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shunsuiken · 7 months

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HOW THE GENSHIN MEN FIND YOU DRUNK

pairing(s). kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, tighnari, kaveh, wanderer x gn!reader

genre. fluff + mentions of alcohol use ofc + reader is a lightweight (welcome to my life guys <3)

wc. 400-800 for each character

an. SOOOOO this was inspired by a cdrama i watched back in 2021 and when i saw it i just HAD to write about it <3 also i think i had a bit too much fun on zhongli’s and childe’s i hope its not so obvious dear god. also??? for some reason the ones i had the hardest time writing for ended up being the longer parts omg

kaeya alberich

after spending some time upstairs with a couple of treasure hoarders who were completely unaware of being thoroughly deceived by the cunning cavalry captain, kaeya decides to head down and run over the knowledge he collected with mond’s famed beverage, death after noon.

but as he walks down the staircase, he spots a familiar figure sitting by the bar. he squints his eye slightly, almost not believing the sight in front of him. is that y/n? on the high stool by the bar? dozing off to only a few shots of liquor? tonight just became even more interesting. now he’s starting to wonder what things you would say under the influence—for no shady reasons, obviously, as he genuinely enjoyed your company and witiful mouth. he’s just a curious man with the goal of unveiling a few other things about you.

he makes a beeline to the bar, setting himself on your right side so you’re in his line of vision. glancing around, he motions for charles for his death after noon. kaeya only turns to you once his drink arrives, quickly giving you a once over. seeing as how it looked like you came to angel’s share after work he might as well stir up a conversation.

your vision is blurry but you can definitely feel the presence of another person beside you. as you lift your head from your crossed arms, your brows crease in irritation. which imbecile decided to disturb your time alone? you’re literally brooding over the fact that captain kaeya would never be yours, so you irresponsibly decided an hour ago that some liquor would magically help you forget your worries.

you’re ready to scare the person off with a glare but what you’re met with is quite literally, much worse (because your glares don’t work on him and also because he's part of the reason you’re in your drunken state).

kaeya chuckles at your expression. “why the long face? it’s just me.”

you rub your eyes, groaning from the bitterness lingering in your throat. of all people, you weren’t expecting him. “you never stop by on wednesday’s. is something up?” you ask drowsily as kaeya watches you pick up your glass, clumsily squinting at the bottom of it to see if there was any more of your liquor left.

kaeya dodges your question, humming, “y/n sweetheart, you look like you’re on the brink of passing out.” he tilts his head, observing your flushed expression. if you can’t handle your liquor, he doesn’t mind taking you back home if it means securing your safety.

“am not,” you reply, turning your gaze to him. it’s all thanks to the alcohol that you can do so when in reality you actually struggle to maintain eye contact with him. “you… you haven’t answered my question yet. why’re you here?” your voice is hoarse and you’ve made enough voice cracks to entertain a crowd, but kaeya finds it rather endearing instead.

kaeya could reply honestly. but this conversation is one to be forgotten after you woke up tomorrow morning. he could lie and you would never know he did, but for a reason unknown the lie he was supposed to tell never left his lips. instead he blurts out the plain truth.

“somebody has to be responsible for you, y’know,” kaeya teases you with a grin but his actions are the opposite of his tone. he stands from his seat, pulling your arm over his shoulders to support your weight even when you attempt to resist his help. he keeps your body close to his so you don’t fall over. hopefully you’re drunk enough to be oblivious of the erratic beats of his heart alongside the cautious and warm touch of his hand on your waist.

diluc ragnvindr

he still can’t believe he has such a massive crush on you. it’s almost embarrassing to let others know about this secret because nobody would expect someone like diluc to have a thing for you. it’s even harder to hide that fact when you’re sitting at a table with venti and kaeya. they’re laughing their asses off at some joke you told them.

“cheers to y/n!” venti hollers, cheeks undeniably pink. “you are paying for this, right?” he leans back down momentarily, making you release another burst of laughter from your lungs at the way he mentioned it. “of course!”

after chatting, you decide to greet the man of the house by the bar. it’s been a while since you’ve seen the master diluc of dawn winery anyway. as you get up from the table to make your way over, you accidentally bump into a crowd of big, brawny adventurers who’ve just arrived.

“oh—!” tripping backwards, your hands fail to find something to keep yourself on your feet before your fall is cushioned by someone.

they hold onto your shoulder as your back collides with their chest. the force from being pushed aside has you breathing unsteadily, and it doesn’t help that you’re pretty tipsy right now too. however, despite how tipsy you are, you feel as though air is sucked right out of your lungs when you spot a tuft of crimson red hair from the corner of your eye.

you stand right up immediately, facing the person you fell onto.

“master diluc!” the dazed and naive look on a drunkard's face normally doesn’t appeal to diluc but this expression on yours actually makes you look rather adorable. your eyes are half-lidded and your smile is lopsided, and oh if he could squish those cheeks of yours-

“uh, master diluc?” you blink, toning your voice down a bit.

“oh.” diluc slides out of his mindscape, paying attention to your words. “yes? would you like a drink on the house?” because if you actually asked that, he would have sent one your way on the spot.

you wave your hands dismissively. “n- no no, not that! i was just asking how you were doing. you haven’t stopped by angel’s share since last month, i thought something was up so when i heard you were here today i…” you trail off, realising that you’re rambling and that diluc probably didn’t want to be greeted like this after taking a month off but when you look back at him, he’s still looking at you (and has been since you fell into his arms).

diluc raises his brow when he no longer hears your voice. but when he sees an expectant look in your eyes, he offers you his arm with a smile. “how about you tell me everything by the bar? that way i can serve you properly.”

your cheeks burn like a wild bonfire as you take his arm, now struggling to find excuses to somehow change the topic of conversation because if you continued your sentence from a minute ago, you would have exposed your secret attraction for the man in front of you.

(funny how you don’t even need kaeya or venti to expose you, you’re already the man for the job!)

diluc senses your sudden nervousness at the invitation. he does his best to bite away at the fond smile making its way to his lips. if he can help calm your nerves then maybe you’ll tell him about how much you missed his company at the tavern.

zhongli

zhongli didn’t know that his late night stroll around the streets of chihu rock would include witnessing your drunk state at third-round knockout. the streets have thinned out and it’s rather late too. he wonders what brought you over to the distinguished tavern.

the curious adeptus makes silent haste to peer over your shoulder. a cup in your hand and your head is lolling over. putting two and two together, you must have had your fill of alcohol for tonight.

zhongli finds himself chuckling before neatly folding his hands behind his back. “i wonder how y/n is faring on this wonderful night?”

your head snaps out of your drunken state momentarily, the coherent cells in your brain recognise that voice immediately but your vision is blurry. so instead of being able to greet the gentleman with dignity and grace, you end up tripping over the levelled bricks below you.

“oh—!”

zhongli is quick to open his arms and catch you, his reflexes still polished despite his retirement as the geo archon. your head bumps into his chest as you grunt at the slight fright. and after regaining your foothold on the bricked ground, it comes to your attention that your body is flat against the man in front of you. more specifically, his arms are wrapped around your waist to keep you steady and your hands are fumbling awkwardly in the air because you don’t know where to put them.

looking up to meet zhongli’s eyes is exactly what you expected but you can never maintain eye contact with him. it’s not your fault he’s so handsome! his kind gesture makes your cheeks warm up, and he probably doesn’t even mean anything out of it but sometimes your mind likes to be a little creative and indulges you in a variety of impossible scenarios.

“archons, zhongli i’m sorry—i didn’t see you i—”

“it’s not a problem, y/n. shall i walk you home?” zhongli offers, voice gentle and non-judgemental, like you didn’t just trip over a couple of bricks.

you shake your head, earning a raised brow from him. “i only live a few minutes away. plus, look at the time, we’ll look weird.”

“holding you in my arms will not make us look weird, rather i believe this is appropriate for us both. don’t you think?” the way zhongli tilts his head to the dominating tone in his voice makes you feel so small.

“i mean—sure but,” you reply, not daring to look directly into his eyes unless you were going to expose your hidden feelings for him. “but i’m drunk. it’s my fault, i can take myself ho—” your words are caught in your throat when zhongli lifts you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the steps and continuing down the street to bring you home.

this extra pinch of boldness is something that lays dormant within zhongli. but it always comes alive when you’re around. he has spent enough time around mortals to pick up the signs of the heart. your reactions to his touch, your flickering gaze and the heat from your face is no brainer. however, he will have to properly communicate with you when you’re sober.

for now, he only hopes that you will disregard the warmth radiating off his neck when you lean in to rest your forehead there.

childe

he’s dancing. dancing to his heart’s content. the band plays the second to last song but the harbinger barely feels like he’s lived up to the heights of the night. he requires more vigour, more energy from his dancing partners. sure, they were all wonderful dancers but he’s really only waiting for someone else to enter his field of vision.

childe knows you’re around here somewhere, you told him personally a week before the ball that you and your father were invited. after all, only the most distinguished noblemen and women were eligible to attend. and you, being the one and only child of one of the leading snezhnayan trade merchants, are an obvious guest on the list of invites.

childe dances, switching and gliding between different and eager dance partners, secretly hoping that the next gloved hand he would take would be yours. unfortunately, for the second to last song, he still doesn’t manage to find you amongst the crowd of participants dancing. so when the music stops he makes sure to return everyone a wave and entertain those who greet him warmly, doing everything in his power to stop the itch of impatience showing on his sweaty face. thankfully, he manages to maintain a calm and composed expression.

childe’s head perks up to a certain sound. amongst the music, the cheers and the clings of wine glasses he recognises a laugh. a laugh, to the extent of his knowledge, only he’s able to get out of you. he brings his wine glass away from his lips, licking the remnants of it from his bottom lip as he captures the sight of you chatting away with other guests.

scanning the guests’ faces, he concludes that they’re harmless thanks to information he was told prior to the event. so he makes his way over, smoothly including himself in conversation just to make an excuse to the other guests to ‘borrow your attention’ for a moment.

you take his arm that he offers you, holding your wine glass in your other hand. childe has always been a gentleman towards you, such a passionate person with excellent manners. you’re almost always guaranteed to have a grand time whenever he invites you out (obviously as friends, which you two have made known to the entire town).

“so ajax, tell me about your journey to liyue—” your throat interrupts your speech with a very clear hiccup. “—harbour.” your cheeks burn, quickly apologising for your lack of manners under your breath.

childe hums, loving how you used the name he told you to use when it’s just you and him. “your grace, are you drunk?” he gazes at your flushed face and how your styled hair looks more undone. he thinks you look better this way actually.

“i might be,” you sigh, wanting to hand your glass over to a butler but childe stops you before you can, taking your glass to quickly down the last sips of your beverage.

“ajax, what are you doing?!” you tap his arm repeatedly with concern, telling him to slow down.

you just got that glass a few minutes ago! but besides that, he’s drinking the wine you just had?! what if his lips touch the part yours did on the glass? not that you mind at all—you wouldn’t dare say that out loud but your thoughts are as clear as day on your expression.

childe enjoys the look on your face, satisfied and relieved that you didn’t show a hint of dissatisfaction. “i’ve not had the honour to dance with you tonight.” he passes the empty glass onto a passing butler’s tray. “shall i have the pleasure now?”

kamisato ayato

by this time in the evening, you, thoma and ayaka are probably done playing the hot pot game. which is alright since ayato knew he would return home from business later than usual tonight, but that doesn’t stop him from checking up on all of you. so when he slides the door open to see his faithful retainer, his sister and you sleeping soundly in the designated hot pot room at komore teahouse, the lord cannot help but stifle a fond laugh.

it then comes to his attention that the room reeks of alcohol. oh dear. that explains why everyone’s blacked out.

“‘yato?” he watches you lift your head from the table. ah, you’re still awake… and definitely drunk. no wonder you dropped the formalities all of a sudden. if you were sober you would have rushed to greet him by the door and refer to him by “my lord” despite all the protests he’s made to call you by his first name instead.

ayato hushes you gently, ignoring how his heart skips a beat at the mention of his first name leaving your lips and sits himself beside you. he’s almost taken aback by how you immediately lean onto his body for support. he knew you were an affectionate person but you normally asked before proceeding with anything just in case he felt uncomfortable (surprise! he never did). so seeing this side of you is rather refreshing to his eyes.

“what’re you doing here?” you blink hardly at him but it’s to no avail as the alcohol in your veins distorts your vision.

he brings you closer, gloved hand rising to caress the back of your head. “i just came to visit. however, it didn’t occur to me that you would all have so much fun without my presence.”

“nonsense!” you claim dramatically, a satisfied smile immediately appearing on ayato’s face at your predictable reaction.

you poke his arm you don’t realise is already sat on your waist. you’re too ready to defend your lord from his own words to notice anyway.

ayato scans your face. lavender eyes find your plumped lips, the thin sheen of sweat along your cheeks and your hair attempting to escape the confines of your hairpin—hold on a moment, he got you that hairpin!

the way ayato has to physically restrain a grin from showing on his face is uncharacteristic of him. he’s noticed that he uncovers new parts of himself whenever you’re beside him. such an interesting person you are…

“we were waiting for you—hic—however, we got a little distracted.” you admit, gesturing at ayaka who sleeps soundly on thoma’s jacket. you look up at ayato through your eyelashes, giving him a lopsided smile.

“i remembered your—hic—advice when you said ayaka can’t drink more than a glass. she might even have it worse than me. but thoma, on the other hand, was a completely different story. that man was a mess!” you move your head to look at thoma’s body sprawled over the floor, ugly giggles leaving the back of your throat at how much of an idiot he looks like right now.

your hair tickles ayato’s chin but he pays no mind to it when he’s so immensely amused by your relaxed nature when drunk.

thoma

thoma mentally checks his list of things to do before retiring for the night. his lord is in his office, accompanied by a freshly made pot of tea, his lady should already be sound asleep and the other retainers are also readying to retire too. he sighs to himself, patting his jacket down as he heads to the kitchen to finalise his cleaning.

when he enters the kitchen, he is baffled at the sight in front of him. he stares blankly for a moment to process it.

there’s remnants of sake dripping out of a tipped-over tokkuri and his lover who plays with the o-choko absentmindedly with their finger, drawing invisible lines along the rim. thoma stifles a giggle, a curled finger covering his lips.

his giggle sends your consciousness back into focus. you only have the power to tilt your head ever so slightly to the right, your movements pausing on the o-choko when your gaze falls upon the view of your lover.

“tho—ma,” your cracked voice calls for him, making him rush toward you in such fondness so he could pinch your cheeks.

“oh, y/n, what are you doing?” thoma asks as giggles leave his lips, watching you squint at him dazedly. “it’s dripping from the corner of your lips as well!” he takes a napkin, sitting next to you to wipe it away gently.

“wh- where’ve you been, pretty?” your words are slurred but thoma hears you perfectly well.

the pet name makes him blush, but you’re too drunk to notice. “i’ve been doing my job—oh, honey—” he huffs when he brings you to lean on him instead. the longer you lay your head on the table, the more you’ll want to throw up later (and thoma makes sure to prevent that from happening).

you giggle at the little voice crack you hear when he calls you by your pet name, leaning onto his chest as your head rests on his shoulder blade. taking advantage of this position, thoma presses a cool ceramic cup filled with water by your lips and when you lazily open your eyes, you see that it’s the glass that’s been sitting on the side from earlier.

“drink up, honey.” you can’t refuse such a request when it’s mumbled so affectionately by your ear. you’re probably even warm at your cheeks from it, but then again, the sake has kept your cheeks warm for a while. you can’t even tell anymore.

after taking a few sips of water, your throat feels fresh and renewed—if thoma heard your thoughts, he would deadpan at you and say “y/n. it’s called getting hydrated” in a sassy little voice. this scenario amuses you and it causes a small laugh to leave your lips.

above you, thoma is confused. “what are you thinking about?” he asks curiously with a smile.

as you rest your head on thoma’s shoulder again, you reply, “you. i’m just thinking about you.”

tighnari

a shout from outside tighnari’s lodging brings his attention away from his documents, brows furrowing and pushing himself up from his chair to see why his forest rangers are making such a fuss at an ungodly hour (yes, tighnari was awake at said ungodly hour but that wasn’t because he was with his fellow rangers after a night out!).

“tighnari, we’re back!” a drunk forest watcher waves and yells at the figure of tighnari, who has his arms crossed in front of him.

a sigh leaves tighnari’s mouth, one of exhaustion, to be precise. “do you intend to wake all of gandharva ville up? go find yourselves home and rest.” he turns around to head back inside until another forest watcher pipes up.

“wait, tighnari! y/n’s black out drunk!” a female forest watcher, who’s eyes can’t even look at a single point any longer due to the alcohol running in her veins, displays your figure with your arm dangling over her shoulders. “you need to take them back, i don’t know where they live!”

tighnari raises a brow and chuckles, shaking his head. “yet you’re sober enough to tell me this.” he walks towards the group of drunkards and collects you easily from the forest watcher, carefully placing your arm over his shoulders while his other hand holds your hip.

you barely know where you are and what’s happening but it appears that your assigned guardian angel for the night has retired and put you in more capable hands—or, arms. you blink in an attempt to gather knowledge of your surroundings but it’s to no avail when everything is a blur of darkness with hints of warm light from the dew lights.

a grunt escapes your lips in slight frustration as you walk away with this other person, but they’re quick to hush you gently and in a soft voice you hear, “i promise we’re almost there, just walk with me, okay?”

“yeah, okay,” you reply promptly but to tighnari’s ears, he’s never heard such a tone in your voice ever since you were recruited. his heart skips a beat and his ear twitches along. it’s rare to see you so vulnerable and he can tell you have no idea that he’s the one carrying you back to… well, his lodging. because your lodging is simply too far away (it’s only a bridge away) and he can’t have you walking any longer when you look like you’re on the verge of passing out!

he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him when his gloved hand holds onto your forearm to keep your body steady against his as he walks you to his lodging. his body is going against him and his heart can only take the blame for such ridiculous delusions. what does he think he will get out of this?

he’s just your chief forest watcher, that’s all he will ever be to you—is what tighnari thinks. but in reality, you only went out with the others to spiral in alcohol due to your failed attempts of romancing your handsome superior. it seemed that the sumeru roses and the letter you left at his doorstep were blown away by the wind (you had to commit blasphemy on that day and curse the anemo archon), the pita pockets you made for him were stolen away by some petty treasure hoarders when you weren’t looking and overall, your thoughts were a mess thinking about your failed attempts. it was like your beloved archon forgot to bless you with wisdom to avoid these situations.

“see! i told you he had a soft spot for them!”

“it’s so obvious the feelings mutual, i can’t believe they didn’t believe us.”

“they’re literally the only one who can’t see it!”

tighnari clears his throat loud enough for the group to hear him. he turns around and gives them a pointed look until they’re all skipping away to their respective lodgings.

he glances at your drunken face for a brief moment and smiles to himself, continuing to walk you back.

it appears that all his worries were meaningless.

kaveh

the sight of you leaning against the door to his home almost makes his soul fly right out of his body.

“hello y/n, i thought we were meeting for dinner?” but when kaveh finally makes it to where you are, you are nowhere near sober. no wonder your figure was leaning against the wood so flimsily. you were akin to a ragdoll at this point. “great heavens, is the end of the world upon us? why are you drunk before me?” he hesitantly collects you in his arms while mehrak hovers beside him. he can’t have you just leaning like that!

“went to… birthday party… drinks…”

that’s enough information to bring kaveh up to speed with the situation. but also… why did you decide to go to his house?! was it instinctive?

kaveh cringes at his thoughts and opens the door with his free hand while his other hand supports you by your waist (he can feel his palm warming up to the touch on your body and it’s making the poor man sweat). “come on in, let’s sober you up.”

when you’re sat nicely on the couch, your eyes are still closed with zero awareness of your surroundings. how your head suddenly tilts backwards at such speed almost brings the most horrific yelp out of kaveh, he’s relieved to know his reflexes are still sharp enough to have caught your head before it snapped right off your neck.

“archons, you’re going to give me a heart attack!” he holds the back of your head and somehow manages to bring your body to lean against the spine of the couch. he doesn’t forget to put a pillow behind your back either, because you being drunk doesn’t mean you’re drunk enough to not feel discomfort.

after collecting himself from that scare, he returns with a cup of water, hands carefully hovering it in front of your lips. “here, drink up,” he says but you keep moving your mouth away from the cup that it’s slowly beginning to irritate him.

“y/n, you need to sober up if you’re going to walk home later,” he tells you in a more serious voice which makes you groan, throwing your head forward into your hands.

“you don’t understand.”

“what don’t i understand?”

what am i doing here? i swear i was in front of my friend's place… how is it that my drunk feet led me here? out of all the places on this continent, why did i take myself to the one place i’m trying to avoid?!

kaveh raises a brow and puts down the glass of water. “is something wrong, y/n? i haven’t even seen you since last week.”

“i’ve been… busy…” trying to keep my feelings at bay!

“i see,” kaveh responds before adding, “do you still feel drunk?”

“i wouldn’t say i’m drunk to the point of passing out—i did feel like that earlier but now that i’m sitting i can at least participate in conversation.” you remove your face from your hands.

why is his face so pink? you think to yourself, grabbing the glass of water from the table to take a sip before leaning back with your free arm supporting you. you grin to yourself, feeling a little cheeky.

you offer the glass of water you just drank from to kaveh, hovering it in front of his lips and you swear you almost watch his eyes fall out of their eye sockets.

“what—what are you doing?!” kaveh’s voice shakes and you let out this cute drunken giggle that makes his heart leap.

“i know i’m the one drunk, but for some reason you look drunk without even having drinks!”

kaveh touches his face and he purses his lips. his cheeks are so used to being hot from being in your presence that he didn’t even realise!

