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tarjapearce · 4 months

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Ok, ok, ok, hear me out….

Tarzan Miguel…

Ahh, nonny. Casually just saw this scrumptious fanart of him as Tarzan by @Miuworm in X 🫠. And yeah. (Kinda amazed at how you guys manifest these things 🤭)

Like Me

Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Reader.

WARNINGS: nothing too bad. Depictions of violence, a bit of implicit gore and animal death. No proofread.

Summary: Your savior from a certain death is quite touchy-feely.

Another for Miguelverse ❤️✨

The furious waves of the sea clashed over your body, submerging it in the freezing and alive water.

Arms moved, swimming your way back up, gasping for a much needed gulp of air as soon as you reached the surface.

Peeking around you, trying to find something to get a hold of or climb on, exhaustion was crawling up to your limbs, like hypothermia.

Fuck

Mind cursed with every foul word you could've imagine. How did trip ended up like this? In what moment the clouds turned so grey they darkened the sky, announcing a downpour with a loud rumble? It all took minutes to go sour and south.

You were there to do a land recognition, and see if you could get home some new species. Sergei Kravinoff, or Kraven The Hunter, was the lead of your expedition, all financed by a man named Kingpin.

Your name was called, echoed in the distance.

"Over here!!" You flailed your arms in an attempt of being seen, and hopefully the debris wouldn't blear their sight to find you.

You swam in the direction of the voice, teeth clattered, tool belt heavy on your hips, but you knew if you lost them, any possible chance of getting another were impossible. Plus, Kraven hated it when you lost your equipment as they weren't cheap.

Every paddle of your arms felt heavier, like if your wrists had been tied up with iron pounds, dragging you down. Lips turned blue and trembled. Salty and cold water doused you, but you weren't to give up.

You had fought your way to get a spot in this expedition and a pathetic ending like drowning wasn't an option. You spotted a wooden board floating nearby.

C'mon!

Your hands stretched towards it anf finally managed to keep yourself afloat. Panting, groaning and shivering, letting the cold to finally sink in. Feet had started to numb out, ragged breaths turned laborious.

Once more someone called you, this time you recognised the voice. Peter, the other nerd according to Kraven. You two were the ones selected to be the scientist that would lead Kraven to a certain victory in Nueva York.

Ever since Norman Osborn and Otto Octavius had discovered new species of spiders and reptiles, everyone proclaimed them geniuses ahead of their time, leaving the hunting behind.

Kraven was set into getting either a new species or something alike to regain his forlorn glory. He refused to be forgotten.

But everything pointed that the island you were now had a mind of its own. As if preventing anyone to delve in further into it's secrets.

You were pulled out from the board by Peter that immediately covered you up in a raggedy blanket. Despite the fabric being old, it gave you enough warmth to avoid death taking a hold on you.

Kraven cursed in russian, but was hopeful y'all be found soon. The ship's black box was ruined, your luggage at least was minimal, and it was enough to be saved by ether Peter or anyone kind enough.

A powerful and enormous wave had turned the boat upside-down. Knocking everything loose out of the board. The guns and other tools were the only things that survived.

But, you hoped, the whole fiasco was just temporary. Fisk wasn't a careless man, he'd probably send help soon. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your bones to freeze.

----

You woke up nearby the makeshift fireplace, relishing the heat your body had lacked. Clothes were humid, but no longer soaked and freezing.

Sighing, you stirred awake, letting the tension leave your body with a groan.

"Hey, wake up." Peter approached, concern etched into his features as he helped you on your feet.

"Where's everyone?"

"I... We uh, got lost. One moment Kraven is here and the other he's not. Left us behind. Or, he also got lost."

"Kraven? Lost?" Peter could sense the deadpan in your voice and he sighed, exasperated.

"I'm just trying to light up the mood. He was pissed. So I assume that he just thought he'd do it himself." He shrugged and you sighed, rubbing your neck.

