#then a very long time period of him being lost and trying to help those in the east who dont want to be under sauron's rule | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vampyrsm · 5 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER FIFTEEN | SUGAWARA MICHIZANE

‣‣ Synopsis: Something terrible awaits the former Shogun's daughter, trapped in the maw of her enemy. The Shogun promises nothing but misery for one, and a marriage proposal for another. Eyes of blue see the true depths of her soul, and he bestows judgment upon her.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 7.3k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, descriptions of torture, descriptions of wounds, death, the Shogun has his own warning, as do the Zen'in clan, threats of noncon (it's very brief), misogynistic views, beatings with weapons.

Seas of rolling silver, a soft breeze that rolls along the tops of the Chinese Silver Grass, stray tops of the long flowering leaves fluttering along to be lost in the world. The grass is long enough to provide shelter, an open-topped enclosure away from the harshness of the outside world.

Your fingers brush along the feathered tops of the grass, watching it fall away and break away to float into the unknown. It was awfully peaceful here, a sense of serenity that could only be achieved in such a beautiful place. It has your lungs shrinking deeply to release a long breath, your muscles relaxing along with it.

The trees in the distance were a brilliant orange, leaves of Autumn falling away with the gentle breeze that rolled away. Autumn was always a favourite season of yours, to watch the leaves change colour and then to fall away when it was time.

A shifting in the grass next to you has your eyes drifting away from the golden horizon, and down to the man next to you.

Sukuna lays on his back, two hands tucked behind his head and the other two resting atop the lightly coloured kimono he decided to wear today. His face was the picture of bliss, his muscles entirely relaxed and if you looked close enough, the corner of his lips were lifted in a very subtle smile.

The sun painted him in a gorgeous softness, across his features and melted into the pink tones of his hair. His tattoos were such a stark difference to the light and yet he looked devastating. You wanted to reach out for him, to trace along those tattoos with the tips of your fingers until you could retrace them with your eyes closed.

Love. That’s what you felt for him. Fully and truly, you loved him with every ounce of your being. And that’s why it hurt to stare at him, to see the softness on his face that you knew he would never allow himself to feel. His chest barely moves beneath his kimono, a gentle exhale with an even softer inhale.

Then his eyes crack open, peering up at you through a squinted glance. The sunlight only amplifies the red of his eye, intensifying it until it looks like pools of crimson blood swirled there. The flecks of maroon were lost in the sea of red.

“Kill him.” He says, and his voice sounds like it’s a mile away. Like he’s whispering on the wind that brushes against the bareness of your face.

You open your mouth to reply, to ask him what he means by that, who is ‘him’. But instead, something icy cold washes over you from head to toe. Your body jolts at the sensation, and an ache blossoms in your upper arms and wrists. Your head slams back against something hard enough to cause your vision to swim momentarily.

Gone is the lightness of the autumnal sky and instead, you’re greeted with damp walls and dim lanterns. Your body shivers in the cold, and the sound of shoes on stone flooring has you looking around in the darkness. A man stands before you, a bucket in his hands that was most likely filled with the ice water that had been thrown on you.

“Welcome back to the Land of the Living.” He laments, chucking the bucket into one corner with a horrendous bang in the barrenness of the room. He takes steps towards you, and you can’t help but bristle.

You try to lurch your arms forward, to throw everything you have at him but you only move a few inches before you’re stuck in place. The metal tightly bound around your wrist hisses against your skin, or rather, it burns against the use of your cursed energy.

“Keep that up and you’ll have no hands left.” The man in front of you crouches suddenly, and you jolt at just how close he suddenly was. “So how about you relax, and listen to what I have to say.”

You lift your gaze from the long metal chains that you were bound with, and you smack the back of your head once again against the stone brick wall behind you. The man all but grins at your reaction, crystalline blue eyes dance with mirth.

Sugawara Michizane.

“Long time no see.” This close you can see the divine power that rests within those eyes, they swirl with something powerful and dangerous. Something that makes your stomach clench and that snarling darkness within bares its teeth in defiance of such power. “I bet you thought you killed me, huh?”

“No.” You manage to grit out the word. His cursed energy output was crushing, to say the least, and without your own to battle with his—it was like you were being crushed beneath a mountain.

“Oh?” He still smiles with white teeth, sharp canines on show. His hair is long, even in the bun he has it swept back in, stray strands flop over his eyes slightly when he tilts his head to follow your head when you droop in your restraints. “Did your husband tell you that?”

It takes everything within you to not spit in his face at the taunting tone of his voice, it certainly wouldn’t make your current situation any easier. So you let out the breath held in your lungs through a shaky exhale, and Sugawara seems pleased even with that. His eyes framed with white lashes dance between your own, and it’s no different to the first time you’d met him.

He’s not actually looking at you, but rather through you; into you. Picking you apart like a vulture would until it finds the juiciest part to eat.

Thankfully he doesn’t goad you further, instead, he stands up to his full height. You have to crane your head up to look at him, he wasn’t nearly as tall as Sukuna but even for a simple human man, he was exceptionally tall. Something about every aspect of him was different.

“You should thank me for being the one to wake you up.” He comments, brushing a hand over his hair to brush the stray hairs out of his face. You squint at the state of his hair, it certainly wasn’t the mandated style that the Shogunate had to adopt—he wasn’t a puppet of the Shogun, it seemed. “There’s a few people here who want to see if they can tame the demon whore.”

“I’d like to see them try.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t have access to your cursed energy anymore.” He scuffs his sandals on the floor as he drags the bucket back over towards you, flipping it over to sit down on it before you. “You have no way of fighting back. That’s how the Shogun wanted it.”

Bile burns at your throat. He wanted you completely helpless and vulnerable. A reminder of your position in the world.

“And you?” You try your hardest to not show the emotions that flitted through you. “Do you have no plans to break me?”

Sugawara is quiet for a moment, the light in his blue eyes a faint glow in the darkness of the room. You can feel the thrum of his cursed energy, it laps at your body like that of waves on the beach—he was reigning it in, he had no need to posture anymore.

He clears his throat, a shake of his head before his eyes dart down to look at the floor. “No. I wanted you dead, not because you were a traitor but because anything is better than being back in the hands of the Zen’in clan.”

“Then let me go–”

“Don’t be so stupid.” He snaps back in return, enough venom on his tongue to make your spine straighten. “You’re never leaving here. You’ll die here.”

“Kill me.” You seethe the words, jaw locking with the flex of it. Sugawara stares at you, the slight widening of his eyes tells you even he is shocked by your words. “Kill me before he makes a show of me.”

You don’t want to think of what you’re saying truly means. To die would be losing a part of yourself, you’d lose not just your life but Sukuna in the same breath. It pains you to even think the words, let alone speak them but it’s nothing but the truth. You’d rather be killed by a Samurai than paraded around by the Shogun until he inevitably mounted your head on a spike as a message—a message to those who harboured thoughts to disobey him, and to Sukuna.

“Don’t be foolish.” Sugawara snaps in retort, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “To kill you is the same as raising my weapon against the Shogun—I’d be as good as dead.”

The air grows uncomfortable between the two of you, a tension that could snap with the lightest of breezes. Your fingers curl into your palms painfully, the shackles holding you to the wall hiss at the flexing of cursed energy beneath your skin.

“Coward.” The word lands against his face with the bloodied spit that you aim in his direction. Sugawara rears back suddenly, gone is the composure of a Samurai and instead in his place is a man scorned. “I’ll kill you first.”

Sugawara moves far quicker than you can keep up with, it takes half a millisecond for him to cross the space between the both of you. Your head rattles for the third time since reawakening against the stone wall, a warmth blossoms there. His fingers are cold as they curl around your throat, and you can feel a buzz of something at the edge of his fingers.

He holds you there, just an inch between your nose and his own. His eyes are wide, the blue within almost blinding with how close he is to you. And despite how close he is, and how quickly he moved, his breaths are calm and collected. The energy that curls around his body protectively buzzes to life in the stale air of the cell, it bites into your skin and presses you further into the wall.

It’s crushing you.

Blood pools on your tongue, dripping from your mouth in strings of spittle when you grin up at Sugawara. That chained darkness within stirs awake, itching at your bones to be released. The shackles holding you whine beneath the pressure of both your own energy and the pressure of Sugawara’s.

Your lips tingle from the lack of oxygen, the pressure behind your eyes is nearly enough for you to concede—to give into the pressure and let it crush you. But Sugawara had chosen to bow his head to a Shogun he feared, a wolf with his tail between his legs is no wolf at all… instead he’s just a scared dog.

But as quickly as the pressure came, it was taken away. Sugawara takes three steps backwards and stands as straight as a metal pole. His energy vanishes as if it weren’t crushing you into the wall behind you. Your body sags immediately, the chains tug your arms harshly upwards and you can’t help but wince at the blistering pain already forming at your wrists.

“Lord Sugawara.” A voice calls from beyond the bars of the holding cell, and Sugawara holds his gaze over you for a few seconds longer before he turns towards the voice. “The Shogun has asked you to bring the prisoner to his private courtyard.”

You can’t see Sugawara’s face anymore but you see the stiffness in his shoulders, how he tenses even after nearly choking you to death. And you know not to show your own fear, to not bend beneath the all-encompassing icy feeling as the words settle into your mind.

The private courtyard. Away from prying eyes and lingering ears that may relay a message to his enemies.

“Very well.” Sugawara says with a half bow, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. The sound of footfall fades away until you’re left in the stifling silence once again. When Sugawara turns to face you again, his face is stoic—the blue in his eyes akin to that of a frozen lake, locking away any emotion that he may have felt just moments ago.

He’s uncaring when he pulls harshly on the heavy chains that hold you hostage, his hand wrapping them around his forearm to ensure you don’t run as soon as you get some leeway. A hand buries itself into your unkempt hair and yanks you from the floor, your feet protest against the coldness of the stone flooring.

“Hold your tongue and you may live to see another day.” The words are the only thing Sugawara says to you before he drags you from the cell, your feet struggling to keep up with his wide strides. Doors are opened before he reaches them, and you can only briefly glance over your shoulder to glance at where you have been kept.

You’d only visited the Zen’in estate a handful of times as a child. Your father had always preferred to live within the estate made by the Emperor, a housing estate fit for the Shogun but also could hold his hundreds of Samurai soldiers. But when you had visited the Zen’in estate, it was such a strange ominous feeling to step foot inside.

You weren’t heir to the Zen’in clan, and everyone sneered in your direction. Even as a child, hateful eyes watched you—as if they could see the future written on your very skin. Servants never looked at you, and the men of the family would often comment on how you’d be nothing but a child bearer for some of the lesser Zen’in family members.

Of course, your father had never been present for such comments. You doubt they would’ve said such a thing in the presence of the first Shogun, a man who had a warrior spirit like no other. Part of you wishes he was, to see the true wrath of your father at such a young age perhaps would’ve made the blow of his betrayal to you in the future much easier to swallow.

The stares of the Zen’ins are no different now, in fact, it may even be worse. Men snarl in your direction, spitting at your feet as you pass by and whispers of ‘demon whore’ is a reoccurring thing. You want to disobey Sugawara’s demand of holding your tongue and keeping quiet, these men were nothing but young boys who had been gifted a pretty sword.

They’d cower at your feet if they caught a whiff of the power that rumbles within.

A tug of the chains at your wrists has you stumbling sharply around a corner, the tatami mats are a nice change from the harsh stone flooring that lined parts of the estate. Light from outside streams through the open doors and windows, enough to tell you that morning had already broke but not how many days had passed since you were attacked in the village.

You take the moment to quickly glance over yourself, you were still in your kimono. The blood that had been fresh is now a near-black from how dried it became, the mud on your feet flakes with each hurried step you’re forced to take. Your wounds are healed, thankfully, the burns on your arms are non-existent and you wonder if you had done it yourself whilst you slept or if someone here had the ability to heal others.

Sugawara’s kegetsu shoes scraped against the tatami mats which each step he took. It was enough to draw your attention back to the man himself, you hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the dim lantern light of the cell. His clothes were made of the finest fabrics, you could tell that much. On his shoulders was a fine Mino; the cloak of straw swished with each step he took.

You wondered where he may have gone before interacting with you to wear such a thing. You’d only ever seen the samurai of the Shogunate wearing cloaks like that when it was raining, or when they had to venture into snowfall.

His traditional armour was stripped down however to the bare basics, you could spy the armoured sections on his upper arms and shoulders, as well as on his legs. He didn’t wear the traditional helmet however, the string attached to his straw hat was loose at his neck whilst the hat itself sat against his back. He didn’t look like he belonged in the Shogunate at all, you wouldn’t be surprised if he belonged to his own clan.

A man of his power wouldn’t bow to a Zen’in. Never.

The corridors twist and turn, the servants thinning out the further you stray away from the cells. The air is tense, even with the absence of cursed energy. You knew you were growing closer to your uncle, to the Shogun.

A large shoji door is slid open in front of you, and a tug on the chains at your wrists forces you to step over the threshold into the wide-open room. It was grand, for lack of a better word. It housed the Shogun, complete with his sleeping quarters as well as a large hearth and a multitude of shelves filled with scrolls.

It was just like your father's own personal quarters. Except your father had never, ever brought hostages into his home.

You’re dragged forward out towards the courtyard, it was much smaller than the main one where your uncle would hold an audience with his Shogunate and the surrounding villages. It was an enclosed space, cut off from the world, it was meant to be a place of relaxation and zen for the Shogun.

Instead, your uncle has turned it into a makeshift torture chamber.

Your uncle himself is standing at the edge of the wooden platform that looks down into the courtyard, and before him are two people. Bound and gagged, a man and a woman. They’re stripped naked, and immediately you can feel your stomach churning in discomfort as to what’s to come.

Slowly, Sugawara comes to a stop. His hand tightens around the chains slightly at the sight in front of him, and you can practically taste the buzz of his cursed energy when it flares momentarily before vanishing just as quickly. Wordlessly, he bows deep at the waist and in turn, drags down your chains which brings you stumbling forward in an awkward half-bent bow.

Except, you do not lower your head when your uncle turns around. He looks just like your father, a spitting image of his older brother. His face is cold, mouth a thin line and eyes darker than that of coal. His armour is absent, a clear sign that even in the face of the woman who had been housed with Sukuna for months is not a threat to him.

You want to make him choke on his own tongue.

“When they said you looked like a demon’s whore, I didn’t realise it was this bad.” The Shogun sneers at you, glaring down his nose where you still refuse to bow your head to a man like him. “I should cut your head off where you stand for such insubordination.”

Your lip twitches, a barely concealed curl of your lip in anger. The metal shackles at your wrists burn tenfold, whatever they had imbued into the metal is strong enough to completely nullify your ability to use your cursed energy—yet it still burns deep within, yearning to be released.

“But I have plans for you.” He says, raising a single hand and there’s a shuffle of feet from one of the cowering servants who drops a bow in his hand along with a dozen arrows. “You’re going to tell me just how to kill that bastard of a demon, and in return, you get to live.”

“And if I don’t?” You spit against your better judgment, and Sugawara spares you just a sideways glance once he returns to his full height.

“I think you’ll find yourself quite agreeable to these terms.”

His shoulders roll, and with it the haori he was wearing falls to the ground to pool at his feet. It’s effortless with how easily he pulls back the string on the traditional bow, the arrow lined up with the man on the left. Immediately the naked man quivers in fear, eyes wide and spit dripping from around the cloth gagging him.

So this was how your uncle was going to play.

“We’ll start easy, I don’t want to overwhelm your mind.” He snickers at his own words—a jab at the fact you were a woman, not because he was concerned for your wellbeing of being away for so long.

“Where is he?” Question one, and immediately you draw your eyebrows together. How did they not know where he was? Yorozu knew, which meant they knew where you were—...but they drew you away from the temple, they didn’t dare to step foot onto the temple grounds itself. Your Uncle glances over his shoulder at your silence, clearly noticing your confusion.

“He was sighted in the village after we captured you, but since then no one has been able to report back on his whereabouts. Given that you’re his… whore, we thought you might know.”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

The Shogun stares at you for a long tense moment, the bow in his hand creaks from the pressure of him holding the string back. “How unfortunate.”

The arrow whistles through the air, and immediately the man screams albeit muffled. You glance at the man, to find the arrow embedded in his thigh and the blood spills from the entry wound into the otherwise clean gravel below. The woman next to him wails too, her eyes puffy and red from crying—his wife. He had brought you a man and his wife.

“Fine. Tell me what he did to you.” Another arrow is drawn up, the string pressed against your uncle's cheek. He glares at you, and in turn, you glare back. Your silence is your answer.

A whistle and a scream, this time the woman. Her body convulses and you’re drawn to see the arrow had impacted her in the shoulder, the blood drips down between her breasts and pools in her lap. Her husband next to her screams for the both of them.

“How many sorcerers are under his control?” Silence. An arrow—the man’s stomach. He still lives.

“Is it true that he eats women and children?” Yes—but you remain silent. Your eyes never once leave your uncles this time, and you see the crack forming in his armour. He’s starting to lose his patience.

The arrow this time is aimed higher, and the sound is something only a dead body could make. It’s a thump, a tension that sits over the courtyard before a woman screams. It’s not a scream that could be put into words, a scream that comes deep from the gut. Pure agony, devastation and heartbreak.

The Shogun doesn’t break eye contact with you whilst he loads the next arrow.

“How do I kill him?” This time, it’s you who breaks. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, the grin on your face is something you’d seen on Sukuna’s face countless times—it was a demeaning grin, filled with malice.