“allow me to assist you.” you lean your body a little closer so you can press the chilled glass of water against kaveh’s cheek.

his bottom lip falls and quivers when you lean closer towards him. last time you were this close, you were putting medication on his face after a run in with fungi.

the coldness of the glass somehow gives him time to think to himself—rationally. maybe in this moment right now he could…

“thank you, y/n.” you’ve never heard this tone in kaveh’s voice, it’s unfamiliar and so… tender. what he does next makes you finally meet his scarlet eyes.

a warm hand wraps around your wrist that holds the glass to his cheeks, your skin immediately lights up in fire at the contact. it makes you gulp so embarrassingly loudly before him.

he leans into the coolness of the glass, gazing at you with such gentle eyes that it’s tempting you to look away. as his thumb gently caresses your skin, he smiles. “it helps.”

wanderer

wanderer returns to his home a little later than usual tonight. he made sure to leave a note on the dining table to let you know of his whereabouts for the day. he knows you have the propensity to worry about him, despite his claims that he’ll be perfectly fine because of how well-versed he is in the arts of defence (and nasty attacks). which is why he left the note on the table, and he acknowledges how it was moved to another spot on the table from this morning.

you’ve seen it. he thinks to himself and now he wonders where you are. you’re not normally out at this time and from your cute daily schedule reports you tell him before bed, he doesn’t remember you mentioning that you would be out until this time. or if you were going out with friends.

that’s alright. wanderer can wait.

the tapping of his own foot is driving the man on edge. it’s been two whole hours—the sun is far beneath the horizon and the birds are already snoring. where the hell are you? wanderer cannot do this anymore, he rises from his seat and takes flight with his anemo abilities.

the city is rather easy to navigate at this height. in the dark, the city is at least still lit up by streetlights and with the help of one nearby lambad’s tavern, he spots your curled figure sitting on the floor very easily.

he hovers over the cement before landing smoothly on his feet. “what are you doing here at this time? it’s so late,” wanderer remarks with irritation, standing in front of you with his arms folded. he stares at your figure with a frown.

“h-huh?” your voice comes out hoarse, lifting your head and your eyes slowly make out the figure of wanderer. “o-oh it’s youi… where’ve you been?” you manage to say despite how the world shakes around you.

“tch, what do you—” wanderer stops himself, raising a brow then finally taking the time to scan your face and posture and it hits him.

you’re fucking drunk.

“you’re insane,” wanderer scoffs, kneeling down to silently take a closer look at your face and body for any drunkenly bruises. “do you even know what time it is? i was waiting for you.” he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands but he decides to offer you one to help you get up on your feet.

“you think i’m insane but really, you’re the one doing insane things all the time! you know, like fighting fatui agents in the rain… to avenge a bird!” you put emphasis on the word ‘bird’ and wanderer scoffs at the finger you point at him.

“it was in danger,” he replies simply before sighing, “but that’s not the point. you’re drunk outside at a time like this so i’ll be taking you home now.”

talking to him magically makes you more sober with every passing second. you decide to play with him a little, leaning back on the brick wall as the crease in your brow melts away. “ooh, shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

wanderer groans, pulling his hand back. he’s never had to deal with you drunk before! so he thinks for a moment, and he stands tall on his feet, turning his head the other direction. “if this is how you will continue to act then i will leave you to your own devices, however if you come back crawling to me—”

wanderer almost gasps at your figure suddenly standing beside him, steady on your feet as you give him a hard and long stare. “you don’t have to tell me twice about how you wait for me at home, i’m well aware of that. complain all you want about me but your words aren’t consistent with your actions, my love.” you slide your hand down his arm to reach for his hand as you lean your head on his shoulder.

you feel him tilt his face in the other direction. curious, you briefly lift your head for a moment to spot your pretty artificial lover gritting his teeth as a sheet of pink blankets his cheeks.

“fool,” he whispers, but there is no malice behind it.

#kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #ayato x reader #thoma x reader #tighnari x reader #kaveh x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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recreationalfanfics · 1 year

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Hi there, can you please do Yandere Thor, Poseidon, Loki and possibly Hercules to Female Yoriichi Reader? The creator of the Sun Breathing and the other Breathing Forms, who always has a solemn expression and is known as the Strongest Demon Slayer to ever exist (She has access to the Transparent World and can use the Selfless State) but despite this she’s incredibly humble seeing herself as just another human and not even special, despite her extraordinary skills

Yoriichi gave Muzan such severe PTSD from 400 YEARS ago that his Upper Moons will go through his trauma just from seeing TANJIRO (And it’s STILL severely traumatic to him 😂)

Yandere Shiva, Loki, Buddha and Hercules with Female Tengen Uzui Reader from KNY? How do you think they would react to Reader calling herself ‘Goddess of Festivals/Flashiness’ and calling others (Even GODS) ‘Trash’ and having 3 HUSBANDS 💀

Sorry if this is a lot! I just think Demon Slayer Characters are super cool, especially the Hashiras (The Swordsmith Village Arc is going to be released sometime in April! 🥹🤩)

Thor, Poseidon, and Loki + Fem! Yoriichi Tsugikuni! Reader:

One of these three gods stands on one side of the arena, their grand entrance causing a ruckus of enthusiastic roars and cheers from the side of the gods while the humans side shook with terror. They look at the other side, confident and ready to see the pitiful mortal that Brunhilde had served to them on a silver platter. It was a woman.

She makes no flashy entrance, her clothes are rather average, and her face does not seem scared but nor does it seem too cocky. Her (e/c) eyes are serene and her (h/c) hair was rather average looking. She was a regular looking human, nothing special. Aside from the strange looking birthmark on her left eye.

"AND IF YOU LOOK OVER FOLKS, THE NEXT FOOL WHO WILL BE CHALLENGING THE GODS IS A SWORDSWOMAN WHO DOMINATED THE SENGOKU ERA-"

"Please." The (h/c) haired woman interrupts, Heimdall goes silent and so does everyone else, unsheathing her sword, she looks at Heimdall with a composed look on her face, it was not unkind, "I do not need such an introduction. I am a human like the rest of my kind."

She then gets into her defensive stance and narrows her eyes at her divine opponent.

"And I shall do whatever it takes to save them."

The god you're against either glares at you, smiles at you, or raises an eyebrow at you. Either way, Heimdall recovers his voice:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, (Y/N) (L/N), THE SUN BREATHING SWORD ARTIST AND MOTHER OF ALL BREATHING METHODS. NIGHTMARE OF MUZAN KIBUTSUJI AND THE STRONGEST HASHIRA HUMANITY HAS KNOWN!"

"So that's who you are," the God thinks to himself as you maintain unbreakable eye contact, "that hardly matters."

Yandere! Thor:

- Thor doesn't think much of you when you step into the arena, not because you're a human, but because he has yet to see you fight. You seem unfazed by him but he doesn't truly know that for sure. You are not unattractive but you're nothing special in his eyes.

- What a fool he was, because the moment the battle begins, he sees that you aren't just beautiful, you're absolutely heavenly. When you take your first breath, you take away his as large solar fires soon appear around you and you make your attack.

"What is this?" He asks himself in his head, using his Mjölnir to block another close sneak attack blow from your sword. The clashing of your weapon and his own makes his heart do flips in his chest, "Why...why do I feel like this?"

You then decided to be bold and you quickly, nearly teleported with the speed you were going, appear in front of him and your eyes glint, reflecting off your blade as you try to slash him. His eyes soften when they see you and his blood thirsty smile softens as your eyes lock onto his. There was fire in your eyes...no...the sun itself glowed in them. Powerful, burning, yet composed.

"What has she done to me?" He thinks, and you're not sure if it's from the intensity of the battle but his cheeks appear to be dusted the lightest color of pink.

- Your fight ends in a draw, the both of are so tired that you neither of you can move a muscle. Both God's and Humans are shocked at the results but Thor couldn't be happier.

- He just found his soulmate, he thinks to himself as you try to use your sword to get up and fight him again. His smile turns into a loving one as you struggle to get close to him, not that he can judge since he can also barely move, and he loves it! In fact, he now knows that he loves you.

- You will be his! You have to be, surely you were created to match him in power and strength because you were meant to be with him. After being fixed up and bandaged, he must seek you out, he must find you!

- Since then, the God of Thunder has been keeping his eye on you, his beautiful Sun. How you appear unreadable at first but if someone truly read you, truly attempted to understand what a complex and beautiful person you are like Thor has; they can see that you're more than a human...You're humble, you're kind, and you're dutiful. Honorable like him and share the same values, this only seals your fate to him even more.

- Odin notices how during other God's battles that his son scans the human's side, his eyes desperately searching for someone in the crowd. Thor knows for a fact that you always come to watch your fellow Human's matches in person and when his eyes land on you, that adrenaline kicks in and Loki and Odin stare at him as a smile grows on his face.

- He does this every match, but even then, the time between matches is too long for him to see you again. He searches for you, Brunhilde having to confront him as she reminds him that the HUMAN champions reside here but he ignores her the moment he sees you walk down the hallway. He follows you quickly like how the moon chases the sun.

- You turn and see him and you politely bow your head to him. He frowns a bit in dissaproval, how could you bow your head to him as if he were a stranger, surely you had to feel the same feelings he was after your battle. How you two danced a brutal yet beautiful dance of life and death. You stare at each other for a bit before you muster a kind yet small smile, "I look forward to our rematch." and as a result, he nods with his usual stoic demeanor and you turn and walk to your room. Yes, he can't wait for your rematch either.

- Because one the day it takes place, Heimdall shocks everyone with his newest announcement.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE FIRST RAGNAROK REMATCH OF THR GOD OF THUNDER VS. THE LADY OF THE SUN. EXCEPT, THE CONDITIONS ARE DIFFERENT THIS TIME."

- You don't like the way the red-haired God smiles at you, it feels smug and ominous, and you paitently wait to hear this last minute change.

"IN THE CASE THAT OUR ESTEEMED PRINCE OF ASGARD WINS, HE HAS REQUESTED THAT INSTEAD OF SENDING (Y/N) TO NIFLHIEM THAT SHE IS TO BELONG TO HIM INSTEAD."

- You look at Brunhilde, who looks away shamefully and can not meet your gaze, and then you look at Thor. Who looks a lot more motivated to beat you this time.

Yandere! Poseidon:

- He wanted to roll his eyes when you interrupted him. What right did you have to act so humble? You're a human, what could you possibly have to be humble about? Being a mere ant he steps on on a daily basis?

- Fine, if you want a wake up call, he'll give you one. He waits for you to strike, it wouldn't hurt to give you an advantage since there's no way something as insignificant as you can beat him. Until you grip your nichirin blade and take a deep breath, suddenly the water arena evaporates into steam as intense flames surround you...no, not mere flames. It felt like the sun itself.

- You use the steam to sneak and attack the God, whose now even more annoyed than ever. Smoke and mirrors, that's all it was. Poseidon REFUSES to allow you to think you have an advantage and tries to kill you with his strongest attacks but even then, its not enough.

A draw, your battle ended in a draw. He can't believe it, as he kneels down on one leg bleeding and holding onto his trident for support as you pant heavily on the other side, your throat burning but you still have the bright gaze in your eyes, the eyes of someone who just humbled a God. He was in denial at first, then he was angry. Destroying everything in sight at the humiliation he faced at your hand. He knew you two were set for a rematch BUT HE NEEDED VENGANCE FOR HIS SCORNED PRIDE NOW. Looking for you all around heaven, he threatened and interrogated many of your human allies and located you inside the greenhouse. It was bright and beautiful day as always, but it did little to improve his mood. The only thing that could is your dead body at his feet, evidence that you were just as every bit of a failure as the rest of humanity.

However he stops when he sees you. The artful way you practice your sword. The calm rise and fall of your chest all perfectly timed to enhance your fighting style and your moves, the same ones you used to tie with him, slowed down and filled with grace and strength. His heart makes his brain forget that you are human, the thing he detested the most in this life, and his anger is replaced with something else. Respect? Admiration?

No, it was none of those things.

In fact, it was something more passionate. More shameful in the eyes of gods. Something that you will soon find is worth than his anger.

- He observes you a lot more from then on. You aren't sure why since last you checked, he had looked down on you like you were the dirt beneath his feet, but you come here at the exact same time on the exact same day, and so does he.

- You don't speak to him, he wants you too. Haven't you humiliated him enough already? apparently not since you didn't even glance at him as you trained and he knows damn well you see him.

- "What are you?" He finally asks as he pushes down his broken pride. You stare at him, your solemn face broken when he asked you that question. "You are not a human," He explains, "You can't be. Humans are not meant to be...to be so..." he pauses and looks down, to any normal person, he looks pissed and like he's gonna attack but you only raise an eyebrow. W-was he being shy?

- "Beautiful." He finally answers, and for a brief moment that stoicism breaks in shock at his words. "You can not be a human. You are too beautiful. Humans can not be beautiful." It takes you a while to find your voice but when you do, you merely keep your composure: "Humans are many things, Lord Poseidon. We are strong, we are compassionate, and, yes, we can be beautiful."

- No, he thinks to himself, humans are not beautiful. This is a fact he's known for a long, long time. Yet, you were a human and here he was, admiring you every day and watching you in utter awe. Only you, he decides. Humans are not beautiful, only you are.

- He hates how humble you are, he absolutely despises it. Do you not have any respect for yourself? How can you allow yourself to think that you're anything like those worthless worms who snivel and beg pathetically at the feet of the gods. He believes there has been a mistake in the universe, he believes you're insulting yourself when you downplay your status and feats. Can't you see? They're beneath you! Humanity is beneath you! He has to fix this. He has to fix you.

- The day of your rematch with Poseidon, neither of you are seen. The gods search for him and the Valkyries try to rummage through your room and found only one shocking clue. A letter left on your bed written by Poseidon, who believes that deciding the fate of Humanity was beneath him and how he had more important matters involving you. He sits next to your unconscious sleeping form on his bed, his fingers in your hair as you sleep so beautifully. You needed to learn to take more pride in yourself, to be taken away from the shackles of humility humanity put on you, and Poseidon was more than happy to teach you how.

Yandere! Loki:

- He was rather unimpressed with your entrance and appearance, honestly. A smirk on his face as he looks you up and down, you certainly weren't wrong when you said you were a human, for that's what was before him. A measly average human.

- Honestly, he feels rather insulted and that this fight isn't gonna be as exciting as he had hoped. That wasn't fair! Every other God got fun humans but him! Oh well, at least he has an excuse to torture a human and humiliate them in front of everyone~

- Summoning his own weapons, he just tilts his head: "You know, interrupting Heimdall was a little dramatic don't you think? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you secretly put yourself on a pedastal."/ "I do not, I just merely am stating a fact. I am a human who bleeds just like the rest of humanity."/ Loki then smiles: "I'm so happy you think that! Because you're gonna die like the rest of them!"

- His attack is planned in his head, first a chain wraps around you and his other blade will slit your throat and soon, you'll suffer as- "I never said we bled easily." Your voice is right behind him. He looks over his shoulder and reacts in time but when you breathe, he can't act fast enough before of the display of a divine light that surrounds you now. You slice his shoulder and it burns, he holds it and glares at you. You drew first blood, but he'll make sure you don't get lucky again.

- Until you both are exaughsted from the battle and it ends in a tie. Loki feels himself growing weak and his last sight before losing consciousness is you. Surprisingly, when he wakes up, the first thing he sees is you as well. Sitting next to him, bandages on your wounds and a book in your hands. You notice from the corner of your eyes that he is awake.

- You apologize instantly for his wounds, despite the fact it is a literal fight to the death. In fact, your exact words to him are: "I aimed all of my attacks to kill swiftly, it was not my intention to make you suffer like the demons who have met my blade. In our next battle, I will make sure to be strong enough to kill you properly and respectfully."

- He isn't sure what to think of this, what to think of you. But it makes him smile for some reason, maybe he smiles at your foolishness for thinking you could kill HIM (you were close but he blames it on fortune), or maybe he smiles because it's very rare that someone honors him, a God of mischief and trickery, the same way they'd honor more noble gods like his uncle and cousin. Or maybe it was the smile you gave him...yes, that was it. It was your smile that sealed your fate.

- Loki can now be found wherever you are, like an annoying stray who keeps coming back to the hand that fed him once. Maybe he wants to annoy you, maybe he wants to flirt. Anything just to see you change that serious boring look on your face...maybe smile for him, yeah? He just hasn't been able to get it out of his mind.

- But, nah, you're too boring. That's his little pet name for you "His Boring Little Mortal", he'll complain about you but if anyone else was to speak ill, God or Human, he becomes indignant and reminds them of your good traits like your nobility and how you held yourself in battle.

- He's honestly the same when he's a yandere, as I said before, but the key major difference is that all it takes is one miniscule thing and suddenly, he comes more possessive. More protective and more suffocating. Like, he's watching you during a Ragngarok match and you smile at someone. To others, it might not be a big deal but to him, it very much is. Because it wasn't fair, YOUR SMILE BELONGED TO HIM. NOT TO ANYONE ELSE. TO HIM. YOU SMILED AT HIM FIRST SO IT'S HIS! YOU ARE HIS.

You lost the battle.

Your nobility, your humbleness, and your kindness wasn't enough to match the God of Deciet's wit and cunning. Your on both your knees, coughing up blood and unable to move your body as you hear the loud chain rattling of his weapons. You can hear the humans behind you begging you to get up, urging you to fight but you can't, your heart's strength was there but your body's was not. You feel ashamed but at least you can die knowing you did your best. Loki looks down at you, his hands at his sides, and his face stoic in a very unsettling manner. All he has to do is kill you, all he has to do is-"

"...I don't want too." He frowns, crossing his arms and looking the other way. You look at him in shock as the God's outrage as well as the humans. "LOKI, WHAT TREACHERY IS THIS!?" One of Odin's crows, well, crowed loudly.

Loki stuck out his tounge before shrugging, "I don't know, I mean, what am I winning? A step closer to humanity's destruction? We're gods! I want a something else! A prize~" He says slyly. The gods outrage once more before Zeus sighs, knowing nothing can be simple with the green haired god and tiredly asked him, "Fine, what prize must we give you if you kill (Y/n) (L/n)?" Zeus asked, making Loki grin wolfishly.

The arena becomes quiet and Loki kneels in front of you, cupping your face in his hands and tilting your head. What a cute face you're making, so confused and ready to die. He wonders what face you would make if he just...

Kissed you passionately, pressing his lips to your blood covered ones and shocking you and both audiences of mortals and immortals. You don't kiss him back, you don't even have time to think before he pulls away from you and looks at you with half lidded eyes.

Yes, that face is so much cuter on you. He wonders what other faces you could make.

But first, he has to answer the question Zeus asked him, "Why, the only prize that matters to me of course!~"

"(Y/n) (L/n), the Sun Hashira herself!"

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just-ornstein · 3 months

Text

WHAT THE FUCK IS THE BEAKER CASTLE EVEN - A SimPE Deep Dive

Alright, so after stumbling upon some of the Beta pics on the Russian TheSims.cc site and this analysis post about the Beaker mansion, I became deeply curious if some of this would be reflected in the lot relationships. After all, some characters like Viola, Kelly, on top of several others could be found when digging through the raw and somewhat encrypted code of lots.

By now it's pretty clear that the Beaker home once belonged to this dude and his army of girlfriends (definitely check out the post I mentioned earlier). On top of that Loki (and possibly Circe) seems to have gone through at least two iterations before eventually settling on their final forms.

And on top of that whenever you scan the mansion in a completely new game, you will find fingerprints of primarily deceased Sims everywhere!

Now to get to the Sim relationships on the lot...

712 freaking Sim Relationships, all of which are unknown. Some of which still have stats set such as married, friends, relationship scores, etc. I tried comparing this to other lots in their neighborhood and NONE even come close. Both Olive and the Smiths have around 400. The other lots have below. And the only lots that are even a tad higher in this number are the Capps and the Summerdreams which makes sense when you realise that hood went through at least one other iteration before turning into Veronaville.

Now I wondered if the encrypted code (despite being very hard to read due to being partially encrypted) had any old Sim remnants left in there. And yep, several even. Many of which even have information such as their gender, hair, clothes and age in there. So lemme go over some of them:

1. First one, a guy who's name is partially encrypted so it will never fully be visible. It's not Johnny cause Johnny also has his character file on this lot.

A male teen with brown hair who used to wear the "tmbodyhoodedsweatshirtboardshorts" + the "tmhairhatcap" hairstyle.

2. Second is another teen, this time by the name of Zeeshan. He had black hair, the bucket hat hairstyle and wore the hooded sweatshirt, except with pants this time around (and grey apparently?).

3. The third was an adult male Sim by the name of Kenneth with black hair. Based on his info he was likely meant to be a Gardener Sim.

4. The fourth was one named Kana... Possibly a longer name cause once again the code becomes a bit shambled here. She too was meant to be a Gardener as seen by her outfit and hair data. Her hair would have been brown.

5. Elle, another female Gardener Sim, this one having red hair.

6. Vasyl, an adult male Sim who wore the busdriver outfit. Sadly his hair data seems to be blocked behind the code. For funsies I like to give the name to Bald Beta Loki, since he gives off that vibe. BUT, I think this was an NPC busdriver due to the outfit.

7. Joanne, an adult female Sim with an unknown hair colour in corn rows style and the classy afbodyjacketturtlesweaterdressboots. Sadly her ID is hidden behind the encrypted code, so it's hard to fully make out.

All of these Sims appear to be NPC/Townie Sims. None of them match ANYONE in the Beta pictures. And the current Townies/NPCs seem to have replaced them. Interestingly enough, those that were NPCs are still NPCs and those that were Townies are still Townies. Making me wonder if this is a thing that translates to other Sim IDs too. That Sims that were Townies in earlier iterations are still Townies in their new form. Same for NPCs and yep, Playables. This is merely an assumption I'm making on what I'm finding here, but if anyone can help research this further, that would be greatly appreciated, especially as this could mean the Viola ID may not belong to Viola Monty.

Viola is an odd case cause no outfit, hair or other data can be found in the lot file and she's only ever mentioned once in the context of lines filled with "sleep in pyjamas". But for now I cannot say anything with certainty unless more remnants of these old Sims could be found somewhere. OR, if these files could be read in its entirety which is quite difficult.