"Great! now we're lost, my luggage is nowhere to be found but at least we have tools, right?"

The faltering in Peter's face made yours to fall as he shook his head.

"God, I swear... Fuck him. If I'm discovering something, Ain't sharing with him!"

"Let's focus on surviving first. The soil is rich, meaning the jungle is nearby."

"And so is the wild life." You sighed and Peter groaned.

"Look, thinking negatively won't take us anywhere. I'm not saying either let's throw a party for being stuck in an unknown place. But we gotta move. It's about to get dark."

"Right... You're right" You rubbed your face, exhausted, at least you weren't freezing anymore. But being at Nature's mercy wasn't pretty either, yet again. You were selected by none other than Sergei. If he trusted your judgement to be valuable enough, why couldn't you?

With a new resolution in mind, you took the raggedy blanket and other little tools Peter managed to salvage and soon ventured yourselves in the thickness of the jungle.

-----

Sun had long disappeared in the sky leaving a faint trail of golden and orange in the clouds, and you were certain that it had been hours since you walked in the jungle. No signs of Kraven or the caravan of people.

No signs of society or at least his stupid russian jokes that you were sure people laughed at by sheer convenience.

The only advantage Kraven possessed in his favor, was him being an avid hunter. You only studied species, animals and flowers to be more precise, and had a little knowledge of mechanics. Enough to fix your own machines and trinkets. Peter was an expert in mechanics and soil. You followed him.

"I think I've seen that rock before" Peter sighed as he slouched against a tree.

"Don't say that, Parker." You wheezed as you followed him, resting your aching back against him. "I'm definitely finding some poison and put it on Kraven's drink."

"Relax. Without us he's going into unknown territory."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's a professional hunter. And I hate with passion skirts."

The distant rumble of a storm approaching echoed through the sky.

"A hunter, not a geologist. He acts like an animal to get animal bodies."

"Still, he knows his way around these places, Pete."

"Shooting things till they're dead isn't knowing about things"

Peter stood and offered his hand.

"Uh-uh I just sat down."

"We gotta at least go upwards. This area is prone to flooding."

With a vexed groan you took Peter's hand and he pulled you up. You were tired of walking, but if he said you needed to advance, you obeyed.

"Fuck..."

----

Despite the soaking rain pouring around you, Peter had found an amalgamation of trees and branches supported by a hollow tree.

Birds chirped and cawed, bugs joined the concert once the rain subsided, the distant flapping of the birds and the rustle of leafs prevented you from lowering your guard. The only comforting thing besides Peter's company was the petrichor smell, pungent in the air.

You'd spend hours inhaling the gift of nature, if it wasn't for your belly grumbling, and Peter had ran out of cashews.

Even crickets sounded tempting to eat. With the right spices, they tasted crunchy. But all you could do was to imagine their taste as it was time to move again.

"Knowing Kraven, he'd go up to the mountains, probably they've sent a camp nearby a river. So let's look for one."

"Yeah, even better so I can drown that fucker in. He better pay us good for this stupid prank."

Peter chuckled and looked around for a minute, his blue eyes narrowed upon setting his sight in a tree trunk. Broken in half, but what truly made his... whatever this unpleasant feeling to rise within was the vicious marks indented on the tree bark.

Powerful scratches filled with bloody chum and crimson liquid, paw like marks painted in the trunk. The source of such gruesome spectacle laid in whatever pieces was left a couple of inches away. He could make out a tail, and small hind legs. A baby monkey, or rather half of it.

"Uh... We better hurry."

Peter swallowed, and the urgency in his tone only made your worry to shoot heavenwards.

You both walked, speeding up the step. Unaware of the keen eyes, hidden in the bushes that followed your every moves like a hawk. A low growl filled in the space he occupied.

---

You were certainly to die.

Undeniably, and it didn't matter how fast you managed to run, the jaguar quick paced trotting had you pushing your limits. Tears blurred your sight, as a garbled sob escaped your lips.

