wet and wanting, eager to be tasted again.

Osferth’s gaze flickers back up to her face. Her eyes are glossy and darkened by desire, her lips swollen with kisses and parted as she breathes heavily through them.

If he had died today, he is certain the grave he ended up in would not be enough to hold him back from crawling back to her, if only to see her like this. But in that same moment, he remembers the men he has killed today, his hands sullied by blood, lives ended by his hand.

He is unfit to touch her. He cannot besmirch her virtue with his uncleanliness.

He bows his head, exhaling sadly. “I–I cannot go any further, my lady,” he whispers, “I would not dirty you with hands that are not worthy of you.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “And what about what I want? It is my virtue to give away, don’t I get to decide who takes it?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, you cannot give me this,” he argues, eyebrows drawn together in a pleading expression.

“I know perfectly well what it is that I want,” she replies, her tone defiant.

She shifts on the bed, pushing him onto his back, and he lets her. All his fight has left him, so he simply lays there, watching her with curiosity as she sits astride him.

Carefully, her hands pull at his clothes, stripping him of his robe, trousers and breeches. He quietly allows her to do so, lifting his body as needed to aid her task until he lays utterly naked before him.

Osferth has never been nude in front of anyone before. He had anticipated feeling shame and embarrassment, wanting to curl in on himself to hide from her. However, her gaze is filled with such warmth and innocence, she looks upon him in wonder, the way that people gaze at sunsets and meadows of wildflowers. It makes pride swell within his chest to be looked upon as though he is worthy.

Her lips brush gently against his, and as quickly as he leans up to kiss her back, she is moving away. Her mouth trails a path down his neck, across his chest and over his abdomen, before she allows her fingertips to take the same journey. He shivers, feeling his manhood pulsate under her attention.

He sucks in a breath when he feels her hand wrap around his cock, testing the weight and feel of it in her palm, eyeing it reverently, before she lets go and comes to lay beside him.

She pulls her shift over her head, discarding it upon the floor, and his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of her. Not even the most diligent monks in his days at the monastery could illuminate visions as lovely as she is.

“I do not know what I am doing. I’ve never done this before, but I want to. Osferth, please.”

Her quiet plea is all he needs to hear. He turns her onto her back, hovering over her and kisses her deeply. A rumble of appreciation vibrates through him as he feels her instinctively part her thighs.

Pulling away, he grasps the base of himself, guiding his tip to her waiting entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes locking with hers.

“I have never wanted anything more. Please.”

Her words make his stones ache and he presses forwards, jaw going slack at the feeling of how tight she is as his length forces apart her walls.

She whines quietly at the intrusion, though as he studies her face he is met with desire rather than the discomfort that he had anticipated. It excites him to know that she wants him, though he fears he would not be able to stop now even if he wanted to.

If lying with other women has been the closest he has come to seeing the face of God before, then in this moment he has truly died and gone to heaven.

His thrusts into her are slow and soft, his lips linger against hers, exchanging sticky kisses and laboured breaths. As his passage eases, his movements become slightly harder and faster, groaning as she grows wetter, clenching around him as the wooden bed frame creaks with their efforts.

This is his forbidden fruit. He has tasted her and now there is no going back. He loses himself in the sensation of her, his grip on her tight as she writhes beneath him, the sounds she makes are sweeter than any music.

Noticing her tensing when his thrusts are shallower, he repeats the motion in earnest until suddenly she is crying out, pulsating around him, pulling him quickly towards release. He pulls out, stroking himself to completion, watching the way his spend paints her bare flesh in pearlescent ropes.

Breathlessly he falls back against the mattress, pulling her to him, wanting her close. She is pliable, eager, and snuggles against him, her head upon his chest.

He looks down at her through hooded eyes and she smiles back up at him, her gaze filled with warm affection.

“I love you,” she whispers.

The words stick in his throat. They are not enough to convey the depth of his feelings for her. They are just words, much like heaven and hell, and they are worthless. He will never want for anything, as long as he has her.

So, he simply kisses her, hoping that it is enough for her to understand just how precious she is to him.

[odesofmeddea]

trying on an argument why sam and dean were in factual canonical enmeshment: their bond presumes the absence of nuclear family or any long-term partner in the lives of either; the very formulation of this rigid condition - me or her, - is telling, overtly so, how their relationships are rooted bog-deep in the belief in its crucial self-sufficiency. the bond between related people devoid of such an incestuous tilt generally endorses that a relative builds and commits to a family of his own and puts not a stipulation of choice. that is, ‘it is fine if my brother marries - how and why would that affect our connection?’ - is not fine with sam and dean. if it was so, sam would've kept dating ruby, amelia, etc., etc., without dean putting him under the exigency of picking, without the uncontrollable invasion of his sexual and general privacy by dean (‘did you have sex with her? first madison then ruby now cara then lilith’, dean eavesdropping on sam's calls and going through his phone, or interrogating him concerning his whereabouts, if there's a woman he doesn't know about), and, moreover, without sam feeling an unspelt obligation of either concealing (why, right?) or rescinding these side hook-ups. oh, also it's him or benny. same with lisa, who knew the fact of her secondariness when competing with sam and that the existence of one naturally excluded that of the other. why can't they all be a big family performing roles socially allotted to them?.. because sam fills in all the roles. because dean and sam want to live in one room and they brush their teeth together and share one car and invariably solve cases together and own a dog and coparent jack and even their afterlife is a shared homoheaven bereft of other love interests. where a woman is to put herself between, in what inextant interstice? ultimately she is reduced to a blur in the background while sammy raises his kid, dean ii, and she is not addressed, not once, in the script, her only definition is of a nemo-womb sam cohabits with to conceive a replica of dean he can nurture as a solace during his lifelong premeditation of reunion with his brother, his nóstos - this is an awful lot of all women and possible partners of have been and to be. one would say that's rather too much. were sam and dean a girl and a boy conforming to gender binarism & heteronormativity the ambiguity of their relation would've been acknowledged more widely, the incestuous codependency interpreted more obscene. but since they're not and also are very uneasy with the innuendo (‘the most troubling question is why they keep assuming we're gay? - we're just brothers!’), it's very convenient to diminish it to just a strong fraternal love. which it is. but not only that.

the potentiality of erotic subtext inside of their greedy proximity seems scary and stupid and is eschewed by both - how are they to subvert and subsume their relationship into non-brother categorization when it's just their life, just the only thing they've known, being this close? still, the only affairs permitted are the ones that are treated as and are simple, emotionally untethered one-night-stands because sam and dean are not sexually available to each other. nor they're resolute into directly consummating their relationship - the need to is either lacking or suppressed and is to be interpreted variously because covert incest is not primarily about coition but miscellanea of things, more often than not of un/subconscious genesis and procession. sam and dean know their relationship is bonkers. they don't necessarily have to know or admit they're a couple. what else they know, though, is they can't have sex. they cannot consciously translate their enmeshment into overt eroticism. that's why the siren episode is titled ‘sex and violence’ - there the mutual violence unleashed onto each other (along with the symbolic penetration through knife and breaking of the door) serves as a surrogate for sex. that, along with impulsive hugs, is the only form of lingering physical contact they usually have. but the yearning, although not experienced in one concreteness, compensates and provides for itself in a safer realm of sam and dean's emotional spaces. they can't have sex but they can fall into possession of each other's feelings. that's why once the personal attachment to anyone else is developed it is construed as betrayal by either. if you need another person, if you feel something for them that you're supposed to feel only with me (intimacy, trust, love, loyalty, belonging) - that's when you abandon me because we can't coexist with others.

[mistress-riddle]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃. tommy shelby x reader.

✐ 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

❧ cw. typical violence, alcohol consumption, mentions of a child almost getting blown up, the usual 🤷🏻‍♀️

❧ r. I was wondering if I could request one where she happens to be back at the house/betting shop at the time when the Lees destroy it and the fact that the Lees still did that with there being a woman, let alone the woman who is his significant other, in the shop really infuriates Tommy when he comes back to see that she’d been affected by it. I’ll leave it up to you for how you want to end it. ☺️ — @runnning-outof-time

"ooh, where are you heading?" you ask polly who places a hat on top of her head and she sends you a smile as you greet her. she means to answer but tommy joins your side and interrupts her by asking "where's john?"

"john's at the garrison," she informs and tommy's brows furrow "says he wants a meeting about a family matter." you hear him sigh and so you put your hand on his shoulder and he gives you a look of exasperation.

"easy tommy, he just wants a meeting, not to overthrow the government."

"and well, we know he'd that himself." polly remarks and you snicker in response, she purses her lips in return "besides, he'll say his piece and he'll be back to take his place with scudboat." her nephew merely rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief.

"scudboat, john will be here in ten minutes." polly declares and walks away, fixing her gloves on her way out to the garrison.

"five." tommy corrects before following her, but he stops halfway and turns to you "you coming?"

"i'll stay, still haven't had breakfast." you tell him and point over to scudboat "he might also need some help counting."

tommy stares for a few seconds before nodding "i'll be back soon, love."

.

he walks out and you take a seat at scudboat's table continuing his counting as he locks up. having two people deal with the work quickened the pace and soon the two of you were done counting. you leaned back in your seat.

"would you like something from the kitchen, scudboat?" you follow your question with some offers "tea or some biscuits?"

he nods "tea would be nice, miss." you shoot him a smile as you get up however you're stopped from actually walking to the kitchen as the instant you stand, the doors bust open. almost like instinct, you see scudboat pull out what you presume is a gun from the side of your eye and you freeze in your spot with both arms raised in surrender.

"put that down!" you hear one of the men order and around 2-3 men with weapons circle scudboat and restrain him whilst you face the end of a barrel.

"this is for cheltham." a man with a gypsy accent and bandages covering his right ear announces as he moves his aim from you to scudboat and you hold back a groan. of course tommy angered the lee family during his visit to the races, of fucking course "we're just taking back what's ours." he drives the end of the gun to scudboat's face, effectively dropping him to the floor.

he then turns to you once more "where are the loots, huh?" he asks gruffly and you withhold a grimace.

"i don't what you're talking about." you respond, annoyed at the entire situation you were left in.

"come on, you're tommy's girl, are you not? he must've told you where they are." a scoff escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, arms crossing before your chest.

"what makes you think that?" you cock your head to the side, eyes widening in an innocent expression "i only work here to serve the men drinks and clean up."

the man lets out a hoarse laugh and clutches your face in his hold "don't mess with me, i know who you are." your face drops and you hold his gaze.

"then you must know that tommy will have your head if he so much as sees a scar on me?" you threaten softly and his grip loosens "or are you as stupid as you look, i mean you must be because who in their right mind would steal from the peaky blinders?--" you're stopped by a slap across your face.

"fuck you," he spits in your direction, probably realising that you won't give up information and are only wasting time, stalling for the shelby's return. you don't react, however, eyes staring daggers as he orders his men "search everywhere!" he tells them and they leave scudboat to fall on the floor to disperse around the betting shop, flipping the place all over in search of what the peaky blinders retrieved. you slip away during their distraction and kneel beside the injured man.

"i'm sorry" you whisper, reaching for a cloth on a nearby table to dab at the deep wound on his temple. it didn't take long for the men to leave, laughing as you hear something clunk against a table and within a few minutes, finn walks through the kitchen, his stroll halted at the sight of you and scudboat crouched on the floor.

"finn!" you call the boy and he runs to you, worry in his eyes "go and call your brothers, tell them to hurry here." you pat his cheek softly once he's close enough and with a nod, he races of to the garrison. you pull a fallen chair and stand it up right, helping scudboat on the chair.

"love," you hear tommy's voice before you see him "are you alright?" he asks and you leave scudboat as tommy gathers you in his arms, a kiss pressed against the crown of your head, and you inhale his familiar scent of cigarettes, whiskey and a mix of cologne.

"what the bloody hell happened here?" arthur asks from somewhere behind you and scudboat answers him as john surveys the betting shop, feet stomping in anger.

"tommy, i'm fine" you reassure him, patting his chest as you pull away. the slap was nothing as far as you were concerned "however, they took what they could find, sorry we couldn't do anything about it, they were all armed."

tommy shakes his head at you "fuck that, what matters is you're alright." he places a kiss on your forehead once more before detaching from you to scan the place. you turn to see arthur tending to scudboat (serving him alcohol, you note with a chuckle) and instead choose to stand beside polly who reaches a hand out to hold your own.

"your cheek's red." you see the dissatisfied expression she's wearing and tap her hand.

"polly, i'm fine, don't worry." whatever she intends to say dies down her throat as tommy approaches the centre of the room, wire cutters held in his hand.

"they left these." he shows the people in the room the tool and you and polly share a confused look.

"wire cutters?" the older woman questions.

"what for?" you ask and hesitate when you see the alarm quickly taking over the shelby brothers faces.

"nobody move." arthur instructs but you furrow your eyebrows at him.

"i think our friends are playing the game." your confusion turns to tommy instead and you feel the frustration rising at the lack of explanation.

"what game?" polly asks, putting away the cash box she picked up earlier with her free hand and john stops her from continuing "aunt pol, don't touch anything." he pleads.

"erasmus lee was in france."

"an explanation would be grand since not all of us were in said france." you snap, anxiety at its peak.

"when we gave up ground to the germans," tommy begins, looking straight into your eyes "we'd leave behind booby traps set up with wires. then we'd leave wire cutters, it's part of the joke." you let out a laugh of disbelief.

"somewhere in here there's a hand grenade attached to a wire." john declares and you shake your head.

"holy jesus."

"but we've all moved and touched multiple things in the room, surely it would've gone off by now," you surmise, nibbling on your lip and you catch sight of tommy's pensive face "and there aren't any obvious wires here, they couldn't have stayed long enough to set it either." you clarify.

"you're right," tommy nods "the bullet's in my name. he set up a trap intended for me specifically." you hold his gaze and see the pieces click in his brain and soon he walks out of the house.

everyone pauses and they look at you "the car!" you exclaim and follow after him, leaving the shelby's and scudboat behind.

you lift your dress up and catch up to tommy, bumping slightly into him, just to find his arm extended, talking to someone in his car. the person he's softly talking to causes your heart to drop to your stomach.

"finn," he calls out "stay exactly where you are." you raise a hand to cover your mouth and try to steady your fast beating heart.

"i was pretending i was you." finn giggles and you feel something stab into your heart, tommy leaves you behind as he slowly inches towards his baby brother.

"which door did you open to come in, finn?" tommy asks him and you can hear the panic in his voice.

"i didn't, i climbed in."

"i want you to climb out exactly the same way you climbed in, okay?" tommy approaches even closer, getting to the right side of the car.

"listen to your brother, finn." you call out from the entrance of the garage but finn merely giggles and opens the door anyways.

"NO!"

"FINN!"

you run towards the boy, arms open to cover him his small body and tommy quickly retracts the bomb from the car and throws it outside into the streets, yelling a "clear!" as he discards it. you feel him shortly join your embrace afterwards as it goes off.

once he deems it safe to assess the damage, you both walk together with finn holding onto both your hands and tommys. a collective sigh of relief escapes you two before tommy drops down to face finn, holding the boy's face in his hands "this is why you should never pretend to be me."

you watch tommy hug finn who still tightly clung to your hand and tommy looks into your eyes once again, relief washing over them and you send him a tired smile.

"come on finn, how about we go get you some sweets huh?" you ask the boy and he nods eagerly. tommy ruffles his hair and gives him another short hug before letting him leave with you.

once you get home, finn full of sweets and no longer ruffled, you prepare a bathe before you settle in bed. you allow your restless body to finally relax and soak in the warmth of the tub. around half an hour later you wrap your hair in a cloth to absorb the water that still clung to your tresses and apply your moisturiser. your fingers pause when you hear your door open suddenly and in an instant you grab the closest thing beside you and hold it in the direction of the intruder.

"very effective weapon, dear." you look at the item in your hand and let out a scoff/laugh.

"wouldn't need to think about having a weapon if it weren't for your lifestyle." you argue and tommy scoffs in return, busy removing his shoes and outwear.

"[name], you're a woman who lives alone in small heath of all places." the look he sends you makes you snort "even if you had nothing to do with me, you wouldn't be that safe."

"that's wonderful to hear actually, will go to bed feeling safe and sound." you deadpan and he sits himself on your bed, watching as you get back to working the moisturiser into your skin.

"of course, always happy to let my woman know she's safe and protected." you toss one of your powder brushes at him and he easily catches it with a laugh.

"come here already," he beckons you and with a roll of your eyes, you join him under the covers.

"i need you to know that i won't ever let anything harm you," he says once you settle in his arms, eyes gazing into yours "truly."

"i know." you peck his lips before resting your head on his collarbone, he picks up your "weapon" and flicks through the pages to continue from the last time he stopped.

"erasmus has been dealt with and i hope you're ready for a wedding," just as you began to feel the embers of sleep take a hold of you, you peek your eyes open.

"oh no thomas, what'd you do?"

"don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

you roll your eyes at him once more and huff out a breath of irritation "fine, but if polly ever complains to me about this i'm kicking you out of my house and you'll have no access to my books."

"you like me too much to get rid of me, love."

"i'll be the judge of that." you close your eyes once more and drift off to sleep, but not before you feel a kiss against the top of your head.

[bobbile-blog]

Okay so I've finally gotten to Jessicalter's Oprec and now feel qualified to talk about Come Catastrophes or Wakes of Vultures. holy shit. This went straight into my list of top Arknights events. Fantastic event, spoilers will be under the cut so I HIGHLY RECOMMEND reading the event first. It's really good and worth your while.

Anyway, what follows is a scattered mess of thoughts about this event and things that stuck out to me.

First off, plot stuff! I'll probably cover this when I do my next plotline recap post, but what I took away from the end is that Clip Cliff seems to want to make Blacksteel independent, or at least more self-determining than it is now. He seems to be gathering resources and assets like mobile city plates and investing in long-term infrastructure like merc training, so he definitely has a long game he's pushing for. I don't think we know enough go speculate about his goals, but we'll definitely be coming back here again. After all, Tila has an infection monitor in her art, which probably means she's going to be playable at some point in the future.

Next, having looked into this a little on my own, I was interested in some of the previous places Raythean has shown up. Specifically, the ones that stood out were the drones in the Kazimierz Major and arming Silverash's forces in Kjerag, which might be referring to the Tschäggättä. It's not just notable for their apparent level of technology, but also as a faint connecting thread between three separate capitalism plotlines. I don't know if that's going to be meaningful in the future, but I found it interesting enough that I thought I'd bring it up.

Now on to more narrative things. While I love Liskarm and Franka, I do think it was the right choice to give them less screen time in this event. They're both (for the most part) fully-realized characters who understand their own motivations and morals. This is above all else an event about Jessica learning to stand on her own as an adult, so it makes sense that they're more here to support her than they are to play their own roles in the story.

Speaking of said roles, I liked the event's commentary on cops. It pointed out an interesting distinction that I wouldn't really have ever thought of, that between mercenaries and cops. To start: cops exist to protect property, not people. The police exist to protect things and do not have an obligation to err on the side of people over things, and in fact are supposed to do the opposite. This event understands that, and that role os the core of how the bank treats the Blacksteel mercs. CV, however, raises an interesting point that mercenaries are bound by the letter of a contract and not the larger obligation to property cops are, so they can actually raise moral objections and point to their contracts, sort of a Lawful Evil/Lawful Neutral to cops' Neutral Evil. The independence of their position with respect to cops allows for more of an independent morality than you'd get in a cop story and I like that, I think it's a really smart direction to take your writing in.

On a (mostly) separate note, holy shit Arknights is really good at writing cowboy stories. Between this and chapter 9 (and I would argue An Obscure Wanderer), Arknights has repeatedly made it clear that they Do Not Fuck Around with their cowboy stories and I'm surprised I haven't heard more people talking about it. It kinda has everything:

- It takes place in a rural, working-class setting undergoing a larger imminent societal shift that can inform the larger narrative, and deals with a semi-mythologized past that is rapidly disappearing.

- It has a protagonist and an antagonist that serve as foils, both very heavily affected and defined by the (same) violence in their past that they've both had different reactions to. Our protagonist has come to terms with the violence as a tool to maintain order, while our antagonist has used it for personal gain and in some ways lost control of it.

- It's a story about community, and heavily emphasizes local and personal community over larger artificial corporate "community". That's my reading of the recurring motif of the cold btw, warmth represents the close, personal community Davistown used to have and the cold that now pervades it comes from how the bank has systematically dismantled that community.

- And, I'd argue most importantly, it understands the narrative power of a bullet. The Showdown at the end of a cowboy story is powerful because we've spent the entire runtime of our story with these characters, and they are now facing each other down with the intent to end one of their collective two stories. The entire weight of the narrative so far comes to rest on a single moment of tension. It's really hard to gather up the kind of narrative momentum you need to make that hit like it does in CV. For example, it requires a really light hand with actual action in the story, so that it really does feel like it's an even standoff between our protagonist and antagonist. On the other hand, though, you do actually have to establish the relative skill of both parties and actually sell the danger of the moment to the audience. It's really hard to toe the line between tension and actual action in a way that makes for a satisfying resolution, and CV does it extremely well.

Honestly, Arknights just seems really good at getting the vibes of American media right. This is something I noticed in DV and Lonetrail too, and I haven't really been able to put my finger on what it is about them, but the vibes are just really on-point. I want to write more about this at a later point once I actually figure out what it is that I'm feeling, but maybe it's the setting, maybe it's the cast, maybe it's the plot points, maybe it's something in between — it just seems to understand the spirit of period cowboy stories in a way that I can't describe. Good shit.

Finally, I wanna end this with where Jessica is now. The events of CV take place In between the events of Loneterail and Ideal City, so the current "now" of the story is a few months ahead. Jessica left for the frontier along with Woody, Helena, and Miles. They live together in a small new settlement, building the place from the ground up with Woody and Jessica acting as town sherrifs. At the point we're at now, rhe town is fairly well-established and Woody has temporarily left on other business, leaving Jessica the sole sherrif of their new settlement. However, she's risen to her new station, and is growing into a stronger person than she ever was before.

[yuujispinkhair]

Separation Anxiety (Chapter 14)

Put your lips on my scars and teach me to love

When a ritual separates Sukuna from Yuuji, Sukuna is delighted to find that besides having his own body, there is also another gift handed to him: The brat has lost all his memories and is now the perfect little plaything to take home and manipulate. At least, that's the plan. But the King of Curses isn't prepared for the feelings that come along with being human again. And another complication is how cute the brat is when he has no idea who Sukuna is and, instead of hating him, treats him with genuine love and affection. So, without realizing it, Sukuna suddenly finds himself on a journey of learning how to be loved and how to love.

++ Masterpost ++

Pairing: Sukuna x Yuuji Genre: Memory Loss AU, fluff, smut, light angst Word Count: 4.5k Playlist: Separation Anxiety Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, dub-con (Yuuji has lost his memories, and Sukuna lies to him about being boyfriends). All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

A little reminder for this chapter: In this AU, Shibuya and the Culling Game never happened.

Chapter 14

I can't keep you in these arms, so I'll keep you in my mind (You and I - Stripped by PVRIS)

Sukuna's POV:

He wants to tear the whole city down. He wants to set the world on fire, wants to kill and destroy and hear the screams of thousands burning in his wrath.

But Sukuna doesn't do any of those things. He does nothing at all.

Because Yuuji is somewhere out there in this city, and Sukuna cannot risk hurting him or the people Yuuji cares about. On top of that, Sukuna knows that Yuuji would blame himself for the destruction and the deaths. Sukuna knows how his brat's mind works. Yuuji would convince himself it was his fault because Sukuna managed to escape the cage that Itadori Yuuji was supposed to be.

That foolish brat will always blame himself for every crime Sukuna commits. This will never change. But what has changed is that Sukuna doesn't want to use this knowledge against Yuuji anymore.

So Sukuna does nothing. He just sits in the dark in his living room, which is too silent without Yuuji's excited chatter and loud laughter. He has a glass of dark red wine in his hand, occasionally taking a sip while his gaze wanders over Tokyo's bright lights glittering in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows.

Even if Sukuna would burn this city down, he doubts it would bring him any satisfaction. Nothing seems to be able to do that anymore. Everything has lost its meaning. Uraume can serve him the most exquisite meal, and it tastes bland. This city could crumble to ashes, and it wouldn't lift Sukuna's spirits. It wouldn't be able to fill that emptiness in Sukuna's chest. The dull ache is back, stronger than ever.

Uraume stands behind him, waiting for Sukuna's orders, watching him, observing every little thing he does. Their presence never bothered Sukuna, but right now, he feels their gaze like needle pricks on his skin. He never felt as exposed before, like his chest got torn open, and his heart and soul spilled over the floor for everyone to see.

"We can get you a new pet, Master Sukuna."

