#the victory star of fate

[angel-of-reckoning]

I've begun working on a new, detailed outline for The Victory Star of Fate Retake that will serve as a "bible" for its setting, characters and story.

[gacha-incels]

regarding character design in gacha games- if you haven’t played many, I will show examples from some popular ones here. This is for reference regarding confusion as to why incels often play these games. This isn’t to cover everything in these games either, there are games with much more absurd designs and I’m not even going to get into the “sexy little girl” designs a lot of them have. In the future I plan to research more and intend to make a concise post regarding the incel relationship with these games. These character designs and tropes exist across societies and are enforced through many types of media - it’s not just gacha games alone perpetuating them. I think they are however hypervisual in this specific genre mostly due to the huge amounts of money being spent by players in “purchasing” them. again this is just for reference, if you already are familiar with female character gacha design feel free to skip this. I’ll put it under a cut.

gacha games are infamous for typically having extremely sexualized female characters who will usually flatter the assumed male player. Again there are some that designers and writers will dress more chaste or have them give the player shit, but by “winning” these characters they are now “yours” anyway, they are not real women and therefore can’t walk away. I believe a big part of this appeal is due to incel men wanting to control a woman designed for an audience of people like him. The hypersexualization serves both to flatter his idea of a woman’s true place (his consumption) and to create a very rigid and obvious differentiation between men and women during a time when women are fighting tooth and nail for their dignity and equal rights.

Nostalgia and rigid character design dichotomy can be seen in the extremely popular gacha game Fate/Grand Order, I believe a good piece of its success can be attributed to this. There are thousands of Japanese gacha games that take already popular anime franchises and create a money pit gacha with them, it’s been happening for over a decade now. These games usually make bank taking already popular characters and giving them hypersexualized alts and costumes. FGO is an interesting phenomenon to me because it seems like for a lot of fans, the Fate franchise’s cultural touchstone is now this actual gacha game. The game adds popular existing Fate characters of course, so you can see how different the gacha character designs are from the VN/animes:

When you can only watch them/read their stories, the characters are dressed like the above examples. When they are added to the game and you can buy and own them, they look like the bottom examples.

The (rare) depiction of darker skinned female characters in these gacha games is pretty uniform across the board- they are somehow, consistently, sexualized even more than the other female characters, they are often exoticized and sometimes have a “wild” or rebellious looking aspect incorporated. I would consider this something the intended audience expects to see, regardless of the truth, and the gacha game reflects this back to their customers, therefore enshrining this damaging stereotype to its audience. These examples don’t account for everything of course.

As to not offend the delicate male viewer, these games also typically design furry/animal characters by having the female retain the most human-like features (like a small and delicate face) while the male is allowed to actually look like the animal. When a female character has armor that conceals her sex, there is of course a version of her you can “upgrade” where she takes off her armor to reveal a very delicate girl in revealing clothing.

Typically, the consumer will see powerful, sturdy looking male designs that attempt to not alienate the straight male viewer first before adding “sexy” elements. In contrast, female characters are almost always very thin (often with exaggerated tits and ass) and her pose is chosen to show off her body first, before her power. This is an Arknights dual banner that displays this design philosophy well:

some of the biggest incel shitfits come from male designs they see as being sexualized and objectified as the typical female design. these are 3 characters Korean incels have lost their minds over:

In their world, the rigid sex dichotomy is breaking down and the hierarchal system of gender where men are on top is being threatened. they don’t feel powerful seeing lithe and skimpily dressed men, and they aren’t the hentai “femboy” fetish these guys seem ok with either. incels see these games as their playground. when designs like these are included, they see it as their job to rectify this. Lyney’s costume and demeanor is too “sexy” and “gay” for Korean incels, they mass dislike his character trailer and write hateful comments across SNS. Sinclair is shirtless and wearing a collar - Korean incels are furious he’s wearing less than the female summer character and see the collar as meaning he’s a “slave” for the female customer. This snowballs into them targeting a female artist on staff, Vellmori, and getting her fired even though it was a male artist who illustrated the cards. I’ve posted Korean incels comments on the Honkai Star Rail character- similar to Lyney, they are angry he looks “slutty” and/or “gay” since he has a boob window and detached sleeves. This is too similar to how the female characters are made “sexy” and it means women have prominent roles creating for these games, something incels of course hate. Regarding the role women should have in creating these games, a Korean incel wrote (after seeing photos that include many female staff members at Mihoyo) that they should just be there working at the cafe to serve coffee to male employees and look pretty for them.

In regards to how some of these games are marketed, we can again look to the article written by a Korean woman who was a victim of feminist ideological verification.

character designs for NIKKE and Destiny Child:

what the gameplay for NIKKE looks like:

[onlylonelylatino]

Post-Crisis history of the Seven Soldiers of Victory by Scott Kolins

[flokali]

♢ I love you, I own you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub-con, penetration, coming inside, unprotected, undertones of misogyny, toxic parents, manipulation and gaslighting, obsessive, paranoid, and possessive behavior, toxic mindset, coerced submission, getting walked into, bribing, murder, torture, self-doubt and insecurities (mc), arranged marriage, implied financial insecurity, implied virginity (mc & childe), spoilers for tartaglia’s story/lore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unreliable narration (at times). ask to tag.

pairing: afab! fem! reader (bottom) x childe (top)

word count: 13.3k

a/n: ahhh; hopefully this is good >_< i love him so much… after almost a year, ‘tis done ^_^

part two: here

— 18+

Childe is horrified and incredibly angered, if not down right homicidal, when he finds out your parents planned to have you engaged to a no-name Fatui henchman, it’s only a further blow to his already weakened heart when the news don’t come from you nor your family but from the loud mouths of your “soon to be fiancé” and his goons. His blue eyes widen and he feels himself grow lightheaded, his stomach feels like it’s turning itself inside out and, oh Celestia, he thinks he’s going to puke.

While perhaps not the most befitting behavior for a Harbinger, Ajax couldn’t help but eavesdrop when he had first heard the mention of your name and while he’s extremely glad he did, - he’s silently thanking the Tsaritsa for telling him now so he could do something - he almost wishes he didn’t as he’s now forced to go back to his office and wordlessly deal with the intrusive thoughts racing through his head.

All he can think about are the countless pinky promises you’d both made to each other during your childhood, the coos of both of your parents when they had first heard him declare his love for you, the feeling of your hands against his when you kissed his cheek goodbye before the fateful day he stumbled down the abyss, the way you and only you were the sole thing keeping him together during his time there, the way you sobbed in relief when he first approached you after emerging victorious from hell itself; did those moments mean nothing? Had only he been impacted by them? Had you forgotten his love for you - your love for him?

No, he thought as he marched to his desk, there’s no way - you had to have felt it too, you must have kept those memories deep in your heart as did he. You both were meant to be, childhood sweethearts, one soul in two different bodies, created from the same stars and carved out from the same earth, put into the same world to meet and love each other from your first life to the last. You were his and he was yours, you were one and the same, you were lovers - it was written in the stars and in his very flesh, it was a fact as true as his love for you.

His breathing is ragged and he can’t contain his shaking body, he never should have trusted your parents - they obviously didn’t have your best interest in mind, if they cared about you at all they would have never promised your hand to another, they would’ve realized he, Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax, he was the best man for you.

Granted, they hadn’t heard from good little Ajax for years, not ever since he’d left for the Fatui - he only ever kept consistent correspondence with you and his family - but that’s no excuse, there was no excuse for their actions, they were disgusting pests that were blinded by greed. How much money had they taken to accept such a disgusting agreement? 500,000 Mora? No, that was too cheap… 1,000,000? 2,000,000? More? Maybe it was in the tens of millions, there was no way you were being given away for less, right?

“Ahhh,” the ginger sank in his chair, his trembling hands finding his hair and pulling at the soft strands in frustration, “what do I do now? What should I do? What should I do? Shit… this can’t be happening.”

He wanted to cry and destroy everything. Destroy that man, no… that poor, pathetic excuse of a man that had dared try and stake his claim on you. This wasn’t your fault, there was no way you knew – never once in your letters had you mentioned a lover nor a wedding, you would have told him - would have begged for him to save you - if you did know you must have cried and begged for them to not marry you to that bastard, sobbed as you muttered his - Ajax’s - name like a mantra, begging to be taken by him and finally wed to the true love of your life.

It felt like the world was falling and crushing him alive.

How could they do this to you? How dare they do this to you? To him, to you, to the both of you.

He could just have the man killed, sent on a suicide mission disguised as an essential step for gnosis hunting - maybe even under the pretense of a promotion, he was sure he’d accept anything, he was a no name soldier that would probably be forgotten by the next round of recruitment -, and make your parents go bankrupt, burn their house and have their businesses fail before delivering the final blow of jailing them due to fraud or maybe even executed under claims of treason; the thoughts calmed his rapid heart, if only slightly.

They needed to be taught a lesson, they shouldn’t put their dirty, greedy hands where they didn’t belong.

But no, that’d be too light of a punishment, and there would be so many loose threads - he’d rather be on good terms with your family - if only for you -, could it maybe be a misunderstanding? It could be, right? They were like family to him once, after all, and a part of him hates the idea of them having grown so vile and corrupted, they were supposed to be his in-laws and he’d rather his children have both sets of grandparents. Not to mention, you’d be so sad to see them gone, even if there was a chance they were worth nothing more than dirt.

No, that wouldn’t do, his wife couldn’t be sad - he’d confront them as soon as physically possible, question their actions and propose a better arrangement, and depending on their answer they would become the Fatui’s latest show of loyalty to the Tsaritsa or officially join the perfect future he’d dreamed of with you.

Yes, that’s what he’d do, his shaking heart finally comes to a rest as he begins to plan his trip. If things went south he could easily have his initial plan executed quickly, and while he doesn’t particularly like the idea of having to plan their execution arrangements, justice wasn’t always pleasant.

It’d be alright, surely all of this could be resolved through a mature, adult conversation. And if not, then Childe wasn’t a Harbinger for naught.

It takes him a few days until he’s able to find the time to meet up with your parents, though, honestly, it’s more like barging into your home unannounced and demanding answers. He has a job - a serious job, after all, one that demands his presence and takes true effort and work, unlike that shitty excuse of meat your parents wanted you to marry - and he had matters to attend to – after all forging evidence for a possible execution isn’t easy and he wants to be prepared, it was one of the few times where he wanted to come in with a proper battle plan.

He had it all planned out if things went south, a few reports here, some testimonies there, a lengthy transcript or two, a handful of bank reports, and soon your parents would look like traitors to the crown and be sentenced to public execution.

All he had to do was confront them in person. He wasn’t sure if your parents would be home, he hoped so as to not prolong such a troublesome process any longer, but he was willing to wait. He was getting his answers today, one way or another; he’d free you from this horrid arrangement and whisk you away to give you the life you truly deserved.

Luckily for him, you live in the same neighborhood as you always had, so no time had to be wasted searching for your family’s whereabouts. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to come back to his childhood neighborhood and he can’t help the giddiness in his heart as he strolls through memory lane while making his way down the streets you two shared a childhood in, it looked almost the same - a few differences here and there like a new house or someone’s place having been renovated, but it felt just like home. His parents had long since moved houses into a fancier side of the city, the money Childe managed to bring home as a Harbinger long since allowing them the luxuries that had once felt impossible, but he almost wishes they hadn’t as he spots your family’s humble abode, his heart longing back to the days of your shared youth.

It’s a two story house, built with strong wood made to resist Snezhnaya’s harshest winters and the cold summers, the roof was made of strong wood and designed so that snow would fall as to not sink, the front yard still held the swing you’d begged your parents for on your tenth birthday, the mailbox was still slightly crooked from the time he had head-butted it when racing you back from the park, the flowerbed still held the same flowers and plants that were able to withstand Snezhnaya’s harsh weather, the tree somehow still seemed to harbor the countless balls you two had gotten stuck there back when you were in your preteens; it was like it had been frozen in time, the only true difference he could spot was your older figure sitting on the front steps looking as if you were waiting for something, maybe someone; maybe him.

His heart stops as do his steps, he’d been so busy the last couple of years he hadn’t been able to pay you a visit in person, he’d had a few soldiers patrol the area before, but nothing could prepare Ajax for the surge of emotions that coursed through his body as he laid eyes on you.

Your body was taller and you had grown into your features, but you were still you - your eyes still shined with the hope and love he’d long since lost while your lips were still as tempting as he remembered. There was no doubt it was you, he’d recognize you anywhere; no matter how much you changed. But you looked sad, your lips downcast, your eyes filled with tears, and your frame hunched over, it was clear you were cold by the shaking of your frame but you didn’t falter - still sitting down with a flimsy blanket wrapped around you as you waited.

The scene made him pick up his pace, he was desperate to reach your side; what had happened? Why did you look so sad? Were you hurt? His men had not informed him of anything happening that would explain the crystal like tears that pooled in your eyes, just the sight was enough to have his blood boiling and fists shaking as he wondered who was responsible for the pain you so openly displayed.

Have you found out about Andrei and your parents’ sins? The thought of them being the reason for your sorrow made him grow dizzy with rage, but the negative feelings can only last so long as he has you in his sights. Your mere presence seemed to lull his emotional heart into a more tranquil state.

“[Y/N]?” Childe asked, he was only a few feet away from you but he didn’t dare walk closer, “Is that you?”

“A-Ajax?” Your eyes widened, hope evident in your voice and it’s like all traces of the previous pain in your face had vanished, “Oh, Ajax!”

You hesitate for a second before breaking into a smile when you realize it really was him. It almost looks like you want to burst into tears and he’s sure he probably doesn’t look any better, seeing you in the flesh after so long felt like a dream and as if every moment without you until now had been but a nightmare, he can’t help himself from running towards you and throwing himself into your arms. He looks older, definitely more mature, his is build stronger now - probably due to the fighting and training he endured as a Harbinger, you thought - but his smile was still the same, perhaps a bit empty but it still filled your heart with a warmth that could battle Snezhnaya’s unforgiving cold. It felt right to have him back in your arms as if time had never been cruel and taken him away from you, you could have sweared your worries disappeared the moment you took in his warmth.

His white coat floats through the air as he lands between your arms, and you can feel his smile in your chest as he hugs you tight.

He was finally home, he thought, in your arms and back in the neighborhood that had raised him - he was with you and that was all that mattered, the man was filled with so much ecstasy he could almost forget why he’d come here.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, your voice is shaky and the ginger feels himself melt at the familiar tone of your voice.

“I should be asking you that,” he laughs, his eyebrows becoming furrowed in concern as he speaks, “it’s freezing, darling, you shouldn’t be outside.”

“I… I was waiting for one of your letters,” you whisper shyly, during your time away from each other - weekly letters had been your primary source of communication, something you’d learn to love and cherish as one of the few forms of contact you and Childe could have without your parents knowing his dangerous job and position.

“You’re so cute,” he coos, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders as he realizes you were safe, if anything he feels ashamed he hadn’t been able to send you anything and caused you such pain, his heart aches as he tries to wrap around his head he may have hurt your feelings, his gloved fingers find your cheek and squeezes it tightly, “however, it’s too cold for you to be outside with just a blanket, my love.”

“I know,” you shake your head, you go to lift a hand to wipe the stray tears that had escaped you but Childe takes care of it for you as he delicately caressed your face, “it’s just, I hadn’t heard from you in almost two weeks and I got worried, I thought… maybe something had happened in Liyue and you’d gotten hurt.”

“O-oh… I’m sorry,” his deep blue eyes look downcast as he processes your words, “I never meant to worry you, I had so much to do and to say that instead of a letter I decided to come meet you in person, i-isn’t that better, love? I simply couldn’t be away from you any longer, it’s my fault, though, I should have told you so earlier, ahh… I can’t believe I’ve made my angel cry.”

A poor soldier would have their head cut off tonight, he thought, for he was certain he’d sent a bag full of letters meant to last you at least a full season to be delivered everyday to you while he arranged for this mess to be solved.

You nod as stars fill your eyes before shaking your head as if assuring him you were alright. You loved Ajax and you had loved him for almost all your life, from the moment you met him you’d been charmed by his boyish good looks and charisma, of course a few things had changed, but he was still your sweet Ajax, the boy who’d stolen your heart and kept it safely within his arms for as long as you’ve known him.

“Come on,” you signal him to stand up with a soft pat and the man has to stop himself from begging for more of your touch, “let’s go inside, you must be tired and we have so much to talk about.” He nods and lets himself be pulled up by you as you giggle and smile about finally being able to talk face to face after years of not being able to physically see each other.