Scratches adorned your arms, decorating your flesh with fresh oozing wounds, dirt and leafs stuck to your marred flesh.

Chest heaved with deep and ragged pants, wobbly legs menaced to give in under the pressure at any second

You were going to die.

Even though life had been incredibly dull and the only comfort was your investigation, you didn't want it to end so soon. Not whenyou were about to accomplish a promise to yourself.

Peter had gone lost and separated once the chase began. One minute he was before you, and the other, your friend was gone, out of sight and reach. But the relentless giant feline behind you preferred you. An easy prey.

Your wails and cries for help fell upon deaf ears, who would listen to you in the middle of the jungle? For once you wished to have Kraven's gun expertise.

You didn't care if hypocrite defined you right now. You took a thick branch, swinging it with difficulty and pain at the euphoric beast, like a demotivated baseball player. But the jaguar's claws swatted the useless weapon away from your hands, and making you stumble on the ground.

This was it.

Oh God, oh my god, no, no no

The animal pounced and by instinct, you shielded your body with your shaky limbs. But no harm came.

You could feel the beast's warm and bloodthirsty breath on your head, snapping it's maws at you, desperately trying to reach for a bite of your supple flesh.

Eyes wide in horror, and disbelief. The jaguar was held by his tail, earning whoever that was holding it back from devouring you a couple of swings with it's sharp claws. But the animal was set into getting to you. It pounced on your boots, claws sinking on the back of hour ankles, earning a sobbing and painful wail.

A gruesome crack and a roar echoed behind you, and only then you were able to see your savior.

The tallest man you've ever seen, even taller than Kraven, strong and well built physique, a rich tanned skin full of scratches and long healed wounds. Hair long, reaching a bit past his shoulders, muscles that heaved and rippled in every breathing you did. Body hair etched beautifully in his skin.

Covered in nothing but a loincloth.

If it wasn't for you being at the death's gates, you'd take your time to study him.

You gasped as he held the oversized cat with his hands and slammed it on the ground. They circled eachother, shifting between the roles of hunter and prey.

The feline hissed, and the man returned the threat, a cold sweat ran down your spine upon watching two overgrown canines, on his mouth. Fangs. He had fangs. Brown eyes stared at the four legged monster, defying it.

And soon the jaguar took his invitation. The two majestic creatures fought, enraged, proving their prowess to eachother, disputing the role of Alpha within the jungle's hierarchy. They rolled on the ground, biting and clawing at eachother.

With a lurid snap the man cracked the beast's neck, earning an agonizing wail from the mean cat. He staggered before slamming his fist on the animal, forcing the last breaths out of the beast.

His nose flared, proudly, while his hands slammed his chest.

Terror was still taking a hold of you, and there was nothing you could use as a weapon. Your hands braced your shoulder as you tried to carefully stand, but your clumsy feet stepped in a branch, snapping it in half, like the jaguar's neck. Brown eyes were immediately on you.

You swallowed hard.

He approached, hunched and prowling over, his knuckles and toes supported his hulking frame.

"S-Stop!"

He quirked an eyebrow, curious and within seconds he was before you.

Breath hitched on your throat, face so close to yours, he could feel your breath blowing on his chin.

You hissed as he took a hold of your arm, examining the damage. There wasn't rage in his features but nothing more than untampered curiosity.

His hands reached for your hair, sniffing the strands, you couldn't help but giggle when his nose hovered over your head, sniffing you, a bad moment to be ticklish, really.

Breath caught again as his nose nuzzled your neck.

"W-Wai-" His fingers prodded at your lips, rubbing the calloused thumbs on your soft mouth. A satisfied grunt rumbled in his firm and hairy chest

He toyed with your face, examining it with child like wonder. He turned, prodded and licked your cheeks, reminiscing in your taste with a confused look.

"U-uh, sir-"

What is he doing? oh god.

