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bucca2 · 8 months

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Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

#bucca writes #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #fic:shrike

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amethystfairy1 · 4 months

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✨Hello hello!✨

I'm Amethyst (she/her), and I'm your local fanfic gremlin. I've written a lot for a lot of fandoms, right now I am caught in the Hermit/Traffic/Empires brainrot, and if that's how you've ended up here, welcome welcome!

Right now, I have two WIP AUs!

Through the Sky-Blue Cracks 🌤️

My Hot Guy/Cute Guy, Over-City/Under-City AU that has a lot more going on in it now, it's grown pretty big and is organized in chronological order, not by publishing order, so I write up and down on the timeline filling in parts and pieces as I go!

TTSBC takes place in a modern/slightly sci-fi AU with superheroes, biotech, secrets to hide, trauma to unpack, and as much humor as I can attempt to fit in as well!

Features the local superheroes crushing on each other, anxious writer meets intrepid reporter, the drama professors who can't keep their hands to themselves, penpals gone wild, resident middle-aged married couple who happen to be a mobster and a mad genius, the local cottagecore lesbians, bad boy butterfly and cat lady, protective big sister, Zom-Mom and Sentient Glowstick, a very tired Guy-in-the-Chair with a permanent headache, and more yet to be added! I've got lots of plans left for this AU, so if you're interested, please come check it out!

Tags for the AU are:

#through the sky blue cracks

#ttsbc au

#ttsbc ficlets

Traveling Thieves 🪽

My dark fantasy AU! This one has some heavy themes going on, so I'd encourage reading the tags carefully before jumping in! I'm very proud of how it is turning out, dealing with breaking out conditioned headspaces, survival in a sick system, negotiating power imbalance, the power of friendship (no, really), and of course we've got elves, mercenaries, magic, swords, sorcery, rogues, redstone, and lots more fun stuff like that! Also lots of adorable birbs, one traumatized fiery boy, a mer with an attitude, a good doggo, and hurt/comfort galore! Giving everyone a chance to believe that they've all got a shot at getting lucky.

Tags for the AU are:

#traveling thieves au

#traveling thieves ficlets

Amethysts Scribbling Corner 📝

A little side project of mine to try and stretch my writing style!

Once in awhile, I will be running a poll with prompts that have been sent in via reblogs, replies, asks, and messages! Please send some in if you have any ideas!

Whatever prompt wins the poll, I will write and add to the series!

They can be as broad as a simple one-word prompt, or you can even give a brief description of a couple of sentences! Last thing: Feel free to request where you want the fic to take place! Especially when we're talking Hermit/Traffic/Empires stuff, if you want it to be within the Minecraft server world of that specific series, within a certain one of the Life Series, a modern AU, a fantasy AU, or even TTSBC or Traveling Thieves if you have ideas for them! Just know that if anything requested for TTSBC or Traveling Thieves contradicts or maybe overlaps with any future plans for those AUs, I might not be able to accept them 😓

As far as rules go...I do not write NSFW. I am happy to write romance and let things get a little spicy 🔥 but keep in mind I'll always end up fading to black...also no heavy gore, violence, body horror, things of that nature. I am very much a fan of writing whump and hurt/comfort though, so please send those ideas my way!

Tags for the series are:

#amethysts scribbling corner

I think that's all that going on with me right now...so yeah! I use this blog for my scribbling corner prompts as well as asks about any of my AUs or writing projects! I love getting the chance to ramble about my worldbuilding, so by all means, give me an excuse and I will make entire posts about that sort of thing!

Thanks for coming by! 💖

#intro post #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #hermitcraft #traffic smp #through the sky blue cracks #hermitshipping #worldbuilding #trafficshipping #life series #empires smp #traveling thieves au #amethysts scribbling corner

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noyasmashing · 10 days

Note

hi could u write sub kunimi?? i barely see fics about him and this thought lives in my brainrot forever 😭😭😭

YESSSS I LOVE HIM!!

Idk what happened with this one, I wrote it on a whim on the subway…

CW: Gn!Dom!reader, Kunimi being whiny, pegging/anal, cock can be interpreted as strap!

Kunimi emitted a humiliating whine as he lifted himself on your cock. A amused smile graced your lips as you grasped his narrow hips and pulled him down forcefully. The room echoed with the sound of skin meeting skin along with his moans.

It was evident that he was wanted for you to take control, to fuck away any thoughts of his. However, he found himself being forced to pleasure himself on your lap, as a punishment.

Helplessly, Kunimi whined, his half lidded eyes pleading as you teasingly thumbed his sensitive tip. You couldn't help but admire his vulnerable form, flushed cheeks and disheveled hair framing his open mouth, tongue darting to moisten his lips. "Please,"

Gently, you traced your fingers along his cheek, speaking softly to the man above you. "Hmm? Do you want me to fuck you properly?" Your voice held a seductive tone.

He nodded fervently, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment as his erection slapped against his firm abdomen with each movement, and his knees grew weary from supporting his weight.

"Yes! it’s e-embarrassing.." He whined as his hips met yours once more. You couldn't help but laugh at your boyfriend's discomfort, the sound of his complaint echoing in the room.

"Only good boys get rewards," you cooed, matching his rhythm. His body radiated warmth, and a blush seemed to envelop him entirely. He grew increasingly desperate, attempting to synchronize his movements with yours. He yearned for you to pin him down and ravage him, to take control and make sure he couldn't walk for the next few days at least.

"P-please, Y/n, I'm tired.. Just give me the pleasure I need," he practically demanded, his voice laced with urgency. This provoked a snarl from you, causing your hips to freeze in their current position.

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” You asked him sternly, your gaze piercing into his, causing his lip to quiver under your intense scrutiny. Without a word, you effortlessly subdued him onto the bed you both shared, fulfilling his demanding request.

He sank onto the mattress, his disheveled hair enhancing his charm. A plaintive whimper escaped him, echoing the emptiness he felt. A sadistic smile played at your lips as you realigned yourself with him.

He emitted a loud cry as your hips thrusted forcefully into his tight hole. His fingers clenched your forearms for comfort while you drove yourself into him with an intense and unrelenting rhythm.

"Is this what you wanted?" You gasped between breaths, as he struggled to steady himself. But he couldn't adapt to the rapid pace. Instead, he whimpered, "it's too much, too much for me... [name]." As if he hadn't spent the few minutes pleading for more.

You offered him that familiar, unsettling grin as you expertly thrust within him, each powerful movement deliberately striking his prostate and eliciting soft whimpers that gradually transformed into deep moans. Your movements became more fervent, intensifying the pleasure he so desperately yearned for, drawing him closer to the edge.

His back arched naturally, his eyes rolling back in sheer bliss. His body began twitching and jerking rapidly-A tell tale sign he was close.

"Nghh- cum.. oh,, ‘m gunna cum," he managed to utter, his voice laced with urgency. Undeterred, you persisted in your relentless pursuit of his pleasure, slightly adjusting your angle to focus on the most sensitive spots that drew forth the most enchanting moans from him.

You coo’d at his words, in acknowledgment of his words, his angry tip released its load, painting his body with white, sticky fluid. He exhaled heavily, still recuperating from the intense pleasure.

Yet, it was evident that you had no intention of relenting. With a playful smirk, you demanded, "Open up, baby. Let me see that pretty tongue."

#sub haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #dom reader #dom!reader #haikyu smut #sub!character #haikyu x you #sub character #haikyuu fanfiction #kunimi #kunimi akira #kunimi x reader #akira kunimi #dom!fem!reader

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star-captain · 1 month

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Why did Grian think he could be a professor and a vigilante?

Overworked and underslept, Grian (aka the vigilante CuteGuy) finds himself battered in battle. Lucky for him, the greatest superhero in the city- and most dashing, in his own opinion- is there to protect his frenemy.

============================

AKA I too have gotten the ddvau brain brainrot, big thanks to @kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11 for not only creating such a fun, fascinating au, but also inspiring me to post hermitship on my writing account after 5 years in the fandom.

Yall don't know how hard it is to post an ao3 work in the backcountry plz enjoy I feed off praise

#hermitcraft #ddvau #hermitshipping #scarian #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft fanfic #ddvau fanfic #ddvau grian #ddvau scar

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xpao-bearx · 1 year

Text

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 1 HERE

Read Part 2 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

NOTES: The fact that the idea for this part was already causing me such INTENSE brainrot way before I even finished writing Part 2 (which is pretty funny cuz I actually had a TOTALLY different idea compared to how this part is now, but hey my stoopid brain does what it does) 👁👄👁 Anyhoe, I am SO stoked for this (it also turned out quite long)!! It's finally got ✨️smut✨️ which I know my fellow sluts have been waiting for, BUT it's not the actual sexy sex yet cuz I'm saving that for the last part. Don't worry, it'll definitely be worth it~ ;)

BTW there's a part in this where Steven recites French poetry by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore and I used Google Translate for the English, so if the translation is off then I'm very sorry!

And I just wanna thank y'all sooo much again from the bottom of mah lil black heart, like SERIOUSLY! You lovelies are truly spoiling me with all your sweet comments, likes, and reblogs 😭❤️❤️❤️ And I swear that after the unexpectedly huge success of this fic, it made me fall RIDICULOUSLY HARDER for Oscar ISNACC and I have y'all to blame for dragging me even deeper into DILF Hell Heaven. Like, it's actually a problem when I suddenly feel like giggling and kicking my feet while I'm suffering at work just at the thought of him 😂

I also haven't been this confident and motivated in a while, and this is one of the VERY rare times I'm actually updating pretty quickly without the temptation of slacking off and abandoning it. I love writing and this fic is my baby, and it's just so fucking incredible that you guys are loving what I'm putting out, too, so once more: THANK YOU 🥰

Who knows, maaaybe more Moon Knight fics will come out in the future from me and fingers crossed that Moon Knight Season 2 will be confirmed 🤭

And the tag list has been updated! I also included some readers who I thought wanted to follow this whole series, so if you find yourself tagged despite not asking to be then that's why LMAO xD As always, the tag list is open so don't be shy to ask if you'd like to be added on it! ^_^

TAGS: @autismsupermusicalassassin @ungracefularchimedes @pimosworld @ababynova @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @anapnovo-blog @am-3-thyst @harrys-tittie @zukoisbabee @wiltedwonderland @the-ginger-draws @bitchyglitterfox @readingfan @spidey-3 @minigirl87 @wandasupremacy @simba-will-live-on @wavychelle @thepowerthismanhasoverme @blackholegladiator @kittytiddywinks @literalfkinsimp

Part 3: Like a virgin, touched for the very first time

After the flurry of honesty and an insane whirlwind of emotions, you and Steven finally winded down. It was a bit awkward following that, but he asked (well, sputtered) if you'd like to stay. He immediately apologized, knowing that he was overstepping boundaries and he completely understands if you rejected such a mental idea.

But it was late, and there was absolutely no way he was going to let you go home alone especially with the state you're in. And also...

Well, call him a selfish knob, but he just wanted--needed--to be with you.

But you agreed to stay--enthusiastically so. You both were flustered, though sharing a laugh together had all the tension fade away.

Because, truly, you were right where you were supposed to be.

♡•••🌙•••♡

Steven prepared dinner for the two of you, consisting of five-minute vegan mac and cheese courtesy of his microwave then indulging yourselves with the box of chocolates he brought at the failed date for dessert. It wasn't "grand" by any means, but it was the best you ate in a long time.

All thanks to the cute host... Actually, your gorgeous boyfriend.

Just the thought had you grinning like a doofus, the butterflies in your belly now transforming into fucking birds.

Did that make sense? Hell no, but being with Steven absolutely did.

"Love..." Steven's strong arms encircled around your waist from behind, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Make yourself comfortable, yeah? Don't worry, I'll sleep on the couch."