You feel like a teenager again as you lead Ajax into your house, your heart beating like you were confessing your love for the first time - the excitement was practically the same, your head felt fuzzy from the warm feeling holding Childe’s hand gave you; you had missed him terribly. You feel like you were about to explode into a million piece from excitement, your head filled with everything you’ve ever wanted to say to Ajax’s face ever since he left, all the news that felt too important to simply write out and that had you hoping a day like this would finally come, you’re scared of coming off too intensely but your heart truly feels like it’ll burst from joy, unfortunately your excitement comes to an abrupt end when you finally drag him into your living room. You turn around to offer him a drink or something to eat, the trip from the capital all the way over here was a couple hours long and he’d always had quite an appetite, but you’re faced with a look of disappointment and slight anger as he looks around the room, your heart sinks - just seconds ago he was all smiles and laughter as you two embraced each other in the harsh winter, having created a warm paradise between each other, but now he looked as if he couldn’t stand to be in your house and you wonder if maybe you’d angered him somehow even though you logically knew you’d done nothing other than invite him inside.

Maybe you were overreacting, you think, you’d been quite paranoid as of recently, your family had been distant and you’d been feeling lonely and anxious for a while. It’d been an embarrassingly long time since you’d had guests over, at least, guests that mattered to you and hadn’t been your parents’ friends or siblings spouses. The look in Ajax’s face makes your stomach churn; had something happened?

“Are your parents home?” He asks, his voice tinged in a mixture of distaste and sadness, it’s lower than when he’d spoken to you earlier and you wonder what could have happened to create such a drastic change in his behavior. If you took the time to notice you’d see how his eyes glare at the family portrait; the two traitors clear as day as they embraced their children, Childe couldn’t help but see them in a new, more negative and hateful light.

Not after two weeks of research, not when he was now certain they wanted to get in his way.

“No, they said they weren’t coming home until later tonight, but if you want to stay till then I’m sure they'd love to see you again,” you try to reassure him thinking he was perhaps saddened at not being able to see your parents, it’d make sense since, unlike you two, they hadn’t been able to keep in touch since the young man’s career in the Fatui began.

“I… I don’t think I want to meet them, no,” Ajax shakes his head, his hair bouncing as he makes his way to your sofa, his legs tremble slightly – cowards, he thinks, not even able to show their faces, “I actually came here to talk to them but, ha… now that I’m here I’m not too sure.”

“Hmm, how so?” You ask, your heart - which was already quite nervous at his sudden change of mood - sinks further, a sudden uneasiness fills your lungs.

He’d come here in hopes of finding you parents and confronting them with his findings, he would have offered them a chance to redeem themselves and cancel the wedding without you even finding out about the secret dealings they’d been making in your name, but they were not here, you were. Maybe, he could change his battle plan, if he couldn’t talk to your parents… why not simply talk to you? If he’d offered a higher sum and never asked you himself, he’d be no better than that lowlife and your parents, not that you’d reject him - but the thought of steeping as low as they did made him sick.

“What are your thoughts about marriage?” The question is so sudden and unrelated to the previous topic you instinctively frown.

“Marriage,” you sit down opposite of him, it feels like you’re in a job interview as he questions you, “I mean, I’ve thought about it but I’m not sure I want to get married, at least not now, I’m not too sure I’d want to give it all up; I mean, I have a job and friends, there’s so much to do, so much I want to do… and I can’t say I’d be able to do it all if I was married. I’d like to travel and, I… I don’t know, learn more I guess, I feel like if I settle down it'll be once I’m more, you know, confident or mature?”

You trail off awkwardly, it was true - the only times you’d ever seriously thought about marriage often included you being significantly older and, most of the time, with an already retired Ajax — though you wouldn’t admit that to his face unless you were certain he felt the same. You’d rather keep that last part hidden, if not for fear of making him uncomfortable, for the sake of your heart and fear of being brushed aside. Your parents had made it quite clear; you were no marriage-material, you’d be lucky if you even manage to get a partner at this rate, and you doubted a man as accomplished as Tartaglia, Ajax, the 11th Harbinger, would settle for a average, clumsy, pessimistic small town girl such as yourself.

He stays quiet as if a million thoughts were racing around his head; that wasn’t the answer he particularly wanted, he’d rather hear you’d been fantasizing of marrying him, hear you ramble on and on about how you’d been waiting for him and were just about ready to go down the aisle with him and promise yourself to one another but he was glad you weren’t against the idea of marriage, even if he wished you’d been more open about doing it sooner rather than later; but that would change, he was sure of it.

“And, uh, what about you?” You ask, the air felt heavy and you desperately wanted to ease the tension, only one thought was really running through your head that you were too afraid to ask; “What was going on with Ajax?”

“Me?” The question snaps him out of whatever mental trance he’d caught himself in, “Well, I want to get married, the sooner the better, I want to have a family, but it’s gotta be with the person I love the most in this world, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine living without them.”

Neither the words themselves nor the sentiment are crazy, even if you’d only just gotten to know him, it was obvious Ajax wanted a loving family to call his own and it was a pretty common desire for many, it more so was the way his eyes seemed to bore into your own as he spoke, as if he were trying to let you know it was you who he was talking about. You flustered at the thought, it was perhaps selfish to think it was you he was talking about but the thought pleased you nonetheless even if your parents’ words echoed in your mind.

“That’s, ah,” you mumble, breaking eye contact and looking elsewhere, trying to calm your beating heart, you should stop being so silly - he was here to talk with your parents, not you, both of you meeting was mere coincidence, nothing else, “really nice, I hope you find them soon..”

“You do?” He smiles, seemingly pleased with your words, but it’s significantly weaker than usual.

There’s an awkward silence as you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d come here to propose. You know it sounds crazy and incredibly sudden but the mention of marriage and wanting to talk to your folk, the fact he’d made the time in his incredibly busy schedule and travels to come over to your house, it made it sound like he had ulterior motives for coming here and just the thought of them had you flustered. You may have just said you wanted to hold off on marriage, that you doubted someone like him would even think of being your partner, but you felt certain that if Ajax asked for your hand you would agree with no hesitation – out of a pitiful mix of love and desperation.

You’re unsure of what to do and are about to speak up, willing to say almost anything to move the conversation forward and away from the topic, but he beats you to it and breaks the silence first.

“Listen, dove… I-I love your parents and I wouldn’t accuse them of something like this if I didn’t have evidence, okay?” He lies through his teeth, after finding out the way they were so willing to get in between you two he could barely stand the thought of them now, but he’s lucky the rest of the words come easy, “I really didn’t want to believe this either, but I have many a reason to suspect they may be trying marrying you off soon to a stranger.”

“W-What?” You breathe out, you struggle to process his words, it’s as if they’d bounced off your brain and floated off elsewhere, “M-marrying me off? What’s - what do you mean?”

No, no, no way.

You feel yourself grow tense and light headed.

What sort of messed up prank was this? There was no way… right?

“It seems they found a member of the Fatui,” he shakes his head, “a guy named Andrei Galkin, and they’re planning to marry you off to him, so I decided to ask around - it seems like it’s been a topic for a while now, money may be involved too, the reason I came here was to… have a talk with your parents, see if I could change their mind.”

“D-do you even have proof?” You ask with a shivering voice, heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to feel hot in embarrassment and anger; your parents were meaning to sell you off to some man? This had to be a joke Childe was playing, you’d known he’d become a bit off after the Abyss incident and you knew his time as a Harbinger probably messed him up, but this wasn’t funny. It was disgusting, the mere prospect has you trembling as you try and grasp what on earth was happening. However, the more you look at him, you wonder if this is a joke at all. You studied him and his expression, desperately trying to see anything on his face that’d indicate this was a sick prank from his part, a cheeky smile or maybe lack of eye contact - anything would do, you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate as you realized how absurd it’d be for him to come all the way to a village hours away from the main city to play such a horrible joke on you, one he must have known would cause you pain and anguish — you doubted he’d want to see you like this, at least you hoped he wouldn’t want to see you like this.

Oh, the realization makes you grow lightheaded, he was probably telling the truth.

“There’s correspondence between them and his family, there’s also a wedding venue booked under their names,” Ajax mumbled, his voice a mere whisper against the sound of your beating heart, he pulls a few files from his coat and hands them to you - your last name is printed on the cover and you quickly open them and browse through the pages, your heart sinks, “I also found money transactions between your family and the Galkin family, about… I’m sorry but I can’t —“

“How much, Ajax?” You feel stiff and your hands start shaking making it hard for you to continue flipping through the countless reports, photographs, records, bank transactions, and letters, your blood feels terribly cold as you try to calm down the whirlwind of feelings that coursed through your body, but you couldn’t bring yourself to calm down, not when your family, your parents of all people, have seemed to been able to calmly put a price on not only your love but your person as well.

“About 900,000 Mora,” he mutters, cold blue eyes avoiding your gaze as he continues, “to Uncle and Auntie from Andrei’s family.”

“900,000 Mora…” You feel your heart shatter as Childe brings a comforting hand towards your shoulders, his calloused fingers massaging your tense muscles, “You’re… you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I’d never lie about such a thing,” he approaches you slowly, Ajax continues speaking as he envelops you with a hug soon after removing the papers from your trembling hands,“this pains me as much as it pains you.”

All of this was true, it’d taken him a long time to gather it all, but the reality was simple and cruel;

your parents had begun arranging for your marriage to an older Fatui soldier for after his retirement.

“Why… why would they do this?” You mutter, feeling sorrow slowly fill your lungs up - making it harder to breathe comfortably, “H-how could they? How could they? Why… Ajax, w-why?”

You felt like an idiot, just minutes ago you’d naively thought you may be getting proposed to by your childhood lover, a childish and hopelessly romantic thought, but now you’re sitting in your living room, on the verge of a breakdown as you tried to think of why on earth your parents would be willing to accept such an offer on your behalf, why they’d use you - their daughter - for Mora.

“Shhh, it’s okay, let it out,” he brings your head into his shoulder, caressing your back in a soothing manner, “it must feel horrible, I’m sure.”

And so you sit there, sobbing into your old friend as you try and process the information presented in front of you. It takes you a good couple of minutes to calm down, by then you two have once again sat down on the couch.

“What am I going to do?” You bury your face into your hands, your body shook as you thought about having to confront your parents once they arrived now with the knowledge you had.

It takes Ajax a couple of seconds before he speaks up, he needed to make it seem like he hadn’t been thinking of this from the moment he’d gotten his hands on the evidence himself; “I have an idea but...”

Your head shoots up in record speed, you could practically feel your neck crack from the sudden move but you didn’t care, you were desperate for a solution - no matter how good or bad it may be; “Oh come on, just spit it out, nothing could be worse than this.”

“Marry me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches; “M-Marry you?”

He nods, sapphire eyes staring you down like a hunter would prey - you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

“Why?”

“Why?” He echos, you can see him stifle a laugh, “Because it’s either that or marrying some lowlife named Andrei who paid to wed you.”

You feel your body stiffen at the harsh words, they were true but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear. You avoid looking him in the eyes, your hands anxiously twiddle each other.

“… and what if you’re wrong?”

“What?” He asks as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said.

“What if my parents aren’t marrying me off…”

“Darling,” Ajax laughs but his eyes didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, “are you doubting me? I gave you evidence, it’s right there.”

“Not necessarily,” you look away, you couldn’t help but wonder why you needed to explain yourself, “but, come on, I can’t accept this, it’s too sudden and mom and dad, t-they’d never do this to me, right? I’m their daughter, you know? They love me, they said they did and you don’t do this if you love someone, right?. So… so w-what if you’re wrong?”

“Wrong? There’s no other interpretation that makes sense of what we’ve both seen. Why would I lie to you about this? Come on, love, look at me, do I look like I’m enjoying this?” He questions you, “Look at me, come on, listen to me, if it were up to me,” he grabs your chin when you refuse to meet his gaze, his dark blue eyes stare deeply into your soul; they don’t shine the way the once used to, “I would have asked them for their blessing and proposed to you in the plaza, I would have had a ring ordered from Liyue costume made for you, I’d organize for their to be flowers of every color imaginable, even arrange food and music too, there would be hundreds onlookers who’d die to experience a fraction of the joy we would be feeling, I would have invited my family and yours, I’d have you wearing a custom dress, you’d be the happiest woman in Teyvat if I’d have my way… but look where we are instead, can’t you see? This isn’t what I wanted for us, this isn’t what I wanted for you, but we still have time, we can still fix it. But before that first, you have to believe me and get it through your head; this is who they are, this is what they’ve done, your parents don’t love you any more.”

“…” You can only look at him in shock as you feel tears swell in your eyes because it was not far fetched to say that the last few months your family had been distant, that they’d begun to act strange, and that you’d been short on cash for Tsaritsa knows how long, it hurt because a part of you felt like this was plausible. Because it was true, you were the youngest and that you didn’t exactly pull your weight the same way your siblings did, it was true you’d been more of a casualty in your family’s life but that didn’t mean they’d sell you off. No, they had treated you with love and kindness, they’d been there for every big step in your life, they loved you… right? They’d never do this to you, they would never accept Mora in exchange for your hand in marriage. They would never trade their love for you for some Money… right?

Maybe their love was ensuring you had a better future, one where your lover took care of you even if you didn’t exactly choose them, it was true your love life had been awfully stale, that the only person you’d ever been interested in who had also liked you back was in the army, and that you were never quite able to secure a full time job, it was always part-time and you were always booked the least compared to your coworkers. It was true you didn’t have many friends, most of the people your age had moved away by now, you were the only one of your siblings who wasn’t married or dating someone, out of all of your siblings you were the only one who seemed to remain the same no matter how many years passed. Maybe it was exactly what this was, a misunderstood, misplaced, and ill-fitting way of showing their love; but maybe you hated the thought this was their way of expressing it more than you were moved they’d tried at all.

“Shhh, my love,” you didn’t quite catch when Ajax had started wiping your tears away nor when he had managed to get so close, but at that moment – the moment where your whole life felt so uncertain and shaken – you were willing to ignore it all, “it’s okay, I know what you’re thinking… My offer still stands, you can still marry me.”

“And then what?” You sobbed, holding his gloved hands tightly against your cheek, “What am I going to do after that?”

“You’ll move in with me,” he responds matter of factly yet his tone is still soft, as if he feared speaking too loudly would scare you away, “and we’ll tell them together and you’ll make your bags and we’ll be on our way away from all of this mess. Please listen to me, sweetheart, as of right now, I’m the only choice for you – it won’t be bad at all, it’ll be lovely in fact, don’t you want that?”

“…”

“Please, please trust me, I only want what’s best for you,” he continues, ignoring your silence and instead continuing to caress your skin, “I’ve worked with Andrei, he’s no good, he’s older and cranky, he’s always in a bad mood, he won’t satisfy you, and I don’t want you to be miserable, I mean look at you, is this what you want? Hear me out and put trust in me, you won’t regret it; I’ll get you out of this, I promise.”

“But…”

“I love you and I know you love me,” he whispered, drawing closer to you, his voice low as he slowly leans into your lips, he stops right before they can touch his own, “and I’m sure you’ll grow to love this too.”

There’s a silence as you let your options cross your head, you feel yourself grow overwhelmed, being struck with grief and regret in such strong waves you have no choice but to simply give in to the only secure stone you currently see in the storm that was brewing in your mind.

He loved you, he said so himself, and he’d protect you, he’d promised. You could trust him, you had to trust him; you had no one else.

“I’ll… I’ll marry you.”

“That’s my girl.” He boasts, his face – which is now close enough for you to smell the mint in his breath – breaks into a smile before he’s leaning into your face to kiss you; You reciprocate the action and close your eyes, secretly hoping that today was but a nightmare.

You feel his gloved hands wander around your body, the leather-like material is smooth as his skilled digits play around. There’s barely any time to breathe as he continues kissing you until you grow dizzy from the lack of oxygen entering your lungs.

You had always liked Ajax, always dreamed of marrying him, but as your dreams were coming true you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the circumstances that brought it up.

“Darling,” he moans, as he finally parts himself from your abused lips, “you’re not kissing back, don’t tell me you –“

“Ajax,” you interrupt, your voice barely above a whisper as you desperately try to dive into his eyes, seeking an answer, “why are you doing this?”

The question spoke for itself, no further clarification was needed; why had he come? Why had he revealed your parents’ plans? Was it even as awful as he made it seem? Why did he care? Why now? Did he really want to marry you or did he just feel responsible for you? Why did he bring himself into this mess? Why you, why him, why, why, why, why? Simply; why?

A part of you couldn’t quite believe what you’d heard, you still struggled to grasp the idea that your parents would even think of giving your hand away for Mora, and yet the intensity in his voice, the anger in his tone as he relayed the information he’d gathered could have convinced anyone, you doubted he’d lie about something as severe. If this was the truth, it’d been revealed to you too quickly, you’d been expected to get over it too soon, one moment you find out your parents were getting rid of you and your trust in the most materialistic of ways and the next you’ve been proposed to by a man you hadn’t seen in person for over half a decade. You can’t help but wonder if you said yes because you loved him or because you were desperate, for what - you didn’t know.