Sukuna's hand tightens around the wineglass so tightly that it breaks. Dark red wine spills over his hand, seeping into this white shirt, dripping down his wrist, and onto the luxurious white carpet beneath his feet.

Sukuna stares at the growing dark red pool at his feet, looking like the spilled blood he just imagined. He doesn't like lashing out at Uraume, not after all the years they spent together, but it takes every last ounce of control to keep his voice low and steady as he answers,

"I don't want another pet. The only one I want is him."

No one else could give him what Yuuji did. No one else could make him feel the way his brat does. No one else could be worthy. No one else could even begin to know him like Yuuji does.

When Yuuji was here, Sukuna felt warm. But now he feels that old familiar solitude drowning him again in its cold, rough waters. It's even worse now than it was in the past. A thousand years ago, Sukuna didn't know what he was missing, at least. He didn't know love. He didn't know the warmth of a lover's embrace, the utter bliss of seeing trust and affection in someone's eyes, the comfort of a genuine smile given to him without any ulterior motives or selfish reasons. Back then, he didn't know what it felt like to be loved.

But he has been touched by love now, by this oldest and most powerful curse of all. There is no going back. Yuuji came into his life, tore Sukuna's walls down, kissed his scars, and changed him forever. It's irrevocable.

Yuuji's presence still lingers in the apartment, even weeks after he left. The cookbooks with his messy handwritten notes scrawled all over the pages where he added his own adjustments to the recipes. His clothes, carelessly shoved into the closet, despite Uraume's attempt to fold them neatly, still smelling like him. The manga he bought at one of the small bookshops, which he enjoyed so much, dog-eared and strewn all over the apartment.

And that photo album he made for Sukuna and himself.

I wish I had had something like that when I woke up and couldn't remember anything. Now, we will always have these pictures to look at! He had said, and now Sukuna is the one who leafs through the small album, feeling the pain in his chest becoming even worse.

He can see the change in himself in those pictures as the date progresses. With every page he turns, it becomes clearer that Sukuna has fallen in love.

He stares at a picture taken in front of the shrine in the park only a few weeks ago. Yuuji took it, holding up his phone, smiling his happy sunshine smile into the camera, and making a peace sign. He is leaning against Sukuna, who is standing behind him, both arms wrapped around Yuuji, hugging him while smiling into the camera with matching genuine happiness written all over his face.

Sukuna wasn't even aware he was capable of looking like this, so at peace with everything in the world. So content. So happy.

It's unsettling to see himself like this, with all those human emotions he thought he had locked away forever, so openly on display on his face. Sukuna's first instinct is to tear out those treacherous pages and burn them to ashes. He cannot let anyone see this testament to his weakness. His long fingers hover over the page with the picture where he hugs Yuuji in the park.

But he cannot do it. He cannot destroy those pictures. Instead, he touches them gently, tracing them with his fingertips, careful not to do any damage, like he is touching his most precious possession.

Once again, Sukuna asks himself what he is doing. He used to be a man who always took what he desired, a man who only did what he wanted. A thousand years ago, he wanted to become The Strongest and hadn't stopped until he had succeeded.

But what does he want nowadays? Even more power? Make everyone bow down to him? Kill all the sorcerers who aren't worthy in his eyes? Enslave every human? Wage a war on this whole world?

No.

Sukuna gets up and slowly walks over to the floor-to-ceiling window, stopping in front of it and gazing out over the endless city lights.

"I just want to live my life in peace."

He is surprised that he said the words out loud and even more surprised by how right they feel.

Peace. It's something Sukuna never thought he would want. In his past life, he had been restless, always pushing himself to become stronger, always striving for more, reaching for enlightenment and a god-like status. He had different lovers every night, never letting anyone get truly close to him, just using them to quench his desire. He watched cities burn to dust while already thinking about the next steps he had to take. He sat on his throne and ruled over the masses.

But nothing ever felt as good as this new life he had those last few months. Nothing ever brought him more joy than the peaceful, domestic life he got to experience with Yuuji by his side. The peacefulness of walking the streets without anyone recognizing him, without having to watch his back at all times for the traitors who wanted to kill him. The peacefulness of only having Yuuji and Uraume around him and not having to deal with all those fake people surrounding him who told him everything he wanted to hear just to get on his good side. The peacefulness of sleeping in Yuuji's arms every night, knowing he could rest without any fear of getting attacked in his sleep.

And suddenly, peace doesn't seem to be such a dirty word anymore.

A humorless laugh escapes Sukuna's lips. His breath fogs up the window, making the bright city lights beneath him blurry. As unbelievable as it sounds, Sukuna knows it's the truth. The only thing he wants nowadays is to live a peaceful life with the man he loves by his side.

Sometimes, Sukuna sees him down in the park in front of the house.

Sukuna knows Yuuji is coming here intentionally. There is no other explanation for it. That sorry excuse of a school is too far away for Yuuji to accidentally end up here in front of his former living space. And the way he's looking up at the penthouse leaves no room for doubt as to why he is here. Golden eyes gaze up intently as if trying to see through the mirrored windows.

In these moments, Sukuna feels his heart contract painfully. The longing is so intense that he finds himself pressing a hand against the cold glass of the window as if reaching out to capture the boy down in the park, to capture that dream of a life with him.

He has to remind himself that this is his own doing. He chose this. He pushed Yuuji away. He changed the locks. He shut Yuuji out of his life.

But that doesn't mean it doesn't eat him up alive.

The first time the brat returned, he rang the doorbell for a solid ten minutes, and Sukuna felt more fear than at the time he faced a whole army of jujutsu sorcerers in Heian times.

He barked at Uraume to not let Yuuji in and fled to the bedroom, only to end up asking himself angrily what was wrong with him. The strongest sorcerer of all time was hiding away in his room because he feared he wouldn't be strong enough not to answer the door! Pathetic!

Sukuna stood at the floor-to-ceiling window with his arms crossed, staring unseeingly at the city below him, while his mind was filled with warm, golden eyes, a bright smile, and cherry blossom petals on pink hair.

The same thing happened several days in a row. The boy came back and rang the doorbell, stubborn as always. But Sukuna stayed adamant and didn't let him in.

It took Yuuji a whole week to stop ringing the doorbell, but it wasn't enough to make him stay away. He still comes here all the time. He still goes for his morning run here in this park, just like he used to do with Sukuna. As if he is waiting for Sukuna to join him.

Sukuna had to change his schedule. He gets up an hour earlier now to finish his morning run before the boy comes here. He tried to avoid going out completely, but he missed those morning runs and refused to give them up. And yet, they don't feel the same anymore.

Those runs used to fill him with exhilaration. But now, the park doesn't hold the same beauty as when Sukuna was here with Yuuji. The shrine, where they used to go to make wishes, suddenly seems shabby and not very well looked after. And the park seems to be too small, too lifeless, with no animals and poor choices when it comes to the flowers they planted, with no sense for poetry or beauty.

But it's not just the park. The whole city is different. Dull would usually not be the word someone would use to describe Tokyo, but this is how it feels to Sukuna now.

All the noises that used to be almost overwhelmingly loud seem far away. The city lights and neon signs aren't able to illuminate the streets the way they used to. The world doesn't have the same bright colors it had when Sukuna was walking through it with Yuuji by his side and heard his loud laughter and neverending chatter.

When Yuuji was with him, it felt like Sukuna was a part of all this. Of this city, of this modern world. But now it has pushed him out again, and he is a mere observer from the outside, never belonging, never finding any connection.

It's ironic. Sukuna had wanted to become Yuuji's whole world. That had been the plan back when he decided to keep the boy as his little pet. But now Sukuna knows better. The one he truly played was himself.

Yuuji still has a whole other world that belongs to him. He has other people who love him. He has a life he can live. He can blend into this world naturally and find a way into people's hearts.

When Sukuna looks around, he knows that this is Yuuji's world. This city, these modern times. It all belongs to Yuuji. He can go out there and meet new people, make them love him, and build a new life with them. He doesn't need Sukuna.

The one who is alone is Sukuna. He is a thousand-year-old relic walking these modern city streets, always knowing that he doesn't belong. He is an alien in this world, has always been, and will always be.

Yuuji was the one who made Sukuna feel like he was a part of this world. Yuuji was the one who took him by the hand and dragged him along into this modern life with its movie theaters and coffeeshops and restaurants and bright lights and loud music.

When it comes down to it, it is always Yuuji. He is everything. Sukuna's whole world.

Sukuna thought he was on the safe side with his early morning runs. But he is proven wrong when he is halfway toward the little shrine on this chilly Thursday morning.

His senses tingle, alerting him of the presence of another sorcerer. But it's not just any sorcerer. What gives it away is the strange feeling of relief that fills Sukuna's chest, making him let out a loud breath. Those last few weeks, the dull ache of their severed soul connection was a constant pain in his chest, the mark of their separation haunting Sukuna unrelentingly. But now, that ache is getting less prominent with every second that passes.

And that's why Sukuna knows that Yuuji is here. An hour too early.

Sukuna feels himself slowing down without making the conscious decision to do so. He huffs, shaking his head as a bitter grin spreads over his face. How foolish he has become. How utterly weak. He knows the reasonable thing would be to run faster. To get away from Yuuji as fast as he can. But Sukuna finds himself unable to listen to his mind. Is that what he is now? A prisoner of what his heart wants?

He has come to a complete stop when the familiar, too-loud voice is heard behind him,

"Kuna!"

At least Sukuna still possesses the strength not to turn around. His shoulders tense up, but his voice is calm, not giving away how distraught he feels when he answers,

"You shouldn't have come. I told you to stay away, brat."

"I don't want to stay away! I want to talk to you! Please!"

Sukuna still refuses to turn around and look at Yuuji. He doesn't want to encourage the boy. But most of all, Sukuna knows the moment he looks at that pretty face, he will feel too much. He will drown in those emotions again, in that unfamiliar territory that makes him feel so terrifyingly helpless. Sukuna knows whatever he does, he must not turn around and look at Yuuji.

But, of course, Yuuji thwarts Sukuna's plan. Of course, he is his usual stubborn and fearless self, who doesn't even let himself get scared away by the fact that the man he lived with for all those months is the King of Curses. He jogs past Sukuna, breaking through Sukuna's last line of defense as if it doesn't even exist, and puts himself right in front of Sukuna on the path leading to the shrine with flushed cheeks and an indignant look in his beautiful eyes.

"Stop trying to push me away! I know, Sukuna, ok? I know who you are and what you did, but I still want to be with you!"

He is breathing heavily, staring so intently at Sukuna that it seems as if he is looking right into Sukuna's soul. A soul that is in turmoil.

It was easier to stay strong when Sukuna watched Yuuji from the penthouse's windows. But now the boy is so close, close enough for Sukuna to see the tears shimmering in those golden eyes. Close enough to hear that warm voice tremble slightly when Yuuji adds,

"I miss you so much."

Something throbs in Sukuna's chest.

"Why do you still come back after knowing you lived with a monster all that time?"

"Because I don't want to be anywhere else in this world. You aren't a monster to me. Or if you are one, then I am a monster, too, and we make a good match."

Sukuna sighs. He feels that nothing he says will be able to make Yuuji back off.

"You foolish brat."

But the words lack the bite. Sukuna can hear the affection in his voice. The words aren't an insult but rather an endearment, and he knows Yuuji realizes it, too. The boy takes a step closer to Sukuna, looking at him with big eyes,

"When you said you love me, you meant it, didn't you, Kuna? I'm not talking about the beginning. But when you said you loved me during the last weeks, just tell me, did you mean it? Yes or no?"

There it is. The most dangerous question. Sukuna wants to deny it. Wants to say it was just part of his game. Wants to make Yuuji leave again. But didn't he try that already? And yet Yuuji is standing before him now, crying and asking Sukuna if he loves him, golden eyes begging him to tell the truth. And so Sukuna nods softly.

"I did mean it. I still do."

A happy, breathless chuckle escapes Yuuji's lips, but those golden eyes still look unrelentingly at Sukuna. So much strength. So much want.

"I knew it. So, if you love me, and I love you, why aren't we together?"

And for once, Sukuna knows no answer.

He exhales slowly while eyeing Yuuji carefully. Finally, he says,

"I don't deserve your love. Look at you. You are so full of love and compassion. The embodiment of humanity. And I am none of those things."

Yuuji shrugs,

"I don't think you are as bad as you try to make yourself out to be. I know there must be more to it than what I read in all those old files in the academy. Maybe if I only knew the man those records talk about, I wouldn't be able to love you. But the thing is, I know another version of you, and he is nothing like that evil king everyone tells me about. And I know no matter what you did in the past, you aren't doing those things anymore now."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Because I know you."

Yuuji says it so matter-of-factly that it makes Sukuna laugh softly. How can the boy say such things? How can he say them with such conviction? How can anyone claim to know him? Him, Sukuna, who always hides behind a mask? Who locked all of his feelings away such a long time ago that he forgot about them? That he forgot how to be human.

But is that really true? Didn't he already prove himself wrong by falling in love with Yuuji? Didn't he feel human emotions all those last months with Yuuji by his side?

If anyone in this world can claim to know him, it is Yuuji.

They are closer than anyone else. They shared a body. Their souls used to be entangled, and even now that they are physically separated, there is still something tying them together. They are connected by a red string of fate. The stars wrote their story into the history of this universe. Yuuji and Sukuna. Sukuna and Yuuji.

So maybe Yuuji can say such outrageous things with such conviction. Because maybe he is right, at least a little. Out of anyone in this world, he is the one closest to Sukuna's soul. Closest to his core.

Sukuna cocks his head and gazes challengingly at Yuuji,

"What do you think I will do if anyone tries to hurt you? Do you think I won't burn this world down?"

But Yuuji just gazes back at him unafraid, cocking his head too, mirroring Sukuna's stance,

"Then I guess I will have to make sure to stay out of trouble, huh?"

There's a lopsided boyish grin on Yuuji's face, and Sukuna stares at him incredulously.

How can Yuuji tear Sukuna's walls down so easily? How can he be so filled to the brim with love and understanding? How can he be so sure and adamant about his feelings? How can he stand here in front of Sukuna after everything that happened and tell him it's ok and that he still wants to come back?

Sukuna had been so sure that sending Yuuji away was good for Yuuji. He had been so sure that Yuuji would hate him once his friends confirmed who Sukuna truly was and what he did.

But he is beginning to realize his mistake.

Yuuji isn't a stupid child or a damsel in distress who needs saving. He is strong and smart in his own way and so much better at understanding emotions and love than Sukuna. Yuuji is very capable of making his own decisions.

Sukuna knows what to do now. He starts walking again, waving Yuuji over with a casual flick of his wrist,

"Come on, walk with me. I will tell you the whole truth. I will tell you everything, even the things you didn't find in the sorcerers' records. And if you still think you can love me after that, then stay."

They slowly stroll further down the path, side by side, and when they reach a park bench, they sit down on it right in front of the shrine. Their shrine, the shrine where they made all those wishes, where Sukuna even stooped as low as asking the resident deity for help, the shrine that he always went back to every day, and more than once stood there with a small wooden ema in his large hands, staring at it, needing all of his strength not to write another wish on it.

He always put the empty ema back on the shelf and left without writing another wish, but in his mind, he knew what he would have written. He knew he would have wished for a new beginning for Yuuji and him. For a chance to make things right.

And now Yuuji is back, sitting next to Sukuna, so close that his thigh brushes against Sukuna's. He looks at Sukuna with those beautiful golden eyes that seem to carry all the riches of the world, everything one could ever want, the biggest treasures there are.

Sukuna speaks to him in a soft, calm voice. He tells Yuuji the truth. All of it. Tells him about his former life, the loneliness, the walls he built around himself, the absence of love, and the abundance of cruelty. Tells him that all that mattered to Sukuna used to be strength. How he needed to be The Strongest, and how he became it. He tells him about the violence Sukuna excelled in. About power and control. He tells him about abandoning a regular human life and becoming something more, something god-like and yet he wasn't satisfied. He tells him about dying and then waking up again in Yuuji's body a thousand years later. He tells him about the hatred in his heart, about the cruel joy he found in tormenting Yuuji because he hated the fact that a boy like Yuuji could hold him hostage in his body.

He tells Yuuji about every terrible thing he did and also about some of the terrible things he had to endure. He tells him about how his own mother thought he was a monster. He tells him about only ever seeing fear or disgust on the faces of the people who stood before him. He tells him about all his admirers who only flocked to him because they wanted to gain an advantage. He tells him how he discovered only now that there is more meaning to life than just strength. That he craves a peaceful life. The kind of life Yuuji showed him when they were together. He bares his whole soul to Yuuji, feeling naked and weak like never before. And yet, it feels right. Because this is Yuuji.

"You can only remember me as your boyfriend, Kuna, but I am also Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, and I have killed many, and I felt nothing while doing it. I still feel nothing for all those people who swarm the world like insects. You are the only one who makes me feel something. The only one I care about. But that wasn't what I planned. I went into this with bad intentions. I manipulated you. I tricked you into loving me and had my cruel joy with it. I wanted to break you. So consider it carefully. Do you really want to be with someone like that?"

He watches Yuuji's pretty face intently, blue eyes looking deeply into golden ones. He sees all the different emotions flickering over Yuuji's face. He sees the disapproval when Sukuna talks about killing, but also the understanding, the love, that is still there unwaveringly. A soft smile spreads over Yuuji's face when Sukuna is finished.

"You tricked me at first, but the Sukuna I lived with those last few months was the real you. And I love you the way you are. There isn't any manipulation or magic involved. I fell in love with the man I laughed with so often, who loves food as much as I do, who took me on nice dates and showed interest in my movies, and re-watched them all with me even though you already knew them by heart. What I feel for you is real, Sukuna. And I am glad to know the whole truth now. I am glad I can be by your side now and pull you out of that loneliness. I am glad you want different things in life now than you did in the past. I am glad that I can help you with that. I choose you, Sukuna. I choose you willingly, with your past and everything that comes with you. I want to live my life by your side. I think that's where I belong."

Sukuna watches him in silence for a moment, his chest filled with that warmth he was missing so much, his fingers tingling with the urge to reach out and pull Yuuji back into his arms.

"Then teach me, Yuuji. Teach me how to love you the right way."

"Oh, that's easy! Because you already do!"

Yuuji smiles that bright smile at Sukuna and reaches out to cup his face, tenderly tracing the black lines on Sukuna's cheeks. And Sukuna finds himself falling again, falling into Yuuji's warmth, into his bright colors, into his love. It's both terrifying and beautiful how the gentle touch of Yuuji's fingers on his cheeks holds more power than a whole army. Destruction in the most beautiful way.

Thank you so much for your patience!! I am so happy to finally post the new chapter! AND THEY ARE BACK TOGETHER 💗💗

I once again cried a lot while writing this. It always gets me so much when I write from Sukuna's POV, and he is vulnerable 😭 I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you are happy they are united again!

I started posting this story over a year ago, and it has been a lot longer in my drafts before that, but I am actually really happy that I am still working on it atm because I love seeing the current chapters of the manga, where we get so much Sukuna and Yuuji content and it makes me an even bigger mess for those two lol.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[mightdeletelater]

A speech made at the Academy Awards by Jonathan Glazer, along with the subsequent reactions, sheds light on how people tend to distort others' words to portray themselves as victims and, more concerning, their willingness to reside in a dystopian bubble as long as it doesn't affect them directly.

Rather than idolising Hollywood, I've previously posted about the complexities of my evolving parasocial relationships. But to disregard the influence wielded by these elites would be naive. It's frustrating to witness those in power facing backlash when they attempt to bring attention to pertinent issues.

While the Oscars' prominence in Western pop culture is waning, the ceremony and the fervour surrounding the nominees and winners, especially in the major acting categories, still hold significant sway in film culture and the broader world.

So when such a speech is delivered at the Oscars, it's bound to garner attention:

All our choices were made to reflect and confront us in the present — not to say, “Look what they did then,” rather, “Look what we do now.” Our film shows where dehumanization leads, at its worst. It shaped all of our past and present. Right now we stand here as men who refute their Jewishness and the Holocaust being hijacked by an occupation, which has led to conflict for so many innocent people. Whether the victims of October the — [Applause.] Whether the victims of October the 7th in Israel or the ongoing attack on Gaza, all the victims of this dehumanization, how do we resist? [Applause.] Aleksandra Bystroń-Kołodziejczyk, the girl who glows in the film, as she did in life, chose to. I dedicate this to her memory and her resistance. Thank you.

Glazer highlighted in his speech that victims of the ongoing situation and the last 75 years, whether Palestinian and Israeli, all stem from the occupation and are casualties of entrenched ideologies like Zionism. But when he said this on stage and was immediately misquoted online on social media and by reputable news sources, alleging that he simply renounced his Jewish identity.

He also faced considerable backlash from those indicating a persistent conflation of anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism. It really parallels previous speeches of resistance at the Oscars. Boos rang loud and clear during Michael Moore's opposition to the Iraq war (which we know was a colossal failure by Geroge Bush and the US Government who perpetuated and pardoned multiple war crimes in the region after lying to their own people about evidence of weapons of mass destruction).

There was also Sacheen Littlefeather's advocacy for Native American representation and the direct of attention to the Wounded Knee Occupation, a speech that had bodyguards having to restrain people from getting on the stage and attacking her.

And, of course, Vanessa Redgrave's aim at “a small bunch of Zionist hoodlums whose behaviour is an insult to the stature of Jews all over the world and to their great and heroic record of struggle against fascism and oppression”, which still feels relevant today.

Turning to Glazer's film, I am baffled at those who vehemently objected to it: Did they actually watch it? Because if they had any negative feelings towards Glazer's speech, especially after watching his film, it suggests, to me, a deficiency in critical thinking.

Glazer's film portrays a chilling atmosphere where genocide becomes normalised, echoing real-world situations like the ongoing conflict in Gaza. The film serves as a stark reminder of humanity's ability to coexist with atrocities, often turning a blind eye for the sake of comfort.

The horrors adjacent to the characters' lives evoke contemporary parallels, particularly in regions like Gaza. With over five months of relentless violence, Israel's defiance of international court orders, and Western governments passively reprimanding while fueling the conflict with arms shipments, the spectre of genocide looms ominously. It risks becoming a mundane backdrop to daily existence. It is a stark portrayal of how affluent lifestyles can be linked to neighbouring atrocities, challenging the notion of denial and complicity.

The film doesn't centre around the Holocaust (Glazer's own words), with its specific historical context. Instead, it delves into a more universal theme: humanity's ability to coexist with atrocities and even derive some form of reconciliation or gain from them. The discomforting reflections are on purpose. It prompts us to acknowledge that the threat of annihilation of any people is always closer than we might imagine.

One of the most poignant moments in the film occurs when a package filled with clothing and lingerie pilfered from the prisoners of the camp arrives at the Höss household. The commandant's wife decides that everyone, including the servants, can select one item. She claims a coat for herself and trys on makeup discovered in one of its pockets.

How can the people who are so staunch against Glazer not draw parallels with Israeli soldiers who have recorded themselves rummaging through the lingerie of Palestinian women and slut shaming them? (Why are Israeli soldiers obsessed with Gaza women's underwear?) Or proudly displaying stolen shoes and jewellery for their partners back home (Israeli soldier loots Palestinian homes for his engagement party). Or celebrating International Women's Day with a photo of women soldiers posing for selfies against the backdrop of destruction (How an AP photographer made this image of Israeli soldiers taking a selfie at the Gaza border).

The film is rife with these parallels that it feels like a documentary. It is a grim reality: the potential emergence of the first live-streamed genocide, captured by its very architects.

Gaza doesn't mirror the systematic mass murder machinery of Auschwitz, nor does it approach the scale of Nazi atrocities. However, the entire purpose behind establishing the postwar framework of international humanitarian law was to equip us with the means to collectively recognise practices before history repeats itself on a large scale. And disturbingly, some of these practices – such as the construction of walls, creation of ghettos, mass killings, openly stated intentions of elimination, widespread starvation, plundering, gleeful dehumanisation, and deliberate humiliation – are recurring. And have been long before October 7th.

How do we disrupt the cycle of trivialisation and normalisation? What actions can we take? There are persistent protests and acts of civil disobedience to "uncommitted" votes, disrupting events, organising aid convoys, fundraising for refugees, and creating radical works of art.

And as genocide fades further into the background of our culture, some people grow too desperate for any of these efforts. I am certainly one of them.

Yet, these efforts seem insufficient, particularly when those in positions of power remain indifferent. It's insufficient when I watch a video of a little girl saying that the violence has made her feel less beautiful before she talks about her father being kidnapped by Israeli soldiers or of the orphans visiting their mother's burial spot in the street. It is insufficient when the death toll rises to exceed the daily death toll of any other major conflict of the 21st century.