“You can’t.” You snicker at the red of the Shogun’s face, his anger bubbles quickly. Sugawara at your side even shuffles a step backwards, his fingers still tight around the chains that bind you. “You’re too weak, all of you.”

The arrow is released before you even finish your sentence, the wails of the woman silenced before there’s an arrow pointed directly at you. The Shogun stands closer, the string drawn taut and his facial features are tight with anger.

You smile at him.

“General Jien,” Sugawara speaks up, bowing his head when your uncle's eyes flick towards the blue-eyed Samurai. “Killing her would be a waste.”

Jien Zen’in stays silent, his eyes remain locked onto Sugawara. His fingers twitch at the string, and surprisingly—you feel your heart lurch in your chest in a tinge of fear.

“Break her. Torture her, do whatever you need to. Lure the King of Curses in—she’s in good condition, there’s no evidence that she was mistreated.” Sugawara wets his lips, and you feel that darkness within snarl. “Clearly the King of Curses has only one weakness. Her. Kill her once we kill Sukuna.”

His words are worse than any wound you’ve ever received, it cuts deeper than any blade and is sharper than the arrow still aimed between your eyes. Sugawara had seen more than you anticipated, no doubt he could see the mixture of cursed energy within you—his eyes were something special.

And he offered your love for Sukuna up to the Shogun on a silver platter.

The Shogun laughs, his stance loosens and the arrow is lowered from in front of you. “I knew you were good for something besides those eyes of yours—” The Shogun grins, unaware of the bristling Samurai next to you. “Very well. I’ll have her sent back to her cell, and you can oversee the torture yourself. Make sure they don’t kill her, I don’t care about anything else.”

Sugawara bows deeply, the chains rattling and with it, you’re forced to bow. Instead of allowing your insolence to slip by however, you feel the bone in your calf snap. Your Uncle draws his leg back, moving much quicker than you anticipated—he too had a technique like your father's, like yours.

You crumble to the floor, your knees slamming into the wooden floorboards. Despite the stony mask you wore, you can’t help but scream in pain at the radiating ache that comes from your now shattered tibia. Your hands fall forward to try and catch yourself before your nose smashes into the floor, Sugawara does nothing but let the chain slacken lest you pull him down too.

Another crunch and your fingers are snapped beneath the wooden shoes your uncle wears. You scream again, and the Shogun laughs at the sound. You watch in horror when he grinds his heel into the ground, rolling it against your shattered bones and the skin that tore apart.

“What a beautiful sound!” The Shogun announces loudly, withdrawing his foot to allow you to see the damage to your hands. You can feel the burn of the metal at your wrists, but it’s nothing compared to the pain that thrums from your hands. “I like the way the whore screams, maybe I’ll come and visit her.”

Sugawara remains silent at your side, and you can feel the burn of his eyes on your hands. He did this, he’s the reason you’ll suffer beneath the hand of a cruel Shogun.

“Take her away. She’s bloodying the floor, who knows what she’s infected with.” The Shogun takes a step back, and you tense involuntarily at the sound of his shoes scraping on the floor. “If she’s reformed quickly, maybe you’ll want to marry her Sugawara. Strong children would serve me well.”

The pain is enough to ensure you hold your tongue, but the withering glare you send to the Shogun is enough to cause his spine to straighten. You hope when he stares into your eyes, he sees nothing but the date of his death and you as the executioner. You promise, no, you vow to kill him.

Sugawara’s hand buzzes against your back, and you can feel the burn of his cursed energy there. Not even he dares to drop his guard around the Shogun or you, for that matter. He helps you to your feet, and the pain shoots up sharply from the base of your heel to your hip bone. Your chest lurches with the pain, but you don’t gift the Shogun one of your ‘beautiful screams’—instead, you bite your tongue and stare up at him.

Before either of you can spit further insults and speed up the inevitable sentence of your death, Sugawara strides away. You’re forced to follow after, you hobble awkwardly on one good leg and another that burns with pain. You can feel the sticky wetness that drips down your calf, no doubt a bone has protruded yet that’s not enough to cause you to dip your head in defeat.

The corridors are still barren as you traverse them once again behind Sugawara, only the sounds of your grunting and heavy breaths. Sugawara doesn’t slow his pace to match yours.

“You’re a coward.” You spit once you’re further away from the Shogun, away from prying ears. “Nothing but a lowly dog who sits in the lap of a man who’d wear your hide as a coat if he could.”

“And you’re a foolish girl. If you told him what he wanted to hear you wouldn’t be dragging your leg behind you.” He snips back, an ice-cold glare over his shoulder is thrown your way. “And you’ll likely never wield a sword again. All because you’re a prideful whore. You truly believe Sukuna cares for you?”

“You do.” You retort, and Sugawara snorts.

“No. I just think you have something that belongs to the King of Curses, and he’ll want to ensure he gets it back.” That’s all the confirmation that you needed, Sugawara had definitely seen the vow or at least the outcome of it. He saw how your soul was tangled with Sukuna’s, how you were more valuable alive. You’d become Sukuna’s demise, a weapon to be used against him.

Your face hardens at that, just knowing you were to be used as a tool to lure in Sukuna sours your stomach. You wanted to believe he wouldn’t fall for it, but everything Sugawara said was true; you had a part of Sukuna bound to you. He would want that back instead of having it fall into the enemy's hands.

Sugawara doesn’t comment further, dragging you along behind him. The stares of the Zen’in clan are worse on the way back, they snicker and scoff at you. A woman who was meant to be strong enough to live beside the great King of Curses was reduced to nothing but a mangled mess. Your blood smeared across the stone floors, sank in between the cracks and not once did Sugawara stop.

The walk back to the cell is longer than it was on the way out, but once you get there, you instantly want to retreat back up those dreaded stairs. In the cells are three men, all of them with sickening grins and wooden sticks you knew to be training swords for children. Sugawara doesn’t falter in his steps, and the men all but part for him to pass by to allow the blue-eyed Samurai to reattach you to the wall.

With your back pressed into the cool stone once again, your arms spread wide at your sides and your feet trying desperately to touch the ground enough to alleviate the pain in your shoulders. Sugawara stands in front of you, with wide shoulders and enough height to block out the sight of the three men.

His eyes meet yours, and you see an emotion turning over in his eyes. He looked sorry. “Don’t fight them.” He whispers, masking his words with a rattle of the chains, double-checking you were securely in place.

You want to spit in his face, to curse him and his bloodline for daring to feel guilt for putting you in this exact situation. Instead, you keep your eyes locked with his when he takes steps back, the men behind him taking steps forward. You don’t once break eye contact with him, not even when the tall one with inky black hair steps in front of you.

A hand clasps around your jaw, rough calluses digging into your flesh there as he squeezes. Your jaw pops in protest, forcing your mouth to open and the man in front of you deepens his smirk into something that would be fitting of an Oni.

“The Shogun gave us special orders on how to handle you. We’re to break you.” Eventually, you drag your eyes away from Sugawara to stare at the man in front of you, you hope he can see the clawing darkness deep within you, you hope he can see his own death by your hand for daring to lay a hand on you.

However, he drops your head with a rough push into the wall behind you. Your brain rattles within your skull, and it takes everything within you to not let your eyes roll closed at the pain that radiates there. You barely get a second to breathe before something rips down your front, gone is your kimono that Sukuna had draped over you the night you had left the temple.

There’s a quick thwack through the air before the wooden katana collides with your stomach, you feel the skin break and tear from the sheer force of the hit. Your stomach lurches, and your body twinges with pain. Two more hits come swiftly after, each one from a man in front of you.

They all laugh at the way your body curls inwards on itself, and how your hands uselessly grab at the chains, uncaring for the bones that are snapped and exposed, which hold you up as if they’d somehow hoist you up and out of the way. A wooden crack of a katana against your thigh has your chest tightening, another across your breasts is enough to make you shriek in pain.

Your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip, the blood there tastes like acid on your tongue. Putrid with your failure, you had fallen for their trap. You had given yourself over to them so easily. You were the only one to blame, and you could only hope Sukuna stayed far, far away.

The skin across the front of your body blossoms with bruises and open wounds, your skin mottles and bleeds with burst blood vessels. But beneath all of that, you can feel the curling warmth just under your skin. It tries minutely to heal the damage done to your body, but the damage coming at you outweighs how little you can heal at a time.

You’re unsure how long you stay there strung up to the wall like a piece of meat, but the three unknown Zen’in members have taken an interest in using their fists and the hard wooden soles of their shoes to see who can make you scream the loudest. A crack across your face has your head reeling, the cool stone of the wall behind you is a welcome reprieve against your split cheek.

Their jeers and taunting comments are like waves of rocks, you hear nothing but the bashing of your blood in your body. The pounding of your heart against your ears is deafening, the rapid beats futile in trying to replace the blood lost.

A hand sinks into your hair, pulling harshly at the roots until you’re yanked forward to face the man in front of you. His face is speckled in your blood, and his eyes are wild with sick pleasure. “Is this why that bastard kept you around? You’re nothing more than a piece of meat—good for nothing but a good beating and a nasty fuck.”

You want to frown at his words, to show the clear disgust and disdain you feel for his words but your face is numb. The muscles in your cheeks burn with pain and you can hardly see out of the black-eye one of them had graciously given you with a swift right-hook.

“Maybe we should see just how good you are.” His tongue peeks out from his mouth, wetting his lips as well as swiping up the blood there. When he grins, the red is spread across his teeth. “Everyone knows the best way to make a woman obedient is to give her a nice thick cock—”

“That’s enough for today,” Sugawara calls from the other side of the cell, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is a mask of stony coldness, not an inkling of disgust for what he had to witness for God knows how long. “The Shogun doesn’t want her ruined. She’s to be my wife.”

All three men glare over their shoulders at Sugawara, but evidently, he must hold a higher rank in the Shogunate because they back off immediately. But not without a quick puckering of lips and spit landing on your body, seeping into open wounds and stinging against frayed nerves.

The cell is plunged into familiar silence, a welcome change from the sound of your flesh and bone breaking beneath fists and wooden training swords. Your body visibly sags against the wall, your brain fuzzy enough to stop you from flinching when someone crouches down in front of you. His hands are gentle at your wrists, loosening the chains in the hoops so you could rest fully on the ground.

Icy stone bites at your bare flesh, yet you cannot find it within yourself to flinch or air your discomfort. Sugawara brushes the hair out of your face, pulling strands of it free from your slowly healing wounds. He doesn’t comment on how you shouldn’t have access to even that part of your cursed energy, perhaps he had truly felt guilty for what you had been put through.

He sits with you, in the damp darkness of that cell. He doesn’t move away when you finally cry, the tears a coppery saltiness that stains your lips and drips from your chin. Instead, he lays a scratchy blanket over you—more of a sack than anything but it’s enough to save your modesty, if there was anything left to save.

You don’t remember your eyes closing, nor do you remember Sugawara sitting outside of your cell that entire day, and the following night to ensure no one had come to finish the job.

...

The previous day…

Snow dances and twirls beneath heavy feet, flakes of pure white nestle into pink hair and settle against broad shoulders. The village is silent, nothing but a whistling wind that blows through the ruined buildings.

Sukuna stands silent in the village, Uraume only a few paces away with their hands bundled within the thick sleeves of their robes. It had only been a matter of hours since Sukuna had tracked down the trace of your energy, it was faint as if someone had tried to cover up your tracks. But Sukuna could recognise it anywhere, after all, it was mixed with his own.

His feet come to a slow stop, and he glances down to the body partially buried beneath snow. They have no head, and it reeks of death already. He can see the traces of your energy here the most, impacted in one big puddle as if you threw everything at this unidentifiable body.

You put up a fight, a good one. Sukuna couldn’t help but feel pride at that, yet there was something that buzzed uncomfortably at the back of his mind. You were strong, yes, and you had done a decent amount of damage with your cursed energy. He can see the deep divots where you had used Cleave and Dismantle in equal measure against those who had trapped you in the village.

That discomfort at the back of his mind makes itself present when he takes a deep breath in, the mingling of scents and cursed energy burn at his nose. Only one person in the entirety of Japan could hold such divine power, one he had warned you about in the past. You weren’t meant to go up against Him alone, Sukuna was to be at your side—the both of you together would’ve been unstoppable.

“Show yourself.” Sukuna calls over the raging winds, his eyes still locked onto the fresh scorch marks that mar the wood of the dilapidated buildings.

Slow steps crunch against the snow, a dragging sound that could only be identified as someone dragging their long kimono through the snow. Sukuna lifts his head, and his eyes lock with gelid ones. Yuki Onna is otherwise flawless, there’s no hint of the horror that lurks beneath her skin and yet her lips carry a frown that looks awfully wrong on the face of such a woman.

Yuki Onna comes to a stop, with enough space between herself and Sukuna. Good, he thinks, she respects him enough to keep her distance.

“What happened here?” Sukuna demands, and the snow-like woman finally drifts her eyes down along the body on the floor, and again over the snow in the distance that looked undisturbed since the snow had begun to fall again.

“She didn’t run.” Yuki Onna starts, her voice like claws on ice. “I warned her, she did not listen.” Her words end in a hiss, and Sukuna only deepens his frown.

“Who attacked her?” He probes instead, all four of his hands itch to sink his claws into the cursed spirit and demand answers immediately.

Yuki Onna shifts on her feet, turning to glance again towards the undisturbed snow as if she could see just who or what had unfolded here. “A woman, with hair as pink as cherry blossoms. And men, only two survived. They tasted of deceit and ash.”

Sukuna’s chest rumbles in distaste. He had an itching suspicion that the Sun, Moon and Stars squad would be involved in your capture. He had only heard of one name, a woman with pink hair as described by the Yuki Onna. Sukuna knew much about the assassin organisation, it was a place for those who stripped themselves of names and held only names attaining to the solar system.

Except one. The woman. Takako Uro. Sukuna knew her, of course he did. He knew too that she would be dead at the hands of her own sooner rather than later, her name was a death sentence. To be named in a nameless group was to have a target painted on your own back.

He doesn’t bother to thank the cursed spirit for giving up the information, instead he turns abruptly on his heel and stomps his way back through the snow towards Uraume. The aforementioned raises their head again when Sukuna approaches, casting a short glance towards the spirit in the background who drags the partially destroyed body away into the shadows of the burnt out village.

“I need you to find out where the Five Empty Generals are currently hiding. Yorozu will be with them.” Uraume bows deeply at his command, but before they can leave he continues. “And find me Kenjaku. Her sudden absence isn’t unnoticed.”

“As you wish, Master Sukuna.” Uraume disappears in a flurry of snow, an icy chill blowing along with their cursed energy.

Sukuna remains standing in the village for a moment longer, his fingers automatically lifting from the warmth of his kimono sleeves to brush against deep cuts into the rocky surface of what was once a reinforcement wall of the village. It buzzes at his touch, and he can just taste on the tip of his tongue the amount of power you had thrown in this direction.

Those long claws at the tips of his fingers curl into the stone, scraping painfully loud before his hand is a tight fist. Sukuna couldn’t feel you anymore, that part that lived within him was quiet and dormant. Not dead but resting, locked away where he couldn’t utilise it.

Wherever you were being held, Sukuna couldn’t feel you. That slither of himself entwined with your own soul was absent, nullified by something stronger than himself.