“Because I love you,” he speaks, his dull eyes finding yours and you wonder if they’d always lacked light, “I love you… and I’m not letting anyone get in my- our way.”

In his head, this was the only way to have you, this was the only way to love you, he was going to save you.

He doesn’t stop to wait for your response before he’s picked you up with ease, years of training and hard work evident by how nonchalantly he walks around your house and goes up the stairs, ignoring all the other rooms and picking up the pace the closer you got to the destination; you were going to your bedroom, you realize, the one you’d been occupying since you were a child. You never thought your house to be small but the speed in which he was walking made you aware of how short the distance between your bedroom and living room was.

“Ajax, what are you doing?” You whimper, you hold on tightly to the ginger, you’re so close you can smell his cologne, afraid he’d let you do if you let up even for a second.

“I’ll show you,” he continued down the hall, there’s an edge to his voice that gives you a chill, he sounded almost angry but with whom you did not know, “I’ll show you why I’m doing this.”

You two finally make your way to your bedroom where he kicks the door open and plops you, quite unceremoniously, down onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes and wiggles his heavy coat off before climbing the bed with you, he tugs you around until you’re below him.

“You’re doing all of this too fast, calm down,” you argue, pain and sorrow still evident in your voice and it hurts his soul to hear it, “you don’t have to prove me anything, I…”

“Everything I’ve said is true, love,” the red-head insists, “and I’m doing this equally for me as I’m doing it for you.”

You don’t respond, instead you opt to look away; his gaze was becoming too intense and it was making you feel funny in ways you hadn’t felt before.

“Look at me,” his hands find your jaw and he redirects your gaze forcefully, “you’ve already said yes, unless… don’t tell me you,” his eyes darken as they narrowed, an almost animalistic look took over his features, “you lied and you don’t want to marry me.”

“I… I do, I’ve always wanted to, but,” It’s embarrassing to admit but you do so anyway in fear of creating a misunderstanding between the two of you, everything was going so fast you were struggling to keep up, “but… is this really how you want to do it?”

You were certain you could take things slower, maybe wait for your parents to come home and talk to them, you didn’t understand why he was in such a hurry, was this healthy? Was this okay?

“Yes,” it seems like he can sense your hesitation so he continues, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His words held so much certainty you almost feel stupid for even questioning him, he drew near your lips once more before engulfing your mouth in a kiss, this time with much more vigor than before.

His teeth nip at your lips, begging for entry and you shyly grant it, slowly parting your mouth open. It’s all so messy as you feel his tongue enter your mouth, the muscle seemingly had a life of its own as it mapped your mouth, teeth clashed against each other as if he were desperate to dominate you.

His hands find your waist and insists on pushing you further into the bed, molding your body into the mattress, as he rubs your sides with slow, sensual movements that light your body ablaze. The contrast between the continuous attacks on your lips and the soft stroking of your body left you dizzy, he handled you as if you were made of porcelain and yet ravaged you like a beast when granted access.

You unknowingly whine as your lips finally part, taking a deep breath of air in the process, a thin strip of saliva connected you both, a lewd indicator of the passion Ajax wished to imprint on you. You’re both panting, clearly riled up from the heated kiss, but the man on top of you insisted on letting his hands work their way through you. Your eyes trail downwards where his gloved digits traced the shape of your body, the way they glide across your curves and dips was hypnotizing, and you miss the way a smirk overtakes his features as he realizes how tightly he’s got you wrapped around those very same fingers.

You feel his breath before you hear his words; “Can I take this off?”

His voice is barely above a whisper yet his question rings around the room like a scream, you feel yourself grow hot under your clothes; the same ones he’d just asked to remove off of you.

You’re too embarrassed to answer him, still slightly hesitant to continue going, you can feel your cheeks heat up into a burning mess and you’re scared that if you speak you’ll make a fool of yourself, so instead you nod slowly, trying to calm your racing mind, moving your eyes elsewhere in hopes you wouldn’t have to see the smug look his face was sure to take.

However, he’s quick to catch your face and redirect your gaze back to himself; “Thank you.”

You let him pick you from the bed to fiddle with the claps on the back of your dress, his fingers are swift in figuring out how to free you from your outer layers, it’s almost amazing how quickly he’s able to take your clothes off until you’re clad in your modest undergarments.

Due to Snezhnaya’s unforgiving winters you often layered multiple articles of clothing and prioritized warmth over aesthetics, the thought your underwear might be underwhelming doesn’t cross your mind until you’re left with your thigh-length woolen socks and plain bra and panties. You wonder if maybe the sight would be disappointing for a man as well traveled as Childe, he’s probably seen much more appealing bodies and clothes during his travels, but that idea goes as quickly as it comes when you finally see his reaction to your partially bare body.

Even though he still wore multiple layers, you could see the way his chest had begun to fall and rise unsteadily, his cheeks have taken a feverish glow, and his breath has become noticeably ragged, the hands that held the clothes he’d recently taken off your body were clearly shaking, his fists tightened their grip on the soft fabrics of your garments until they wrinkled. His eyes never left you, even as they traveled through your body, mapping out every nook and cranny he so desperately wanted to mark and savor, he didn’t dare let his gaze wander as if afraid the minute he did you’d disappear and he’d wake up in his office, cold and alone.

“Hah…” Ajax lets out a soft moan as he takes in the sight in front of him, he feels weak and bothered as he watched your breasts rise and fall as you breathed, he lets his eyes go downwards until he’s face to face with your covered pussy and he feels his underwear slowly moisten as he catches sight of a small wet patch that had formed in your panties.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You mumble into your arms, your body instinctively tries to hide itself but your friend doesn't allow it. The minute he feels your legs try to bundle together he slots himself in between them and throws your clothes away so he can fully grasp and force them apart.

There’s silence as you both stare at each other, waiting for one of you to make the first move and fully pass the point of no return.

Surprisingly, this time it’s you who grows impatient and drags the ginger down to meet your hungry lips.

Maybe it’s because right now, Ajax felt like the only person who cared about you and you felt desperate to feel comforted, you felt betrayed and hurt and you craved to be reminded you were loved. It wasn’t healthy and a part of you felt guilty, like you were using him for momentary comfort, as if you’d forced him to come and offer his hand in marriage, if you were smarter and stronger maybe you would’ve realized what was going on and could have stopped it. But he’d said he loved you, right? You loved him, you knew you did and he’d gone and declared his love for you first, even when you were kids he was always dedicated to reminding you of his adoration, but your parents said that too and where did that lead to? He wasn’t doing this out of feeling obligated to care for you, was he?

Maybe this was a mistake, you probably should not be initiating sex with a man you haven’t seen in person in years after he came to tell you your parent had sold you off to marry some rich old, gross soldier, you instead should have sat down and talked for longer, tried figuring out what was going on and perhaps find a solution that didn’t include you marrying your childhood sweetheart, not out of love but out of fear of being forced into an arranged marriage with a stranger. But the fact of the matter is that you didn’t do that, you let yourself be dragged along by his passion and desperation, you now laid in bed making out with Ajax as you desperately tried to push the thoughts of self-doubt and disgust away.

You try to focus on the present without thinking of the past nor the future; The almost one million Mora your parents had pocketed didn’t mean anything, there was no Andrei Galkin, Ajax had never left you, the Fatui didn’t exist, there hadn’t been any betrayal or hurt feelings, you were safe and you were free, there was nothing. In this room, at least for this moment, all that existed was you and Tartaglia.

His shirt is a barrier between your greedy hands and his naked body that’s becoming increasingly annoying as you parted your lips to grant him access to your all of mouth, which he gladly accepts as your tongues caress each other in a sloppy manner, you feel your teeth sometimes clash with his own but you’re too focused on tugging at his clothes, trying to get them off with the least amount of space between you both to care. They could rip, you didn’t care, you wanted to feel his body and warmth, you needed to feel alive.

Your body is starting to feel tingly, your nipples feel hard against your bra and your lower region becomes needy. You want him to touch you more but his hands are busy fiddling with your hips and waist, alternating between the two spots as he caresses and pinches your skin.

You both seem hesitant to let each other go even if it’s for something as necessary as catching your breaths, but even if things seemed to have slowed down it didn’t mean something isn't happening.

“Ajax,” your voice is soft and breathless, you feel your lungs beg you to not speak, “take ‘em off, wanna touch you…”

You gesture at his clothes, slowly running a finger around his chest and stopping at - where you guessed - his nipple was and pressing down hard.

A deep grunt of approval escaped the man’s lips at the feeling and it took him a second to nod, busy trying not to focus too much on the way he felt his cock throbbing, and back off to make way for him to take his clothes off. Childe refuses to completely climb off you, instead leaning backwards to unbutton his shirt and click off the harness he wore, his coat falling behind is his figure, and his shoes long since thrown elsewhere, his pink nipples are clearly sensitive as his eyes shut off tightly as his clothes graze them, his whole body felt on fire - as if your mere presence were an aphrodisiac to the man. Next is his pants and socks and he does his very best to be as quick as humanly possible, they’re all off in record speed and he’s soon only wearing his underwear.

The minute he’s done, he’s thrown himself back onto you as if trying to make up for the few seconds he’d parted from you.

You’re flustered as you finally feel his skin freely come in contact with yours, as if the situation slowly began sinking in just then. Not to mention, you’d caught sight of his raging boner through the thin layer of fabric that constituted his undergarments. It looked big and thick and you wondered, if you even reached that point, if it was even possible to feel good from such a thing pounding on your hole, it looked like it’d hurt more than anything. But a greedy part of you was desperate to find out how it’d feel to have all of him inside of you, to have his fat tip caressing the deepest corners of your body, painting your gummy insides white.

This time, you both skip the kissing and go straight to touching each other, this time more shamelessly and with less hesitance. Your hands find his neck and you pull his head into the crook of your neck where he dedicates his time to litter kisses across the area, you let your hands wander across his shoulders and neck, softly scratching the skin under your nails whenever he kisses a particularly sensitive spot. On the other hand, Ajax let his hands travel across your chest and cup your breasts, he molds the flesh like a stress ball, tightening his grip and pulling at them like they were toys. The feeling of your bra coming into contact with your hardening nipples makes you whimper and moan while your body contorts in an attempt to meld deeper with the man on top of you.

Your movements are restricted and awkward as you were currently caged between the bed and him, but you do your best to communicate your growing neediness.

“A-Ajax, mhmm~!” You gasp, his teeth gnaw at a spot in your neck that has a shot of neediness reaching your privates in electrifying waves, “… more, I wan’ more…”

You can feel his lips curve into a smirk as he hears the desperation in your voice but he’s not better at concealing the very obvious way your words affected him; “My dove wants more? Hah—haha, a-aren’t you such a cute ‘nd needy little thing.”

You huff slightly at his teasing words but you can’t deny that the way he addressed you as “his” made you grow increasingly horny. He seems to hear your soft complaint and finally parts with your neck, which was now littered with hickies and love bites, to allow himself to gaze deeply into your eyes.

You could never deny that Ajax’s eyes were the prettiest shade of blue you’d ever seen, they resemble sapphires and noctilucous jade but with less shine. When you both were younger you’d spend hours gazing upon them, admiring the intensity they held. Now, however, you can’t say you aren’t slightly intimidated as he gazes at you like a predator. His hands leave your body and you’re immediately missing the warmth they provided you, in fact, you’re about to complain and ask him to touch you again when he suddenly cups your clothed pussy with his hand.

His hand is large, his fingers are long and the palm is in no way small, which meant most - if not all - of your cunt was now being held in one of his hands. His thumb is hovering over your clit and you gasp as you feel him tighten his hold and trace his fingers across your slit and up to your sensitive nub.

You squirm, letting your bottom grind against his hands, slowly building up your pleasure until you’re letting out soft moans and whines. Tartaglia decides to aid you as he himself works towards getting his member hard and oozing with release by moving his hand across your pussy and grinding on your thighs simultaneously. Your mind grows hot and dazed as you sense your pussy begin to drool, you could feel the way your juices leaked, the wet trail they’d leave and traveled across your your entrance, down your slit and across your thighs, soaking your underwear with release; you wondered if Ajax could feel your excitement too.

You could certainly feel him. His cock had long since been hard and leaking precum, you could make out through hazy eyes and desperate movements a wet patch on his boxers. It looked so big constrained against the fabric, you wanted to free his cock and feel it inside your hole, any of them, his balls seemed to hold unceremonious amounts of cum as the wetness kept growing more and more visible to you, you wondered if he’d be willing to come inside of you if you asked.

You both work together, trying to make the other as aroused as possible until someone snapped and began demanding the intercourse you both clearly wanted.

You don’t want to give in, not yet, but he’s begun to tease your slit with his fingertips and you’re growing aggravated from the empty feeling in your cunt. You feel yourself clenching onto nothing, your walls closing desperately trying to find anything to grip onto, you are growing desperate to feel something inside, be it his fingers, his tongue or his cock — you wanted him inside of you, now.

“Ha… hah~” You can feel his tongue hanging from his open mouth, drool escapes his parted lips and coats your breasts, you’re surprised he’s managed to keep himself up for so long, all the training he’d endured paying off and allowing him to mount your thighs and grind his length against your skin, his expression is one of extreme arousal that makes you tense and grow lust-drunk, “T-Tell me… d’ya wanna feel my cock in your pussy yet, darling?”

“…! M—mhk?!” You let out a high pitched whine as a particular stroke of his hands delves momentarily into your clothed hole, you can feel your cum slowly dirty your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, his movements growing erratic, his ginger hair seems darker and less vibrant against his reddened face, “your… your pussy is beggin’ for me!”

“Please…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your body still rocks alongside his own as he uses your body to get off and bring you close to a mind-numbing release, your voice wavers as your whole being is shocked from the pleasure Ajax’s hand toying with your clothed cunt brings, your legs twitch and your body keeps contorting and folding.

“Hmm, please what? I need you to tell me,” he mumbles, his voice takes a deep, desperate and animalistic tone as he continues, he takes his fingers and starts to circle your clit with an unimaginable force, “What do you want, huh? If you want me to fuck y-you, you’ll need to use your big girl words. Say; “I want my husband’s cock inside of me”, come on, ask for y-your husband’s cock…!”

“A~Ajax…! Please-uh…” Your body begins to hurt, your very own genitals seem to be burning in fire as you desperately try to soothe the ache in your womb and clit. You begin to rut against his hands at an embarrassing, almost objectifying, pace, absolutely desperate to cum and lift the cloud of lust that seemed to haunt you from the moment Ajax laid your body on your mattress.

“That’s not who I am,” he mumbles into your skin, his teeth beginning to bite and mark the flesh of your breast, “I’m y-your husband now, right? So, ask for it properly… hah~ won’t you?”

“… want my h-husband’s cock, I… inside of me, please,” you whine between heavy breaths, “I… want to fuck my—hah… h-husband…”

The moan that leaves his lips is loud and primal, his whole body shudders as he hears your plea. He didn’t think he could get any harder and yet hearing your shaky voice ask for him sends a rush of blood through his body and straight to his dick.

“Ahaha… that’s right, isn’t it? I-I’m your husband now,” an unsettling grin starts to form on his face, one that, if you weren’t so desperate and vulnerable, would probably have sent a shiver down your spine; it was an expression that resembled his face after ending a powerful opponent, one that meant victory was his, that he’d won, it was the face many people would see before departing the realm of the living, one of pure, unhinged bliss that could only be understood by a man such as himself, “I’m your husband, your husband… a-ah! Ha-ah, that means… hah, that means it’s my duty to fuck you, to make you feel good, a good husband makes love to his spouse, right? S-so as your husband, I get to be inside of you… a-and make you cum lots. Yeah, I… I’m going to be the best husband, you’ll feel good too… So be a good wife and take all of my love, ‘kay?”

During his incoherent rambling, which you barely could understand, he works to rid you of your underwear with desperate movements. His hands pull at the fabric with enough force that they tear, allowing him to rip the fabric off your hips and discard it on the floor. The cool air in your room hits your lower end and makes you shiver, your body had been previously engulfed by Childe’s warmth, the feeling of his own heating body and rapid blood circulation had sheltered you from the freezing temperature outside of the sinful haven between your bodies. The difference in temperature and its effect on you seems to have been noticed by your partner, who looks around the room trying to find a solution.

You want to hurry him up, tell him you didn’t mind the cold, that you just wanted to feel him inside you for the first time, but before you know it he’s pulling something from behind; his white coat soon is back on his shoulders, lazily throw on, barely holding up as he quickly pulls his underwear off. He’s quick and precise, never wasting a moment as he adjusts himself on top of you once more, this time with his bare cock leaking on your stomach.