You gasped, affronted, quickly whipping around to face him. "Excuse you, sir, but I have every reason to be worried!" You huffed dramatically. "You are definitely not sleeping on the couch, Steven. And if you still insist that you are, then I'll just join you!"

Steven chuckled, his cheeks glowing pink. He rested his chin atop your head, pulling you closer to him. "The couch is too small for the two of us... So for a good night's sleep, I suppose I have no choice but to share the bed with you, yeah?"

"You say that as if you'd rather not." You pouted playfully, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head against his chest. You can faintly hear the erratic thrum of his heartbeat, matching your own.

"I'm just pulling your leg, sweetheart." He teased, kissing your head.

How the fuck did he ever get so lucky? He thought he was going crazy, that this was all just a dream--but it wasn't. Dreams were never this good. You were right here, right now, in his arms. Wholly accepting him for who he is. Loving him.

And he fucking loved you, too.

"Where's the bathroom, baby?"

Baby. The name made his heart stop for a full second. Heat once again crept up to his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears, his voice not coming out as all he could do was just point towards the bathroom as he stared down at you in a completely lovestruck sort of wonder.

You giggled, blushing as well before leaning up on your tiptoes and pecking his nose. "You go relax, Steven. I'll join you soon."

He watched you saunter off, still glued in place and a hand atop his frenzied heart.

He had no idea how in the world he was supposed to relax, especially now that the situation fully hit him like a freight train. But thankfully, he found his legs moving for him and his body taking the liberty of changing into his cozy pyjamas before climbing onto bed.

He put on his ankle restraint and settled down, covering the blanket over him like some posh Victorian duchess as he laid completely stiff. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, lifting his head and squinting every so often at the closed bathroom and your obscure shadow dancing amidst the light peeking through the tiny crack of the door underneath.

And it was so...quiet. Neither Marc nor Jake has uttered a single peep, which was highly unusual. Either one or both of them always had something to say, regardless of whatever Steven was doing and he was the same whenever they were fronting.

But as of the moment, he couldn't even handle speaking with Marc. Not after what he did. Marc and Jake were his family and there was no doubt that he and Marc will eventually make up, but no one was ever allowed to hurt you--especially now that you two were officially together.

Jake, on the other hand... Well, he was known to butt into Steven's business. But Jake always gave him a good push, and he would never actually force Steven to do something if Jake didn't believe he could do it. Truly, Steven owed Jake for technically setting you and him up.

But besides Marc, Steven was more surprised that Jake wasn't yapping away especially when you were involved. It didn't go unnoticed for Steven the way Jake has...changed. Only when you were around, at least. And despite Jake being the stealthiest of them all, Steven could always feel him silently observing you at work deep within the recesses of his mind.

But Steven never said anything. He just understood--accepted--Jake, and he was sure that Jake knew. But Steven didn't mind it; in fact, it made him feel less alone.

After all, how could anyone ever resist you?

He then sighed deeply, shaking his head. Clearly it was no use just laying in his bed like a corpse, so he sat up and threw the blanket off before grabbing a random book from his bedside table and donned his glasses. But his brain was too muddled, heart still not ceasing its turbulent thump as he couldn't even register the words popping out of the worn pages he has read a thousand times.

"So you wear glasses, too, huh?"

He flinched slightly at your voice, seeing you standing at the foot of his bed. You chuckled softly before your eyes landed on his ankle restraint, raising a brow.

"S-Sorry, it's..." He scrambled for something--anything. "I...I know it's a huge red flag, but I have a...sleeping disorder. I promise it ain't for something, um...sexual."

"No need to make excuses, Steven. I don't think it's a red flag."

'And I wouldn't mind if you used it on ME.' You bit back the risqué words that nearly tumbled out your foolish, needy mouth.

Steven only smiled shyly, putting the book away before he gasped when he suddenly felt something plop down on his lap.

Something soft, warm, and lovely.

"Is...is this okay..?" Now it was your turn to be shy, meeting his gaze tentatively.

"More than okay." He breathed, staring up at you with an awed grin. "Gods, Y/N, you're beautiful."

"Thanks, this is my 'I wonder how I didn't pass out from running the most I never thought I could' look." You laughed. But Steven didn't, guilt clouding his features.

He placed his hands on your hips, brows knitting together and jaw squaring. "I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn't have to do that, didn't have to meet me. I would've hated it, but I would've totally understood if you never wanted to see me again. And yet...I was happy when you did come."

"I'm happy, too, Steven." You assured him, one hand on his shoulder while the other combed through his fluffy curls. "And honestly, I would do it again. If you were in, hell, Egypt--I'd still find a way to you, no matter what."

His expression softened, a smile replacing his frown as he leaned forward and laid his head on your chest. "Please do one favour for me, though?" You kept quiet, patiently awaiting his words. "If you ever meet Marc, punch the prick."

"Baby, I can only slap him! No way I'd ever damage your godsent face." You laughed again, little snorts wracking your body that Steven found so damn endearing. Then he looked up, his chin resting in between the pillowy softness of your breasts.

"Love... Call me that again."

"Baby." You obeyed with zero hesitation, and Steven groaned. A deep, rumbly sound that sent tingles all throughout your body. You lightly tugged on his hair, making his head tip back and gaze locking with his pretty brown eyes that have gotten darker, pupils dilated.

"Baby..." Your voice came out as a pathetic whine, your hand on his shoulder holding on for dear life. "Wanna kiss you."

Like a predator pouncing on its prey, Steven swooped up to catch your lips--only for the both of your glasses to bump into each other.

An awkward beat passed between the two of you before you both exploded into riotous laughter. The two of you fell side by side on the bed, giggling so much that tears sprang to your eyes and your stomachs hurt.

Once you two finally calmed down, you exchanged bright smiles and Steven rolled on top of you. His elbows dug into the bed on either side of you, making sure not to bear down his weight on you. He then took off both of your glasses, setting them aside on the bedside table.

"Shall we try again, love?" But Steven didn't wait for your response, crashing his lips with yours.

It was chaste. Feather light. So much better than what you ever imagined it to be like. Steven's lips were unexpectedly soft, but there was a certain firmness in the way he kissed you. Your eyes fluttered shut, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss.

Steven cradled the side of your face gently, lovingly, as if he was handling glass. Then, experimentally, you nipped on his bottom lip. He gasped sharply, and you slid your tongue inside his mouth.

It was obvious how inexperienced you were, but Steven certainly didn't mind. In fact, it only turned him on even more that you wanted to spend your precious first time with him.

And he was definitely never letting you go.

You moved your tongue uncertainly, small panic brewing inside of you if you were doing it right. All those shows and movies made kissing look so easy; but you were soon snapped out of your thoughts as Steven's tongue tangled with yours, taking the lead as he coaxed you into a lazy, sensual dance.

And that drew a long, beautiful moan out of you. Steven craved more, more, more--wanting to push you to the very limit, a lustful, greedy beast suddenly possessing his body.

But oh, he knew, deep down, that beast has always been there; waiting for the right moment to be released.

Waiting for you.

He then slowly pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting your tongues. Your entire body was flushed, lips puffy and eyes hazy with anguished yearning as you stared up at him. Your hands reached out, clinging on tightly to his black sweatshirt. Despite being on the bed, you felt as if you were free falling into a bottomless pit.

And you wanted to fall--with Steven.

"Steven..." You murmured, one leg wrapping around his waist. "Are you gonna make love to me?"

"No." His reply was instant, levelling his gaze with yours. "I will, but not tonight, darling. I don't have any condoms."

"I...I don't mind..."

A low purr reverberated from his throat. Fuck, were you even aware of what you were saying? Of the sweet, tempting danger it entailed?

He might as well just tie you up, keep you in his apartment forever. With him. ONLY him.

He shook his head, quickly stamping down such dark, possessive thoughts.

"Love." He emphasized through clenched teeth, and you saw the way his inner conflict flickered in his eyes. "Not tonight, Y/N. But that doesn't mean I can't still please you, yeah?"

He pulled your leg off of his waist then pressed his lips to your ankle, electricity coursing directly to where you desired it most.

He never broke eye contact, his lips slowly trailing down the smooth expanse of your leg before pausing at your crotch. He chuckled deeply, ignoring it as he moved to your stomach.

You mewled desperately, wiggling slightly. "Baby." You pleaded, nearly breathless. "Please... Don't fuckin' tease me."

"M'sorry, pretty girl. Just let me worship you, yeah? You deserve it." He hummed, completely unbothered. "I deserve it."

He pushed up your tank top, your breasts spilling erotically and...fuck, was that a belly button piercing?

"First year of college. It was a completely lucid decision." You giggled at his stunned expression. "Hurt like a bitch, but I've always wanted one."

"Looks like I'm not the only one with secrets, then." He chuckled, kissing your belly with utmost tenderness and your breath getting caught in your throat. His lips languidly traced upwards, reaching your breasts and burying his face in between them and inhaling deeply.

Now he understood why Jake wouldn't shut the hell up about the way you smelled after asking you out.

His left hand groped one of your breasts, breath stuttering at the wonderful plushness. Then he raised his head, eyes locking intently with yours once more as his tongue flicked your pert nipple. You whimpered for more, more, more--back arching as you eagerly offered yourself to him.

And he just as eagerly accepted your gracious offer, mouth latching on to your nipple. You moaned as he sucked and squeezed, his teeth grazing slightly against the sensitive bud, only magnifying the maddening sensations you had no control over yet had the privilege to be a willing victim to.

He pulled away with a resounding 'pop' before giving your other breast equal devoted attention, his right hand making its descent lower, lower, lower--slipping inside your shorts and his chest blazing at the dampness that greeted him.

"Bloody hell..." He grunted, erection straining painfully against his pyjama pants. He glanced down, his much larger hand cupping your entire pussy. "Wanna fucking taste you, angel. Can I? Please, love, I wanna taste your pretty pussy."

"Y-You don't even have to ask..." You squeaked, completely scarlet from head to toe. "Just take me, baby."

Steven grinned wolfishly, a gleam in his eyes that you've never seen before making your heart skip a beat. Without wasting another moment, he practically ripped your shorts off. He groaned as he saw the wet splotch in the middle of your panties, yanking them down your legs before bringing it up to his nose as a shiver ran down his spine at your intoxicating scent.

Your arousal was flowing down to your thighs, eyes glazed over as if in a trance as you watched Steven sniff your panties like a beast in heat. Then he shimmied out of his pants, your eyes widening as his cock stood proudly; thick and veiny, the tip an angry red and leaking with pre-cum. His fist, still clutching on to your panties, wrapped around his cock as he leaned down to meet your pussy.

Instinctively, you snapped your legs shut, hands flying to your face.

"I-I'm sorry!" You sobbed, briskly shaking your head. "I'm sorry, so sorry! I...I can't, Steven..."

You expected him to be furious, and honestly you'd understand if he was. What you didn't expect, however, was him gently removing your hands and tenderly kissing away your tears.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, love." He assured, his hands massaging soothing circles on yours. "What's the matter? You don't want to continue?"

"I-I do, it's just..." You sniffled, blinking away tears and meeting his concerned gaze. "I'm...I'm embarrassed, Steven. It's just... Y-You know it's my first time, and you're doing amazing, it's just...I'm scared I'm not. I...have no idea what the fuck to do, and I'm not even pretty."

"That's not true." His voice was firm, jaw ticking resolutely. His brows furrowed, expression the most serious you've ever seen it. "You're bloody gorgeous, Y/N. I'm the git who doesn't know what the hell you see in me. And don't fret about being inexperienced, love. I'm so happy that you wanna be with me, and if you'd allow me, I wanna spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

You stayed silent, then your lips curved up into a dazzling smile that had Steven utterly weak in the knees. What the hell were you so anxious about, anyway? This was Steven Grant, the man of your wildest dreams. The man you loved.