The wall beneath his fist cracks and explodes, sliced haphazardly into nothing but dust and rubble at his feet. He would get you back, even if it was the last thing he did—he would ensure you were back with him, safe.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

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xo-cod · 5 months

Note

141 boys treating hyperfeminine!reader as goddess headcanons? 🩷

i got a little confused with what you mean lmfao, i hope this is what you wanted :') <3

ooc/rushed/can be read platonic or romantic 🤍

each of them are very territorial of you even if they don't mean it to be, it just happens especially because you're a precious thing they constantly want to shield away from the horrors of the job

even if you see it, they do try their hardest to limit the gory viewing of it

ghost grumbling about all your pretty items saying that it clogs the space but him secretly taking keeping a few to keep safe.

you know about it and he knows that you know but you never say anything about it

and he keeps them close to his heart on those days he's missing you a little harder <33

he's your handyman no matter what, has gone head to head with price on this

if anything is wrong in your apartment, he's there instantly fixing away with the tip of his tongue stuck between his lips if he's been at it for a while/lost in thought

he wants to do everything for you, has to hold himself back because he knows you're capable and very smart

but it's hard because you're a lil sunshine packed in a human that he can't help but want to squeeze

def gets cuteness aggression with you, cannot help it. will try his hardest to fight against it

gaz is so tender with you, he constantly appreciates every single little thing you do for him

could've bawled into tears at the time you cooked him breakfast complete with fresh hand squeezed juice and pancakes with syrup

and when you handed it to him with a sweet smile, he felt his heart crumbling into a billion pieces

bodyguard no matter where you're going, even if it's to the shop up the road he's coming along

soap has a small tendency to cling onto you whatever you're doing

it's not outright in a childish sense but moreso lingering touches and holding you subtly

it's just in his nature, he misses you so bad whenever you're gone on a mission and you're unavailable for however long that period is

fights price to come with you but gets shut down because he's needed somewhere else

could've cried about it, but he didn't ‼️

price didn't know how much he needed you until you came into his life

not only were you a competent intelligent technical analyst, the best he had on the team

but even off duty, how kind hearted and sweet you were with him

it opened a whole can of worms he thought hadn't even existed

they're all like little children when you're doing your own thing and they're just watching you

all of them being intrigued by your makeup, pointing at several things and asking what the purpose is

"why's is so pointy?" soap had found your eyeliner, looking in the mirror as he attempted his own liner but the poor thing ends up looking like a panda by the time he's done and awkwardly laughing as he hands you back an eyeliner pen that's a little broken now from how frustrated he got

"you waste money when you buy the same things. you just get one and stick with it" simon is loyal king to his own products, the same brand of shampoo he's been buying since the early 2000's is fighting for its life. will never understand why you buy so many blushes/eye shadows/lipsticks but likes watching you put it on

"i watched a video about this yesterday, here lemme help" gaz, always the perfect helper. because what do you means he's gonna let you struggle if your eyeliner is matching on both sides??? he's gonna help you with it ‼️

price, bless his heart just wants to be involved but he doesn't know how to. awkwardly smiling, nodding his head telling you, you did a great job and there's no flashback (learnt the word one time. doesn't know what it means but it sounds fitting)

them poking fun at the candles you used but buying the exact same ones to use at their own homes because it reminds them of you

soap and gaz love the scent in your home, always trying to recreate it in theirs but it never coming close to yours <33

if you're ever running low on anything, it's refilled the next day

yes they all have keys to your house

because why do you need to use your pretty hands when they're here to help you?

game over if you paint your nails in their favourite colour

soap is so proud, constantly showing your hand off and telling you that it should be a permanent colour

gaz being so smug about it, his favourite colour is the most superior therefore it needs to be permanently coloured on your nails

ghost doing a double take at your nails, his heart melting when he sees them, can't not resist touching them or trying to touch them lmaooo

price telling you outright that it suits you and him telling you subtly that it needs to be an every day colour

all of them fighting for their lives trying to pay for your nail appointment but the other trying to butt in

and when you have a bad day, working yourself to the bone all of them step up and intervene

"c'mon sweetheart, it's been a long day" price is very gentle with you, holding you up by your hips as he looks at you inspecting your fatigued state. it hurts his heart when you work yourself to death for this team

"there we go, bonnie. i made you a cuppa" johnny handing you his famous hot chocolates in your hands, helping you take a few sips as he holds you gently in his arms

"i'll run the bath for you, pretty" gaz kissing your temple before he plucks your towel and a bath bomb, determined to make the prettiest most relaxing bubble bath you've ever seen

"c'mere lovie, enough for today" simon holding you to his chest as he takes you put of your seat and helping you stand up. his thumb gently brushing over your cheek with a soft sigh, his affections practically radiating off from him in waves. he may not be a man of poetic words but his actions tell you what he says anyway

and if you have enemies, congrats they have four more

heaven forbid you ever meet kortac, especially könig. simon's got words to say ‼️

#asks #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #141 x reader #criminal minds au

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justfangirlstuffs · 3 days

Text

So Much More

Adjustment periods can be difficult, job hunting even more so. But an unexpected visitor comes to provide a pleasant distraction. (Takes place after A Saltwater Room.) You x Sea Slug Moon

Wordcount: 2900

cw: slightly suggestive

Sea Slug AU belongs to @scarredlove

“Hello, sea star,” a voice spoke from your open bedroom window, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

You whipped around to see Moon climbing in through your window, his red eyes gleaming bright with delight and mischief. "Moon, you shouldn't be here," you muttered, hurriedly going to your bedroom door and closing it, locking it for good measure so no one came in unannounced. Your aunt said she'd be working late, and your cousin was staying the night elsewhere but... couldn't be too careful.

It had been several days since you'd been reunited with Moon and his siblings, Sun and Eclipse. Once you had believe them to be simple if not strange sea slugs that you had loved and lost years ago. Only to discover that in truth, they were some manner of mythical sea creature. Sea slugs, yet so much more than that. More than you could have ever guessed.

Honestly, you were still getting used to having them back in your life. It had been so long since you've seen them. They were so different, and you were different too. Time had chafed you, made you rough and tender around the edges. It didn't help that you were already going through an immense transition in your life. So suddenly having them back in your life... it was a lot.

"And yet, here I am," Moon giggled mischievously, leaning on the wall near the window.

The moonlight cast his shadow on the wall and reflected on his dazzling robes, the patterns of bio luminescence drawing your gaze with their mesmerizing beauty. His eyes were shining with amusement but he didn't look like he had any bad or malicious intentions.

His voice softened a margin. "Don't be mad... I just wanted to see you.”

The words cause an undeniable, split-second lift to your mood. When was the last time someone said those words to you? It felt like forever... "I'm not mad," you said quickly, wanting to reassure him in some form or fashion. You sat back down at your desk, with the newspaper classified ads spread out before you. "You guys just have a habit of showing up without warning. It can be..." What was a tactful way to put it? "...stressful."

The antennae on his hood twitched and drooped a bit. You didn't know it, but your words did make him feel a bit guilty. After all, he was known for sometimes being very intrusive and showing up unexpectedly, even when he's uninvited or at undesirable times. He took a step forward, leaning forward over your desk but not yet invading your personal space. Though by the look in his eyes it was on his mind.

"Well...we're family, right?" he said, as if that was enough of a justification for his actions. His head tilted to the side, his expression softening as his shoulders drooped a little. "Besides... aren't you happy to see me?"

You thought about that question. Which, yeah, wild that you even had to think about it. Most people would probably find it weird; shouldn't you be able to just.... know how you feel? Yet you had to pause, and reflect, and try and identify your mental state. And then you had to find the words to express it. It was like wading through static.

"I'm not unhappy," you said finally, looking at him sincerely. "And I'm not asking you to leave."

Moon was slightly taken back by your answer, but his eyes glimmered with amusement. "Well, that's a good start." He leaned a bit further on your desk, slowly closing the gap that was between you and him. "But you're not totally pleased by my presence either, are you? You're just tolerating it, is that right?" The corners of his lips curved upwards, as if he was daring you to try to lie.

"It's not that, it's just..." You bit your lip and glanced away from him, looking down at the multitude of jobs you'd either circled or crossed out. Such a simple task, yet for you it had been a monolith chore. "I just don't feel like I'm the greatest company right now."

He let his lips thin out, the smirk was replaced by concern. This wasn't the response he was hoping for. It might not be the worst that he could have heard, but it was not the best answer he could've gotten. His expression softened, his body became less imposing and he sat down on the bed beside your desk, gazing at you whilst taking care not to cross your personal space.

"Are you not feeling alright?" He asked earnestly, you could tell he was genuinely concerned for you and not just asking out of politeness.

Wasn't that a loaded question? But thankfully at least you had an immediate source of stress you could identify and voice.

"I need to find a job." You sighed, pinching bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. "I've been applying to various places but... I keep getting rejected."

It was tiring, and it was stressful, and it was such a soul sucking ordeal. Putting in the effort, waiting to hear back, only to be overlooked or declined. Not exactly a boon towards your self-esteem.

"Why do you need a job?" he asked curiously, head tilted to the side. He was still sitting near you, his legs crossed and hands resting in his lap. It was such an ordinary position but something about it made him seem even more approachable and calm. It was a stark contrast to his usual self that often seemed impish and playful.

"Because... I need to make money. I need to help out. I can't.... I can't be a waste of space." You voice broke over those last three words, like glass shattering against rocks. Tears burned your eyes as your anxiety swelled.

Moon's eyes widened in shock at your sudden breakdown, you looked... fragile and vulnerable, yet your words had an underlying tone of determination to them. You spoke as if you were ashamed and have to pay for simply existing in this world. His expression softened, he immediately reached out and grasped your hand. His skin was soft and cool, the texture far too smooth and alien to be human, yet it felt comforting.

"You're not a waste of space," he said in a quiet voice, his long fingers carefully lacing with yours. "Not to me. To me, you're... so much more than that."

Tears dripped down your face, and even though his words didn't completely calm your fears, they were until to keep you from getting pulled under by the riptide of anxiety. Moon's touch and genuine affection was like a life preserver keeping you afloat on rough waters. You were still getting tossed, but you weren't drowning.

"Thank you," you murmured, giving his hand a firm squeeze.

"Anytime," he answered, continuing to speak in that soft and gentle way. "And also..." He hesitated for a moment, but he looked at you. His gaze was sincere and genuine, like he wanted to say something but afraid of ruining the mood. "You can always come to me when you're feeling like this. I just... don't want you to be alone during these difficult times. Not again."

That managed to bring a small smile to your face, and you sniffled, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. "I'll keep that in mind, if I ever want to pal around with a troublemaker like you."

"Aww, troublemaker, huh?" He chuckled, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across his face as he squeezed your hand a bit. "A compliment from you? What a surprise. I feel honored."

A snort of mirth erupted from you and you had to grab some tissues to clear out your sinuses before you felt a little better. Moon shifted slightly in his seat, trying to get comfortable, though it's evident that all he wants to do is to get closer to you. He gave your hand a small tug, silently urging you to sit on the bed with him. You gave a heavy sigh but decided to let him pull you away from work to plop onto your mattress beside him.

"Wanna know a secret?" he asked, his antennae twitching restlessly.

"Oh, a secret?" you murmured, giving your voice an edge of conspiratorial playfulness. "Now I feel honored."

"It's about you." The glint in his eyes was impish and his smirk indicated that he was up to something. "But don't tell anyone, alright? Keep it between yourself and your old pal Moon."

"My lips are sealed." You drew your hand across your mouth like you were closing a zipper. "So, what's the secret?"

"The secret is..." He shifted his body closer to you - close but not too close- and you caught the scent of sea breeze and something sweet... like watermelons. His gaze sharpened on you, as if he was studying every small detail about your face.

His smile was still etched right across his features and you could practically feel his excitement building up. He took a deep breath as if he was about to tell you something that was forbidden. He whispered the words into your ear.

"You're beautiful." He had finally found a word that fit perfectly for what he wanted to say, and he just had to say it. His grin brightened up into a big smile, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips.

Your heart stuttered in your chest and suddenly heat was overwhelming your face like you'd just stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun. "O-Oh..."

Moon observed the effect his words had on you. Your blush, your fluttering heart beat, the way your breath seemed to come out all too lightly and quickly. He took note of all of them. His smile didn't falter, neither did his gaze. He took a risk, he was now closer to you, you could feel his robes brushing against your skin, gently caging you like the most lovely and velvety cage imaginable. His hand was still gripping yours as he stayed silent, letting the moment linger. He wanted you to experience it, to savor it and to feel it's warmth.

Your heart thumped loudly at the sudden proximity and you eased back just a little bit. Even after all these years, it seemed Moon was still a cuddly little guy... except he wasn't little anymore. And your perceptions of him were vastly different from how they were when you were younger.

"H-How have you been?" you asked. It was an attempt at regaining some control of the situation, yet it was also a question that had been on your mind every since you re-discovered them.

Despite the sudden change of subject Moon didn't seem to mind. He chuckled, his fingers still holding yours, his thumb tenderly brushing over your heated skin.

"I've been alright. Though..." His voice became quieter, and you had to concentrate a bit to hear it. "I've really missed you."

"I missed you too..."

A thousand apologies got stuck in your throat, choking off your next words. You'd had no idea that Moon and his brothers had been lingering so close to home. If you had, you would have come back sooner. Instead, you had stayed away, the bittersweet memories too painful to revisit. Yet another thing to pile onto your list of regrets.

He nodded and a brief flash of concern crossed his expression, as if he could sense the guilt in you. "You don't have to say it, I know." He smiled, a slight pity in it. This moment was no longer filled with light or laughter, it was heavy and full of regret.

"The past years... have definitely been hard on all of us," He finally said, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you. "Especially to you."

You shook your head, already guilty that you'd managed to bring down a pleasant mood. "I'm fine. I've been... managing." That felt like such a lie. You didn't feel like you've been managing at all. "Really, I'm... I'm dealing with it. I'd much rather hear about you."

The fact that you tried to dismiss the conversation with a quick 'I'm fine...' made him feel even more pity for you. He noticed your reluctance to talk about it. You were still dealing with something and you weren't ready yet. You needed more time, and that was something he was aware of.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, his voice softer, gentler than before. He looked at you, and you could see that he took your feelings more seriously.

"Of course," you said quickly, eager for a change of topic. Eager for something to distract you from the heavy weight that seemed to constantly be anchoring you.

He shifted his body again, his long legs now crossed over each other, his robes fanning out across the bed like a gleaming river or waterfall. His eyes scanned every part of your face as if searching for something. Finally, he took a deep breath, then spoke again.

"You know, I thought I'd find you so different. You had been gone for so long, I thought you were going to be..." He broke the silence again. "Different."

A burble of laughter erupted up. Though it was more of an expression of surprise than actual mirth. "You mean I'm not?"

"No... not really." He shifted once again, now leaning slightly closer, his eyebrows curling upwards with curiosity. "I think you're still you. I was expecting to see a complete stranger here. But you're still you. Everything that I remembered is still there. You're still adorable, you're still kind, and you're still so very warm." He smirked, his gaze was now intense as he stared at you closely. "Are you still ticklish, though?"

Your eyes widened and before you could react Moon pounced. You feel back on the bed, squirming as Moon began tickling you. "Moon! Moon! Stop! I can't... Noooooooo!" You screeched between fits of laughter as you kicked and squirmed.

Moon laughed, amused by the sight. He began to tickle you ruthlessly, his fingers quickly exploring every inch of your stomach, sides, and even underneath your arms. His laughter became so intense that he almost couldn't breathe. "I've missed doing this to you so much, little crab," he confessed between giggles. "And I missed the noises you make."

He eased up a bit and you had a moment to catch your breath, wheezing and giggling as you stare up at him. You were entirely sure what he meant. Was he referring to the times when you would take him out of his tank and let him crawl along your arms and neck? That had to be it.

"You are such a gremlin," you muttered, but the comment was said with affection. A lot had changed but... it seemed Moon wasn't all that different either.

"The cutest gremlin you'll ever meet," he replied, his voice dripping with mischief.

Moon leaned down towards your face, his hands still on your stomach as he gave you a big smile. He giggled with you, both of you were red in the face from laughing and from being tickled, and yet the two of you seemed so happy at that moment. He shifted slightly, trying to get a bit closer to you, his hands gently moving to your legs.

He leaned down, his face close to yours. "You know what I miss the most?"

The mood seemed to suddenly shift, and like the lurch of a car turning too quickly, you found yourself a little unsteady as you stared up at him. "Wh-what?" you spluttered out.

"Your scent," he said, his voice was very quiet and calm. He had moved even closer, he was breathing out in hot puffs on your face, and you could see his chest rising and falling. His gaze went down as he looked at you, his hands were still firmly on your legs, but he had made no sudden movements.

“Your taste.” Once again, one of his hands found yours, effortlessly threading them together as though that were their natural state. There was a calmness in the still, the air was heavier, a bit more intense, but not in a bad way. His voice was very soft and sincere, almost as if he was trying to tell you something.

"And your kisses," he finally said. This moment was finally ripe, it gave him the chance to see if you were still open to the idea. He was now even closer to you. His gaze pierced through yours, as if looking for an answer in them.

Staring up at him, you found yourself at a loss for words. He couldn't possibly mean what you were thinking, right? Sure, you used to kiss him. But he'd been just a little slug you could hold in the palm of your hand. But now he was... he was... what?

Before you could say or do anything, a stream of water shot across the room and hit Moon in the face, splashing against his cheek. You jumped as Moon hissed in surprise. The both of you looked around to see his brother, Sun, standing in your room with a squirt bottle in his hand and a far too wide smile on his face. To be continued...

#fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #moon x y/n #moon x reader #sun x y/n #sun x reader #sea slug au #justfangirlwritings #not beta read so apologies for errors/typos

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transformers-synergize · 8 months

Text

Poll results in y'all wanna hear me rant about some funky plane birds, so let goo

Starscream leader of the Decepticon air forces and the Elite Trine, a top ranking Decepticon equal to few, only out ranked by megatron himself. Armed with his null ray which has the ability to nullify any other cybertronian abilities for short periods of time and a super fast self repair system, he is a force to be reckoned with

Starscream from the day of his creation had an interest in the sciences and how the world worked. He was determined, smart, and knew what he wanted from life, and fought through the barriers that society put up trying to keep him in his function as a soldier. Through this, he ends up meeting a kind shuttle named Skyfire, who was going through a similar struggle. Through Starscreams' relentless determination and sly charm, He helped both of them break through Cybertronian society barriers and be able to study the sciences.

Things were going well for Starscream for a while, but It just took one mishap for him to lose everything. He and Skyfire were sent out to scout out a small organic planet to determine if it would be a viable colony world for producing energon. with Skyfire knowledge on organics and Starscream knowledge or energon production they were the perfect team for the job. While flying in the planet's lower atmosphere, Skyfire wanted to take a look at some interesting organics flying low right when a Sudden storm hit separating him from Starscream. Starscream spent countless cycles searching for him but never found him.

After returning to Cybertron, he was accused of murder but managed to get the charges dropped. Still, the title of murderer stuck to him and many others in the Scientific Community saw him now more than ever as just a violent war built. After the incident, he had no real other option but to leave Science and find work Elsewhere, which led him to the Cybertronian military, working the function he was designed for at the start. But as conflict grew across Cybertron, Starscream saw a chance with a new rising military group, the Decepticons, to rise back up in the world.

Starscream doesn't particularly care about megatron ideals or the values the Decepticons are fighting for. He has his own ideas in mind when he takes over the Decepticons.