It's very hard to get a Sim ID attached to a lot (believe me I tried) and often times seems to rather happen accidentally than intentionally. Moving a Sim out or having a Sim die usually removes the data they once held to that lot. Good example is Loki in my current Strangetown who lived on this lot all of his life and when he died he had no remnants left on this lot.

REGARDLESS! The Beaker lot is ancient and seems to have been ground for a ton of testing, Sims and many more things. No wonder the Beakers got this home with its incredibly shady history. Half of the beta town was partying here!

#the sims 2 #ts2 #the beaker family #loki beaker #circe beaker #the sims 2 beta #beta sims 2 #sims #sims 2 #the sims #the encrypted code IS IN FACT Hex code btw #I figured this out when opening it in Visual Studio #main problem is that some of the hex is blank #meaning it’s unreadable at least in the file itself #SimPE manages to bypass some of it #but not all as we cannot find these Sim IDs in there

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kirain · 1 month

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Question. How do you handle the age differences and life spans of your tavs/romances in bg3?

Are you asking if I've made my Tavs age-equal to the romances I've picked for them? If so, then I've actually been very careful about that. Lore-wise, I can't stand the thought of my character dying hundreds of years sooner or living hundreds of years longer than their partner. So I adhered to D&D 5E lore. If you're interested, I've explained most of the lifespans below.

Serena, my canon character, is human and romanced Gale. In D&D, the average lifespan of a human is 120 years, but since she and Gale are both wizards, they could potentially live for thousands of years. It all depends on the magic they wield. Elminster, for example, is nearly 1,300 years old. Otherwise, they'll age alongside each other as equals.

Saska is a Seldarine drow. On average they last between 400-750 years, depending on if they survive and leave the Underdark. Saska has indeed left the Underdark, works as a bard, and romanced Karlach. Tieflings typically live to 150; however, Karlach has the potential to live longer since her body has been so drastically altered. Upon finding a permanent upgrade for her engine, it's possible she could live just as long as a drow, if not longer, as she's been touched by infernal technology.

Ez'ria is a githyanki fighter/storm sorcerer. This one was easy, since she romanced Lae'zel. With any luck, they'll both live to a nice, healthy 120 years old; the average lifespan of a gith.

Eilonwy is my redeemed Dark Urge half-elf. On average they last about 180 years. This one's a bit more complicated because I partnered her with Astarion, who's a pure high elf and a vampire. High elves live to an average of 750 years, and vampires/spawn are of course immortal. But I've given this a lot of thought. Eilonwy, for example, is a druid, and because of their connection to nature/magic, their aging slows to 10% of what they would normally age. This means Eilonwy has the potential to reach 1,800. I should also mention that there are cures to vampirism in D&D 5E, so I like to think they find one at some point during their travels.

Bakara is a tiefling sorcerer of the draconic bloodline. Another semi-easy one, since I partnered her with Wyll. As I mentioned before, tieflings typically live to 150, whereas humans live to 120. I headcanon that my tiefling was already 50 when she met Wyll; who, according to Larian, is 24 during the events of BG3. To clarify, tieflings are considered young adults by the age of 20 and full adults when they reach the age of 60. So despite being 50, she's mentally around the same age as Wyll.

Thalias is a high half-elf Selûnite cleric. Possibly the easiest one, since he romanced Shadowheart, who is also a high half-elf who becomes a Selûnite cleric (at least in my game). With Selûne's blessing, they could live however long she desires, but on average they'll both live to be 180.

I also made an adorable little deep gnome named Mira to sweep Barcus off his feet. I shall wait patiently for Larian or a clever modder to make him romancable. The average lifespan for gnomes is 350 years.

Halsin is a bit more complicated, since he's a pure wood elf and a druid. This means he could conceivably live to be 7,500 years old, which is wild. I do plan on doing a playthrough where I romance him, and when I do I'll be making a mysterious wood elf named Arawen, a warlock who made a pact with an ancient archfey. So in addition to living to 750; as per the average lifespan of her race, as long as her pact remains in tact, she will live as long as her patron allows.

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twilightarc-gm · 26 days

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Why do you like jiang cheng?

At the risk of liking him for the wrong reasons, let me be verbose and annoying about it.

A short anecdote: I finished the donghua before the novel and I liked JC's aesthetic so I was happy to have that imagery in my head for the novel, but mostly I came out of the donghua like "cool story, the ending was frowny face though" and I came out of the novel like I was lost in the IKEA store "there's stuff here but it's not what I want and it's organized in a way that's hard to navigate through." Bit like giving me a puzzle to solve.

Anyway, imagine a cat bapping at a thing trying to get fandom to show me what to do with MDZS (i.e. reading fanfic) and then I come across anti-Jiang Cheng stuff.

//record scratch

I'm sorry what?

Why?

NO.

I started then on Shuangjie reconciliation fic and quickly evolved into Jiang Cheng "Apologist" ((I actually don't think he has anything to apologize for even if he would do so anyway.))

I've been in the xianxia/wuxia sphere of media consumption for a year or so before trying out MDZS and JC just fits so well as the main character of his own story; destined for a position of power through birth, friends with someone in his life that causes conflict, seemingly betrayed by said friend when needing that friend the most, losing and losing and losing as his trust in said friend proves unfounded because the friend walks a path he can't follow, and then he's left with the tragedy that befell the world because--ultimately he trusted this friend too much.

It's a classic story of love and attachment and how good intentions can have massive consequences. Two men entwined by fate and in the end there's a battle on a hill (off screen in this case) where one is forced to "kill" the other.

MDZS could have ended with the past timeline, and I would have liked it more but at least in the present timeline we get Jiujiu and a-Ling.

Anyway: Excerpts and Commentary Below about WHY I LOVE JIANG CHENG, courtesy WANYIN

Of all the clans to offend, you don’t offend the Jiang Clan, and of all the people to offend, you never offend Jiang Cheng.

We stand by a badass mf in this house. The first thing we learn is that he gets credit for killing a big baddy and the second thing we learn is how fierce the rest of his reputation is. He brooks no shit and leaves no quarter. Amazing 💜

Well, I was done for at "gaze like two streaks of cold lightning" so RIP me, I guess. Reminds me of some antis that are like "you only like him because he's hot" which isn't true but it is a nice plus. He's described as inferior to LWJ so like, if it was only about hotness then wouldn't I like LWJ???

“I am his uncle. Do you have any last words?”

At the sound of that voice, every drop of blood in Wei Wuxian’s body seemed to surge to his head but then immediately drained away again. Thankfully, his face was already a mess of ghastly white, so it didn’t look strange when he went a little paler.

A man in purple attire strode over. He was dressed in a narrow-sleeved light robe, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. A silver bell dangled from his waist, yet there was no sound when he walked.

This young man had fine brows and almond eyes, with a chiseled handsomeness to his features. His eyes were deep and intense with a hint of aggression, his gaze like two streaks of cold lightning. He stopped and stood three meters away from Wei Wuxian. His expression was like that of a nocked arrow on a bow, ready to shoot, and even his composure was suffused with arrogant pride.

Jiang Cheng ruled the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng alone, so it could have been said that he was in a state of isolation.

🥺 Alone?? And he could still afford 400 Immortal Binding Nets? Self-sufficient king 🤩 And like, his reputation is so fierce and he's boiling over with anger in that scene, but still he restrains himself because he did the cost-benefit analysis! And then later he takes a huge risk on WWX, like he always does for WWX, and that doesn't work out for him--like it always does.

Seeing that nothing had happened to Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng was greatly relieved. However, that relief soon turned into a furious reprimand:

Parent behavior. Enough said.

He has a twisted smile when encountering a trigger for his PTSD and then he decides to fight it instead of letting it paralyze him. He's such a doer. Like, every other moment of the day he's carefully calculating pluses and minuses to every choice (valid) but when it comes to facing his personal demons he's ready to throw down. Excellent.

A moment later, Jiang Cheng’s lips pulled into a twisted smile. His left hand subconsciously began stroking that ring once more.

He said softly, “Excellent. Back, are you?”

He let go of his left hand, and a long whip dangled from it.

“Oh? Then please enlighten me, what is your type?”

Walking A-Spec flag very concerned about what the man who might be his shixiong thinks about him, more at eleven!

Wei Wuxian waved him off and then hooked his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. “Who cares? I’ll tease him a bit more before I go. You’ve already collected my corpse so many times. Once more won’t hurt.”

Okay but big lol that JC doesn't get to collect WWX's corpse that final time. //sounds of sobbing

A smile appeared on his face, but then he immediately humphed.

He's so grumpy and adorable! I love him! pre massacre JC is precious and I just want him to have someone to bring out that smile again.

He literally didn't have to do this. He makes all these excuses how he'll be embarrassed if WWX is rolling around 😂 Perfection. Boy, you are still carrying him and he doesn't want you to stop.

Jiang Cheng, walk slower, you’re gonna throw me off.”

Not only did Jiang Cheng want to throw Wei Wuxian off, but he practically wanted to bash his head into the ground to create a human crater. “So fussy even though I’m carrying you!”

“I didn’t tell you to carry me,” Wei Wuxian reasoned.

Jiang Cheng flew into a rage. “If I didn’t carry you, I think you’d hang out at their ancestral hall all day, rolling around on the floor. I can’t afford this embarrassment! Lan Wangji took fifty more strikes than you, but he walked away on his own, and you’re not embarrassed, pretending to be an invalid? I don’t want to carry you anymore. Get the hell off!”

“No, I’m wounded,” Wei Wuxian said.

Alrighty, like I'm just going through the entire book at this point.

Let me see if I can make this more concise:

Sacrifices himself despite his very dutiful nature that would oppose this. He throws away all his responsibilities for WWX, again and again, carrying on a tradition of favoring WWX over his own health and happiness. Citing: JFM favoring WWX to the detriment of his marriage, JYL dying to save WWX, and JC (exhausted and with little or no power) running into danger to save WWX ala distracting the Wen patrol and 2nd Siege.

Can't be honest in his affections and makes up excuses to do nice things for others.

Loves and understands his sister. She wanted JZX so he made it happen when LLJ had absolutely no reason to reinstate the marriage contract between Xuanli. JGS notes in the CR arc that he didn't want the marriage for his son in the first place and that there were better options than YMJ, and that was before the war! JC helped her get to Yiling to show off her wedding dress! Even though she married out he still felt so attached to her son he couldn't not co-parent Jin Ling.

Yes, he has Zidian, but he also has a second horsewhip that he keeps on him which is very exciting to know.

The narrative hates him but he survives. (He survives because the narrative hates him).

Most BAMF entrance in the novel at the temple scene with the busting the temple doors down and coming in from the rain with an umbrella. Like sure the narrative hates him but small blessings that rule of cool still counts for something.

Mama's boy.

Just some dude, shows up late to treasury room nonsense, knows all the gossip, no one has faith in him including himself, but he keeps going and doing what needs to be done even when he's so so tired and his shixiong shows up 3 months late with a ghoul lady and a latte, or disappears to liberate slave property without warning first and now he's called into a midnight meeting after trying to get some much needed rest and now he's got consequences to deal with. Someone help him!

An expert at sneering. Threats as a show of worry and care. This makes all the little and brief smiles so much more endearing.

Sandu Shengshou is an amazing title, get out of here if you don't agree. Holy Hand of the Three Poisons? Brutal, perfect 💜 It gets used like, ONCE. Crime against me personally.

Link to Blorbo Sheet for JC

He loves, he hates, he wants to hate he's not allowed to love. Zero middle ground, he's all in and there's no way out.

//is shot and dragged off stage

But just as the Wei Wuxian of the past who’d extracted his golden core for Jiang Cheng had been unable to tell him the truth, the Jiang Cheng of the present could no longer bring himself to speak up.

#jiang cheng #canon jiang cheng #asks answered #twi posts #yunmeng shuangjie #quotes

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spadecentral · 1 year

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🧠 Leave This Place Behind | Misc. TWST

>> requested: no >> a/n: i got bored again lmao; also this is kinda shit :)

>> masterlist: ramshackle >> summary: you take pieces of them when you leave >> characters: riddle; cater; jade; rook; lilia >> warning(s): sad(?)

Riddle Rosehearts was not accustomed to things not going his way. He wanted you to stay forever, goddamnit. When you went through that mirror, he no longer felt free. He was stuck to his rules again. No longer did he have control over his life. Stuck again to the 810 rules, he was stricter than before. He would not accept even a toe out of line.

When you passed through the mirror of his nightmares, you took his freedom with you, and it was like you didn't care.

Cater Diamond took so many photos of your adventures together. With you he felt safe and secure. Like he was allowed to be himself. Taking photos to capture every instance of your lives, every smile from chasing him with flower crowns, every yelp from stubbing your toe, everything. And he took photos when you left too. But he could no longer be himself. His smiles in those photos were frauds, because how could he ever truly be happy without you?

As you were leaving him behind you were tearing his happiness to shreds, and you never ran back to him with a smile on your face.

Jade Leech had never taken you for granted. Not once. He cherished the time that you spent with him and was glad that you would be so kind as as to listen to his mushroom ramblings. He would talk to you with such a soft and loving look, it was almost like he was a whole other person.

Walking through that mirror you were covered in all the love he had left. Turning into a stone-cold man, he wouldn't be kind ever again.

Rook Hunt would always stare longingly at you, entranced by your beauty. He wasn't captured with anyone else quite like you. The way you held yourself to the way you talked. Everything about you mesmerized him. You anchored his seeking soul. You were what his ship was sailing towards all along.

When you said your final goodbyes, you were essentially walking off the plank. You were cutting off the anchor to his soul, leaving him to sail the seas for all eternity.

Lilia Vanrouge loved the happiness that you gave him. You made him feel younger than he was. Returning the energy that he gave was like a gift from The Seven. Always making his day brighter, he he wanted to be around you more and more for fear of losing what you two had.

Passing through the mirror, Lilia felt 400 times older. His bones creaked and his back ached. All he wanted to do was to lay down and dream about you.

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punkshort · 8 months

Text

Chapter warnings: language, violence, angst

A/N: this chapter might be a little slower than the rest, but I felt like it was important to establish how they are surviving. I tried to keep it spicy and interesting but please stay with me, I believe I have some great stuff coming up :)

Chapter Ten

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

October 2003

Pittsburgh, PA

It had taken you nearly a full month to make it 400 miles, having to stop frequently and rest for a couple days here and there, but you were halfway to Chicago. Your bodies were not used to the constant exercise, and it required you to rest more than you expected. Joel suspected you were both deficient in some capacity since all you had eaten was canned and processed food for a month and exerting much more energy than normal. You were holed up in a small cabin outside of Pittsburgh, about 10 miles away from reaching the city. Joel had broken into the cabin late last night, and the two of you collapsed into bed once he confirmed the place was empty. He had planned to stay here for a couple days, wanting to make sure you were both as well rested as possible.

The next morning, Joel was looking around the small basement of the cabin, his flashlight bouncing off the dirty concrete walls while you went through the clothes left in the dressers upstairs, determining which ones were suitable to swap out. With winter fast approaching, you both needed to find clothes with longer sleeves and extra layers.

His flashlight scanned over a rusted metal shelving unit in the far corner. He walked over to inspect the items, finding mostly cleaning products, insect repellant, paint, and other chemicals. At the very bottom he found a hunting trap which he picked up to examine, pleasantly surprised to find it was still functional. He took it upstairs and placed it on the small kitchen table, then went to find you in the bedroom, where he heard you opening and shutting the dresser drawers.

The queen bed was covered in clothes, women's clothes on the right and men's on the left. On the floor you had tossed three well-worn hunting jackets, and on the other side of the room was a pile of discarded clothes that looked like they were meant for warmer months.

"Makin’ some progress up here?” he asked, bending down to take a closer look at the jackets and opening the pockets to see what was left behind. He triumphantly pulled out a few batteries and a lighter, shoving them in his jeans pocket. He picked the jacket up and shook the dust off before trying it on.

"Yeah, we got some good options. I think the guy's clothes will fit you, her clothes will be a little baggy on me but that's fine, I can do layers," you said over your shoulder as you scooped up loose socks from the top drawer and tossed them on the bed, getting to work matching and rolling them up. "Did you find anything useful?"

Joel put the jacket back on the floor and picked up a second one, trying that one on before settling on the third, which was a little big on him, but the thick leather kept him well insulated. "Yeah, actually, I found a hunting trap. I'm gonna go out a little ways and see if we can catch somethin', I think we need more protein, we've been needin' to take too many breaks lately."

"You want me to come with you?" you stood up after matching up the last pair of socks.

"Nah, I won't be long, you keep workin' on this stuff here." Joel grabbed his rifle and the trap, closing the front door behind him and setting out into the woods.

The cabin was surrounded by a thick forest but there were a few trails that must have been forged by deer given how tall the grass and narrow the paths were. Joel walked carefully into the trees, staying alert for any threats. Out this far into the wilderness, infected weren't the problem. The pair of you hadn't come across any more people since that night in his apartment a month ago but he made sure you stayed off the roads as much as possible. You weren't as quiet or withdrawn anymore, but he noticed you were becoming hardened by the world you were forced to live in. He had seen the slow progression as you both learned how to take down infected as efficiently as possible. He remembered when you first had to do it: you were so scared he could see the switchblade shaking in your hand as you snuck up behind a dormant runner. As the weeks went on and you practiced more, you became more comfortable taking them down, but he also saw the hardness growing in your eyes. He knew it was just a product of your environment and it was essential in order to survive, but some nights when he was unable to sleep, he laid awake and imagined a world where he could be a shield for you, taking all damage, and you could be your warm and sweet self again, safe under his protection.

Being out in the wild without the comfort of an apartment helped quell his feelings for you a little. He was less distracted when he had to always be on high alert, forcing his thoughts off you and onto survival. But whenever you stayed in a safe spot for a few days, like this cabin, he eventually found his thoughts wandering back to how soft your lips were against his that night, the curve of your hips in your dress, or the way you moaned into his mouth. The forced proximity and the illusion of safety usually meant his body ended up finding yours in the middle of the night and pulled you close to him. You never mentioned it, and neither did he, but he knew it was a byproduct of trying to stamp out his feelings for you. It was almost like his mind was saying one thing, but his body was refusing to obey. So, whenever he woke and found himself tangled in you once again, he didn’t allow himself to savor the moment and quickly removed himself from you before his heart swelled and he would be lost in you all over again.

It was about a ten minute walk from the cabin before Joel found a good spot to place the trap. It was near a big bush that looked to be home to some kind of animal based on the prints in the dirt. He took a pink scarf out of his pocket and ripped a piece off, tying it to the tree branch above the trap. As he followed his footsteps back, every minute or so he tore another piece off and tied it to a branch until he reached the cabin. He pushed the door open and set the rifle down by the door. He heard you singing softly to yourself in the bedroom, completely unaware he had entered the cabin. The first instinct he had was to chastise you for not being more aware of your surroundings, but the part of him that was desperate to protect you ultimately won, and instead he stood in the kitchen to listen.

You left the bedroom with an armful of rags you had made from the summer clothes in the corner, lyrics softly leaving your lips when you saw Joel standing there and yelped out of fright.

“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me!” you exclaimed before taking your pile of rags to the couch and setting them down. “How long were you standing there?”

“Just walked in a minute ago,” he replied, giving you a small smirk. “Found a good spot for the trap, I’ll check it before sundown. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” He shrugged the hunting jacket off and draped it over a chair.

You nodded and headed over to the cupboard to see what the previous residents left behind.

“Are you hungry? We have some soup here, and some canned stew. What do you want?” You turned to face him with your hand on your hip, but his gaze seemed unfocused and his thoughts far away at your question. Moments like this felt so domestic and it made him ache. What did he want? He wanted everything you had to offer. He wanted to turn back time and take back what he said to you, before he ruined everything. He wanted domestic bliss where you made him dinner and he had you for dessert. He didn’t want to be fighting for your lives while you ate expired Dinty Moore.

His gaze refocused on you and replied, “I’ll take the soup.” He reached into his jeans pocket and found the lighter from earlier and got to work setting up a small fire outside while you rummaged around for pots to heat up the canned delicacies that awaited you.

Joel had just left to check the trap before it got too dark, and you were left scrubbing the pots in the sink until your fingers felt raw. You dreaded any time he left. You hated being away from him, and not because you were scared, it was something more. You figured it out when one morning about a week ago you woke up wrapped in his arms again, for maybe the third time, but that morning was when you realized you only truly slept well when he sought you out in the middle of the night to pull you close and breathe you in. You were always disappointed when he woke up and pulled away from you so fast, leaving you feeling ashamed for being the only one who wanted it to continue. You had to constantly remind yourself it meant nothing, that Joel only had wanted one thing from you by replaying how mad he got for not sleeping with him that night. He never apologized for it, and you know you shouldn’t care anymore, but sometimes when you let your thoughts wander, it bothered you.

You put the pots back in the cupboard and raked your fingers through your hair aggressively, looking out the window to see if you could spot him. You hadn’t had any moments between you like that day in the subway when you saw the heat behind his gaze as you ran your hand up his arm. You convinced yourself afterwards that you had misread the situation, that the look in his eyes was not one of passion, but one of disapproval, and the embarrassment for the way you behaved sat with you for the next week. Eventually, the embarrassment faded when your focus was redirected to surviving in the wild and learning how to take down infected. You were both becoming pretty good at it, so long as you had the upper hand and noticed them first. Only twice did Joel have to use a gun to take one down, so your ammo reserve was still well stocked. But there was something feral that triggered inside you when you watched him kill: the little curl his upper lip made when he made contact, the fire in his eyes when the adrenaline kicked in, the way the muscles in his arms moved from the force of piercing a knife through their skulls. There had to be something wrong with you, nobody should find something like that attractive.

You heard his boots walking up the small porch, but you put your hand on your gun, just in case you were wrong. He opened the door, smiling proudly and holding up a dead rabbit to show you, and set the rifle back down in the corner by the door.