"I love you, Steven."

Steven froze, tears prickling his eyes. Something between a sob and a chuckle escaped him, positively beaming down at you.

"I love you, too, Y/N."

He then parted your legs, hands quivering slightly. "I love you..." He crouched down, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. "...so fucking much." His tongue darted out, licking the beautiful stretch marks that lined the supple skin of your thighs.

His tongue slowly wandered up, up, up, and you were scarcely breathing once his face was in front of your cunt. His hot breath fanned against your clit; dark, nearly black eyes fixed on yours.

"Quand je vivais tendre et craintive amante..." He recited in French, smiling up at you. "...avec ses feux je peignais ses douleurs."

When I was a tender and fearful lover, with her fires I painted her pains.

You had noticed earlier the French poetry books stacked on Steven's desk, but goddammit you didn't expect he would quote one while he was right in front of your pussy.

You were sure this absolutely sexy menace of a man was trying to murder you.

His thumb then brushed against your clit, making you gasp. He grinned widely, pushing down on your nub as you whimpered and squirmed helplessly.

"Baby..." You begged, tears pouring down your pretty pink cheeks, and there must be something severely wrong with Steven to find it so enticing. "Pretty please... Fuck me with your mouth."

And how could he ever say no to that? He was merely a loyal, desperate slave for his goddess' wishes. For her love.

And so, like a parched man in the desert, he buried his face in your sopping pussy. You yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sudden--but very much not unwelcomed--intrusion into your deepest, most intimate part.

Steven's groan of appreciation vibrated within your gummy walls, inching ever so deeper, feeling his nose hit a bundle of nerves. Then his tongue licked a long, slow stripe along your mound and up to your clit. You cried out, a broken, pornographic song that echoed throughout Steven's entire flat.

"Gods..." His voice was low, trembling; one hand yet again wrapping around his aching cock, the flimsy fabric of your panties hugging the tip. "You've no idea how much I dreamt of this, Y/N. Waited for this." His other hand settled on your pussy, deft fingers running along your drenched folds. "Such a good girl, tastes so fucking good."

He puckered his lips, kissing your pussy. And the sounds that accompanied were downright filthy, Steven moaning shamelessly, loud squelches and the heady smell of your sex filling the air.

Slowly, carefully, he thrusted a finger inside of you. You keened, your thighs squishing Steven's head and your hands gripping onto his hair. He then added another finger, scissoring his digits and you knew right then and there that you were losing what's barely left of your fucking mind.

You grinded against him, and he bobbed his head zealously in perfect tandem with you. His tongue lapped up and down, up and down, before suddenly driving it inside your hole.

He was rubbing his cock vigorously, watching you, burning this marvelous moment for all eternity into his memories. And as soon as a third finger slipped in, you were fucking gone.

You screamed, finally reaching that peak and falling over it, seeing stars. You gushed around his mouth, and Steven noisily slurped it all up, not daring to leave behind a single drop.

He soon followed, grunting animalistically as his cum sprayed all over your panties. He collapsed against your pussy, in between the heavenly plushness of your thighs, panting raggedly.

Neither of you knew how long you both stayed like that, coming down from your high, until you sliced through the serene silence.

"Wow... Just...wow."

Steven chuckled breathlessly, looking up at you with your wetness glistening on his lips and chin. "Wow, indeed." He then leaned forward, and you gasped as his lips suckled on the skin right next to your clit, claiming you with a dark purple mark.

"You'll be the fucking death of me, Steven Grant." You groaned playfully, pulling on his hair.

He grinned, crawling over your body before moulding your lips together in a passionate liplock. His tongue entwined with yours and you could taste yourself, your brain short circuiting.

He slowly drew away, gently knocking his forehead against yours as his grin grew impossibly bigger.

"I'll make love to you at the Field of Reeds, then."

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yanderes-galore · 8 months

Note

Transformers Prime Yandere! Optimus Prime concept?????

Sure! I can see what I can do :) This isn't a specific plot or anything it's just me doing a thought dump! I hope the way I write him is good because I love his character but may butcher him as a yandere-

Not fully proofread! You get RAW brainrot.

@trashysimpaa gave me inspiration here and @agentsquirrelsgotrobots gave the idea of including a small Orion Pax section.

Yandere! TFP! Optimus Prime Concept

(Ft. a small part about Orion Pax)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Violence, Isolation, Kidnapping, Forced companionship, Cybertronian/Cybertronian pairing and Human/Cybertronian pairing mentioned.

Optimus Prime, a leader of the Autobots, would definitely be protective like most Autobot yanderes.

He'd be protective of his darling if they were a human or an Autobot.

To him he feels he's responsible to keep those he cares about safe as a Prime.

If his darling was a Decepticon he'd try his best to convert them since he'd be one to believe they're just confused/on the wrong side.

I feel Optimus couldn't hate his darling even if they were on another side.

For the sake of keeping this concept easy I'll focus primarily on an Autobot/Human darling.

Despite appearing stern and serious, Optimus is incredibly caring and considerate of his darling.

He tries to do the right thing and corrects himself if he makes you feel uncomfortable.

Optimus wants to make you feel comfortable around him above all else.

While he may feel conflicted about bending the rules or doing something "wrong" at times, he tries to tell himself it's to keep you happy.

I can't see Optimus as a very violent yandere unless you're hurt.

Even then he has a higher chance of being violent towards Decepticons compared to humans or other Autobots.

He's a yandere who has morals and does mean to do the right thing.

He just feels he can bend things a little to keep you safe.

Optimus could be a stalking yandere but it would be more common if you were human.

If you were a human then Optimus could check in on you after his night patrols.

Don't mind him too much when he looks through your window... he just wants his human safe.

When you are a human like most Autobots he may drive you around but would not do it frequently similar to Ratchet.

He'd be very careful and promises to drive you back to base if a Decepticon or other threat shows up.

Optimus has no need to stalk you if you were an Autobot.

If I'm correct Autobots already can track each other and Optimus would either keep you at base or go on missions with you.

A Decepticon darling gets trickier because he'd have to some how orchestrate a way to meet you one on one.

Stalking is nearly impossible because he needs to stay with his team.

Going back to what I said before with Optimus and violence, I don't see him as one to kill.

Even if a Decepticon was trying to hurt you he'd probably incapacitate them but not put them offline.

If a human was a bit too close for comfort then he could manipulate them away while being subtle about it.

If an Autobot was causing some issues then Optimus would encourage you to ignore them and only focus on him.

He isn't a jealous yandere and isn't the most demanding.

He's like a guardian regardless on how he feels about you.

Just to talk a little about this, his feelings may carry over as Orion Pax.

Be you Autobot, human, or Decepticon... he feels a strange connection to you.

When Megatron tries to take him in due to Optimus's lack of memories, you're requested to come with.

Orion isn't sure why he wants you to come with, especially if you're and Autobot or a human, but Megatron relents to keep the illusion going.

Megatron gives you to Orion if you are a human companion/pet.

If you're an Autobot you're sent to a cell for Orion to see occasionally with supervision.

If you're a Decepticon then Orion can see you whenever because you most likely will be going along with Megatron's plan.

As Orion he's much more timid and not quite like how he used to be.

He's trying his best to know why he cares for you so much but can't quite get there.

For some reason he's soft around you and chats with you whenever he can.

Megatron is fine begrudgingly as long as you keep him believing he's Orion not Optimus.

Orion finds himself turning to you for a lot of things if Megatron is not around.

He asks you to help him with his memory loss regardless on if you can help or not.

It's actually really odd to see him in such a clueless and timid state.

I can see Optimus/Orion feeling bad when he remembers who he is.

If you're a human you were probably subjected to so much fear.

If you're an Autobot you were locked in a cell the whole time, probably interrogated when he was not there.

With you as a Decepticon not much changed except he learned more about you.

Perhaps even learning you're not a devoted Decepticon.

Optimus may kidnap but he'd disguise it to convince himself what he's doing is okay.

He doesn't have to kidnap you as an Autobot.

A human or Decepticon darling are more likely to be subjected to this.

If you're human then he tries to convince you your home is targeted by Decepticons.

You'll be in danger if he doesn't move you.

If you're Decepticon he captures you because he feels you can change.

He knows deep down you can be an Autobot if you just try.

He'll encourage you.

Optimus may make his darling second guess themselves on certain things if it keeps you protected and in his care.

What do you mean what he's doing isn't keeping you safe?

He knows what he's doing! You're just naive....

I want to think Optimus can be affectionate.

He's shown being caring towards Arcee in the show so I feel he'd be similar to his darling.

If darling's an Autobot he can be more physical with affection since you're both Cybertronian.

If you're human he has to either use a holoform or be very careful.

You're fragile... he could hurt you easily.

If you're a Decepticon it's similar to Autobot but with more... restraints.

Optimus is a yandere who tries to be the beat for his darling.

As an Autobot and a Prime, one who must protect Cybertron, Earth, and Humanity, he feels he's the best bot to protect you.

You may question him and his methods, but his motives are the same.

In the end he'll always be there for you when no one else can...

Even if you grow to hate him due to all the isolation.

#yandere transformers #yandere transformers prime #yandere optimus prime #yandere tfp optimus prime #yandere orion pax #yandere tfp orion pax

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jessamine-rose · 2 years

Text

˚ ༻✿ Herbarium ✿༺ ˚

I would like to blame @bye-bye-sunbird and @yandere-romanticaa for my descent into Capitano hell. All I could do was write my longest fic in hopes of purging the brainrot……yeahh so pls enjoy my humble contribution to the Capitano agenda ;-;

Thank you so much to my dear friend @diodellet for peer reviewing this and helping me out with the Genshin lore!! I delighted in watching you suffer ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, violence, blood, murder, psychological trauma, mention of child abuse, spice, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader described as physically weak and smaller than Capitano, this fic will most likely be considered OOC in a few years

♡ 10.1k words under the cut ♡

i. dandelion

You adore dandelions for the same reason that you despise them.

A tiny flower symbolic of love and freedom. The ethereal ghosts of golden petals adored even—or perhaps only—after losing their vibrant, sunlike forms. A soft blow is all it takes to breathe new life into the flower, for the seeds to embark on new journeys in a scatter of liberated parachutes and hopeful wishes.

Not all dandelions have the fortune of finding new homes, however. Some are plucked for human purposes and imbued with new value as sentimental gifts. Many are transformed into entirely different products such as food and wine. Others are simply forgotten, doomed to remain in their original area until death finally claims them. Regardless, dandelions are transient like any other flower and will eventually disappear from the world.

Your flowers are deprived of that fate.

The meadow is deserted again. Most of the dandelions are gone, either plucked or dispersed, but you are able to find an untouched patch of puffy white clouds. The seeds shift ever so slightly in the wind but remain anchored to their florets.

You choose two promising puffs and snip the stems.

The dandelions land on the pages of your notebook. You cover the flowers in parchment paper and slam the book shut.

A twig snaps.

Your first instinct is to protect your notebook. You hug it to your chest and turn around, preparing for the worst.

The source of the noise is easy to spot. At the edge of the meadow, just a few feet away from you, stands a tall, imposing figure. His face is completely imperceptible within the black void of his mask. The only physical feature you can deduce is long black hair. He has a Vision.

He doesn’t say anything. But the nod in your direction is proof that he has seen you.

His menacing appearance…have the Knights of Favonius introduced new uniforms? No, his armor does not bear any familiar crests or designs. A foreigner, perhaps?

You clear your throat. Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Are you here for the Windblume Festival? The festival ended yesterday.”

“I have other business in Mondstadt.”