Perhaps it's unfair of me to prioritise one tragedy over another, given the multitude of suffering in the world – the ones that are in the news cycle and the ones that are not. Yet, my connection to Palestine and its plight feels as personal as it can be without me actually being Palestinian, fostered from childhood teachings and further enriched through my own research. I have loved ones directly impacted by this conflict: friends in the diaspora grappling with survivor's guilt, friends in the West Bank enduring the daily hardships of occupation. And my friends in Gaza are all either dead, dying or being pushed straight into the arms of death.

The realisation that my efforts to help them are insufficient fills me with frustration. I'm angered by the indifference of those in power and by the hostility encountered by those attempting to bring the truth to the forefront.

[callsigns-haze]

All High

Chp 1

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader

Summary: When there's an forced entry in the Beyonds woods is this the last time the Phoenii are protected?

Warning: Mentions of death and drinking, mentions of violence, angst, blood, fluff

*Serves as a one-shot but can be read as memories fade or the sequel loves haze series or now as All High

Eris lay in bed beside Y/N, the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains casting a gentle glow on their cabin. It was 4:26 in the morning, the time when the world was at its quietest. Eris woke first, his eyes opening to the serene sight of his mate peacefully sleeping beside him. He couldn’t help but smile as he gazed at her, marvelling at how beautiful she looked even in her sleep.

Gently, he ran his fingers through her strawberry blonde hair, still amazed that she had dyed it that colour just for him. The strands felt like silk under his touch still in her natural dark colour, and he marvelled at the way the moonlight danced across them, highlighting the subtle variations in colour. He leaned in closer, pressing his lips to her shoulder, planting delicate kisses along her skin. He could feel her warmth radiating beneath his lips, her steady breaths a soothing rhythm against his chest.

He kissed his way down her back, each kiss a silent declaration of love and gratitude. The soft sigh that escaped her lips as she began to stir sent a wave of tenderness through him. Her eyes fluttered open, their usual brightness dulled by sleep, but the love and trust in them were unmistakable as she turned to face him.

"Why are you up so early?" she asked, her voice a sleepy whisper, filled with curiosity and affection. She nestled closer to him, her head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Eris smiled softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along her arm. "I'm used to getting up this early," he replied. "Our little Avey will be awake soon, and anyway, we need to wake Finna up soon too."

Y/N sighed contentedly, her fingers lightly tracing circles on his chest. "You’re always thinking ahead," she murmured, her voice filled with affection and a touch of admiration. "But right now, let's just enjoy these few quiet moments together, and please shh."

Eris nodded, pulling her closer into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. "I wouldn’t trade this for anything," he said, his voice a tender whisper. "These moments with you, they're everything to me."

They lay there in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other's presence. Eris continued to run his fingers through her hair, occasionally pressing kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. Each touch, each kiss, was a reaffirmation of his love and devotion. The quiet was a rare luxury, a precious gift in the midst of their busy lives.

Just as the first light of dawn began to creep into the room, they heard a soft cry from down the hall. Eris's ears perked up, recognizing the sound immediately.

"That's Avey," he said with a gentle smile, pressing one last kiss to Y/N's lips. "Looks like our little one is awake."

Y/N sighed and smiled, her eyes still heavy with sleep but filled with love. "She's got good timing," she murmured, nestling closer to Eris for one more moment of warmth before they had to get up.

Eris reluctantly let go, rolling out of bed and stretching. "You stay here for a moment," he said, tucking the covers back around Y/N. "I'll go get Avey and check on Finna."

Y/N watched him go, her heart full of love and gratitude for the man who had become her everything. Moments later, she heard Avey's cries quiet as Eris comforted their daughter, and she couldn't help but smile.

As he entered the nursery, the sight of his daughter standing in her crib, clutching her favourite blanket and rubbing her eyes, melted his heart.

“Hey, little one,” he whispered gently, lifting her from the crib and cradling her in his arms. Avey's cries turned to soft whimpers as she nestled against his chest, her tiny fingers clutching his shirt.

“Shh, it’s alright, Avey. Daddy’s here,” he murmured, rocking her back and forth. He ran his fingers through her fine hair, his touch soothing and familiar. Avey’s whimpers gradually ceased, replaced by the steady rhythm of her breathing as she calmed down in his embrace.

He hummed a soft lullaby, the same one his mother had sung to him when he was a child along with his brothers . Avey’s eyes slowly fluttered closed, her small body relaxing completely against him. Eris continued to rock her gently, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before carrying her over to the changing table.

“Let’s get you changed and comfy,” he whispered, carefully laying her down and going through the familiar routine of changing her diaper and dressing her in a fresh onesie. Avey stirred slightly but remained mostly asleep, her trust in him absolute.

Once she was comfortable, Eris lifted her again, holding her close as he made his way to Finna’s room. He pushed open the door quietly, peeking inside to check on his son. Finna was sprawled out in his toddler bed, his soft snores filling the room. Eris couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Satisfied that Finna was still sound asleep, Eris gently closed the door and headed back to the nursery, settling into the rocking chair with Avey in his arms. He rocked her slowly, humming the lullaby again until she was deeply asleep.

Finally, he stood up, carrying her back to her crib and laying her down with utmost care. He tucked her blanket around her and brushed a final kiss across her forehead. “Sleep well, my little princess,” he whispered before quietly exiting the room and heading back to his own bed, where Y/N waited, a sleepy smile on her face.

“Is she alright?” Y/N asked softly as Eris climbed back into bed beside her.

“She’s perfect,” Eris replied, pulling her into his arms. “And Finna is still asleep too. Let’s get a little more rest before they both wake up.”

Y/N snuggled closer, her eyes already drifting closed. “Thank you, Er,” she murmured, her voice filled with love and contentment.

Eris held her close, the warmth of her body a comfort against his. “Always,” he whispered, closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift back to sleep, grateful for these precious moments with his family.

---

Ever since Eris and Y/N had risen to life like phoenixes, they had devoted themselves to caring for the land beyond the forest. Their resurrection had brought them closer, their bond forged anew in the fires of their shared history and love. The land they tended was a place of magic and wonder, thriving under their watchful eyes and nurturing hands.

Eris waking up at seven to run the business was nothing new. The responsibilities of maintaining their realm required constant attention, but he had found a balance that allowed him to fulfil his duties while still cherishing time with his family. Today, however, his schedule included a longer meeting in the town hall, and he needed to get dressed and leave before Y/N woke up.

As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Eris quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Y/N. She slept peacefully, her soft breaths a soothing reminder of their shared journey. He gazed at her for a moment, the sight of her tranquil face filling him with love and determination.

Eris moved through their cozy cabin with practiced silence. He brewed a pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen as he sipped from his mug, reviewing the documents for his meeting. The task at hand involved coordinating efforts with the nearby village, ensuring that their resources were distributed fairly and efficiently.

After finishing his coffee, Eris dressed in his formal attire, the garments a blend of practicality. He checked his reflection briefly in the mirror, adjusting his collar and smoothing his hair. Satisfied, he scribbled a quick note for Y/N, leaving it on the kitchen table where she would easily find it:

“Good morning, love. Had to leave early for a meeting in town. Be back soon. Lets take the kids to the lake today. I love you. —Your Flame.”

Y/N stirred as the first rays of dawn peeked through the cabin window. Eris had left early for a meeting in town, leaving her to wake the kids and get them ready on her own. It was a routine morning task, but one she approached with a mixture of determination and fondness for her little ones.

She slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb Eris, but realised who was already gone. Padding down the hall, she peeked into Finna's room first. He was curled up under his favourite blanket, his tousled hair framing his peaceful face. Y/N smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead before gently shaking his shoulder.

"Finna, sweetheart, time to wake up," she whispered.

Finna stirred and blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "Mommy?"

"Yes, it's time to get up, little one," Y/N replied, pulling back his covers and helping him sit up. "Daddy had to leave early this morning, so it's just us today."

Finna nodded, a small frown creasing his brow as he processed the information. Y/N knew he missed his father when he was away but trusted that their morning together would bring comfort.

After dressing Finna in his favourite shirt and pants, Y/N moved on to Avey's nursery. Her daughter was already awake, cooing softly in her crib. Y/N scooped Avey up into her arms, smiling at the baby's gurgles of delight.

"Good morning, my sweet girl," Y/N murmured, pressing a kiss to Avey's chubby cheek. "Let's get you changed and ready for the day."

With gentle efficiency, Y/N changed Avey's diaper and dressed her in a soft, floral onesie. Avey reached up, grasping Y/N's finger with her tiny hand, her dark eyes wide and curious.

Once both children were dressed, Y/N led them to the kitchen for breakfast. Finna eagerly dug into his cereal with slight assistance from you, occasionally stealing glances at the empty chair where Eris usually sat. Y/N’s heart squeezed at the sight, but she maintained a calm demeanour for her children.

As they finished eating, Y/N wiped Finna's face clean and turned to him with a bright smile. "How about we go wild strawberry picking today while Daddy works? Remember how fun it was last time?"

Finna's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, Mommy! Can we bring some back for Daddy?"

"Of course," Y/N replied, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Let's get our baskets ready. Avey, you'll come with us too, won't you?"

Avey gurgled happily, her chubby legs kicking in approval.

With everything prepared, Y/N gathered their supplies and headed out with Finna and Avey in tow. The forest surrounding their cabin was alive with morning sounds, birds singing in the trees and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. The air was crisp and cool, promising a beautiful day ahead.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the peace and beauty of their surroundings. She glanced down at Finna, who skipped along beside her, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"We're going to find the best strawberries, Mommy," Finna declared with confidence.

"I'm sure we will," Y/N replied, her heart swelling with love for her children and the life they had built together, the life Eris could only give her.

Meanwhile, in the distance, Borra, the leader of their armies, quietly observed from a respectful distance. He had been ordered by Eris to watch over his family during his absence. Borra's presence was a reassuring one, a silent guardian ensuring their safety while they enjoyed their morning together in the forest.

Y/N walked through the forest, her heart light as she carried Avey in her arms. Finna was a few steps ahead, his small hands busy plucking the juiciest wild strawberries he could find. The morning was serene, with the soft chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves creating a peaceful symphony.

As she walked, she sensed Borra approaching. She glanced up and saw the leader of their armies making his way towards her, his expression calm and respectful. Y/N knew Eris had sent him to watch over them, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit exasperated by the constant need for supervision.

"Good morning, Lady Y/N," Borra greeted, inclining his head slightly as he approached. His presence was imposing, yet there was a gentleness in his demeanour.

"Good morning, Borra," Y/N replied with a small smile. "How are things?"

"All is well, my lady," he answered, his eyes briefly scanning the surroundings before returning to her. "Eris asked me to ensure your safety while he is away."

Y/N sighed softly, adjusting Avey in her arms. Eris worried about you, about his kids. You appreciated his care but each time he'd bring up the lines, 'I've lost you once and I cant lose either you or the kids, not after last time,' and you're not going to argue with him. "I appreciate the concern, but I am quite capable of taking care of my children and myself."

Borra nodded, understanding her sentiment. "I do not doubt your capabilities, my lady, I know the great power you hold. However, Eris would not forgive himself if anything happened to you or the children in his absence. I am here merely as a precaution."

Y/N studied Borra for a moment, noting the sincerity in his eyes. She knew he was only following orders and genuinely cared for their well-being. "Very well," she conceded with a gentle smile. "You may stay, but please, try to blend in. I don't want Finna to feel like he's under constant guard."

Borra chuckled softly. "I will do my best, my lady."

As they continued walking, Borra fell into step beside Y/N, his presence a silent but reassuring one. They chatted casually about the state of the lands beyond the forest, the progress of the new crops, and other mundane topics. Y/N appreciated the company more than she cared to admit, and Borra's insights were always valuable.

Finna, oblivious to the conversation between his mother and Borra, continued his enthusiastic search for strawberries. He would occasionally call out to Y/N, showing off his finds with a proud smile.

"Mommy, look at this one! It's so big!" Finna exclaimed, holding up a particularly large strawberry.

Y/N beamed at her son. "That's a wonderful one, Finna! You're doing a great job."

Avey squirmed happily in her mother's arms, her tiny fingers reaching out to grasp a stray lock of Y/N's hair. Y/N pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, feeling a swell of love and contentment.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Y/N realized it was time to head back home for lunch. She watched Finna with a fond smile as he continued to gather strawberries, his small basket nearly overflowing with the bright red fruit.

Crouching down beside him, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Finna, sweetheart, we need to head home for lunch now."

Finna looked up at her with a pout, his hazel eyes reflecting his disappointment. "But Mommy, I found so many strawberries! Can't we stay a little longer?"

Y/N chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of his strawberry light brown hair away from his forehead. "I know, my love, and you've done an amazing job. But we need to get home and eat. You don't want to miss lunch, do you?"

Finna's pout deepened, but he reluctantly nodded. "Okay, Mommy."

Y/N stood up, adjusting Avey in her arms as she smiled down at her son. "We'll come back soon, I promise. And we can bring Daddy next time too."

At the mention of his father, Finna's expression brightened a little. "Alright, Mommy. Let's go home."

As they began their journey back, Borra fell into step behind them, maintaining a respectful distance. Y/N appreciated his discretion, knowing he was there to protect them without making Finna feel uncomfortable.

The walk back to the cabin was filled with Finna's excited chatter about all the strawberries he had found and his plans to show them to Eris. Y/N listened with a warm smile, occasionally responding and encouraging his enthusiasm.

Once they reached the cabin, Y/N ushered Finna inside and set Avey down in her crib for a nap. She then began preparing lunch, her mind already thinking of the delightful meal they would share together. Finna climbed up to his seat at the table, his small hands still clutching his basket of strawberries.

"You did a great job today, Finna," Y/N praised, placing a plate of sandwiches in front of him. "Daddy will be so proud of you."

Finna beamed, his earlier disappointment forgotten as he eagerly dug into his lunch.

Y/N was in the middle of helping Finna with his lunch, encouraging him to take bigger bites of his sandwich, when she heard the front door open. A familiar presence filled the cabin, and she looked up to see Eris stepping inside. His ginger red hair was slightly tousled from the wind, and a warm smile spread across his face as he took in the scene.

“Daddy!” Finna exclaimed, his hazel eyes lighting up with excitement. He jumped down from his seat and ran towards Eris, his little arms reaching up for a hug.

Eris crouched down and scooped Finna into his arms, lifting him up effortlessly. “Hey, buddy,” he said, pressing a kiss to Finna’s cheek. “Did you have a good morning with Mommy?”

Finna nodded enthusiastically. “We picked so many strawberries, Daddy! And I found the biggest one ever!”

Eris laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Y/N watched the interaction with a smile, her heart swelling with love. She rose from her seat and walked over to greet Eris. He leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips, his touch tender and filled with affection.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” Y/N said, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face.

Eris nodded, still holding Finna. “The meeting ended sooner than anticipated. I wanted to come home and spend the rest of the day with you all.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Eris looked around the cabin, noticing the absence of their youngest. “Where’s Avey?”

“I put her down for a nap earlier,” Y/N replied. “She was getting a bit fussy.”

Eris nodded, his expression softening. “Good. She needs her rest.”

“Why don’t you join us for lunch?” Y/N suggested, gesturing to the table.

Eris nodded, setting Finna down before taking a seat beside him. Y/N placed a plate of sandwiches in front of him and then returned to help Finna with his meal.

As they all settled in for lunch, the cabin was filled with laughter and conversation. Eris listened intently as Finna recounted their strawberry-picking adventure, his eyes bright with excitement.

After they finished eating, Finna looked up at Eris with pleading eyes. “Daddy, can we go swimming? Please? Since you’re home?”

Eris glanced at Y/N, who gave him an encouraging nod. He smiled and turned back to Finna. “Of course we can, buddy.”

Their cabin was long and set upon a high coast by the side of the lake. Eris had ensured to build a stepway down to the lake, leading to their own little deck. The family headed upstairs to change into their swimwear. Finna could barely contain his excitement as he tugged on his swimsuit, and Eris chuckled at his son's enthusiasm.

Y/N watched from the deck, a content smile on her face as she held Avey. She then stepped into the cool water, walking knee-deep while holding her daughter. Avey giggled at the sensation, her little feet kicking in the water.

Y/N changed into her swimwear as well, then carefully picked up Avey, who had just woken up from her nap. They all made their way down the steps, Finna bouncing with excitement.

They reached the deck, Finna immediately began tugging off his cover-up, eager to jump into the water. Eris followed suit, and soon they were both splashing around in the lake, their laughter echoing across the water.

Eris swam over to the deck and leaned in to kiss Y/N. “Thank you for this,” he whispered. “For everything.”

Y/N returned the kiss, her heart full. “We’re a team, remember?”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow over the lake, Y/N and Eris sat on the lounge chair wrapped in blankets and towels. The cool evening air was a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. Avey lay on Eris's chest, her little body rising and falling with each of his breaths, completely at peace. Finna was snuggled up on Y/N's lap, his soft snores a comforting background to the gentle rustling of the leaves.

---

Eris wrapped an arm around Y/N, pulling her closer. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. The serene moment was perfect, filled with the sounds of nature and the comfort of family.

“Look at her,” Eris murmured, his eyes soft as he gazed down at Avey. “She’s so peaceful.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with love. “Just like her father.”

Eris chuckled quietly, his chest vibrating against Avey. “And Finna? He’s got your spirit, you know.”

Y/N looked down at their son, his light strawberry brown hair tousled from sleep. “He’s our little adventurer,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sky shift through a spectrum of colors. The tranquility of the moment was a stark contrast to the tumultuous journey they had been through. Rising like phoenixes, they had created a haven for themselves and their children.

Eris's fingers traced lazy patterns on Y/N’s arm, his touch a constant reassurance. She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes and soaking in the warmth of his presence. It was moments like these that made everything worth it.

Just as they were about to drift into a shared nap, Borra approached with urgency in his steps. “My lord, my lady,” he said, his voice tense but respectful.

Eris turned to him, concern immediately etching his features. “What is it, Borra?”

Borra took a deep breath, glancing at Y/N before speaking. “There’s someone near the Beyond’s forest. I thought you should know.”

Eris’s expression shifted instantly to one of alertness. He gently handed Avey to Y/N, his eyes meeting hers with a silent message of caution. “Take Avey and Finna inside,” he instructed her firmly. “Borra, stay with them and make sure they’re safe.”

Y/N nodded, her heart quickening with worry but trusting Eris implicitly. She gathered Finna in one arm, balancing Avey in the other, and hurried back to the cabin with Borra close behind her.

As she stepped inside, she looked back at Eris one last time, her eyes conveying both love and concern. He gave her a reassuring nod before turning to address the potential threat. Inside the cabin, Y/N set Avey down in her crib and settled Finna on a couch, his little body still heavy with sleep.

Borra stood by the door, his stance protective. “I’ll be right here, my lady,” he said, his voice steady.

Y/N nodded, grateful for his presence. “Thank you, Borra.”

She glanced out the window, watching Eris disappear into the trees. Her heart ached with worry, but she took a deep breath, focusing on the safety of her children. She knew Eris would do everything in his power to protect them, just as she would.

Borra noticed the tears welling in Y/N's eyes as she stared out the window, her gaze fixed on the spot where Eris had disappeared into the trees. He could see the distress etched on her face, the fear she was trying to keep at bay. Quietly, he approached her, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor.

"Y/N," Borra said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

She turned to him, her composure faltering. "I'm so scared, Borra," she admitted, her voice trembling. "After everything we've been through... I can't bear the thought of losing him."

Borra nodded, understanding the depth of her fear. He pulled her into a comforting embrace, his strong arms providing the support she needed. Despite being the leader of their armies, Borra had always been a close friend to both Eris and Y/N, someone they could rely on in times of need.

"You won't lose him," Borra whispered, his voice firm yet soothing. "Eris is strong, and he’ll do everything in his power to come back to you and the children."

Y/N buried her face in Borra's chest, letting the tears fall freely. The weight of her worries and fears pressed down on her, but Borra's presence was a steady anchor, grounding her in the moment. He held her as she cried, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"I'm sorry," Y/N said, her voice muffled against his shirt. "I shouldn't be falling apart like this."

Borra shook his head, gently lifting her chin so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "You have every right to be scared," he said softly. "You're not alone in this. We're all here for you, and we’ll get through this together."

Y/N nodded, taking a shaky breath as she tried to compose herself. "Thank you, Borra," she whispered. "For everything."

He gave her a small, reassuring smile. "That's what friends are for. And Eris will be back soon, you'll see."

They stood there for a few moments longer, the room filled with a comforting silence. Y/N felt a bit of her fear ease away, replaced by a flicker of hope. She knew Borra was right – they had faced so much already and come out stronger on the other side. This would be no different.

As Y/N pulled back slightly, wiping the tears from her cheeks, she glanced at her children, still peacefully asleep. She felt a surge of determination. For their sake, she had to stay strong. And for Eris, she had to believe in his strength and their love.

Borra squeezed her shoulder one last time before stepping back, giving her the space to collect her thoughts. "I'll keep watch," he said. "If there's any news, you'll be the first to know."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of resolve. "Thank you, Borra," she repeated, her voice steadier now. He gave her a reassuring nod before taking his place by the door, ever vigilant.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

@crossfandomslut

@pit-and-the-pen

@inky-sun

@the-sweet-psycho

@why4anne

@bunnyredgirl

@rcarbo1

@pandabiiissh

@adalia-jaycee

@swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

@minaethrym

[jermer10]

If possible could I ask for yandere tf2 mercs (all or your favourites, whichever you choose!) with an enemy reader?

I imagine the mercs aren't too happy about this as most of their time is spent apart.

Keep up the fics!!

TF2 yandere mercs with an enemy s/o

nsfw, gn reader | i love yandere mercs holy cow

tw: violence, yandere behaviour, sexual themes

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: - insanely delusional - just as he acts with pauling, he convinces himself that you are totally and utterly in love with him, that you're saving yourself for him and that you specifically target him during battles because you feel the exact same love-rage he does when he sees you!! - every shot to the head, every punch, kick, scratch leads him to becoming increasingly infatuated - he treats you as if you're already his partner, and i mean hey, why wouldn't you be? you're showing all of the signs! you're practically slobbering over him the same way he does to you! - goes into a fit of jealous rage when someone else kills you - he prides himself of having a domination streak over you, letting you know who the big guy in charge is - this likely only serves to piss you off, unfortunately you probably don't feel much of the same towards him - even if you do return his feelings, you'll often find yourself feeling far too overwhelmed with his infatuation

Soldier: - a clingy mess - for a man who prides himself on being 'the epitome of what independent, masculine america stands for' (whatever THAT means), it seems he has attached himself to your hip - is not afraid to harm or (in the majority of cases) straight up kill someone who tries to separate him from you and has done this both in front of you and behind your back - doesn't even register the fact that you are the enemy, he decides that it was a mistake and you were always meant to be on his team - your escape attempts barely cross his radar, he always finds you and when he does he always chalks your absence up to some sort of foul play - this usually results in another death of a random loved one because "OF COURSE THEY WERE TO BLAME! THEY STOLE YOU FROM ME!" - has no boundaries or limits, not outright violent or aggressive towards you but will do anything in order to keep you beside him - all in all not a huge threat to your safety despite the fact that he is supposed to be your combatant, he's just incredibly annoying

Pyro: - the epitome of a sadistic yandere - they come off as a sweetheart, out of battle they buy you things, shower you in praise, act as if you aren't even enemies - but pyro enjoys hurting you, and this especially works in their favour when you're on the opposite team - utterly ruthless whether they're physically harming you or taunting you from across the battlefield, you leave the match feeling miserable - they love seeing you cry, half-assedly comforting you, and in turn causing you to grow this needy codependency where they say that they "don't reeeeaaally mean it!" and you somehow continue to believe that bold faced lie - they will eventually kidnap you, and yes they will torture you whether you've been good or not - no one even knows it was them who did it, they're just that convincing in their unassuming facade - don't get me wrong! they do love you in some sick way! they just only know how to express it through violence </3 (and NO you cannot fix them)

Demoman: - another clingy merc, only this time you're best friends - yes, he is aware you're supposed to be enemies on and off the battlefield, but his feelings for you outweigh the not so gentle reminders from his teammates that he needs to shoot you when he encounters you, not flirt - extremely manipulative, he uses his alcoholism as a cover for how intelligent he really is - would charm you with words of affection and chaste touches, he ensures that you are 100% into him before asking you out - then he isolates you from everyone you love, preoccupying all of your time, supporting you in any interest that doesn't require you to communicate with other people - he is CONSTANTLY there, whether you're aware or not. you literally cannot get away from his, quite literal, watchful eye - if you realize what he's doing, you sure as hell haven't made any steps to try and remove him from your life, nor have you set boundaries - after all, where would you even run? who would you even tell?