He hunched even closer to rest his ear on your chest. Heart pumping violently inside your ribcage, eyes darted towards the covered mounds, he sank his face in between them, taking a deep inhale. A low growl came from within and your cheeks flared in a deep flush.

Oh shit, shit

His hands cupped your mounds, sending a shiver through your body, but you slapped his hand away. He looked taken aback before baring his teeth to you.

"No!" You covered your chest and backed away, but his nose flared to then grab your head and placed it on his chest a tad forcefully. Warm and plush skin met yours. You gulped again.

Powerful echoes boomed through his chest.

The natural musk of him tickled your senses, his hands roamed your lower back and your alarms flared.

"H-hey, hey!"

He pulled your feet up, sending you tumbling backward, skirt rolling down your thighs, exposing your legs to him.

You tried to cover your skin by gathering your skirt up. His nose again sniffled as your wriggled underneath him. Hands prodding and picking at your toes, earning a clumsy giggle

His touch was like molten lava, it sent a shudder down your spine.

His fingers were having a good feel of your flesh, as if confirming you were real.

With each discovery his interest only grew. He then cupped your face again, smooshing your cheeks together, giving a deliberate lick on your lips.

"T-The polite thing to do is to take me out before that happens!" You mumbled nervously while trying to get yourself free.

His eyes narrowed once more as he lifted up your skirt completely, revealing your panties.

It gave you little to no time to prepare you for his next move. He sunk his face in between your thighs taking a good whiff of your scent, another pleasant growl came from him, by reflex, your hand slapped him. And this made him look at you, confused but clearly upset while holding his cheek.

"No! Stop it!" You warned while gathering your skirt underneath your knees and pointing at him. Cheeks impossibly red

He seemed to understand as he crouched before you. Muscular thighs flexing as he sat, mimicking your actions.

"Uh, uh. No. Don't do that"

"Uh Uh, No. Don't do that"

He repeated with the same authoritarian tone. Voice surprisingly rich and alluring. Your eyes went wide.

"You can speak!"

He repeated like a parrot.

"Can... Can you understand me?"

His brows furrowed then quirked. He was about to come up with a reply when the rustling and your name being called echoed behind the foliage.

"Over here!!!" You shouted, this alarmed the man as he stood, backing up from you with a mistrustful glare.

"Wait! No no! Don't go!" Your hands wriggled, but it was futile.

He left before anyone could see him. Climbing the trees like it was another playground game, until he disappeared out of sight.

None other than Kraven showed up, machete on hand, swinging it the weeds and plants that dared to cross his way.

A shit eating smirk plastered on his face.

"See? I told you, she'd be fine." Kraven patted Peter's shoulder as they kept moving to find a perfect spot for the camp.

Kraven crouched to where the jaguar's body laid and looked at you.

"What happened?"

"I... don't know. I-I panicked. Was running from a snake and I found that there."

Sergei just hummed, as he watched the body, eyes raking the feline's carcass before beckoning two of his men closer.

"Skin him. Don't have this type yet."

Kraven took a deep inhale. Death's stench sparking alive the hunter in him.

"Whatever killed it, needs to be in my personal collection of trophies."

Peter in the meantime cleansed your wounds with water, to then apply some clean bandages on them.

The whole group moved, upwards to the mountains.

"What the heck happened!?" he whispered aggressively

You made sure for Kraven to be within a reasonable distance to speak again.

"You won't believe me if I'd tell you."

Cause in truth, how would you explain a man, taller than Sergei, killed with his bare hands a wild animal and got way too touchy with you but is able to speak?

The road was long. You had time

Peter sensed your discomfort and pressed no further. However, the feeling of being watched never waned. It was the group, against the jungle's secrets.

----

Taglist:

@fayeofthenightingale

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #Miguelverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n

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mykingdomforapen · 1 month

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LC's Link Click fic shout-outs

I worry I'm going to come off as nagging but I do feel strongly about it. Link Click has some INCREDIBLE fic, written by people who put a lot of time and energy and effort into writing, but they don't always get a ton of reader interaction. I feel like I often find a fic I enjoy, scroll down to comment, and find I'm maybe one of 2 or 3 people to comment on it.