“I’ll go skin it, get it prepped for later. We can finally have a real meal for dinner.” Joel said, still holding the rabbit in his hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his smile faltering a bit when he noticed your expression seemed a little distant. You shook your head and smiled.

“Nothing, I’m fine, just distracted today,” you assured him, then turned around to find a small bag of rice you had seen next to the soup earlier. “I’ll make this to eat with dinner.” You plopped it down on the counter and went back to the bedroom to review the clothes you had set aside. Joel’s eyes followed you until you disappeared around the corner. He could tell something was wrong, but he knew better than to push it.

Joel was right about needing more protein and rest. You both felt recharged after just two nights but allowed yourselves the luxury of one more night indoors before heading off towards Pittsburgh. The morning you planned to leave was when Joel had let his guard down and you awoke entwined with him again. It was early, the sun hadn’t even risen yet. You knew the longer you let him do this, the more hurt you would ultimately inflict upon yourself, but as hard as you tried you just could not bring yourself to be the one to end the embrace. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and willed yourself back to sleep.

Joel stirred when the sun shone into his eyes through the thin curtains, squinting and yawning. As usual, he detached himself from you quickly, frustrated with his subconscious once again. After using the bathroom, he went outside to start a fire. The air was crisp and there was a sharp autumn wind that took his breath away. He huddled in his new jacket and shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the fire to flare up. He looked up into the sky, trying to detect if any rain would be heading your way, but the forest blocked most of his view. He heard the cabin door swing shut and twisted around to watch you walk down the steps wrapped in one of the other hunting jackets and carrying a kettle in one hand and the jar of instant coffee in another. He reached out to take the items from you so you could go back inside and grab two mugs and a spoon. He sat down on one of the thick logs used for stools that were surrounding the firepit and waited for the water to boil. You came back out with the mugs but also had a couple bowls and packets of instant oatmeal.

“’Morning,” you greeted groggily, setting the items down on one of the empty logs and choosing a spot next to him. You yawned, looking around the forest and buried your face in your coat when the wind picked up.

“Sleep ok?” Joel asked you, knowing full well he was setting you up to ask about the way he woke up clutching you, but much to his relief, it seemed as though that topic was never brought up.

You nodded, saying, “Yeah, better than usual.” And left it at that.

Neither of you were morning people and generally didn’t speak much until coffee hit your system. You had been lucky so far and found reserves of it at most of the places you stopped, but you had to dip into the stash from your apartment when you made camp in the forest. You sipped your coffee and ate your oatmeal in silence.

“Next time we find a sporting goods store, we oughta look for a bow and arrow, somethin’ silent,” Joel mused as he scraped his bowl. “We should learn to hunt out here. With winter comin’, it would be a good skill to have.”

You agreed, grabbing both bowls and the kettle while he picked up the mugs and snuffed out the fire. It was probably pointless, but you cleaned your dishes and put them back. It was unlikely the owners of this cabin would find it again, but it just felt wrong to leave things messy. This cabin provided for you both when you needed it and keeping it clean and in its original condition felt like the best way to thank it.

After breakfast, you packed up all your new clothes and replenished any food and rags you could fit in your packs and headed back out on the trail towards Pittsburgh. The forest was thick and lush, and offered a lot of cover, so you were able to make decent time getting to the city, arriving in the early afternoon. You approached a cliffside, stopping there to eat lunch and rest for the first time since you left the cabin. Joel didn’t want to start a fire and attract attention, so you ate some granola bars, peanuts and shared a can of peaches while you surveyed the city in the distance.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked him, taking a sip from your canteen.

“Well,” he began, shoving the wrappers from the granola bars into his backpack, “I figure we should steer clear of the city proper best we can, especially the QZ. They won’t ask questions; they’ll just shoot on sight if they see anyone.”

You looked up at the sun in the sky, trying to determine the time. “We will have to find somewhere in the city that’s quiet, we won’t make it through before sundown.” You told him, looking back from the sky to meet his gaze. He nodded, impressed.

“Yep, you’re exactly right. Good girl.” he said, the compliment making you flush. “If we stick to the outskirts, maybe we can find a small shop or somethin’. But we’re gonna have to take turns takin’ watch, I don’t trust bein’ this close to soldiers.” he warned you, and you nodded in understanding. After you had spent a few minutes resting, Joel stood up, checking his revolver and tucking it back into his pants and zipping his backpack closed. You followed suit, shoving a rag back into your pack that you used to wipe some sweat off your forehead, and you both soldiered on towards the city.

It was approaching dusk as you and Joel finished clearing out a gas station in a quiet part of the city. There were only three runners inside, and you made quick work of taking them down silently. You helped Joel drag the last body into the men's bathroom, closing the door behind you. Joel wasn't thrilled with the building: it was filled with huge broken windows and left you too exposed for his liking, but the sun was waning, and your choices were limited. There was a small office tucked in the corner that you had emptied of the rolling desk chair and a few boxes of receipts so you could spread out your sleeping bag on the floor. Joel insisted on taking first watch, and you propped the door to the office open with one of the boxes so you could hear if there was any trouble before tucking yourself in.

Joel sat on the rolling chair by the front door, hiding in the darkness behind an aisle, every so often standing in a crouch to glance out the large windows for any movement. He was getting tired, but he still had a couple more hours left on his watch before he woke you. In an effort to keep him awake, he wandered over to the small electronics section behind the cash register, perusing the items on the shelves. His gaze settled on a Timex analog watch. He pried open the package and attached it to his wrist, adjusting the time to match the clock on the wall, assuming it was correct before sitting back down in the chair.

You had about 20 minutes left before he planned to wake you up. Joel was just finishing some beef jerky when he saw flashlights bouncing off a building about a block away. He straightened up in his chair, tossing the bag of jerky to the side, and hoisted the rifle onto his shoulder so he could see through his scope. He watched behind the aisle as a group of four men walked down the street in the direction of the gas station. He could see they were armed, noting knives in their boots, pistols holstered at their hips and two of them held military grade assault rifles. As they came into view, Joel scanned their clothes for any type of military insignia but found none. How did they get those assault rifles?

They were getting closer, but Joel still couldn’t tell if they were planning on entering the gas station or if they were just passing through. His hands began to sweat as he gripped his rifle tighter, his body tense and ready to strike. They were about 50 yards away when one of the men laughed at something one of the others said. The rest immediately shushed him, but it was too late. They froze as an unfamiliar noise echoed through the air from a dumpster they had passed half a block ago. Joel frowned, unable to identify the noise, but based on the reactions of the men, they knew. They whipped around, their backs now to the gas station, all four aiming their guns in the direction of the noise. It sounded like a high-pitched screech mixed with a gasp, then a distinct click, click, click. He heard one of the men swear under his breath, his voice sounding shaky as he shifted his weight back and forth nervously. The one next to him tried to get him to be quiet, but his nerves got the best of him, and a shot rang out, making Joel jump in surprise. In his peripheral, he saw you fly out of your sleeping bag, scrambling for your gun. He crouched as low as he could without sacrificing speed, and made his way over to the office, wrapping his hand over your mouth as you twisted around about to shout out to him. He put a finger against his lips, and only when you hastily nodded did he slowly remove his hand, turning back around to hide behind the front counter with you peeking over his shoulder, watching the scene unfold.

Two infected came ambling towards the group. At first, they stumbled and were slow, but when one of them shifted his weight and slid on some loose asphalt, they both let out a horrific scream unlike anything you had heard before and charged towards the group. Neither of you could understand the creatures you were seeing: they had a fungus growing all over their bodies but primarily on their heads, a mouth was the only facial feature you recognized since the fungus had completely grown over the rest of their faces. Blood had stained their throats and chests, their clothes were ripped and barely hung on, and underneath their skin looked wrinkly, but upon closer inspection, it appeared to be more layers of fungus.

The assault rifles were spitting bullets and bouncing off the clickers, as if the fungus acted like some type of armor. One of the clickers jumped on the man who had slipped, viciously ripping into his throat while its fingers dug animalistically into his chest and blood pooled in the street below him. Another man saw his opportunity and pressed his pistol to the back of the clicker’s head, firing and watching its body drop to the pavement. Then without hesitation, he aimed his gun at his friend’s head and fired, his body jerked once and stilled. In the meantime, the second clicker had made short work of the other two men, one already ripped apart on the ground while it continued its assault on the other. The man did the same thing: walked up and shot the clicker in the back of the head, and for good measure shot the other two men on the ground. He was now the last man standing, panting for breath as he bent over to rest his hands on his knees. That was when he noticed the blood seeping through his jeans and trickling down to his sneakers.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, sitting down in the road to lift the pant leg. Joel could see the telltale imprint of teeth and blood when the man aimed his flashlight at his leg. He dropped the pant leg back down and hung his head between his knees. Joel tightened his grip on his rifle, expecting the man to come to the gas station in need of first aid, but before he could blink, the man lifted his pistol up to the side of his head and fired, dropping lifelessly to the side and joining the pile of dead bodies in the road.

Joel twisted around to try to shield your eyes, but it was too late. You let out a shaky breath, one tear sliding down your cheek as you looked up at him, his face full of concern. His eyes traveled down and reached his hand out to cup your face, his thumb gently wiping the tear away. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you had to resist the urge to lean into his touch.

"You alright?" he whispered to you in the dark. You nodded, breaking the contact and standing up.

The whole attack took less than five minutes. Joel approached the broken window and leaned out, listening intently to see if the noise had attracted any more infected or people. You waited as Joel went to each window multiple times to confirm nothing else was around. Satisfied, he turned back to you, your eyes wide and still gripping your gun at your side.

"I don't think anyone else is around," he said, placing the rifle next to the office chair. You nodded, tucking your gun in the back of your jeans.

"What the fuck was that?" you asked, staring at the bodies. "So these things are evolving now?"

"Seems that way," Joel answered, leaning tiredly up against the wall. He fought to keep his eyes open, but you could see he was exhausted.

"Go get some rest, I got this," you told him, "I'll wake you if I hear or see anything at all, I promise."

Joel wanted to resist and tell you he wasn't tired, but a yawn pushed through and gave him away. "You sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead. You need your rest, and we have to get out of this city tomorrow." You waved him off towards the office and went to sit in the chair after you grabbed his rifle, using the scope to get a better look at your surroundings.

Joel didn't bother rolling out his own sleeping bag, he just tucked himself into the one you were using, your scent enveloping him as he drifted off.

The sun rose about an hour ago. You waited as long as you could before deciding to wake Joel. He seemed so tired last night, you wanted him to get as much time as he could, but you knew you needed to leave. Once you got back into the forest, you could rest again. You went to the back office, carrying a to-go container of dry cereal in one hand, and found him snoring on his side with his back to the door. You popped a few pieces of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in your mouth and leaned down to gently shake his shoulder.

Joel whipped around at your touch and grabbed your wrist firmly, his eyes wild. You dropped your cereal in surprise.

"Joel! It's me," you yanked your arm, but he still held your wrist in his grasp and it was starting to hurt. "Joel!" you said again as loud as you dared. He finally realized and let you go, stumbling back a bit as you rubbed your wrist.

"Shit, sorry, must have been havin' a bad dream, you alright?" he asked worriedly, opening the sleeping bag and reaching forward to examine your wrist. He brushed his thumb tenderly over the red mark he left, the gesture making you melt and leaving you with a pang in your stomach.

"I'm fine, it's ok," you said, taking your wrist back and turning away from him, trying to create some space. "We should get going, eat something quick and I'll refill our packs with any supplies I can find."

"You sure you're ok?" he eyed you carefully. He hated how you shied away from his touch. You nodded, opening up another cereal from the shelf and continued to eat while you inventoried the food in your packs.

You shouldered your backpacks and guns after you ate, getting ready to head out. After stepping out onto the road, Joel frisked the dead bodies and picked up some more ammo for your handgun, along with two extra flashlights. He checked the assault rifles, too low on ammo for him to consider taking one, but he did remove two of the knives and sheathes strapped around their ankles, handing a set to you. The roads seemed quiet, so you took advantage and got a move on, silently threading your way through the city.

November 2003

Cleveland, OH

The weather was turning cold and rainy, even a couple nights leaving a dusting of snow that melted early the next morning. You trudged along behind Joel in the pouring rain, trying to stay hidden and dry by walking underneath a raised highway. It was risky, being close to the roads, but Joel didn't see much choice. The weather hasn't been cooperating for a couple days now, and your journey had significantly slowed down. He glanced at his watch, seeing it was around 4pm. It was getting darker earlier now, and the storm clouds just made it worse. He sighed, shaking the water droplets from his curls, and looked around. You were near an exit ramp. He saw it led to a suburban area maybe two miles away, clusters of smaller one story homes that the builders made as close as possible to one another in order to sell more houses.

"C'mon, this way," he said over his shoulder, bringing you out of your reverie. You looked in the direction he was leading you and quietly celebrated to yourself. You were tired and soaked, you didn't want to set up camp outside again and the possibility of sleeping on a mattress gave you a second wind.

The two of you hid in some thick decorative bushes looking down a road called York St. All the houses looked very similar and close together, the biggest differences being the color the owners had chosen for the siding. Joel had kept watch for about an hour in this position, waiting until it got dark so he could see if any of the houses had flashlights or lanterns inside. You were squatting next to him, trying to control your shivering but the rain was pouring down hard, and your clothes were dripping wet, even under your jacket. Your teeth chattered as you inadvertently leaned against him for some warmth. Focused intensely on the homes in front of him, Joel's body tensed at the unexpected contact. He glanced down at you and saw your soaking wet hair and your lips a darker shade than normal.

“Alright, let’s see if we can get into this one right over here, follow me.” he said, helping you stand into a crouch as you jogged over to the yellow house on the corner. Joel peered inside the windows for a minute while you stood watch with your arms crossed, keeping an eye out for any light or movement on the street or houses. You heard a snap behind you, and you turned to see Joel had used his large hunting knife to break the doorknob. You sighed with relief as you followed him inside, shutting the door behind you.

You swung your flashlights around the room, Joel rushing to the windows and closing all the curtains as you inspected the house. It was small: a living room, kitchen, one bathroom and two bedrooms. Joel went down into the basement to make sure it was clear while you emptied essentials from your pack in one of the bedrooms. You pulled out a somewhat dry set of clothes and tucked them under your arm, heading towards the bathroom. You took your jacket off to hang up on the shower rod to airdry and got to work peeling the soaking wet clothes from your body. You figured you could just toss the shirts you were wearing and pick up new ones here, but you really liked the jeans you had so you did your best to lay them out to dry in the tub.

After you put some dry clothes on, you started to feel a little better, but you still couldn’t shake the shiver in your bones. Joel mirrored your actions after he came up from the basement, changing into fresh clothes and hanging up the wet ones to dry, making sure to take the keychain out of his pants pocket and transferred it to his new ones, and then met you in the kitchen where you were rifling through the cupboards to see if there was anything worth eating. You pulled out a bag of trail mix, some canned tuna, and a few cans of mixed fruit, setting them on the small table while Joel rooted around for some forks.

You were hungrier than you realized and ate quickly, all the miles you walked today catching up with you. Joel finally broke the silence after he finished a can of fruit.

“Which room did you want to sleep in?” he asked. This was the first time you stayed indoors where there were two sizeable beds. He wanted to give you the option, give you your space. You kept your gaze trained down at the bag of trail mix in front of you, considering his words. You knew he was giving you a choice, and it was completely up to you now on what the sleeping arrangements would be.

“I liked the room I put our backpacks in, why don’t we stay in that one.” you replied, still not looking up. We. Joel’s pulse sped up and he tried to hide his grin. You made the choice to stay the night with him, you wanted to be with him. It was probably just a habit for you, or maybe you were afraid to be on your own, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be apart from you, either, regardless if his reason differed from yours.

That night, he heard you softly snoring, laying on your side with your back to him like usual. This time he deliberately turned over and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. He breathed in your scent and nestled his face at the back of your neck as you let out a contented sigh, and small smile played across his lips as he closed his eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Taglist: @chiogarza.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic

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sixzeroes · 1 year

Text

walltalk.

summary | na jaemin has always been the bane of your existence—but he’s also been the centre of your sexual desires.

characters | villain!jaemin x hero!reader(f).

genres | smut, pwnp, bnha au, non-idol au.

warnings | profanity, brief description of blood, jaemin talks about murdering reader, slight hostage situation, sex, rough sex?, mentions of blowjob, use of ‘princess,’ giselle (and ten) lowkey cockblocking at the end.

word count | 2.2k.

so, this was actually posted on one of my old accounts before i decided to delete that and move here without anyone knowing. it did get around 400 notes, so if you recognise this, i am the original writer of it!! i don’t associate myself with that account or pseudonym anymore, but i just couldn’t let this one sit in my files so yeah :))

YOU CAN’T DIE YET.

It’s too early to bid goodbye to the world. There are many things you’ve yet to experience, and millions of people cheering you on. You still need to reach the number one spot. You still need to watch the new Disney movie releasing next week. You still need to try out the mint chocolate fusion that’s been the craze the past few days. You still need to travel to Greece and admire the Athena Parthenon. You still need to—

Bottom line is, there’s hundreds of thousands of reasons as to why your life must be prolonged. You’re a heroine, and your career has just begun.

No, you truly can’t die yet.

But Na Jaemin seems to think the opposite.

The room—prison—you’re confined to is dark, only a sliver of moonlight slipping through the barred window. In the middle of the room stands a chair, a blond man sitting with his chest against the back. His arms cross over the top rail, one foot tapping against the ground in a rather erratic rhythm. His all-too-familiar smile is terrifying, and you resist shuddering under his wicked gaze.

“Maybe I’ll slit your throat,” he muses, watching your every action. Ice forms along his hand, creating a claw-like silhouette in the dim light. You gulp, a little intimidated by his power.

“As if I’d let you,” you huff, sharpening your glower to prove his presence isn’t feared. “You’ve got nothing on me.”

That’s a huge lie. Both you and Jaemin know it. The blonde laughs at your revelation, the ice melting off of his skin. It hits the ground—drip, drip—and forms a puddle at his feet. “Your courage hasn’t changed, Y/N, but neither has the gap between you and I. You may be dubbed a strong hero, but you know better than everyone that you can’t beat me.”

He hasn’t stabbed you yet, but the harsh reality of his words burn a humiliating pain in your heart.

“What use is strength if your intelligence can’t keep up?” you sneer, referring to your high school era just like he had. “Don’t forget, you were always second to me in every theoretical exam.”

You barely flinch when an icicle crumbles against the wall beside your head. The skin over your left cheekbone breaks apart into a cut, a thin stream of blood tracing the curve of your face. Jaemin tosses the chair away, the loud bang leaving a ringing in your ears. He’s mad, and it’s because of you.

You can’t die yet, but you’re about to.

Fuck. All because you refused to follow Ten’s suicidal mission. Well, it’s not like yours isn’t life-threatening either, but there’s less lives getting claimed.

“You know, you always pissed me off,” growls Jaemin, crouching in front of you. Even though he’s left you untied, you make no move to attack him in hopes of escaping. And that’s the thing—you can’t escape, and you know. He knows. Na Jaemin is too strong for you to outrun.

You spit, “The feeling’s mutual.”

There’s no way you and Jaemin could ever get along with each other, much less develop feelings opposite to the word hate. In high school, it was always a battle between the two of you. Na Jaemin—first in practical exams, second in theoretical. And you—first in theoretical exams, second in practical. To be frank, the two of you would’ve been a formidable pair if it wasn’t for his egoistic attitude and your competitive personality. If it was doubtful then, it’s impossible now.

After all, Jaemin’s become the very villain he once wished to eradicate.

“I saw you on television, all your interviews, the blurry cuts of you fighting. Made me wanna wipe that stupid smile off of your fucking face.”

The rivalry between you and Jaemin wasn’t unnoticed by your peers during the three years of high school. But what most failed to detect was the sexual tension that brimmed beneath the surface of the enmity.

“I saw you too, on Wanted posters.” you hiss, wiping the blood on your cheek. It’s a little dried. “Looking all smug for a hero turned evil.”

Jaemin chuckles, prodding his inner cheek with his tongue. He looks to the side, then he glares straight into your eyes. “What can I say? The criminals are less corrupt than the righteous hero industry.” The blond man mimics quotation marks with his hand at the word righteous. “You, too, are a waste as a hero. Why don’t you join me? Wipe the damn system and build a new one from scratch. Doyoung doesn’t bite, you know. He likes pretty girls like you. I do, too.”

You don’t retaliate with phrases that glorify the hero industry. Jaemin’s right, albeit you refuse to outright acknowledge it. Instead, you snap, “Fuck you.”

He licks his lips. “Is that consent?”

Yes. “No.”

Your head jerks backwards as Jaemin grabs your face with force, a throb lingering from the impact against the wall. His fingers dig into your cheeks, thumb dipped in your drying blood. Your hands grip his forearm and he tugs you forwards, decreasing the proximity between his face and yours. It’s faint, but a peach scent surrounds the man.

Jaemin runs his thumb against your lips, and a metallic taste overrides your senses. “I’ll ask again, Y/N. Is”—he parts your lips with the push of his thumb—“that”—his nail grazes your tongue—“consent?”

A beat.

“Yes.”

Before you can release the entire breath, his hand wraps around your throat in a rough yet careful choke. With brute strength, Jaemin lifts you onto your feet, your knees buckling at the sudden exertion. There’s no time to adjust as his lips latch onto yours, snagging whatever oxygen you have left. He’s always been impatient, and even during foreplay, he shows no patience.

Your heavy pants fill the silence as he devours your lips, his tongue sliding against your tongue. Your lips that were chapped are now moist, saliva leaking from the corner of your lips. His empty hand situates itself on your hip, and you gasp when he runs it up under your shirt.

“Would’ve been sexier if you had your flimsy costume on,” he muttered against your lips. “Always wanted to strip you of that red abomination.”

“Sh—Shut up,” you groan, his hand grasping your breast. Your eyes flutter when he pushes aside your bra and pinches your nipple. The act leaves your core throbbing, aching for more. “Fuck, finger me.”

Jaemin kisses your chin. “If you blow me after, sure.”