At one point in Starscream's life, he'd fight the fact he was just a war built seeker, that he could be more than just the function he was built for. but now he uses it as a badge of honor. he is a soldier, the best soldier, the best fighter, the best flyers, and surely the best at war should lead the Decepticon army. he is a being built to kill and conquer, that is his function and that is what he will do.

In Starcreams mind, everyone leaves, so it's not worth getting close to anyone because it's just gonna lead to you getting your spark broken. Starscream both sees himself as better than others and unlovable with his only way of gaining the respect that he craves climbing the ranks till he is in charge and bots have to respect him. But even being a top-ranking Decepticon seems to earn him little the respect and adoration he desired. His equals often disregard him, those he out ranks often respect other high-ranking officers much more than him. And the only bot who out ranks him, leaving him with more dents than any kind of praise.

Now stranded on earth the same planet he lost skyfire on, with a small group of Decepticon, and Soundwave, one the few bots with a similar rank as him. He is put in the leadership position without Megatron's oversight he has desired for so long. The only problem is that he has to share that role with Soundwave, who has a very different idea on how things should be run. Soundwave wants to stay as close to megatrons' ideas and systems as possible until they can regain contact with Cybertron and take Megatron's orders again. While starcreams want to try something new and run the Decepticons his way and not stick to what he sees as megatrons' failures and idiotic rules.

Skywarp is not that clever, but he thinks he is an expert schemer like his superior Starscream. He is a suck up to higher ranking bots while disrespecting those of equal or lower rank, especially messing with smaller bots like minis targeting both the Decepticon minis and autobot minis alike. Skywarp is one to pick fights, but he only picks ones he knows he can win. He wants to rise the ranks and think putting others down and getting close to those higher up will increase his rank, thinking he has been successful with this in the past, not realizing that the main reason for his high-ranking position among the Decepticons is mostly due to his rare teleportation ability and not his skills or smarts. He thinks he's a good planner and just as smart as starscream, he is not, not even close, almost every plan he has come up with has failed and without the guidance of others he often ends up getting himself into stupid situations, with his often Short attention span making things even worse. Skywarp is very skilled in battle as long as he is following someone else's orders. He is all in for the Decepticons' cause, even if he doesn't fully know what it is. He often talks about how he can't wait for their inevitable victory and glory to follow.

Thundercracker is younger than the other two created during the war. All he's ever known is the Decepticon and the Decepticon army. He was able to rise up the ranks fast due to his powerful sonic boom ability and natural skill in combat. He tries to live up to the prefect idea of what a Decepticon should be but often fails. He secretly has his doubts about the Decepticons, but what other choice does he have. the Decepticon may be bad, but the Autobots are evil, So to him he's working for the lesser of two evils. He has interest outside of fighting or things that would make him a good seeker warrior and is actually quite artistic, but he keeps that to himself, not wanting to look weak. He really likes earth and all the little cool things it has but wouldn't admit it to anyone. hiding cool lil earth things he collects in his quarters, and connecting to human broadcasts to watch earth movies or listen to earth music.

He looks down on non flyers both in a literal sense and a figurative sense. He was taught from his first day of being online that since he was a flying bot and especially a seeker, that makes him better than other bots. especially standard grounders, and even if he can't fully believe in the Decepticons' cause, maybe he can believe in that. Some of the stuff they taught him has to be true, right? Right???

These three are all part of a tactical trine called the Elite Trine, less built on the fact they work well together or even like each other that much, but the fact all 3 have powerful abilities that in tandem makes them a terrifying force in combat. Since They are the elite trine, the face of the Decepticon air force, in front of others they try to keep up an air of professionalism. but when not under the public eye you can often find the three of them bickering like human children over the pettiest little things. Starscream tends to keep his distance from the other two, only working with them when he needs to, while it’s not uncommon to find Skywarp and Thundercracker spending time together outside of work. either just hanging out or skywarp dragging thundercracker into one of his stupid ideas.

no background version of art bellow

#starscream #thundercracker #skywarp #transformers #transformers synergize #tfs #art post #text post #redesign #Skywarp is a mini hater thundercracker is a grounder hater starscream is just a hater #I have arcs in mind for starscream and thundercracker #skywarp just gets to stay chaotic freak #maccadam

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earthry · 8 months

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Dragon Papas (Dragon/Royalty AU Headcanons)

Followup from this post about you being a royal locked in a tower and the Papas being dragons.

tw violence, possessiveness, tiny spicy for secondo as always, fluff, a sprinkle of hurt/comfort, the murder of suitors & knights

Primo

His tower lies in the heart of an overgrown garden. It’s almost a maze, with how high the hedge walls have grown to protect their treasure. He has his ghouls prowling the halls for unsuspecting victims.

He’s gentle with you, treating you like a delicate flower in his garden. And honestly compared to him, you’re pretty frail.

He rarely needs to actually kill any suitors or knights— they often fall victim first to either the whims of the maze or the mercy of his ghouls.

Decorates you in flowers, weaving wreathes and garlands, tucking them into your hair as he helps you brush it at the start of each day.

Although Primo is the one with an affinity towards the wildlife in the area, you begin to notice as your stay continues that the animals love to perch nearby to watch you— the brave ones will come forward and bask in your light as you hold you hand out and pet soft fur. The daisies seem to bend towards you when you walk down the pathway, the trees hang their branches low so that they may gently brush against you, providing you shade and shelter.

Primo is quite pleased with it, and convinced that you were practically made just for him. He’ll never let anyone take you away from him, never let anyone even lay hands on his little rose.

Secondo

His tower is reminiscent of a cathedral, grand with stained glass windows and high ceilings. There’s a library nook just for you, with all the books you’d ever want.

If there’s something that you don’t have but desire, Secondo has no problem sending his ghouls out to obtain them for you. Anything for his most beloved.

He used to do this himself, flying out for short periods of time seemed safe enough; until one incident where he nearly lost you to an overconfident knight. Since then, he rarely leaves. He’s very reluctant to leave you alone and unprotected— you’re much safer in his arms.

The incident also reminded him how delicate and easily injured humans are. He'd always known but with you, he'd somehow thought you were immune to that because you were his. After bringing you home in the state you were however, don't be surprised if he becomes the most gentle he can be with you.

Even in his human form Secondo is much larger than you, encompassing you as you sit in his lap to read. He loves having you in his lap or laying on top of him, relishing how small you are compared to him. You’re his little trinket, his treasure.

Ruthless. Doesn’t take kindly to trespassers and even less so to those who try to drag you away against your will. You’ve seen your fair share of bloodshed by being at his side, watching him tear knights to shreds to protect you, to keep you safe.

Decorates you with bites and loving bruises (with your enthusiastic consent of course). Possessive claiming marks against the nape of your neck. When it starts to disappear, he always gets a little antsy and unsettled until he can properly mark you as his again.

If you’re an untouched royal, he practically goes feral at the idea of being the first and only to ever touch you, to ever show you the pleasures of intimacy.

Terzo

His tower is hidden in the high mountains, covered in snow and steep and treacherous paths for any who seek to brave it. It's so high up that the top of the tower is often hidden in the clouds, earning the nickname 'the tower in the sky' from locals.

He’s very clever and sets many traps that usually picks off most of the suitors. The ones that happen to make it all the way usually don’t live long enough to tell the tale before Terzo’s ghouls are upon them.

Terzo always gets a little sulky if any of his traps fail because Omega loves to tease him.

Contrary to his brothers, the sight and smell of blood nauseates him. He's a sensitive dragon! Aside from setting the traps, his ghouls are the ones to clean them up and get rid of the carnage.

He abandoned his entire hoard for you by the way. The hoard he’s been collecting and protecting for centuries pale in comparison to the love and connection he feels for you. You are his treasure and he treats you as such. Gentle and loving and awed.

Sometimes you ask him if he wants to fly all the way back and retrieve them, but he always tells you no— it would leave you too vulnerable and open to any knights or suitors who might think they’ll get luck. He’s not willing to risk you, not even in the slightest. He tells you that he has a new hoard now, starting with the shiniest and prettiest gem in the world (you).

Decorates you with gold, loves to drape you in jewelry and have you splayed out for him as he kisses each ring on your hand. If you have long enough hair, will spend hours combing it out and braiding in gold beads and gems.

If you’re ever missing home, he’ll cook your favorite cuisines from your childhood and hold you when you’re sad. He’s always very thoughtful and your happiness is his priority.

Copia

His tower is hidden in the caves below, tucked in the safety of the caverns and crevices of the earth. Though many don’t dare to venture underground, those who do never seem to make it back out.

It’s pretty cold underground so he’s always sure to keep the fireplace going. Wraps you up in blankets and sweaters and cuddles you to death to keep you toasty and warm.

Kind of a silly dragon, doesn’t quite know how to judge his size and often forgets the difference between his dragon form and human form. He’s gotten stuck in a few places that you’ve had to help him out of (after taking 10 minutes to finish laughing while he pouts and sulks cutely— it’s okay you make it up to him with plenty of apology kisses and he’s easily pacified).

There’s a large population of rats underground that he can communicate with using his mind. He can also take possession and use them as his eyes and ears, watching through their perspective. He takes very good care of them! There’s hundreds of them but they all have names and Copia remembers each one.

He uses his rats to keep you safe, having them patrol the area and reporting back if they sense or see someone.

Does not understand human customs and forgets half the time what humans are like. Forgets to wear clothes when he’s in his human form— not that you mind though.

Decorates you in things he's made. This varies as he's always picking up new hobbies and skills. Whether it be knitting or embroidery, jewelry or leather making, he always loves to shower you in gifts. It's a very sweet and lovely gesture and you always let him know.

You don’t know what happens to the knights or suitors that come your way seeking to ‘whisk you away’ and Copia never talks much about it. He just says that the rats or his ghouls are taking care of it.

You do secretly catch him a few times drenched in blood and gore and trying to wash it off in time before you see. You never tell him because you don’t want the poor guy to have an anxiety attack— he’s very particular about keeping you away from anything bad or scary. He just wants to protect you from all things, even from himself.

#the band ghost #copia #secondo #terzo #ghost band #ghost bc #ghoul #papa emeritus iv #primo #cardinal copia #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus i x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #cardinal copia x reader #headcanons

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seekingidlewild · 2 years

Text

So I’ve been seeing a lot of fun takes about Ayan’s mom being his wingman, and I love them. I love her, and I love that the fandom loves her. But watching those scenes again from her perspective puts a completely different spin on her interest in Ayan’s love life. Because we’ve known for a while that she’s worried about Ayan, but it’s only been in the last two episodes that we’ve gotten a more comprehensive idea of what she’s dealing with as a parent.

This episode finally made it clear just how big a role Uncle Dika played in Ayan’s life. Despite the fact that Ayan’s dad has been out of the picture since Ayan was very young, Ayan still grew up in what was essentially a two-parent household because that household included Dika. So Dika wasn’t just an uncle to Ayan. He was his father figure. He didn’t just spend time with Ayan periodically. He was part of his daily life. And Ayan’s mom wasn’t really a single parent. She had help raising him.

So when Dika died, Ayan lost both an uncle and a father, and Ayan’s mom lost both a brother and a co-parent. Ayan has been living more or less alone due to his mom’s work commitments, and she’s been trying to parent him through telephone calls and video chats. In addition to the stress that would naturally arise from that situation, Ayan’s mom has been living with the knowledge that her brother died of suicide after a long battle with mental illness, and that her son is now battling a similar mental illness. On top of that, her son has also been fighting a lonely battle to discover why his uncle died, uprooting himself from his school and any former social connections in the process. As far as she knows, he is spending every day in the same environment that drove her brother to suicide, with no friends or sympathetic teachers to act as a support system.

It’s no wonder that she’s scared of losing him, too.

And then she comes home from work one day and finds Ayan asleep in bed with an unknown schoolmate sleeping beside him, and they’re holding hands. And then they come down for dinner and it’s so obvious that there’s a strong sense of familiarity and trust between them. And then over dinner, Ayan keeps looking at his schoolmate with so much love in his eyes and generally acting so happy.

Can you imagine her relief? Of course she asked some pointed questions. Of course she teased them and enjoyed Akk’s flustered reaction. Of course she wanted to drive Akk home so she could get to know him a little better and share a few of her fears with him. I bet Akk could have her eating out of the palm of his hand in no time. Not because he’s handsome and she thinks he and Ayan would make a cute couple, but because he makes her son palpably, radiantly happy, and she probably hasn’t seen that much happiness in Ayan’s eyes since Dika’s passing. In Akk, she probably sees an anchor that can keep Ayan grounded in the present instead of lost in the past. Meeting him probably means a lot more to her than Akk can grasp.

#the eclipse #the eclipse series #the eclipse meta #akkayan #akkaye #thai drama #bl drama

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samptlay · 2 months

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To My Sweetheart Who Carries A Wounded Heart ~ Info.

Blade & Reader's Relationship

Series Masterlist, Chapter 1 🤍, Chapter 2 🖤, Chapter 3 🤍, Chapter 4🖤, Chapter 5🤍, Chapter 6🖤, Chapter 7🤍

Being childhood best friends, they knew everything about each other and been there for all of the other's milestones.

Reader describes Blade as his soulmate and is the only person throughout the whole series who calls him "Ren."

They met in kindergarten or preschool (I forgot what I wrote for that) and the reader kept on bothering him until he acknowledged her and proved to care for her, and since then has been inseparable.

It goes deeper into detail in Chapter 2:

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52453421/chapters/132797800

Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/samptlay/737693316678828032/to-my-sweetheart-who-carries-a-wounded-heart-ch

Before meeting Levi, (the reader's current husband) reader would call Blade at least 4 times a week and they would go out together 2-to 3 times a week. Lots of people thought of them as a couple, but both the reader and Blade would shut down the idea.

If the two of them were honest, the attraction and romantic tension were there. There was one night that the two had made out under the influence back in high school as seniors, but the two of them both agreed to just not speak of it. (Blade thinks about it every few months.)

However, none of them had ever made a move. And this is because of the phase he went through during high school. During the beginning of their sophomore year, Blade had started to hang out with guys who thought they knew better than everyone else. Guys who thought girls were just objects made for their satisfaction. Though it didn't change the way Blade acted around the reader, he was arrogant and an overall bastard to everyone else.

A bastard with a handsome face that had ladies all over him. He started to smoke and drink (not enough for him to be an alcoholic or anything, this is what also led to the make-out sesh with the reader one night) He had dozens of girlfriends throughout those years and cheated on them all. Even when he found someone he was actually interested in, he couldn't help but give in to the temptation of other females. So in summary, he was a total player who couldn't commit himself to someone for anything.

This behavior sadly faded into his early years of adulthood. He had different girls running in and out of his apartment every few weeks.

*Switching to 2nd POV, sorry.

You always scolded him about it, worried he would catch something or end up knocking a girl up though he always insisted he played it safe. He admired you even more during those times, because you never seemed to judge him for it. However, you were off limits, out of reach.

This also happened to be around the time you and Levi got married. Blade knew he couldn't commit himself to you, so he didn't have anything to say when someone else swept you off your feet. That doesn't mean he didn't feel anything at all. He took at all the frustration of not being there for you on other women, and got into a bad drinking habit.

Not exactly an alcoholic, but still. You let Blade know you would avoid being alone with him for a long while until you completely have your partners trust to come see him alone. Though Blade understood, it still made his heart ache.

It wasn't until he lost his job in a very risky project he wasn't even supposed to be working on in his company, that he sobered up. (Something like in the game.) During this period, he only had enough savings to last him 4-5 months but it would run out quickly. You had tried to offer him help but Levi wouldn't let you, saying you were being "too nice" and on your way to "giving Blade the wrong idea.".

When I eventually got to one month of unemployment, he was at the gym trying to gather his thoughts while in his own little bubble until a man named "Elio" approached him. Apparently Blade had been watched for about a year according to him and had no idea. Elio said that he knew Blade was running out of cash and offered him a job with a salary that would have people bending backs for. The requirements of the job were tight and required his whole life to fall into Elio's hands, but Blade was desperate and broke.

He didn't have time to entertain women or get wasted. The work was definitely sketchy, and he knew all the things he weren't all legal. He's been under-cover, stolen, fought, involved in fraud and more. All of this seemed to wake him up to true adult life and look back at his past self in absolutely disgust. Of course, you were stoked and over the moon about his new found maturity and even seemed to be around more, just because you felt a lot more comfortable & secure. with this Blade.

Yet, you had no idea what caused the change and always pressed him about it, a little concerned about his choice of field since you swore that Golden Watch he had on was more than both you & his savings combined. Each & every time, he gently shut you down and avoided the topic, deciding that this would be the one wall you'd never be able to break with him. After two years, you let it go and to be honest it caused a small strain in between the two of you since you though he didn't trust you anymore, which wasn't true. He was just silenced.

But you two were still each other's favorite person. Even if you were married, Blade was your soulmate. You've texted him at least 3 times a week throughout your whole life and make sure he never feels forgotten, vice-verse.

But as of the last three years, you seemed to be getting worn down more and more, day-by-day. Each month, the amount of times you'd call him crying because of arguing with your husband increase and he swears that he would have kidnapped you himself up and out of that place long ago if you'd let him.

End of 2nd POV.

In conclusion, Blade & Reader are strictly platonic even though there is little romantic tension, it's more of a click when it comes to the two. They never judge each other for anything and if one party calls, the others is zooming over there in an instant, no matter who there partners are.