“I’ll heat you up… inside and out, hah…” He mumbles, adjusting the coat so it covers both of you, the long, heavy material immediately worked wonders as your body regained its warmth.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, you’re both trembling as he slowly lowers his pelvis to meet your own. You were right, he was big and he was long and thick, but he made sure to go slowly as he inserted two fingers to stretch you out in preparation.

Your slick facilitates the intrusion, there’s not much pain as he opens and closes his fingers, curling and extending them, as if trying to gauge how far you could stretch. His cheeks are a bright red, sweat runs through his forehead as he feels your body accommodate the feeling of his fingers. Ajax was big, always taller than most in your village, and his time in the Fatui had definitely contributed to his size – his shoulders were broad, his chest chiseled, and his fingers, the ones that slowly danced inside your pussy, were long and calloused. This was your first time feeling something other than your own hands and Ajax was making sure to show you all the places you could have never reached on your own.

You don’t even realize you’d begun panting, soft whines and moans had been leaving your lips forma while now, noises that only served to encourage Ajax further. But he had to stop, he needed you both to cum together as one. Your first time together had to be romantic like that, both of you climaxing together and coming undone at the same time.

There’s a feeling of emptiness and disappointment that follows the feeling of his fingers leaving your body, you’re about to complain when you see him bring his fingers to his lips to lap at the slick that had stuck to them. You’re mesmerized at the lewd image, gazing hopelessly at the way his face melted into one of pure pleasure as he tasted you. He makes sure to lick his fingers clean, his tongue lapping at the cum.

You catch his eyes and they soften, a lovestruck look taking over his features, you nod and open your legs wider than before; encouraging him to finally fuck you. He positions himself outside of your opening, making sure you grasp your legs and pull them as wide apart as he physically could without hurting you.

Even with the previous preparation, your breath is knocked out of your lungs as his tip slowly makes its way through your slit, past the muscles and finally inside your gummy walls.

He uses his arms to adjust his body, making sure to be as careful as possible as to not hurt you. This was your first time making love to each other, and he’d be damned if he were the one to cause you pain.

He gives you a second before pushing the rest in, he’s still slow, attempting to coax your body into adjusting to the feeling of being so full. His blue eyes are closed, his breath is heavy and you can feel the bed shake as he tries to control himself, you’re not faring much better, your head felt light as all your body could seemingly concentrate on was the feeling between your legs, your body was heating up and you could feel the warmth radiate off your skin.

You know he’s fully sheathed himself when you feel the soft “thud” of his balls hitting your ass, you’ve become hyper aware of the proximity and situation you’re in as his cock begins to throb inside of your pussy, his head comes to rest on the crook of your neck as you both adjust to the feeling of each other's body.

A moment passes, your walls that had previously been gripping Ajax like a lifeline slowly weaken, finally allowing both of you to relax and begin to experiment.

“I-I’ll start…” He mumbles, avoiding your gaze as if feeling shy, he begins to move around as if to grip the bed’s headboard, all while still inside you, his arms allowing him to cover your body from the world.

As you look up, you realize how he’s become all you see, his imposing frame and coat acting as a curtain blocking the outside from entering your view. Your heart feels heavy but you try and pay it no mind.

The movements are slow and clumsy at first, his cock never truly leaves your warmth fully, his tip always kept inside of your cunt - one way or another. The feeling is strange, you’re not used to the way his length would gaze at your walls or the feeling of the veins on his dick caressing spots inside of you that made you gasp and curl your toes. It’s new and it takes some adjusting before you begin to rock your own hips to meet his, suddenly it begins to feel good, really good in fact. There was something about the stretch, maybe it was the feeling of being so full, the way his cock curved and hit spongy spots in your pussy becomes addicting, or maybe it was the fat vein that decorated the underside of his cock, but it wasn’t long until you’re trying to entice a faster, tougher pace.

He takes his time teasing and easing you into the rhythm of sex, he wouldn’t tell you, but a part of him was scared that if he picked up his pace he wouldn’t be able to stop until you were leaking his cum - not to mention, he wasn’t sure he’d last long if he started to fuck you even faster. The feeling of your walls gripping him was divine, there are moments his thrusts grow unsteady and out of sync, as if his body was trying to take control and allow itself to set the animalistic pace he so desperately wanted, it’s these exact moments where his patience is tested, where he wants nothing more than to pick up your body and use it as a toy to fill with his semen.

“I wan’ more,'' you moan and he freezes as he feels your hips pathetically lift up to meet his heated thrust, your lower region coming up and rolling, rocking, and sloppily caressing his own pelvis in an attempt to suck him deeper into your sex, this was the first time you’d ever experienced such fullness and pleasure, your mind was numb and you’d forgotten all about previous sorrows, you truly wanted to feel more and more until all you could think of was Ajax’s cock and feeling good, “… wan’na feel my… my husband’s c-cock…?!”

At the title, the ginger truly can’t help the way his hips basically crash into yours, it was purely instinctual – just the sound of your calling him yours and acknowledging him as your husband, even if you’d only gotten engaged less than an hour ago, was enough to drive him mad with lust. He feels his head grow dizzy as thoughts of breeding you and claiming you as his take over. It’s as if a switch is turned on because from that moment onwards the atmosphere changed completely.

His previously considerate and soft strokes become harsh and rapid, you can feel your bed move rhythmically with his thrusts, your whole body jolts as he begins to fuck you with the sole goal of filling you so deeply your body was to be conditioned to respond lewdly to his mere presence. They’re deeper too as he now focused on feeling and claiming as much of your hole as possible, it’s impossible not to feel the way his cock imprinted itself deeply inside your body.

Your hands are desperate to grasp onto something, so you clutch at the sheets under you as tightly as possible, your body feels hot and heavy; your legs twitch and you're left gasping as Childe grabs your hips to adjust your position. You’re still lying down but your back arches itself to allow him easy access to your bottom, it’s surprising how easily he’s able to manhandle your body while never quite pulling out, always making sure to insert himself as quickly as he exited, never truly pulling out all of his dick.

The new position allows for him to hurry his pace, you’re soon moving like a rag doll with no control over your limbs. You’re left a moaning, whining mess as your brain struggles to process the waves of pleasure that bloomed from deep inside your pussy.

You feel your heart beating and you can almost hear the sound of your slick pouring out and lubricating your walls, making it increasingly easy to continue the Fatui’s pounding of your cunt. You’re not too sure if you’re even able to talk, the thought of forming a coherent sentence felt farfetched, all that leaves your lips are whines, sounds of pure pleasure and bliss that sound like an orchestra to Ajax.

He’s not doing much better, his vocabulary seems to have been reduced to declarations of ownership over you, boundless love, and immense pleasure. Your name soon becomes the only coherent sound leaving his lips as he lets his head fall back, his body almost working on autopilot as he allows his hips to ram inside you while his hands focus on teasing your nipples and forcing you to face his reddening face. His chest shines with sweat as he makes sure to fill the room with the sound of your skin meeting him and the growing wet mess between your merging bodies.

You’re both soon leaking arousal, Ajax’s cock starts to slowly redden and grow inside of you as he approaches orgasm, drops of precum start to form on the tip, and your torso starts to heat up as it feels heavier the better you feel; your cum is soon coating his dick white, a clear indicator he’d been inside your drooling cunt. You let go of the sheets and bring a hand to your clit, desperate to bring yourself closer to release.

“Ah-! Just like that,” Ajax exclaims, lurching forward as he feels your walls tighten around his cock, “tighten around me like that, fu–uck! I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in your pussy, gonna shoot my cum inside you… Haha–hah! You’re… you’re gonna be full with my cum, are you ready?”

You nod mindlessly, too busy playing with your clit and pressing kisses into Ajax’s skin. The feeling of being filled by your childhood sweetheart was intoxicating, it left you an overstimulated mess, moaning and whining as you gripped the man’s shoulders to bring him closer to you.

You couldn’t tell who came first, only that your final push was the feeling of Childe’s lips on yours. Maybe it’s the desperation you felt radiating off him as his tongue caressed your own, the way his hands tighten around your body as he begins unloading his cum begins seeping into your pussy and deep inside your body. You’re a shaking mess as you continue riding your orgasm on his dick, prolonging the pleasurable feeling by rocking your hips into his in an almost shy manner, it’s addicting and you’re left gasping and moaning for more. On the other hand, Ajax was trembling on top of you, his arms seemingly giving out as he collapsed into your body, allowing his head to rest beside your own on your pillows while his cock throbbed and painted your insides with his cum. He gives a few weak thrusts, as if making sure that his balls have been thoroughly emptied, before he looks over at your panting face.

You’re trying to catch your breath, desperately trying to calm your heart down into a stable rhythm, while your body twitches in a post-orgasm afterglow. You’re sweating, your eyes shut tight as you feel your pussy swell around Ajax’s dick, which was very much still inside you, and grow sensitive. Even in this state, where you’re too shaken to do anything other than breathe and try to relax your body, he thinks he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

His hand, which trembled ever so slightly, travels to find yours and intertwine your fingers together. He subconsciously traces your ring-finger, trying to estimate your size, you’d accepted his proposal, going as far as acknowledging him as your husband, it was now his responsibility to find a suitable ring for you, one worthy of resting on your fingers.

He smiles, cuddling deep into your bare skin, pressing his softening cock deeper into you, which earns him a soft whine from you, essentially plugging his semen inside your pussy.

“… I love you, Ajax.” You mumble, eyes still closed shut, your voice drowsy and far away as exhaustion slowly catches up to you. Today had been hard on you, physically and mentally, you’d learnt more than you’d wished to have known, your relationship with those around you now forever changed; you’d agreed to marry your childhood friend in response to your parents’ betrayal, you’d given up your virginity to him and now laid in bed, struggling to know if you’d made the right decisions. An inner turmoil was growing inside you, a storm of emotions you were not ready to deal with, but right now, as you lay beneath the man who’d promised to save you, you decide to rest and let him take care of it, for now. Your breathing slows down, your body finally succumbing to sleep.

You’re too tired to hear the sound of the front door unlocking, your mother’s voice booming across the house as she calls out for you as she ushers your father and guests inside your family house. Ajax makes no move to leave your bed or even remove himself from inside of you, not even as he recognizes the distinct sound of footsteps that belonged to your parents moving around downstairs, grinnin softly as he hears your mother call out for you again, while your father talked to someone and merrily laughed, joking around, easing the tension of the first meeting between two people set up in an arranged marriage – where only one of them knew.

He can hear your parents talking, making an excuse at where you were, he can hear your mother climb up the stairs, he can hear her getting closer to your room.

What a lousy move, he thought to himself, to ambush you one day and try to dump the news on top of you like this, you didn’t even seem aware of guests coming over to your home at all, he frowned; he had expected more of uncle and auntie. Alas, he’d long since given up on them, he just hopes your mother doesn’t scream too loudly when she sees you two in bed together.

He’d hate for you to wake up to such an awful shriek.

There’s a knock on your door, Ajax smiles but makes no move to answer, and then another as your mother calls out your name. She sighs before threatening to open the door, Ajax has to stifle a giggle, pressing his lips into your shoulder to not let out any noise, too afraid to ruin the surprise for his soon to be mother-in-law, she hears no response, she clearly feels agitated and annoyed, he can hear it the way she knocks once more with a stern calling of your name.

There’s a second of silence before the door is swung open.

Ajax looks over to your mother, his coat covering both your naked forms enough that a semblance of modesty is kept but not enough that what happened between the two of you was misunderstood, it would be clear to anyone who could walk in, and he smiles, leaning his body into your own, further embracing you and pushing your sleeping face into his chest, he rolls over as a playful wave is sent her way, she stands frozen in place. Your bottom halves are still covered by the oversized coat, but the bruises and bites that litter your bodies are enough to paint a picture, his hand moves to caress your body, a smug smile takes over his features as he watches your mother try to come up with the right words to say.

“Hello, ma’am,” his tone is playful but the look on his face is one of pure venom, she looks beyond flustered but isn’t able to say a word; too shaken by the sight, the combination of her daughter and a man in bed together and the Harbinger’s insignia that seemed to shine with even the smallest movements from the ginger was enough to send her stumbling back, “it’s been a while, we have a lot to catch up on, huh?”

[zaephix]

the little things / / xavier , zayne , & rafayel . . .

slight spoilers for their myth stories

the reason as to why XAVIER takes great care of his hair was unknown to you. why he laid his head down in your lap even after being glued to your side the whole day. the reason was simple, so that you could keep running your fingers through it. he'd gently guide your hands over to the top of his head, a soft chuckle as you kiss the button of his nose. to him, you were the core of his being, his star.

XAVIER can't stop the pleasant smile gracing his face as you revel in another victory, his eyes never leaving your form. in the same way that you ponder about what to eat for lunch, he wonders if anyone ever wished upon the stars that danced in your eyes. and as you both ready yourself for sleep, he'd found his answer. if no one else did, he'd glady be the first to do so. just ignore how his already slow heartbeat begins to slow even more against your back, how his mind travels back to that fateful night underneath the glistening cosmos. "i'll be by your side, always."

before heading to work, ZAYNE can never seem to leave your side. he'd be caught up in your soft snores, the way your chest slowly rises and falls, and your lips. he can't stop himself as he leans down to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, all the while making sure you're wrapped snugly in your blanket, your pillow fluffed from beneath you.

ZAYNE is the type of lover to text you as soon as he's on his break, asking to make sure you ate the breakfast he left for you in the kitchen, or that you remembered your wallet on the coffee table. you always tell him that he worries too much, that he should be focusing on himself, but how could he? not when his priority is your well-being, your state of self. just ignore how his breath seems to get shaky, the frost crawling up his skin and into his veins every time he's near you, sharp pains coursing through his muscle. "i won't forget you... not this time."

when it comes to showering you with affection, RAFAYEL seems to take the cake. kissing your knuckles every time he greets you, strategically pulling you away from work to cuddle with you, he knows just how and what to do at the right times. however, what he fails to notice is how he unconsciously looks for you the first thing he steps into a room, how his shoulders relax after realizing you're safe after you've texted him a little later than usual, how his hands linger a little too long in yours.

RAFAYEL has already come to the realization that he's head over heels for you long ago, just not fully realizing how bad it was. all within a second you were his bodyguard, his fishie, but most of all, his muse. he'd make the world his canvas - your eyes the rhythm hidden beneath the layers of paint. just ignore how he sometimes gets quiet when around you, his mind swirling like a paint brush dipped into watercolor. "fish are emissaries of the god of the sea, this... is my vow to you."

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞…

(or, in other words, promises of their dedication to you.)

✦ featuring: childe, kaeya, xiao, zhongli, kazuha.

✦ warnings: none, just the smallest smidgens of angst in some places.

✦ notes: so, this is a really old work i posted on my first blog that i'm proud of sjhhjs i found it a while ago and decided to rework it a little!! (i haven't changed too much of the original though, just tweaked some sentences and added and subtracted.)

…i’d pull hell and heaven to their knees at your feet, and i’d kneel alongside them (if I could. oh, if only i could).

childe wants to give you the world and more.

he’s almost reverent in his devotion to those he loves, seeking to please beyond all else, and what he holds toward you is no different. at merely a blink of your eyes, he’d bring you the sun and the stars, weave moonlight into fabric and find a chunk of the most beautiful emerald you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he does it all with a wink and a smile and a ‘you need only ask, dear,’

and it is true, you need only ask for him to lay out the world for you.

but alas, there is only so much fate will allow him to do. his heart and soul may rest in your palms, but he is duty bound to the tsaritsa.

ajax can promise you everything in the world, just not himself.

he cannot promise you himself in his entirety, he cannot promise you an ajax without his secrets, without an always existing barrier in between you.

no matter how desperately he wants to.

…i’d stand bare in your light, arms asunder, abandoning my secrets and shedding the shadows i once called home.

kaeya alberich fears trust.

he’s scared of what it could lead to, what it could do to him, what it has done to him. he’s a man who lives under a cloak of secrets and inside a cocoon of fear and mysteries, and for him to allow himself to expose everything he hides is no small feat.

but it is the surest mark of his trust in you, that some hopeful part of him believes that you’ll stay against all odds.

he thinks you shouldn’t, though, that it’ll cause you more harm than good— he won’t let himself want you. but you’ll know he is truly yours when he hesitates no longer to tell you the deepest desires of his heart, to bare his whole soul and lay it before your eyes.

patience, and you'll find him the most beautiful butterfly of them all.