You make the effort to glare at him. “I fucking hate y—oh.” Your jaw slacks as he shoves the hand on your neck into the warmth of your underwear, knuckles grazing the damp fabric.

“So wet, princess,” he jeers, using the nickname you loathed during the start of your youth. “I wonder who you’re so aroused for?”

“Jeno, obviously,” you scoff, and Jaemin pulls away from you, his touch leaving your skin. “Wh—hey!”

The blonde distances himself from you, licking his fingers clean of your essence. “Hm?” he hums, an eyebrow raised. “I’m not about to fuck a girl who’s got another man’s name on her mind.”

You lean against the wall for support. “Holy fuck, you’re so lame.”

“Run to Jeno, then.”

Fuck. You swallow his saliva from the messy kiss, and with it, your pride. “Shit. Fine, I’m sorry. Can you fuck me now? I’ll even suck your dick.”

Jaemin beams, and it has your pussy dripping. “Of course! Since my princess asked so nicely,” he sings, daintily taking your hands in his. Your heart stutters as he places gentle kisses along your knuckles, and then the pad of your fingers. It’s sweet, until he throws your hands up and restrains them against the wall with ice.

“How pretty,” he muses, trailing his pointer finger down your cheek. Jaemin bunches your shirt and bra so it sits atop your chest, revealing your bare breasts. You shiver from the chill, but are warmed right away when his hands roam your torso. A gasp rips from your throat when the man teases your pants down, sliding two long fingers into your cunt. Soft and shaky moans tumble from your lips, prompting Jaemin to move his fingers. His thumb—the blood clad one—circles your clit, fingers pulsing in and out of you with ease. He’s cruel, dragging the tip of his digits against the soft flesh of your walls.

As Jaemin fingers you, he seals your lips with his once again in a breathless kiss. Your tongue meshes with his, teeth clashing every so often. One hand returns to your neck, laying at the base in a tough hold. “Oh—” you mewl, “I’m so—”

Jaemin removes his fingers, and you fall limp, the restraints preventing you from crumpling to the floor. Your mind is hazy, but you manage to say, “You’re such a bitch.”

“Mhm, I am, princess.” he coos, unbuckling the belt looped around his jeans. Like you, he’s in casual attire, having dressed in civilian clothing when kidnapping you in the mall. He unzips the fly, head thrown back as he frees his hard dick. You whimper, biting your lower lip at the sight. “Aren’t you so honest?”

“Fuck,” you groan, touch-deprived. “It’s huge.”

“Can you make a condom?” he asks, slapping his length against your bare stomach. The precum smears all over your pretty skin. “I didn’t bring one, and I’d rather not get you pregnant.”

Jaemin’s either dumb or clever for relying on you to whip out protection. But you obey, formulating a packaged condom with whatever lipids left in your body. It pops out of your arm, and Jaemin catches it with a lopsided grin. He rips the packet open with his teeth, tossing the foil aside whilst rolling the plastic over his dick. You watch, counting down the seconds until he’s inside.

“Are you ready?” he whispers, lips grazing your ear.

“…Yes.”

Your answer is all he needs as he pushes into you, easily slipping in with the help of your lubrication. You release a shaky moan, eyes rolling back from pure pleasure. Jaemin hauls one of your legs over his bicep, and he catches your face in his hand. Your lustful gaze meets his, and you feel a thrill run down your spine at the look in his eyes.

He’s hungry—sex hungry, and you’re his doll to ruin.

Slowly, Jaemin pulls out before thrusting, the tip of his dick prodding your cervix. You cry out, hitting the ice wrapped around your wrists. Over and over and over again, Jaemin pounds into you, groaning the dirtiest words as does. Your back hits the wall every time his hips meet yours, but the pain drowns in the plethora of pleasure.

“So tight,” he rasps, speed increasing by the second. “You feel so, so fucking good.”

“Ah, oh my—god,” you whine, chasing his lips. He grants you a kiss, and you murmur, “Harder, fuck me harder.”

Challenges are a way to rile Jaemin up, and it seems he’s taken your plea as one. The villain grips your thighs as he lets out a low, guttural growl. He thrusts faster, at a speed you can’t comprehend. You’re seeing stars, tasting stars, in an absolute bliss no writer can describe. Jaemin stutters each time you clench around his dick, your pussy sending him into overdrive.

“Hey, cum for me.” he mutters, biting your lower lip.

You pant, running out of breath. “I’m close,” you chant, relishing the way his entire length fits inside of you. You beg, “Please—please don’t stop.”

“Keep asking.”

“Finish me off, Jaemin,” you moan. “I’m so close!”

Jaemin reaches for the restraints, melting them with his left hand. In one swift motion, he turns you so your cheek lays flat against the wall, ass out for him to see. He whistles, fondling the soft flesh. Your mewls don’t stop, spilling endlessly as he continues to slam into you.

“Jaemin!” you cry, clenching around his dick. “Close—close—so close—”

“Let it out, princess.”

And you do, orgasming with his dick still inside. You whimper when he keeps thrusting, chasing his high while simultaneously overstimulating you. Your mind is hazy when he draws his dick out, the condom full of his cum. Support is gone as Jaemin backs away, and you fall to the ground, recovering from the wild fuck you just had.

“Shit, maybe I should’ve come on your face,” he mutters, fixing his pants. Shirtless, he crouches so his eyes are parallel to yours. “You good?”

You spit and it lands on his chin. “I’m still trapped, asshole.”

“If you blow me—”

His words are cut short when the window explodes, the building crumbling from the impact. Both you and Jaemin glance over to the gaping hole in the wall, a confused Giselle standing atop the debris. She scans your half-naked body, then his lack of shirt, and analyzes the scene in no time.

“Ten! They fucked!”

A snicker flies from Jaemin’s lips as he tosses his shirt back on, ruffling his blond hair in amusement. The man glimpses Giselle’s preoccupied state and looks back at you. With a wink, he says, “I’ll contact you for that blowjob. Later, princess.”

You simply blink as he runs off, escaping before he’s forced to engage in a (tedious) fight. When reality hits you and your mind registers his words, a disturbed scowl settles on your face.

You can’t die yet.

And for now, Na Jaemin seems to think the same as he hints at an upcoming rendezvous.

#neohub #nct u #nct dream #nct #na jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin scenarios #jaemin oneshot #jaemin imagines #jaemin au #jaemin ff #jaemin fanfic #jaemin x reader #na jaemin x reader

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beesonhoneytoast · 2 months

Text

e x i s t f o r l o v e

And then I learned the truth How everything good in life seems to lead back to you And every single time I run into your arms I feel like I exist for love

Rafayel (Love & Deepspace) x GN!Reader

word count: ~400

The studio was silent apart from the occasional squawking of the seagulls out on the water just outside of the large windows. Apart from that, nill. Not even the pages you turned in your book made that much noise, nor the faint brush strokes of Rafayel’s paintbrush could stifle the peace.

You were sprawled on the luxurious sofa that had been brought into the studio specifically for you on days like this; where you just had a relaxing time in the presence of Rafayel.

“It's just for professional reasons. You give me inspiration for my paintings.” Translation: “I miss you too much to be here all by myself sometimes.”

You'd been too busy to spend quality with Rafayel lately. So the moment you knew that you had an available day to be with him, you took it to your advantage.

You know how he hated to be left alone for a certain amount of time. Then he would get all pouty and then start with the dramatics.

To compensate for the amount of time you were away from him, you promised to spend the night at his house and get dinner for the both of you.

Rafayel had put his paintbrush on the easel, and he had done a 180 on his stool to face you. A weary sigh escaped his pouty lips as he hunched his shoulders.

You held your spot in your book and closed it, now paying full mind to the painter. “What's up, Pout-Pout Fish?”

He slinked off the stool and hobbled to your lax form, falling on top of you, the action knocking the wind out of your lungs with a grunt.

You quickly accommodated to the feeling though, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him up onto you more.

Turning his head to the side, Rafayel nuzzled half of his face into your stomach, a sigh of contentment leaving him. His Tyrian purple eyes fluttered shut as his paint-stained fingers came up to caress your shoulder blade.

Your hands moved up to intertwine; one with Rafayel’s, and the other in his hair. Your digits combed through his fluffy, lilac strands.

Whilst your life as a Hunter was crazy and unpredictable at times, one thing that you found to be a constant in your life as of late was Rafayel. You relished in the quaint domesticity of his presence.

story written by @beesonhoneytoast. characters belong to love and deepspace ©️ 2023. divider creds to @firefly-graphics

#love and deepspace #love and deep space x reader #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deep space #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #gn reader #exist for love

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nekoannie-chan · 2 months

Text

Getting to know each other again

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 400 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: All Steve wants is to get you back.

Major Tags: Fluff, angst, mention of amnesia.

Additional tags: This is my gift to @sinceimetyou. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GABY!

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

Steve woke up agitated again. Again, he had that nightmare about the day you disappeared and how your body vanished between his fingers. If they had left him, he would have finished off Thanos himself with his own hands.

He had searched through many books, through your things, everywhere. He needed a solution, a way he could bring you back.

The emptiness of being without you was enormous, and nothing could fill it. He tried to occupy his mind with different activities, but one way or another, everything always came back to you.

Several times he thought that there must be some way to go back in time, and he didn't even care if he had to start all over again; he was able to do whatever it took to bring you back.

He ran as fast as he could when he saw they were coming back. He didn't want you to be alone; it would probably be too confusing. He didn't have much time to think about how he was going to explain to you what had happened.

He stopped when he was close; he took a breath; he needed to calm down first; you couldn't see him so upset either; although it was obvious that he couldn't hide what had happened, he couldn't wipe the passage of time from his face.

“Y/N," Steve said carefully.

You looked at him confused; you didn't know what had happened.

“What happened? What am I doing here? “you questioned, looking around you. Steve was about to answer you when you interrupted him. “Who are you?"

Now Steve was the one who was confused, but then he remembered that maybe there was a slight possibility that you had suffered a blow to the head just before you disappeared; in fact, you were unconscious when he hugged you before you vanished.

He bit his lip, trying to contain all the feelings that were welling up inside him. He managed to convince you to go with him.

"Y/N has amnesia." Those words kept echoing in Steve's head, but he wasn't going to give up hope, not this time; somehow he was going to make you regain your memory, and if not, then he was going to make you get to know each other again, like in the beginning, until you fell in love with him again.

He wasn't going to lose you again.

#Happy Birthday Gaby!#steve rogers x reader

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torukmaktoskxawng · 10 months

Text

tsamsiyu ta'em - a butterfly's wings

Masterlist - part eight

Summary: The forest is left behind and a vast ocean takes its place.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

Taglist (bold indicates “could not tag”): @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix tojisleftarm andyfromku

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

A/N: Thank you for 400 followers 🙏 ❤️

After quickly grabbing a few essentials, Kayla packed all of it up onto Thena and took off, not bothering to wait for the gunship knowing it was going to catch up to her right away. She flew high over the forest canopy until she was suddenly leaving the forest and gliding over the ocean. Looking over her shoulder, she stared back at the cliff sides leading back to the world she had only begun to know, starstruck and a little heartbroken. She stomps down her sadness and turns back around, stubbornly looking ahead. Norm and Max weren't that far behind her, idly flying at a safe distance between their gunship and Thena. Norm stayed in his avatar the whole flight and would occasionally talk to Kayla through their throat mics and earpieces to entertain each other, warning her of the long flight ahead. Using her new ionar to shield her eyes from the wind, Kayla was easily comfortable for the first few hours of the flight, but the inner, hidden child in her was so very tempted to ask Max 'Are we there yet?' after her back was starting to protest the whole trip.

Flying over the oceans of Pandora was breathtaking. It felt as if there was nothing between her and the water, floating over its vast blanket of dark blue like a dream... a dream that felt all too familiar but when she tried to grasp onto that memory, it slips away from her. Kayla could've sworn that she's been in this predicament before, but fails to remember when and where exactly.

Norm explains that their destination is Awa'atlu, a Metkayina village. It's an eight-hour flight by ikran, including three-hour rest stops for the animal. Norm and Max would've gotten there faster if it weren't for the fact that Thena needed to rest her wings occasionally. Kayla's weight wasn't an issue for her and the banshee could've easily gone all the way if it weren't for all the things Kayla had hurriedly strapped to her ikran's back. There were plenty of tall, rock formations randomly sticking out of the ocean. Rock formations as tall as the trees of the forest, standing alone due to erosion and evolution, with flat surfaces that had plenty of space for an ikran and a gunship to land on. The small group land to rest and stretch their legs for a few hours with the hopes that they'll only need one pit stop, then they continued on their way.

The first thing Kayla sees is a large island, the first she's seen since leaving the forest, surrounded by various smaller ones. As they flew closer, the island only grew larger and more beautiful. Kayla had to tilt her head up just to see where the very top of the island goes through the clouds.

Completely encompassing this island was a wall, but Kayla could only see a small portion of it as it wraps around and disappears behind the island, out of her sight. The wall looked to be made of twisted and turned tree roots, diving and weaving through each root like an overly large bracelet meant to only fit on the wrist of Eywa herself.

Norm was looking out in awe of the wall from the open doors of the gunship. His hair was flying over his face due to the harsh winds whipping around him, but when he looks off to the side to spot Kayla flying at a safe distance beside him, he could see the equal wonder in her eyes. He presses his fingers into his throat mic and tries yelling over the wind and gunship blades, "It's called an atoll wall! It's completely made of coral over thousands of years old. It keeps the Sea Na'vi somewhat protected, but it also helps with their ecosystem. While it protects them from overly large predators, the seawall also provides means of food."

Large ocean waves crash against one side of the wall like an unforgivable beast, while the other side is peaceful and calm, full of serenity and beauty. Kayla could see what Norm had meant as they finally flew over the wall, observing the large tidepools that run up and down the inside of the wall like stairs. Dozens of Metkayina People were occupying these various pools, with nets, baskets, and spears at their disposal. Kayla couldn't get a better look from that high up, but from what she could tell, the Reef People already looked vastly different from what she was used to in the forest.

She continued to look over her shoulder, still amazed at the wall behind her as Norm continues to educate her about it, "The Reef People believe that Eywa created the seawall to promote life and let it thrive inside its safety."

"Guys, we're here," Max announces through the radio.

Kayla turns back around, facing forward on her ikran. After passing the seawall, the vast dark blue ocean is gradually replaced by a soft aquamarine green beneath her, indicating that the depths were becoming more shallow and Kayla quickly realized to her amazement that she was now flying over a beautiful lagoon, flowing with all sorts of marine life.

Looking up, just two miles off the atoll wall was the village of Awa'atlu, which at first glance just looks to be a large gathering of mangrove trees hanging over the edge of the island and dipping its roots into the beaches. Kayla's breath is taken away from the sheer size of the mangrove trees that act as shelter for the hundreds of Metkayina dwellings that hang and weave between the trees' roots. Between each marui, she could see floating walkways, weaving in and around each of the Metkayina homes, connecting them all together as one, vast network.

A horn blows one, long note in greeting to the weary travelers and more than likely warning the village of newcomers. Kayla flies all around the whole border of the village, making several sweeps while the gunship hovers over one spot, patiently waiting for further instruction.

Eventually, Kayla spots two figures running out onto the beach, flailing their arms in the air to get her attention. Her heart squeezes painfully when she recognized the darker blue skin and flexible tails, standing out against the crowd of Metkayina. Kayla presses into her throat mic, "I got eyes on Devil Dog and Pathfinder."

"They're directing us," Max observes, keeping the controls of the gunship steady, "Looks like we're gonna be landing in those shallow sand dunes over there."

Norm nods in acknowledgment and presses into his throat mic, "Kayla, keep flying circles until we land. Then bring Thena in."

"Copy that."

The gunship finally lowers, as slowly and as carefully as possible even as crowds of Metkayina gather around the landing zone. Kayla continues to circle the scene from above, watching as the sand and sprays of water fly everywhere like swirling clouds, forcing all bystanders to turn away and shield their eyes before they are blinded, their hair wildly flying out of proportion.

Norm hops out just as the gunship begins to hover inches from the sand then softly landing. Norm moves over to Jake, extending his arm out to Toruk Makto and then pulling him into a brief embrace. Jake looked relieved as he affectionately slapped the center of Norm's back, both happy to see his old friend and relieved to have help finally arrive after contacting them hours prior.

"Hi."

"It's good to see you," Jake offered before following Norm back to the gunship, "Let's get the gear. Neteyam!"

Neteyam perks up over the roar of the blades and engine, directing his attention to his father as Jake shouts, "Neteyam, keep them back!"

"How is she?" Norm asks loudly as Max finally begins to cut and slowly turn off the engine. Norm had crawled back into the gunship and with the help of a frantic Jake, begins to start unstrapping and unloading the supplies from the ship.

"She's still unconscious!"

With one final, echoing screech, Thena gracefully lands, softly touching down into the sand. The ikran pants aggressively, taking large, violent breaths, exhausted from the journey as Kayla jumps off, disengaging from tsaheylu. The avatar doesn't bother to look around at all the blue eyes staring strangely at her before she's jumping into action and helping the others unload the gunship of its medical supplies. Max hands her a trauma kit before he, too, jumps out of the gunship, mask firmly in place, significantly standing smaller than even Neteyam as the teenager approaches to help. Neteyam takes one, brief moment to widen his eyes at the sight of his aunt before she hands him the trauma kit and flashes an encouraging smile.

They're practically dragged through the village in order to get to the Sully marui. Everything was moving so fast, Kayla felt as though she couldn't catch her breath. The group makes haste through the village, like a freight train. She had only been able to catch glimpses of the Metkayina as she passed by, not close enough to grab any smaller details but it was hard to miss their most prominent features. These Na'vi were clearly strong with their broader shoulders, flat, paddle-like tails, and strake forearms attached to large, wide hands. Their skin was lighter than the Omatikaya's, leaning close to that light, aquatic green that could easily blend into their surrounding reefs and lagoons. Their stripes didn't appear to have a purpose or pattern, but scattered and swirled like gentle ripples of water, as if reflecting sunlight through the ocean surface.

Before she could look further into it, Kayla was brought to the Sullys' new home. It was a large marui meant for a large family, on the edge of the village with a beautiful view of the ocean without any other pod obstructing it. Stepping inside, Kayla marveled as a cascade of glowing blue light fell over her skin. Looking up, she noticed the light coming from one wall of the tent where instead of the usual woven fibers and leather meant to hold a marui together was a thin, transparent membrane of an animal, dyed blue to allow light and color through the home like a suncatcher. Her wonder is broken as fast as it had started when Norm and Max speed past her to get to their patient, shaking Kayla from her admiration and getting to work.

With no time to waste, Kayla helps set Max and Norm up with their gear and can't afford to even look down and inspect Kiri for herself. When she's done, she knows that there's nothing else she can do, her expertise never going as far as scientifically or medicinally. With so many people completely surrounding the unconscious Kiri, Kayla exits the pod, stepping out onto the walkways and only now realizing that every step she takes causes her to bounce.

"Auntie?"

Looking up, Kayla's expression completely lifts when she noticed a small crowd of teenagers anxiously waiting outside the marui, two of which she recognized. Sighing in relief and holding her arms out, Kayla pulls Lo'ak and Neteyam in for a group hug, squeezing them tightly before stepping away to get a better look at them, "Look at you. You look so strong. Both of you."

And they were. Both Neteyam and Lo'ak had noticeably more muscle in their arms, legs, and torsos, their diaphragms shaped around their strong lungs. They were still the same height as before, but their style had slowly oh-so gradually changed from beads and brown twine into small seashells and dark green seaweed. Kayla beamed while looking over Lo'ak, her hand finding a resting place on the top of his head, "I like your hair, Lo'ak."

Neteyam smiles and adds to his little brother's sudden bashfulness by patting the top of his head as well, earning a hiss in response. The younger Sully boy no longer kept his hair loose, but pulled back in a simple hair tie, closer to the style Kayla has noticed among the Metkayina hunters. Lo'ak was cowering under the attention until he looked over his aunt's shoulder and his entire posture stiffens, spine straightening and eyes unable to look away from whatever was approaching. Kayla frowns and turned around just as Neteyam was herding her to stand off to the side. A small sea of Metkayina part two separate ways down the woven path and between them walks a female Metkayina.

Kayla wasn't sure what was the first thing she noticed about this woman. It might've been the sea shell ornament resting against her forehead, or perhaps it was the stone-cold green eyes or the facial tattoos framing them. The woven top shielding her chest was beautiful, fitted with a cascade of mother of pearl. Her skirt was clearly a symbol of her rank considering that Kayla has never seen another Na'vi woman wear that. The skirt was long, flowing, and decorated in dyed seagrass, shells, and flower petals. It only went up as far as her waist, gently hugging the woman's baby bump, her torso tattoos stretching and flowing around said bump like a wave.

She exuded regal confidence, easily earning respect from all she passed by like it was an honor to be in her presence. Her walk alone was intimidating, beelining for the Sully marui with a purpose. Behind her was a young Metkayina girl who was clearly her daughter, a twin in every way except for her height and lack of tattoos. The girl held a basket that was clearly full of healing properties and handed them to her mother when the woman turned around for them. The Na'vi woman didn't spare a glance at anyone, charging into the marui with a task in mind and nothing else. Clearly, the tsahik of the Metkayina.

Within moments of the mysterious woman entering the Sully home, Kayla could hear Neytiri's stern demand for everyone to leave. Frantic scurrying could be heard within the marui and Kayla couldn't help but roll her eyes at the three full-grown men, Na'vi and human alike, who could easily scatter with just one look from Neytiri.

Jake is the last one out of the pod, herding Norm and Max away, "Okay, everyone out. Give Kiri some air."