Link Click is technically not a small fandom--on the contrary, it's so incredibly active! But it seems that unless a fic was published in the s1 era or happens to get lucky, this is the norm. Which strikes me as sad, because the fandom is popping and active on other platforms.

So here are a handful of fics (by no means exhaustive) of fics that I've thoroughly enjoyed that I had scrolled down and went, They deserve so much love! (again, not exhaustive!)

liminal by Anonymous

Qiao Ling and Lu Guang talk. Much is left unsaid.

It's such a subtle fic, but so effective in showing Lu Guang's emotions, Qiao Ling's worry, and the nature of their relationship in conjunction to Cheng Xiaoshi. It's truly just so soft and nice.

stain by HeavenlyDusk

The only way for Cheng Xiaoshi to be dead is for Qiao Ling to have died first.

I just love a Qiao Ling confronts Lu Guang about Cheng Xiaoshi's death fic, and this one really captures big sister Qiao Ling and how much she cares about both of her boys. I love it!

resolve and reverberations by macrauchenia

Lu Guang rarely fumbles, rarely cracks, and rarely steps up to the sparring mat first. Nevertheless, on a random day in the middle of September, he does all three. Alternatively, Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi can't figure out why their best friend seems so *wrong* for no explicable reason.

A slice of life fic that adds such a delicious sprinkle of angst at Lu Guang's expense hehe. But it makes me feel so sad for Lu Guang, who just is so traumatized of losing Cheng Xiaoshi, and then it gives him a soft encouragement at the end. It's so sweet.

Instinct (Part One) by JordannaMorgan

Hired to solve a wealthy client’s personal mystery, Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang discover there are even darker powers in the world than they realized… and the damage left in the fallout will not be easily fixed for anyone.

Man, this fic is so CREATIVE. It is great at suspense, kept me on the edge of my seat from chapter to chapter, and the Cheng Xiaoshi angst is so delicious. And then the ENDING. gahhh, I cannot wait for Part Two and really hope that it will come!! I think about this fic so often

A Day Like Any Other by rane_ne

After three long years, for the very first time ever, Lu Guang finally gets to turn 20.

It's just ... gahhhh. Cheng Xiaoshi is my blorbo, yes, but Lu Guang being so relieved and emotional at the end because he's finally done it, and is turning another year older because he no longer has to dive back because his friend is alive??? GAHHHHH

Memoriam by JordannaMorgan

Even for those who have no powers, photographs are powerful things.

This is a lovely case fic that is so thoughtfully, emotionally, and tenderly told. I love the compassion that the story has for the characters, and it gives me the feelings that the Earthquake arc concluded with--finding joy and kindness even within the tragedy. I really love it.

sept, oct by Toothpaste_Fresh

The first time around, there are no rules, and Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi must learn all of their lessons the hard way. The first time around, Cheng Xiaoshi is the seventh of Liu Min’s victims. The second time around, there will be no seventh victim.

Gosh, this fic is so goooood. I love the speculation of what the first time round was like, and GOSH it's just such a gut punch of dramatic irony, of both CXS and LG being bold and idealistic and naive, and then how it tragically leads to CXS' death. It's EXCELLENT.

Golden Hour by StuckIn_aTimeLoop

The salty breeze feels nice. Cheng Xiaoshi smiles as he kneels down in the sand, happy they managed to make it in time for golden hour. Cheng Xiaoshi holds up the camera to capture his shot.

I LOVE ME SOME PARALLEL SCENES THAT ARE CONNECTED AND INTERTWINED BY AN EMOTIONAL MOTIF!! The juxtaposition of two types of golden hours is done so well, and both are so full of energy of opposite kinds in such a well balanced way. I was so excited when I heard this fic was being written and I was so happy reading it.

the shine in your eyes reminded me of the moon by StuckIn_aTimeloop

Cheng Xiaoshi was barely a child when his parents died. The king took him in, raised him as his own. Now he's older, it is time for him to choose his own knight.