Definitely a foreigner. He has a somber voice.

“You chose a good time to visit this meadow,” you tell him. “It becomes a popular place for flower-picking during Windblume. I had to wait for the festivities to end before I could revisit.”

He doesn’t enter the meadow. “You did not pick flowers for the festival?”

“No.” You glance down at your notebook. “I have no one to offer flowers to.”

“Not even to the Anemo Archon?”

“Not even to Barbatos. I don’t make offerings to any gods, for that matter.”

What difference would it make?

The stranger is silent. Either he is caught off guard by your sudden curtness or he is the type to avoid meaningless chatter.

You sit down and face the dandelions, effectively ending the conversation. The stranger walks away and peace is restored in the meadow.

ii. windwheel aster

The stranger is standing in your meadow.

The meadow, you correct yourself when you first see him. It is not your private garden.

He is a dark shadow against the colorful flowers. If he were less considerate, he could easily stomp on them and leave crushed petals in his wake.

He has a companion, a masked person of average height. Judging by their lowered head and the nervous Sir’s leaving their mouth, they must be a subordinate.

The subordinate’s Vision flares as soon as they notice you. But one nod from your acquaintance convinces them to let you enter.

You walk past them and sit under your favorite tree, whispering a hello as the barest of acknowledgements.

Neither of them approach you.

You open your bag and take out your library book. Lisa had recommended a collection of dark fairytales, perhaps as a last-ditch effort to socialize with her coworker. You have to give her credit for taking note of your favorite genre.

One of the pages is torn.

You read it anyway.

You hear two sets of footsteps. The noise gradually softens until it is completely muted by the rustling of leaves.

You look up from your book. The strangers have left.

✿ ⚘

Growing up, you had been partial to parallel play. It was the most efficient way to share space with your roommates after too many failed attempts at bonding and sharing toys. None of you could have been judged given your limited personal belongings.

You and your mysterious acquaintance have wordlessly entered a similar agreement.

You continue your daily routine of reading in the meadow after work. Every few days, the stranger walks past the meadow and stays there for a few minutes. Neither of you approach each other.

A week after your first meeting, you find a windwheel aster with only four petals.

You take out your notebook and add the flower to your personal collection. The stranger arrives.

Why is he here?

Until now, you haven’t been able to discern his identity nor the purpose of his visit. If he is in Mondstadt for suspicious reasons, you likely would have been eliminated during your first or second meeting. And neither has he attempted any form of interaction which could have made a convincing alibi out of you.

His presence doesn’t bother you at all, though.

You glance at the other flowers. There are no more unique plant mutations, so you instead pick a small bunch of ordinary windwheel asters and approach the stranger.

“Would you like one? These are windwheel asters. They only grow in Mondstadt.”

He accepts them. “You come here almost everyday. Are you fond of flowers?”

“You could say that.” You turn around to overlook the meadow with him. “Wildflowers are beautiful and diverse. But you can’t keep them as you do with normal belongings—they die quickly and there is no way to put your name on them. So I try to preserve them as naturally as possible.”

“How so?”

No change in demeanor. But the fact that he asked means his interest could be genuine.

“Here.” You walk closer to his side and open your notebook. “My own personal collection. I just press the flowers in my notebook and label them.”

Your acquaintance leans down to read over your shoulder. The chains of his helmet make soft clinking sounds.

You flip through the pages and provide brief descriptions for each flower. Dandelions, Sweet Flowers, Cecilia, Dragonspine mint. Your collection is small, limited only to the local flora of Mondstadt. By the time you reach the four-petaled windwheel aster, you belatedly realize that you had forgotten to cover the front page.

You had written “Property of ______” in bold letters.

Well, introductions are long overdue.

“It is a peaceful and appreciative hobby,” he finally comments. “Are you interested in gardening or botany?”

“No. I just like to own flowers.”

His tresses brush against your cheek.

“My name is ______,” you whisper. You look up expectantly.

Even up close, his face is perfectly concealed by his mask.

“You may call me Capitano,” he replies.

“All right.” You lower your head. From the corner of your peripheral vision, you notice that he is still holding the windwheel asters. “It is nice to make your acquaintance, Capitano.”

iii. cecilia

Your meetings with Capitano continue. Not much has changed—you still devote time to reading and Capitano leaves when he feels like it. But his company is pleasant. He doesn’t demand much from you and he seems genuinely interested in your flimsy hobbies.

His answers to your questions are vague. But he does inform you that he is based in Snezhnaya and that he is scheduled to leave Mondstadt in a few weeks. That piece of information immediately sparks your curiosity about his region’s local flora and literature.

“I learned how to read in Snezhnayan by myself,” you tell him, “but it is still difficult for me to read the original literature. If it doesn’t bother you, can I please request your help in translating a few pages?”

“It would not be an inconvenience,” he replies.

The next day, you borrow two Snezhnayan classics from the library. Capitano’s manner of speaking is too serious for emotional dialogue and flowery language, but it is still better than your own reading voice.

✿ ⚘

Given Capitano’s seeming disinterest in tourism, you regularly give him pressed flowers to bring home as souvenirs. Mondstadt specialties ranging from dandelions to Small Lamp Grass to Cecilias which you had picked on your day off from work.

“Cecilias grow on Starsnatch Cliff,” he notes during one exchange. His grip on the pointy white flowers is loose, as though exerting any more force would crush your carefully preserved gift.

No, it actually would.

“You need not put yourself in harm’s way for my sake.”

You only shake your head. “I’ve been to Starsnatch Cliff a few times. It is a nice change to my schedule. Besides, I only got attacked by a Whopperflower once.”

“...Your dedication is worthy of admiration.”

✿ ⚘

His silence is more appreciated on your bad days.

During one of your library shifts, your former foster brother visits you to announce the news of his parents’ deaths. Any glee, satisfaction, or indifference is overtaken by the terror of his arrival.

Lisa states that you look “unwell” and allows you to leave work early. But the well-meaning gesture only results in you getting cornered by your gossipy neighbors and falling off your bed from a vivid nightmare.

In the end, you stick to your schedule and go to the meadow.

If Capitano has noticed your gloomy behavior, he is kind enough to not ask about it. Instead, he breaks the silence in your place.

“During our first meeting, you informed me that you do not make offerings to the Anemo Archon and other gods. May I ask why?”

The dandelion patch is empty. How long until the new flowers start growing?

“The gods have never responded to my prayers,” you reply. “No matter how many wishes I made, my life didn’t change the way I wanted it to. So I stopped hoping.”

You glance at Capitano’s Vision. A powerful gift for those worthy of the gods’ recognition.

“Your region worships the Cryo Archon. Are you religious? Has she granted any of your prayers?”

“I fulfill the wishes of the Tsaritsa,” is his cryptic response. “That is my mission.”

“Okay. If that makes you happy.”

Different regions have different relationships between Archon and follower. Perhaps if you had been left in the care of another region, your hope would have persisted.

“Would you like to visit Snezhnaya?”

That question draws you out of your stupor. “What?”

Capitano continues speaking. “Snezhnaya is a land of perpetual winter but there is a certain charm to it. I believe that you would take kindly to the local flora.”

Snezhnayan flowers. You only know a few species from the library books and what Capitano has told you. They are supposed to be resilient plants capable of withstanding cold temperature and harsh weather.

So unlike the flowers of Mondstadt.

You look around the meadow. “I doubt that I would ever get the chance to visit. But if that ever happens, can I depend on you to be my tour guide?”

“The honor is mine.”

iv. calla lily

You almost forget that your time with Capitano is limited. After two months of conversations in the meadow, he suddenly announces his departure.

“My business in Mondstadt is over. I shall leave for Snezhnaya tonight.”

It sounds like a formal announcement coming from him.

“...I see.”

You stare at your bag. You had preserved calla lilies this time. Only the prettiest ones with bright orange petals.

Did you preserve them properly? Will he take care of your gifts?

Capitano is looking at you. Until now, the face beneath his mask remains a mystery to you. If he is saddened by his upcoming departure, you wouldn’t be able to tell.

Would he feel sad about going home, though?

“Here.” You take out the parcel of pressed calla lilies and present it to him with a halfhearted flourish. “I guess this is my final gift to you. Do take good care of it.”

“Thank you.” His hand brushes against yours. His touch is cold. “Your hospitality has been greatly appreciated.”

You only shrug. “There is no need to thank me.”

“I shall do my best to return the favor.”

Capitano’s hand encloses around your wrist.

Tight. His grip is too tight.

The calla lilies fall to the ground.

“Ca…Capitano?” you whisper. “The flowers…I dropped them.”

He is holding your wrist. One wrong move and he could easily dislocate it.

“Could…could you please let go?”

His grip only tightens.

“Your wrist is as fragile as it looks,” he tells you. “So small and delicate. If someone or something were to attack you, I doubt that you would be able to defend yourself.”

Let go. Please let go. Why isn’t he letting go of you?!

“Even mentally speaking, you have a weak disposition. The joy and freedom so valued in Mondstadt is lost on you. If my division were to raid your city, you would be one of the first to accept defeat. I doubt that you would make yourself useful to any resistance.”

Stop talking.

Capitano pulls you forward. It is only a light tug but with enough force to have you crash into his chest. His free hand caresses your face.

“Though it cannot be helped, given your circumstances. And you are far too precious for me to allow any more harm to befall you.”

Just stop.

You slap his hand away from your face.

“Stop! Get away from me!”

Your throat hurts. When was the last time you raised your voice?

He doesn’t even flinch. “I would be careful if I were you, darling.”

“Just shut up! What could you possibly know about me?” you snap.

“Enough to know that you must be handled with extreme care.” At that, Capitano raises your captive wrist and presses down on your pulse. “After all, the Maier family and the Mondstadt Orphanage are to blame for your melancholy.”

Your blood runs cold.

You had never told him about your past. The adoption records should have been burned after you were sent back.

Capitano…who is he? How long has he been collecting information about you?

“This is the first time I have seen you so expressive,” he muses. He sounds almost awed. “It is reassuring to see that you still have an iota of self-preservation left in you, ______.”

“Capitano.” Your voice comes out small. “What…what are you going to do with me?”

He pulls your wrist into his mask. Something soft and warm presses against the back of your hand. A kiss.

“I shall do everything in my power to protect you. And in line with the Tsaritsa’s mission, I vow to create a peaceful world which you may thrive in.”

✿ ⚘

A Fatui Harbinger. You have been associating with a Fatui Harbinger this whole time.

Forget Capitano’s insane profession of love. That revelation was all it took for you to completely give up on refusing him.

A secret mission. His suspicious attire. The subordinate who was ready to eliminate you for merely being in the same space as them. His inhumane strength.

How could you have been so naive?

He only lets go of your wrist once you enter the carriage. The masked subordinates do not acknowledge you; they just bow to Capitano and inform him that your belongings have already been packed.

He knows where you live. Did he follow you to your dormitory? Or was it his spies?

The carriage begins moving. You stare at the empty seat in front of you. You don’t want to acknowledge the presence to your left or the dull ache in your wrist.

Your former foster parents. How did they die again? Their son said that he came home to find the house completely trashed and their bodies lacerated beyond recognition. The Knights of Favonius still haven’t found the murderer. Was it him?

Capitano is completely silent. Giving you time to process your thoughts, maybe. How kind of him.

Capitano is a Fatui Harbinger. He can easily cover up your disappearance. No one will come looking for you.

Through the window, you can see the passing scenery of Mondstadt. The sky is turning dark. The Small Lamp Grass is already in full glow. Will you ever see those flowers again?

He could hurt you if you disobey.

The carriage stops.

Dornman Port is completely deserted. The cheerful sailors and travelers are nowhere to be seen. What you see instead are more Fatui agents surrounding a large ship.