Norm and Max obey, crouching off to the side and going over what they did or didn't find while inspecting Kiri. Jake gives them a moment to go over everything while he takes the chance to get a better look at his sister. Looking around, he easily found her down the walkway, standing with his sons and anxiously waiting for news about Kiri. She still prefers to wear her red-brown crop top and cargo shorts, as he observed, but there are tiny pieces of Omatikaya culture now embedded into her style. Instead of her usual combat boots, she now goes barefoot and has lovely leather braided anklets on both ankles, her toes and fingers painted a warm, coffee-brown color. Her DMT tags are still dangling from around her neck, but as for her throat mic, Kayla has incorporated that piece of RDA technology into a beautiful red and orange thread-woven choker. The earpiece is still settled comfortably in her ear, but she has since gotten said ear pierced and she had a chain attached to both the piercing and the earpiece in case it dislodged.

He couldn't ignore the clear starting signs of a songcord hanging from the belt loop of her cargo shorts. There wasn't much of the cord itself with only one or two small beads here and there, but at the very end of it, resting against her thigh was a small compass about the size of a thumbnail.

It was both strange and uplifting to see, given the circumstances. His sister had clearly progressed in the clan since he left, but it was bittersweet knowing that he had missed it all, only now able to see what she's accomplished in the midst of saving his daughter's life. Jake wished that they had reunited under happier times, "Kayla."

She looks in the direction of his voice and clocks Jake making his way toward her, arms wide open for a hug. Before he takes another step she stops him with a simple, but very distinguished hand gesture, her fingers touching her forehead before she lowered her hand in his direction, bowing her head in respect,

"Ma tsmukan. Oel ngati kameie."

The greeting wasn't very genuine, but it was courteous at best. Jake immediately lowered his arms and cleared his throat, nodding back while offering a fleeting smile, "Good. You sound... good. And I saw your banshee flying in. Congrats."

"Her name is Thena," Kayla crossed her arms, still a little stiff with her words but indulged in the small talk, "I didn't learn as fast as you did, according to Norm, but he's been a big help teaching me when he can."

Neither sibling says another word. He doesn't ask and she doesn't tell. Neither admits to their prior faults or even acknowledges them, so Jake returns to Norm and Max, crouching beside them and starting to list off all the signs that had previously pointed him to Kiri's seizure. Kayla listens, but from a distance, listening about the time Kiri admitted to Jake that she could feel Eywa all around her. When Norm brought up epilepsy, Kayla slowly tuned it out, wishing she hadn't heard it in the first place. She didn't want to think about what this would mean for Kiri, thinking back to that little baby girl she saw on the video log.

A tiny pit of guilt lingered in her gut. She should've mentioned that she had seen the video logs. She should've at least told Jake she watched them all, but she didn't. At the same time, a stubborn part of her reminded Kayla that regardless of whether or not she watched them, she still shouldn't forgive Jake. The amount of apologies he sent her way doesn't justify what he had done, and no amount of apologetic video logs will ever fix that.

There's a cry coming from the marui that erases all troubling thoughts from Kayla's head, and all eyes look up and turn to the pod. Neteyam and Lo'ak don't hesitate to rush in after hearing the relieved sounds of their mother comforting Kiri as the poor girl cried. Jake also rushed in after them, eager to see if his daughter was alright. Kayla stands in the doorway and peeks in. The entire Sully family had joined Neytiri and Tuk in surrounding the distressed Kiri, comforting her and exchanging smiles with one another, grateful for this outcome. The only one that stood out in this picture was the Metkayina woman, leaning over on her knees to catch her breath, looking exhausted compared to before. With Jake's help, the tsahik stood up and moved to the door, only stopping in her tracks when her eyes lock on Kayla hovering just outside the marui. Both women stood completely still, Kayla's eyes widening while the tsahik's narrowed, reverting back to the intimidation Kayla no doubt felt when the woman first showed up. The reef woman's eyes never faltered from suspicion, moving slowly up and down while analyzing Kayla's whole figure, making her squirm underneath her avatar's skin.

Jake briefly looked up from his family and noticed the staredown between the tsahik and his sister before his expression twisted into a wince as if he was in pain. His thoughts internally made him cringe, drastically trying to come up with a good way to explain this to both clan leaders of the Metkayina. Gently placing his hands on both Neytiri's shoulders, Jake quietly announces to his family that he needs to go take care of some things before leaving the marui, passing by the tsahik, who only broke her gaze from Kayla when Jake gently guided his sister away from the pod's entrance. As the adult Sully siblings were moving, so were the Metkayina crowds outside.

The girl Kayla had seen with the tsahik moved passed her and Jake without a second thought and disappeared inside the marui, only returning with the former basket of supplies and her mother. Further down the walkways, Metkayina were crowding around and peering over one another's shoulders to get a good look at the newcomers, to which Kayla equally squirmed under their gaze as well, feeling like fresh meat hanging from a butcher shop window the way Jake was keeping her body in front of him.

When the Metkayina woman moved back around into Kayla's field of view again, Jake finally spoke up from behind her, addressing the tsahik, "This is a discussion meant for the olo'eyktan as well."

Their fathers' voice draws Neteyam and Lo'ak outside, leaving their mother and sisters to relax in each other's comfort. Both Omatikaya boys stood beside their father as pillars of strength when they noticed the way the tsahik was glaring at their aunt's presence, all the while both Norm and Max joined in when noticing the gathering as well. Murmurs fly through the crowds of Metkayina behind the tsahik, who was still weary of Kayla but nods in acknowledgment to Jake. She turns to her daughter and mutters something to her, to which the girl dutifully nods and leaves, disappearing into the crowd. Within minutes, the olo'eyktan was summoned to the Sully marui, and Kayla's eyes only widen further.

He had to be the tallest Na'vi she had ever seen, easily towering over both Jake and Norm. He also had more tattoos out of all the Metkayina People Kayla had seen so far, most of the ink gathered around his face, neck, shoulders, and chest. His hair was tightly braided back and out of his face, much like Kayla's, but unlike hers, his hair was unbraided behind his ears and loosely flowing down his back. On his chest, he wore a special garment that could only be the Metkayina's version of a cummerbund that look like fish scales running up and down one side of his torso and looping around his shoulder. Over that, he bore colorful braided knots and ropes, a ceremonial piece that clearly states his rank in his clan. In one hand, he carried a spear, and with that the weight of responsibilities he held in the village.

He stops in front of Kayla and Jake, glancing between her and the brother behind her with recognition. Despite the height, Kayla felt a little less intimidated by his gaze, one that was only curious and calculating while borderline cautious. His mate, the tsahik, dutifully moved to stand beside him, still staring Kayla down with suspicion and distrust.

Jake moves off to the side so that he could look between the clan leaders and Kayla, before lifting his arm in her direction to present her, "Tonowari, Ronal, this is Makayla Sully. Kayla, this is the olo'eyktan and the tsahik of the Metkayina."

With a closer inspection, Kayla realized that the Metkayina's eyes had two sets of eyelids when they blinked down at her, one moving normally up and down while the other was translucent and blinked sideways. Realizing she was staring, Kayla snapped out of it and moved to pay her respects, lifting her fingers to touch her forehead before lowering down in the clan leaders' direction.

The tsahik known as Ronal barely lets her do so, making a grab at Kayla's fingers when she noticed them and roughly pulled until she brought the hand to her eye level to inspect, nearly making Kayla stumble from her strength. She distastefully scowls at Kayla's four fingers and thumb, "Another one with demon blood."

Kayla turns to Jake, bewildered and slightly worried, "Is that what they call you?"

Lo'ak looks away while Jake is trying to scrounge up an answer. Lo'ak's refusal to look at his aunt is all the answer she needs before a brief wave of anger and the need to protect crashes and retracts in a singular moment, like a wave against the shoreline. Kayla quickly forgets her anger when Ronal walks around her, swarming her like a vulture as she grabs Kayla's tail. Kayla winced quietly to herself at the rough intrusion but otherwise didn't comment. She chalked it up as a tsahik thing. Mo'at always tended to forget personal boundaries as well.

"Her Na'vi tongue is terrible," Ronal continues to berate and insult, "It sounds like a baby still forming its first words."

Jake tried negotiating to the best of his ability without sounding like he was pleading or, Eywa forbid, insulting his hosts, "Tsahik, please. Kayla is my sister. We share the same blood. We were born of the Sky People."

Ronal pauses and looks at Jake, ears flattening as she replays his words in her head, "All Na'vi people know your story, Toruk Makto, and your story never mentions a sister."

Kayla's ears fall flat against her skull as she looked away. Jake solemnly nods to Ronal, "I know. Kayla has only recently arrived in our world. She had only been living among the Omatikaya for a little less than a year now."

A moment passes before her eyes flick back to Kayla, both women inspecting one another in that close distance, roughly standing at the same height. Kayla could see the way Ronal's eyes move to each and every one of her avatar features. The smaller eyes, the hairy brows, and then back down to the extra fingers and toes. Eventually, Ronal pulls away and rejoins her mate, while Kayla finally found herself able to breathe with her personal space now restored.

Tonowari takes one look at his mate before dividing his attention to Kayla, touching his forehead and lowering his hand in her direction, tilting his head down with a small smile, "Welcome, sister of Toruk Makto."

Kayla relaxes ever so slightly and nods back. When she opened her mouth to respond, the words are cut off by a small freight train crashing into her waist and legs. The air is almost knocked out of her as Kayla looks down, her fright instantly melting into a bright smile when Tuk looks back up at her, beaming excitedly, "Auntie!"

"Tuk!" Kayla bent down to her youngest niece's height, the clan leaders forgotten while she inspected the little girl, "Oh, my sweetheart, look at you... did you grow? I think you've grown!"

She tickles Tuk under her chin, the girl quickly retracting with a small giggle. Kayla smiles and places her hands under Tuk's arms and lifts her up, placing her on her hip before returning her attention to the adults surrounding them, bashful when remembering where she was as the Metkayina all stare oddly at her. Kayla summons her manners again and clears her throat, her smile falling as she stares directly at Ronal, leveling her voice to be as clear as she was able in their language, "Tsahik of the Metkayina. I am forever grateful that you took in my brother's family as your own. I don't ask to be sheltered among your people. I only ask that you allow me to stay for a little while so that I can keep an eye on Kiri and make sure she's healthy and no longer in danger."

Jake opens his mouth to speak but cringed and backed down after one brief look from Kayla quickly refusing whatever he wanted to say before he even could say it. The brother retracts and the sister brings her eyes back to Tonowari and Ronal, being sure to retain eye contact between them, "I will go if you ask me to. I will respect your wishes. I just want to make sure my family is safe."

Ronal's eyes narrow again, solely on Kayla. Tuk flinches and hides her face away in Kayla's neck, but otherwise says nothing as her aunt stares down the tsahik. The gaze is only broken when Ronal turns her body away from Kayla to face the olo'eyktan, who in turn, loyally follows her motion until he's engaging in a silent conversation with her using only their eyes and ears. Kayla had to commend them for their nonverbal communication skills. She had no doubt they made an excellent team as the leaders of the clan.

After a few moments of silence and bated breath, Kayla's gaze is met with Tonowari's, who spoke for himself and Ronal as the tsahik looks around at her people instead, "Jakesully and Neytiri have learned our ways from me and my mate. You will do the same as long as you remain here. Learn fast, and do not fall behind. Do not bring us shame for being useless."

Her brows shortly furrow before relaxing. Blink and you would've missed the confusion crossing over her eyes before she forgets herself and quickly bows her head in gratitude, "Irayo."

Tonowari nods back and follows Ronal through the crowd, walking away. Kayla doesn't have a moment to take a breath of relief before she's bombarded by her brother's family. Lo'ak immediately bounds up to Kayla when the tension is broken, excitedly rambling, "We have so much to show you! We've learned a new language so we can communicate underwater. And we can hold our breath longer, too! Wait until you properly meet Tsireya. She's a great teacher!"

"She's super pretty!" Tuk chimes in, resulting in Kayla laughing as Lo'ak's face flushes a darker shade of blue.

Neteyam and Jake round their guests up and bring them back inside the marui. Neytiri looks up from tending to Kiri and blatantly ignores Norm and Max in exchange for her eyes widening at the sight of one other avatar in the room. The Na'vi woman stood at the sight of Kayla in the doorway, holding Tuk on her hip. Neytiri let out a long breath of relief, a smile gracing her lips, "Makayla..."

Kayla beams, immediately moving around to hug Neytiri, who happily accepts the embrace. Kiri had managed to sit up with Neteyam's help and craned her neck up to see for herself, hiccuping while still trying to relax from all her crying, "Auntie?"

Her weak voice broke Kayla's heart, and so the aunt pulls away from Neytiri and hands Tuk to her mother before crouching down beside the teenager. Kayla flashes a soft smile, her hand reaching up to wipe away the tear tracks still fresh on Kiri's face, "Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Kiri mumbled, leaning into her aunt in a form of an attempted side hug.

Kayla gladly takes Kiri's weight and sits down fully, holding the teen close to her as support while running a hand through her soft, short hair, "That's okay. Take all the time to rest. You'll be back to normal by this time tomorrow."

From over Kiri's head, Kayla flashes a warning glare at both Norm and Max, a clear indicator to keep their mouths shut about her niece's condition. Jake feels a small ping of amusement when watching the way both Norm and Max stiffen under her scrutinous glare but otherwise say nothing. Instead, the scientists properly pack up their supplies in their respective places instead of feeling rushed, taking their time and catching up with the Sullys, exchanging stories and recent events. Lo'ak and Kiri pointedly stared at Kayla until she noticed, and one look alone drove the aunt to understand what they were asking. Her expression briefly falls and with a heavy heart, shakes her head in dismissal, further saddening the teenagers' moods. No, she hasn't found him yet.

The day was almost done and Norm and Max needed to head back if they were going to try and get home before night closes in. Kayla offered to see them out since she still needed a few things from the gunship. The Sullys all say goodbye and the kids even hug the scientists as tight as they could, nearly choking the life out of Max. He and Norm promise to check on the Sullys' friends and family for them back home and make Jake and Kayla promise to call if anything happens, then they left for the beach. Making sure all her needed belongings were with her, Kayla helps guide them with arm motions as Max begins to lift the gunship off the sand dune.

The ship rises and rises until Kayla has to crane her neck up to watch it disappear, her hand over her throat mic, "Rogue Two, you're clear! See ya guys later."

"Copy that!"

"Good luck, Desert Fox."

Kayla only returns to the Sully marui when she could no longer hear the rushing sound of the gunship's blades. By the time she returned to her brother's family, they were getting ready to go and join the village at the communal dinner. At first, Kayla was more than happy to hang back and avoid the Metkayina if that meant making them comfortable without her presence, but the Sully kids weren't having it. Tuk desperately tugged on her aunt's arm until the woman followed her to the large, communal marui at the center of the village. Acting as the center of this large network of homes, the tent was supported by the mangrove roots and all the separate marui hanging around it, connecting the entire place together through all the pathways dodging in and out in all directions.

Neteyam and Lo'ak purposely stuck to their aunt's side when they took their tree bark plates and went about grabbing a variety of food shared among the People. Nearly every Metkayina was staring at Kayla, but she stubbornly ignored it, pretending she didn't notice as she made conversation with her nephews. Tuk had run off to join a group of her new friends while Kiri kept close to Neytiri, still weak and tired from the whole ordeal. Plus, if a village person decided to approach her and ask questions about the incident, Kiri could rely on her mother to wrap a protective arm around her and hiss at them, daring the Na'vi to continue overwhelming her baby.

The tent was loud, full of conversation, songs, and storytelling. Everyone shared their food and in return, everyone shared a story, whether it was about their day or some past or fictional event. Children were laughing and playing, running and weaving around the adults as they ate, trying not to step on anyone's tail. The food smelled and tasted delicious. Kayla was delighted by the smoked fish with perfectly seasoned herbs and spices on top. She couldn't remember a time when she had something so savory.

When he caught a break in Kayla's conversation with his sons, Jake nudged her gently to grab her attention. With Neytiri on the other side of him, both parents pointedly stare at Kayla until she realized they wanted to talk to her. And to her surprise, they spoke to her in English, likely so no one else could understand them.

Jake first pointed out the color of her nails with a playful grin, "So how the Hell did you get a hold of nail polish?"

Kayla smirked mischievously, "Promise you won't tell? Jocelyn has a secret stash full of various colors. She's painted almost every avatar's nails and even some Na'vi's when they got curious. She made it clear that when I finish my Iknimaya, I have to let her paint them again before the ceremony."

Neytiri turned to her sister-in-law when she heard that, surprised as her mouth drops in shock and wonder, "Kayla. You completed your Iknimaya?"

Kayla smiled, albeit a little shy, "Well, technically I only made a clean kill and finished my ikran trial."

To her credit, Neytiri appeared remorseful, ears drooping and expression apologetic, "I am sorry I missed it."

"That's alright. I haven't done my Uniltaron yet. Maybe you can accompany me for that?"

Jake snorts, "I can't wait for you to experience that trip. So what else have you been up to?"

"I've been getting to know the locals while you guys have been gone, learning from them and obviously obtaining my own ikran. Tarsem and Norm were with me for that," she hesitates to mention more, looking back at her nephews. Neither of them was listening to her, instead lost in their own conversation with a friend of theirs, Rotxo. When Kayla peered over Neytiri to check on Kiri, she only found a teenager lost in her own, sad thoughts while focusing more on her dinner than the people around her. And with Tuk clearly elsewhere, Kayla turned back to Jake and Neytiri, "In between learning, I've been trying to track down Spider."

Neytiri frowned and looked down to focus more on her meal while Jake perked up, eyes hard in leadership mode when he realized he was discussing business, "Really? What do you got?"

And just like that, they've fallen back into military procedure. Kayla's voice naturally lowered and sounded monotone, "Our sources indicate he's still alive but beyond that, we haven't been able to plan a rescue mission."

"Do your sources know exactly who has him?"

Kayla was suddenly glad they were having this conversation in English while gravely reporting, "We did get confirmation that it is Colonel Miles Quaritch and his 'Déjà Blue Team' as they call themselves."

Jake's face falls in horror while Neytiri's screwed up with disdain. Kayla continues, "Technically, they're called Recoms. Avatars without a separate host. In Project Phoenix, the RDA took the memories of deceased soldiers from your war and put them in the brains of Na'vi vessels. This is not just personal for Quaritch. It's personal for all of them."

"Shit." Jake cursed under his breath, shadows of the past further darkening his eyes as he stared off into space, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. He didn't want to believe that was really Quaritch threatening his kids back there, but with the way Kayla described him, it was almost undeniably true, and it was like a ghost of his past, coming back to haunt Jake again.

"So you guys have a history," Jake turned back at the sound of Kayla's voice, her eyes indifferent while trying to find something in his expression as she knowingly stated, "Norm told me quite a bit. You were Quaritch's pet until you got soft."

"Watch it." Jake snarled darkly under his breath, teeth-baring faintly at her.

"Just saying."

"Then say less." They both fall into silence, staring each other down until Neytiri tapped her husband's arm. The motion brings Jake back to the present, mumbling to the point where Kayla could barely hear him, "Sorry."

Kayla nods, accepting it and returning the sentiment, but in her own, stiff way, "I was trying to make a joke. My bad."

Neytiri decided that it was time to change the subject, leaning over to get a better look at Kayla from the other side of Jake, "My mother. My people. Anything from them?"

Kayla struggled but eventually got past the intense conversation with her brother and forced herself to smile at Neytiri, sympathetic to her question, "The Omatikaya are strong. So far, life as they know it is still steady and as normal as it can be. Quaritch and the others still haven't been able to lead a proper assault on the Hallelujah Mountains. Most of the time, they barely leave a dent. Your mother is still tsahik until Tarsem can finally choose a mate for Mo'at to teach. She is the same as always."

Jake feels an elbow gently nudging him. When he looks in the direction of the offending limb, he finds Kayla trying to smile at him, attempting to lighten his spirit and offer a truce, "You were right. She is a dragon lady."

That earned her a tiny smirk and a small huff of laughter that only grew when Neytiri affectionately smacked Jake upside the back of his head. Hearing their father laugh made all the Sully children turn to their parents and aunt, demanding what was so funny as Tuk comes bounding back, wanting in on the laughter. It became a bit of a scene once Jake plucked his youngest child up off the ground and began tickling her, forgetting his demons for the moment. Tuk's squeals and giggles drew a lot of attention, but either the Sully family didn't appear to notice or didn't care about it in the least. Kayla and Neytiri had begun to laugh along with Jake and the children, their spirits lifted as they try to attempt to save Tuk from her relentless father. At one point, he even held the child upside down by only holding her foot, earning more squealing laughter from the little girl while Jake lifted her above his head without much effort. Neytiri frantically tried to keep her own hands under Tuk's head in case she fell while Kayla tried to get her brother to put the child down and keep things civil as they were beginning to disturb other Na'vi from enjoying their meals.

Little did she know that she was being watched like a hawk, her usual instincts abandoned in exchange for trying to make a grab for her squealing niece, unaware of the two pairs of eyes practically drilling holes into her back from far across the room.

A/N: I don't care if this chapter was short, I'm super damn proud of it. I had been struggling to write it at the beginning of the week and somehow I still did it! You gotta enjoy the little things.

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pwr3tties · 10 months

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⋆.ೃ࿔* COUCHES ! - ,,

includes: sae

warnings: slight angst with comfort, fem! reader, grammar errors, fluff, arguments, over 400 words and lowercase intended!

a/n: hello, it's me again, this is a pretty popular prompt, so i thought i’d try it! if you want a part 2, comment or message me with what character(s) you want, and ill try to make it!!