Heavy: - controlling and protective - he refuses to harm you, nor let anyone on his team harm you, this leads him to completely incapacitating you during battle so you're essentially useless - your teammates hate the extra attention you receive, they hate even more that you can't help whatsoever, eventually they tell you to stay at base, no use for you to come with if you're not doing anything - eventually when you do go missing, they just assume you left - heavy corroborates this story, telling the Administrator that he heard rumours of you packing up during the night and fucking off - little do they know you're tied up, gagged, and blindfolded in an unused, heavily locked and guarded maintenance room - he will not let you leave, he's more likely to pack up and take you back to russia than to ever let you see the new mexico landscape again - you are going to rot in a maintenance closet, or die trying to escape

Engineer: - very chill and normal surprisingly? - or so you think. he doesn't come off as creepy or odd the way the other mercs do, he is totally and utterly normal to a fault - he fights you during battle, kills you, dies to you, thanks you for a good fight afterwards - and then your devices begin spasming, your anti viruses go off, your phone calls have a strange staticky sound and a beeping you've never heard before - against your better judgement, you go to engie for help. he "fixes" them for you, and in the process gains your friendship and trust - you start hanging out with him outside of battles, unbeknownst to you that he is observing your every move and thought through your phone and laptop - uses this information about you to become closer to you, buying you gifts you're unable to afford for yourself, performing the kinds of romantic gestures you read about - if he wasn't constantly watching you and obsessing over your whereabouts, he would barely even qualify as a yandere!

Medic: - this guy is creepy, off-putting, odd, and strange! - he doesn't bother hiding his obsession with you, he actually goes out of his way to push your boundaries to see how far he can go before he breaks you - depending on how you respond will decide your fate with him, either way he is not going to let you go so you might as well adapt! - if you show outright disgust or hatred he will kidnap you and store you in the medbay, experimenting on you for hours with no relief, punishing you for your insolence - if you reciprocate he will still kidnap you, only this time he treats you like a doll, treating your various cosmetic 'ailments' in order to make you the perfect creature - he is incredibly strict and commandeering, if you step out of line for even a second he does not hesitate to torture you - he only rewards you with sexual favours and new clothes, you are quite literally just a doll for his enjoyment - he tells you he loves you, but you're not so sure you believe it

Sniper: - likes to hunt you - he treats you like how one would hunt a deer, seeing you as the ultimate prize and reward for his patience - wants you to find out about him, wants you to find it endearing and sexy, wants you to make the first move - he is the most self aware, snapping out of his obsessive haze regularly and vowing that 'this time will be the last' as he aims his sniper at your head and blows it off - but it never is. he is totally and utterly addicted to you, and it only gets worse the longer he waits for you to offer yourself to him, so he takes action - he corners you in the middle of a battle and takes you then and there, you'd think it was sexy if he didn't kill you immediately after - then a strange, sadistic game of cat and mouse ensues, he stalks you day in and out and you know, you entice, and you keep this little thing you have going a very well kept secret - the only relationship between the mercs that becomes mutually beneficial

Spy: - by far the most manipulative and cunning merc - he can spend years leading you on, flirting, dropping subtle hints of his overwhelming, consuming obsession with you - he showers you will affection and gifts, with luxury holidays and designer brands without ever actually committing to you - he lies about sleeping with other people to keep you wrapped around his finger, he lies about having another family, kids, another life - he treats you as if you're his special side piece, that no one must know about you, that what you have is a secret - he constantly backstabs you (literally and figuratively), both teams know your deepest secrets, they know your favourite position, they know the names of all your stuffed animals - he treats you like shit and promises to be better, all whilst staying up every night concocting another way to keep you intrigued with him, to keep you by his side, it eats him alive - you have a love/hate relationship, the most toxic man alive istg

[luveline]

If you’re taking requests can I request a Drabble on kbd au or zombie au? Nothing specific I’d read anything you wrote about either!!

for you my love, ty for requesting <3 steve zombie au! you and Steve get back to basics and go on a duo supply run together, and afterwards he’s tired in more way than one </3 fem!reader, 3k. TW for zombie apocalypse typical violence and gore

Steve caves the geek’s skull in with one well-timed thwack.

You don't cheer, this is grim work, but you smile at him as he rubs the wet spray of blood from his shaven cheek. Things are finally getting better —you found a bunch of necessities at a mom and pop soap store a few days ago, so Steve has been able to clean up, and you've managed to wash the ten layers of grease from your face. You feel good. 

"Good job," you say, speaking in a hush. 

Steve hasn't been very happy lately, and you don't like making it worse. Which isn't to say you're on eggshells or anything, but keeping a low profile ensures better chances of survival, and better chances of survival cheer him up. 

He smiles back, and it's a total victory. The happiest he's looked in days, Steve wipes his baseball bat against the side of a vinyl seat with a pleased air about him. Best zombie killer ever. 

You've shouldered your way into a traditional American diner. The interior is basically untouched, which is extremely exciting, as the prospects of finding food and batteries is high. The floor is thick tile, the tables between booths solid pine. It's an expensive looking establishment. The padlock on the front and back doors makes more sense now. 

"Am I staying here?" you ask.

Steve squeezes your hand very gently. They're still tender from your infamous crawl across broken glass, and he can't stand hurting you. 

"You're coming with me. Back to back, don't speak, we'll clear the room and open the kitchen door," he says quietly. 

The kitchen door, which is ominously closed behind the serving counter. 

You nod and give him a sticky sweet smile, hoping it says how much you like him. Love him. He looks around the diner quickly and then leans in to kiss your cheek. He doesn't believe in affection on the road because it distracts the both of you. False sense of security. 

"Ready?" he asks. 

You turn on the spot with your back to him. You'd think it was overkill to be so cautious if you hadn't done it a hundred times before, admittedly a long time ago, barely knowing one another as you scrounged from state to state. His shoulders are broad and solid against yours, and you trust him not to let you get hurt as you walk backwards into the room. He checks under every table and behind each of the rooms wrap around corners. 

"Good?" you ask. 

"Perfect. Alright, you can sit down if you want to." 

"Are you joking?" you ask, following him to the counter. He pulls up the hinged counter and holds it up for you to sidle past him, your hips rubbing. "'Scuse me." 

He laughs under his breath. You'd miss it if you didn't know how it sounds, a gentle puff of air. 

"Knife?" he asks. 

"Yep." 

Steve kicks the door open with his foot. It's on a swivel, and he has to hold it open, bat extended, ready for a danger that doesn't present itself. He hits his bat against the door a few times to see if the noise will attract anything, but the building is officially empty of geeks. 

Then, proof that it's your Steve, boyfriend Steve, the Steve who's kissed tears off of your cheeks, Steve who whispers gossip under the covers like you're teenagers at a slumber party, he turns from the swinging kitchen door and grabs you by the waist. 

"Good work, team," he says, hugging you so hard your heels lift off of the tiled floor. 

You let yourself squeak. "Hoh, you're getting strong again, H, might wanna lay off of the canned ravioli." 

"No, I need to be tough to keep all the bachelors off of my girl." 

Bachelors is the name he's started giving to geeks, on account of the tuxedo wearing one you encountered a few days ago. "What's that eligible bachelor doing?" he'd asked. You'd laughed loudly (potentially giving away your location to unfriendlies) and he'd been moody for an hour afterwards, though he did tell you, "Sorry, it's my bad for making a joke, I'm not mad at you." 

He's like two people, sometimes. The Steve who got comfortable at The College, carefree and sweet, and the Steve who had to look after the two of you for months all by himself. And that's not fair to you to state it like that, you definitely weren't helpless, but you didn't have the survival skills he did. He could fight, for one, and he knew how to use a map, he had better stamina from years of sports and competitive track and swimming, while you were a slightly slovenly creature who'd never hurt anyone. You had no idea how to cave in a skull, and what's more, you didn't have the will. 

He can't decide whether he needs to be on full alert or not. 

It's hard to know what to say to him. He needs a life worth living, one where he isn't constantly anxious, but he won't have any life at all if he lets it too loose. You just want him to be happy. 

"Steve?" 

"What?" 

"Did you have a favourite song?" 

He's surprised. "Like, before?" 

"Yeah." You step out of his space. He turns his head to keep eye contact with you but walks into the kitchen, bat still in front of him so he'll feel it if he's approached. "You liked Wham, right?" 

"What gives you that idea?" 

"You look like you liked Wham." 

"Well, I didn't. I liked Blondie, and Bob Dylan, and Fleetwood Mac–" 

"I thought you hate Blondie?" you ask. 

"Who told you that, Robin?"  

"Who else?" 

The kitchen is dimly lit, not a whole lot of sunlight filtering through. You scrounge in your pockets for your tiny hand-pump flashlight and start squeezing it. The sound goes through Steve, but he likes being able to see. You point the light, he opens cabinet doors. The first is empty, weirdly. The second is full of plates, the third more plates, the fourth cups and a spider big enough to make you both flinch. 

"I kind of liked Wham," he admits eventually. "That Wake Me Up song was catchy." 

"Yeah?" You hum the first line, not quite singing. "Does anyone know the words after that?" 

"Nope. Just do that bit again." 

You do as he asks. He grins at you, and it feels like a prize. 

The cabinets reveal nothing edible. 

"Is there a pantry?" you ask, turning in a circle. 

"If there is, you won't be going in there," he says. 

One time he told you to look inside a walk-in freezer and you almost died. Disaster. 

"That's fine by me," you say, running your finger across the top of an old sterling grill. There's grease stains in circles, like somebody could've made a burger on it yesterday. Artefacts of the past. 

"Here," Steve says, kicking the bottom of a second door. "Pantry." He knocks against it with the baseball bat a few times and you both wait for something to stir. 

Miraculously, nothing does. 

He tries to pull it open but you're distracted, he has something in his hair. You lean up on your toes and turn his head down. 

"What are you doing?" 

"You have a leaf in your hair." You rake the leaf out of his hair. 

It's like the fluff of downy feather, soft from a good scrub last night. Shampoo hardly ever spoils, and you can find it everywhere, in every house and every store. You get distracted, leaf discarded, and comb your fingers through his hair. It's mostly a selfish action, but you hope he feels loved. 

"I know you got it out by now." 

"It's soft…" You stroke his hair back out of his face. "Okay, done." 

"Thanks," he says gently. 

Steve guides you back with an arm and pulls open the pantry door. A bad smell comes with it, not the stink of festering garbage but the smell after, when every bit of freshness has been eaten. It's like methane. You frown and peer over Steve's shoulder at the state of the room. The majority of perishables are perished, boxes of what must've been lettuce and tomatoes crushed and dried like they'd been soggy at one point, a brown stain over the bottom. There are dead flies on every shelf. 

But after some searching, you and Steve find what you'd been hoping to find; powdered eggs, canned corn, canned artichoke, condensed milk, a treasure of ingredients. It's enough to keep you both fed for a while, but when you take it back to the makeshift camp where you're staying it'll be split up between more than forty people —you and Steve have bought the camp a day. 

You're happy to have found the food you needed but the situation still feels of questionable stability. 

Steve heads back to the front of the diner for the wheelbarrow you'd brought along. This is the sticky part, because the world isn't as uninhabited as it looks, and the trek home will be one you spend weaving behind buildings and into alleyways, out of sight from the many tall buildings of the city you've encroached upon. 

You load the cans into the wheelbarrow and look for can openers, knives, and batteries. You find the can openers and knives easily, but the battery front is lacklustre. You suppose there's no use for anything battery powered in a restaurant like this. 

"This wouldn't be such a bad place to stay if the windows were so big. We could sleep on the booth seats, maybe trick the generator out back and turn on the grill." 

Steve wipes his forehead and stations the wheelbarrow at the front entrance. "If the gas line worked. Why, what do you want grilled?" 

"We could have grilled catfish," you suggest. 

"Where are you gonna catch a catfish?" 

"In the river." 

"The only thing in that river is frogs and carp, babe." 

"You don't mind carp." 

"But you don't like frogs," he says, "stupid river." Steve looks back at the wheelbarrow of cans. "Alright, pick one." 

"Steve, I can't." 

"Yeah, you can. We risked our lives coming out here, so you get to choose something, and you get to eat it." Steve tries to sound light and unbothered by it, but the guilt that plagues you at the idea of eating something without sharing infects him too, even if he tries to bite it back. "Please. Everyone else doing these runs does the same thing, and Joyce knows that." 

"But you don't want to," you say. 

"I want you fed." 

"And I want you to be able to live with yourself. I do think we deserve it," you admit. "Especially you. But I know you feel bad, thinking about the kids. We're sharers, Steve." 

"We're sharers," he agrees, giving the wheelbarrow a nudge with his knee. "Too bad. I could eat that condensed milk with a spoon." 

"Me too." 

It doesn't take long to get back to the camp. It's stressful but uneventful, and soon you can hear the hushed whispering of the kids old enough to know they need to be quiet and the louder bells of kids too little to get it. 

Robin bounds up from the ring around the smouldering fire and hugs you, then Steve. Jeremy, co-leader of the old community and second in command of the new, immediately delegates someone to note down what you've found and start rationing the evening meal. 

"Are you okay?" Steve asks Robin, hands on her shoulders. He ignores the Well done thrown his way. 

"I'm fine. You guys good?" she asks, scanning your two bodies. 

You move from foot to foot on the packed earth and stone beneath. You're sore all over, and walking makes you tired. "We're perfect. I'm gonna go lie down." 

"We'll come with you," Robin says. 

Steve quickly seconds her suggestion. You move through the pitched tents until you come across the one shared by the three of you. On the floor is the only thing you had left, a single blanket you'd found in the woodland surrounding The College. It's rumpled and dirty, because your tent isn't a tent but a tarp on stilts, and the floor is grass and earth. 

You duck your head and sit in the corner, pulling your shoes off of your hot feet and massaging your hurting toes. Your shoes don't fit. They're not really your shoes. 

Steve comes in second and Robin third. There isn't enough room for all of you but you've made it work every night since you got here. 

Steve grabs one of your ankles and pulls you with force toward him. You laugh weirdly —it's a great laugh, stuck in your throat, happy that he's touching you and exhausted from a long day— and end up flat on your back in your coat and stiff jeans. Steve takes off his coat and jacket, balling the jacket up into a vaguely pillow shaped blob to put under your head. 

You grab his hand and squeeze it in a silent thank you.

Robin lies down beside you. She puts her head on your arm. 

"I want to come next time," she says. 

"Okay." 

"I don't like being here without you guys." 

"Okay, then you'll come," Steve says. "Did something happen?" 

"It's just not worth it, even if I'm tired, you guys being gone is exhausting 'cos I'm constantly worrying you've–" She shrugs. "It wasn't as scary when you had guns and an entourage, but now the only thing between you guys and me never seeing you again is a baseball bat." 

"A metal baseball bat." 

"Whatever." 

"You should come just so you see how not dangerous it is," you say. 

"That's not true," Steve says. 

"Was he being overprotective?" Robin asks you. 

"Yes. He yelled at me for coughing at the top of the hill and he got all broody when we couldn't cut the padlock off with the bolt cutters for like, half an hour." 

Steve pushes your pant leg up and starts to massage your calf. There's nothing but love in his touch, and you take it as an apology for his moody behaviour, even though it doesn't have to be one. He shouldn't say sorry for responding to insane pressure with unhappy emotions. He should, however, keep massaging you. It feels nice. 

"Did he actually yell?" Robin asks, laughing. 

"I'm still here," Steve reminds you both. 

"Nah, just said, 'cover your mouth, dummy, these trees are full of geeks,'" you tell her. 

"Did you really say that? The trees are full of geeks?" Robin asks, giggling still. 

You laugh with her. Steve gets a funny look on his face, happy and sad for a split second. It disappears, and you know from the slope of his brows that he's going to make a bad joke. 

"I didn't. I said the trees were full of bachelors," Steve says. "And that if they heard her pretty, dainty coughing they'd steal her away from me. She'd be a zombie bride." 

"Can a cough be dainty?" Robin asks. 

"You tell me," Steve says. "It sounded like this." He hacks like an old man, hunched over your feet in his lap. 

You and Robin both boo. 

"You don't think I have a nice cough?" he asks. "Come on." 

Robin hides her face in your arm. "I've been away from society for so long that I'm starting to find his half-assed jokes funny." 

You wiggle your feet in his lap. 

"You wish you had my sense of humour," Steve says. 

"Oh, hey, guess what Steve was singing for me earlier," you butt in. "Wham." 

"Really?" 

"Spirit of George Michael fell through him." 

Steve really laughs at that one, clutching your leg to his chest. You smile, startled at his reaction, more when he pushes his hand under your knee and says, "Hey, are you saying I can't sing?" 

"I'm sure I caught you on a bad day," you comfort. 

He laughs more —Steve laughs so hard you think he might cry. It can't be that funny, you know you're not a comedian and never have been. 

Robin picks up on it too. 

He's had a long day, a longer week, and he's taut as a string pulled from one pole of the earth to the other. You sit up despite your protesting back and sling your arm around his shoulders. His laughing calms, and he goes deathly quiet. 

"You wanna get some rest?" you murmur. 

He closes his eyes. "Yeah." 

Robin shuffles up. The three of you lie there for a while, and eventually he falls asleep. You and Robin chat in whispers until she ends up sleeping too. Without the distractions of TV and the radio, you can't blame them. 

You turn away from Robin to stare at Steve as he sleeps, your hand stroking his forehead and his silky soft hairline. 

When he wakes up later, he's feeling better. Things aren’t totally fixed, but he’s well enough to scold you for letting him sleep through the dinner bell.

"You didn't eat dinner?" he asks, somehow croaky and stern at the same time. "What's wrong with you? Get up, honey, we'll find you something to eat. Buckley, are you hungry? You girls will be the death of me, I swear." 

[yanderesimp2000]

Extreme Yandere Adam x Fem reader Chap 1/5 Start of your new life !MINORS STAY AWAY!

(hey this is my first post here Just wanna say my english might be bad since I'm from Armenia but I'm excited to post here I USED ALOT OF INSPO FROM OTHER ADAM WRITES TO here are the TWS

Kidnapping, Adam being an incel as usual, threats of violence , Degrading, Manipluation, Violence, Noncon listener, threats of SA ,Gasliting, narcissism and rape if that's not your cup of tea SCROLL

Your are an angel You made it into Heaven recently Heaven would be like a paradise but is kinda like your old life in the big city You have to get a job buy things and Just deal with the classic shit of reality even though your in the FUCKING PROMISELAND

You decided to just be what you did back in Yerevan city and just be a secretary but it was the person to hire you that was strange it was Adam the First man when you met him you expected him to be some wise, kind and Gentle soul but instead you got a creepy, weird man child that you needed to cater to at every Second, Like you could just be standing in Adams office when he says "hey bitch bring me that soda bottle" the bottle was 2 inches out of reach. It seemed like he took pleasure in seeing you be miserable he always said "good girl good good girly" LIKE YOU ARE A FUCKING PET

Every second of your time with Adam was hell he was rude gross and was a FUCKING MISOGYNIST today while you were giving him a back massage he said "yes good girly" again as usual like you were a fucking pet but then he said "that's all you women are good for to serve men" this Made you even more angry but hey the pay is good and that Leeds to today You walk in sad as usual into Adam mansion when he starts making comments about something your already insecure of your wings he rubbed your wings and he then said "heh bitch your wings are so dirty you a fuckin slob yknow that but a hot one at that" he then Grabbed your ass and that's when you broke "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME" you yelled "I QUIT" you then storm of and back into your apartment crying about the insult of your wings and just fed up in general But that's when you get a text from Adam he always texted you when you were working for him but you quit it read "You really thought you could leave me you DUMB WHORE I treated you soo well I gave you everything you could of wanted and this I how you repay me I don't even need you you stupid fucking slut"

You were used to Adams shit by now but this this was just something else you text back "Adam stop messaging me Ill be back tomorrow at 10 am to get my stuff from my office and you better not try ANYTHING" he then responds "why would I try to interact with a brain dead whore anyway" that hurts you but you brush it off "being verbally abused by that dickhead isn't worth the pay" you thought before going to sleep

The next day you woke up at your alarm you got dressed but on a casual Black hoodie with Sweat pants because you weren't doing anything today other then going to Adams mansion to pick up your stuff. you flew over to his mansion only A 13 minute fly before landing at the door you were nervous but you knocked you waited and waited until someone opened the door "wow the whore really had the nerve to show her face again' He snarled "well I cant be to mad at you your fucking hot all we have to do to make your perfect is Shave down those ugly wings" he said in a arrogant tone. You walk inside and go to were your stuff is before you hear Adam locking the door 'what the fuck are you doing Adam" you snarl His mask lights up into those annoying little circle eyes he looks like a giddy child

"well I Talked to The big man upstairs if you get what I'm saying and since he would NEVER Say no to his precious Adam his first creation the person who gets ALL his love and affection he said I could keep you since your such a low ranking angel and you have no family in heaven no one will miss you " He still looked like a giddy child while saying this as all of a sudden He pulled out a stunning ring filled with jewelry and gems and luxury "cmere" he says before Walking towards you he towered over you, you were a quite short and small angel being only 5,5 and he was a Huge 13,2 foot angel. " ADAM THIS IS NOT FUNNY" you yelled at him but he said "Bitch? its not supposed to now were gonna cuddle and snuggle because Im feeling lonely and you cant do JACK SHIT" he sounded firm and serious you were scared and try to make a run for it but were tackled down "fuckin bitch your not escapin" he said before tossing you over his shoulders and taking you into his room upstairs and throwing you onto the bed before "cuddling" with you which was more like Wrestling a teddy bear he managed to restrain you with ease and he giggles "I love small girls like you so short and weak easy for me to... Manhandle" he says in an ominous tone you keep squirming and this just makes him giggle "so feisty" he says "don't worry my little Slut I'll fix you sooner or later I'll break your brain down till its just mush then I'll rebuild it to my liking and then you'll be loyal to me just me unlike those last 2 whores I married ill make sure you never leave" he says in a low coo ''i don't like you adam' you hissed he then got surprised "oh talking back to me don't you know who I am Im Adam the first man and your my new Wife you were created from my fucking rib you have to that me for your existance Im a superior being and your just my Wife you should me grateful so many people would beg to be in my presence and your trying to leave it ungrateful whore" he hissed as he started down at you you noticed he was starting to undress first his shirt then his pants then his Underwear but he kept that stupid mask on

His dick is fucking massive it was huge or maybe you are just small but damn and around it is just a bush of his grey hair He even has a piercing on his cock and his dad Bod OMG but as much as you hate it he was hot "like what you see" Adam teased you try to squirm away only angering him Well if your gonna resist I guess I'm gonna have to fuck that tiny pussy lose he said eagerly before starting to Teasing his cock around the hole "sh sh sh sh sh shhhh let it happen" Adam cooed "your my new wife you like this you have to your just in denial" he giggled before saying "Oh your sooo small My dick might kill you I bet I'd bet I'm like I don't know fucking 11 feet taller then you and my dick is huger then anything I've bet you've seen" he teased while rubbing his cock at the entrance of your pussy "damn it I just cant hold back" Adam yelled "p-p-please stop Adam" you whimpered but it just turned him on more as he said "going in bitch" suddenly you feel his entire dick in you it was huge and painful you were not enjoying yourself but Adam was "f-fuck babe I'm fucking you loose" he laughed as he kept fucking me so hard I felt like I was gonna throw up blood and organs he rearranged with every thrust it felt like a new bone in your body was being reangared you tried to flap your useless little wings which just made him think you were even more about how precious you are "that's so cute the only thing I dislike about you is your wings they get in my way might have to clip your wings soon" he teased scaring you He kept thrusting and more and more got hurt the more you pleaded whimpered yelped winces or squealed the more turned on he got as he was thrusting he laughed at the bulge in your stomach from his dick "it went to far in you really do like this ya whore"

You let out a whimper when he said that and that was the turning point he said "f-fuckkkkk I'm cummingim cumming" before long ropes of the warm jizz entered your pussy "yeah get pregnant bitch that's your only purpose breeding machines for men" he said at you and said let me clean myself up He then gets a rag and clean you and him up before seeming to get more gentle

"look I'm sorry when I get horny I go feral this is not how I am most of the time your just so fucking hot I just c-cant control myself" he said while cuddling you "I love you I really do and this world is cruel you have no family here no friends Nobody I'm the only one you have so im taking you under my wing figurative and literally" he said laughing since he tucked you in between his warm chubby chest and his soft comforting wings he then gets really soft and says "I've seen you on your own and your in so much danger so many people will try to take advantage of you and you have nobody to run to but me so I take it as my duty to protect you and coddle you like the cute little toy your are" he says that in a low coo while petting you his soft voice seemingly temporally calming you down you start to stop Wriggle and start giving up and snuggling into him causing him to turn bright red "their ya go girlly your a good little Beliver right so you should worship me if it wasn't for me you would not me alive you would not of been a thought you have to thank me for everything and disobeying me is just like spitting in the face of God it will get you banished to rot in hell ya get that" he pats your head as you cuddle into his chest since he's so big you look like a little housecat on his chest ''thats it just let my voice soothe you to sleep once you wake up tomorrow your life will be soon much better he teased as you snuggle against his body "nighty nighty" he says before you drift off to sleep

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 1: Moonstone]

Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a (newly widowed) daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.