“______. It is time to leave.”

Capitano taps your wrist. The mere action triggers a sharp sting of pain. You can already feel a bruise forming.

Be good. That is all you need to do to survive.

You follow him out of the carriage.

v. sweet flowers

Snezhnaya is too cold.

The region is even more frigid than Dragonspine. Your new coat is practically useless. You are surprised that you haven’t frozen to death yet.

The view from the carriage is just as unwelcoming. You can’t tell the difference between the sky and the ground. All you can see is swirling snow.

“______. If you cannot bear the cold, you should inform me immediately.”

Capitano’s hand rubs your back. The gesture only makes you shiver.

“I’m fine.” You give up on the window view and turn to face him. “Snezhnaya is just colder than I had expected.”

There is barely any space between the two of you. You could easily move to the other seat but Capitano had stopped you. At least it is warmer by his side.

“Mondstadt is blessed with a gentle climate, but Snezhnaya is not as forgiving,” he replies. “You are already in frail condition from the voyage. A steady recovery is preferable.”

Ah, yes. For the majority of the trip to Snezhnaya, you had been bedridden due to a cold and seasickness. Your only consolation was that it gave you an excuse to rest and ignore your captor. You had more time to process your situation and prepare for the worst.

The carriage stops.

“We have arrived. Get up.”

You are quick to leave the carriage this time.

A manor located in the middle of the woods. If not for your situation, you would have been thrilled by the sense of privacy.

You turn to Capitano. “This is…your home?”

“Ours,” he clarifies. You can vaguely make out the puffs of air leaving his mask. “Your belongings shall be delivered shortly. But until then, you must rest.”

No neighbors. No noise. And no chance of escape.

✿ ⚘

For the home of a Fatui Harbinger, the manor is surprisingly ordinary.

You are quick to leave Capitano’s side as soon as you step through the front door. The manor is furnished with only the barest of necessities. Considering your captor’s livelihood, he probably doesn’t spend much time at home to begin with.

But it is warm. Someone must have lit the fireplace before you arrived.

“Capitano?” You turn around, coat in hand. “Can I…?”

He took off his mask.

Capitano simply stares back at you. “Do you need anything?”

He has a human face.

That revelation shocks you more than anything. After weeks of viewing Capitano as a faceless helmet on a strong physique, you had forgotten that he was…likely a human.

The scars are not a surprise. What actually scares you is the look in his eyes.

If looks could kill, it would have been death at first sight for you.

You look away. “I would like to look around the manor. Are there any rooms I shouldn’t enter?”

“All of the doors are open to you.” He hangs his coat and walks past you. It is his next words that make you flinch. “Going outside is forbidden.”

“O…Okay.” You hang your coat and rush to the staircase.

✿ ⚘

The first thing you check are the doors.

All of the doors lock from the inside. To keep people out.

You breathe a sigh of relief and continue your self-guided tour.

A closet at the end of the hall. A few armories. Bathroom. Office. Empty guest rooms. Locked doors. Bedroom.

The bed is big enough for two. One of the closets is empty.

You inspect the desk instead. There is a tall stack of hardcover books, a set of fountain pens, and—most out of place—a single Sweet Flower tied to a glass vial.

Wait, those books…you’ve read them before.

As a matter of fact, you had borrowed all of those titles from Mondstadt Library.

You pick up the heaviest book. Sure enough, it is the dark fairytale collection you had been reading during your second meeting with Capitano. The pages are perfectly pristine.

The contents of the vial are easy to recognize. Sweet Flower cough syrup for your cold. The fresh flower is an unnecessary accompaniment.

You shake your head. They were just as kind to you when you first moved in.

Regardless, you open all of the books and scribble “Property of ______” on the front pages. The cough syrup is treated with more suspicion; you take a sip and wait for any strange effects before you finish the vial.

Lastly, you take your notebook out of your bag and press the Sweet Flower between its pages.

vi. rose

You eventually develop a new daily routine in Snezhnaya.

You wake up early at around the same time as your captor. The two of you eat a silent breakfast in the dining room. Then Capitano puts on his mask and you accompany him to his workplace.

The carriage rides to Zapolyarny Palace are always quiet. To pass the time, you stare out of the window and do your best to hide your shivers, if only to deny Capitano the chance to share body heat. You only speak when you are asking brief questions or responding to him.

You’ve essentially returned to your old dynamic.

As soon as you enter his office, you rush to the window seat and turn to your books. At that point, Capitano leaves you alone so he can sign papers at his desk, deal with subordinates, or train his soldiers in another room. You retreat into the books—either your own labeled gifts or those borrowed from the Fatui private library—and transport yourself to imaginary worlds far beyond your reality.

If Capitano is bothered by your attitude, he is doing an excellent job at hiding it.

✿ ⚘

As it turns out, there is a limit to his patience. You quickly learn that on the day he walks over to your window seat and seizes your book.

“Hey!” You react instantly, standing up to retrieve it. “What do you want?”

“Your bibliophilia has become severe as of late.” Capitano lifts the book high above your head, rendering it irretrievable for you. “Your eyes require sufficient rest.”

That’s mine. “I was already an avid reader before I met you.”

“There is a difference between reading for your personal enjoyment and reading as a means to avoid me.”

Stupid child.

He stares down at you. Despite his mask, you can feel the piercing glare directed at you.

What makes you think that he would just want you to listen and be quiet?

You lower your head. You don’t want him to look at you like that. You shouldn’t provoke him any further. “I’m sorry.”

“The fault lies with me for failing to adequately reciprocate your hospitality in Mondstadt. Forgive me.” Capitano tilts your face upwards. His touch is gentle. “Tomorrow, we may visit the capital of Snezhnaya.”

You blink at him. “Really? I…we can go out?”

“Humans require sunlight and fresh air for nourishment, similar to flowers,” he replies. “Locking you up would have an adverse effect on your physical state.”

✿ ⚘

Your promised tour is nothing special. You can’t tell if it is due to Capitano’s status as a Harbinger, the fact that you aren’t the touristy type to begin with, or the awkwardness between the two of you.

There are also the whispers.

“Is that…?”

“Yes, that is Il Capitano and his wife.”

“They make an odd couple.”

“...pretty…downcast eyes—shh, he looked at us!”

Back in Mondstadt, some had already taken note of your despondency and asocial tendencies. But these observers were limited to your coworkers and neighbors. Despite their noise, they had approached you with nothing but friendliness and concern.

The curiosity of the Snezhnayans is a different matter. To them, you are a mysterious outsider whose frail, melancholy countenance invites rumors of the Captain’s preferences.

And you are to be viewed from a distance, lest they incur the wrath of a Harbinger.

Their fear is not a problem. You just wish that they weren’t so noisy.

The final part of your tour makes up for it, however. The one benefit of living in seclusion is that the woods practically belong to you. The Snezhnayan flowers are bright spots of color in an otherwise dreary snowscape.

“I didn’t know that roses could be found in this region. Or that they can bloom in the winter, for that matter.”

This is your first time to see a real rosebush. The flowers are in full bloom, pure white petals preserved under a layer of glittery frost. Did the encyclopedias say anything about roses growing in Snezhnaya? Could it be artificially planted?

You turn to Capitano, waiting for his explanation. He had let go of your hand as soon as you entered the forest. Perhaps he is confident that you wouldn’t be able to escape.

At any rate, you are grateful for the chance to roam freely and approach the flowers.

He is still standing a few feet away from you. “You told me that you have never seen roses before. How does the real flower compare to the pictures and descriptions?”

“They’re beautiful. The imitations don’t do them justice.”

Mondstadt Library used to be the only place where you could see roses. The illustrations and Lisa’s sculpted accessories had only copied their surface-level appearance.

The petals are too frosty for you to feel their natural texture, but you do feel the sharp thorns through your gloves. You snip three roses, thorns included.

You can hear Capitano’s footsteps. “There are flower species which grow only in remote parts of Snezhnaya. We may visit those places some other time.”

“That would be pleasant.” You can’t help the small smile on your face. “Thank you.”

Smiling has always been difficult for you. But it is easier when books and flowers are involved.

“Does Snezhnaya live up to your initial impression?”

“The flowers are lovely. I just need to adjust to the climate, I guess.”

“Is that all?”

Capitano is standing right beside you.

You look at the roses in your hands. “Yes. You…you saved the best for last.”

The sky is already turning dark. Your tour will be over soon.

You look ahead and continue walking. The road ahead of you is practically infinite; how long would it take to reach the end of the woods? How many flowers are still waiting for you?

Capitano grabs your arm.

The rose thorns dig into your skin.

What did you do this time?

“This is the farthest you can go,” he tells you. His tone has completely changed.

His hand is so cold.

“I’m sorry!” you stutter immediately. “I just wanted to look for more flowers. I didn’t…”

He only sighs. The sound echoes within his helmet.

“You are only allowed to roam the woods under supervision. That is unnegotiable.”

The thorns have ripped through your gloves. Your grip on the roses tightens and another stab of pain shoots through your hands. But it feels better than the sensation on your arm.

“And do not think of running away,” he adds sternly. “There are many dangers in the woods. You would freeze to death before you find your way out.”

“I understand.” You turn around, legs shaking.

His other hand catches your wrist.

The action is even more sudden. A pathetic whimper escapes your throat as you drop the roses, a new wave of apologies on the tip of your tongue.

“You should be more careful when handling the roses.”

Huh?

Capitano lets go of your arm and carefully removes your glove. The blood has already flowed out of your hand and seeped into the fabric.

“Does it hurt?” His voice is softer.

What does his face look like right now?

“Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt that much,” you lie.

“You could get an infection. Your wounds must be treated immediately.” Capitano picks up your fallen roses and puts two in the pocket of his coat. He holds up the last one. “Do you still want this?”

The petals are tinged with scarlet. One could mistake it for a natural red rose.

For a few seconds, you just stare at the ruined rose in his hand. Then you nod.

It is simply a more extreme display of ownership. You just need to be careful when you add it to your notebook.

vii. mint

After four months in Snezhnaya, Capitano leaves for another mission.

“I have business in Inazuma. The mission will last a minimum of two weeks.”

“I see. Good luck.”

What kind of business? At least two weeks?

You stop yourself from asking.

Your captor is in charge of the Fatui’s military division. While his business in Mondstadt was relatively diplomatic, he will most likely be fighting in Inazuma. You don’t need to know about the many ways he could end a life with his bare hands.

Capitano is packing his bags. He isn’t bringing much aside from clothes and weapons. “I assigned a guard to watch over you. She will be in the manor at all times.”

So much for two weeks of privacy.

He looks up from his luggage. Examining your face for any reaction, most likely.

Stop complaining.

Having a supervisor is nothing. He could keep you locked up in the bedroom with only basic necessities. He could bring you to Inazuma and the company of the Fatui soldiers. He could do worse.

It is a good thing that you had given up on escape. If not, your disappointment would have been too obvious.

“Would you like anything from Inazuma?” he finally says. “They have an impressive selection of souvenirs.”

You glance at your desk.

Earlier this morning, you had rearranged your books—by color, your preferred system of classification—after new reading material was delivered to the manor. Your notebook is open to a page filled with newly-pressed flowers.

He is always giving you gifts. Even if it is his way of showing affection, you don’t want it. You aren’t used to owning so many wonderful things.

You hug your pillow to your chest. “Flowers. You don’t need to go out of your way to purchase any. Just pick any flowers growing in your workplace.”

You can hear the clink of chains. Is he nodding? “I shall pick only the best for you.”

Two weeks. Two weeks away from your captor. It has been so long since you last had a full day to yourself. A part of you feels anxious about the return to your old routine.

“Will you miss me?”

He pauses.

Huh, you are still capable of speaking out loud at the worst times.