SAE — ‘you sleep on the couch ’

after the heated argument between your boyfriend and yourself, it was no surprise that one of you had to leave the house, or your neighbours might have called the cops to check on the two of you.

papers were scattered across the lounge, shattered glass and the match of sae’s soon-to-be opponents, which quickly became background noise due to the screaming match between sae and yourself. sae, being the petty man he is, left the house with a slam of the door, leaving you with nothing but your quiet sobs and the mess that was made during the dispute.

scanning the house, you began to pick up the shards of glass to prevent anyone from getting hurt, and by the time everywhere was tidied up, it had just reached 11 PM, and there was still no sign of sae. although the two of you had fought, that didn't mean you had no sympathy left in your heart.

reaching for your phone, you dialled his number as it rang once, twice, then thrice and soon went to his voicemail which was still set to default because he thought, “telling someone you’re not there when they already know is irrelevant.”

and after your 5th attempt, you gave up and quickly showered, then grabbed a few pillows and blankets, making a nice bed on the couch. the clock ticked 12:17 as the door creaked open, scared to wake you. sae slid off his sneakers as he tiptoed upstairs into the shower, hoping to get at least 8 hours of sleep before waking up for his morning jog.

around 12:50, sae finally infiltrated your shared bedroom and slipped into bed, rubbing the back of a pillow, which you were supposed to be. once sae realized there was no other form of life in the room, he rushed downstairs to where you were fast asleep with your mouth slightly parted as the moon hues hit your face ever so gently.

sae couldn’t help but admire you as he lifted you from your spot on the couch, carrying you up to your rightful place on the bed beside him. squirming, you fluttered your eyes open as sae plopped you on the mattress laying beside you. “sae? what are you doing?” you groaned, rubbing the sleep out your eye to see your boyfriend who had his face stuffed into your neck.

“sleeping..” he muttered softly, “that's what you should be doing.”

“I was until you brought me upstairs against my will,”

“just go back to bed, i have to wake up in a few hours.” sae groaned, fixing his position and squeezing your waist a little tighter.

“did you forget how you not only walked out on me but also listed ten different ways on how I'm ‘insufferable’?” you scoffed, gently pushing sae away.

“no,” he grumbled, slightly getting up.

“then what are you supposed to say?” amused by his behaviour, you settled your weight onto your arm, getting a better view of him. “‘m sorry, k. it was messed up of me to push you out when all you wanted to do was to care for me and help me to relax, i know im a horrible boyfriend, i might even be the worst one ever to exist, but please let me have this right now, my love.”

“who are you, and what have you done to my boyfriend?” you chuckled, ruffling his hair. “it's all me, promise. Now can we go to bed and talk about this in the morning like reasonable adults?”

“of course,

my big baby.” was the last thing you small while placing a kiss on his forehead and slowly drifting off to sleep in his arms.

word count: 528

a/n: hihihi, i was going to add more characters but i got lazy and decided you guys needed a post so yeah but pls moot me, im boreddd!! 😁😄😀😕🙁☹️😢😭

#blue lock x reader angst #blue lock #bllk sae #bllk x y/n #bllk fluff #bllk angst #bllk headcanons #bllk crack #fypforyou #anime #pwr3tties #pwr3tties writes #angst to fluff #angst to comfort

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bumblebugwrites · 2 months

Text

chapter 5: killer

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: Your very first Hunger Games as a mentor comes to an end, and you are forced to reckon with the aftermath.

Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Mention of Injuries, Character Death, Weapons, Violence.

Word Count: 9.3k

Taglist: @nekee-lilac02, @mr-panda357, @yourfavmiki, @blackoutdays13, @dialuvsbangtan

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Bee has disappeared, but the alarm remains silent, and the girl from 2 is still swinging. You force yourself to blink past the tears rapidly welling in your eyes; you will have to save them for later. As of right now, you still have a tribute in the Games. But where is she?

From his place before the camera, Lucky Flickerman cries out in excitement at the feat.

“And Little Bee from 10 pulls off a miraculous disappearing act!” He displays an array of cards, waving them back and forth before making them vanish in one smooth movement, punctuating the end of his sentence. To your left, Treech sinks further into his seat, frustration palpable. You are still standing, heart beating at the erratic pace of a jackrabbit, and time moves unbearably slow as you continue to scan the screen for some sign of life.

And then it comes, and really, you aren’t sure what to say. The boy from 11 appears first, crawling out the shrub’s other side before Bee joins him, her hand tightly clasped in his own. They are careful, making little noise as they emerge, but the quiet does not last. The moment they are on their feet, they are moving with a speed that can not help but be loud, feet pounding against the forest floor. The girl from 2 makes no effort to chase, seemingly accepting the defeat of the moment, and you note, with a sinking feeling in your chest, that Bee turns back, for just a second, to eye Colt’s unmoving form, sprawled across the ground. Still, she does not stop running.

It catches you off guard, the nudge from Teff, but you follow his finger as he indicates the television with Bee’s face spinning in a slow circle. Her sponsorships. They are increasing. You want to scream, to admonish the people of the Capitol for their pity money. She had no worth to them before, and now here was her grief, a commodity to them. You say nothing but give a curt nod in thanks to the District 11 mentor for pointing it out.

When the boy tugging Bee along eventually pulls her to a stop, it is in a clearing already occupied by another: Trawl’s girl, Mags. She spins on her heel, clearly readying a speech of some sort, but stops herself when her eyes settle on Bee.

“What the fuck is this?” Her voice is tense, not like you expected from the girl who put her life on the line to hold her District partner as he lay dying and took in the alliless boy from 11.

“She needed help; I saved her,” he says.

“We don’t need another person. She’s gonna slow us down.” And you know it is not her intent to be cruel, only logical, but her words sting.

“She’s smart. And she’s small; she can hide like me.”

“Jadam– I am barely taking care of us; what made you think I could handle someone else?” Mags’s arms fly out in exasperation.

“I just thought that–”

“No. Okay? I won’t kill her, but she has to go.” The panic in your chest begins to rise. You have to do something, and quickly, too. Your eyes flit to Bee’s mounting donations, beginning to dwindle at the 430 mark before traveling down to your screen and the price of bread. A single loaf would cost you 400. All her sponsorships out the window in a single move. Still, it is a risk you have to take, your chest constricting with the knowledge that if she loses this alliance, she will have no one. You slam down on the button.

On the screen, Jadam turns to Bee, an apologetic look painting his features. Mags only eyes the forest floor behind him, arms crossed and clearly set in her decision. In the distance, there is a noise.

All three heads dart up in seeming unison as a drone comes into view just above the canopy of leaves before beginning to lower itself slowly to the ground. There is a tin attached at the bottom, but the trio of tributes remain frozen with fear. It is Mags who eventually moves, after several moments of silence, to inspect the device. Slowly, she pulls the tin from the drone, before opening the small container. A note tumbles out from inside, and she dips to collect it, but her eyes do not leave the contents of the metal box. She is hungry; this much you know from having watched her closely the past two days. She has yet to eat.

“It’s for you,” she says, her jaw growing tight as her eyes travel up to meet Bee’s gaze. The smaller girl moves forward with caution and, after noting the bread, pulls it from the container and begins to tear it into separate parts, handing one to Mags and tossing a second to Jadam before squaring her shoulders and making towards the large expanse of woods ahead, her section of the loaf clutched tightly in her hand. Come on. Don’t let her leave.

She is almost out of sight when Mags calls out after her.

“Wait.”

Bee whips around, features unreadable as she pauses, allowing Mags to continue. The older girl only sighs, the sound dripping with defeat.

“You can stay.”

The sentiment has barely left her lips when your shoulders sag in relief, and you are off, headed for the doors.

“Bathroom,” you hiss at the Peacekeeper who moves to block your path, and he shifts to let you pass.

It is all you can do to halt the muffled sob that threatens to escape your lips the minute you set foot in the hallway. The heels of your boots make a distinct echoing sound as they come in contact with the cold marble floor, and succession of clicks is so loud you almost miss the second pair of footsteps ringing out behind you.

You whip around, prepared to warn whichever victor has just followed you out to stop tailing you. To plaster a blank look across your features and tell them you are fine. It is not a victor. You recognize Dr. Gaul from the beginning of the Games, clearly on her way in as you make your way out. She has made several appearances over the last two days, though none too prolonged, mostly spent at the back of the large room, whispering to the man with the white hair. To Snow, you correct again subconsciously.

“Ms. L/N,” she says, nodding in acknowledgment. “I saw what happened to that boy of yours. Pity, really.”

“I’m not really sure why you’re concerned. What’s one more kid when you’ve already killed so many?” You grit out, unsure where the courage to do so has emerged from, but holding firm. Refusing to look away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you must be confused. I was talking about the boy from 7. That’s too bad about his tribute. Although I must admit, it was disappointing to see the other one go. He truly would have made a strong contender. Much better, I’m afraid, than the little girl.” Fear, cold and sharp, travels down your spine at her words, and you fight the urge to flinch away from the woman, instead fumbling to defend yourself.

“Treech is not–” The doors to the lecture hall bang open, and the very man on your lips appears in the doorway.

“Interesting,” she notes with a dangerous grin before turning on her heel to enter the room. Treech eyes you with concern, one brow raised in confusion.

“What was–”

“Fuck off. You have to fuck off,” you cry out, and it almost sounds as though you are pleading with him as you swerve, avoiding his touch and making for the bathroom once more. All you wanted was a minute to cry in peace.

“What the hell? What is your problem?” He demands, anger creeping into his tone, but don’t respond, reaching the bathroom door and giving it a harsh tug. He slams it shut, planting a firm hand over your head.

“You. You are my problem!” You are inches apart, and your chest is heaving. Treech only looks lost, features plainly read for once. His lips are parted, body warm. The smell of cedar invades your personal space once more. You give him a shove, hard and meaningful, before darting inside the bathroom. He follows.

You want to scream in frustration, and the tears you have been fighting begin to wet your cheeks as he turns to lock the door, his eyes doing a quick scan of the walls. No cameras. At least as far as you’re aware.

“What is going on with you?” He hisses, and a wretched sob wracks your body. Treech takes a step forward, and you inch back.

“Don’t act so concerned now. You’re the one who said this had to be nothing,” you spit, knowing it is undeserved, but you are angry, and with rage wrapping its thick hands around your throat, it is difficult to see straight. To see who should truly bear the burden of your wrath.

“You said it first!” Treech looks exasperated at best, but he does not approach again, treating you like a wild animal of some sort as though afraid you might spook and disappear.

“You didn’t answer my letter!” Unfair. You are being unfair. But you will do anything to get him out of here. To make him leave you alone. Because at least alone, you are not a threat to his life.

“Don’t do that. Don’t put this on me.” He shakes his head, frustration lighting his features once more.

“So it’s my fault?” And by your third attempt to corral him out the door, you can feel your resolve weakening. Can see it in the mirror too.

“No! So it’s no one’s fault! You think I don’t– Every day I spend with you, I think about this. Us. And every day, I have to remind myself that it would get us both killed. But fuck, I–” His words feel heavy where they should fill you with excitement. With joy. And suddenly, awareness of your situation burdens you again. And he looks so earnest, the words tumbling from his lips in a regrettable stream. So vulnerable.

“Gaul knows.”

“Knows what?” He is taken aback, and you know it is not the response he wanted.

“She was calling you my boy from 7. She knows about whatever this is.” And once you have begun the words come pouring out in quick succession.

“She knows, and Teff and Trawl know. And at this point, I’d be surprised if Lucky fucking Flickerman hasn’t been made aware. And I am exhausted. And scared. And Colt is–” But you don’t finish, as all the emotions from earlier make their way back in, and the weight is unbearable, forcing you to your knees. Treech rushes forward, and this time, you do not stop him as he catches you halfway to the ground, pulling you close as he had two nights ago. And really, today’s frustration all comes back to that. Colt is dead, and no amount of screaming and crying will make it not so. Maybe that’s why you let it happen. Allow Treech to gently rock you on that bathroom floor and whisper soft words in your ear. Maybe that is why you turn to curl into his chest. To pretend, in spite of the lurking anxiety just beneath your skin, that this is alright. That there will be no consequences. No one to answer to. Just for a moment.

Treech reenters first, and by the time you step through the archaic double doors, it has been thirty minutes, and the girl from 6 is dead. You make for the back table, eyes fixed straight ahead, and pour yourself another coffee. Eight kids left. Something has to happen, and soon.

The walk back to your chair feels eternal, and you slump in your seat upon arrival, fixing the screen with your gaze. The sun has set, and Bee sits crosslegged beside Mags, who watches over the sleeping form of Jadam, his head in her lap.

“There’s no food out here. No water except for that fucking hellscape of a river. We can hide all we want, but we’re never gonna survive if we keep going down this route,” Mags sighs, her shoulders slumping.

“At this rate, we’ll all just starve to death,” she laments, eyes softening on their path over Jadam’s features.

“They can send us bread from the outside. Like today–” Bee supplies, a hint of desperation creeping into her tone. Your own gaze flits down to her sponsorships, measly and non-existent after your splurge on her peace offering.

“They need money for sponsorships. Money that no one is gonna send if we’re just sitting around doing nothing,” Mags reasons, and a sick feeling in your stomach tells you she is right.

“There’s food in the cornucopia,” Jadam mumbles, and you realize with a start he was only feigning sleep.

“What?” Bee asks, head turning to consider him and his words more carefully.

“There’s a whole box of it in there. I saw it on the first day, during the countdown. There’s apples, bread probably–” Mags cuts him off.

“Yeah, there’s also the boy from 1. The girl from 2. Or are you forgetting that?”

“I’m just saying–” Jadam tries once more, but the older girl will not let him finish.

“Well, don’t. It’s not safe. We’d be walking into an ambush. Completely weaponless. It’s not happening.”

Bee stands from her place beside the pair, brushing the dirt from her clothes before turning to make her way out into the woods.

“Where are you going?” And it is more of a demand than a true question, sharp and cold though tinged with worry as Mags asks it.

“Bathroom,” Bee explains easily, though her eyes do not meet the older girl’s before she spins on her heel and disappears. Your shoulders tense, gaze fixed on her departing form. Jadam rolls onto his back, eyes trained upwards on the twisted expression of concern on Mags’s face.

“She’ll be alright,” Jadam whispers, and Mags almost appears to flinch at the words of comfort.

“We’ll have to split from her soon,” she states, clearing her throat, and your own heart sinks deeper into your chest. It is true. They cannot stay together forever without eventually needing to kill one another. Still, Jadam asks the question you have already found the answer to.

“Why?”

“There can’t be many of us left, and I don’t want to have to kill her when it comes down to it.”

“What about me?” His words echo out across the room, quiet now from the lack of academy students, and you feel your gaze being tugged toward Teff, his brow creased into an unreadable emotion as he watches the screen.

“What about you?”

“Won’t you have to kill me? If we stay together?” There is a look that passes over Mags’s face, one you recognize from Colt. From the way he looked at Bee. From the way you look at Fawn. She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. The truth hangs in the air with a heavy silence, broken only when Bee reappears. She thrusts something onto the ground. An object, heavy in weight. A trident. Not just any trident, the one that killed Colt.

“Where did you get that?” Mags demands, shock evident in her voice.

“Found it.” You know she is lying. And you thank God they have no fire lit because you are sure her face would appear blotchy and swollen.

“What–” Mags begins.

“You said we were weaponless. Now we aren’t.” And a wave of pride passes through your system, at little underestimated Bee and her bravery. It is quickly smothered, though, by disgust with yourself, thick and rampant at the realization that she should not have to make this stand in the first place.

“Bee–”

“Look, there’s two of them and three of us, and now we can fight. We need food. So let’s go get food.”

Something big is coming; you can feel it in the way your hands shake, gripping the fine china of your mug. Only it feels sinister, and with each second that creeps by it settles into certainty. The 11th Games is coming to an end. All there is to do is sit and wait.

The girl from 3 dies in the night, along with the boy from 6, which brings the number of remaining tributes to six. Neither gone of natural causes though, you note, with a worrisome lurch of your stomach. The fierce duo from 1 and 2 is on the hunt, and they show no signs of stopping.

You feel uneasy as you fix the screen with a watchful eye, camera trained on three small backs, lying in wait. It is Bee who speaks first, turning to Mags with a hushed whisper.

“I’m telling you, they’re not there. They must be out looking for other tributes. This is our chance.” Mags appears hesitant but eventually gives a nod, and the three creep out from their place in the tree line.

They make the jump across the river separately, and though Jadam nearly slips, both girls lunge forward, pulling him to safety. A soft yelp passes his lips, but Mags is quick to shush him, jutting her head in the direction of the cornucopia. Her implication is clear: they could still be inside.

As they get closer, the three take care to press themselves against the wall, with the District 4 girl in the lead, taking a shaky breath before readjusting her grip on the trident in her possession and peeking her head around the corner. Her shoulders drop in relief, and she delivers a curt nod in the direction of the others. They are safe to move forward.

The trio creeps inside, splitting up to peel the lids off of several boxes and fish around their contents. There are several long beats of shuffling and silence before Jadam clears his throat, lifting his head with a sly grin on his face and producing from the confines of the plastic container, a bag of apples.

And you can’t help it, really, your own slow smile at the small victory, especially as glee and relief plaster themselves across Bee and Mags’s faces. Finally. A win.

And then there is screaming. Distant at first, but quickly approaching. And the camera view changes and the girl from 7, Treech’s girl. Hazel is making a mad dash from the woods towards the center of the arena, the pair from 1 and 2 hot on her tail.

“Fuck.”

The trio has barely made it to the mouth of the cornucopia when she makes it over the river, hurtling herself with a violent force, the remains of the pack just behind her.

“We’ve gotta go,” Mags begins to rush, ushering the pair of younger tributes ahead of her and making toward the bank. It’s then the ground seems to begin shaking, all six remaining tributes hitting the ground, and suddenly, the center of the arena begins to shrink, pieces breaking off into the river as the water continues to engulf the chunks of land indiscriminatley.

The girl from 2 is up again, a twisted growl darkening her features as she lunges Hazel, still splayed out from the fall. It is quick and merciful, the sword passing through her chest, and before you can truly process it, she has gone limp, and the buzzer signals her death. Beside you, Treech flinches.

On the screen, Mags’s head whips around in several wild motions, trying to calculate an escape route. The trio edges closer to the river, and the pair from 1 and 2 notes their presence for the first time, the girl turning her mean scowl on Bee, the mark of Colt’s attack stretched across her face in a jagged scar. She starts to run, and the ground begins to shake once more.

A piece breaks off, this time not unpopulated. Jadam hits the water with a splash. Mags lets out a cry of concern, lunging forward to pull him from the river. Her free hand connects with his, but there is a clear tug at his figure, and he screams in pain, accidentally pulling her in with him. The girl from 2 is nearly on Bee when both of them disappear beneath the surface.

One half of the pack takes Bee to the ground, and you resist the urge to reach for her. Beneath the water, there is movement. Both heads resurface, but Jadam’s lulls awkwardly to the side, and his eyes are unblinking. You feel like throwing up as the buzzer sounds again.

Mags seems to notice as well, her eyes welling up and a strangled sob escaping her lips. And then she is lifting the trident, stabbing down and something seems to give as she moves through the water towards the shore, gripping at the dirt and pulling herself up. Her eyes are cold, and she barely seems to notice as she turns, as though on instinct and impales the oncoming boy from 1 with her weapon before discarding him into the river.

The girl is next and, from behind, poses less of a threat. Beneath her, Bee has stopped struggling so much. Something is wrong. The trident pierces the girl from 2’s throat, and with several wretched choking sounds, she falls to the side, revealing Bee, drained of color beneath her. She is still breathing, though barely, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths and a large gash painting her stomach. She looks up at Mags with eyes filled with tears, and you wonder if the older girl will deliver the final blow just to get it over with. She seems to consider it for a moment, and Bee’s eyes squeeze shut, awaiting the impact.

The trident hits the ground, cast aside in one harsh movement, and Mags sinks slowly to her knees, pulling the younger girl into her lap. Her features grow tired, though admittedly warmer, and she begins to stroke Bee’s hair. You choke back a sob.

The careful braid you had pleated into her chestnut locks is almost completely undone, and Mags runs her fingers through the strands, undoing your work and then beginning to work at the knots that had formed in the Games. There is no need for the braid anymore. There will be no more fighting, no more days spent working in the slaughterhouse. Instead, her hair falls loose around her shoulders in the way a little girl’s hair should, wild and free. Uncontained.

“I’m so sorry,” Mags whispers, the words croaked and wet.

“Don’t be. I was never gonna win.” The response comes, weak and small.

“Could you do me a favor?” Mags only manages a nod, and Bee flashes her with a half-smile.

“If you ever make it over to 10, tell my mom not to worry about me. And that I love her.”

“I will. Of course, I will,” Mags promises, tears falling atop Bee’s fragile form. She is quiet for a time before speaking again, moving her hand to lay over Mags’s.

“Do you think there’s another world where we could have been friends?” The older girl’s lip shakes as she takes a minute before responding.

“I’d like to think we don’t need another world. That I can tell people we were friends in this one.” Bee smiles, real and bright, though fading by the second.

“That’s nice. Friends. I’m sorry it wasn’t for longer. I think I really would’ve liked getting to know you.” When she finally stills, Mags lets out a final shuddering sob before loosing a scream, angry like no other you’ve heard before. She does not hear as they announce her the victor, barely seeming to notice the Peacekeepers entering the arena through some passage in the cornucopia. Instead, she leans forward to press a kiss to Bee’s head and clings, shuddering to her form until they pry her from it, pulling her towards the exit.

The first thing you do upon arrival at the victor’s suite is take a shower. It has been days, and you scrub at your skin with a ferocity previously unknown to you, but the ghost of the Games does not wash away.

Trawl has been called elsewhere, likely to meet with Mags, but the rest of you have been told you will remain in the hotel until called upon for further ceremonies, and so you do. Wait, that is, as the hours tick by in a vile silence. Several of the other victors depart towards their rooms to rest or perhaps escape the group and the constant reminder they provide of the events that have just occurred. And really, you should sleep. In the last five days, you’ve probably only managed to crash for a grand total of two hours, and even that time had been dispersed in fifteen-minute chunks. But closing your eyes means seeing them. Colt sprawled out, his eyes still open and the ghost of a smile on his face in spite of his leaking chest, and Bee, whispering her final words to the girl from 4, her hair a messy halo in the grass. You wonder what will become of what is left of them.