This series begins approximately 1 year before the events of Season 1, Episode 8.

Song inspiration: “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.

Chapter warnings: Language, truly unhinged flirting, low-level witchcraft, mentions of death and violence, some sexual references.

Word count: 3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

He changes every room he walks into; he drags your eyes to him like the sea swallows anchors.

You’re lacing up the back of Helaena’s gown—a rose gold color, free-flowing and feminine and delicate, just like she is—when the prince enters her chambers. You know it’s him without needing to look; you would recognize the rhythm of his steps anywhere. It’s a terribly intimate thing to know about a person you’ve never properly spoken to.

“Aemond!” Helaena chirps, beaming, opening her arms to embrace him.

With abruptly shaky, ungainly hands, you rush to finish lacing the dress and then retreat to the other side of the room. You busy yourself with reorganizing Helaena’s vanity as she climbs onto her tiptoes to throw her arms around Aemond’s neck. He is not one for sentimental displays of affection, but he tolerates this for her sake. He has a soft spot for her. When you steal a glimpse of them, Aemond’s glacial blue eye lands on you and then darts away.

“Come, brother, sit with me,” Helaena says excitedly, pointing to her table surrounded by four chairs. Aemond yanks one out and plunks down, swinging his boots up onto the table. He has positioned himself so that you are standing on his good side, so that he could watch you if he wanted to. Surely this is a coincidence. “How was your sparring with Sir Criston?”

“Satisfactory. How are the insects?”

“Oh, let me tell you!” Helaena produces a large wire cage from under the table. Aemond smirks as if he’s trying to figure out how life brought him to this moment. You have been Helaena’s lady-in-waiting for a full month now, and her younger brother is a constant fixture of her routine. At first, he appeared about once a day; now, it’s at least thrice. Sometimes he materializes for seemingly no reason at all, makes a few unurgent inquiries, does a lap or two around the room, and then leaves as unceremoniously as he arrived. Now, he listens politely as Helaena describes each tiny captive creature to him in excruciating detail: the beetles, the crickets, the butterflies, the saintly praying mantis. Once or twice, Aemond seems to glance over at you. It’s hard to tell for sure because you’re committing your full faculties to not staring at him. It is sort of working. You tug at the moonstone pendant you always wear—the one your mother gave you—trying to distract yourself.

“Lady Mormont,” Helaena says. Now she has the praying mantis in her hands and is letting it creep back and forth across her knuckles. “Is there any wine?”

You bring the pitcher to the table and fill two jeweled cups with a sleek, dark, red liquid like blood.

“Thank you, my love!” Helaena trills as you serve her first. She grasps the massive cup with both hands like a child. You aren’t sure how Hightower and Targaryen flesh melded to create something as blameless and benign as Helaena, but you’re certainly glad that they did.

You offer the prince his cup while peering demurely down at the table, determined not to look at him, petrified that once you begin you’ll never be able to stop. He doesn’t take it. You wait, and wait, and wait, holding the cup in midair. Helaena slurps her wine, breaking the laden silence. At last, your eyes meet Aemond’s; and sure enough, then you’re trapped there. It’s only a second or two, but it feels like a lifetime. He’s so beautiful it hurts, it quarries empty places into your bones that scream to be filled. The prince smiles victoriously and plucks the cup from your hand.

“And one for you too, I think,” he says in his low, commanding voice.

“For me?”

“Yes, you.” He takes a swig of his wine and pulls out the chair on his good side. Helaena watches, half-amused and half-puzzled. The praying mantis is now perched on her shoulder, pondering the scene with bulging, unnerving green eyes.

You pour yourself a cup and sit reluctantly beside Aemond. He studies you like you’re a painting or a sculpture or a tapestry, taking in every line and shadow. In truth, it is not ordinarily in your nature to be reserved; you are a Mormont, you were raised to be bold and courageous and self-reliant. It is something you’ve always been proud of. It is the reason why Queen Alicent thought you’d make an excellent companion for Helaena. And yet…here with the prince…you aren’t sure what he wants from you. You so desperately don’t want to disappoint him.

“I know you,” he says at last. In the meantime, Helaena has fetched a deck of playing cards. The praying mantis is still hovering vigilantly on her shoulder. “You’re Lady Y/N Mormont. But that’s what everyone calls you. That’s what my dear sister and my mother and all the people of the court call you.” He gestures with his cup, like he’s referring to the entire world outside of this exchange, this moment. “What am I going to call you?” He considers this…and then his eye flicks down to your pendant. “Moonstone,” he decides. His gaze is mischievous, baiting. And immediately, you realize what he wants. This is sparring, just with words instead of blades. He is giving you permission to be bold. He is giving you permission to be exactly who you are.

“And what shall I call you?” you reply. “Lanky Boy? Eyepatch? Silver Hair?”

Helaena covers her mouth with her hand and winces. No one ever mentions the prince’s maiming in his presence…although you’ve heard plenty of people mutter about ‘Aemond One-Eye’ behind his back. Miraculously, he is not offended. “Just Silver,” he says with a sly, crooked smile. “It’s sharper, it’s cleaner. It could be the name of a sword.”

“See, this is why you frighten people. Because you say deranged things like that.”

“Do I frighten you?”

“No,” you say honestly. He doesn’t. Sometimes it frightens you how much you want him, but that’s all.

Aemond seems to like this. His smile becomes a grin, toothy like a dragon’s. “Come. Play cards with us.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, please, won’t you play?” Helaena pleads. “It’s so much better with three. Three is a number of power.”

“There, it’s decided, you cannot refuse your lady,” the prince says. He deals out the cards with precise, powerful hands. “Tell me, Moonstone, how did you come to King’s Landing? You were married to some Hightower, were you not? Some distant relation. Very distant. Practically a nobody.”

You nod as you collect your cards and plot your next move. “I married Axel Hightower almost exactly one year ago. My father arranged it, he and Axel’s father had met while fighting in the Stepstones as young men and kept up correspondence.”

“Yet this was an ill-fated union, I gather. How did your husband die?”

“He was leading a trade mission and his ship sank in the Sunset Sea, gods rest his soul.”

“My condolences. How tragic. And not even a body to lay to rest?”

“The currents are terribly rough there. They found a few pieces of the wreckage and that’s all.”

“Do you still mourn him?” Aemond asks, and observes you with particular interest.

You debate this for a while before you answer. “I…regret that he lost his life and that his family is deprived of his company. But I wouldn’t say that ours was any great love story.”

“But you did fuck him,” Aemond says. Helaena blanches and gapes at him, scandalized. He shows the palm of his right hand in contrition. “Forgive me.”

You are delighted to prove that you aren’t rattled by his question. “Of course, as was required.”

“And did you find pleasure in it? He wasn’t a brute to you, was he?”

“Not a brute,” you say. “There was some pleasure in it.” You smile roguishly at the prince. For once, he seems caught off-guard; he doesn’t know where you’re going with this. “Not as much pleasure as I might have found with a different sort of man, perhaps.”

“Hm.” The prince shifts in his chair and clears his throat. “No children?”

“None,” you agree softly. This is a bit of a sore subject; to be married for nearly a year without conceiving does not bode well for your ability to bear children, a prerequisite for most advantageous marriages.

The prince pivots. “So he bored you, this Axel Hightower. He couldn’t keep up with you.”

“He was pleasant enough. We spoke about the weather and the price of wheat, things like that. Though I did quite enjoy cheering for him during tourneys.”

“Tourneys!” Aemond groans.

Helaena giggles. “He hates tourneys. Though he’d have wicked luck if he ever tried them.”

“They’re frivolous. They’re for cowards who can’t prove themselves in a real battle.” The prince lays down his cards on the table. You and Helaena follow suit. When he sees yours, his mouth falls open. “What…?”

“Not used to losing, Silver?” you tease.

He laughs, incredulous, immeasurably pleased, his eye glinting. He seizes all the cards and reshuffles them. “So you weren’t in a hurry to return to Bear Island after your husband’s untimely death? Well, who could blame you.”

“My father didn’t want me back.”

The prince’s brow furrows as he deals out the cards. “That seems unlikely.”

“He has eight other children and a brand new wife who’s my age to keep him occupied. He’s barely aware of my existence these days, I assure you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says gently.

“Don’t be. It’s not him I miss, nor Bear Island. There’s nothing for me there anymore. My mother…” Fleetingly, instinctively, you clasp your pendant and then drop it. “She died six months ago. In childbirth. They lost the baby too.” You feel your throat tightening, burning…and then you compose yourself. The prince is watching you intently. “After Axel died, his father wrote to his cousin the queen and asked if she had any use for me, and she thought I’d make a fine lady-in-waiting because…well, you know…” You nod subtly to Helaena.

“Because you’re a Mormont,” the prince says, strangely proud. “Because you’re steady and tough and pragmatic and worldly.” Everything my sister is not, he means.

“Exactly.” Wine is sipped. Cards slip from one hand to another. Helaena’s praying mantis is now on top of her head, stepping carefully over her snow-white hair. The servants come in to light the fireplace for the evening and then vanish again, but not before casting wide-eyed, wary stares at the prince. He mystifies them. He terrifies them.

“And so you find yourself here, in our service,” Aemond muses, passing you a card. “Can I ask you just one more impolite question?”

“You can ask her anything,” Helaena murmurs dreamily, and you both turn to her. The praying mantis bobs idiotically on her head. You hate her insects, though you try not to show it.

“Yes,” you tell the prince when you recover.

“What do you think of my loathsome half-sister Rhaenyra Targaryen, plotting her life away up in Dragonstone?”

You ponder your cards. “I feel sorry for her. That she is so maligned, that King Viserys’ affection for her has brought her so much hardship and acrimony and judgement. But she is the king’s choice. There is no denying it.”

Aemond is disappointed in you. “Her heirs are bastards.”

“Of course they are. Everyone knows they are.”

“And yet you don’t find that to be disqualifying?”

“I don’t think it really matters,” you confess. “The king chose Alicent Hightowner as his mate and companion—despite her distinct lack of silver hair or affinity for dragons—and yet their children are no less Targaryens. If Rhaenyra chose Harwin Strong, what is the difference? Her children are equals to you. They are half-Targaryen and half-not. And as far as I can understand it, their right to the Iron Throne passes uninterrupted through their mother.”

“So you support the Blacks and believe Rhaenyra should sit the Iron Throne.”

“No,” you reply simply, and that’s the truth.

“Why?” the prince asks, searching your face. “Because you still feel some helpless, blind allegiance to my mother’s house? Is it really as banal as that?” Are YOU as banal as that, he means.

You shake your head. “I don’t think the nobility would ever accept Rhaenyra. I don’t think the common people would either. Thus she can be no true queen.”

Now the edges of his lips curl into a ghostly, luring smile. “To challenge her claim would mean war.”

“War resulting from this particular dilemma, I fear, is inevitable.”

“And this doesn’t horrify you? Doesn’t make your blood run cold?”

“No,” you answer. “Battle purifies us, it renews us, just like fire. The worthy will survive.”

He looks at you for a long time before he speaks, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace. “This is dangerous, Moonstone. You are beginning to intrigue me.”

“Just beginning?”

The chamber door flings open and Aegon staggers inside. He has dark racoonish rings around his eyes and his hair is in disarray and he is obviously, pathetically drunk. “There you are!” he cries when he sees his brother. He leans against a marble column so he doesn’t fall over. “Mother is looking for you. She says you are supposed to dine together tonight. She wants to discuss a Baratheon marriage…or was it a Lannister marriage? Some sort of marriage, that’s for sure. To a woman. A human woman. A very wealthy and well-connected human woman.”

Aemond sighs as he places his cards on the table face-down. “Yes, it’s always about a Baratheon or Lannister marriage. Or an Arryn marriage. Or a Stark marriage.”

“Well, hello there, Lady Mormont!” Aegon says, noticing you for the first time. He waves from where he is propped against the column. You bow your head civilly in reply. You’ve heard plenty of gossip about Aegon since arriving in King’s Landing, although he’s never done more to you than make a few unsavory jests. You rebuffed them as rudely as you dared to.

Aemond’s eye scans the two of you and then narrows. “Does he bother you?”

“Hardly,” Aegon objects. “When I bite, she bites back.” He snaps at the air like a rabid dog.

Aemond chuckles. “As she should.” He stands. “Don’t clear the table,” he orders you with mock sternness. “I’ll return after dinner. We have our own little tourney to finish here. I’m coming back.”

“As you wish,” you say, realizing that you miss him already.

When he passes the column where his brother stands, Aemond halts. “You will not harass her,” he says darkly. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword. He towers above Aegon, dwarfing him.

“I certainly won’t,” Aemon hastily agrees. He appraises you, gives you a nod of approval—of acceptance—and spins around to follow Aemond out of the room, lurching and grabbing for walls to steady himself against.

“Now, back in the cage, my love,” Helaena informs her praying mantis as if it were an unruly child. She unlatches the miniature metal door and places the creature inside with the other six-legged captives. Then she asks you: “Is it too warm in here? I know we Targaryens like it hot. But you’re from the North. Perhaps you are sweltering. Perhaps I am torturing you.”

“No, I like the heat as well.” In truth, you’ve been too preoccupied to notice it.

“Good, that’s good. Because there is a great deal of fire in your future.”

You startle. Her words hit you like a fist, like lightning. A cold sweat breaks out on your skin; a shudder claws its way up the rungs of your spine.

But when you ask Helaena what she means, she doesn’t remember saying it at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Long after nightfall—after Aemond wins two card games and you both conspire to let Helaena win the last, after the prince retires to his own chambers, after you fetch the princess’s nightgown and brush her long white hair and accompanied her to say goodnight to her children, after the Red Keep has fallen quiet under the rising full moon—you sneak unnoticed out of the castle and into the godswood. You take only a small bundle of items with you: a candle, a piece of flint, a dagger with a hilt shaped like the roaring bear of House Mormont, other secrets as well. You walk until you find the heart tree, where the Old Gods can hear you even here, so far from the wild North.

You don’t know if you truly believe in magic, but it makes you feel close to your mother. She gave you these spells, and she gave you knowledge of the Old Gods, in the same way that she gave you the moonstone pendant strung around your neck.

You place the candle—vivid red, the color of passion and willfulness and fire and blood—on an exposed, ancient root of the heart tree and light it by striking flint against the dagger blade. Then you wait until melted wax drips down the candle and seals it to the root. With the small dancing flame, you burn three things to ash: the feather of a dove, the petal of a red rose, and a tiny piece of parchment with two words written on it in red ink: Moonstone, Silver.

“I don’t ask for him to want me,” you murmur to the nameless Old Gods. “I don’t ask to change his heart. His heart is his own. But if…if he does want me…in the same way that I want him…” You close your eyes and clasp your hands together in prayer. The night wind tears through your hair. In the starlit quiet, you can hear the distant rumbles and screams of dragons. “Let us find a way.”

[spunkykirby]

Uhm...I found another potential flaw mihoyo needs to confront about Neuvillette and his Archon Trials:

...how exactly is he playing both the Plaintiff and the Judge???

This "legal" case would present several significant flaws:

1. Conflict of Interest. Neuvillette would be responsible for both presenting their case and making decisions on the outcome, creating a clear conflict of interest. The archons don't even need to point this out, the jury would be questioning this from the get go (especially when Neuvi has never acted as both before, nor has anyone in all of fontaine's history).

2. Bias: It's likely that Neuvi would be biased in favor of his own interests (he's the one who enforced the "come to trial or there's Violence™ in the first place anyway), leading to potential unfair rulings and potentially denying the opposing party a fair trial.

3. Violation of Due Process: The principles of due process, which ensure fair treatment and impartiality in legal proceedings, would be compromised if one person held BOTH roles. I understand the PO did this but Neuvillette is not the PO and touts a lot about being impartial and true Fairness. He is not embodying that if he projects his grievances with only the PO onto the people who aren't the PO nor did they do the PO's exact crime.

4. Loss of Confidence in the Legal System. Such a setup would undermine public trust and confidence in the legal system, as it goes against fundamental principles of fairness and justice. Once again, highly doubt it has ever happened in all of Fontaine's history.

This scenario would likely be considered a severe violation of judicial ethics. It would be called a conflict of interest, where the individual holding both roles has a personal stake in the outcome of the case (Justice for Dragons™ but then again it's NOT against their actual Perpetrator™ which is THE PO), compromising the integrity of the legal process.

SOLUTION(S):

1. Get someone else to act as the Judge. Would be hilarious for it to be Furina. She'd be familiar with the court and no longer needs to speak in bias since she's not masquerading as the Archon. Additionally she has experience/understanding from both sides. Main issue of course being: topic of gods is an anxiety inducing thing for her...though this time it has nothing to do with her.

2. Someone else to act as the Plaintiff. This is iffy. It'd have to be a person with extensive knowledge on the old world and/or Teyvat's true history while being in agreement with Neuvillette. But this would also potentially spark the conflict of interest thing again, cause they could be said to be put there as an agent for Neuvillette/a slimy way for Neuvi to act in both positions.

They may be archons, but they're far from being fools. They have leagues of experience dealing with these situations; they're not walking into one that's obviously drenched in bias against them and they serve to gain nothing from it (well, nothing but harm/death and potentially affecting their denizens).

Two ways to dodge that would be to put either Furina or maybe some Natlantean on stand.

[prettyboykatsuki]

ROTTEN FRUIT, CHERISHED SWORD | TARTAGLIA / AJAX

✮ tags ; fem!reader, dead dove: do not eat, yandere!childe, genshin canon adjacent, stalking, force, mild depictions of violence / physical struggle, mild injury, delusion, obsession, forced intimacy (one instance, not nsfw just kissing), choking, blood (reader bites), small age gap, power imbalance / power struggle, reader is a street orphan + member of the fatui 18+

✮ wc ; 6.3k 

✮ a/n ; thank you to the beloved @bitchkiss for commissioning this from me and allowing me to post!! had a lot of fun with writing it. i have a few left of my first round but i hope to open them again soon.

✮synopsis ; childe can’t tolerate the fact you’ve left. he has no intentions of letting things stay that way.

It’s the most intimate moment you’ve shared together. Childe recognizes this with a bitter sense of irony. The soft spritz of oil from a ripe orange stains his fingers, noiseless and fragrant as it tickles the back of his throat.

You’re formal to the very end. You’re standing across from him, between you his desk (though it feels like miles) with your badge sat on the glazed cherry wood. Spick and span, so shiny it borders dazzling even though you’ve been wearing since you started so many years ago. Like you’ve taken care of it with honor, even though it’s not much more than a carved hunk of metal. 

You bow your head first, then give the Fatui salute in a well-practiced steady motion. Childe keeps peeling the orange. Childe looks down at the desk and stares indignantly at your badge. 6 years together, and you’re leaving him. 

He clenches his jaw, and he can feel some of the blood in his veins make his nerves throb. 

“Thank you for everything, Captain,” Your voice is smooth as you speak, not a hint of devastation in it “From today on, I will no longer be serving the Fatui Harbingers.” 

He finishes peeling his orange and discards the peel in a nearby bin, before sitting on the edge of his desk. He blinks, feeds himself a slice of fruit, chews and swallows before talking. He’s worked hard. It calms his nerves to go through each gesture slowly. He shouldn’t ruin it like this, even though the anger building inside him stokes every time you talk. 

“Pierro has approved your dismissal?” 

“Yes, Captain. Due to my great contribution to the Fatui and my involvement in the early seize of Snezhnaya, I’ve been permitted permission to depart.”  You repeat, still not lifting your eyes to look directly at him. You’re focused on his steel-toed boots, a mark of your life as a soldier “I’ll be issued a new identity and sent somewhere overseas.” 

“And what do you plan on doing once you leave?” 

“I’m hoping to look for my master.” 

“You mean the man who taught you the sword?” 

“Yes, Sir,” You reply, voice softening. How agitating it is you hold so much affection for that worthless old man “I owe him a great deal. I’d like to contribute something of my savings towards his living expenses,” 

“Well aren’t you loyal? I commend your efforts to be searching for him so many years later. Any leads?” 

“No Captain, none,” You say, and then another wave of emotion passes through you “But if my memory serves me, he’d be living somewhere in the jungles of Sumeru.” 

“What an odd change of pace,” 

“He never liked the cold in Snezhnaya.”

Childe gives you a tight lipped smile that you don’t catch since you’re still looking down. He sighs, words muffled as he eats another slice and clicks his teeth. 

“Still so impersonal with me,” He chastises, pushing his bottom lip out in a frustrated pout “After all we’ve been through together. Lift your chin up, at least?” 

This is the only thing that gets you to look at him. You do as he asks without hesitation - not out of submission but loyalty. Your smile is small, humble, thankful. Childe feels strange looking at it. Your usual coolness fades, tapers itself into a warm and graceful set of features. It’s worn. 

Your joy is weathered and battered, bruised by countless atrocities.

 In more ways than one, it’s the thing Childe loves most about you. 

Childe knows the details of how you’re stained. Like a toddlers plush toy that goes everywhere with them, it is easy to tell that something has happened to you. But, to be loved is to be changed, isn’t it? There’s nothing wrong with being different. So long as it’s him making you different. So long as he’s the one who orchestrates it, enough to bend but never enough to break. Childe knows you. It’s the job of a captain to train his soldiers. It makes his feelings towards you more potent, how well you can endure even the worst of it. You’re not timid, not fearful.

 Your eyes are as crystal clear with honesty as they were the day you met. 

Even bruised, even anguished, even tortured - there is something about you—so stark in your earnesty. You remind Childe of the fireflies he’d seen in the lands of Sumeru some time ago. To keep you in a tight glass, sealed off from flying far from his reach. The brightness that seems to surround you makes him reach for you even in the bitter dark. He’d never want to suffocate you so he pokes holes in the lids. Lets you breathe, lets you see the world outside of glass. 

If a firefly spends enough time in captivity, glass walls can become religion. A widely accepted belief, indoctrinated certainly. There’s something to see but nowhere to go. That’s always what he wanted you to believe. 

Had it all been for nothing in the end? The thought is sour, makes his mouth tighten like he’s swallowed rotten fruit. 

“Sorry, Sir. Force of habit. I really am very grateful to have met you. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count.” 

“And yet you abandon me like this. I’m really hurt, you know? Didn’t what we had mean something to you?” 

You crack a pleasant smile - it’s a rare right, and it’s always genuine. You’re usually icier than the blizzards in Snezhnaya, the same neutral expression has stayed on your face for as long as he’s known you. You’ve been like that since you were 17. Back then you were much more hardened. He doesn’t blame you. A street urchin, robbing and stealing for food and shelter. Childe knows the story like the back of his hand. 

When you met for the first time - your hair was cut short and your clothes were so baggy. It was impossible to tell back that you were a person, no less a woman - you felt like one entangled body of anger. 

The Tsaritsa would’ve killed you had you not shown such great prowess. Underneath all the filth was a vision. A vision of Anemo, and incredible precision in wielding the ways of wind. 

You’d gained useful skills during your time on the streets. But you were unpolished and violent. The Fatui watched you like a storm cloud lingering over the horizon. A typhoon waiting to swallow the world the minute you had the chance.

Back then, Childe wasn’t fascinated with you in the way he is now.  You were just a brat he had to train. Pierro had put you into his possession on the basis of Childe’s cruelty. It was an endurance test and Childe had always believed you would fail. He’d put you through countless trials, each one more merciless than the last. Your expression never faltered, never changed, never suffered.

The first time Childe noticed you was after the death of your comrade. You were 18 then and it was the first time you’d ever lost someone you’d been attached to. The expression you wore - rough, hard, emotionless, crumbled into pieces in front of him. You cried at a shallow grave, the first and last time he’d ever seen such an expression in his life. Back then, he only comforted you out of curiosity. What exactly would you do? 

But you braved your face. Despite all he’d put you through, you bore no resentment towards him at all. You’d wiped the tears off of your expression and looked at him solemnly. Silent but thankful and terribly honest. 

It’s that honesty that drew him towards you. 