The pillow suddenly looks extremely appetizing. But before you can lower your face and muffle your screams, your head is tilted upwards.

You and Capitano are at eye level. The hand on your cheek feels warm.

He is still wearing his mask. You actually prefer seeing him wear it. When his face is concealed, the way he looks at you is a well-kept secret.

But now, sitting on the edge of the bed with Capitano kneeling before you, you can’t help but wonder. What kind of expression is on his face? Is he shocked? Annoyed?

“There is not a single moment when I do not think of you or your safety,” he tells you. He reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. “Let these be your words of comfort until I return to you.”

✿ ⚘

Your guard is absolutely unbearable. Because of her, you actually find yourself looking forward to Capitano’s return.

“My lady, it is almost midnight. Is it difficult to sleep when your husband is away?”

You ignore her. Ceres repeats her question.

How did she get assigned to this job?

The Fatui are only marginally better than the Snezhnayans. They rarely approach you or even look at you. Such convenience had been attained the hard way, unfortunately.

On your first day in Zapolyarny Palace, you bumped into a soldier in the corridor. Despite you being the one who fell from the impact, they got angry and questioned how “a clumsy weakling like you” was allowed inside Fatui headquarters.

In the middle of their tirade, Capitano left the adjacent room.

It was later rumored that a soldier had passed out in the middle of training. Something about the Captain using them as a live dummy for combat demonstration.

Then there was the Eleventh Harbinger. Capitano had attended an appointment with his fellow Harbingers—a rare gathering, apparently—so you had to wait outside their meeting place. When the door finally opened, Tartaglia was the first to leave.

“Oh? You don’t look like you work here,” he said, walking over to you. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Were you listening in on our conversation, little mouse?”

“Um…” You took a step backwards. Were you allowed to speak to him?

“Tartaglia.”

Capitano had exited the room. His hand was on Tartaglia’s shoulder. “For what reason are you troubling my wife?”

“Oh? Is that who you are?” Tartaglia’s eyes lit up. “My apologies! You are different from what I had imagined.”

Capitano’s hand was still on his shoulder. His fingers sunk into the black fur of Tartaglia’s coat. “______, we are leaving.”

He walked away. You followed him.

Tartaglia’s voice echoed into the hallway. “I hope to see you again soon, Capitano! And you too, ______.”

Capitano put his arm around your shoulder. You didn’t resist.

The worst case was those two petty recruits. You had just wanted to read peacefully in the library, but they were chatting so loudly that you could hear them all the way from your secluded corner. And their table was a mess of half-opened books.

On instinct, you shushed them and told them to return the books properly.

That sealed your fate. They thought you were the librarian’s assistant and began visiting your spot in the library just to ruin your reading time. You only put up with their behavior because it was still better than reading in Capitano’s office.

One of them put their hand on your shoulder and laughed when you immediately flinched. The next day, Capitano told you that you were staying in the manor.

A nervous guard kept watch over you. When Capitano came back from work, there was blood on his clothes. But the ensuing interrogation was even scarier.

You were no longer allowed to read in the library after that.

“My lady, can you hear me? Hello?”

Could Ceres be a spy of some sort? Is she attempting to gain your trust and secrets? Or is she supposed to keep you too preoccupied to think of an escape plan?

You look up from your notebook. “Ceres, is it bothersome living away from home to watch over me?”

“Hmm, not at all. It’s just that my family misses me.” She adjusts her mask and smiles at you. “My parents are always sending letters and packages from home.”

“That must be nice.”

You return to your notebook. Your collection of mint flowers fills the two pages, light blue flowers and green leaves pressed perfectly flat. You try to ignore the ones with yellow leaves.

What is Capitano doing right now?

He could be fighting a battle at this very moment. The thought of him in action, covered in blood, completely unrestrained…you don’t want to visualize that.

At least his violence serves a larger purpose ironically associated with peace. You should be thankful that it isn’t mindlessly directed towards you.

Ceres is not satisfied with your brief acknowledgement, unfortunately.

“Everyone is curious, my lady. How did you end up with the Captain? No offense but considering the contrast between the two of you…what did he see in you?”

What was it, anyway?

“None taken. I don’t know, either.”

What does he gain from you, anyway? A trophy wife? A bed-warmer? A babymaker?

No, if he had wanted an empty marriage from the beginning, he wouldn’t be hiding you from the world. Protective moments aside, he scarcely touches you.

Maybe he just pities you. Maybe he wants something to protect.

In that case, he will tire of you eventually. Judging by his trip to Mondstadt, he could have all the time in the world to meet an unfortunate Inazuman and forget about his despondent little wife.

Then what would happen to you?

Best-case scenario, he sends you back to Mondstadt and you go back to your days of barely living. Or he could simply leave you to the cruelty of the Snezhnayan blizzards. Or dispose of you entirely. The world would not give you a second chance.

Ceres is still speaking. Something about love and home and family and aren’t those such wonderful things to have?

No, Capitano is nothing like them. He doesn’t hurt you. He said that he thinks about you often. Despite your refusal to return his feelings, he remains patient.

But it is for those same reasons that he couldn’t possibly be satisfied with a mere decorative flower.

✿ ⚘

You have a new roommate. Another adorable little brat who catches the eyes of all the prospective parents.

She takes over the garden behind the building. Your garden, the flowers you had planted and nurtured for as long as you could remember. She plucks the dandelions and blows away the seeds, turning your garden into a barren patch of soil.

The matron doesn’t help you. “It is not your private garden, ______. Can’t you share?”

Share your room. Share your toys. Share the flowers you had poured all of your hope and wishes into.

The ground collapses beneath you. You fall into a bottomless pit and the matron only watches.

You wake up in cold sweat.

The room is still dark. You can hear Ceres humming in the hallway.

The first thing you check is your notebook.

Your flowers are all safe.

You breathe a sigh of relief and return to the bed.

The mattress feels too big. You are used to seeing Capitano’s side of the bed empty—he always sleeps later than you and wakes up before you. But somehow, it feels wrong when the empty space next to you is cold.

viii. dendrobium

“My lady, the Captain has returned!”

You look up from your book. Ceres kneels before the front door.

“My lord!”

So she does know how to be professional.

You remain on the sofa and stare at your book.

Familiar footsteps. The clink of chains against metal.

“______. Have you been well?” He is standing in front of you.

You keep your head lowered. “Yes. Was the mission successful?”

Capitano kneels in front of you and takes your hand. “I would not have returned until we achieved victory. Did you miss my company?”

His glove is cold from the snow.

“I guess.” You look up from your interlocked hands. “How was Inazuma?”

There is a dent on the side of his helmet. But other than that, he looks perfectly fine.

“Inazuma has changed since the abolishment of the Vision Hunt Decree. You would have enjoyed the region.” He turns to Ceres.

She is still kneeling on the floor. It vaguely occurs to you that she will have new questions and gossip material after this.

“Sergeant Fames, you are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” She stands up and leaves.

Just the two of you again.

“I have your souvenir.” Capitano lets go of your hand and gestures to the table.

There are three wooden boxes. You open one and carefully pull out the fabric wrapped inside.

Dendrobium. Three perfect dendrobiums with blood red petals.

“Thank you!” You pick up one of the flowers and twirl it in your hands. The petals and leaves are a vibrant shade of scarlet. You have no doubt that Capitano had an easy time procuring them and you don’t want to ruin the mood by asking. “They’re even fresh.”

“You can preserve them on your own.” Capitano is already taking out the other flowers. “Is my gift to your liking?”

He had even gotten fresh Naku Weed and Sakura Bloom for you. None of them look wilted nor damaged from travel.

“I love it.” You twirl the dendrobium again. You can feel the small smile on your face. “It is absolutely beautiful.”

“I agree.”

Capitano is still kneeling in front of you. You take a deep breath and return the flowers to their boxes.

“Thank you again. Capitano…could you please remove your mask?”

“Pardon?”

You keep your eyes on the table. “You don’t have to. I just want to see your face.”

This is just a way to thank him and show your gratitude.

There is the sound of chains clinking again. His mask joins your flowers on the table.

You look up.

His face is as stoic as ever. You feel small under the weight of his gaze. Perhaps you should’ve gone for his mask instead.

It shouldn’t be difficult.

…

Warm. His lips are warm.

You are quick to break off the kiss. You try to stand up, only for Capitano to quickly pull you towards him.

“You…” His hands are still cold. But at least his grip is light.

“I’m sorry!” You close your eyes. You don’t want to see his face. “I…I just��”

His hand caresses your cheek, preventing you from turning away.

“Open your eyes, ______.” His voice is still calm. That is a good sign, right?

He isn’t angry.

That confirmation alone is enough to make you relax. He cages you in his arms, a gentle look in his eyes.

“If you desire a kiss,” he tells you, “you need only ask for it.”

With that, it is Capitano’s turn to press his lips against yours.

...It doesn’t hurt. Not at all.

You look away as soon as the kiss is over. Your mouth burns. You want nothing more than to pick up your flowers and press them in your notebook.

But will this be enough?

“Capitano.” You have to force the words out of your mouth. “Would you…like to go upstairs?”

Just tolerate it for one night. For your sake.

That is all it takes for Capitano to stand up and scoop you into his arms. You spot the faintest of smiles on his face.

“As you wish.”

✿ ⚘

There are bruises on your hips.

You poke the purplish marks on your skin and wince. Definitely bruises.

How long will these last?

“Does it hurt?” Capitano speaks directly into your ear.

“I’m fine,” you reply quickly. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

The bed is warmer with him in it.

You try not to squirm in Capitano’s arms. He is too close.

“Shouldn’t we get out of bed? You will be late for work.”

“Zapolyarny Palace does not require my presence today.”

So much for escaping The Morning After.

You sigh and flip your body to rest on your right side. You might as well process the full reality of what happened last night.

Capitano has a different look on his face. He looks…relaxed. Peaceful. His gaze is soft.

You glance at his neck. That is when your eyes widen.

Love bites. You didn’t expect your kisses to leave a mark.

His tresses are also tangled. Is it just his usual bedhead or from when you pulled his hair?

You had left your marks on him.

“We should get up.” You sit up, wincing at the chafing sensation in your thighs. “I have to preserve the flowers while they are still fresh.”

“______.” His arm is still wrapped around your waist. “I appreciate the warm welcome.”

No, no, no.

It would have been easier if he was like your previous flings. They didn’t ask you to stay. They didn’t initiate cuddles after the deed was done. They didn’t treat you like glass on a daily basis only to surprise you in the act of lovemaking.

Could you call it that?

You leave the bed and look for your dress. You find it near the door alongside Capitano’s discarded coat. A flash of bright orange catches your eye.

Strange. Capitano doesn’t wear that color.

You put on your dress and glance at him. He is standing in front of his closet, back turned to you. You look away as soon as you see the scratches on his back.

The orange item is tucked into the pocket of his coat. It shouldn’t be confidential if Capitano had just left it there. Upon closer inspection…is that a flower?

You pull it out of the pocket. The flower has been pressed onto a piece of cardstock. It doesn’t look like a flower from Inazuma.

As a matter of fact, it resembles a calla lily.

“______. What are you doing?”

Capitano’s shadow looms over you.

Didn’t you drop it on the day he kidnapped you? Did he ask someone to retrieve it?

“You took good care of your gift," is all you can say.

ix. whopperflower

It has been colder in Snezhnaya lately.

“My lord, I—oh! Um…I have a report from the Jester regarding your next course of action in Fontaine!”

You don’t blame the secretary for staring. You are sitting on their superior’s lap, after all.

As it turns out, parallel play can be performed even with your new seating arrangement. While you read your books and try to be as still as possible, Capitano has no problem with continuing his desk work.

He has been more physically affectionate since that dearly regretted night. There are new marks over your old scars.