It is a thought that has plagued you since your own Games, what the Capitol does with the remains of the District children. The first few years, they had shipped them home in boxes, though little had been done in the way of embalming, and often, the children arrived in a condition so bad that parents were denied the privilege of even seeing them. One year, the Capitol sent patches torn from the clothing of the deceased as a means of commemoration. But eventually, they ceased pretending to care about the families of fallen tributes, and in the last few years, when your child died, you were left with nothing but the memory of them and an empty grave.

Your hands shake as you enter the kitchen, barely noting the other mentors in the room. You haven’t eaten much in the last few days; the Games made you feel sick, and keeping anything down felt difficult. Still, the lack of care seems to be catching up with your body, so you force down some toast from the plater on the counter as well as a piece of bacon before turning to observe the suite.

You note Treech’s absence almost immediately, and though a good part of you longs for his presence, you know that after the events of yesterday, you should keep your distance. Teff is seated alone at the dining room table, hunched over and scribbling something. Probably a letter you note. Probably to Jadam’s parents or Olive’s. You shake the thought as it brings in a torrent of others. Should you be writing letters? What do you even say to the mothers of two children who will never see their homes again? Nothing. At least nothing they haven’t heard before, and certainly nothing that makes the absence feel any less cruel.

On the couch, Octavian sits, stiff as a board, his eyes glued straight ahead. The television plays something you don’t recognize and, therefore, must not be the news, but it doesn’t seem to matter to him. He stares blankly past the screen, gaze fixed on something you’re certain isn’t there.

Beside him, Antonia has begun to nod off, though she jerks awake every few seconds, eyes doing a desperate search of the room before landing on Octavian and, noting that he is safe, closing once more. Further down, several feet away from the pair, Lux sits, feet tucked primly beneath her and a magazine in her hands. You note that the pages turn too quickly for her to possibly be reading the text, but the movement seems to calm her, apart from the occasional fidget. You make your way over, taking the seat beside hers.

“What are you doing?” She asks without so much as looking up from the task before her.

“Sitting down?” You snark in return, sinking further into your seat.

“You can’t sit somewhere else? Further away?” She turns to face you now, nose crinkling in mock disgust, but you ignore the twisting of her features, hoping mostly for a moment of normalcy.

“Lux–”

“We aren’t friends,” she says plainly. And bickering with Lux feels normal, but her statement still strikes at an odd place between your ribs.

“Jesus, I know–” You begin once more.

“I’m not gonna sit here and play patty-cake and braid your hair.” This has you rolling your eyes, a soft snort escaping you.

“Would you calm down? I’m sitting next to you, not asking you to marry me.”

“Well, I would hope not; I’ve seen the wedding customs you have in 10; frankly, they’re a bit barbaric,” she taunts, flipping a long strand of hair over her shoulder and just barely missing your face. Still, there is something about the conversation that feels better than sitting catatonic like Octavian and staring at the wall.

“I’m sorry we can’t afford to be quite as gaudy with our ceremonies as–”

“Gaudy? We are very tasteful– I suppose you’d just have us walking down the aisle in work boots?” She sputters at the notion, and you know you are under her skin. Still, you do not stop, pushing forward with the jest.

“You know honey, maybe it would be better if we just eloped. I never really got the whole fuss around weddings anyways.” And suddenly, Lux breaks off in a laugh, though her brow remains raised in surprise as though she hadn’t been expecting to enjoy your company.

“I wanted a big wedding,” she admits after a long beat, turning to face you as though telling some sort of secret.

“When I was a girl, I would dream about falling in love and getting married. Perfect dress. Perfect venue. But nobody wants to lie in bed next to a killer. At least not back home. Not now. And by the time this Capitol plan kicks in and changes their minds, I won’t be me anymore, and that little girl will be long gone.” Her face has gone sour by the end of her confession, and you feel your own heart sinking in your chest at the turn in conversation. You want to say sorry. To reach out and comfort her. But she is Lux, and to do so would only encourage scorn, so you nod, trading a secret of your own.

“I always thought I would never marry. I wanted to work on the ranch like my dad; I thought that was what freedom looked like. And then it turned out all the ranchers ever really talk about is home. Their wives and husbands and how much they missed them. And I realized freedom doesn’t have to mean being alone. We don’t wear boots to our weddings. At least, not all of us do. It’s a ranching tradition. The whole bunkhouse saves up for a pair, and then the night before the wedding, you gift them to the person marrying into the ranch life. Like the things that are important to you become more important because they’re sharing them with you. And even though I didn’t believe in weddings or marriage, I started dreaming up those boots, what they would look like, and who would be wearing them. And then it didn’t seem so bad, falling in love.” Lux snorts at the notion, but when she dips her head to take in her magazine once more, there is a soft smile spread across her lips.

“You’re not so bad,” you say, quiet so only she can hear.

“I guess I’ve had worse company,” she replies, and you feel a piece of the weight chip away, just for a second.

For two days, the Capitol seems to forget entirely that you exist. Mags makes several television appearances accompanied by Trawl, but neither so much as enters the hotel. As for the rest of you, the space feels suffocating. At night, you escape to the lobby, seeking a change of environment and anything strong enough to drown out the Games that haunt you from every screen in the Capitol. The day proves to be more difficult, and you pass the hours making strained conversation with the other victors.

Several times, you consider writing Bee and Colt’s families, but the thought continues to bring bile to your throat, and you decide you will visit with them instead upon your return.

On the third day, there is a knock at the door. Several people enter all at once, including a pair of Peacekeepers led by a man you’ve never seen before. He has a sharp nose and eyes that remain guarded, almost appearing glassed over as he speaks. In addition, they bring Trawl and Mags, the former drawing you into an embrace upon arrival.

His companion shows signs of obvious discomfort, keeping close to her mentor as he makes his way to the couch. The man takes his place before the television, and you note he is likely here to pass on information regarding the next steps in this process, though you feel surprise creep into your system, wondering what has happened to Coriolanus Snow. Probably basking in the glory of his successful undertaking. It is a sour thought, but you have no doubt it is mostly true.

“Hello there, we haven’t met before. My name is Hilarius Heavensbee, and going forward, I’ll be working with Coriolanus Snow to oversee the mentorship program.” He is met with silence, but you all file in, aware there is likely a speech in store. He squares his shoulders before continuing.

“I’m here to let you know we’ll be keeping you here a little longer, mostly to get you prepped on what the first-ever Victory Tour will look like. Additionally, as part of our campaign to endear you to the public, each of you must pick a talent to cultivate and integrate into your personality.”

“Talent?” Antonia asks, a sneer decorating her features.

“Some sort of interesting skill. Drawing, poetry, dance, frankly, I don’t really care what you pick, as long as it’s something,” he says dismissively, though his posture conveys that there is a layer of deception to the aloof nature he presents.

“I’m good at chopping down trees. Can that be my talent?” Treech speaks up from beside you. Lux snorts, and he shoots her a glare.

“No. No, your talent needs to be something that distinguishes you from your district. Remember, on your new victor’s earnings, you will no longer be a part of the working class. This should be something you do for fun. A hobby,” Heavensbee prompts.

There is a wave of muttering that passes through the room, and you hear as several times the words fun and hobby are tossed around in a tone that indicates little more than confusion.

“Right, well, you’ll have until the end of the day to decide on something. And try not to pick the same talents; we don’t need nine victors who can knit,” he says, clapping his hands together before moving to depart and leaving the suite buzzing with confusion.

“What are you doing for this stupid talent thing?” Treech does not knock before entering your room; only thrusts himself down across the end of your bed and waits expectantly for your answer after closing the door behind him.

“Well, I already know how to draw, so probably just sketching,” you shrug, though it isn’t really a question; you’ve already decided.

“Urgh, this is so dumb,” he groans, burying his face in the duvet.

“C’mon, there has to be something you’re good at besides using an axe,” you tease, your lips twisting into a smile when he lifts his head to send you an indignant expression before the emotion on his face melts into something more contemplative.

“Sometimes I make little… things out of wood. For my sisters,” he says, slow as though weighing the option.

“There you go,” you encourage, pleased to have solved the predicament so quickly.

“No.” He shakes his head, setting it back down with another sigh.

“What do you mean, no? It’s right there. And you already know how to do it.”

“I don’t want them to have that. It’s– I want that to be for me.” And you cannot blame him for that, though the thought had not occurred to you before, and you think of your own talent. Of how the sole surviving symbol of your teenage dreams to become a veterinarian was the skill you would now hand on a silver platter to the Capitol.

“Okay,” you nod, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Do you know how to play any instruments?”

“Do I look like I know how to play any instruments?” He quips, voice muffled by the bed.

“Maybe you could try the guitar,” you say, and it is mostly a joke.

“As if. Do you know how ridiculous I would look trying to play the guitar?” You resist a laugh at the thought.

“Please, the women of the Capitol are already practically falling at your feet; just imagine if you could serenade them.”

“Shut up,” he says, looking up at you with a pout plastered across his face. Still, you don’t stop.

“Play me your guitar, oh Capitol loverboy. Is it true? Are you really a tortured dark soul, like they say?”

“Shut up,” Treech exclaims, louder this time, and as the words leave his mouth, he lunges forward to muffle your remarks with his hand. You struggle to break free, laughter slipping from your lips as he pulls you closer in his attempts to silence you, but it is of little use as you continue to pester him with your remarks until you gain enough traction to whip around and face him.

You are inches apart when your eyes meet his, and the words seem to die on your tongue as you note the distance, or lack thereof, between you. And for a moment, the world seems to stop. And his lips are so close, his eyes so soft. You recall the feeling of his curls between your fingers. You think you will never forget that feeling. His nose brushes yours, and your eyes flutter closed, cheek leaning into the open palm inches from your face. But you cannot. You know you cannot. So you pull away.

“Treech–”

“I know,” he cuts you off, allowing his hand to remain outstretched for a moment before dropping it to his side. His eyes linger though, tracing each crevice of your face with a look you cannot quite dissect.

“I should–”

“I’ll go,” he interrupts you once more and stands to depart. And your heart feels as though it is heavy enough to crash through all your vital organs, sinking into the bottom of your stomach. “I think maybe it’s better if I stop staying in your room.” He doesn’t turn around, his words projecting out towards the door, and you feel the biting sting of tears forming in your eyes. You want to speak, but you’re afraid your voice will break and betray you. He is gone before you can even manage a shaky breath.

You do not speak with Treech the next day, silence providing a strain between you, though you spare him a glance upon Hilarius’s return when he announces he will, in fact, be learning to play the guitar.

Before his departure, the new hire announces that you are all set to return tomorrow, but not prior to engaging in one final festivity, a celebration set to be held at the President’s mansion. Lux nearly squeals with excitement, though the decision seems to breed more questions than answers among others. “They won’t even let you come in here without a security detail, and now we’re invited to a ball?” Teff demands, brow furrowed in concern. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“This is all part of the larger plan in reconstructing your image as victors. We want the people of the Capitol to regard you as favorites. That starts with getting you in the same rooms with them.”

“This is gonna be fucking miserable,” mutters Treech, and you cannot help but agree. You can hardly imagine a world where, upon being faced with you, the Capitol citizens can manage anything other than sheer horror. Still, if some party is all that’s standing between you and returning home, you’ll find a way to get through it, even if you have to grit your teeth and bite your tongue until it bleeds.

Your stylists arrive hot on the tail of Hilarius’s departure, and by 9:00 pm, you are all ready to depart. You find yourself standing by Mags in the center of the suite’s common space as you wait for the cars meant to transport the lot of you to arrive, and upon noting a fallen eyelash on her cheek, you reach out on instinct before stopping yourself and clearing your throat.

“Sorry, it’s just you have an eyelash,” you start, indicating its location with an outstretched finger. Her eyebrows lift and she quickly moves to dust off her cheek, but to no avail.

“Here, let me.” You reach out once more, this time making contact with her skin and brushing it from her face.

“It’s good luck, you know. They say you’re supposed to put it on your knuckle and then blow it off and make a wish,” you smile, offering it back.

“Thanks, but I don’t think any of my wishes have a chance of coming true.” You nod, quiet understanding passing over your face before moving the piece of her to your own knuckle.

“Well then, I’ll wish for both of us that tonight goes decently well.” You shut your eyes tight and huff the eyelash out into the room.

“You’re not supposed to say it out loud.” And there is the ghost of a smile on her face at your mistake.

“What are the chances it comes true anyway?”

That was two hours ago, and as it turns out, the answer is zero to none. In fact, so far, the night had proved to be a disaster. No self-respecting Capitol citizen wanted to be seen talking to someone from the Districts, and so, as expected, no one spoke with you at all. Picking at the abundance of food lining the tables that fill the garden had only earned you several hard stares, and there came a point where even talking to Teff felt frustrating under the weight of so many watchful eyes, and so, about thirty minutes ago, you had pressed yourself into a corner, brimming with the hope that you might get lucky and simply disappear.

At present, your gaze is fixed on Treech, locked in conversation with a woman you recognize as his mentor from the 10th Hunger Games. She is a pretty girl; hair twisted back and away from her face and a visage like a cherub’s. Not that you really take notice. Not that you’re jealous or anything.

“May I have this dance?” Your thoughts are interrupted by the sudden presence at your side, and with a jolt, you turn to meet Hilarius Heavensbee, looking slightly more preened than he had several hours ago in your hotel room. You cast another glance in Treech’s direction, though it reveals nothing new. He is still wrapt in his conversation with Vispania and you are still standing in the corner, only not quite so alone.

“Shouldn’t you be sneering at me with disgust from thirty feet away?” And really, he’s done nothing to deserve it, but you are not exactly in the mood to be extending courtesies, and his offer seems to you more like an attempt to get under your skin than anything else.

“Well, I would, but then you’d be stuck standing in this corner, and I cannot think of a worse way to waste a perfectly beautiful dress.” You only snort in response, but the words seem genuine enough, and he extends you a careful hand, which, after several moments of consideration, you take. He leads you with ease, you note, as you settle into the pattern of his practiced steps, and you begin to relax in spite of your newfound position thrusting you into the limelight. Your eyes flit back to Treech, who, having noted your presence on the dance floor, appears distracted from his conversation with his former mentor, expression unreadable.

“How’s your night been so far?” Hilarius asks low and quiet in your ear. This conversation is just for you, meaning your biting tone from before feels at liberty to return.

“Is that a joke?” You scoff, meeting his gaze with a single eyebrow arched in question.

“They’re warming up to you,” he reassures, gathering the implication of your words, and you mull over his comment.

“Yeah, to Lux and Beau. And Octavian, I guess.” This much is true. The three had been the most successful in engaging with the other partygoers, with Lux in particular managing to charm a group of Capitol citizens who have yet to depart from her side. Hilarius only sighs before seeming to make a quick shift in conversation.

“Do you know the real reason I’m dancing with you?”

“Well, given that I saw the ring on your finger the minute you walked up, I’m assuming it's not an attempt to get in my pants,” you chuckle, eyes traveling to the golden band on his left hand. He grants you a smile, though his head shakes in tandem with the action.

“Look around. Look at the way they’re looking at you.” And you do. And he’s right, you note, not even having heard his reason, because the people of the Capitol have stopped glaring, fixing you instead with looks of curiosity and interest. It’s working.

As the music comes to a stop, he steps back, taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to the skin. You nearly jerk back in surprise.

“Was that really necessary?”

“No. But you should see the look on your face.” You roll your eyes, casting your head around to gauge the reaction of your audience. The place beside Vispania is empty, and all that’s left of Treech is a retreating form headed for the house.

“I have to go, sorry,” you whisper, barely looking back as you set off after him.

It is not for lack of trying that you come up empty in your search for Treech, doing the rounds of both the gardens and the house for the remainder of the party to no avail. By the time you return to the hotel, it is nearly 3:00 am, and Treech is nowhere to be found. You crash into the soft padding of your duvet, not even bothering to wipe the makeup from your face, and the hem of your dress spills over the side of the bed, brushing against your ankles.

You think of Hilarius, of the dance you’d shared and the seeming sympathy he had lent you in his attempt to garner you even a modicum of support and respect. Your brain picks at his possible motivations: advancement within Snow’s ranks, better support for their sadistic project, a false sense of trust instilled in you as a mentor. Genuine kindness. You keep coming back to that answer, but it feels ignorant to let yourself believe, so you move on to other musings. To Treech.

It is incredible, you think, the amount of time he spends occupying your thoughts. You run your hands down your face, resisting the urge to curl in on yourself as you picture once more his retreating form. Was it something Vispania said? Or maybe, just maybe, was it you? Your dance with Hilarius? The thought feels indulgent, and your mind travels to earlier today. To your almost kiss. To the awkward battle, the two of you seem locked in, both wanting to give in but refusing for the other. Your mind begins to drift over the what-ifs.

There is a knock at the door. You are on your feet in an instant, though upon reaching it, your hand hovers over the handle. What if it’s not Treech? Or worse, what if it is? What do you even say? That this is doomed. That the two of you are doomed. You twist it open, and he doesn’t even look up as the light of your room floods the hallway, soft curls hanging down in his face and his frame draped against the entrance.

“I–” You begin.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He does not look up as he speaks, and his voice is strained as it travels in your direction.

“What?”

“When I’m with you, I can’t have you. When I’m ignoring you, you’re all I can think about. This is driving me insane. I feel like I’m insane and like no matter what I do, I’m losing. And I can’t just push it down anymore– Trust me, I tried. And I just knew I had to tell you. Well, technically, I’ve already told you, but this is the last time I’ll say it and–” And he is looking at you now, eyes wild.

“Treech–”

“When I saw you with him tonight, it felt like I was– Like I couldn’t– I’m not good at–” His struggle is palpable, but even as you move to interrupt him, you sense he has more to say.

“Treech,” you begin again.

“Like I was drowning.”

“Treech.” And this time, he doesn’t interrupt you as you move forward, placing a hand on his chest to still his breathing, which has become a bit erratic. He freezes, and for once, every emotion on his face is clear. Fear. Frustration. Adoration. It pools at the corners of his eyes as he looks at you. You are inches apart. Your mind flits to several days ago in the bathroom. To yesterday in your room. To all the nights you’d shared your bed. To that very first trip out to the Capitol, his pinky twisting around yours moments before you stepped out on stage. You take a shaky breath, and he leans in closer. Your noses are brushing. Now is the time to pull back. You can stop this here. But you can’t, not really. You don’t think an oncoming train could pull you away. Your lips brush over his, and his eyes begin to flutter close before opening once more, fixing you with a questioning regard.

You only need to nod once, and it is as though time, which had stopped, has started again. And the kiss, which is soft at first, becomes frenzied, his hands pulling desperately at your waist, your own traveling up into his hair. And you pull each other closer, impossibly closer, appearing for a moment to devour one another. Completely undivided. Completely unaware.

It is early the next morning when the call comes; it sets the phone beside your bed ringing, and in your haze, you reach towards the sound only to discover Treech, who is closer, has released his hold on you to answer it. His voice is heavy with sleep, and you decide later that it was sleep that rendered you too dumb to perceive the danger of allowing him to pick up the phone. The phone in your room. Your room in which he was not meant to reside. But he continues speaking, in short, snippy phrases, before hanging up and turning to press a chaste kiss against your cheek.

“I’ll be right back.” And again, it should have scared you, his getting up so suddenly to depart, but all you can manage is a nod before you curl back into the warmth of the bed, unplagued by concern.

Snow’s office is much smaller than Treech expected, though that does not prevent the cold from seeping in. He had been quick to dress himself after receiving the call to your room, a mistake he had only recognized after speaking. Not that it would have saved him the grief. It was him Snow was asking for, not you. That thought alone is enough to send a shiver down his spine. How had Snow known to reach him there? He pushes the thought away, toying with his hands nervously while the other man finishes shuffling through a stack of papers before turning to him with a nonchalance that should have almost lowered his guard. It does not. Treech only clenches his hands into two tight fists while waiting for the man in the pressed suit to begin.

“No need to look so nervous. As long as this conversation goes well, you have nothing to worry about.” Snow smiles, face contorting into the expression as though unsure how to proceed.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you here, though at this point, given your numerous indiscretions, I feel it should be a bit obvious.” Treech does not share the expressed sentiment and sets about wracking his brain for anything he might have done.

“Oh, come on, don’t look so confused. Your relationship? With the girl from 10? You didn’t seriously think I was that stupid, did you? And I mean, it was fine, all those sad puppy dog looks and missed glances, but then you had to go and do something about it, didn’t you?” Anything he might have done that didn’t involve you, his single gross oversight. And suddenly, it all falls into place. The call placed to your room, the teasing glint in Snow’s eye.

“How–” He begins.

“You’re in the Capitol, Mr. Elmore, my domain. There isn’t a single place in this city I don’t have eyes on.” And he’s not sure Snow even has to say it. But he does. And the words sink like a stone within his gut.

“Anyways, you’re in luck. It’s a simple fix, really. You cut ties with the girl, and I overlook this mistake.” Cut ties? He has only just gotten you within his grasp, and now he is supposed to, what? Throw you away?

“I can’t–”

“Oh, you can. And you will. I understand you have a family, several sisters? A mother? Not to worry, though. I wouldn’t start with them. You see, Miss. L/N happens to have a family as well. One that is very dear to her, as I’m sure you know. And wouldn’t it be a shame if that little sister of hers was reaped for next year's Games? A tragedy, I assure you, though it would make good press.” There it is. A threat strong enough to stop him in his tracks. A promise that his actions would result before all else in consequences for you and you alone.

“So what? I just stop talking to her? What if she won’t leave me alone?” It occurs to him that try as he might, it isn’t exactly in your nature to just let things go.

“Well, then you make her. Frankly, that’s not my concern. Just make it happen.” And just like that, you are gone. No longer within reach. No longer within reason.

“You can go now.” And Treech is nearly at the door before he speaks again.

“But Mr. Elmore? We’ll be in contact. See, there are a few other things I’d like to run by you at some point, and now that we’ve gotten to know one another on this personal level, I feel I can trust you to make the right decisions.” Treech’s gut twists at the dismissal, but he says nothing, thinking only of you. Of what he is going to say. Do. How he is going to push you away with all his unspoken confessions pressing at the backs of his teeth. He makes it to the end of the hall before throwing up.

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