You were angry, sure - but your righteousness made you different. Unlike the many street rats lurking in the Fatui, driven by money or greed - you were driven by simple things. You hated owing favors. You could be polished into something beautiful. Something interesting, more so than the rest of Fatui goons that flitted around him like gnats.  

He’d spent the last 6 years doing just that. Not always intentionally, but always careful. 

You’ve grown into something beautiful - poised while being unruly. A mortal paradox that he’s grown to be more fascinated by each passing year. He’s taken time to know the things that make you tick. 

Yet you're leaving. He didn’t chain you by the neck fast enough in his attempts to be careful and now you’ve taken your own leash and walked right out of his grip. A shame. Childe is really so hurt by such a thing. 

He doesn’t let it show on his face of course. You’ll be remorseful if you see him, but the pity won’t soothe his feelings this time. He has to remain calm so he puts on this delightful act to hide the hurt.

“I suppose you do mean a lot to me, Captain. In a different way.” 

“Well,” He steps towards you, but you don’t back away. The proximity, strangely, doesn’t bother you. You are only this permissive towards him, and he counts it as a minor celestial blessing. He doesn’t know if you trust him that much or if you are simply naive. Maybe both. Maybe neither 

“What way is that, pray tell? Maybe it will soothe my sorrows.” 

“Well, you’re the only person I truly knew and admired. If that counts for anything,” You flush when you tell him this “My master was a great man but all things considered he was more like a father. But I really think very highly of you and your abilities, Sir.” 

“What a nice girl you’ve become.” He says back, just to see the startled flush on your features “Isn’t that something?” 

You make a face at him, displeased. It almost distracts him from how irritated he feels when he remembers why you started with this conversation in the first place. 

“You talk about me like I’m a kid,” You show him just the slightest bit of attitude. It’s a step in the right direction, sends a chill up Childe’s back that he doesn’t dislike in the slightest “I’m all grown up alright? Don’t look down on me.” 

He gasps in faux offense “I would never. It’s strange, you know? You’ve changed a lot. I don’t hate it though,” He gives you a once over - hands you a slice of orange. You lean down and grab it with your teeth, chewing and swallowing. 

It’s those little acts of naivety that draw him to you most. 

“When are you meant to depart, my dear subordinate?” 

“Probably within the week,” Your voice is just a touch somber. “After I’ve got everything moved, this may very well be the last time we see each other.” 

“It’s a shame then, really. I would’ve preferred being your comrade for much longer than this.” 

“We’ll always be comrades, Captain.” You salute him one more time, this time with a smile “I’ll never be able to forget you.” 

“You’d better not.” He says with a deep sigh, making you laugh. 

Yes, it’s not as if Childe was ever really going to let you. 

__

You disappear from his sight in an instant. 

The first few weeks after your absence, Childe buries himself in his work. Pierro praises him for his sudden loyalty to the harbingers - but carrying orders is the only way he can work out his frustration without taking it out on civilians.

He plans from the day you leave to find you eventually. But he knows from the start it’ll be no easy feat. The nature of the business is that relocations are hard to come by and top-secret. If someone is to relocate and change their identity, no one in the Fatui knows where they end up. The only person who’s informed about the drop off locations is Pierro, and it’s not like he’s going to hand that information to Childe regardless. 

But that’s different from knowing exactly where you’ve relocated. You’re a smart girl - too clever and too familiar with the Fatui to let them handle something of such importance. Your agreement was this: new money, new documents, new identity - but re-establishing your life would be completely and totally up to you. It makes sense. You’ve gained an incredulous amount of enemies in your time working in Childe’s care - and the matter of relocation is a delicate one. Most of the Fatui are deeply hated across Teyvat. 

You’d have to relocate somewhere small where you can make use of your skills or survive on your own. If Childe knows you at all, you would’ve chosen the latter. A self-sustained life where you don’t have to depend on anyone unnecessarily suits you well. After all the blood and gore you bore witness too, isolation was like a second skin. 

From the minute you disappear from his line of vision - Childe thinks about finding you. He thinks about what he’ll have to do to make it reality, and what will happen when he does. The  minute you’re within his reach, he won’t be foolish enough to let you go again. 

There won’t be any concerns about morals or abuse of power - this time, Childe will possess you completely. 

Pierro tells Childe: There's a recruitment mission, it will take up to a year and you’ll be traveling all over the world to carry out various orders. 

It’s bait. Pierro just wants Childe to get his hands dirty, and he knows that the 11th won’t be able to resist the temptation of finding you. Childe agrees despite knowing this. There is no order he can’t fulfill, no thing he can’t commit too - if it means there’s any chance to find you again. 

If it’s for you, he can do anything. 

___ 

For months, Childe soaks his hands in blood trying to find you. 

Cheap intel is easy to come by but reliable intel is not.

His first mission in Mondstat. A small nation and one of peace - it’s difficult to stir up any trouble there when Diluc is around. Childe does his best to steer clear of him, since there’s no group the Dark Knight detests so much as the Fatui. 

Recruitment in a small, quiet nation happens in slums. Orphanages are prime for this endeavor. A proxy pays a fee for adoption prices and word of the Fatui spreads through the darker corners of the city. Once the word of their presence spreads far enough, another message follows. The Fatui will pay greatly for intel. They’re looking for a woman in her early 20’s. If the information proves reliable, you’ll be paid a hefty sum. 

Mondstadt, the city of peace, lives up to its name. The Fatui occupation of the slums doesn’t disrupt anything in the local government. It’s inline with Pierros orders. There’s something important about the city according to the Tsaritsa. 

Of course - none of this is especially important to Childe. Once his role has been fulfilled, every minute is spent chasing leads and following trails to whichever path leads to you. It’s a compulsion. Each time he receives a knock on his office door, he feels his pulse rise all the way into his throat. He knows objectively that most leads are worthless - that people are simply trying to squeeze money from the Fatui in order to survive. 

The piercing, celestial anger doesn’t settle with all the objectivity in the world. No amount of searching seems to lead back to you and his patience is already dangerously thin. 

Of course Childe knew embarking on this endeavor would not be fruitful all at once.

Your speciality had been stealth from the beginning. If anyone knew how to disappear into thin air - Childe would first think of you. It doesn’t soothe him. Knowing it will be difficult to find you, and knowing especially that you don’t want to be found - none of it soothes the bone deep ache for you. Each night he carves the desire out of him, it won’t help him in his journey to carry. 

But each morning, there’s a bruising sensation in his ribs that reminds him of the wound process. Each night he bore the injury of loss and there is nowhere for him to find evidence of it happening. Only the aftermath, and more pitiful breadcrumbs that he tries to trace back to you.

Childe chases the tail light of a firefly across every corner of Mondstadt. He turns over each chipped brick of dilapidated buildings, hunts down every one who even knows your name or any of your features. He rifles through cheap shot intel and thins out the swarm of greedy idiots through beatings.

Among the cheap dirty tricks, he finds one lead. From a child, no less - a boy who isn’t any older than 13.

 In his office, two Fatui drag in a pair of siblings.  

“I know who you’re looking for,” He says, slow and careful - on guard. There’s a little girl trembling behind him, shaking like a leaf. A big brother, through and through “I have proof.” 

Childe takes interest immediately. This little boy reminds him of you, crystal clear eyes. Truthful. Childe leans on the edge of his desk. 

“Proof? What, like a picture?” 

“N-no,” He swallows. He reaches for something inside of his cloak, and the guards immediately stand to attention. Childe puts his hand up telling them to stand down. When there’s no longer any threat, the boy pulls something out of his pocket. A piece of paper with something drawn on it, and a coin within it. 

Ah. The paper bears your signature, and the coin is yours too. To be more clear, it’s a coin relocated agents are permitted to carry once they depart. It’s a signature of honorable dismissal, and a promise from the Tsartisa guaranteeing your protection in case of more Fatui encroachment on the land. There’s an honor system. It’s rare that dismissal even happens given the nature of the organization. Agents with outstanding records get three total. 

Childe can hardly believe it. But he does, because it’s you - and it’s something you would do. It’s not like a 13 year old boy would be able to coerce it out of you. It’s yours. You gave it to him. 

Childe grips the coin into his hand. There’s a lingering presence. He closes his fist around the metal, paper crumpling underneath before kissing his closed fist. 

“When,” He takes in a sharp breath “When did you receive this?” 

“A few weeks ago,” He replies, visibly relaxed now that Childe seems to recognize its legitimacy  “She s-stayed with me and my sister for a while. And protected us. Nobody messes with us anymore. She s-said that if the Fatui come, to give them this and they won’t bother us.” 

“And you’re trading it in for money, you precocious brat?” Childe says with no real malice in his voice. The kid stiffens, but he can only laugh in reply “Well, I’ll respect the young lady's wishes. I like kids, after all.” 

Childe makes eye contact with his underlings, and they salute him. 

“Give them as much money as they ask for. And issue them another coin, but make sure it’s one of mine. I’ll be keeping this one,” 

They speak in tandem “Yes, Captain.” 

“You should be very grateful, kid.” Childe says, reaching his hand out. He’s in a good mood, hands patting the heads of both kids. 

“You’ve experienced something truly invaluable, and it’s brought you great fortune. Go give prayer to your Archon for the blessing” 

__ 

He traces your steps back to Liyue. He only knows this after interrogating those kids for a long while. Liyue is the easiest route to Sumeru, so Childe mostly works on a hunch. 

He likes Liyue. It’s easy enough to recruit there since the Fatui already have a foot in the door, and beyond that - the citizens are warm if you’re respectful. 

“Excuse me, maam,” Childe waves a hand at the woman working at the fruit stand near the harbor. An older woman and Liyue local, with gray hair and warm eyes “Would it be alright if I asked you some questions?” 

The woman pauses from her task, squinting her eyes momentarily before humming. 

“Sure, sonny, I don’t see why not,” She replies, continuing on with her work “Are you a foreigner?” 

“Yes, ma’am I am. And I’m looking for someone who I heard passed through here recently.” 

“Oh? Who’re you looking for?” 

“A young lady. Early 20’s. A bit rough and about ye high,” He says, vaguely gesturing to your height. He gives a little bit more detail on your features and the woman listens to him carefully before her eyes widen with realization “Sound familiar?” 

“Oh, her!” The woman smiles, sitting behind her set up with a knife in hand. She grabs a melon from her stall, balancing it on a cutting board. She wets her knife with water and wipes it, the reflective metal shining in Childe’s eyes as it goes through the fruit in one solid push. “Yes. She stayed here for weeks, though I don’t have any idea where. She came in every morning to buy something from me.” 

“Could you tell me a little more about it?” Childe urges, trying to mask the desperation to know in his voice. The old lady hums pleasantly “Anything about her or where she might be headed?” 

“Well, she said something about Sumeru,” The old lady relays, cutting the melon into thin slices - ripe and sweet “She had thought about visiting Fontaine, but decided on just Sumeru for now. Said she was looking for her Father. How do you know that young lady, might I ask?” 

“A friend from childhood,” Childe relays, a half truth and lie of omission. He dawns an expression of embarrassment and sincerity.  “I’ve been looking for her all of my life.” 

“Well, aren’t you quite the romantic? Was she your first love, dear boy?”

“Yes. Something like that. I had heard she was in Mondstat and then she came here, but it seems like I keep missing her. And I don’t want to lose sight of her again, after all we’ve been through.” 

The old woman's features soften, as she holds out a piece of fruit for Childe to take. He accepts, taking it graciously and with a soft word of thanks. 

“To be young again would be a gift indeed,” She sighs wistfully “I admire your tenacious spirit. I’m sure you get  a little closer to finding her each time you search. If it’s meant to be, I’m sure you will.” 

Childe takes a bite of melon. It’s rich, mostly sweet and the slightest bit sour. The juice dribbles down his chin, and coats his mouth with the not-quite satisfaction. Sweet, but not sweet enough. Close but not close enough. 

“Did she mention anything else?” He asks, wondering for more details “Or leave anything behind?” 

“You sound like you miss her,” She says brightly before shaking her “Forgive my memory. The only thing I can remember was that she was preparing to settle down. She took seeds and supplies with her. After that, I didn’t see her again.” 

“How unfortunate. But if she plans to be in Sumeru, then it seems like I have to go find her there,” 

“You won’t be staying here long then, young man?”

Childe reaches the last of his slice, wiping his mouth with the back of a gloved hand. 

“I don’t think so. But I’ll return someday. And if I find her, well,” He gives her a smile, picking a peach off of the stand and dropping a bag of Mora on the table “I’ll make sure we both come and thank you.” 

__ 

Sumeru is Snezhnaya’s opposite. 

In composition, in sight, in taste and in sound. The sweltering heat of the jungle, the plush of green, the wildlife that lays among the thickets. In all the ways that Snezhnaya is cold and precise, Sumeru is warm and bleeding. Each corner of the great nation bleeds into self. Culture bleeds into art and art bleeds into politics and everything is threaded together like vines of ivy through metal grates.

They are foreign lands to Childe. He’s spent his time across the world in other nations, but not Sumeru. The other Harbingers occupied it for years before Childe had the chance - and he does his very best to not trifle into Dottore’s territory. 

(There is memory of another harbinger, like the faintest whisper of a ghost.)

But he can’t be sure of that. All he knows is that it’s his first time spending any time there for longer than a few days. It’s his first time there on a mission, to spend time among its people and make deals with the other mercenaries that roam both the desert and forest. 

The Fatui are not particularly fond of the Eremites. Unlike other groups, there is no easy way to subordinate them. There are more intricate hierarchies and laws among them, laws of survival that do not cross over well to the Fatui. The Eremites have an honor system that many Fatui find foreign.

 It’s not impossible to find common ground - but it’s difficult. If they are to stumble upon the wrong group of Eremites, they could very well end up in a losing battle. Sand is much like snow. If you don’t tread carefully, if you aren’t prepared - one step could leave you buried beneath soil before you could think twice. 

There is one thing that both Eremite and Fatui bastards share completely, and that is greed for power and wealth. 

Recruitment in the Sumeru region is difficult. But any information can be found if your pockets are heavy enough. They’re an efficient bunch since they don’t require much training. 

Childe will have to look at his own books later. How much time, money, manpower he’s allocated in his relentless search for you. How many mountains he’s climbed, how many fights he’s gotten into, how much trouble it’s been. Mora is nothing, but altogether - your disappearance has cost a hefty price. 

Still, you were telling the truth - as was the Eremite who found your new location, and the woman in Liyue who sold you fruit and the orphan boy who held your signature. 

A trail of your very own light, the feeling of a cool breeze - everything that Childe has worked for has ultimately led him back to you in the bleedings lands of Sumeru. 

A few weeks ago, he received new intel from an Eremite he’d recruited at the beginning of their stay. A 17-yr boy with a gift for the sword that had no particular loyalty to any other group of Eremites. A capable loner. Childe’s mission was simple - 

(“There’s a woman you must find. 

If you find her, I’ll give you anything you please.”) 

Like a miracle, in 3 weeks time - the same recruit had returned to Tartaglia’s door with a photo of you. 

(“You…you found her.” Childe mutters. He’s overwhelmed with too many emotions for anyone to show on his face. “Where?” 

“In the jungle.” The boy says, voice cool and neutral “It looks like she built a shelter for herself and stays there. She wasn’t anywhere near the city,” 

“No wonder it’s been so difficult to find you.” Childe mutters to himself before looking back up again “Can you lead me there?”

The boy rifles in his bag for something. A parchment paper that unravels to be a map with a line drawn on it. 

“I thought this would be easier.” 

Childe holds the paper in utter disbelief, staring at the line draw. A path forward to you.) 

Last night, he departed alone into the jungles and followed the path carefully. The map was well marked with rest points and stops, and it wasn’t difficult to trek it once he was outside of the city. He’d gone alone with nothing but the clothes on his back. Eager and impatient, restless to find an oasis in the desert that has been draining the life out of him since he’d arrived. 

Childe finds you at dawn. The sun has to rise completely but the world is lit, soft blue encasing it like a blanket. Off the beaten path is a cottage - a shelter built from jungle wood with a small animal coop and a garden. There’s a single light on in the kitchen, and enough windows for him to see what’s inside. 

Many things overwhelm him once he catches the light on your face. You must’ve been awake for a while, because there’s no sleep left on your expression. Nothing but clarity, brightness, familiarity that Childe must’ve been searching for months now, maybe half a year. 

The world feels like it’s stopped moving for him to take a step forward. It’s dark enough that a firefly draws past him, and Childe feels his body move nearly against his will. 

He walks through the mud, through the dirt and grass - following the path to your door until he’s towering in front of it. He stands at the wood for a long, long while - in silent contemplation, before a sick sense of joy flutters through him. 

A sense of sickness that parades around in his mind. Almost childlike. It’s been a long game of hide and seek, but Childe has finally found you. 

He knocks on the door, lets each hit ring before he stops. And he waits. 

You open the door without questioning it. Perhaps there’s someone from in town who visits you often enough that you don’t think to question it. Either way, you open it.

And when your eyes land on Childe’s expression, everything shifts. 

He can practically feel the immediate apprehension. The confusion that you can’t make sense of, the feeling of bitter dread. Childe knows you like the back of your hand. Knows every little detail of your discomfort. You’re more confused than you are concerned for now, and your eyes are brilliantly honest like they’ve been from the start. 

He’s giddy. The pure sense of euphoria is entangled so deeply with months worth or frustration, and he’s wound so tight he can’t help but grin down at you. You blink at him. 

“Captain?” 

“Comrade,” He says, voice a touch light “How have you been?” 

He doesn’t offer you any more explanation than that. You stare at him and he stares back, greedily at the sight of you. He’s missed you, really - missed everything about you so much it feels like some part of him is ticking, preparing to detonate. You step back and Childe nearly steps with you. 

He’s worried it will scare you off, so he refrains. 

“What are you doing here, Captain?” 

“Well,” He says first, contemplative “It’s a long story. Could I come in first?” 

“Oh, of course,” You reply, because you presume it’s something important. You trust him enough to let him “Please, come in.” 

So he invites himself in. You direct him to a small dining table with two wooden chairs. There’s sliced Zaytun peaches sitting on a ceramic plate. You pour Childe a glass of water hospitably, before sitting across from him with a look of concern. It’s easy to tell what you’re thinking - that there must’ve been some reason for him to come find you and that it must be important. You’re waiting for him to tell you that and soothe his nerves. 

But being with you now, he finds he harbors no such desire. He eats a peach off of the plate in front of him. They’re sweet to the point it makes his teeth hurt. 

He gives you a stare as you look back at him, and the two of you sit in uncomfortable silence. 

“I’m glad I finally found you,” He says conversationally, looking down at his hands as he speaks “You didn’t make it easy, you know?” 

“...You were looking for me?” 

“Looked all across Teyvat for clues. I expected that, though. You were always good at disappearing when no one was around to see, comrade and I admired that about you,” Childe says with a sigh, shaking his head “I was very devastated to see you leave,” 

“So you went searching for me? Why?” 

He laughs hard as you ask him that, he almost can’t help it. 

“Well, that’s the thing,” He says, taking another piece of fruit. Relishing the sweetness, almost as warming as the sudden proximity between you two “After all the years I’d spent crafting you into an excellent soldier, I thought it’d be a shame to let you disappear,” 

He looks at you. Watches as your face changes. 

“All those times I’d saved you, been a mentor towards you, taught and trained you. I’ve watched over you for so long and cared for you so fondly, and you disappeared just like that. I try not to be too bothered by things,” Childe laments, leaning back in the wood chair “I’m a patient man, for the most part. I’m an older brother, so I’ve always tried to be responsible. But there are some things I like to keep for myself,” 

“...Captain, what are you talking about?” 

Childe stands to his feet and walks over to you. The feeling of fear starts to build in you, mild but present in your vague tremble. You falter. He can tell from the way you stand. You must feel that something is wrong and your eyes show your distrust. Childe can’t stop peering into them, can’t stop searching for your every feeling wishing to pull them out of you and examine them.  

He pulls away the chair behind you, letting it fall to the floor. He backs into you slowly, into the wall behind you where you stand underneath him. You’re afraid - tense, but not unwilling to fight. 

“Did you think,” He whispers, voice filled with satisfaction “That every time I saved you was a coincidence?” 

He stares down at you. Your eyes widen. 

“I was just so fascinated. You can be really innocent sometimes, it's just adorable. But you’re also extremely direct and brutal. Naive but also completely trusting. I’ve never met a ruthless mercenary who was so forgiving.” Childe reaches for a piece of your hair, bringing it so carefully to his lips “I’ve come to love that about you. I just wanted to see if you could really endure all that. And you did beautifully. Really.” 

“What the fuck are you saying?” 

“When Valentin and Ilya died, you came back so crushed but your eyes,” Childe says, peering into them - hand reaching up to your cheek. You try to push him back. He feels the force in it - but he’s stronger than you by a lot where it matters “These eyes stayed the same. Clear and bright. A gaze that only spoke truth. It was mesmerizing. I’ve always been fond of beautiful things.” He says wistfully. 

You push back. Your strong enough that Childe can feel the weight of you movements as you try to get away from him. You think of many clever moves, like going underneath him. You’re quick but he’s quicker. He pins you against the wall, cages you in with his body - his legs locks yours so you can’t use your knees. He traps you, just like he always wanted too. 

It feels better than he could’ve pictured. 

“I didn’t plan for them to die so brutally,” Childe begins, his voice against your ear. He can feel how your heart races through your skin, the painful pulse of each of your nerves as anger torrents inside of you. “I knew they were underskilled. I thought they’d only come back injured, but I was wrong. Torn to bits right in front of you. When you came back I thought you were completely broken but,” 

He looks down at you, and you look up. There is burning, violent hatred in your unchanging gaze. He smiles at you affectionately, and it jars you enough that your own face changes in response.

“You looked at me with this same expression. Melancholy but crystal clear. You can’t help it can you? Not in the slightest. Time and time again, you came back and suffered tremendously but  that never changed about you,” Childe whispers against your skin. Lets his lips brush against your neck, and your bare shoulder. He feels your body move hard trying to get him off of you, but you remain in place “One day, you’d get exhausted. And when that happened, I would help you. Take you into my own care. You could do whatever you wanted as long as you were with me. That was the vague inclination” 

“You sick bastard.” 

“But you ran,” Childe says. He releases you momentarily, trades his body in for a hand around your throat. You claw at him but the pain is easy to endure. “All that effort, and you decided to disappear. I was so annoyed with that, you know? I love you after all. Enough to empty every well of resources to find you. I searched for you in every corner I could look.” 

With gloved hands, Childe hooks one of his thumbs into your mouth before hooking the other one - prying your jaw open completely. It shocks you enough to render you helpless - motionless as your hand rests on his forearm. When your mouth is open, he uses one hand to keep it that way. His gloved fingers violate your mouth, thumb brushing over the ridges in your teeth. He grabs your tongue with his thumb and forefinger, pressing it slightly like he’s reprimanding you. It’s warm and hot, making a chill run up his spine. 

“But I won’t make that mistake again. From here and now, I’ll make sure you never leave my side. And with you next to me,” He presses his lips to your cheek while your mouth is pried open. He can feel your teeth dig into the sliver of skin exposed from his glove, biting hard enough that it punctures and bleeds. Childe is unfazed by it, almost a little fond at how hard he can feel your canines digging into his leather gloves “From now on, everything you do should be with me at the forefront. I’m being a little selfish, but it should be alright, yes? You’ve been under my command for a longer time, so you’re used to it.” 

“Captain,” Your words are muffled by his fingers in his mouth, a touch sad - a touch betrayed, but not terrified. Angry like you want to kill him. To rip him apart with your teeth but too confused to do so much as move. Not scared of him despite everything that he’s just admitted. And your eyes, of course, remain unchanged “You fucking bastard. You rotten fucking bastard, they were—” 

He pulls his fingers away from your mouth, cupping your face in his hands instead. Your reaction is refreshing. 

“Kiss me, won’t you?” 

Your response is to bite but Childe catches your mouth anyway. He holds your chin and keeps you under him and kisses you hard. He lets his hands circle around your waist, completely ignoring all the attempts you make to run. He kisses you, and your mouth tastes like blood. His blood, mixed with the faint taste of peach. Iron and sugar, perfectly entangled in the soft, warm heat of your mouth. You kiss like a dream. 

Your cold stoicism melts under the weight of your shock, and you’re so startled you give in only slightly. Childe kisses you in apology. Childe kisses you because he loves how dreadful you find it. Because no matter how much it disgusts or sickens you, he can’t help but be addicted to the feeling of your lips and skin. He’s sure the coming months will make this newly explored affection a most miserable vice. 

He wraps around a hand around your throat again, teeth nipping along your cheek before kissing the indentation of his own canine. His other hand clamps around your wrists, pinning them above your head as he cages you in once again. 