…i’d cross the deepest of chasms, weather the harshest of storms, and brave the most treacherous of paths to return to your arms.

not a soul can say that adeptus alatus has no home to go back to. (and if they did, how utterly wrong they’d be.)

his home is the warmth of your embrace, the love in every gentle caress, and the soft cadence of your voice. it's the smile in your eyes, and the spring in your step, and the softness of your heart. he’d call it almost dream-like, but xiao knows what dreams are like, far better than anyone. he also knows that every dream— no matter how intense, no matter how vivid— always disappears.

but you’re still here, day after day,

does that not mean you’re as real as the air he breathes and the sun that sets over liyue?

xiao’s loyalty is hard won, but it is steadfast. he cannot promise that he’ll live forever, nor can he promise you happiness every single minute of the day. but what he can promise you, is that at the end of the day, he’ll fight his hardest to return to you, no matter how far away he might be.

…i’d etch your memory— from the most mellifluous laugh to every tiny victory— onto my very soul, so that not even the flow of time can wash it away.

morax has prospered for centuries.

he’s witnessed dynasties fall to dust; paupers rise to prominence. he’s come across many he was fond of and cherishes the memory of everyone he has ever cared for. 

he’s also aware that forgetting some people in the vast expanse time is inevitable. the withering of the blooms of thought spare none, not even a god, and the tree of the psyche grows ancient. after all, even the mind is not permanent in a world of transience, is it?

but zhongli would be damned if he ever let you fade.

his promise, no, his contract— one he made to himself the day the realization that you'd one day no longer be by his side fully set in— is to preserve even the last wisps that linger, encasing the thought of you in shimmering gold, so that after you are long gone, you’ll live on as part of his soul.

…i’d whisper the softest of tales into the night breeze, tales of you and i, so that even when we’re long gone, the wind will carry our stories for aeons to come.

kazuha is no stranger to the whispers of the wind.

he’s intimately familiar with them, a rare blessing he knows he is lucky to have. but his most divine blessing is the privilege of being part of a story with you. life is short, unpredictable; one never knows what their fate might be, but he's beyond glad that this part of his destiny has you.

he has no desire to be a legend, and he knows you don’t either. but he is sentimental in the regard that he wants the whispers of the two of you to stick around. he’s lost so much, and reciting stories of the two of you is his way of preservation, for nothing spoken into the wind vanishes.

the world knows only a fraction of this wanderer, but he hopes that if they remember anything about him, they remember how much he loved you.

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

[pinchofhoney]

Hi, could you write something for Coryo x reader were the reader is close if not equally as evil in the end. How would that relationship work? idk just a thought I had use it if you wish

crack in the mirror

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: i think none

summary: Many cling to the belief of their own goodness, until they meet someone who's just like them.

a/n: hii, thank you so much for your request!! i hope you'll enjoy what i've written for you!<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

How did it all begin?

With the 10th Hunger Games, where your academic excellence earned you the role of mentor to one of the tributes.

It was a time of innocence and youthful ambition, back when your paths met within the shadowy corridors of the Capitol's Academy. You and Coriolanus were close friends, unstained by the cruelty that life had in store for you and you pretty often looked back on those days, memories of laughter, shared dreams, and an unwavering friendship etched in your mind.

The two of you were bound by a shared ambition, shining among the brightest stars, each destined for greatness in the eyes of those who believed in you. The world was your playground, and you were determined to conquer it. Little did you know how that fateful year, with its trials and tribulations, would set the course of your life on a much darker path.

As the mentor to Treech from District 7, you hadn't yet embraced the darkness that would soon consume you. Back then, you were as eager as your colleagues, hoping to prove your worth, do your best, and guide your tribute to victory. It was pretty cruel twist of fate that Lucy Gray Baird, with her haunting charm and cunning nature, would change the course of everything.

In the heart of those unforgettable 10th Hunger Games, within the unforgiving arena, your dreams and aspirations slowly began to twist and corrode. Ambition transformed into ruthless manipulation, friendship into subtle deception, and innocence into a devouring thirst for power. The venomous snake mutt that took Treech's life before your very eyes became a symbol of the ruthless transformation that was gradually overtaking you.

That year marked the beginning of your involvement in the Games and the emergence of a darkness that would one day reflect the very core of President Snow himself. The metropolis watched, captivated by the spectacle of the tributes battling for their lives, while behind the scenes, a bitter change took root.

As you stood alongside the other students in the viewing room, preoccupied with the tributes, a chill ran down your spine. You didn't yet grasped the feeling, but something fundamental had shifted within you. You couldn't shake the realization that in the Capitol, victory meant survival, and survival allowed for anything. Lucy Gray's actions, no matter how brutal, were merely a reflection of the society to which you belonged.

Coriolanus tried to hold onto the purity of your friendship, to keep the darkness at bay, but you were the values he progressively ignored. Ambition has a way of distorting even the best intentions, and the path you had chosen was covered in shadows and secrecy.

As the Games progressed, the transformation hastened. The bonds you had formed with others became instruments of manipulation, and you enjoyed your newfound ability to bend their will to your desires.

The suffering of each tribute, each extinguished life, stoked the icy flames of ambition within you. You clutched to the logic that to climb up the Capitol's hierarchy, you had to be willing to destroy all who stood in the way. Your heart grew cold, your smile more deceitful, and your soul darkened, much like the future President of Panem that Coriolanus didn't yet realize he would become.

The Games ended with Treech taking the third place, a result you considered an absolute failure. It served as the catalyst for your final descent into the abyss. You had only tasted a little bit of success, and you hungered for more. The purity of your friendship with Coriolanus had been definitely tarnished, and the darkness that enveloped you continued.

The 10th Hunger Games and the Gamemakers marked not just the beginning of a change within you, but also foreshadowed the dark days to come.

You and Coriolanus would be leaders of a world where cruelty and manipulation held authority.

You had come a long way since those innocent days at the Academy, where laughter and shared dreams were the currency of friendship. As the Head Gamemaker, you wielded power over life and death, orchestrating the annual Hunger Games spectacle that captivated the Capitol.

Your importance in the Capitol was undeniable, but the bonds of friendship that once connected you to young Snow had weakened, stretched to their limits, and threatened to break. Since your graduation from the Academy, the warmth of your interactions had been replaced by a chilling formality. The echoes of your former closeness had grown faint, drowned out by the sounds of the ruthless Games you helped design.

Coriolanus, still crawling in his presidency, remained in your life as a hint of your teenage years and shared mentorship past. He was both intrigued and disturbed by the ideas you injected into the Games each year, but he never consciously acknowledged the rot that had taken root within him as well.

As the Head Gamemaker, you reveled in the dark art of power, where tributes became pawns and suffering was blend into the very fabric of the arena. Your ambitions had propelled you to the highest echelons of Capitol society, but the biggest cost had been the destruction of the humanity that once defined you.

Determined, you made your way to the meeting room, eager to introduce Coriolanus to your plan for the 23rd Hunger Games.

He was already there, wearing an expression that mixed curiosity with apprehension. You greeted him with a cool nod, fully aware of how your interactions had grown more formal over the years.

“Coryo,” you began, saying the familiar diminutive you'd used back at the Academy. The warmth of that old friendship may have cooled, but the nickname had grown in you, a habit you couldn't shake when you were alone with him. “I've prepared something truly phenomenal for this year's Games. Something that will cause goosebumps on the skin of every viewer, let alone the tributes in the arena,” you said, locking your gaze with your old friend with a mysterious smirk on your lips.

In response, Coriolanus leaned in with growing curiosity. “Please, continue,” he urged, which only caused a wider smile on your face.

You gestured toward a holographic projection on the wall, revealing a sinister, genetically created creature. Its elongated limbs, razor-sharp claws, and grotesque, misshapen features created a nightmarish creation.

“This,” you declared, “is the Umbra Noctis. It's a creature designed to terrify and torture the tributes in ways they could never have imagined. With its ability to blend into the shadows, it will stalk them relentlessly, striking fear into their hearts.”

Coriolanus observed the creature, a mixture of fascination and consternation in his eyes, narrowing the gap between you. “But how does it differ from the mutts we've used before?”

You leaned in, your voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “It carries a venom that induces hallucinations, distorting reality for its victims. The terror it inflicts will be as much psychological as it is physical.”

As you detailed your plan, the room seemed to grow colder, and the weight of your shared darkness pressed on Coriolanus. You described the various mutants and horrors destined for the arena, all designed to heighten the tributes' fear and despair.

“I want the 23rd Hunger Games to be remembered as the most nightmarish ever,” you declared. “A spectacle that reveals the true depths of human darkness, concealed behind the Capitol's glittering facade.”

As the weight of your words settled in the room, Coriolanus’ initial curiosity gave way to a growing skepticism. He couldn't help but question the depths of darkness you were willing to immerse.

“Isn't this,” Coriolanus began, his voice cautious, “perhaps too much, even for the Hunger Games? We want to entertain, to captivate the audience, not to... terrify to the point of despair.”

You turned to him, your gaze firm, and for a moment, the professional mask slipped, revealing the abyss beneath. “Coryo, don't you see? The Capitol's fascination with the Games is not just about entertainment. It's about the harsh reality that we, as a society, have become as ruthless and depraved as the Games themselves. We are a reflection of the horrors we create.”

Coriolanus eyed you, his features a blend of recognition and disquiet. Your words had hit the spot, reminding him that he, too, played a role in Panem's transformation as its president.

You continued, your voice now nearly a whisper, “The darkness, Coryo, is not just within the arena but within us. The Games merely show what has always been there. It's a reflection of who we've become, and it's time we faced that truth.”

For a brief moment, Coriolanus seemed to confront his own rottenness, an unsettling truth that had long been concealed in the shadows of his conscience and the room fell silent.

With measured steps, you circled around Coriolanus, stopping in front of him. You met his calm gaze, finding in it the shadow of chaos, reflecting his soul.

Your eyes wandered over his attire, and with a calculated, gentle touch, you adjusted the rose on his chest before gracing him with a faint smile.

“Look at you,” you began, taking a step back, creating a clear distance between you. “Remember when you used to fear Dr. Gaul? And now, what have you become?” your next question followed swiftly, with no pause for his response.

“You're the man who sends innocent kids to their deaths every year, a cruel reminder to the districts of who hold the power, who is in control. And I? I'm just one of the instruments in your hands.”

Your words hung in the air, and as Coriolanus opened his mouth to respond, you silenced him with an unspoken urgency. “You might tell yourself that you can sleep soundly, shifting the responsibility onto me and my team, washing your hands clean of the blood. But deep down, you know it's a lie, don't you?”

Coriolanus met your gaze, a blend of defiance and self-denial in his eyes. He had always been skilled at pushing the truth aside, shielding himself from the reality he had become.

“You're mistaken,” he finally said, his voice tensed. “I have a duty to maintain order, to ensure the Capitol's dominance. The Games are a means to an end, a necessary evil.”

Your expression remained unwavering as you countered, “But do you truly believe that, Coryo? Do you truly believe it's as simple as maintaining order? The depths of cruelty we've reached, the horrors we've unleashed, they go beyond mere necessity.”

He opened his mouth to respond, to argue his case further, but a hint of doubt flickered in his eyes, betraying the internal struggle within. The truth you had spoken, the darkness he had tried to repress, clawed at the edges of his conscience.

“That's what I thought,” you said with a note of satisfaction in your eyes, and resumed presenting your plan as if nothing had happened, not paying attention to Coriolanus' confusion. However, the shift in the room's atmosphere was palpable, and the unspoken tension lingered.

[oweninadaydream]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐭 𝟏 || 𝐅.𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : Say Don't Go (Taylor's version) (From The Vault) or 4 times you say 'I love you' and Finnick says nothing back.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 : Finnick Odair x reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : 2K

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 : angst/fluffy ending (in part 2), (not really) unrequited love?, insecure reader, jealousy, TW: sexual exploitation (second story).

𝓪/𝓷 : This is my first time writing for Finnick and I'm so exited for you guys to read it!!! Hope you enjoy this fic :) Part two is already posted!!! You can find it here. If there are any mistakes I'm sorry , English is not my first language.

𝟣. 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒 

The quietness of the night was only being disturbed by the sound of crickets and mockingbirds. The cold breeze was the only thing keeping you awake. Well, that and Finnick. You were seated next to him on the porch of your house which was right next to his. Three years had passed since you won the 67th Hunger Games and you still weren't used to the gloomy sight that was Victors Village, especially not at night, when the solitude and darkness of the streets made you remember things you thought (or hoped) were long gone in your memory but that deep down you knew would always haunt you, until the day you died.

Finnick scooted closer in order to share his blanket with you "Stop being so prideful, I can see you shaking" he scolded you for being so stubborn. " I did it on purpose, I just wanted to make you cuddle me" you joked, as it was normal in your friendship.

He had been your mentor the year you were reaped , you got along well but didn't become that close then. You knew that those were his second games as a mentor and you could feel that he wasn't emotionally prepared to bond with you just to see you die days later. Still, he prepared you the best way he knew and was always kind towards you. After you emerged victorious from that nightmare, the Capitol decided to profit off of your charm ; you were too young, scared and lost, just like Finnick once had been (and still was). That's when he took you under his wing , and you would forever feel grateful for that.

He was your rock, your light within the dark, your safe person and he saw you as his happy place, someone he could rely on, his partner in crime and the person with whom he shared his deepest thoughts, his dreams, his nightmares and hopes for an utopian future. Finding each other seemed something simply destined to be. You needed each other in ways that no one else could wrap their head around.

Despite having that special and heartwarming relationship with him, you wanted more. You were utterly and madly in love with him. Your infatuation had begun during training and only grew stronger after he approached you after the games. The thing between you was so fragile, so special that you had never thought of confessing your love. The possibility of driving him away caused your heart a kind of ache worse than any stab received back in the Arena. Your feelings felt selfish, how could you want more? Your greedy passion would ruin everything (or so you thought), so you settled for what you had.

On the inside, you knew he wasn't the kind of man that would dismiss your feelings rudely and that he would continue to consider you his friend , but it just wouldn't be the same, and seeing your dynamic change in such a way would be a more fatal fate than dying at the games.

" The way they're shining, how beautiful" he quietly mumbled loud enough for you to hear. "I know, the stars look unreal tonight" you agreed while staring completely mesmerized to the night sky. "I was looking at your eyes" you turned to see that he wasn't in fact stargazing like you were. You were out of words. He was usually flirty and he never ran out of lovely words to dedicate to you, but you still reacted as if it were the first time. "Charming as always, dear" you replied as you rested your head on his chest. He moved so you could be more comfortable and you wanted to stop time at that exact moment.

" Thank you for always being there for me" he said in a more serious tone. " You know that I'd do anything for you. Are you okay? Where is this coming from?" you asked with a worried frown adorning your face. "These past few days apart have been rough and it made me appreciate you more" he confessed timidly. How privileged were you to be able to see him in his most vulnerable state. The moon, his hands holding yours, the heat you felt on your face, it was simply too much.

"FINNICK!" a blood-curdling scream came on the scene, startling you both. He quickly stood, as he had already identified the person behind such a yell. "ANNIE?!?!? WHAT'S WRONG?!?!?"

Annie was the victor of the last Hunger Games. She had been mentored by Finnick just like you, but unlike with you, Finnick had rapidly grown fond of her ever since they first met. You knew you shouldn't have thought too much of it, but your mind was your worst enemy. You couldn't stop yourself from imagining a very near future where he chose her over you , leaving you behind and all alone in this world. You liked her : she was kind, delicate but strong and very beautiful, but for those very same reasons you were becoming jealous of her and her chances of getting together with your best friend.

Annie appeared in front of your porch wrapped in a blanket and trembling while sobbing. " They're gonna get me" "Hey hey Annie c'mon, no one's gonna hurt you anymore, you know I'll make sure of it" How caring was Finnick, it was just natural for him to become the protector in every situation. "O-okay" Annie said with little confidence in her voice "Would you stay with me tonight? I had a really bad nightmare" her doe eyes had the reflection of the full moon in them ; it truly was a breath-stealing sight "Sure thing darling, I'll be there in a second, wait for me at home, all right? It's okay " his soothing voiced and calmed her down enough to return to her house by herself.

He turned around to look at you "I'm sorry, I have to go" "I know, Finnick, it's okay" you assured him, even though you were shocked by the term of endearment used for her, as it took Finnick quite a while to refer to you as sweetheart, honey or your favorite, love.

What was wrong with you? That poor girl had just got out of the games and was terrified out of her mind after dreaming about a traumatic experience she had recently been through (just like you did in you day) and the only thing you could think about was how jealous you were because she was being comforted by Finnick in such an intimate and caring way, because she had his full attention and she would be the one lured to sleep by his calloused hands running through her hair that night. You were not thinking logically and you lost control of your actions.