Note this, Blade has always wished him and Reader had gone out in their early highschoolers years. Then perhaps his whole life would be turned around, as well as having a ring on his own finger.

And if you weren't married as of now, he would have proposed the moment he left his past self behind. But that's not the case. So for now, he'll admire you from where he currently is.

But Reader knows he loves her. And Blade knows reader loves him too.

Taglist: @msun1c0rn @anime1fan2 @skyl8ver, @umi-adxhira, @lovingnahida @immahuman @faellell @uhfhfhfhf @ssecylia @strrawb3rrysh0rtcak3 @markexplanation @meowmeowraven @xdrin

#hsr x reader #blade x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #fem reader #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fanfic #relationship #childhood friends

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roosteraloha · 5 months

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delightful ❄️

Bradley Bradshaw × Reader

wc - 1.9k

warnings - FLUFF, talks of seasonal depression & spending the holiday season alone.

disclaimer - ANY BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! I also DO NOT give permission for any of my works to be copied, shared, compiled, translated or posted onto other sites!!

a/n - this fic is part of the wonderful @sailor-aviator’s Christmas Challenge!! this is my first writing challenge & my first seasonal fic! hope y’all enjoy this one 🤍 title is taken from ‘let it snow’ ❄️

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Christmas. The holiday season that everyone around you seemed to love. You however struggled this time of year, being so far away from what little family you had left was never easy on a regular day, holidays just amplified that longing - something Bradley could relate to all too well.

You couldn’t lie, you loved how the twinkling Christmas lights helped to cheer in the cold, dark nights. But you dreaded being alone, when everyone around you couldn’t stop raving about going home for the holidays and growing more and more excited, while your seasonal depression worsened.

At the first mention of tnr holiday season, Bradley was expecting you to be full of seasonal cheer, but in a way was gladly surprised that you too had lacked the stereotypical family atmosphere during the holidays. He lost both his parents and have a very fractured relationship with Maverick, his only real family, which led to many years he spent the entire holiday season alone. You had very little family left, those who you did have, an estranged aunt and uncle you barely knew, lived halfway across the world. The relationship between you was basically nonexistent, and there was no way ok your meagre salary, that you could afford to fly out to spend the holidays with them.

When you had met Bradley, you were initially cautious of his attitude towards the holiday period. There was no way you could be in a friendship or a relationship with someone who lives and breathes the season. You wouldn’t be able to stand it. You heart lifted when it was revealed that Bradley had the same attitude as you, he wasn’t going to try and change you and your feelings. Instead, he’d respect them and let you celebrate however much or little you wanted.

When December arrived, you immediately became much more gloomy and irritated. You didn’t need to look at the calendar to know the reasoning behind your sudden distaste for everything and everyone around you. The nights grew longer and darker, and you felt less and less like yourself. Bradley had severely underestimated how much you disliked the holidays, assuming you were just being over dramatic like you were known to be on subjects you felt strongly about. He swore that his heart physically hurt knowing how much you hated the holidays, the switch from your usual chipper routine, to barely being able to drag yourself out of bed for work.

You sighed heavily, collapsing onto the sofa, ignoring the snort from Bradley at your dramatics. “What now?” He chuckled, you got very dramatic around stressful situations, and the holiday season was the highlight. Truly he did care about how you were doing, but he only found amusement in these situations due to the one time you broke down crying laughing at how badly you’d overreacted over a tiny trivial thing, he knew you’d never take offence to his laughter.

“I completely forgot that everybody decides to do their Christmas shopping so incredibly last minute!! Like, why are you shopping for presents the week before the holidays?!” You huffed dramatically, unable to withhold your laughter at Bradley’s expression, trying desperately to hold a straight face while you acted out your day. “I don’t know, baby. But I’m thankful for them providing me with this entertainment.” You gasped in faux outrage at his words, grabbing a pillow from beside you and throwing it in his direction without looking, yelling in victory when you heard him yell at the unanticipated contact.

Bradley was cautious about voicing his next statement, already anticipating you to blow up at him, but being polite like his mother raised him to be, “Y’know, you shouldn’t be cooped up in your tiny apartment for Christmas.” He held the cushion in front of him, a pathetic attempt at a shield from your incoming wrath. Eyes widening at your sudden silence, he was quick to add, “Bub…I just meant, I also have to spend the holidays alone, in this big empty house.” He’s by your side now, hands running placatingly on your arms. “What if we spend it together? We can pick out a tree from that lot that Bob can’t stop raving about, you can teach me to bake those cookies we talked about, maybe just make it like any other day, if that’s what you really want?”

Your tense expression melted, tears seeking up in your eyes, not entirely certain whether it was due to the season, or your loving, highly attentive to detail boyfriend’s reaction and creation of alternatives for you, other than your entirely more depressing current tradition of spending the day in your bed, pillow over your head and duvet pulled over you.

Bradley froze at your sudden emotional breakdown. Presuming he had spoken out of turn and instead of pissing you off, had broken your heart, something he swore to himself and his parents that he would never do to you. Internally panicking momentarily, relaxing when you merely snuggled closer to him, curling up on his lap, your head buried in his neck.

The house was cold. That was the first thing you noticed when you got to Bradley’s late after your shift on Christmas Eve. You lived in San Diego. It did not get this cold, ever. Frowning, you trudge through the entryway, kicking off your shoes, then wincing as your socked feet meet the cold tiled floor. You called out for Bradley, he had texted you before you left work, asking you to come over, you assumed for a quick present swap. He had been ignoring your texts and calls since you gave him confirmation that you would be there. He must’ve turned the air conditioning down as low as it could go, which in summer would have been luxurious, but now?

Now, the drizzle and gloom outside was continued indoors, which kept you frowning as you move through the house looking for Bradley.

Hearing soft humming of Christmas songs from the kitchen, you scurry through the house, keeping your feet off the cold floor as best you could. You’d have to get Bradley to fix the AC. “Woah! Stop there! Close your eyes, this is a surprise, sweetheart!” You groaned, reluctantly closing your eyes, feeling a warm presence move in front of you, a soft kiss being pressed to the top of your head as a soft silk is tied delicately over your eyes.

“Bradley…” you whine softly, trusting him, but clueless as to where this was going. He chuckled, his breath fanning gently onto your cheek, a welcome warmth from the chill in the air. Rubbing his hand up and down your arms, appreciative that you were still in your thin work uniform, trying to warm you back up as best he could, “I’m gonna lead you upstairs, then I’m changing you into something warmer, okay?” You whined at the sheer unknown, but gave into the significant trust you had in your boyfriend.

He carefully pulled off your uniform, his warm hands welcome against your cold skin, goosebumps erupting down your arms. A soft, fleecy, warm shirt was pulled up your arms, and Bradley buttoned it up with immense care and precision. Next were the fleecy pants, which you felt were too long for you, and giggled as Bradley pulled on a fresh pair of fuzzy socks. You squealed as Bradley scooped you up bridal style, peppering your face with soft kisses, chuckling at your soft laughter.

Downstairs, he places you gently onto the couch, greeted now by a warmth the room lacked when you arrived. Warm breath fans gently across your cheek as Bradley gently unties the blindfold, squinting as your eyes adjust to the light. The room is bathed in a soft warm light, the scraggly tree you both had picked out and decorated the week before was twinkling softly, but wasn’t what made your eyes well with tears. The fireplace that usually stayed empty due to the warm California weather, was crackling with fresh logs, the fire casting a warm and cosy glow over the entire room.

There was also an extra stocking hanging from the mantle. Where usually there were just three - Goose, Carole and Bradley - there was one with your name lovingly hand stitched, matching the theme of the original trio. Swallowing thickly you glance at Bradley who shrugged nonchalantly, "I didn't have anyone else to spend Christmas with. Hope you don't mind if I spend it with you. Share old traditions…Maybe make some of our own…”

Throwing yourself at him, you hug Bradley tightly. It had been mentioned only in passing that growing up you never had your own stocking like most children, and your only happy holiday memory was spending quality time snuggled together with your family in front of the fireplace.

Bradley ran a soothing hand across your cheek, wiping away the tears you were unaware had started to fall. You had never had someone pay such attention to minute details you shared, not expecting them to remember them months later.

But Bradley was not someone from your past.

He is your future.

Several classic Christmas movies later, you were snuggled closely against Bradley’s side, under one of the seasonal blankets he ‘allowed’ you to keep at his place, It’s a Wonderful Life playing in the background. Your half drunk mugs of hot chocolate sat on the coffee table alongside platters of sweet treats Bradley had bought just for the two of you to share, alongside the decorated sugar cookies that the pair of you had made from an old recipe of Carole’s.

Humming contentedly, you crane your neck to glance up at the face of your loving boyfriend, feeling your eyes on him, he turns, kissing you lovingly, pulling you closer to him. “Happy?” You nod against his shoulder, “This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years, Bradley.” He smiles softly at your words, “You know, if you wanted…” He shrugged, trailing off, frowning, you shift and straddle his lap to get a better look at him. “What? If I wanted to what?” Bradley shook his head, a bashful expression on face, narrowing your eyes, you grabbed his chin gently, forcing him to look at you again.

“I wanna spend every Christmas like this with you.”

“Every Christmas?”

He nods.

“Move in with me.”

“Yes.”

“Why? Because I miss you when you’re not- Wait, yes?! You’ll move in?!” His expression frozen, not believing his ears.

Nodding and kissing him once, his eyes light up, grin taking over his face, laughing joyfully, tugging you close to his chest, covering your face in kiss after kiss after kiss. You join him in laughter at his reaction, tugging him down to lay on top of you, being lovingly overwhelmed by everything Bradley.

If this is how every Christmas would end up, snuggled up in front of a fireplace with the love of your life?

If this is what your future looks like, then you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with Bradley.

#allina writes #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #tgm fanfiction #top gun maverick fic

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dearest-painter · 1 year

Text

Yandere Jimmy and Gary with a Male!Teen parent!greaser!Reader

Summary:Jimmy and Gary fall in love with the same boy aka Y/N L/N the teenage parent greaser but they aren’t willing to share so easy (Headcanons and a one shots)

TW/CW:Yandere behavior,Gary being a hypocrite,unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship,mentions of fights,Reader’s baby mama is unknown but it’s mentioned that their in great terms,Reader’s daughter is named Tallulah and if your asking where I got it from it’s from QMSP bc I’ve seen edits and honestly love the name!,Johnny and Reader’s relationship is on the fence with platonic and romantic behavior but never specified what it is(Based off of my friends treating me as their kid and pretending to be a couple),Gary himself,Gary’s sadistic behavior,Gary wanting to own you,VERY OCC CHARACTERS BC JOHNNY IN THE GAME CARES MOSTLY FOR LOLA BUT IN THIS HES VERY POSSESSIVE OF READER!,if I need to add more please do tell me

A/N:Might make this a series

Jimmy hopkins

-now at first he thought you were an asshole because everyone is at that school but you were actually pretty nice!

-He met you when your daughter Tallulah got lost in the circus because she followed a butterfly,he saw you panicking and looking everywhere for her very worried

- “TALLULAH BABY!” “DADDY!” Jimmy watched as Tallulah ran towards you crying as you picked her up and hug her very tight. He knows you from school,you hang with the greasers and look the part to but if he was honest you look pretty handsome like that especially when you cry. “t-thank you…Jimmy was it? Thank you for finding my baby..” “No problem man but how did you lose your daughter?” “Because I saw a butterfly and walked away from daddy” “Yeah I noticed not to long after because you were to quite but here Jim,ya helped a lot” You pulled out a 30 and gave it to him as a way to show you care. “Thanks…” “See ya soon and or later Jim!” “Bye bye nice man!” Tallulah waved goodbye and smiled as you two went home maybe

-You two started hanging out more often to the point Tallulah calls him Uncle Jimmy! He truly does love the way your nice. He notices your never in your dorm,when he ask he gets “Well…gotta have my girl with me at all times,why ya think I get to leave early? They let me check on my baby!” That’s when he learnt the teachers babysit her on their off periods expect Edna…last time Tallulah literally tried to carve out her skin

-He hates how Johnny or the others are so close to you and how Tallulah calls Johnny ‘Dada’ turns out Johnny’s been your childhood best friend and he is your support but also babysitter. Johnny has been closer to you causing him to be ‘Dada’

-He is very willing to murder and attack people. He does do ‘warnings’ but if they keep trying to get with you he isn’t afraid to show that your his man. Johnny he hasn’t done yet because your almost ALWAYS with him,if your asking why he wants to attack Johnny is because no one is sure if you two are dating with the way y’all act. Examples When Johnny thinks no one is paying attention he kisses your cheek,y’all hold hands,sometimes you two use pet names,Johnny is OVERPROTECTIVE and POSSESSIVE of you like he gets upset when someone is flirting with you!,You often lean on his as you take a nap,He’s always at your house,Tallulah calling you ‘Daddy’ and him ‘dada’ as you two skip school for her school and those are just a FEW!

-He is possessive,not easily jealous,but very very overprotective of you.

Gary smith

-THIS MOTHER FUCKER! Everyone hates him and he hates everyone we know that but when he felt some feelings he didn’t know towards you he HATED you more!

-Totally makes fun of you for being a single teen parent,knocking a girl up and she didn’t stay with you even though countless times you’ve told everyone it was a drunk thing and that you two are actually close,your style,the way you talk,hell one time he made fun of Tallulah’s R’s and you went ham on him. No one has seen you this angry and they don’t want to after you literally made him go to the hospital.

-After that he wanted you,to own you,to put you in your fucking place! How dare you humiliate him!? He’ll show you that he’s better!

-Notices and picks at every little thing when someone tries to date or flirt with you because your his! You should already know this!

-Tallulah doesn’t like him because he scares her. He hates her because she bit him to the point he bled but he knows you love her so he’ll put up with her

-No warnings just attacks,no one will think it’s out of pocket for Gary well not a lot but sorta. He just verbally attacks Johnny because he know if he tried anything physically you’d beat him shitless once again

When they confront each other

Jimmy isn’t stupid actually he’s pretty damn smart so when he notices Gary acting the way he does with anyone else he knows he’s not alone with the obsession. “Jimmy buddy! Since we’re such good friends I’m just gonna give you this one little warning….STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM Y/N!” Jimmy got closer to Gary wanting to fight him but he’s only given a few warnings. “And what if I don’t?” Gary grabbed Jimmy’s collar trying not to punch his past errand boy. As soon as Jimmy said that a fight ensued. “BOYS CUT IT OUT!” “GOD DAMN IT JIMMY” the teachers pulled off Gary while Jimmy as being held by you. Gary hated how he was so close to you! They both agreed that they’ll fight for your love.

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

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The Fox Hunt (Yandere Mafia!Cyno, Tighnari, and Alhaitham/Reader)

A very brief summary of chapter 2 for those who had to skip due to CWs: You had been bottling your grief. You hired Alhaitham as an underboss and he tagged along when you negotiated with Diluc. (Thanks to his presence, you avoided getting kidnapped by the Visconti). When you visited the church, Rosaria offered to help you track Tighnari down and Cyno shared his story about losing his younger brother later on. At night, you decided to visit your old underboss's grave. An old friend, Dainsleif, found you in the cemetery, and helped you finally cry your eyes out for all the lives you lost that day.

CW: yandere & religious themes, mafia syndicates (therefore guns, violence, etc). Possible major character death. THIS IS AN INTERACTIVE FIC: YOUR CHOICES MATTER.

"O Capo! My Capo!" - Chapter 3

Previous chapter

—----

[4 years ago:]

"You seem to be stealing fleeting glances earwards the whole time I've been leafing pages."

"Ah, so you've noticed." You spoke sheepishly. "My apologies, Professor, but your ears are…"

Tighnari's ears boastfully straightened as he shrugged with a tiny smile.

"They do not feel as nice as you're imagining. They honestly just feel like any regular cat's or dog's."

"Your behavior says otherwise." You said. "But it's deserved. You groom it every other hour, don't you?"

"Hah?"

On a late 1910s night, renowned writer Professor Tighnari prepared his next discussion in the Innamorati Familia’s mansion.

Why inside such a dangerous place? Well, what is Teyvat without corruption? The Syndicates remained in control for most of Teyvat, and no military forces can quell their power. It reached a period where people cannot envision life without these organizations as detrimental to society. No man can exhaust the flames that burn brightly amongst the Fatui mafiosos, and should they try, they'll only find smoke in their wounded chest.

Professor Tighnari joined the Innamorati Familia when several academics from his university inexplicably vanished. The fox believes they'll target him next based on their trend of research topics. He initially gave his services in exchange for the security of his research, but unanticipatedly discovered that everyone in the Familia has values, culture– precious lives of their own. They were kind people who simply had a penchant for violence. As strange of a revelation as it may sound, they lived their lives hurting as little as they could with their religious restrictions upheld by their capo.

Not long after that, the hitherto snarky professor had become close friends with the aforementioned boss.

"Don't think I don't notice that every time I'm about to enter the room, you brush your fur like you're five minutes late to a party."

"I-I just wanted to look presentable, that's all. Do you think I'd show up to work with bed hair? Who am I? Dimitri?"

Aware of his sharp tongue but lacking the means to keep it in check, Tighnari accidentally insulted your underboss. The hairs on his body stood and he was ready to make a fool of himself by offering an apology, but your usually unreadable resting face looked warm.

"Mhm. Sure. I'll choose to believe that." Without hiding your curiosity, you turned back to his ears. His ears were not touched, despite your hands being close to his head.