“I’m not an opponent you will ever be able to best unless the Archon’s themselves come to kill me,” He whispers, faint and loving as he makes sure to look you in the eyes.  “So stand down, soldier - and let your Captain lead you to paradise.” 

[enmasae]

Desire of the fittest - Part 2

Self Aware Genshin Alternate Universe - Guide AU (my own take on sagau)

Previous - Next

Warnings :

Adult content (such as violence, bullying, toxic relationships, cursing, angst, nsfw, and others) and yandere behavior (such as obsessive and possessive display)

Theories and lore informations

Since this is my take on an alternate version of Genshin Impact, I've taken the liberty to include elements that may not align with the game's lore but will make sense in this particular story.

Content : And they were roommates, Totally not illegal business meeting, Casual conversation between a pigeon and a dog, How to deal with your partner's ex

"-and that concludes our coverage of the catastrophic disasters currently happening around the globe. On a brighter note, it was recently announced that the renowned game Genshin Impact will explore new horizons to celebrate its 20th anniversary. Today, we have the co-creator and current CEO of Hoyoverse, Mr. Wei, to discuss this highly anticipated event."

The small crowd attending the live show applauds as the CEO makes his entrance. Despite being in his fifties, the man retains a well-preserved appearance under the studio lights, his bright and confident smile illuminating the room. He nods in acknowledgment to the camera and extends a handshake to the TV host, who accepts it. Gesturing for his guest to do the same, they both proceed to take a seat on comfortable sofas.

"Thank you for having me."

The host eagerly clasps her hands together and leans forward, keen to gather more information about the plans for one of the most popular games in its genre. Even with the passage of time, Genshin Impact continues to serve as a source of inspiration for many and boasts a substantial player base worldwide.

"Mr. Wei, we're delighted to have you here with us."

The company's CEO offers a gentle smile, his composed demeanor standing in stark contrast to the energetic TV presenter.

"The feeling is mutual."

Immediately delving into the topic, the host follows the interview script he was given, narrating the current situation for his viewers and initiating a conversation with his guest.

"Several years have passed since Genshin Impact's main storyline came to a close, leaving fans eager to uncover the reasons behind the event announced on social media. While virtual reality has been, indeed, quite the talk in the gaming community since the release of the new AETHERAL&LUMINUS technology, we're curious to know why Hoyoverse decided to enter the world of cyber technology. What led to such decision ?"

Aligning with the host's expectations, the man in his fifties softened his features, conveying a sense of sadness to emphazise his point.

"You may call it nostalgia but the team and I wanted to provide players with the opportunity to immerse themselves in the world of Teyvat one last time before the server's shutdown-"

"Boring..."

As the television screen dims, the ceo's voice fades into silence. Setting aside the remote, you find yourself drawn back into the embrace of your current companion, reveling in the affection he showers upon you. His lips delicately trace a path from your collarbone towards your throat, eventually meeting your own. As your eyes lock with his, you feel him whisper against your breath, anger kindled by your earlier statement.

"I allowed you to have fun with that descender, isn't that enough ?"

Maintaining eye contact, you seize his shoulder and skillfully shift positions, placing yourself atop him. Taking control, you lift his hands from your waist and secure them above his head. Aroused by the demeanor you display, he decides to let you to enjoy yourself and refrains from attempting to escape your hold. Savoring the moment, you slowly bring your face closer to his, allowing your lips to meet once more in a gentle union. As his lips moves forward to taste yours again, you assertively seize his jaw and unhinge it.

"Since when do I need your approval ?"

He escapes your grasp, emitting a painful cry. Clutching his jaw, he quickly realigns it with an audible crack and assesses its movement. Surprisingly, he doesn't appear overly shocked by your swift anger. He has to admit that he provoked it when he brought up your vessel. Well, former vessel, much to his satisfaction. He never held much fondness for the boy, believing he consumed too much of your time. He sighs while reclining on the couch, bringing you into a tight embrace. His gentle hand runs through your hair as he relish in the scent of your cosmetic products. While he remains unfazed by your unpredictable behavior, he doesn't hesitate to flatter you for forgiveness.

"You don't, but I appreciate when you consider it."

You dismiss his sweet words, recognizing them as mere attempts to please you, yet you accept them despite knowing him. He's an adept at manipulating others, appearing to have their best interests at heart while exploiting them. He creates an illusion of comfort and understanding, yet beneath it all, he harbors disdain for emotional displays. Even while knowing that, you prefer to believe in the distinctiveness of your relationship. You hope that he genuinely cares, even though your own feelings are uncertain. While you're not exactly friends, there's a sense of comfort in being your authentic self with him. Though not lovers, you find solace in holding each other during chilly nights, making the mutual loneliness less impactful.

Neither of you can define what you are in each other's eyes. That's why treating him the way you do comes more naturally, it spares you from overthinking.

"I'll play along, but only if you give me a little favor."

He notices the quiet sadness in your eyes but decides not to mention it. Smiling against your lips, he offers a gentle peck, silently seeking permission to go further. Forehead touching yours, he inhales your essence as you part your lips. Confident yet respectful, he explores your mouth at a measured pace, allowing brief breaks between the playful twirls of your tongues.

"Name it, and it'll be yours."

As you gradually pull back, you notice the man pouting, clearly yearning for the warmth you bestowed upon him. Although his clinginess strokes your ego and you enjoy feeling desired, it occasionally becomes irksome. The aftermath of the previous night speaks volume of how long it has been since both of you engaged in such passionate activities. Given your shared affinity for dominance games, perhaps it would have been wise to dial it down a notch.

"I want to be part of your project."

Instantly, the dark-haired man rejects the idea with disdain, his pout transforming into a disapproving snarl, and his nose scrunching in distaste at the mere thought.

"Out of the question."

Even if you saw coming this outcome, it doesn't prevent the surge of anger rising in your chest when he dismisses your request. In a swift motion, he seizes your forearm right before you could reach for the nearest empty alcohol bottle. While his hold lacks strenght, it effectively hinders you from shattering the glass against his head. Closing his eyes, he delicately brings your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on it.

"Losing you would drive me mad."

He might have intertwined his own existence with yours, yet, sometimes, it doesn't seem enough to keep you by his side. The intensity of your fascination for his domain unnerves him. While he had hoped for you to hold a similar affection for the present world you both inhabit, he acknowledges that these dying lands can never exude the radiance of Teyvat. Perhaps it was his error to entrust you with its care in his absence. He should have foreseen it. Even if you claim otherwise, he can only witness how your need for excitement is akin to theirs.

However, the issue resides within him, as he cannot bear witnessing the disappointment reflected on your face. With a sigh, the one who calls himself primordial release your arm and speak in a subdued tone, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Hypothetically speaking, if I were to allow you to blend in among them, what's in it for you ?"

In response to your silence, the man peeks in your direction, observing your bewildered, crunched-up face. Baffled, he lacks the time to react as you seize the hem of his partially unbuttoned shirt, propelling both of you upward. Guiding him to the rolling chair behind his desk, you swiftly pull him into it. Vaulting over the desk, you perch on its surface, placing your feet on either side of the chair's armrests, leaving him nowhere to run.

"You're joking right ?"

Seizing a knife lodged in the table, you extract it with a resounding crunch of the desk's wood. Positioning it beneath your partner's chin, his shaved face provides no shield against the blade. The man chuckles dryly, raising his hand leisurely to grasp the weapon's tip, casually creating some distance between it and his neck.

"Sadly, i don't do jokes."

Releasing the knife, you allow him to toss it aside, observing its slide on the floor and joining your collection of 'toys'. He rises from the chair and gently guides your back against the desk. His hands trace the contours of your body, scarcely concealed by the remaining clothes he didn't ripped apart. His touch eventually lands on your hands, leading them to his face. His colorless eyes delve into yours, restraining unspoken feelings in the air, akin to words on the verge of being uttered. Relinquishing your gaze, his lips caress your ears, whispering his anguish.

"Tell me why you're so eager to go there when you can stay here with me."

Running your fingers through his lengthy ebony hair, lazily gathered in a disheveled bun, you pull his head in front of yours. Removing the hairpin securing his hair, you let it cascade down, framing both of your faces.

"Freedom, Attention, Love, Entertainment... All guides are driven by their desires."

Your thumb glides down his lips, parting them and revealing the piercing on his tongue.

"I'm no exception, Phanes."

The ancient being chuckles softly, his laughter resonating deeply. He allows you to lead him towards your lips, his own already parted and eager to savor the taste of yours once again.

"We both know you're more than that."

While it's true that at times you remind him of those bastards, he can't fault you for it as it's in your nature to act this way. He just needs to make sure you never consider returning to your roots. Despite being the divine one of both, he'll gladly worship your entirety to ensure you remain by his side.

"My sweet partner in crime~, why won't you let me take care of you ?"

You know that if he was given the chance, Phanes would drive you to the brink of insanity day and night, ensuring you forget everything else but him. Unfortunately for the man, you're not interested in such fate. He won't be the one to stop you from pursuing what you want.

"If you truly cared for me, you'll let me go."

At your words, the primordial one rolls his eyes and deliberately collapses on top of you, relying on you to carry his weight. Despite his slender build, you struggle to pry him off from yourself as his arms hugs you close. Unfortunately, all you manage to achieve is getting his hair out of your face. As he rests his head in the crook of your neck, he examines the hickeys he bestowed upon you as gifts from the previous night. Relishing in the fact he has matching ones on his own neck, he yelps in surprise when you tug on his hair and push him to your right. He grunts and sighs, his palm massaging his scalp, irritated with your behavior.

"Oh, yes. Why didn't I think of that earlier ? Allowing you to dive headfirst into an unfair game specifically designed to trap and torture your kind will truly show how much I value you."

You chuckle at his sarcasm, then hop off the desk to head towards your belongings.

"And here I thought you couldn't be funny."

The gentle sound of your laughter coaxes a shift in his grumpy demeanor, replaced with a heartfelt smile. He takes pleasure in the melodic tones and reciprocates with a contented hum. If he were to pick a favorite sound, it would undoubtedly be your laughter, closely followed by the lovely way you scream his name in ecstasy. Yet, his grin quickly vanishes when he realizes what you're holding. Closing the distance in the blink of an eye, he tries to snatch the small device from your grip. You skillfully dodge his attempts, refusing to let him have his way. Seizing his hand, you twist it with a resounding crack, forcing him to drop to his knees.

"Isn't this fascinating ? That such itty-bitty trinket supposedly holds all the rights you wield over Teyvat. Must be so tiny because, you know, there's not much to brag about."

Having an idea of how you got it, he mentally scolds his shades for being too lenient with you. While you marvel at the tear-sized pearl, you remain oblivious to Phanes breaking into a nervous sweat. You might not grasp its usage yet, but he harbors no doubt that if he doesn't reclaim it soon, you'll figure it out eventually.

"I am the sole reason for Teyvat's current state. It's only thanks to me that those fools can enjoy their meaningless life."

He frees himself from your grasp, swiftly snatching back in place his wrist. Glancing up at you, he watches as you casually toy with the device, spinning it around with the chain and frame-like ornement keeping it secure.

"Says the one who prefers to live in isolation while 'his' world steadily erodes itself after each little 'cycles' you make it goes through."

Before Phanes can respond, a loud whistle pierces the air, catching both your attention and his.

"Man, they got you there."

As the primordial one sees one of his shades making himself comfortable on the couch, munching on some junk food he found somewhere, he groans in annoyance.

"Ugh, Istaroth, don't you have better things to do ?"

The man appears to ponder for a moment as he reaches the bottom of his snack bag. Upon realizing the absence of treats, he deftly snaps his fingers, causing the bag to replenish itself as if it had never been touched. Propping his cheek on his fist, he grabs a handful of snacks, shoving them into his mouth and chewing audibly. Observing the snack bag mysteriously being propelled toward the trash can, he hastily gulps down the remaining food, sighing in disappointment. Nonchalantly inspecting his nails, he brushes off the snack's crumbs, seemingly unfazed by the threatening glare from his boss.

"Apart from watching the two of you acting like animals in heat ? Not really."

While you prefer to remain clueless about how long he's been lurking unnoticed, you see that Phanes doesn't share your point of view. Gesturing angrily at his subordinate, his eyes betray a poorly concealed anger as his lips curls in disdain.

"First off, how dare you disrespect our privacy. Secondly, get your mind out of the gutter, we're not fucking, it's just-"

Phanes comes to a sudden stop, taking in the situation before him. With him on his knees, perfectly positioned to reach your pelvis, one could easily think he's about to give you a head job. You chuckle at the sight of him swiftly rising to his feet and hastily adjusting his partially undone shirt. The shade appears unfazed by his boss's embarrassment, having witnessed and heard far worse.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm not paid enough to deal with your abandonment issues."

The dark-skinned man reaches for a bottle on the floor but decides against taking a sip of whatever's left after some consideration. While Phanes busies himself searching for the remainder of his clothes, you saunter over to the shade in a seductive manner. As the divine being catches sight of your approach, he curses under his breath and feigns interest in the bottle in his hand. He flinches when you place your hand on his shoulder, while the other begins to caress his cheek.

"Hands off, sweetheart. I've got a keen sense of hygiene, and I know you didn't wash those hands of yours."

He swats your hand away from his cheek and pinches the other as if discarding trash, tossing it aside. You hum and flop onto the couch beside him, eliciting a grunt from the shade.

"Such perfect timing, Istaroth."

"With all due respect, which is none, screw you."

Glancing at the jewel in your hands, a mischievous impulse seizes you. Tossing the pearl towards Phanes, you watch as he dives to the floor to catch it, exhaling with relief upon success. With his head conveniently positioned at the perfect height for you to lift it with your bare foot under his chin, you compel him to look at you.

"Would you mind persuading your boss to let me do as I please ?"

Taking advantage of your momentary distraction, the primordial one signals to his shade to refuse, mimicking a throat-slitting gesture. Despite being molded from Phanes' flesh, he lacks the soft spot his creator seems to have for you, preferring to keep a safe distance from your antics. Even if his boss were to order him to indulge your whims, he would most likely flat-out refuse.

"Hard pass, sweetheart."

You glance at the divine being sprawled at your feet, examining his little trinket for any cracks. You rise to your feet, causing him to lose his head support and bonk his chin on the unforgiving floor. As the pearl slips from his fingers and starts its daring escape, he's on it like a squirrel chasing a nut, scrambling to catch up. Unfortunately for him, you reclaim it before he has the chance.

"And here I was expecting you'll be the first to want me out of here~."

Istaroth tumbles on his fist and then reluctantly straightens up, a smile spreading across his face's features. Rising from the ground, Phanes approaches you. While his arms gently embrace you, his gaze remains fixed on the jewel you're holding.

"Wait a minute... You want to leave ?"

As his gold-like eyes sparkled with excitement, he might sound a tad too pleased to your liking but you'll gladly take whatever enthusiasm you can get. You firmly press your palm against the primordial one's face, preventing him from reclaiming the symbol of his authority. The sound of his nose yielding under your palm reaches your ears, evoking a high-pitched grunt from him, not that you cared. With determined strikes, you approach the shade, affectionately pinching his cheek as one might do with a child.

"Exactly ! How clever of you ! Good job on figuring it out !"

You grab his hand and swap positions, flopping onto the couch and sending him stumbling towards the god, who's still inspecting his crooked nose in a mirror after you intentionally crushed it. As Phanes shoots a disapproving glance at his subordinate without even turning his head, the shade doesn't get a chance to speak, only receiving a grunt of warning from his boss.

"Not. A. Chance."

With no further resistance, Istaroth raises his arms in surrender and turns around. Displeased with how quickly he gave in, you shoot him a disappointed stare as he flops back onto the couch next to you. Feeling uneasy under your accusing gaze, his eyes avoid yours, darting away.

"Listen, sweetheart. If he didn't listen to you, he certainly won't give a shit about what I say."

Every gaze converges on the desk when Phanes' phone, emitting a distinctive ringtone, disrupts the room, prompting a weary sigh from you. Despite your expectations that he would have gotten rid of it by now, it becomes evident that the voicemail you recorded for him long ago still remains. A cringe washes over you as you hear your own voice trashtalking Phanes to answer the call. Istaroth appears equally displeased, emitting a grunt and burying his face in one of the couch's pillows.

"-fucking bitch ! You better pick up your goddamn phone if you don't want me to shove it down your throat and making you gag like the slut you are-"

A breath of relief escapes you as the deity declines the call upon checking the caller's identity. Unfortunately, the relief is short-lived as the persistent dialler triggers the ringtone once more, demonstrating a fervent desire to speak with Phanes. Having no intention of talking with this particular individual, he forcefully crushes his own phone, ending the incessant ringing. Tossing the damaged device into a nearby bin, he gestures towards his personal notebook to remind him he will need a replacement. Istaroth grumbles into the pillow, clearly irritated but reluctantly acknowledge the directive.

"Noted."

With a tilt of your head, you silently inquire for more information from the god. Phanes, in response, takes your hand and gently guides you to stand, initiating a comforting embrace. Creating a bit of space between the two of you, he delicately retrieves the jewel from the tips of your fingers, all the while maintaining an unwavering gaze with you.

"Don't you fret about such a thing, [Name]. As for your heart's desire, let me take a little while to think it over, and I promise to return with a delightful response just for you. In the meantime, I must have a talk with Istaroth. Would you be a darling and wait for me outside? It won't be long, I assure you."

Skeptical, you emit a doubtful hum, not entirely swayed by his sickly sweet display. Contrary to his anticipations, you don't put up a fight and merely leave the room with an nonchalant wave of your hand. As the appartment's door closes, Istaroth rolls onto his back, casually inspecting his nails as he typically resorts to when boredom sets in.

"Perhaps, it's time for you to let them go."

Regret floods Istaroth swiftly as his blood begins to congeal within his veins, causing him to gasp for breath and emit painful grunts. Collapsing from the couch, he struggles to lift his gaze towards his creator, his vision blurring with the intensity of his suffering.

"And I think it's about time you remember your place. Don't delude yourself into thinking that I've forgotten how you used to help them sneaking around with their ex vessel while I was looking the other way."

The shade gasps for air, sensing his body liberated from the torturous grip Phanes had on it. Coughing, his fist clenches as he swallows down any words that might further sour the mood of his creator. Over time, he has grown indifferent to such torment, losing the will to care or worry about his condemned immortal existence. While there is no hope left for him, there's still a chance for you to embrace the freedom he yearns for. Unknown to the primordial one, he is determined to help you achieve that.

"On the subject of discussion, I better mention this before it slips my mind."

Kneeling down, Istaroth keeps his head bowed, concealing the faint smile playing on his lips. Don't waste the opportunity he's granting you, because even he recognizes that time is running thin.

"Asmoday got killed."

Upon learning the demise of one of his shades, Phanes seizes his subordinate by the neck, pulling him up to his own eye level. Hindered by the contrast in height, Istaroth struggles to breathe, his feet flailing in the air as his creator seems to blame him for the distressing news.

"And by who ?"

Baring his teeth in response to the pain he endures, Istaroth chuckles drily as he struggles to breath.

"I believe- that the fourth descender- actively searching his lost guide within our quarters- is enough of an answer-."

A heavy silence falls upon the room, the air thick with tension. Istaroth's feeble attempt at breathing gradually fade as his creator's grip tightens around his neck. Shortly after, the only audible sound for the shade becomes the echoing reverberation of his own heartbeat in his ears. With adrenaline coursing through him, he looks in horror at the wide and contemplative eyes of his master, engulfed in anger prompted by memories from a distant era. An abrupt gasp resonates as the shade is released, collapsing at Phanes's feet. His heart pounds wildly, eyes wide with fear as his body trembles under the lingering tension.

"You're fired."

As the apartment door slams shut, Istaroth gradually allows his nerves to settle.

"Hourray... vacations."

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

"Well, look who it is ! The one and only [Name]. Still on a leash, I presume ? I guess some things never change."

Glancing at the dame lounging on your left, flaunting her arms on the rail, she grins with a wickedness that could make gods blush. You emit a dismissive grunt and slump against the fence, both hands shielding your eyes briefly before giving your face a vigorous wipe, as if hoping to erase her existence. Unfortunately for you, she has no intention of leaving you be. Even though you wish you hadn't, you've mastered recognizing her bewitching crimson gaze, no matter the vessel she assumes. Before you stands Valefor, one of your fellow guides fueled by an insatiable thirst for power. It's not that you despise her more than the others, she's simply an unnecessary pain in the ass right now. Given her impatience, you opt to ignore her until she decides to leave on her own. No need to make a fuss over someone undeserving of such attention.

"Come on, lighten up ! That's not how you should treat your best friend~."

After a nudge from her elbow, you grab your drink and navigate the mezzanine alongside the fortunate few selected players. The sight of their camaraderie before the competition sickens you. Guides, by their very nature, don't blend seamlessly. They never have, possessing too much pride for such alliances. True friendships among them are scarce. Typically, collaborations are brief, driven by mutual benefits before one inevitably betrays the other.

As you weave through the crowd, you notice flickers of recognition in the eyes of some attendees, coupled with hushed comments. Despite the revival of unpleasant memories under their scrutinizing gazes, you maintain your pride, holding your head high. You don't hesitate to reciprocate their side glances, forcing them to avert their eyes. As you head toward a more secluded area of the reception room, you notice Valefor trailing after you, engaging in a few greetings with others along the way.

"Wait- Listen, I really need to talk to you, alright ?"

You sigh at her persistence and come to an abrupt stop, causing her to bump into you. Seizing her wrist, you pull her into one of the VIP rooms and throw her inside, making her stumble before finding her balance. Unfolding a small piece of paper, you ignite it, strange symbols manifesting in the air with a golden hue. Running your fingers together, you cast a brief glance back at the frozen crowd before shutting the curtains of the room. Valefor watches in amazement as the curtains defy the laws of physics, their movement ceasing once you release them.

"Time stopping, uh ? Neat. Is it a little trick from one of your newfound friends ?"

Settling onto one of the cushions, you take a sip of your drink and dismissively ignore her comment.

"I was told by Istaroth that you were advised to maintain a low profile. Guess it was too complicated for a meathead like you."

Taking residence on a couch opposite you, she flops onto it like a toddler and begins playing with the electrical device that allows the couch to transition from a sitting position to a reclining one. Despite of the unsettling noise, you only angrily sip on your drink, at least for now. You're confident that someday you'll get the chance to annoy her in return.

"I'm a guide, I do things my way. Anyway, the little birdie didn't say much about what all the fuss is about."

After finishing your drink, you spit out a small gem resembling a pearl but shaped like a tear, retrieving it from your tongue. At this sight, Valefor mutters a quiet "gross" under her breath before recognizing what you're holding. As you place it on the table, the guide shifts position, perching at the edge of the couch with a broad smile on her face.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit. You're fucking nuts, you know that ?"

You're not crazy enough to snatch the real deal from one of the most powerful gods and keep it for yourself. The little act you staged earlier was merely a ruse to make him believe you'd attempted to steal it and coax him into doing what you wanted. Unfortunately for him, you knew he'd never give in to your demands. That's why you had Istaroth retrieve it for you, but from a far away future. And this is the one you're showcasing now, although she doesn't need to be privy to that detail.

"Phanes expects me to follow his rules, but I couldn't care less about what he wants. So, here's the deal. I'll hand over the little trinket, and in return, you use it to send me to Teyvat."

Doubtful as she should be, or you might have lost all hopes for her, she squints before bringing her face closer to it for a better look. When she glances back up at you, she raises an eyebrow, sensing that something is amiss.

"Why not just use it yourself to get there directly?"

You scornfully scoff and regard the jewel with disdain.

"You think I haven't tried ? It recognizes the one trying to use it, and unfortunately, it only listens to that slut. Even Istaroth couldn't get it to submit to him."

From what she knows, you're more of a whore than he'll ever be, but she refrains from mentioning it.

"And what makes you think I can when not even a shade could ?"

Well, you didn't have much of a choice to begin with. Even though seeking help from one of your kind implies you've hit a low point, you won't allow her to mock you.

"It's a bit of a gamble, but I figured someone with your abilities could tame this little thing. Or is your desire for power nothing more than a joke ?"

As her eyes twitch, you know you've won. There's nothing more effective than challenging a guide to get them to do what you want.

"Deal. But I'd like to ask a question before."

Intrigued about what she might ask, you tilt your head slightly as a silent approval for her to proceed.

"At the very least, was he good in bed ?"

A smirk plays across your face. You hate to admit it, but he's got some skills when it comes to giving pleasure. Not that you'll vocalize it, though.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　At the same time 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

In one of the storage rooms within the same complex building, an elderly woman joyfully dances to classic hit that was popular in her time. Unfortunately, her little dance session is abruptly interrupted when a star-shaped portal unexpectedly materializes, tearing through the fabric of reality and remaining open long enough for its creator to tumble into the small room, dislodging multiple boxes in the process. Having served as a janitor for the company that owns the building for quite some time, she has grown accustomed to the unusual events that tend to unfold, allowing her to remain unfazed by the recent occurrence. With a frown directed at the spilled cleaning supplies, she removes her large music headset and exhales in mild irritation.