"Hey" you shouted to catch his attention, as he had already begun to leave towards Annie's house "I love you Finn, I just wanted you to know" you confessed as your froze in place . You told each other how much you loved each other all the time, but it had never been like this : not under that light, not with all that sentiment in your eyes and definitely not with such a voice tone. It was clearly a confession and you could't believe what you had just done.

He stared and smiled, transmitting you his appreciation for such kind words and he continued the way to his destination. Oh fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck. He hadn't interpreted your words as you spilling your guts about your feelings, it was just a friendly 'I love you' to him. Annie was perfect for him, you could never give him that sweet innocent love you believed Finnick deserved. The anxiety quickly transformed into anguish and you went back inside to prepare yourself for a night full of tears and stupid hypothetical scenarios about them. About him.

𝟤. 𝐼𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒

Looking around the enormous gardens you couldn't spot a single person you genuinely cared about. This Capitol party, as the previous ones, were filled with members of high society that gazed at you and the rest of victors as if you were exotic wild animals.

Reaching your secret hiding spot, you felt yourself letting your guard down. Even if distracted, you noticed the warm hand on your shoulder. You spun on your heels to identify the person behind that unexpected and yet comforting touch. Of course, Finnick Odair. Your confident, your best friend, your protector and the love of your life (role that's he's unaware of). "Shit Finnick, don't do that!" you playfully reprimanded him while smacking his chest. He pretended to be hurting but ended up laughing at your little tantrum.

"Wow, Cinna has outdone himself, you look charming my dear" he said as he gently took your hand to make you spin and admire the fine clothes you were dressed in that evening. Based on the pink blush that adorned his cheeks you quickly arrived to the conclusion that he was far from being sober and you didn't blame him, these events were unbearable if not intoxicated. "You're not bad yourself, Odair" .

The two of you danced, talked, drank more than you'd be able to remember the next day and flirted, a lot. Your heart couldn't take one more touch nor one more compliment from this man . "There's something you're not telling me, I can see it in your pretty face" he commented while hugging you from behind. He'd always known everything about you, so that remark was not surprising. Still, your heart started beating at an alarming speed and you felt the sweat coming out from your shaky hands.

What if you told him? Based on the spark in his eyes during the party you could only assume he was at least interested in you as more than a friend. You were intoxicated and wrapped between his arms, what if you just told him? "I... I love... you..." you mumbled while closing your eyes as if that would make you invisible to him. The deafening silence brought out your worst fear : rejection. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. You've fucked up real bad this time. You turned around to face him and get this done as fast as possible.

That's when you realized : he hadn't heard you confessing your most cherished secret. You had an opportunity to go back in time, to act as if nothing had happened. You couldn't risk losing him. You locked eyes with him and Finnick tilted his head to the side in drunken confusion as he hadn't caught on to what you had so shyly whispered. Smiling sympathetically you shook your head as if to not give importance to what had been previously said. He didn't give too much though to your dismissive answer. "Would you like another drink, love?" His characteristic smirk accompanied the proposal perfectly, inviting you to give in ; as always, you couldn't deny him anything.

Before you had the chance to approach the drinks table , one of Finnick's regular clients grabbed him by the waist and whispered something into his right ear. His eyes suddenly darkened and his once relaxed features stiffened significantly. You already knew what was about to happen. You were no stranger to the services President Snow forced him to provide to Panem's elite. In fact, you were another of the poor miserable souls in charge of satisfying every desire of anyone who was wealthy enough to afford the luxury of laying with a victor.

Telling the wealthy woman to wait at their usual meeting place, he shook her off. Finnick approached you, feeling guilty and not wanting to part from your side. After a single chaste kiss on your left cheek, he left in the same direction as his client. You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding and tried to prevent the tears from falling. As common as this was, it never got easier for neither of you.

Later that night you found yourself in a similar position as Finnick. The man caressing your body didn't pay any attention to the way you were spacing out and you felt thankful for that. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying over and over again the moment you almost told Finnick how in love you were with him and wondering what would have happened if you had had the courage to repeat those three words just a little bit louder . But it doesn't matter, not anymore. He was drunk and so were you, nothing sincere would have come out of his mouth at that time and you highly doubt sober him would have corresponded your feelings anyway. If only things were different.

[coolemmasulivan]

Love Wins (Even in Red)

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reporter!Reader

Summary: Fate reunites them under the red lights of Old Trafford. Interviews are frosty, leaving people wondering why. Can Mason forgive Reader for something that happened in the past? Can she win Mason's heart again and prove love wins even on red?

Word count: 3395

Read part 2 here

Author's note: My first language is not English. I'm sorry if this is confused I lost inspiration along the way. Tell me what you think. Part 2?

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

The roar of the Old Trafford crowd vibrated through the press box, but for you, it was a dull thrum compared to the storm brewing inside you. Your eyes flicked across the pitch, not to celebrate a goal, but to land on the figure currently terrorizing your mind - Mason Mount.

The boy you knew, the one whose smile could melt glaciers, was a distant memory. Now, every scowl and aggressive run on the field felt like a barbed message, a silent accusation. To you.

Three years. Three years since your paths diverged, leaving a gaping hole in your life. Now, fate had deposited both of you at Manchester United - you, a familiar star reporter, and him, the new name of the red team. Every interview was an excruciating dance. His curt answers and glacial stares were a constant reminder of the love story unfortunately cut short.

Today's post-game press conference promised to be no different. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself. As Mason strode into the room, the air crackled with an intangible tension. Your eyes met for a fleeting moment, a spark of something…familiar? It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the new icy indifference that was only directed to you. You forced a professional smile, your heart thudding a chaotic rhythm against your ribs. The cameras flashed, the microphones materialized. Time to get down to business.

"Mason," You began, your voice firm despite the jitters in your stomach, "a disappointing result today. Can you share your thoughts on what went wrong?"

Mason, a chiseled face creased with a deep frown, looked up at you. His eyes, usually sparkling with competitive fire, were clouded with a frustration that went beyond the loss. "There's no right answer, no magic formula to explain a defeat like this. We were slow on the uptake, sloppy with our passes, and frankly, the other team just wanted it more. We all know we're better than that performance out there."

"The fans are eager to understand," You said gently. "Can you elaborate on what the team will do to address these mistakes in the upcoming match?"

Mason sighed, a deep breath that seemed to carry the weight of the entire team's disappointment. "We'll go back to the basics. We'll work harder, push each other further in training. It's all about rediscovering that killer instinct, that hunger for victory that seems to have gone missing today."

"Will that be enough?"

"Sometimes the best way to address mistakes it's about remembering why we fell in love with something in the first place. We need to rediscover that spark, that joy that sets our hearts ablaze. When that fire burns bright again, the rest will fall into place, believe me."

His gaze lingered on you for a bit longer than necessary. In that moment, the years seemed to melt away, replaced by a raw intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. Was he just talking about football, or was there something more?

"Thanks for your time, Mason." He offered a curt nod in response, brushing past you as he exited the interview area. The contact was brief, a brush of his shoulder against yours. He didn't apologize, but then again, no apology was necessary. You both knew exactly what that touch meant.

Sam, the cameraman put down the camera and gave you an intriguing look. "I never saw you so... tense, in a interview before."

You sighed, the pressure easing slightly now that the interview was over. "I just didn't slept well, that's all." You said, carefully playing with the mic in your hand.

"Uh-huh," Sam said, clearly unconvinced. "Have you met him outside of work? Everytime you interview him, the body language between you two is weird."

"No. Not at all. I don't even know the guy." The weight of the unspoken truth settled heavily in your gut.

He studied you for a moment longer, his brow furrowed. "O... kay!"

You looked away from Sam and scanned the interview room. In the far corner, stood Mason. He was talking with another reporter, but his eyes were already locked on yours. You swallowed a lump in your throat and quickly looked away. The last thing you needed was to be caught staring. 

"I think we should go."

The door creaked open, as you practically stumbled into the apartment, kicking it shut with a heavy sigh. Your roommate and best friend, Clare, was sprawled on the couch, a half-eaten bowl of cheetos on her lap while she scrolled through her phone, with the TV playing on the background.

"Rough night?" Clare asked, as you flopped down onto the armchair opposite her.

"You could say that." You said. "He makes me so nervous. Everytime I interview him, it's like someone's squezing my lungs."

"Oh, you poor thing." She mocked you. "When are you going to tell him the truth? The real reason why you broke things off with him?"

You stood up already not feeling like having a deep conversation. "It was three years ago. Why would I do that now?" You opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

"Because you still like him. If you didn't, you wouldn't get nervous around the guy." You hated how right she was.

"I don't like him, like that. Not anymore. It's just... Complicated talking to him and be around him again."

"I saw the interview. I saw how you were shaking while holding the microphone and the way you looked at him." Claire got up and walked toward you. She grabbed your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. "You need to stop lying to yourself."

The aroma of grilled steaks hung heavy in the air as the team finished their dinner at Luke's house. Plates were pushed aside, replaced with beers and lively conversation. Despite the loss that still weighed on their shoulders, the camaraderie between the teammates was undeniable.

The talk eventually turned to the post-game interviews, and all eyes turned to Mason, who sat brooding in the corner.

"Alright, mate," Martínez, nudged Mason with his elbow. "What was all that with Y/n in the interview? When you talk to her it always looks like you're about to swallow a lemon whole. And the way you bumped your shoulder against hers..." Mason shot him a glare that usually made Martínez back down, but not tonight. In fact, he leaned in further, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Spill the beans, Mason. Is there some hidden tension we don't know about?"

Mason scowled, a faint blush creeping up his neck at the thought. "There is nothing there. She's just not my cup of tea."

"Are you sure about that?" Bruno ever the voice of reason, chimed in. "I know she worked for Chelsea a long time ago, covering you guys. Maybe there's some history there we don't know about?"

Mason froze, the memory of a younger, more carefree you, flashing in his mind. "There's no history, Bruno. Just... annoyance."

Marcus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Annoyance, huh? That's the story you're sticking with?"

Mason scowled, running a hand through his hair. "Look, it doesn't matter. What happened, happened. We're both professionals now."

"Professionals, yeah right," Marcus snorted, leaning back in his chair. "The way you looked at her today, after the interview... It doesn't look professional at all."

Mason fell silent, lost in thought. His gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace, as his friends playful jabs continued around him.

The roar of the Chelsea fans echoed in your ears long after the final whistle. Your gaze fixed Mason celebrating with his teammates. He was a blur, and a wave of emotions washed over you: pride, admiration, and a flicker of something more potent.

Later that night as the celebrations took over, you found yourselves drawn towards each other.

"Thought you'd be writing victory epics already." He said, a touch breathless from the celebration. You tilted your head, your smile playful but shy.

"Actually, I do have to go," You admitted, your voice dropping a touch lower. "But I mean, the real story might be happening right here." Mason let out a chuckle. "You were incredible tonight," You murmured, looking up at him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his gaze dropping to your lips. The air crackled with unspoken desire. "You look absolutely beautiful tonight." Mason said, his voice slightly husky above the music. He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling and you blushed.

"As beautiful as that trophy you've been practically worshipping all night?" You asked playfully. His gaze flickers between your eyes and lips.

"There's nothing more beautiful than you." A blush crept up on your neck.

Mason closed the gap between you, his kiss hesitant at first, then deepening with unexpected fervor. You lost yourselves in the moment, the music and the party fading away. Just as the kiss began to heat up, a voice boomed from behind you.

"Well, well, well! Look who's celebrating with a bang!" You jumped apart, breaking the kiss with startled gasps. Standing there, grinning from ear to ear, was Jorginho, obviously intoxicated. "Didn't know you two were such close colleagues," Jorginho continued, his eyebrows wagging suggestively. "Maybe I should write the headline for tomorrow's paper: 'Mason Mount Scores Off the Pitch!'"

Your cheeks burned with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. The moment, so beautifully unexpected, had been shattered, but the memory of the kiss lingered on your lips.

Mason tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangled around him. Images of you flashed through his mind, vivid and unexpected, stealing his sleep. Every memory – the laughter he knew so well, the way your lips used to mould together – sent a jolt through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the images away, but they persisted. Now that he was in Manchester, seeing you again messed everything up.

With a frustrated groan, he reached for his phone on the nightstand. The cool metal felt grounding in his heated palm. He scrolled through his social media feeds, the mindless scrolling failing to distract him. Finally, he gave in to the urge and tapped on his photo gallery.

There, nestled among pictures of his friends and family, was a photo that took his breath away. It was you, from a date night back in London three years ago. You were leaning against his old car, a playful smile on your lips, your eyes sparkling with love.

He zoomed in on the picture, studying your face. A million questions swirled in his mind. Did you ever think about him? Did you ever feel the same way? ... Why did you leave him?

The car stopped in front of your apartment building. Mason glanced over at you, a question flickering in his eyes. Your stomach clenched, a fist of dread tightening its grip.

"Mason," You started, your voice barely a whisper. The words you had rehearsed a thousand times in your head seemed to evaporate on your tongue.

He turned his gaze fully on you, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah?"

Taking a shaky breath, you forced ourself to meet his eyes. "This isn't working."

His smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Us," You blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in a rush. "This whole thing. It can't keep going."

"Why not?" His voice was barely above a murmur.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring his worried expression. "I... I got a job offer in Manchester. With United." The words felt foreign on your tongue, a betrayal of everything you had built.

A pained silence descended, heavy and suffocating. His hand instinctively reached for yours, but you flinched away, the movement a physical manifestation of the distance now growing between you.

"You're leaving?" His voice was rough, laced with disbelief. "Just like that?"

"I have to," You whispered, the lie a bitter taste. "Long distance never works. It's not fair to either of us."

"We could try," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "We could make it work."

The desperation in his eyes was almost too much to bear. "It's not about the distance, Mason." But the truth, the blackmail hanging over your head like a dark cloud.

"Then what is it?" he demanded, his voice rising slightly. "Because from where I'm standing, it feels like you're throwing everything we have away."

Shame burned in your throat, acrid and suffocating. "It's not that simple," You choked out. "There's just... I have to go."

His jaw clenched, his expression hardening into a mask of anger and hurt. "I guess that's it then," he said finally, his voice cold. "If you can't even be honest with me..." The engine roared back to life, the sound a harsh counterpoint to the tension that had fallen between you. "I..." He hesitated, then blurted out, "I fell in love with you."

Your breath hitched. The words hung in the air, heavy and heartbreaking. There was so much you wanted to say, to confess.

With a choked sob, you lied. "Mason, it's been great getting to know you, but..." You hesitated. "Love? No. Not even close."

He stared at the picture on his phone, the playful smile you used to flash him a constant reminder of what he'd lost. Maybe you were right about long distance, maybe it wouldn't have worked. But the way you flinched away from his touch, the choked sob that escaped you... those weren't things a simple goodbye could explain.

He slammed his phone on the nightstand. He couldn't let you walk away again, not without a fight. He didn't care about the reasons you gave, the distance, whatever it was. Seeing you again had ignited a fire in him, a determination to win you back. Maybe you didn't love him then, but that didn't mean things couldn't change. He wouldn't give up without a fight. This time, he'd hear the truth.

The bass throbbed through your chest as you stumbled down the dimly lit hallway, a misplaced sense of confidence fueled by tequila and flashing lights. You spotted the line for the bathrooms and was navigating towards it when, as you celebrated a friend's birthday, a figure materialized in front of you, blocking your path.

It was Mason.

His write shirt stood out starkly against the dark backdrop of the club, completely out of place. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the way his jaw clenched, a flicker of something warring between anger and surprise in his blue eyes.

A nervous flutter erupted in your stomach, warring with the tequila already muddling your thoughts. "Mason," you managed, a single word that escaped on a breath. "What are you doing here?"

He shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Came with a friend," he muttered, his eyes flickering to your bare legs before returning to your face. "Couldn't believe it when I saw you walk in."

You felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of surprise and something more unwelcome – a fluttering in your stomach. "Couldn't believe what?" You asked, your voice breathy.

He scanned the hallway behind you, his gaze landing on nowhere in particular before returning to you. "Getting wasted with… whoever that was."

You frowned, the memory of a friendly conversation with a guy from the bar twisting in your mind. "It was no one," you protested, a touch defensive. "He was just being friendly."

He scoffed, a harsh sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Right," he said, his voice tight. "The Y/n who swore she'd never touch a drop after…"

His words trailed off, hanging heavy in the air. Fueled by the alcohol and his accusing tone, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

For a moment, you stood frozen. Mason's eyes, wide with shock. Then, in a move so swift it took your breath away, he slammed you back against the wall, his lips finding yours in a rough, almost desperate kiss.

You, even caught off guard, found yourself responding to the kiss. It wasn't the sweet, shy kisses of the past, but a hungry, possessive collision of lips. The taste of tequila and something deeper, a longing you'd both harbored for years, tangled on your tongue.