Prince Cheng Xiaoshi and Knight Lu Guang. Need I say more??? It's so indulgent and I love it.

#LC recommends #link click #shiguang dailiren #shiguang daili ren

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sparrowrye · 2 months

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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 23

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 23: new discoveries

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor wasn't having it.

Once Spring came and sprung everything in motion for the haven, I had been increasingly busy. Spencer, our resident reporter, had been pasting articles all over Hell about life inside the Hazbin Haven. They came swarming in once the surface was warm enough.

Arleen was making all kinds of new changes to the street layout and buildings. Everyone was needed to build the new homes and businesses. We were gradually becoming more self sufficient as Demons with different backgrounds and employment came through.

It was becoming a concern to the Slight Human residents that there were too many Demons and not enough Humans - well adult Humans. So I was charged with finally spreading the word about our haven. I took Spencer with me to divide and conquer some of the towns. Alastor tried to reassure me that Blackwater wouldn't make a move on our haven just yet.

Speaking of which, he still very much wasn't having it with me. I was so involved with Spencer, Vivian and the children, stopping fights, and Reagan that I failed to notice Alastor's growing impatience. I still slept in his bed with him but that was generally about it. I was exhausted by the end of the day that sleep was the only thing on my mind.

It didn't help that his shadow was being very touchy with me as of late. I felt the ghost's hand wrap lightly around mine, feeling like a small gust of wind. It also repeatedly tried to get my attention by flying around the walls until I looked at it. It would mimic Alastor's moves and bow low when I finally did acknowledge it. I could feel a laugh from Alcine, my shadow. If I was busy, she was eager to take the shadow's attention off me and onto her.

Or Alastor dispersed his rogue shadow with a thud of his cane. He wasn't exactly the most patient person. So he made sure to find a way to secure a chunk of time to spend with me.

"I'm afraid we have business to attend to, dear Charlie," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder and pulling me back against him. "I will be sure to send her your way when we are done." Then whisked us both out of sight.

"What business?" I asked when we solidified in the living room. He moved like a snake, quickly wrapping an arm around my waist and putting a hand behind my head to press a firm kiss into my lips. The movement caught me off guard but sent a bolt of something into my stomach.

"Our business," he replied when he finally broke the kiss. "You have been far too busy for my liking."

A smile pulled at my lips. "I didn't mean to make you feel lonely." I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his back. His eyebrows perked up with surprise but he recovered and melted his mind with mine, clouding my thoughts with his excitement.

The radio turned on to a lively tune. He put an arm behind my back while the other took my hand. He moved smoothly and quickly, leaving me to catch up and try to step in time. I preferred the slower ones since I very obviously didn't have a talent for the upbeat songs. I kept stepping on his feet or not moving in the right direction. I felt like I was being dragged rather than dancing.

He wasn't bothered in the slightest, chuckling at my panic and struggle, but I was embarrassed. My face was red as I tried to follow his lead. Eventually, though, I pushed away and tried to make myself smaller.

"Looks like I need practice." I tried to laugh it off.

It took him one step to close the distance with his long legs. He touched my mind again, searching for my feelings, as he placed a gentle hand on my cheek. "Then practice we will."

After that, I was quick to ask Charlie to borrow her phone. I looked up dancing but there were so many different ones and so many that didn't match the feel of the dance he had attempted with me.

So, begrudgingly, I asked Husker if he could help. It somehow managed to get back to Charlie who cut out a section of our busy schedule for her, Vaggie, Husker, and Angel to teach me how to dance.

Husker was the only partner I was comfortable with, so the others gave pointers or recorded us so I could watch it over. I felt more at ease with Husker who didn't really react much if I stepped wrong or on his paws.