"A-as you should." Fortunately, Tighnari is good at masking his emotions. If cowardice overcame him, he would encounter a blade's glimmer rather than your gaze. Tighnari digressed by returning to his books while maintaining the illusion that his thoughts were clear.

"Alright then. Platonically, can I pet you?"

"... Excuse me?"

"You're one of those Vulpes who always wondered why close friends would think touching your ears would make you angry right?" You told him in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

Tighnari is a smart man, yet he is unable to understand how your mind may go in circles and still arrive at a logical conclusion. He did ask, but it didn't make sense. You sincerely advised him to give up most possessions and gain a new perspective from the experience when he sought guidance on how your deduction functions. There is no way in hell that he would act in that manner.

You continued. "I'm just skipping that whole step. So, are we intimate enough for me to run my fingers through your hair?"

Tighnari snorted. "Phrasing, Capo."

"So, am I a close enough friend to touch you in that special area?"

"You'll never get me flustered– I might just bite you instead if you keep testing me."

"What a major shame."

Your gaze lowered to the pages he was writing. Tighnari is a well-known botanist at the University of Teyvat, a public university for bright students with limited financial resources. His intricate writing style regarding the fundamentals of bryophytes speaks volumes. You doubt that students can understand what he jotted down, but then again, Tighnari's an effective communicator.

In all honesty, you hated those books, not because of their contents, but because of the memories laced within them.

These were the type of pages you sift through in hopes that you will be the one to decipher a cure. Dottore used to help you sort through whatever books were more easily digestible. Nowadays staring at something related to moss feels akin to reading about an end of a long relationship. It was fun and exciting, but ultimately the compatibility led nowhere. As much as you want to tell him that he should take his research elsewhere, he'd probably reply with a sassy "Or what? Are you going cage me?" reply. Simply not worth the effort or time.

He cleared his throat, his cheeks dusted in a pinkish hue. "Whatever. You can pet me if y–"

"Mosses huh? Why this area of study?" Those words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Tighnari tucked his tail underneath his chair, his eyes unblinking.

" … I have a theory."

You nodded, recognizing the shift in his tone. "Go on."

"The Goddess of Flowers often described in their books that Sumeru's mosses have an intricate healing property in them that can only be harnessed by those who are as knowledgeable as the Scarlet King."

"I never thought you were a devotee."

"I'm not," Tighnari answered. "I only believe in Gnosticism when it benefits me."

Spoken like a true University of Teyvat graduate.

"But phytotherapy is a rather complex and time-consuming field– why focus on this?"

"And why does a Capo like you know that?" Tighnari asked, and you digressed immediately to avoid him probing on things he need not know.

"–Our familia is doing fine, Professor. Hmm... Is there someone in particular that you're praying for good health–"

"You have Eleazar, don't you, Capo?"

You knew it. He saw the recollection in your gaze when you glanced at his books. You weren't surprised that he figured it out quickly. You were just waiting for him to confess that he knew your condition. However, you just didn't expect him to ask at that very moment.

This time, you patted his head without asking, tracing your fingers around his fluffy ears. You grinned. Your smile was just a centimeter off and your shoulders were square; neither of those rigid signs sent him a positive response. The way you held his ears was restrictive, far from the quote-unquote "platonic" gesture you offered earlier. Your soft chortles sent chills down his spine and your glare froze his nerves akin to Snezhnayan rivers.

"Hoping to sell that information, Vulpes?"

"Of course not!" Tighnari was shocked to hear himself raise his voice. "I'm not stupid."

You hummed and pulled your hand away. Tighnari may have acted tough, but you knew he was shaken by that exchange.

Oh well, it's not like you were being serious.

You just did that so you can hold his ears. (By the way, he lied. They're even fluffier than most animals.)

Unbeknownst to you, Tighnari found your touch enthralling. He shook by an entirely different reason compared to your assumption.

Talking to you was addictive. Tighnari could take his studies elsewhere, but what's the point if you're not there?

He chuckled.

Save for the low-volume classic jazz the fox played in the background, you both indulged in the comfortable silence of each other's presence. An atmosphere as cozy as this makes it tempting to brush your cheek against his shoulder and flutter your eyes shut– but the dawn hasn't crept in and you will not be deterred from your sleep schedule. Tighnari's pleasant pen strokes came to a halt, releasing you from your trance.

"Capo?"

"... Yes?" You sucked your yawn in.

"If– If I told you I could find you a cure, but I'd have to sell my soul for it, what would you do?"

"Easy question: don't."

He was taken aback. Tighnari did not expect that answer.

"But why?"

"I know that look in your eyes, Tighnari." You shifted on the sofa, doing your utmost to stay awake. "Those were the same eyes Dimitri had when he killed his step-sister. That's the gaze of a feral animal. You're part of my familia, Tighnari– I'm not letting another fratello of mine lose himself to greedy impulse."

"What if–"

"No."

You spoke dangerously low in the tone Tighnari hears when you interrogate those who were chained in your basement. This was not the voice you used to talk to your men. This (Y/n) was not just commanding– this Capo was daunting and domineering. And he would loathe being at the receiving end of your torturous whip and fingers.

Suddenly, Tighnari had an epiphany.

Before he could save a kind friend, the professor would have to save a cold-blooded murderer first.

"Alright. Fine then. If you don't want to be the patient who'll help me get a Nobel Prize then have it your way." Tighnari joked, but his mind was made up.

He won't do as you commanded.

"But don't think I'll stop studying mosses. The world doesn't revolve around you, Capo, I still have many to save."

And just like that, he retired for the night.

Once upon a time, these half-asleep conversations were routinely done in order to check up on one another. A Capo is the busiest person one could be in Snezhnaya, and it warmed his heart to know you allot some time for his mundane conversations. But these heartfelt gestures are now mere ashes behind Tighnari.

Never to return.

—----

[Morning, 1 AM:]

The Fatui Headquarters is a daunting place.

Filled to the brim with murderous sociopaths, no sane man would act juvenile amongst your crowd. This room never fails to make you feel small. Everyone, from 2nd to 10th, showed up dressed to the nines with capes and fur, which was slightly less grand than the funeral clothes everyone wore for La Signora. Their extravagant yet sensible winter attire contrasts sharply with your unimpressive standard Prussian-blue coat in the sea of whites and blacks.

"Can't believe you showed up."

You turned to face the front. Scaramouche, in his custom-made Kasa hat, sat on the opposite end and sneered with disdain.

This gremlin never took a shine to you. The feeling is mutual. Whenever he utters a nasty word, the impulse to clothesline him to the nearest tree arises.

"It's not a habit of mine to miss meetings, it's not gonna change now no matter your wishes, Scaramouche."

"You dare use that tone against me? Remember who you are talking to, number eight."

As the 8th Capo– higher only for Tartaglia (10th) and the 9th– you were looked down on by the rest of the Harbingers. Had the 1st rank not been filled by a fellow Khaenri'ahn, Archons know how mistreated you would've been.

"I have a firm grasp of my identity. Never have I shared your indecisiveness, number six." You spat. "What about you? Have you decided on whether or not you're human yet?"

Everyone knows that Scaramouche may not even be human, but no one would open that can of worms other than you.

He crossed his arms.

"Maybe after you figure out whose fault it was that your men died, you… or that fox?"

"SHHH!!!" Tartaglia shook his pointer finger near his lips. When he noticed you staring, he donned his best brotherly smile. "H-Hey (Y/n), what do you think about the rising inflation in Mondstadt City?"

Tartaglia actively avoided talks about the Innamorati Arson Incident. It's been days and he has not once brought it up. You recalled how when you first visited his manor, he asked about your experience in the church of Sumeru– and it was solely focused on what happened AFTER the incident.

… Now that you think about it, he probably made those stupid jokes about Alhaitham that day because he didn't want you to look so grim.

"More problems with their funds, considering how most of it is all gone." The shorter man managed to still find a quip along the way. "Honestly, why are they even here? Shouldn't they go back to selling matchsticks by now?"

You visibly stiffened.

"Shut it, Scaramouche." Arlecchino interjected with a sympathetic yet mildly condescending outlook. "They're still a Capo through and through, even if they're past their prime."

Prime.

That's how they referred to the Dottore who had never taken a dose of canned knowledge. The youthful and composed Dottore you were once friends with.

You've always dealt with the very murky morality of your line of work by contrasting the transgressions of your coworkers. At least you went through rehab and detox when you were hooked on heroin. Meanwhile, he hasn't done anything other than feed his addiction. Truly, Zandik is fortunate to receive a wage that exceeds his necessities.

You and a monster like him are not so different, not anymore. He is no longer human; instead, he is a corpse that runs back home covered in more scrapes than on his previous visit. As for you? Well…

Batting your eyes, you scoffed breathlessly. Are you really past your prime? Words failed to come up when you tried thinking of a retort, and perhaps that was for the best.

Finally, the man of the hour entered the room.

Like many Khaenri'ahn kids, you formerly held Pierro in high regard. He was the gleam of hope that even impoverished and orphaned immigrants might change the tides, even if it was in a world other than their home country. For most, he's the one who would nod his head upward. Pierro, the first Khaenri'ahn Capo, was the hero in the eyes of your younger self who lived off thanks to the table scraps of your even younger foster siblings. Tsaritsa knows you fumbled on your first meeting, and you were proud that was the only time you embarrassed yourself in front of him.

Considering how things are now, it certainly wasn't the case.

Pierro took a proud stance and showed no remorse for what had happened to you. His gaze veered in your direction. At that very moment, if you had been blinking, you would have missed the disappointed expression on his face. He promptly rotated the whiteboard after removing his sheets from his folders.

You stood up. "Lord Pier–"

"Let's start."

You sat back down again.

The entire meeting was a blur. You felt like you weren't there the entire time. Arlecchino eagerly chatted about her child soldiers whilst the other occasionally quipped a word or two. When her turn was done, it was Scaramouche, then Capitano, then Tartaglia– not once had the bottle turned to face you. The reason behind that is simple:

Pierro did not plan to call you, Number 8th, during any of his discussions.

—---

The meeting was adjourned, but far from over. Just as you were about to head to the cathedral, a lithe hand pulled your coat sleeve, stopping you from reaching the front gates.

You sighed, looking at their perfect doll-like fingers, there's no one else it could be other than…

"Shylock businesses aren't my style– ask Tartaglia instead."

"You know damn well that's not what I'm gonna ask, Brighella?"

"Then what is it, Kunikuzushi?"

He flushed red at your venomous retort.

Neither of you liked those names– unlike you, who dislike your Harbinger title purely because it sounds stupid– Scaramouche doesn't like hearing his baptismal name out of family reasons. Guess who's the more insecure one between the both of you.

"Are… Are you al– tch. Forget it." He paused before he scoffed and pointed his finger accusingly. Scaramouche grumbled. "I invested a lot of money in your casino project, so there better be some results!"

You nodded, barely paying attention to his tirades. His infantile behavior was never endearing to you; you either find it repulsive or boring. With the weighing pressure on your mental state, you were quick to chuck his new burlesque anger as mind-numbingly monotonous this time.

"Sure."

"Sure? Sure what, worm?"

"The Casino is not affected– the men who handled it are all alive. Zero casualties."

Unless you count Dimitri who used to manage the Casino in his spare time.

"That's good to hear." Surprisingly, he sounded genuinely relieved for what felt like their safety rather than financial compensation.

"Agreed. Are we done here?"

His grip on your sleeve tightened.

"One final thing." Scaramouche leaned closer. "Use caution. Tighnari had likely received divine favors."

"Maybe you're stupid or you just don't care, but my devotion to Gnosticism is just a front. I appreciate your concern, though."

"I wasn't concerned. Just can't have my idiotic colleague underestimate what the divine can do." He smirked. "Can't have you burning another property you don't deserve."

You yanked your sleeve away.

Heartless puppet.

"Goodbye, Balladeer."

—----

[Morning, 3 AM:]

With Felix trailing behind you (Alhaitham was in his Akademiya job), you both entered the church searching for Sister Rosaria.

The stained glass of the church had recently been updated. No one was surprised when disciples started taking away any hydro-related emblems from all northern churches. Even if those pieces of art are incredibly captivating, the fascists had already started utilizing them as a sign of movement, thus they are deemed not worth saving for future generations.

"Since when did they begin removing those things?"

"Since yesterday," Felix said with bags under his eyes. It's clear to you that he genuinely didn't want to be here. "Under Architect Kaveh's orders."

"I see. Go get some rest, Felix. There are surely some empty rooms in the convent."

"Thank you, Capo."

You let him leave.

Should you die today, you've already written a will that Felix will be the one to inherit your position. You'll let him have his quite-possibly-last good sleep before the Capo life keeps him busy.

You stared back at the glass.

In a way, architect Kaveh was similar to Alhaitham in that you were familiar with their names but not their faces. Even though he is consistently the first to offer to assist you with construction, this man always finds a way to decline your requests for an audience. The last time it was because he caught boar fever (how? ), but that was nothing compared to the time he wrote you a disorganized handwritten letter about how an Akademiyan spy sabotaged his clothes after breaking into his home and harassing him to gain confidential information.

... At least he has extraordinary talent. You can excuse any eccentric traits as long as a person's value outweighs the costs. That is the same reasoning you employed when you hired Alhaitham.

"(Y/n), is it true that you're going to find Tighnari?"

That voice couldn't be anyone else but your little fratella.

You were about to answer with a firm "yes", but when you turned around you felt a pang of guilt seeing how troubled she looked. Her hands gripped the hem of her dress in a suffocating hold and her eyebrows were knitted together.

"In Sumeru City? Of all places?" Barbara scurried and hugged your arm.

"Don't go. Please."

[CHOSE: REASSURE BARBARA]

"Mia sorella, don't worry…" you cooed and soothingly lowered your gaze before bluffing. "Sumeru City's a lot safer nowadays. Alhaitham told me so."

[DID NOT CHOOSE: SAY "GOODBYE"]

[FAILED TO UNLOCK CHANCE FOR SECRET ROUTE: "MUSICIAN VENTI"]

"No…" Barbara stiffened and tore herself away. She clenched her fist, but everything else about her was calm and resolved.

Barbara looks exactly like you when she's mad. She mimicked your traits so perfectly.

"No. You're lying. I heard Sister Rosaria talk to Inquisitor Cyno– it's not safe there."

"Barbara…" You traced your thumbs against her cheek. Her heartfelt display of anger almost successfully beseech you to reconsider. She slapped your hand away, but you kept talking. "I have to go."

“No. No, you don't– don’t be prideful! At least bring some of your men with you.” Barbara argued.

You can’t. Some are stationed to help with church work while others are with Visconti Diluc. You purposely made them preoccupied so that they won’t put themselves in danger (like you.) Besides Tartaglia, there’s no other Capo who loves their people more than you– and perhaps this overprotective nature will be your cause of death, but so be it.

“Sister Rosaria will tag along. I'll be back soon– like I always do." You scooted closer to her, bending your knees a bit. With an unnoticeably forced chuckle, you shook her slightly. "C'mon, it's me, your very cool older Capo sibling. Don't you have faith in me?"

"I-I…"

There are two things that can convince a pure-minded individual like her who has been sheltered from harm: a prayer and a cheerful smile.

"If you're worried about me, why don't you pray for my safe return?"

And you know damn those are the only thing that helps Barbara keep moving forward– the two things that help keep her sanity intact or else she'll break down. Religion is her sole solace. Despite living in poverty, she wouldn't sin. She's "used to hunger", that's just the type of person she was. Without prayers and smiles, nothing can help Barbara forget how her real biological sister left her in this chapel.

"Can you do that for me, sorella?"

Barbara paused.

Snezhnayan men are the most religious. The people of Mondstadt nor Sumeru couldn't possibly compare with how Snezhnaya rears their impressionable children. Barbara was raised in this chapel and Snezhnayan culture ran deep in her veins.

“F-Fine.” Barbara sighed. “I’ll pray for you.”

You ruffled her hair.

“Grazie, sorella.”

—----

After reassuring Barbara that you will be safe and praying to an archon you don’t believe in, you slithered behind the church.

"You watched everything earlier, I presume?"

Inquisitor Cyno didn’t move a muscle from his position. He was leaning by the wall, staring at the church cemetery. Still, he cracked up a small yet wholesome smile. He seemed pleased by your response.

[AFFECTION METER: 39.05%]

"It's in my job description."

You smiled sweetly. "Forgive my sins, Inquisitor, I forgot you were a professional stalker."

"Not stalking; I'm monitoring you."

"What's the difference?"

"Stalking has a more sinister connotation."

"Oh, then forgive me, your holiness." You theatrically bowed.

Cyno nodded. "You are forgiven."

You laughed loudly.

The inquisitor innocently raised his eyebrow and tilted his head. His pup-like demeanor shut you up. Apparently, that response wasn't a joke. Ex-priest Cyno wholeheartedly forgave you in a religious fashion.

Why is he only hilarious when he's not trying to be?

You cleared your throat. "My apologies, I suddenly remembered a joke, that's all."

"Would you mind sharing?" Cyno asked. "I want to find new comedy material. My previous jokes didn't seem to work."

You were about to cut it straight that he's the joke but ultimately decided to keep your mouth shut. 'You mean 'ALL your jokes don't seem to work.'' is what you wanted to say, but kindness is not the absence of mean-spiritedness. It is when you are restricting such actions.

“I don’t think you’d find it funny.”

“Is it an inside joke?”

How very kind of him to offer you a way out of this one.