His hands on your hips, his touch warm against the thin fabric of your dress. Your own hands, hesitant at first, found their way around his neck, pulling him closer. The pounding rhythm of the music from the club seemed to fade away, replaced by the frantic beat of you heart.

But just as quickly as it started, you gained courage and pulled away, you hand pressed against his chest. His eyes, ablaze with a mixture of anger and something else, burned into your.

"Why did you leave?" he demanded, his voice raw with emotion. And his hand still warm on your hip.

Tears welled up in your eyes. Shame washed over you, battling with the raw emotions the kiss had unearthed.

"They made me!" You blurted out, a confession you'd held for far too long. Mason stared at you, his face a mask of confusion. "Forget it," You whispered. Turning on your heel, you stumbled towards the exit, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the moment.

A hand shot out, grabbing your wrist before you could take another step. Mason's grip was firm, but gentle.

"Y/n," he pleaded, his voice laced with concern. "What are you talking about? Who made you leave?"

But you shook your head, tears blurring your vision. The memory of threats, the fear that had driven you away from the man you were in love with was too raw to relive.

"Just… forget it." You repeated, your voice barely a whisper. With a final tug, you pulled free from his grasp and disappeared, leaving Mason standing alone in the hallway, confused and filled with a dawning realization that there was far more to their past than he ever knew.

The old popcorn on the floor crunched under your feet as you stormed into your younger sister's bedroom. The light from the TV cast a glow on the room. Your 17-year-old sister, Lily, sprawled on the bed, oblivious to the hurricane brewing inside you.

"What did you do?" Your voice cracked. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "Why can't you be a normal teenager?"

Lily, bathed in the blue light of the phone screen, finally looked up. "I didn't know he was filming us," she mumbled, her voice laced with a teenage defiance that ignited a fire in your chest. "Don't be so dramatic!"

"He's blackmailing me because of you, Lily!" You yelled, the dam of your emotions finally bursting. "I have to leave my job, my friends and Mason, because of this, of course I'm being dramatic! You're so irresponsible. You never think about how your actions can destroy others!"

Lily scoffed, rolling her eyes. "So what if you need to leave your job? You'll find a new one," she said, her voice dripping with a casualness that made you want to scream. "And Mason? You'll find another dumb player to date in the new club."

The flippant dismissal of your relationship with Mason was the final straw. Fury surged through you, momentarily eclipsing the despair that threatened to consume you. You lunged for a decorative box on the dresser. With a deafening crash, the box shattered on the floor, its contents scattering like broken dreams.

"This is my chance to go to Cambridge!" Lily shrieked, finally understanding the gravity of the situation. "That video will be destroyed, you just have to leave the guy. I'm your sister. We're family. You're supposed to help me."

You stared at your sister. "I can't believe you're actually okay with me sacrificing my life because of this."

"This is my future," Lily pleaded, "You're 21, you'll find a lot of Masons in your life."

A humorless laugh escaped your lips. "This isn't just about Mason – although it hurts like hell that you think so little of my relationship. It's about the principle. You can't just expect me to throw away my happiness to clean up your mess."

"Our family will never forgive you if you don't do this," she whimpered, clutching the phone tighter as if it were a lifeline. "Show everyone that you're not the black sheep of the family."

[littledovesnow]

the sound of snow

request: coriolanus with a girlfriend (wife in this case) who has hearing damange from the war

word count: 2.2k

content warnings: coriolanus being kinda awful in his speech but it's canon sooo, lucky flickerman trying to make a joke (spoiler: it doesn't land well), i think that's it?

a/n: ok i am not d/Deaf/HoH but i do have friends and former classmates who are, and i've done research before writing this. please correct me if i am wrong about anything. i left some things vague (such as hearing loss level), but overall i think it's decent?

also italics are when there's sign language being used :)

also also i had like three title ideas for this but i feel like they're all so bad but i liked this one the best

-----

Coriolanus had first met you back when you were both still wet behind the ears, unsure of how to navigate life after the Dark Days. His family had taken a direct hit when District 13 was no longer, his family’s fortune plundering into the depth unknown. Your family, however, had to face a different setback: a few rather close bomb blasts had stolen a majority of your hearing.

Coming from an affluent family, you were able to afford a private tutor growing up, teaching you and your family sign language, though as you grew old enough you were fit for a hearing aid in the left ear—the only one with enough hearing left to make it worthwhile.

All the while, you and Coriolanus never turned your backs on each other, choosing to let each other in on your trials and tribulations, knowing secrets were safe between the two of you. He had thus learned sign language from being in your home so often, Tigris and the Grandma’am having picked up on some of the more common phrases.

When you were both of age to begin at the Academy, your father fought tooth and nail with the Dean to ensure you were well-equipped with an interpreter when necessary, though you often went without one as you grew tiresome of the stares from your classmates.

During the 10th Annual Hunger Games, you say alongside Coriolanus as you two watched the tributes battle for victory, both celebrating when Lucy Gray was crowned the victor, both unaware of what fate waited your boyfriend the following day.

His stint in District 12 was something you two rarely spoke on, choosing to forget those few disastrous months while you were separated, you back in the Capitol studying at University while Coriolanus learned the hard way what it meant to be a Peacekeeper, to learn what it feels like to betray a friend, to learn what true power felt like.

Dr. Gaul had spoken to you prior to calling Coriolanus back to the Capitol, wanting your input if he would be a considerable candidate for her Gamemaker Apprenticeship, to which you informed her it was one of the biggest honors he would have wished for. Thus, Coriolanus was recalled back to the Capitol, back to you, where he stood alongside Dr. Gaul to prepare for years of Hunger Games, eventually landing as a true Gamemaker as Dr. Gaul began to take steps back in preparation for her retirement.

One day, however, Coriolanus had told her he was interested in becoming Panem’s next president, with Felix Ravinstill gone and no other heirs of the title, an election would take place. It was no surprise to the Head Gamemaker when the blonde brought the idea up, having seen him yearn and hunger for the coveted presidential position since he was fresh out of the Academy.

It came as no shock when he was announced at the Panem’s next president, you alongside of him as the First Lady. The country never knew what would become of the young couple, stars and revenge in their eyes.

-----

Coriolanus knew where he could find you once he returned from the Citadel, having met with Dr. Gaul for the upcoming 25th Hunger Games. He wanted them to be more of a spectacle than usual, to commemorate the quarter century since the end of the war.

He ignored the Avox who had opened the door to the private wing of the mansion, ignored the Avox who had his usual glass of whiskey waiting on a silver platter.

Opening the door to the greenhouse, Coriolanus’ eyes lit up as he saw you carefully pruning the rose bush planted in memorial of the Grandma’am. “Love?”

You looked up, and Coriolanus smiled when he realized your hearing aid was still in. You usually chose not to wear it while at home, preferring the comfortable silence from time to time.

“How was your day?” He asked, helping you untie the gardening smock you wore to protect the clothing underneath.

“It was fine, uneventful.” You replied, looking at the garden around the two of you. “How was Volumnia?”

Coriolanus was still gobsmacked that Dr. Gaul allowed his wife to call her by her first name, only a select few Capitol citizens were granted that honor, though he was one of them.

“She misses you, asked that you stop by sometime for lunch.” Coriolanus mused, plucking a rose out of the bunch in the vase. “Maybe you can help her come up with some new strategies for The Games, she loved your idea of stocking some food in the middle.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, not expecting the silly idea of arming the tributes with food to be such a hit in the Captiol. Betting had been at an all-time high for the tributes who had been able to get their hands on the stale, tasteless protein bars.

“I’ll see if she’s available on Thursday.” You knew the mad scientist would make room any day to meet with you. She had a soft spot for you, no one was quite sure why.

“You can ask her this evening, since we have that awful gala to start preparing for The Games.”

You looked at your husband, clearly forgetting about the gala. “I forgot that was tonight. I wouldn’t have pruned the roses if I had known.”

Coriolanus, who was cold-hearted and strict in public, simply waved off the nonissue. “You wore gloves, a smock, you look as beautiful as ever.”

You pressed your lips to his, disappearing to the bathroom for a shower prior to getting ready.

-----

 Attending Capitol galas and evening events as First Lady of Panem was something you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. Cameras flashing, various news outlets trying to get a snippet of you and Coriolanus talking, microphones in your faces.

Not that they would get anything, as Coriolanus was only going to give hints at his next political plans, life events, anything really, to Lucky Flickerman, who he had become rather close with following his mentorship in the Academy.

“D’you want anything to drink?” Coriolanus asked, lips brushing on the shell of your left ear.

Nodding, you two moved over to the bar for a couple glasses of posca before starting the endless circle of meeting politicians, thanking Capitol elites for their support, and the nagging question of when you two would start a family.

You had eventually been able to break free from the conversation you and Coriolanus were stuck in when Lucky Flickerman himself took the spot in behind the podium, preparing to start the night’s speeches.

Taking your seats, you felt Coriolanus place his arm on the back of your chair, hand brushing up and down the back your right bicep, goosebumps breaking out in the area.

As Lucky began his speech, you moved closer to your husband, whispering in his ear, “I can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Coriolanus looked back at you, noticing the missing hearing aid, eyebrow raised.

“I forgot to put it back in after my shower.”

Without missing a beat, Coriolanus shifted in his seat and began to interpret the speeches for you, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks you two were getting, mainly from newer guests who weren’t used to seeing the president use sign language.

At the conclusion of Lucky’s speech, a Capitol employee scuttled over to the First Couple.

“President Snow, we can have an Avox translate if you’d like.”

Frowning, Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s alright, I can interpret for my wife.”

The employee didn’t seem to expect that response, simply blinking at the couple.

“Is that a problem?” Coriolanus asked, ignoring your hand on his knee.

“N-no, not at all. I just- you’re expected to make a speech tonight, too.” The employee tried to backpedal, not wanting to ruin his career tonight.

You chose this moment to speak up, not wanting Coriolanus to overreact. “It’s fine, Coryo’s quite apt at making sure I know what’s going on. Why don’t you be a dear and get me a glass of wine?”

The employee was quick to leave the conversation, and Coriolanus looked at you. “You’re too kind to them.”

Shrugging, you took the full glass without so much as a glance in the employee’s direction. “Someone has to be.”

Coriolanus let out an airy laugh as he stood up, dusting off some nonexistent crumbs from his burgundy suit. He squeezed your arm before departing from your side, taking his place where Lucky Flickerman had left open, the weatherman-turned-host made sure to give his hand a shake as they exchanged pleasantries.

 Giving everyone a moment to settle down, Coriolanus cleared his throat before beginning, shocking nearly everyone in the room as he used both his voice and hands to conduct the speech.

“The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games are right around the corner, so I thought I would give you all a twist I’m putting into the Reaping ceremony this year, and potentially the following Reapings. Dr. Gaul and I have had numerous discussions about how tributes are elected, and from prior games being rigged, we have initiated a couple updates to the ceremony and process.”

You were curious of the updates Coriolanus was talking about, unaware he was still dipping his toes into Gamemaking.

“Rather than each District’s mayor or elected spokesperson calling the names, we will have someone from the Capitol pull names. It will eliminate the possibility for rigging the tributes. In addition, who really wants to watch groups of children kill each other? With Reaping eligibility starting at age twelve, the Gamemakers and I have decided to increase the number of entries one gets as they age. When they reach the age of eighteen, each possible tribute will be entered into the Reaping six times.”

You weren’t able to hear everyone’s whispers, but you could see them looking at each other, taking in the news.

Coriolanus concluded his speech by introducing Dr. Gaul’s assistant, as the Head Gamemaker had something come up rendering her unable to attend the gala.

When he returned to your side, you looked him up and down. “Some updates, huh? Whose idea were they?”

Coriolanus had a smirk on his face, simply bringing his glass of posca to his lips.

-----

After all of the speeches were finished, some music began to play, letting the now tipsy and drunk Capitol elite take the dancefloor with eager steps.

Lucky Flickerman meandered over to where you and Coriolanus were still seated, discussing what Tigris deserved for her upcoming birthday.

“Not going to share a dance tonight?” He asked, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, Lucky, you should now, we don’t really dance. Only for the most special of occasions.” Coriolanus smiled, twisting the wedding band around his finger.

You wore a matching smile, though your reply wasn’t quite what Lucky expected. “And besides, Lucky, I’m not the best dancer if I can’t hear the music. You should have seen the first time we tried to dance together in the Academy.”  

The mustached man opened his mouth like he was going to reply, but nothing came out except for a chuckle.

Coriolanus hid his smile behind the glass of water he had switched to, not able to tolerate the posca and wine like he had before.

It was one of his favorite moments after you two had officially started dating. The Academy had their annual prom, though it tended to be more of a fashion show than dance, as many students arrived in extravagant outfits that were ill-suited for dancing.

You had been in a sparking silver dress, heels a gift from your mother, red-tinted lips dropping when Coriolanus asked you to dance with him.

It had been enough missteps to last a lifetime, but the two of you took it in stride, promising each other to get a proper dance instructor before your first dance at the wedding years later.

“I do hate to break up the fond memory, honey, but we should be heading out.”

Coriolanus downed the rest of his water before standing, lending you his arm as you two bid goodnight to your friends and Coriolanus’ closest colleagues, before disappearing from the gala.

-----

You walked out of the bathroom from taking your makeup off to see Coriolanus sitting on the bed, sheets pulled back for your arrival.

“Who are you thinking will be the Capitol’s representative for the Reaping?” You asked, mind still going back to the Reaping updates.

Coriolanus closed the book he was reading, eyes looking you up and down as you climbed into the bed. “I don’t know yet. Why, do you have anyone in mind?”

You shrugged, pulling the sheets up to your chest, yawn escaping your lips. “No one in particular, but I’m sure I could come up with some names.”

Coriolanus laughed, setting his book on the nightstand next to him. “We can talk about it when you’re not going to fall asleep in mere minutes. Goodnight, love.”

“Mm, ‘night, Coryo.” You whispered, letting Coriolanus’ soft breathing and the distant sounds of sirens lull you to sleep.

-----

a/n: hey was this good should i do more in this universe let me know

[angel-of-reckoning]

The Victory Star of Fate Retake Character Spotlight: Dr. Fennel

In the next installment of the series focusing on characters featured in The Victory Star of Fate Retake, a look at Dr. Fennel, the researcher into dreams.

Dr. Fennel is a researcher from the Unova region, who specializes in the study of dreams and the mysterious realm said to lay beyond them, known only as the “Dream World.” In the past, she was employed by Everton International to conduct her work at a laboratory near Striaton City, the Pokémon Energy Laboratory. However, due to an accident, the facility was destroyed and the ruined site became known as the Dreamyard.

Following this event, the truth of which was covered up by the company, Everton International brought Fennel to Whitegold City and stationed her aboard the offshore oil platform Nautilus One to continue her research. She is the lead scientist on the Dream Energy Project, Everton International’s efforts to harness the energy of the Dream World as a source of clean, limitless energy. In this capacity, Fennel is also tasked with working on the mysterious “Project A-PIx,” a secret development known only to her and a select group within Everton International’s upper echelon.

Fennel’s Pokémon partners are her Munna and Musharna, who assist her in her dream research.

[topperscumslut]

Kiss Me With Your Eyes Closed (Sejanus Plinth x Reader)

Summary: (Y/N) is the victor of the 9th Hunger Games and the beloved girlfriend of Coriolanus Snow, though she’s secretly in love with his best friend (in this au the hunger games progressed more quickly, for example mentors were already present before the 10th games etc etc). title inspired by Hot Freaks’ Puppy Princess!

Warnings: not much rlly tbh, a wee bit of angst but mostly FLUFFY FLUFFFFF. might write a smutty sequel if this does well (or just if i feel like it lol) but even then it would be more fluffy smut, like sweet love making rather than getting absolutely railed lmao yk? (i probably will so stay tuned if u like this and lmk if u wanna be tagged!)

spoiler free apart from references to coriolanus x lucy gray!!

ok actually it is a pretty good amount of angst nvm lmao

Word count: 2k

You sigh as you run your fingers over the tattered poster, so shiny and new only a year before, reading the now barely legible words. (Y/N) (L/N) Victory Tour, In Honor of the 9th Hunger Games, Arriving Soon in Your District. You remember your victory tour all too well. Despite the traumas you had endured as a victor, you’re grateful for how far you’ve come. Sure, you still have nightmares of your games every now and again, yet even still you have the best fate a girl from District 3 could ever hope for - you had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was the perfect love story. A doomed romance from the beginning; star crossed lovers, one might say, a Capitol boy and a District girl. When you had arrived at the Capitol for the 9th Hunger Games, near certain you had no chance of winning, your dashing mentor Coriolanus Snow had immediately taken a liking to you. He took you under his wing and coached you through your games, and when you had miraculously emerged victorious and returned to the Capitol, he decided that he wanted you for his own, and who were you to say no? Not even a few weeks before, you were just another girl from District 3, completely unknown, barely scraping by. Now you had been thrust suddenly into a lavish lifestyle with a handsome suitor to boot, adored by all of Panem; the nation’s sweetheart. After your games, you could have left it all behind. Sure, you would never be granted total anonymity being a victor, but you could have gone back to your beaten down home in District 3 and lived a relatively quiet life. After all, it’s not like the Snows had the finances to buy your freedom from your district and turn you into a full fledged Capitol citizen.