The secretary reads out loud from their report. You open your book.

You are reading a collection of subverted fairytales this time. A twisted assemblage of tragic happy endings and heroic villains and damsels finding love within their so-called prisons. The first story is based on one from the dark fairytale collection Lisa had recommended to you.

She invited you to the Angel’s Share on your last day in Mondstadt. How would your life have played out if you had finally accepted her invitations?

You can feel the rise and fall of Capitano’s chest. His hair tickles your cheek.

Stop pondering on those what-ifs. She would have left you alone eventually. Mondstadt was your own personal tower.

You can still feel the secretary’s gaze on you. You flip to the next page.

Would that make Capitano your knight in shining armor?

…

That is a horrible analogy. You continue reading.

The room becomes silent.

Capitano feels tense. His hand is gripping the armrest so tightly that you expect the wood to splinter. You look up from your book and the secretary immediately averts their eyes.

Did he catch them looking at you?

The tension in the room is unbearable. Even with Capitano’s face concealed, anyone could tell that he is not merely looking in the secretary’s direction.

“Capitano,” you whisper, tapping his hand. You move to stand up. “I’ll go to the library.”

His arm wraps around your waist and pushes you back down onto his lap. You look up in shock, but he is still facing the speechless secretary.

“Did I command you to stop speaking?” he asks them.

They practically jump. “N-No! Forgive me, my lord!”

They continue speaking. You sigh and return to your fairytales.

✿ ⚘

“Where have you been?”

The air becomes cold. You flinch and close the door behind you.

Your brother is standing in the foyer. “Were you at the library all day again?”

“Yes,” you answer quickly. You lower your head. “Is there a problem with that?”

He glares at you. “I had to do the laundry because you weren’t around. And do you know what Mother said? She told me to redo all of it!”

“And how is that my fault?”

The room spins.

The first thing you register is your brother’s disappearance.

You are inside the closet again. Black ink leaks out of your bandaged wrist and floods the tiny room.

“Brother?” You look around. The door has disappeared.

The ink reaches your waist.

You begin banging on the walls. “I’m sorry! Please let me out.”

The walls close in on you. The ink solidifies.

You are trapped.

Your screams are unanswered.

“______? ______.”

The closet disappears. Capitano’s face comes into view.

You sit up, blearily registering the hands on your shoulders. “What…?”

“You were dreaming,” he tells you. “I could hear you talking in your sleep.”

Another nightmare. You must have been loud for Capitano to free you from your dreamscape.

Your hands are still shaking. You close your eyes and take deep breaths.

Just a dream. He can’t hurt you anymore.

“The Maier son is dead.”

What?

You stare at Capitano. His face is completely devoid of emotion.

“Following your disappearance, he suspected you of his parents’ murder,” he explains. “The Knights of Favonius are no longer investigating his family’s case.”

He is still holding you.

What are you supposed to feel in times like these? Joy? Grief? Fear?

“…I see.” You lie down and face the wall. “I’m going back to sleep.”

He just casually admitted to killing someone. Is that supposed to make you feel any better? Does he expect you to thank him?

Your sleep is dreamless.

✿ ⚘

“______.” Capitano taps your arm. “Are you listening to me?”

You focus on your book.

You don’t want to talk to him. Not after your last nightmare.

He taps his fingers against his desk. “You have been more immersed in your books lately. One may assume that you are using your hobby as a shield once again.”

Just how many people are dead because of you?

“I am not,” you reply curtly. You flip to the next page. “Could you please talk to me later? I am on an important scene right now.”

Your book is confiscated again.

“My—!”

You turn around in his lap. But before you can reach for your book, you are subdued by the light pressure on your waist.

His hand is gripping your waist.

“You are lying,” he accuses, holding up your book. His fingers dig into your flesh. “Chapter III is only the princess’s soliloquy. She does not meet the dragon until Chapter V.”

Your eyes widen.

Has he been…?

You sit properly on his lap this time. Your book is left forgotten on the far corner of the desk.

✿ ⚘

Six months. Two missions. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase, each book labeled with your own name. Glaze Lilies, Qingxin, Silk Flowers, Violetgrass, purple roses, the petals of a Cryo Whopperflower.

“You even asked for a Whopperflower? My lady, your taste in flowers is truly divine.”

Ceres stands closer to you, one hand hovering over your newly-pressed flower. You slam your notebook shut.

“I didn’t even ask for it. He just gave it to me,” you mutter.

Ceres is undeterred. “Even so, Lord Capitano really goes out of his way to pick flowers for you. I can only imagine the ones he will bring back from Fontaine!”

A mission in Fontaine. Another month trapped in the manor with Ceres.

Hopefully, Capitano returns on time.

“Oh, that’s right! My lady, you came from Mondstadt, right?” she asks you.

“Yes.”

“What is it like? One of my comrades has recently returned from the region; he said that the Windblume Festival is ongoing. It has something to do with flowers, right?”

Has it been that long?

“That is correct. We offer flowers to Barbatos and our loved ones,” you explain. “You can choose any type of flower as your Windblume. Most people choose dandelions.”

“What about you?”

“I have never participated in the festival.”

Ceres grins at you. “Well, you are with the Captain now! You could always celebrate the festival with him next year if he has time for a vacation.”

As if Capitano would allow you.

“There is no need,” you reply. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him any further.”

“For once, I can agree with you.”

Cold. You feel so cold.

You collapse onto the floor. Ice spreads across your skin.

What just…

You try to get up, only for a heavy boot to stomp on your back.

“I didn’t expect you to be this weak. This temperature isn’t even fatal.”

Ceres? She…

Ceres crouches down in front of you, Delusion in hand. The warmth has left her face.

“You know, I was really surprised when I first met you. I was expecting—no, hoping—that you would be different. Someone strong. Someone loyal to the Tsaritsa. Even a simple, happy-go-lucky Mondstadter could have been a good source of motivation. But you…what did the Captain see in you?”

Your notebook is on the floor. Ceres picks it up.

No. Don’t take it.

She rolls her eyes as she flips through the pages. “Preserving useless flowers, reading those fantastical books, staring blankly with the saddest eyes one could ever imagine, causing so much trouble for us.”

It’s mine!

Ceres stands up and throws your notebook aside.

“The Captain does not need someone who will make him weak.”

x. windblume

Your prison is too cramped.

Your head hurts. The restraints are too tight. You can’t see anything in the dark.

They didn’t even bother to use a soundproof cell. You can perfectly hear their conversation.

“Are you crazy?! You did what to the Captain’s wife?!”

Ceres’s voice is deathly calm. “Don’t worry. Lord Capitano has only been in Fontaine for two days. By the time he returns, she will be gone.”

“And if he finds out?!”

“Well, our group is only a small number compared to her previous offenders.” Ceres raises her voice. “How many of our comrades have been reprimanded for simply talking about her? How many were punished for ‘crossing the line?’”

There is barely any space inside this room.

“You should have seen him! Il Capitano kneeling before her as though she were more divine than the Tsaritsa herself. I don’t know how I was able to put up with that sight.”

“Don’t kill her yet.” Her companion sounds desperate. “At least think of a convincing autopsy! Why couldn’t you have just staged a common accident inside the manor?”

Please don’t hurt me.

“Well, that wouldn’t be fun.” You can hear the glee in Ceres’s voice. “You should have seen her face earlier. It was the first time I saw her with an expression that wasn’t so downcast or apathetic. She actually looked alive.”

You hear the sound of receding footsteps. Then silence.

The room is too small.

They will most likely make you suffer through your death.

You are alone.

You bang your head against the door but the action only worsens your dizziness.

Capitano won’t be here to rescue you.

You curl into a ball and close your eyes. The only thing you can do is to block out the world and wait for sleep to claim you.

✿ ⚘

The meadow is ruined.

Everywhere you look, faceless figures are uprooting the flowers and digging up the soil. They wish upon the dandelions, voices merging into a shrill cacophony of prayers and proclamations. The world becomes a blizzard of swirling seeds.

Stop.

They ignore you. The meadow decays.

You cover your eyes.

Please, this is all I have left.

Quiet. The meadow is suddenly quiet.

You look up.

Dead. They are all dead. Flowers rise from the bloody corpses and burst into full bloom.

The sight is absolutely beautiful.

A twig snaps.

You turn around.

Capitano is standing at the edge of the meadow, covered in blood.

The screams are what wake you up.

So much screaming. The sounds of weapons and Visions being used. The door shakes with a deafening crash.

You drag your body to the deepest corner of the cell.

What is happening?

Another scream.

“Lord Capitano! What about your mission? Have you forgotten your oath to the Tsaritsa?!”

Capitano?

Ceres is still speaking. You can hear her frantic footsteps and the sound of her activated Delusion. Another direct crash against the door.

A loud crack.

Blood seeps through the crack under the door and into your clothes. The smell of iron is nauseating.

The door opens.

“______!”

Warm. So warm.

The light is almost blinding but it is quickly blocked out by Capitano’s figure in the doorway.

His arms are wrapped around you. More blood sticks to your clothes but you ignore it.

“You came back for me,” you whisper weakly.

He holds you at arm’s length, checking you for injuries. His voice shakes with barely-restrained anger. “Where did they hurt you?”

His touch is so light.

As if he is careful to avoid hurting you. As if he is afraid that just the slightest additional force could spell your ultimate demise at his hands.

“______, can you understand what I am saying?” He tilts your face upwards.

You really can’t see anything beneath his mask.

Your vision blurs.

The tears won’t stop.

You almost can’t recognize your own voice. The sounds leaving your mouth are too loud and you have no idea what you are saying. So noisy.

But Capitano’s response is to hug you and carry you out of the room.

You bury your face into his coat and continue crying.

✿ ⚘

An Anemo healer treats your wounds. They confirm that none of your injuries will become permanent scars.

Capitano hasn’t let go of you ever since he found you.

You don’t say anything to him during the medical examination. Your throat hurts from overuse and any little remark could raise questions which you don’t have the energy to answer.

The walk from the medical tent to the carriage is completely silent. The Fatui soldiers avoid your gaze and Capitano has nothing to say.

He is still carrying you. You can’t tell if he is doing it for your personal comfort or to send a clear message to his soldiers. Maybe both.

“Capitano?” You poke his helmet.

The chains sway as he turns to face you. “Yes?”

“How did you find me?” you ask quietly. “I thought you were in Fontaine.”

He continues walking. “I enlisted spies to check on you whenever I am away. Sergeant Fames was not informed, in the event that you convince her to assist in your escape.”

The pain in your throat returns.

Laughter this time. Your cheeks hurt; are you smiling? You feel absolutely euphoric.

Capitano stops in front of the carriage. He waits for you to calm down.

You take a deep breath and look up again, staring into the black void of his mask. “Could you please put me down?”

“...If you run away, I shall capture you immediately.”

“I know.”

The world around you is completely covered in snow. There are no flowers in this area.

You lie on the ground. The cold is less unbearable nowadays. You think you could thrive in it.

The gods have a twisted way of granting wishes. But so be it.

“Capitano.” You stand up, catching yourself before you trip. “I have something for you. Could you lean down for a bit?”

He relents. “Understood.”

You press your lips against his helmet. The metal is cold but the chilling sensation is soon overtaken by the warmth on your wrist.

You have never felt more safe in his grasp.

“...We should depart.” Capitano straightens his posture and holds your hand. “I was successful in procuring two wildflowers from Fontaine before I was notified of your situation. You can add them to your collection later.”

“Thank you.” You intertwine your fingers and look up again.

The smile on your face is reflected in his mask.

“Let’s go home.”