“Something like that.”

“Then I won’t ask.” The Inquisitor nodded. "But there’s something else I want to request. Won’t you allow me to join you–"

"No."

[CHOSE: DO NOT INVITE INQUISITOR CYNO]

[AFFECTION METER: 25.00%]

Cyno paused.

You cannot allow him to join. Since you observed how the inquisitor and your new underboss interacted, you had a feeling that Cyno's presence would cause more issues than they would solve. He knew Tighnari well. He might even kill him before you do if he is provoked. Besides, it's not as though any sane man would hold an Inquisitor captive if given the chance; that would be like trying to wrestle an alligator to scare a dog.

Plus, you want to exploit Cyno and Tighnari's previous friendship against him. The safest course of action is to bluff and say you'll kill Cyno should that bastard try anything funny.

“Why not?”

“I hate to impose or be more indebted to you, Inquisitor. My conscience will not allow it.”

Cyno frowned.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to rely on others, Capo.”

“How very strange that I’ll hear that coming from you,” You said. “I know it is not my place to say this, but I’ve done my research and found out that you fulfill your duties alone. Candace kindly told me that you’ve always been a lone wolf, so I can’t say I’m persuaded by your advice.”

“Hmm. Understandable.” That’s all he could say. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You held his hand. He flinched, both shoulders tensed up like a shocked cat.

Your hands weren’t warm. They were cold. But as a desert dweller his hands oddly fit well with yours– a perfect balance. Unlike you, however, he had never used these hands to do evil. The Inquisitor silently wondered how would it feel like if these fingers wrung his neck–

Cyno closed his eyes.

He cannot think of such sinful thoughts.

“Please relax, Inquisitor.” You spoke, circling the back of his palm. “I know what I’m doing.”

Should those words be the whole truth, then you must know unsavory your actions must be behind the pretense of kindness.

You debaucher.

“Do you now…”

You grinned.

That effectively made his heart skip a beat.

Cyno doubts you somehow knew about your hold on him.

“Hmm!”

“Fine. Then I’ll let you be.”

—----

He shouldn’t do this.

He’s worried. The Inquisitor did work with the spy before–

But Cyno doesn’t trust Alhaitham.

Cyno handed the disciple a dagger.

Alhaitham is calculating and most of all selfish. This was the man who actively disobeyed the church’s teachings unapologetically. Perhaps such behavior is cultured in the Akademiya but Cyno cannot stand it.

Maybe that's why he tried stopping himself first, but after that fire…

Cyno's overprotective nature worsened.

He convinced himself that this feeling was a product of his past losses and argues that this is just a precaution. The Goddess has given him a second person to watch over. A second Usir. A new blessing to make up for his past transgressions.

And he will not waste this second chance.

"Take this. And do not forget my orders."

—---

[Morning, 4 AM]

Towering dome buildings, abundance of trees yet eerily silent streets– Sumeru City was not a tourist spot for amusement.

Considering these facts, Dunyarzard, in all her former glory, still built a large theater underground called The Zubayr Theater. She had the intention of making the city a more joyous location with her contributions, and it's sad to see that it had done little to brighten up its citizens. Then again, Dunyarzard probably won’t be bothered by this if she lived longer.

You would know this because she was once your friend too.

Dunyarzard...

It’s a shame an invasive fox is hiding inside her paradise-on-earth.

That, and a troublesome dog too.

You glanced at Alhaitham. He behaved strangely the entire time, glancing at his watch as if he were counting his seconds down. Soon enough, he walked closer and tapped your shoulder.

"(N/n)."

Assuming this is about the akasha terminal he let you borrow, you let him talk. "Go on, speak."

[AFFECTION METER: 28.00%]

"Tuqburni."

"… what?"

"Means you bury me in Sumeru," Alhaitham said, looking away sheepishly. "I decided it'd be best if you heard it again, even if Cyno isn’t here."

Is he trying to imply that an Inquisitor would care enough to kill him? Please. He’s an insignificant cog in the grand scheme of things. If he’s so sure you’ll lead him to his death then he should just quit. Go back to being an Akademiyan spy, it’s not that hard.

"Good to know." You'll forget about that word in ten minutes, tops.

He pursed his lips, troubled. "You don't remember what Tuqburni means?"

"Can't remember something I never learned."

Alhaitham frowned.

"I see…"

Sister Rosaria swerved her way between you two before pushing Alhaitham away with little force. "Take a hike. We don't have time to entertain you, underboss."

His nose scrunched. "Sister Rosaria, age 25. Weight 80kg, height 5'9, address–"

"Yeah, no shit I know where I live, so what?" The nun retorted. "Think you can take me on with your calculator, kid?"

You snorted.

"I'm not trying to intimidate you," Alhaitham spoke. "I'm letting you know that–"

"Whatever." Rosaria clicked her tongue. "Capo, what're your orders?"

Thank the Tsaritsa that Rosaria is here.

“We’ll split.” You pointed at the theater. “There are three main sections in Zabayr.”

You handed Rosaria a map. Alhaitham didn’t ask for a copy– he presumed that you already trust that he knew the location with the help of new technology. Instead, it was Rosaria who had a follow-up question.

“Where’s your copy, Capo?”

“They don’t need one,” Alhaitham answered. “They were here when the place was built– they helped Lady Dunyarzard build her dream theater.”

“I didn’t issue any orders for you to speak.” You glared. “Know where you stand, underboss.”

You cleared your throat. "As I was saying, we'll split up. I'll scout the theater, Rosaria outside the buildings, and you're on the apex building. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Of course."

—----

Despite saying "of course" confidently, Alhaitham found himself in a small library.

This was likely NOT the place you ordered him to find, but the wealth of information stored around here was relevant to your investigation. Why? Because these were records haphazardly left by the fascists.

Their intel was right. The theater was one of their headquarters.

"These runes…" His eyebrows furrowed. “‘A tool that can only be used if the wielder upholds absolute justice above all else and would sacrifice the means for a satisfactory end.’ None of these descriptors match the Akademiya’s records at all, except...”

Alhaitham's eyes widened.

This specific piece of information corroborates how Tighnari behaved thus far.

"However, if the Archons live with us and not Celestia then isn't it possible that Focalor is–"

His fingernails dug into the papyrus while his eyes frantically skimmed through its contents. If the contents of this papyrus were true, then what the hell was that collaboration between La Signora and the Adepti about? What the hell did they exchange?

Alhaitham heard the sound of breathing.

He turned around and turned on his terminal, hoping to reach you before the assailant stops him.

"(N/n), be careful! Whatever Tighnari's holding, that's a gn–"

[SHUTTING DOWN…]

—---

The Akasha Terminal buzzed, the signal muffling its voice. You surmise that this was caused by the theater's layout. The architect of the Zubayr Theater– which is funny enough, still Kaveh– specifically chose this location for its lack of noise. That being said, it would be nice to watch an actual play here now that Alhaitham wouldn't bother you with his senseless blather. Pity that no one's performing.

"… B… c…ful! Wh….. na… ri…ho…."

"T…s … ...sis!"

You shook your head and nonchalantly thought out loud.

"The terminal must be acting up."

There's no one there to accompany you in your confrontation with Tighnari should you encounter him, and you preferred it this way.

You opened the door to the main stage.

And you finally found him.

You spotted the back of his silhouette lingering on the theater’s second floor. Props were crushed and some built-in chairs were knocked over. Whoever wreaked havoc around Dunyarzard’s theater had to pay– but that isn’t your main priority. Your target is already right here.

The professor no longer wore his cotton dark caramel coat– instead, he replaced it with a blander yet bolder black one that made his figure look larger. His eyes were vacant, looking forward as if a person would warp from near the ceiling. The bastard appeared to be waiting for someone.

Someone that isn’t you.

"Hello, professor."

A chill shot down his spine as his eyes met yours. Tighnari looked down, seeing you stare at him with a small smile. There was malice behind your peaceful expression. He made indescribable noises when he took a step back. No one else was in the vicinity except for the two of you, but his thoughts screamed that there was nowhere else to run. Tighnari knew that look was nothing he had ever seen before– a look of pity and anger reserved only for a dead man walking.

He sensed bloodlust, and it was consumingly relentless.

"It's been a while. Mind if I bother you outside office hours?"

Tighnari's hands were trembling but the rest of his limbs were frozen. He couldn't completely deny the possibility that he could die at this very moment. After all, he had seen your agility wipe out an entire floor of men with two dull daggers. If that was lazily done to protect him, he can only imagine the full extent of your abilities. On the bright side, at least you were below him and he could sprint somewhere– he just didn’t know where that is.

When you go on a hunt, you don’t stop until you catch your prey.

The professor knows that damn well.

"N-No," Tighnari answered with false confidence. "No, I don't."

"Can I ask a few questions, then?"

Your way of speaking contradicts whatever thoughts you both had in mind. Your voice inflection bounced off lightly, but the air shifted as soon as you traced your holster.

He didn't reply, and you took that as a yes.

[FREE TALK EVENT: START]

[READER REPLIES MARKED IN RED]

"Why."

It came out more like a general statement than a question, so you repeated it with added conviction. You're not a static force. You're here because you willed it– you're here to satisfy your demands. Your lust for revenge.

"Why did you do it? Why did you burn my manor?"

Like a grim reaper appeasing their curiosity, you spoke calmly while simultaneously patronizing his inconsequential life.

Tighnari bit his lip. "You already know why–"

"But I need the confirmation, the closure. Any reason to make your death tenfold more satisfying."

"I did it so that you'd get your cure."

Your eyes squinted.

Of course he did. You don't doubt him. You've known his obsession with Eleazar and how he rightfully suspected that you're burdened by this illness.

But he took the whole truth and poured some out.

"That still doesn’t make sense, Professor Tighnari."

He took a sharp yet deep breath. Tighnari's treading on thin ice. He was scared not just for his life. He was scared that this would be his final moment when he had yet to give you what you needed.

"I had to–"

"Surely the cure for Eleazar doesn't involve mass murder."

You were remarkably calm. As opposed to your uncharacteristically feral actions during the previous few days, this argument was entirely typical of you. Strategic and reserved, but ready to unleash everything in a single strike.

"I…" Tighnari bit his cheek. He sighed exasperatedly. "Just. Just trust me for once, Capo–"

"Don't call me that." You tensed up. "You lost the right to call me Capo the moment you betrayed your familia. How can I trust you when I don't forgive you? Why trouble yourself so much when you can rip my head off my shoulders right now? I'm just another body between you and your precious cure, correct?"

He almost didn't notice how you threw a dagger mid-talk like pelting a mere pebble. Tighnari dodged it, albeit barely, and you calculated as much. You won't let him die until he hears everything.

You spat lowly. "You snuffed the lives out of the only people that mattered to me."

"Please don't be mad. I had to–" Tighnari spilled. "I had to or else Focalor wouldn't help me."

"How the fuck can I not be mad? You're a fox, I'm sure you can smell the hatred I have for you. Your olfactory system is sensitive, after all." You masterfully kept your voice calm despite the severity of your words.

"Your associates are such idiotic bastards then if they have to kill my men for a cure." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Where is it? Where the fuck is the correlation, Professor?"

"It's to prove my loyalt–"

"The only thing you've proven is that you're a piece of shit. Is this what fascism is about? I can't see why you'd ever want to be one."

Tighnari looked down and muttered something you didn't hear.

"Who said I wanted this to happen?"

You continued. "I know I was only spared because I was in the chapel– so take out your gun so we can settle this already."

You fired a warning shot, this time with a bullet and not a dagger, burying another close call between his tall ears.

There were so many things to worry about, but Tighnari relied on hopeless dialogue. It's the only tool he has left to de-escalate the situation.

Unfortunately for him, you're better with words.

"I don't want to kill you."

"Teppei."

"... What?"

"Lyudochka, Kazari, Bao'er, Viktor… " You cocked your gun. "Lindhart. Did you regret killing them?"

"Capo, I know what you're trying to do."

"You should or else we'd both look stupid."

"But saying their names won't change my mind. I've already decided that they're replaceable as friends."

Replaceable?!

"You bastardo–"

You fired a second shot– it missed. With a bit of spite, you aimed higher knowing that he'd evade. You didn't repeat the same mistake.

He ducked behind the second-floor barrier.

But didn't take its spiral pillar designs into account, and the gaps were exactly where you aimed at.

"GAH–"

His guttural scream echoed across the theater.

You shot him in the leg.

Whoever designed that barrier had great tastes– you'll thank the architect for this later.

It'd be so easy to just kill him now.

"Your fur will look better draped around my shoulders, Vulpes." You aimed with Tartaglia's revolver. "It's winter, is it not? Don't worry, I'll put it to good use."

The most significant thing he would do with his life is dying.

Lucky for him, you can’t grant him that just yet.

You still have hope.

You still believe that there’s a way to get rid of Eleazar.

And as much as you hate it, you also believe in Tighnari.

Rather, you believe in his abilities and nothing more.

With the "goodness" in your heart, you’ll let him finish what he started.

"But I’ll suffer through the winter for now. That cure is the only thing keeping you alive. The day you finish your research will be the day I finish you. After that, I’ll make sure to kill every last person you hold dear."

Tighnari huffed self-deprecatingly, clinging onto his wounded leg by the theater's second floor. gazing at you with a melancholic stare. "Jokes on you (Y/n), there's no one else but y–"

"Cyno. Collei."

His eyes widened.

You smirked jadedly. "I had Inquisitor Cyno keep her in our custody. Did you know that pain is heightened ten times more for those of us suffering from Eleazar?"

You traced your old battle scars. They were all healed, but their numbers will keep multiplying.

Each time you pinch, no matter how dated these may be, it's as painful as yesterday's wounds. Nothing prepared you when you were diagnosed with Eleazar. Each wound, each papercut– the pain clings onto you like a leech that can never be scrubbed out, or else it'll cling tighter.

"It's excruciating. That's why I was addicted to heroin– it numbs everything. Have you heard? Children are more vulnerable when it comes to drug addiction–"

"Don't." He faltered, lowering his gun. "Please. Don't touch them."

Bullseye.

Them. He used the word “them” instead of “her.” Despite Cyno’s impression, the fox still cares about him.

Maybe you should’ve invited Cyno to tag along.

You tilted the revolver sideways.

You want him to inflict even more pain.

If Cyno were here, you would’ve made sure he said all the wrong things and watched Tighnari squirm. After all, you do have the uncanny ability to get people to behave in the way you want them to, don’t you?

"Then parry this."

But you didn’t pull the trigger.

Surprisingly, Tighnari bravely climbed up and hung his leg by the barrier, making him more susceptible if you attacked. You can’t tell if you hesitated or you’re curious as to what he’s trying to accomplish– the second floor was meters high above your station– he’ll surely die if he jumped.

Sister Rosaria emerged from your peripheral vision, ragged and stripped of breath. It's a long way from the main theater to the bazaar– she ran when she heard your argument as soon as possible.

Tighnari fished something out of his pocket.

A blue light shimmered in what appeared to be a chess bishop.

… What kind of trick is this?

"Tighnari, what the hell are you holding?" Your nose scrunched, squinting at the small piece. You could've sworn you've seen that symbol somewhere– in large glass-stained imageries.

"Can't you see?" Tighnari croaked, angrily crying out in a desperate attempt to make deaf men such as yourself hear. "Focalor is the Hydro Archon– there's no better healer than her if you would just allow us to help you find a cure."

His eyes… Whatever it is you’ve said, it had its impact.

Tighnari lost his mind.

Sister Rosaria's breath hitched. Fortunately for both of you, she understood the situation.

"CAPO, GET BEHIND ME–"

"This is the Hydro Archon's gnosis," Tighnari yelled. "I'll prove to you– I'll show you that all those sacrifices were worth every drop of blood I had to spill. Maybe I haven't figured out how to heal with it now but destroying things has always been easier than fixing them!"

Gnosis?

What the fuck is he talking about?

Like the 7 gnosis the Tsaritsa collected?

That bedtime story?

"Fox, where on earth did you get that?!" Sister Rosaria pushed you near the exit door, mediating the argument. "Where did you steal that divine artifact?!"

"Dear sister…" Tighnari chuckled darkly.

"If there's a will, there's a way."

He raised the chess piece to the sky.

"I'm sorry Capo– but this I swear: I never betrayed you." He spoke softly while his ears lowered. "Open your eyes– everything I do is all for your health and wellbeing. This little thing right here is worth more than your men. Easier to do things first before apologizing later, that's what you told me last time, right?"

"Fuck off." You didn't take a step forward. In this instance, Rosaria would handle this better than you could. "Take a swim in the river Cocytus for all I care– but don't you fucking dare dedicate that slaughter under my name."

[FREE TALK EVENT: END]

Tighnari grinned emptily.

[AFFECTION METER: ERROR.]

[AKASHA TERMINAL STATUS: DISABLED]

“I’ll never know.” He spoke softly. “I’ll never know why I like you so much. At this rate, I’m too afraid to find out.”

His hold on the “gnosis” tightened.

The bishop piece beamed.

“Farewell, my Capo.”

—-----

[6 years ago]

Alhaitham lived a monotonous life.

The same old nine-to-five schedule: wash up, dress up, eat, work, eat, sleep, and repeat the following day. When compared to his former self, he had a professional short haircut and was dressed in white dress shirts that were buttoned up. Alhaitham has the appearance of a plastic toy. Too typical and bland. Nothing exuded uniqueness.