But the Plinths did.

You never particularly enjoyed Strabo Plinth as a person, but you couldn’t help but be grateful to him for what he had done for you. You had, however, immediately taken a liking to his caring wife, as well as his juxtaposition of a son, Sejanus, who clearly took more after his mother. In contrast to your rugged, analytical lover, Sejanus was gentle, complex. The two of you had become fast friends while Coriolanus had helped you prepare for the games.

And so before you knew it, this was your new life. At first you were anxious, concerned that your becoming a Capitol citizen and Coriolanus associating so intimately with a girl from the Districts would be seen as an act of rebellion and put you both in danger. However Coriolanus assured you that the nation loved you, both as an individual and as a couple. Sure, it was unexpected, yeah, it broke the (admittedly unwritten) rules, but that’s what made it oh-so fun to watch. Because at the end of the day, the games weren’t a competition - they were a show, and everyone loved an underdog.

There was only one minor flaw. You had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol, yes, but it wasn’t the one you had so publicly given your heart to.

Your relationship with Coriolanus was practical, and that was about the only positive thing you could truthfully say about it. Neither of you were particularly wealthy or powerful individually, but together, you had potential. If you could keep all of Panem tuned in to your epic love story, you could almost certainly ensure mutual survival. You offered Coriolanus the opportunity to be known as not only a mentor to a victor, but a lover as well. And though nearly a year later his eyes had started to wander, the dapper blond had been quite infatuated with you when the courtship had begun, and Coriolanus was notoriously possessive. While his family was in the midst of financial hardship at the current moment, becoming a Capitol resident gave you the opportunity to get by still much more comfortably than you had in your impoverished home district. And who knew what volatility Coriolanus was capable of if you had rejected his advances? You had been coaxed into this very moment and had no other option but to grin and bear it. After all, all the girls you knew back home would kill to be in your position. A handsome sweetheart, financial stability courtesy of the Plinths, and the whole country all but worshiping you. Coriolanus Snow had offered you not only fame and fortune, but more importantly, security. Safety, in return for your undying affection.

Coriolanus was sweet at first. Charming, for sure. He was certainly attractive, yet he had never really had much of an effect on you. Maybe it was simply intuition. Or maybe it was the fact that he could never compare to his best friend, Sejanus Plinth.

Kind, pure Sejanus. The type of boy that, unlike Coriolanus Snow, truly made your head spin. The chemistry between you and Sejanus was unspoken, yet undeniable. However, you had already reluctantly sworn yourself to Coriolanus, and knew running off with his best friend would certainly put both you and your not so secret admirer in a treacherous situation. Sejanus Plinth was a risk you simply couldn’t afford to take.

What stung the most was that in any other situation, it could have worked. Sejanus was certainly more wealthy and influential than Coriolanus, not that that was what truly mattered to you. If you had been just a bit more fortunate, you could have had the boy you truly loved as your mentor and still have the same security and more that you were now so gracefully granted, if you had simply found your way to Sejanus before Coriolanus had set his sights on you and claimed you as his own. But unfortunately for you, your current romantic relationship was one built upon the grounds of survival rather than love.

If you were fully honest with yourself, you never truly loved Coriolanus - well, not romantically, at least. There was once a time where you had loved him as a dear friend, but in the time you had known him, he had become cruel and vitriolic. You knew from the start that he had always had it in him to become this way, though you had always naively hoped that he wouldn’t, that he would control himself, but the poison within his soul had soon taken over his cold, uncaring heart. He had become hardened by the misfortune of his family and gradually more complaisant in the ways of the Capitol, as well as secretly resentful of the great fortune of his supposed best friend and honorary brother Sejanus.

Now just over a year since you had met, the 10th Hunger Games were nearing to start. You had heard the whispers of Coriolanus sneaking around with his newest mentee, your replacement in more ways than one, Lucy Gray Baird; however it never bothered you. Lucy Gray knew that your relationship with Coriolanus was nothing more than a facade, and the two of you had become unlikely friends. You weren’t sure just how much of his affections for Lucy Gray were genuine, or how much was motivated by a desire to flatter her in an attempt to gain another victor to further his own career. Though Coriolanus’s mood was recently heightened by his new lover, he was still resentful of being assigned such an impoverished district for two years in a row and was prone to fits of rage over this perceived insult. While your home of District 3 was never much of a spectacle, Lucy Gray’s District 12 was miraculously even more down trodden, the poorest district of them all. You couldn’t help but wonder if this assignment was actually made to compliment Coriolanus, to show that if he could made a diamond in the rough out of you, that perhaps he could do the same for Lucy Gray.

As you sit alone in Coriolanus’s bed, still running your fingers gingerly along the photograph, you hear a knock at the door.

“Sejanus?”

“Oh, hey. Is Coryo around?”

You shake your head. “He’s out right now.”

Sejanus’s jaw tightens at your response. “With her?”

You nod unenthusiastically and can see the disgust and anger wash over his face as he makes his way over to you.

“It’s not her fault, Sejanus. She’s actually really sweet.”

He sits down on the bed next to you, careful to leave enough space between the two of you as to not make you uncomfortable. “I know it’s not. It’s his. Does it really not bother you at all?”

“Not particularly.”

He chuckles to himself. “You’re better than me, (Y/N). I don’t know how you put up with it. If I truly loved someone, it would kill me to see them with someone else.” He’s subtle, but you can tell exactly what he’s implying.

“Well good thing I don’t have to see it.”

“Fair enough.”

Sejanus looks sympathetically at you for a second, blissfully unaware that his kind, beautiful brown eyes are making you melt, before noticing the poster in your hand.

“Is that-”

“Yep.” You shiver, remembering your games, the things you saw… “I don’t think it ever occurred to him, the things I had to do in there.”

“It occurred to me.” He gently places his shaky hand on your knee, carefully surveying your expression to make sure you’re okay with the contact, to which you nod slightly, nearly involuntarily. “Look, I’ll say it since no one else in this screwed up place will, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You bite your lip, feeling butterflies in your stomach once again as he gives you that look and it takes everything in you not to lean in and kiss him right then and there. Your boyfriend could come home any moment, after all, and you quickly compose yourself, breaking Sejanus’s gaze. “It’s okay. I won. It’s the Hunger Games. It’s an honor.”

He inches carefully closer to you before speaking up again, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “(Y/N), you don’t have to pretend around me.”

You shake your head in denial. “I’m not pretending.”

“Then why haven’t I seen that light in your eyes that I love so much since you’ve left the arena? Why don’t you care that he’s always off with Lucy Gray? Why are the rules different for you than they are for him?”

And suddenly it hits you all at once. Sejanus is right. If Coriolanus is sneaking around with your friend everyday, even when they aren’t training, then what’s to stop you from doing the same to him? What do you owe him when all he’s ever done is keep you like a bird in a cage?

You don’t stop yourself, you don’t even think as you lean in and kiss Sejanus. He gets over the initial shock quickly and melts into it, cradling your body in his arms and pulling you in by the small of your back. You both pull away at the same time, not quite sure what’s gotten into you, but whatever it is, you like it.

“Coriolanus has never kissed me like that.”

“Go figure.”

His nerves kick in once again as he starts to stutter an apology before you shut him up by kissing him softly again.

“Since I first got to the Capitol… Sejanus, nothing here has felt right, except for you.”

“I could say the same about you,” he muses as he leans in once again, kissing you slow, both of you pretending the moment could last forever. If only…

[onlylonelylatino]

The Star-Spangled Kid/Skyman, the Seven Soldiers of Victory, Justice Society, Infinity Inc., the Icicle and Starman by Chris Weston

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Too stupid to be real

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

There once was a species known as the Ping that held control over several dozen star systems near the outer edges of the known universe.

Under their reign entire worlds were turned into nightmarish hellscapes the likes of which only the mad could dream of and only the dead escape from. The Ping feasted on suffering for nutrients in a process still not fully understood today despite several centuries of research, and so they tortured and mutilated all within their domain.

It took the combined efforts of half a dozen species to finally drive the Ping back to their original homeworld. Countless billions died in the struggle, and twice as many went mad from the horrific images and hallucinations; yet the death like grip of the Ping was broken.

When it came to decide the fate of the Ping there was a heated debate amongst the victors. Half felt that the Ping were too dangerous to be left free and needed to be exterminated, while the other half was hesitant to be swayed by such extreme measures as it would make them no better than those they had fought to overthrow. The debate raged on for several weeks after the final battle until the moderates emerged victorious.

A massive cryogenic vault was constructed on the Ping homeworld and every surviving member of the species was locked within. Inside their cryo tubes the Ping would serve out their sentences until such a time as the rest of the galaxy felt the Ping could be set free into the universe.

To ensure the vault was not breached several different layers of defenses were installed, each created by a different species to ensure that no one member species could enter into the vault unless each agreed. With the security features in place the Ping homeworld was vacated and orbital beacons were placed warning all who came within system that the planet was off limits.

Years turned into decades, decades to centuries, and then millennia passed without a single soul setting foot on the planet. The former victors of the war continued with their lives and managing their new found freedom amongst the stars without the threat of the Ping. Perhaps it was in this new found sense of freedom that they slowly began to forget about the Ping’s existence all together.

Had any of them given the Ping a thought for even a moment one of them could have warned Humanity to stay away; but none did.

When humanity began expanding into the stars they spread out in all directions like lightning in the sky. Their appetite for the new and wondrous universe around them was insatiable. For too long they had known only the confines of their own world and with the coming of space travel they finally saw their chance to explore the stars; which led them to stumbling upon the Ping homeworld.

Where other races would have seen the array of defenses and obstacles blocking the world and turned away, humanity saw a mystery in need of solving.

“A seemingly dead world protected by such wonders?” they thought. “What treasures are hidden here?”

So they dove head first with reckless abandon into the world, ignoring the numerous warning signals that were still being transmitted by the automated systems orbiting the planet in languages they could not understand.

The first expedition hadn’t made it through the first layer of outer atmosphere before colliding into energy barriers. Crengthi shields operated on wave lengths not detectible by human instruments and so the ships were damaged but still capable of space flight.

The second expedition was able to study the shielding and devised a jamming device that would open small holes within the shield to allow ships to pass through. They had just made it into the lower atmosphere when ground based Kentoc automated cannons targeted their vessels and obliterated them.

The third expedition was larger than the previous two by far as the military had seen the results of the ground based weaponry and wanted their scientists to reverse engineer them. A large military contingent was deployed alongside the science vessels and spear headed the landings on the surface.

Once more the Kentoc cannons roared into the heavens but the military ships were able to withstand the barrage. There were still losses and a few of the heavier landing craft were obliterated, but still many more troop carriers landed and dispersed their cargo of soldiers and scientists. It was here that they triggered the Julnu mind madness broadcaster.

Within minutes the humans who had survived to touch the surface of the Ping homeworld were driven mad by visions of such intense horror many gouged out their own eyes to make the nightmares stop. The military leaders still in orbit could only watch in horror as every human on the planet killed each other and then themselves until once more the planet lay silent.

And so it went on for decades on and off again.

Expedition after expedition would be sent to the Ping homeworld building atop the advances made by the previous until succumbing to the world themselves. Sometimes it was the military, other times private corporations, and then eventually even privateers and treasure hunter’s came drawn to the world by the ever growing legend.

The defenses of the world were extensive, but not infinite; and with each expedition they grew thinner and thinner until finally the humans had reached the cryo vault itself. It was here that the other surviving races of the universe who had once imprisoned the Ping received a final warning transmission that the vault was about to be breached.

Historical records were dusted off and it was with great horror that these races knew of what would be unleashed should they fail to keep the humans from the vault. Wars between them all but ceased as their military fleets were rerouted to the Ping homeworld.

When they arrived they were surprised to find there were no longer any humans on the world. In fact, there was not a single living human left in the entire system.

They quickly descended on the world and found that it had been stripped bare of all technology. Energy shields, automated weapons, broadcasting systems; anything of value had been taken by the humans in their relentless pursuit of the mysterious world was claimed as their prize.

Fearing the worst the races rushed deep into the confines of the world for the cryo vault , hoping beyond hope that the humans had not been so foolish as to unleash the most dangerous species the universe had ever known. Scorched and melted, they found the vault doors had been cut through and breached. With weapons drawn and at the ready they advanced into the vault but found something they had not expected.

Every single cryo pod was missing from the vault, but at the entrance of the vault casually tossed off to the side was a massive mound of dead Ping. Each body had a single hole in their forehead from what was most likely a close range human automatic weapon ensuring immediate death. While some of the races breathed a sigh of relief, others were outraged at the casual butchery carried out by the humans and sought answers.

A delegation was sent to the human homeworld to demand answers and answers they were given.

One of the pods had indeed been opened shortly after the vault had been breached and the humans interacted with the Ping for a brief time. It soon became quickly obvious that the Ping were a hostile race as they immediately attempted to kill all of the humans present and free either brethren.

After a two dozen killed soldiers and scientists it was finally brought down when an excavation bot rammed it through the chest and impaled it to the wall of the vault. It bled out screaming in its alien tongue for hours until finally it died.

The leader of the expedition was given instructions to bring back any usable technology, but nothing on what to do if encountering sentient life forms. It had been a general consensus that they had been dealing with the automated defenses of a long dead civilization so it had never been considered.

Taking into account the hostile nature of the Ping, the leader made a judgment call that they could not be safely released back into the universe. Upon the opening of each cryo pod the occupant was summarily executed before they could fully recover and tossed aside while the pod was removed from the chamber.

The gathered alien delegates were dumbfounded by the humans. They had breached one of the most secure locations in the known universe without fully understanding it and had slain the greatest evil of the universe held within, and had moved on to new endeavors as if what they had just done was as interesting as a casual walk in spring.

They worried what would happen the next time the humans became interested in something.

[booksash]

ACTFL QUOTES!MINOR SPOILERS!

I asked some of my Goodreads friends,who read ACTFL,to share some quotes from the book.One quote is a little bit spoilery,but i will put it at the end of the post,if you do not want to read it.Here are the quotes:

"You are not in danger.I'm here because a friend of ours needs help- your help.He's about to make a horrible decision and you need to change his mind before it's too late to save him."

"-I would have thought you like bad ideas.

-Only when they're mine."

"But soon there was more light than dark.A world of bright as if the sky and the ground has switched places and now Earth was covered in shimmering stars."

"It's my fault.It's too late now."

”But just because he was all she had didn't mean that she needed to give him all the power. "

”Evangeline spun to the side and slapped him hard across the face. The sound of her hand hitting his cheek echoed through the inn, loud, cracking, and satistying."

“"Please, Little Fox, remember."

"Her hope might have been powerful, but it wasn't magic. It wasn't enough.“

"I just forgot to breathe."

"We can go wherever you want, little fox."

" "I know I seem naive," Evangeline pressed on. "I know my faith in love might appear foolish. I also know it might not be enough. But I'm not doing this because I believe I'll win. I'm actually a little afraid I'm going to lose. I no longer think love is a guarantee of victory or of happily ever after. But I think it's a reason to fight for those things." "

"It was only a flash—but her cheeks felt flushed.Apollo smiled, clearly thinking he was the reason."

MINOR SPOILERS!

"She was safe in her bed. She'd be even safer when he left her. But he was too selfish to leave just yet."

"She was better off not knowing him. But he was enough of a bastard to hate that she’d forgotten."

"He wanted her to look at him, just once, and know him the way she had before."

"I lied," he said. "I do wish that we could have had a different ending."

"And she wanted nothing more than for him to stay."

"He'd said he wished their story could have had a different ending, as if they'd already reached the final page.But Evangeline wanted more pages"

"Bastard. Murderer. Monster.I hate you, Evangeline wanted to say."

SPOILERS!

"She was choosing Jacks.She was choosing wrong."

"But maybe the reason for the warning about falling in love with Fates wasn't because loving a Fate could never work, but because it was so much harder. Nearly impossible."

Yes ,i am a monster.I enjoy hurting people.I like blood.I like pain.I am a monster,but wether you remember it or not,i'm your monster."