"Really ? This is the end of my shift."

The woman with platinum hair grunts in pain as she slowly rises, her eyes fixed on the prominent wound in her belly, her hand barely covering it. Growing irritated by the raspy voice of the janitor, she flicks her hand, silencing the elderly woman's chatter. The janitor's eyes lose their spark, becoming dull and lifeless, even though she's still breathing.

Limping her way out of the storage room, the injured woman curses under her breath. She loathes the fact that this puny descender caught her off guard, and she vows to ensure it never happens again. But for now, her priority is to get to Phanes. She needs to warn him that a greater threat is looming.

"Asmoday, don't you look terrible."

Disregarding her fellow shade, she attempts to walk past him, only to be halted by a hand on her shoulder. She hisses in pain and bats away Istaroth's hand, her golden eyes cautioning him not to mess with her, even in her weakened state. With an expression of utter disgust, he wipes the blood from his skin, staining his handkerchief, then meticulously inspects his nails for any lingering traces.

"Not that I give a shit, but you might want to consider changing styles. Let's be real here honey, red just ain't your thing."

Not in the mood to get caught up in her colleague's petty quarrel, she limps down the corridor, leaning on the wall for support and leaving gory and bloody marks in her wake. Hearing a snap of fingers, she grunts as she finds herself back next to Istaroth. Noticing the choke marks on his neck and the burnt skin causing his veins to protrude, Asmoday returns the animosity with a venomous retort.

"Have you seen yourself, asshole ? You look like shit that has been stepped on."

The shade dismisses her comment with a shrug as he gazes upward, the corridor lights flickering as if on the verge of fading completely.

"Well, that's what happens when you piss off our big guy upstairs."

Feeling a bit unsettled upon learning their master's sour mood, Asmoday glances at her fellow shade, puzzled about why he's acting like it's the best day of his life. It's been a while since she's seen him so genuinely joyful and carefree, almost seeming out of character. As he looks down at her while she coughs up a little blood, she can feel shivers going down her spine. A cheerful Istaroth is an unpredictable one.

But beyond fear, it unnerves her to see the typically grumpy god sporting such a crappy grin.

"Oh, please. You really thought he'd cut you some slack because you decided to wake up with a dick between your legs ?"

"And yet, you believe that playing the obedient lapdog will save your ass. I wonder who's the delusional one here."

As he peeks at one of the watches on his wrist, his smile tightens slightly. Confused about what he might be expecting, Asmoday's senses sharpen as the building begins to rumble. Glancing at her fellow shade, she realizes it's not just any ordinary earthquake.

"You didn't, you fucking pigeon."

Assuming a fighting stance, Asmoday grits her teeth to push through the pain as more blood seeps from her wound. It's solely due to her powers that she can still draw breath after losing so much fluids. Despite knowing she's not capable of defeating him in her current condition, even with his own bruises, she refuses to meet her end at the hands of a treacherous traitor like him.

"Oh, but I did. Though you're giving me too much credit. I simply distracted the infatuated fool with a threat he couldn't overlook."

The wounded shade struggles to comprehend why he would betray them after all this time. While she understands his disdain for Phanes and anything associated with him, and acknowledges that time holds no significance for him, she still wonders why he would sacrifice everything for you.

"Why go such lenght for them ? They're just a guide."

Istaroth's smile dims slightly as the lights in the corridor begin flickering once more. Glaring down at Asmoday, the shade shows no hesitation as he has already made his decision.

"You see, as for now, Phanes believes you're six feet under. Wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would we?"

With a snap of his fingers, Asmoday collapses to her knees, gradually turning to ashes with a betrayed look in her eyes. Brushing off the remaining dust from his pants, Istaroth hopes that she'll appreciate the scene reminiscent of Hiroshima back in 1945. He hadn't anticipated her survival after what that descender did to her, she's definitely tougher than she appears. Snapping out of his thoughts, he stumbles as the entire building trembles once more. Chuckling, he rejoices in your success.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　A little earlier　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Inspecting his bloodied weapon, Aether pays no heed to the bodies of the guards who attempted to halt him. Displeased with the fact that the weapon you blessed him with is dirtied by the blood of nobodies, he proceeds to meticulously clean it. Though not entirely satisfied with the results, he glances at the neon loosing their brightness. In the darkness, he assumes a fighting stance, prepared to slay anything in his path.

As the lights flicker back to life, none of the guards' bodies remain to the eye, only the slender figure of the man, seemingly waiting. The cold neons accentuate his thin face and well-nourished black hair flowing along his body. His silver eyes, almost devoid of color, scrutinize him up and down in a judgmental manner.

"You should not be here."

With chills coursing down his spine, Aether takes a step back and tightens his grip on his sword. With just one sentence, Aether realizes that he's facing something far greater than the shade he fought to reach this point. Even if Aether can feel he's at a disadvantage, he's not one to back down. Unfortunately for him, he fails to grasp that this man isn't merely annoyed by his presence in his domain. For he had become the target of all the primordial one's frustrations and anger, he should consider himself lucky he's still able to breathe.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

In the midst of preparing to strike, Aether is stunned by the sudden disappearance of his sword. Startled, he lifts his head to find the man's face mere inches from his own. With a defiant tilt of his head, Aether faces the towering man head-on. Swiftly reaching for a spare knife at his belt, he lunges forward with his weapon. Yet, he staggers forward as the blade slices through empty air, the man vanishing in a blink. Surveying his surroundings, Aether notices that all exits have vanished, leaving the room illuminated solely by a solitary neon light above. Alert, Aether startles as a cold whisper brushes against his ear, sending a shiver down the blond boy's spine.

"You could hurt yourself."

Glancing back, Aether takes a close look at the necklace adorned with a small jewel around his neck. Unable to shake the familiar feeling he gets from the man, he scrutinizes his features while searching for any apparent weakness.

"You remind me of someone."

The man scoffs, straightens his back, and puts some distance between him and Aether. While he kows that the descender is simply dragging out the conversation to buy time, Phanes decides to indulge him. Being quite picky about his conversational partners, he isn't normaly the type to engage in small talk with his enemies. However, he supposes he can make an exception for this one.

"Humph, do I ?"

Left with no more weapons to spare, Aether clenches his fists and attempts to think of a way to breach his opponent's defense. Sometimes, nothing works better than a little provocation.

"I know they're here. And I need to talk with them."

"Oh, you won't, not on my watch."

Aether charges towards the man, poised to strike him down. Just as he's about to land a blow, the man dissipates into black sand upon impact, causing the descender to tumble and fall to the floor. Confused as to why the tiles has transformed into the same sand the man turned into, the blond traveler is left in shock as the scenery completely changes. Emerging in a boundless black desert bathed in the light of three moons against a starless sky, he fights to regain his footing.

"How did it feel ?"

As the man's voice echoes through the air, Aether begins to panic, finding himself getting pulled into quicksand. Unfortunately, the more he struggles to escape, the further he sinks. The moons high in the sky appear to mock him, as if he's to blame for his predicament. Taking a final breath before being completely submerged, the descender has no time to react as he suddenly falls into what seems like an endless void. However, it isn't truly limitless as he swiftly touches the bottom, landing on his back.

"To be unwanted."

Gritting his teeth together at the pain, Aether refuses to give up and strengthens himself once again. Observing the new scenery, his eyes widen upon seeing you in the distance. With his first step, a crack forms at his foot and extends towards you. As he starts to run in your direction, shattering the stone-like floor like thin ice, you only move farther away, leaving him alone in this hellish environement.

"Not good, does it ?"

With the temperature rising, the floor finally gives up under his weight, causing him to fall once again. Using his broken wings to somewhat cushion his fall, he manages to land on his feet.

"I get it, you know. Out of all, I might be the one closest to understanding what you're going through."

Observing the fire ravage the lands around him, a strange itch stirs within him as he starts to recognize the scenery. It's an itch he cannot scratch, only indicating that something is wrong. As screams resonate, he remains paralyzed, unable to break down at the sight before him.

"Nowhere to call home."

He witnesses his sister weeping over thousands of corpses, her gut-wrenching screams breaking his heart. Before he can take a step in her direction and call out to her, her head unnaturally snaps 180 degrees. Under Lumine's hateful glare, he begins to notice the clammy sensation on his hands, his horror growing as he realizes they are smeared with blood. He shuts his eyes tightly and pounds his head repeatedly, desperately trying to convince himself that the man is merely toying with his mind.

"You know, it took me a while to discover what was going on."

Upon opening his eyes, Aether discovers that he is now bound to a chair, the furniture itself constricting his hands behind his back. Before him, Phanes lounges in a comfortable seat, casually playing with the shattered intertwining of fate that symbolized the connection between you and the renowned traveler. Upon realizing this, the descender struggles against his restraints. Yet, as he attempts to vocalize his desire to reclaim it, no sound escapes his mouth.

"They hid you well. However, once the secret was out, all they could do was to plead on your behalf, begging me to spare your life."

Seeing that his captive had much to express, Phanes impulsively snaps his fingers, only to regret it instantly as Aether unleashes a furious scream that pierces his ears.

"You're the reason they abandoned me- !!"

The primordial being hastily snaps his fingers once more, brushing his forehead to alleviate the headache induced by just one sentence. Truly, this descender possesses the ability to irritate him like no one ever has, and he considers himself a patient man. Disregarding the claims of the blonde traveler, he dismissively waves his hand, prompting the furnitures to move out of his way as he approaches Aether.

"No, no, no, no, I didn't do anything. You see, I merely allowed them to toy with you. Ultimately, it was solely their choice to discard you."

Watching Aether squinting his eyes, revealing his lack of faith in the god's words, Phanes laughs mockingly at the sight. It's pitiful to see the descender place so much trust in you, as if you could truly be concerned with his well-being. Despite the man's assertions, Aether believes there must be a valid reason why you had to leave him, which is why he is determined to find you. You wouldn't have casted him aside simply out of boredom, would you?

"There's much about guides that you seem unaware of... Quite surprising, considering where you come from."

Feeling the release of his restraints, Aether is abruptly pulled to his feet as the room is swept away by an unknown force. Upon opening his eyes after the wind dies down, he finds himself up in the sky, with floating pillars adorning the scenery. As the setting evokes memories of the place where he first engaged in combat with the sustainer of the heavenly principles, a bad chilling sensation runs down his spine as something seizes his shoulders.

"You're free to believe me or not, but I understand how difficult it is to live in someone's shadow. First, your sister, then, [Name]. Perhaps it's time for you to learn how to be yourself."

As the god takes a melancholic tone towards the end of his words, he snaps out of whatever memory he was recalling. Aether, still unable to move on his own, observes a door materializing out of nowhere before swinging open, emitting a bright flashing light.

"Whatever, who am I kidding ? You never learn from your mistakes."

Stepping aside, Phanes waves with a slight fake smile on his lips.

"Oh and, you might want to start running."

Glancing behind him, Aether witnesses the stone slabs breaking and tumbling down. Rising to his feet, he makes a run for it. With his wings shattered from his previous journey that was intended to be the final one, he can only rely on his legs to reach the door. Leaping through it, his consciousness fades away.

'Resetting complete'

...

{Words : 7387}

Heya, finally i managed to post part 2 ! Sorry to keep you all waiting. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did while writing this.

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@lilisette24

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Ten: Radstorm Beast

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: An intense radstorm appears in the night leading to a battle and a revelation. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventually more smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 2.8k

The feeling of raindrops gently tapping against your skin startles you awake in the dead of night. It's a sensation you haven't experienced in this region for what feels like an eternity. Wiping the cool water from your face, you sit up slowly, taking in the sight of the camp. The Ghoul lies peacefully nearby, undisturbed by the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain.

As you watch the fluttering embers of the campfire, a sudden green flash of lightning illuminates the sky, followed by a deep, rumbling thunder. The unexpected storm spooks you, a sense of foreboding creeping in as you realize a radstorm is fast approaching. In all your years across the wasteland, you've never witnessed one this far west. Back east, you encountered them far too frequently.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you anxiously mutter under your breath as panic sets in. Desperately scanning the surroundings for any form of shelter, a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the darkness, revealing a dilapidated Slocum’s Joe in the distance. Without hesitation, you crawl over to the sleeping ghoul and shake him awake.

"Heh?" he groans, barely stirring from his slumber. "What's the deal, Smoothie?"

"Radstorm!" you urgently exclaim, your voice filled with concern.

He looks at you with a hint of indifference in his sleepy eyes. "And?"

"Come on, we need to find shelter," you implore, gesturing towards the looming storm outside.

The Ghoul lets out a nonchalant grunt. "Doesn't affect me, remember?"

"Oh, for fuck’s sake!" Frustration boils over within you as the urgency of the situation amplifies. Without hesitation, you grab the Ghoul's cowboy hat and bolt towards the donut shop, hoping he'll follow. Despite his yelling obscenities at you, you push forward, each step bringing the looming storm closer.

The sound of thunder reverberates through the air, a chilling reminder of the imminent danger. Your heart races as you push yourself to run faster, the limited supply of rad-x in your bag serving as a stark reminder that you can't afford to risk radiation sickness at the moment. The rain intensifies, pouring down in heavy sheets, soaking you to the bone.

Finally reaching the building, you muster the last of your energy to slam open the door and collapse onto the ground, your chest heaving as you gasp for precious air. As you struggle to catch your breath, you turn to shut the door behind you and that's when you notice The Ghoul standing in the doorway, his dead eyes staring back at you with an unsettling calmness.

“Hat. Now,” he snarls, his tone commanding. Despite the exhaustion coursing through your body, a spark of defiance ignites within you. With a stubborn glare, you reach for the cowboy hat and place it atop your head. The Ghoul's eyes narrow as he watches you defiantly wear his cowboy hat. His patience begins wearing thin as he demands in a low, threatening growl, "Give me the hat, now."

"Maybe," you pant, still struggling to catch your breath, "I feel like being a cowboy right now."

The Ghoul's expression darkens, his jaw clenching in a silent display of seething anger. His hand twitches, as if he's on the verge of taking action, but he ultimately restrains himself. The storm outside rages on as you both stand locked in a silent standoff.

"You don't get to play games with me, sweetheart," he snaps, his voice dripping with menace. The underlying threat, coupled with the disturbingly affectionate nickname, instills a queasy feeling deep in your gut. This standstill begins transforming the donut shop into a pressure cooker of defiance and intimidation.

"It's truly confusing," you begin, your voice steady, "the way you seem to constantly switch between wanting me and hating me."

A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the room, casting a stark light on his face and revealing a conflicting mix of emotions. His features contort, caught in a moment of indecision, as if battling an internal struggle that threatens to consume him. You catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, a glint of something deeper beneath the tough exterior. He clenches his fists, the muscles in his arms tensing with a raw, primal energy. The room seems to vibrate with his pent-up frustration and simmering rage.

“I don’t hate you, I-“ The Ghoul's words are abruptly cut off by a loud roar that shakes the building, the sound reverberating through the air and drowning out whatever confession he was about to make. In an instant, the atmosphere shifts from tense to downright terrifying.

Realization dawns as heavy footsteps draw closer, the unmistakable sound of a yao guai echoing through the walls of the shop. Panic sets in as you both understand the gravity of the situation - there's no way the two of you can take it on, especially in the midst of a raging radstorm.

Without exchanging a word, he swiftly ducks down beside you, his presence offering a sense of fleeting protection. The storm outside intensifies, the howling winds and crashing thunder serving as an ominous backdrop to the situation. Your eyes widen in surprise as you notice The Ghoul loading a weapon that looks like a hand cannon, unlike anything you've ever seen before. Is he seriously thinking of fighting that right now?

He glances over at you, his gaze meeting yours with a silent intensity. In a swift and subtle gesture, he lifts a finger to his lips, a universal sign for silence. But you can't help but shake your head in protest, silently urging him not to go through with whatever dangerous plan he has in mind. Ignoring your protests, he quietly gets up and heads toward the door, each step deliberate and filled with purpose.

“Cooper…. Don’t do this,” you whisper, the sound of his true name cutting through the silence like a knife. It seems to startle him, making him pause in his tracks as he turns to face you. The look of utter confusion in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent question as to how you could possibly know his real identity.

He pushes forward, his hand reaching for the doorknob. You watch in silence as he steps outside, the heavy door closing with a muted thud behind him. Alone in the dimly lit donut shop, you are left to anxiously peer through the large window in front of you, the glass reflecting the eerie glow of the radstorm outside.

In the darkness outside, the glowing silhouette of the yao guai stands out starkly, its massive form a menacing shadow against the backdrop of the swirling rain and debris. Through the large window of the shop, you watch in tense silence as Cooper moves with quiet determination, carefully maneuvering around the deadly creature.

The sight of it sends a shiver down your spine, its sheer size and ferocity a chilling reminder of one you faced years ago. You realize that this is the same yao guai from the other night. It must have been stalking the two of you.

As Cooper steps closer to the yao guai, you hold your breath, fear gripping your heart in a vice-like grip. The rain pelts against the window, creating a distorted view of the unfolding confrontation. Despite the chaotic storm raging outside, an eerie calm settles within you as you observe his movements with bated breath. The yao guai lets out a guttural growl, its glowing eyes fixed on the ghoul’s silhouette.

A flash of lightning illuminates the scene for a split second, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. In that brief moment, you catch a glimpse of Cooper's face, a mask of determination etched with a cocky smirk. As another rumble of thunder reverberates through the air, the yao guai lunges forward, its massive form hurtling towards him with frightening speed.

But just before the creature reaches him, Cooper moves with astonishing agility, sidestepping the attack with a grace that belies his rugged appearance. In one swift motion, he raises his weapon and takes aim, the deafening roar of the gun echoing through the storm-ridden night. The shot reverberates through the building, shaking the very foundation as a bright flash of light illuminates the room. The yao guai lets out a deafening roar, a mixture of pain and fury filling the air. It stumbles back, wounded but not defeated, its glowing eyes fixed on Cooper with a fierce intensity.

Against all odds, Cooper stands his ground, his jaw clenched in unwavering determination. With a steady hand and fierce focus, he raises his weapon once more, the fire of resolve blazing in his eyes. Another shot shatters the stillness, the creature's glowing eyes fixed on him as it charges forward with deadly intent. But as the gun roars, the bullet misses its mark, and the behemoth's momentum proves too great. With a sickening crash, Cooper is flung through the window - a shower of glass fragments scattering in his wake. The deafening sound of breaking glass fills the air as you shield your face from it and he tumbles to the ground beside you.

You glance between your hands, shooting him a pointed look. “If this is your idea of being a hero, you're not doing great.”

He groans, pushing himself up from the floor. “Shut the fuck up, Smoothie. You ain’t doin’ any bet-“

Before he can retort, a deafening crash shatters the moment as the massive form of the yao guai jumps through the broken window, its glowing eyes fixated on the two of you with a predatory intensity. The creature roars, its sheer ferocity filling the cramped space of the donut shop with a bone-chilling sound. The yao guai charges forward, its massive claws raking the air as it closes the distance between you. You attempt to make a run for cover as it lunges towards you but the glass covered floor proves difficult.

Cooper's finger tightens on the trigger, the gun's barrel aimed with lethal precision. A resounding gunshot echoes through the room, shattering the tension like the glass surrounding you. But before the bullet can find its mark, the yao guai's massive form crashes into you from the side, its claws slashing through the air and striking your back with a searing pain. The force of the impact sends you sprawling, the breath knocked out of your lungs as you slam into the debris-strewn floor. The world swims before your eyes, a haze of agony and disorientation clouding your senses as you struggle to regain your bearings.

As you attempt to push yourself up from the shattered floor, the yao guai looms over you, its hot breath washing over your face in a putrid wave. With a primal growl, the creature raises its massive paw, claws poised to strike a fatal blow. Panic grips your heart as you desperately search for an escape, the pain in your back lancing through you with each labored breath.

You manage to wrestle the gun from your holster, your fingers wrapping around the cold metal weapon. With a quick and precise movement, you aim at the yao guai's looming eye and pull the trigger. The yao guai stumbles back, a deafening roar of agony escaping its maw as it flounders in pain, its one good eye now filled with raw anguish. With a final, desperate cry, the monstrous creature collapses to the ground, its massive form shaking the very foundation of the donut shop. The once-glowing eyes now dim into lifeless orbs, the threat extinguished in a single, decisive moment.

The room falls eerily silent, the only sounds breaking the stillness being the rain drumming against the shattered windows and the ragged, uneven sounds of your breaths as you struggle to regain your composure. Cooper rushes to your side, his voice cutting through the haze of pain and disorientation. "Hang in there, Smoothie," he says, his tone a mixture of concern and urgency.

The initial shock begins to fade, replaced by a wave of searing pain that radiates through your body. With a raw, guttural scream, you feel the full extent of the deep claw marks on your back. The agony is overwhelming, a pulsating ache that renders you momentarily breathless. Cooper's hands are gentle yet firm as he assesses the wounds, his expression set in a mask of focused concern.

"We need to get you patched up, sweetheart," he whispers. He helps you to your feet, offering support as you wince with each movement. The world spins dizzily around you as you take a step forward. A spike of excruciating pain lances through you, causing the edges of your vision to blur and darken. Your strength gives out, and the world tilts dangerously before everything fades into a deep, dark abyss of oblivion.

As consciousness ebbs and flows like the tide, you struggle to grasp onto the fleeting moments of lucidity that come and go. In the haze of fragmented reality, you catch glimpses of Cooper's rugged features as he carries you through the wasteland, the passage of time blurred into a seamless continuum of day and night.

Snippets of words filter through the fog in your mind, fragments of his voice urging you to hold on, to fight against the tide of darkness threatening to consume you. You hear him mutter curses under his breath, his gruff tone laced with a hint of exasperation and affection as he chides you for getting hurt.

Through the haze of pain and fatigue, Cooper's presence is a constant, his unyielding strength a beacon of hope in the otherwise desolate landscape of your fractured consciousness. You recall the moment when you let slip Cooper's real name, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability in the face of danger. Does it really matter now, where death looms ever closer?

A sense of resignation settles over you, the harsh truth of your mortality looming large in the recesses of your consciousness. Despite Cooper's valiant efforts to keep you alive, you can't shake the feeling of impending doom that hovers on the edge of your fading senses. The wasteland is a merciless mistress, and you are but a speck in its vast and unforgiving expanse. Sleep overtakes you once more.

Your eyes struggle to focus as consciousness timidly returns, the relentless grip of pain still a haunting presence in your body. With a deep, shuddering breath, you manage to pry your heavy eyelids open, the dim light of the decaying hospital room casting a grim shadow over your surroundings. The stark realization sets in as you take in your surroundings – the barren walls, the layers of dust and sand coating every surface – a far cry from any functional medical center.

The afternoon sun filters through a cracked window, casting dusty rays of light across the dilapidated room. The muted sounds of the wasteland drift in through the broken walls, creating an eerie backdrop to the scene. Lying on the ancient hospital bed, you feel a sense of disorientation wash over you, the memories of the yao guai still a jumbled mess in your mind.

As you turn your gaze to the right, your eyes fall upon the ghoul posted against the wall, his weathered features softened in sleep. Despite the desolation of the room, there is a strange sense of peace in the quiet of the moment. Your throat protests with a raspy cough, a harsh reminder of the parched dryness that plagues you. When was the last time you drank water?

The sound of your cough reverberates through the room, rousing Cooper from his slumber. "Shit, Smoothie. You still hangin' in there," he croaks, his voice rough with concern.

You try to form a question, to ask where you are or what happened, but the overwhelming pain clutches at your words, silencing your inquiry.

"Now shut that pretty little mouth of yours, darlin'," Cooper interjects, his tone firm yet filled with a hint of warmth. "Save your strength. I found us a doctor. Or at least a fella who claims to be one."

A man enters the room, a palpable stench of sweat and decay trailing in his wake. Dressed in a tattered, weather-worn suit that hangs loosely on his emaciated frame, his hair a tangled mess, he exudes a dubious air of confidence. A crooked smile twists his lips as his bloodshot eyes fixate on you. Recognition sparks in your mind - this man is the infamous salesman from Filly with a reputation for his indecent liberties with chickens.

"I have concocted an elixir that heals all! But I must warn you: the taste, not great," the snake oil salesman declares with a dubious grin, his eyes alight with a deceptive spark of promise.

Your gaze slowly shifts to lock with Cooper's, a silent exchange passing between you. He sees the storm of rage building within you, the distrust and disdain simmering just beneath the surface.

"What's the problem?"

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