He thought he got what he wanted. Alhaitham graduated and became an accountant, just like what he aimed for for years. As a child, he grew up under the misconception that he had something special. Alhaitham was the boy every parent preached about when their lackluster children produced little results. Maybe he was the smart kid everyone loathed– but his repertoire was genuine. The world handed him an easy-to-follow script, and he mindlessly fulfilled it with his innate abilities.

But for goodness' sake, if this is what success is, then why is it so empty?

His purpose in living had turned into nothing more than a bank's problem fixer until he returns to doing what he loved most:

Nothing.

What the hell is life boring him for?

"Tired of life, tesoro?"

Alhaitham looked up.

He saw an underdressed person wearing a white tattered shirt and lousily safety-pinned flip-flops. Had they worn white instead, they would be easily mistaken as a hospital escapee.

More specifically, they looked like they just got out of the heroin rehabilitation center just a few blocks down the street.

Alhaitham didn't send them away. They had a sparkle in their eyes, something that he lacked nowadays. However, there's something about it that made it more noteworthy compared to civilians around here.

Those pupils are (e/c) Khaenri'ahn eyes.

A natural trait, but its presence alludes to artificial happiness in the same manner endomorphs appear friendly and kind. No matter how lifeless a Khaenri'ahn may be, the gem in their eyes will always make them look more alive than the rest of the world.

They covered their mouth.

"Oh, pardon. I can't help but ask. You're rather down and I thought you needed a distraction..."

They didn't seem all that sorry when they immediately sat down beside him after that apology.

"Incorrect." He bluffed. "What makes you assume that?"

They smiled.

"I dare say you look like you've achieved everything you thought you wanted in life, but you're still feeling empty inside, aren't you?"

Alhaitham's head snapped back in their direction.

"What do you mean?"

"You work for the Banco Di Snezhnaya, around age 23, have a wage of 500 thousand mora per week," they chuckled, gesturing at his hair. "Aaand you probably don't own a hair dryer."

Stalkerish-ly spot on.

"How did you–" He clicked his tongue, disappointed at himself for becoming immersed in parlor tricks. "Nevermind. I'm not buying into whatever astrology thingamajig you're selling."

"Oh please, the only thing I'm selling are matchsticks. Hair dryers ain't astrology, ya dumbass, they're a new Fontaine invention." They huffed. "If my matchsticks could tell the future I would've achieved my dreams by now."

Alhaitham still can't phantom why, but he's oddly intrigued by whatever came out of their mouth.

"And your dreams are?"

"I want to become a journalist." They said, softly knocking their chest with a closed fist. "Future Teyvat Times journalist. The best of the best."

"Unlikely." Alhaitham muffled his laughter. Unlike most people, he can regulate his emotions masterfully well. "Someone like you who obviously achieved no real education? Give up on that dream while you're still ahead."

"Yikes. Already sizing up my intellectual capacity? That's rude."

"I'll see your dreams if it happens." He continued. "But it's my turn to guess things about you– you're a heroin addict who just got out of rehab and now you're stuck doing community service by selling matchsticks. Not only are you uneducated, but you also have a drug record so say goodbye to any stable employment."

They smirked. They were right– he's not the type to hold his tongue. That just makes him a better conversationalist.

"Close, but no dice." They snapped their fingers, pretending to be saddened by his faulty inference. "EX-heroin addict. I got out of rehab a year ago and I'm not selling matchsticks because of community service– that sure sounds better than the actual truth, though."

He'd rather they communicate properly with little subtext and implications. Alhaitham sighed. "Alright, fine. I'm hooked, what's the truth?"

"Don't tell me you can't tell." They raised an eyebrow before they pried their left eye open, showing off their unique pupil. "I'm an immigrant, so of course finding a job is as easy as becoming the seventh archon, ragazzo."

Their butchering of the Snezhnayan language further cemented that they're not from here.

"I didn't get any quote-unquote "real" education, but living on the streets? You'd be caught dead if you're not skilled at inferences." They said grimly, but the smile on their face never left. "That's why I know how to spot a person easily. I know a guilty murderer when I see one, and I know an unsatisfied man once I look down on him sulking by the fountain."

"Right. I forgot you're Khaenri'ahn." Alhaitham muttered.

"Well, then you must be the first person to do so. That's literally what everyone points out after looking at my eyes. Congratulations." They snickered.

"Why am I even talking to someone as arrogant as you?"

"I may be arrogant, but you're a lot happier now that I'm here, aren't you?"

Alhaitham froze.

"See? I'm pretty good at swaying people into behaving the way I want them to."

"What's your goal exactly?" Alhaitham pulled out his wallet. "Need me to buy a pack of cigars? I'm not funding your addiction."

He said that but he already took out 150 bills.

"Nah. That sounds great though but I was just trying to practice my conversation skills." They sheepishly told him. "I want to practice speaking Snezhnayan, and also cause I want to seem friendly."

"'Seem' friendly?"

They laughed. "Well, we all have secrets, don't we? There's something powerful about being charismatic yet setting boundaries all the same. Master both and you might just get somewhere."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alhaitham grunted.

"We've been talking for a while now– I'm (N/n), and yours?"

"That's…"

Alhaitham subconsciously glanced around.

Morepesok was not one of Teyvat's safest plazas. And they look Khaenri'ahn in the worst place possible, not that anyone besides him would appreciate that. Drugs are prevalent but it's not the only social cancer in the plaza. Petty thievery, human trafficking, money laundering, the list is bottomless and in no small thanks to the syndicates. Immigrants especially get a bad rep around here as either helpless victims or eager puppets, so forgive him for exercising caution based on generalizations.

They cringed. "Ah, right. Don't worry– no need to spill your real name, just give me something I can call you."

He paused.

"... Deshret."

"Well, well, nice to meet you Deshret. Is that from The Scarlet King's Court Jester?"

"Nevermind. Let's just change it to–"

"No no no! It's perfect." They said. "Very underrated bedtime story. The kids loved it… even though it was pretty dark and abusive."

"Many say it's a real tale."

"Do you believe that?"

It was also his favorite story as a child.

"Yes."

"Heh. I don't, but I don't want to make little Kaeya cry." They laughed. "As you can probably tell, I'm Khaenri'ahn, and we just don't have all these strange cultural beliefs you people have…"

They gazed down his thighs.

"Hey Deshret, isn't sitting with your legs together uncomfortable? Go on, cross your legs, or whatever. I don't mind."

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow before he slowly did what he was told. It's been a while since he sat this way. He trained himself to stop since it wasn't appropriate in the office, and somehow he forgot he could still do it outside work.

He relaxed. The change in posture was effective.

"... You're creepily perceptive."

"As I said, gotta be more observant." They chuckled. "Being liked is key to survival–"

Out of the blue, a loud metallic thud reverberated around the plaza. The both of them flinched at the sound and everyone turned their heads to its source.

"Hey, isn't that Adepti Underboss, Xiao?" They whispered.

The Adepti were incredibly busy that year. By June, a rat published a book entitled "Rex Incognito" where they detailed and provided evidence that Morax is the Geo Archon himself, which makes the piece both heretical AND entertaining.

The man, whom they both assumed was underboss Xiao, tossed a man upward till they landed on the roof of a nearby car. With his lithe yet muscular form, he swiftly disposed of a 70kg policeman like a garbage bag. No one moved a muscle in their direction. Not a single person showed empathy for the nose-bleeding cop in the middle of the plaza. The civilians pitied the car owner and not the injured man. Only children shrieked at the sound. For the rest? Just another Wednesday garbage cleanup.

There's no semblance of justice in Teyvat that remains in broad daylight.

Alhaitham closed his eyes, disappointed.

"Pathetic how the tri-mafia overpowers the military police in every way. The police are useless."

"Yeah man, fuck the system."

"Fuck the system indeed." Alhaitham nodded solemnly. They nearly laughed at how strangely innocent the word 'fuck' sounds coming from him.

"Wanna know what we should do?"

"I genuinely don't."

"Let's join the mafia together."

Alhaitham snorted. It's funny how he considered himself a pro at regulating his emotions moments prior because now he couldn't hold back the cute little chuckles that betrayed his lips. His shoulders trembled as well as his hands while he composed himself.

That was the stupidest idea he had ever heard.

"W-What?" They asked mid-laughter as well, clearly not considering their own enthusiastic suggestion. "Don't think we can overthrow the government together? Tsk, tsk."

They look positively malnourished. Alhaitham would bet on the chance that they'd achieve their dream journalist career rather than a stable life as a future mafioso.

Then again, Alhaitham looked very straight-laced and put-together before he joined Akademiya.

"Ah yes, an accountant and a matchstick vendor joining the mafia together; one of them might even become the next leader. Find out next time in chapter 3."

"Coglione, I'm the one who's going to be a journalist here, not you."

"Not with that awful pronunciation you're not."

They frowned. "You Teyvatans are so strict with your stupid lingua francas."

"But still, it's not a bad idea, isn't it? Let's meet each other again after we join the mafia." They nudged his side. "Same time, same place. C'mon, it'd be funny if the next time we meet you'd be holding your head thinking that there's too much excitement in your life now."

Alhaitham rolled his eyes before he looked down at his watch.

"At 6 in the morning?" He looked rather amused for someone who claimed to be uninterested.

They bantered back with the same vigor. "6 AM sharp of course, tesoro."

Alhaitham chuckled.

They laughed along with him.

"Heh. Anyways, say, what's it like being an accountant?"

"Well…"

Since then, the two of them began meeting weekly as Deshret and (N/n). They've used their morning hours as an excuse to get drunk in the crack of dawn. Both have forgotten what the true purpose of that time was,

But it's not as if they'd both remember that joke, right?

—---

Well, if that's true, then Alhaitham doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.

Something about that small conversation rekindled a fire in him– a torch he had never once touched for he saw no need for it. But after seeing how empty those cubicles were– how mechanical the bigger picture was– nothing had been the same for him. His conversations with coworkers were barely anything compared to what he shared with (N/n). Dialogues in the office were canned scripts, and they were oh-so-predictable.

And so that morning, he went up and quit his job before accepting the offer to be the Akademiya Syndicate's bookkeeper.

But (N/n) was nowhere to be found in their usual spot.

Not in the fountain– not in the old bar.

Where the hell were they?

Alhaitham asked the people of Morepesok if they'd seen them, but these efforts were futile. Some were eager to point out that they know what's-their-name-s, but none led back to where they were. And the street urchins that were familiar with the name (N/n) assumed they'd departed the country and gone back to their homeland.

He refused to believe that. Passions quite like theirs do not burn out as easily as he did.

As a result, waiting in Morepesok for (N/n) in the hopes that they'll return has become a daily ritual. For the first few days, no one was eager to approach the new Akademiyan mafioso; instead, he would monitor the time with a feverish bloodlust. Even in Snezhnaya's harsh winters, he is frequently observed by numerous concerned bystanders who urge him to get inside because it is cold out. None of their worries stopped him. He saw waiting as a chance to relieve stress. These quiet moments remind him of his humble humanity, and he was grateful to have ever met (N/n) because of this.

Yet they never came back.

But Alhaitham never held it against them. It's alright.

Thanks to them, he lived the kind of life he never knew he dreamed of.

"6 AM sharp, huh?"

The more he hung around the square, the more people thought they understood him. They were under the impression that this immovable man was not on a syndicate mission– he was just a lovelorn yet patient man.

"But I doubt I'm far gone. I just appreciate them. That's all there is to it." These were the words that helped him sleep at night. But if the term "lovelorn" simply means "unrequited" then perhaps the way he feels while waiting for them to return fits the description.

He was still sitting upright by the fountain in Morepesok Plaza, waiting expectantly for (N/n) to return like a dog.

—----

And even now, he waited.

Until (Y/n), Capo of the Innamorati family, found him lying on the ground.

(N/n) didn't come.

"(Y/n)..." Rosaria whispered while her face grimaced at the pungent and metallic smell. You both observed the pool of blood on the ground.

You and Rosaria narrowly escaped the blast of whatever divine power Tighnari conjured– and you’re still processing what happened in the theatre that you couldn’t comprehend the body right in front of you. If Rosaria wasn’t there to lift you on her shoulders you would’ve stood and resigned to your fate. Thankfully, you weren’t wounded, but the bump you had on the seats when the water pressure pushed you back nearly gave you a concussion.

In the end, you both came back for Alhaitham with soaked coats and socks, dripping from head to toe. Rosaria’s veil was discarded and left by the doorsteps as it was distractingly clinging to her skin– you would’ve done the same with your coat had it not been one of your favorite ones. Your cold and quivering limbs weep for respite but you remained steadfast. However, your mind does not share the same willpower. Your thoughts were slow but chaotic.

Just how did Tighnari flood the underground theater earlier?

Was that really a gnosis?

Why did he have one?

Where did Tighnari flee now?

You shook your head in an attempt to focus on what was in front of you.

Who attacked Alhaitham?

His neck is bleeding and there's a clean stab wound on his neck. The crimson trail trickled down to his exposed arm. With his back leaning on the wall and head facing down, Alhaitham did not move a muscle. You know little about Alhaitham but you did know one thing: he wanted to work with you far longer than your first guess.

Suppose he’s underqualified to be an underboss, after all, failing his first (and last) mission like this. You once heard Pantalone say that "Akademiyan spies are the weakest species in Teyvat" and your new "underboss" proved that right by messing up the marble tiles with his blood.

The collar you were supposed to give him feels useless in your pocket.

Maybe you should've picked Enjou instead. That crazy maniac would survive better than him, and he's just a merchant in the Abyss Market you like to gossip with.

Alhaitham is pathetic. Was pathetic.

"One of those fascists likely killed your underboss," Rosaria said, sounding awful like she was reading from a script. "It seems that Tighnari will do anything to stop you from maintaining your position."

That's funny, cause the only way those shits can achieve that is by burying you alive– and they failed miserably– comically, even.

Did they seriously think you'd weep for Alhaitham?

For someone as “replaceable” as him, as Tighnari would put it?

You've said it once and you'll say it again: that's fucking hilarious. Tartaglia would love this story– you're sure. They've already taken your best friend Dimitri, everyone else is secondary. You love your men, but they know they can never be him. Hell, you'd argue that if the others were equally loved, Alhaitham would be "less equal" than the others.

You didn't take a second look at Alhaitham, and not because you lack remorse.

The real reason is too boring.

He's not dead.

He's just unconscious.

Sadly no, that was not just the first stage of grief speaking. There's still some life left in him. He's nowhere near as cold as a corpse shouldn't be. Would've made your job a lot easier if he was, but he's still breathing, albeit shallow and excruciatingly so. However, that doesn't change the fact that he'll survive. All for one damn good reason–

Sister Rosaria was the one who attacked him.

The inquisitor must've left him like this hoping that fate will decide whether he lives or not, which means she was hesitant to kill him. In a way, your casual friendship with the nun saved your second underboss. This isn't your first rodeo– you've had good friends who tried to kill you once and vice versa, and it's nothing a visit to Angel's Share can't fix. Rosaria was merely a tool. Her feelings had nothing to do with this. It's a good thing your conversations with Sister Rosaria are never dull, you hate to imagine what you would've done to her otherwise.

Lucky bastards, both Alhaitham AND Sister Rosaria.

Still, this meant that someone else ordered you to assassinate your underboss.

Someone from the church. The very same cathedral you swore fealty to and devoted half of your life's work on.

You laughed furiously.

"Hahahaha! I see!"

Who the FUCK is the rat that tried to take what's YOURS?

You wrapped the scarf around his neck taut like a gauze and propped him upward. Alhaitham's weight leaned on your right side as you began lazily carrying him. It doesn't look like he'll wake up soon, so at least he wouldn't be bragging about getting carried by his boss.

Rosaria wore a stiff expression.

You both know the truth, and she's wholly aware you've pieced everything together. But you're not mad at her– any sister of Barbara is a familia to you. She's just following orders, and if what the church wanted was to frame Tighnari for this…

Then who's to say they haven't pinned someone else for any other crime?

But that's not what matters now– Alhaitham's situation is urgent compared to these half-baked conspiracies.

"He lives." You said. "Don't worry Rosaria."

Neither of you addressed how you subtly forgave her.

She placed two fingers on his wrist. The nun sighed a little too relieved when she felt his pulse.

"Good. Then we should go find help."

You smirked. "Oh, no need to worry. I know a medical professional nearby."

"Whoever it is you have in mind, you better make the right call, we're losing him." She spoke casually.

Neither of you showed any semblance of panic over a dying man.

Sister Rosaria, a child of the Archons, was more afraid of your fury than his stripping lifeline.

"Of course, Sister Rosaria."

In all honesty, he's by no means the "right call" for this scenario. But who else can you turn to,

other than Il Dottore himself?

—---

→ Common Route First Half Complete!!! ←

A/n: Did y'all think Alhaitham was going to die? Me too. Trust me, I'd give you guys a lot of chances to kill these three.

Btw, did some of their dialogue sound familiar? You're all very creative!!! I had to cut some responses off (I'm sorry.) because some were already similar while others currently don't fit the situation… But I hope some of you read it and went "oh, this is MY answer from the open-ended question (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)!!!" I want you all to feel like you're part of what builds Capo!Reader's personality!

Same as usual, the underlined word (Il Dottore) leads to the polls. Have fun voting!!!

Deadline: TBA

Taglist, thank you all for reading "OC!MC!" ❤️: @scaranaris-lil-niko @ruru-senpai-is-an-infp @vienettacream @theglowfly @vermillionite @nasidibakar

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