♡

Author’s Note ๑ Side Story ๑ Epilogue 1 Epilogue 2

Afkdfkdendkwdnwka it took me a whole week to write this and I am so glad that this fic is finally done!! I rlly wanted to write something twistedly wholesome about yandere Capitano with a broken darling, hence having to write this long af fic in order to explain Darling’s character and illustrate her descent into complete dependence on Capitano <3

Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic despite the brainrot and suffering. I hope you all enjoyed this, too (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

#capitano #il capitano #yandere capitano #yandere capitano x reader #capitano x reader #the capitano agenda #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #fatui x reader #yandere fatui harbingers #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #spicy warning #mdni #fem reader #jessamine-writing

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months

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Humble request- (inspired by Asra's section of the m6 with insomniac mc headcannons that you posted previously) Mc accidentally traveling into the m6's dreams. Also I really enjoy your writing!

The Arcana HCs: When MC accidentally visits M6's dreams

~ @cricketchirps you have a marvelous mind and I love how you think! Thank you for the request, it was so fun to write! - brainrot ~

-- to set the scene --

You'll never not love falling asleep next to your beloved. It's the perfect conclusion to every day, good and bad and everything in between. It's the quiet rustle of sheets and blankets, the mundane perfection of a whispered "goodnight", the familiar intimacy of their smell on your nightclothes. Right now, seeing their peaceful sleeping face so close to yours, it's a healing sweetness that cradles you so gently it makes your heart ache. You shuffle a little closer, nuzzle into their embrace, and drift off to the rhythm of their quiet breathing.

Julian

You would know that voice anywhere

It seems you're on a stage - no, the deck of a ship - no, a stage, definitely a stage - and now it's the Coliseum floor?

A look to your right reveals Julian, in his nightshirt, performing some of the most dramatic improv you've ever seen to an increasingly enraptured audience. Is this why he talks in his sleep?

"I shall fight thee, foul beast!" he roars, and in the blink of an eye the stage is a pirate ship heading towards a hideous sea serpent wearing Valdemar's cloth-wrapped horns

The crowd's wild cheers cause Julian to draw up short, flicking his head around with a roguish smirk. "Let's see how it fares against this!" And the serpent transforms into one of those blow-up tube men frequently seen at car dealerships

He whips out a cutlass, the stage lights somehow glinting off it in slow motion, and thrusts it repeatedly at the enemy, comically missing the mark each time. You can't help but cackle along with the crowd

The sound of your voice pulls Julian's attention to you and now he's striding across the stage, taking your hands in his and kneeling bare-legged in front of you as the ship becomes a moonlit garden

"MC, my beloved, my darling, my dearest" He's pressing noisy kisses to your wrists, watching you blush at the sound of thousands of quiet "awww"s from the still present audience

You laugh again and gently tug your hands away. "I didn't know you had dreams like this, Julian."

And that's when he goes pale. "Wha - MC? The real MC? How are you - how are you here, I don't understand, is this even safe?!"

His panic is directly affecting both the audience and the stage, your surroundings flipping between boats and taverns and loud storms and chaotic crowds, until a faraway shout wakes you both

You open your eyes to see a wide-eyed Julian, tangled in his sheets, soaked in a cold sweat, startled awake by the increased volume of his own sleep-talking

"Julian? Are you alright?"

He turns to you wide-eyed, sending you a sheepish grin. "Let's - ah - let's pretend that didn't happen. Oh, and MC? Maybe warn me next time?"

Asra

You know where you are as soon as you open your eyes. Nobody else you know could effortlessly dream up a place like this

There's a tie-dye sky slowly wrinkling above you, you're standing on a floor of multicolored orbeez, the air feels like fizzy sherbert on your tongue, and thousands of tiny Faust flowers are kissing your ankles

You take a hesitant step forward and the ground shivers, trees resembling lisa frank paintings appearing in a shower of poprocks

Upon coming closer to one, you see that it has drapes of luxurious neon fur instead of foliage. You run your hand along it, marveling at its softness, when the trunk begins to gurgle and you stop

"Wait! Do that again!" Asra's materialized on one of the branches next to you, lazing happily on the thick fur. "Humor me?"

You let out a startled laugh and slowly comply, running your hand along your branch again. The gurgling increases in volume until the crown of the tree suddenly inflates and releases a holographic bubble with the most obscene burping noise you've ever heard

Asra's smiling at you between fits of laughter, reaching out a hand that you're suddenly close enough to to grasp and pulling you next to them. "Hello, my love. I didn't expect to see you here."

You snuggle into his side, trusting his fearlessness as you begin to sink into what's become a vast field of fuzz. "I didn't expect to wander into your dream, either. Is it always like this?"

They sigh blissfully and twine your fingers together. "Not always. But more and more, as I get practice." You watch in awe as the sky darkens, tie-dye rippling into glowing paint splatters of galaxies. "Do you like it?"

You look over at him and catch his proud, teasing smile. "Are you showing off for me, Asra?"

"Oh, MC." They pull you closer as you plummet down together, the slowly sinking softness giving way to a sea of stars. You float weightless next to them, their curls bending starlight around the two of you

"Surely you know I can do better than that."

It takes a promise to join him again before he agrees to wake up with you

Nadia

The first thing you're conscious of is a dull, repetitive roar just above your head. You don't feel weightless, exactly, but you do feel like you're floating, your feet bearing half the weight they're used to

You look up towards the soothing rush above you, and that's your first glimpse of this place.

Crystal arches meet high above your head, golden specks scattered across the tops like snow, and the sound you're hearing is that of sparkling pink-blue waves breaking over the top

Your eyes slowly trail down the spires, catching nostalgia laden pockets of solitude, and land on a familiar figure. "Nadia!"

She straightens and turns to you, eyes wide. The silver clockwork floor below her whirs to life and begins to click and squeeze the space between you until she's close enough to touch

"MC?" One of her hands trails down your cheek in wonder. "You aren't the MC I see in my dreams, you're my MC. How did you come to be in this place?"

"I don't know." You lean into her touch as the floor continues to whir and click and chime. "Did you build this place?"

She knits her brows and looks out past the crystal pillars, watching the golden specks from the ceiling settle into a beach at her feet. "I did not build it ... but I believe it is my domain to claim."

Her robes shimmer into something lighter and shorter as she steps off of the clockwork and onto the shimmering sand. Her hair floats idly around her shoulders when she turns back to look at you

"Care to join me?"

You reach out for her hand and the golden gear below you poofs into beach. "Is this where you try out new clothing designs?"

She laughs, a floral breeze picking up to pull the hair out of her face, and lightly traces her fingertips from one shoulder, along your collarbone, to the other shoulder, raising an eyebrow at you

"It's worth the view." You look down to see what she's changed your normal nightwear to, and your blush makes your vision swim

You wake up to see her sketching her design for you before she forgets

Muriel

Silence has never felt so vibrant

When you open your eyes you're in something like the Tarske Forest, only, it seems to have folded into a very large square

Looking up gives you the most grounded sense of calming vertigo, because you're in fact looking down at the tops of the trees above you, and further past them to the mossy ground

Gravity feels alive here, like it's taking slow, deep breaths, and the subtle heartbeat beneath your feet holds them steadily to the ground

You start to explore, subconsciously matching your breathing to the intense quiet. You reach the first wall of the forest quickly, where the ground takes a ninety degree angle straight up

One more step, and the world rolls over, what used to be the ground a wall behind you and the wall before you now your path. You hear the forest give a sigh, and then there's Muriel

The silence is too sacred to speak, so you whisper and hope it forgives your impudence. "Muriel - did you make this?"

He takes your hand in his and guides you to sit, a mossy root rising up to support your weight. He's hesitant to speak, his low murmur somehow making the silence quieter. "I didn't build this. It's just ... me."

The verdant sanctuary makes a little more sense now. You look at the tight set of his shoulders and risk another whisper. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

He looks at you in surprise. "How did you get here?"

You answer with a shrug. He averts his gaze, face reddening as he pouts slightly over your earlier apology. "... I guess I don't mind."

The forest cube isn't very pleased with his roundabout answer. Soon enough, the world feels like a roundabout as it rolls again with no warning and you land on top of him in the moss

"I - I'm so sorry," you murmur as you push yourself off of his chest, "I didn't mean to -" and you're cut off as the horizon turns again

"Don't be," he grunts, blushing as he catches himself from crushing you entirely

You wake up to the sound of your rolling lover landing on the floor with a heavy thud

Portia

You open your eyes to pouring golden sunlight and the sound of steel striking against steel. You sit up on your massive, leather-bound book to see Portia sitting cross-legged on an open page

She's leaning forward, eyes trained on whatever landscape is behind you, pumping her fist and cheering breathlessly to whatever the noise signifies

You stand and call her name. "Portia?"

"Yes?" She's blinking up at you, apple halfway to her mouth. "Oh, MC. Take a seat, you're just in time for the 'and there was only one bed' trope."

You plop down on the cushion next to her and scoop some bread pudding into your hand in lieu of a bowl. "What bed are we looking for?"

"That one." She points the core of her pear at the double bed in front of you, two chemistry-laden figures standing awkwardly by a patchwork quilt as the snowstorm rages outside. "Wait, MC?!"

You're pulled back from the enticing scene in time to see Portia's eyes widen comically. She grabs your sleeve in her hand and starts to shake you gently

"What are you still doing here? You usually just float away or join me in the book, don't tell me - are you in my dream?" You nod. "Im so haopy to see you! How did you do that?!?"

"I don't know how I did it. I fell asleep, and here I am."

The smile she sends you makes your landscape of pages glow golden and she tackles you with a hug, knocking you back into the massive printed page you two are sharing

"I have so much to show you! Oh! The detective one first!" The light vanishes and the two of you are standing in a grey drizzle, looking at horses pulling black chariots over a foggy city's cobblestone streets

"Wait! No! The castle one!" Now you're looking out at rolling, heather-covered fields beneath a silver mist sky from an old stone tower

"No, wait!" Portia shouts again, and now you're flipping through more scenery than you can keep track of into oblivion

You wake up to her grimacing with the beginnings of a headache

Lucio

The smell hits you first

Rich food, wine, perfumes, and flowers are already swimming through your nostrils when the noise registers. Thousands of voices, chattering, cheering, and laughing

And in the middle of all the madness, a voice you'd recognize anywhere: "Drinks for everyone! Food for everyone!! Celebrate!!!"

That's your cue to open your eyes. You're in a palace somehow ten times more opulent than the one in Vesuvia, with chandeliers hanging from chandeliers and literal fountains of wine

It takes you all of three seconds to spot Lucio - he's in the middle of it all, calling for delicacies and performances to be rolled out nonstop to the crowd gathering around him

It takes him all of two minutes to spot you struggling through the partygoers, and he lights up immediately. "MC! MC, join me!"

You're suddenly at a table with him halfway up a flight of stairs, an empty place setting in front of you. Lucio's peacocking around you as you try to shout over the noise and explain what's happening

"Lucio, I'm in your dream!"

"No, MC!" He declares with everyone present, "You are my dream!"

It's hard not to be flattered and swept up with the way everyone present cheers for his announcement, but you want to make sure he knows what's happening, so you catch a flying hand and tug

He's immediately drawing you close with a delighted smile. "MC, you want to dance first? Director, give us music!"

But it seems instead of playing the waltz he's hoping for, the musicians sit on their instruments and start singing opera

"Lucio, this is a dream! I'm in your dream, with magic!"

He lights up. "Magic, of course! Begin the performance, my MC wants to see magic!" He pauses in confusion as the orchestra turned choir begins to put on costumes for a play. "Magic? But MC, you're a magician, why would you want to see magic?"

It's the sound of fireworks going off in the chandeliers that wakes you. Lucio leaps off his pillow right after with a surprised grunt

"MC," he says breathlessly, "I want to do that again. Teach me!"

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