After a few days, I finally figured out the rhythm. Dancing, as I discovered, didn't have any set rules or anything. It was just a flow of mostly sporadic movements. Husker lead most of the time but if I wanted to do a move, a slight change in the way I raised my hand or moved my foot gave him the indication. I learned to recognize the same in him.

My practices somehow managed to get back to Alastor (probably from Niffty who meant no harm by it). He wanted to react immediately, pulling me away from anyone's eyes to demand an answer. But he waited. He stood just inside the front door as I walked in from a long day. I immediately knew there was something up with him.

"What?" I asked, looking him up and down as the door closed behind me.

"How was your day, my dear?" he greeted, ignoring my prompt.

"What is it, Alastor?"

He loved hearing his own name fall from my lips.

His smile stretched just a hair before he took my hand and pulled me into the living room to stand in front of the fire. "Have you been dancing with someone else, my dear?"

My ears stood straight up. "I've been...practicing with Husker. How did you know?"

He let out a short laugh. "My darling, I know everything that happens in my estate, and everything that pertains to you." He gently ran the back of his claws along my cheek, my skin soft against his leathery one. "So tell me, why have you sought him out?"

"I was..." I gently removed his hand from my face and wrapped my claws around it instead. "I wanted to know how to dance. So I could do it better with you."

"My dear," he lifted both my hands over his shoulders so he could lock his own behind my back, "I appreciate the thought and effort, but please, something like this I would prefer to be the one to teach you. You shouldn't feel afraid to learn from me."

"I'm sorry." I tried to take my hands away but he caught my elbows, pushing them back up to their position around his neck.

"Thank you darling. So please, allow me to show you." He turned the radio to something that was in the middle of lively and slow. My nerves returned as it now felt like a test. I hadn't danced to this kind of music, yet, and he knew that.

This dancing had a lot of turns in it. His hands and eyes were glued to mine the whole time. His upper buddy was very still compared to the quick, small movements of his feet. I tried to follow along and keep my eyes trained on him in an effort to show I could do it.

Halfway through the song, I fell into the rhythm. His smile grew and he tried to change the direction a few times to see if I could keep up. The challenge was invigorating and I found myself actually enjoying the dance. My smile matched his.

Another song followed. This time he added a twirl here and there, our hands reconnecting perfectly like magnets. I started to feel the way I did when I was in nature: like I belonged.

The song ended on a high note. Our hands were outstretched to the side and our chests heaved from the exercise. I felt sweaty but happy. My heart swelled when I touched his mind and felt the same feeling. Every time I touched his mind he would wrap his entirely around me. It wasn't invasive like it once was, but rather a comforting hug.

"You need only follow me, my dear," he said, breaking the silence. I chuckled and slid my hands out of his. He immediately connected his palms with my waist to hold me in place, drawing me closer to him again. My hands came up to rest on his chest and fiddle with the folds of his jacket.

"I suppose I shouldn't have doubted you." I stared at his red jacket a moment longer before finally inclining my head back to meet his eyes.

"You can still redeem yourself."

I made a look of confusion. "I already said I was sorry."

"Simply not enough," he shook his head, "I require more than that."

"What are you looking for?" I looked up at him through my eyelashes, raising a single eyebrow as he had done to me so many times.

"Perhaps a kiss would suffice?" The soft, genuine tone surprised me. He didn't sound like Alastor the Radio Demon. He sounded like Alastor.

My sarcastic remark fell silent, not daring to ruin the sweet moment he had created, and went up on my toes to meet him for a kiss. One hand came up behind my back to thread his claws in my hair and press my head further into the kiss.

The sensation sent another new feeling through my body. My back arched forward as he leaned further, my body curving perfrctly against his as if it were a puzzle piece. He tilted his head ever so slightly but it was perfect for deepening the kiss. My fingers curled his coat into fists.

Then I felt his tongue touch my lip. It shocked me and my gasp gave him the perfect opportunity to slip it past my lips. My eyes squeezed shut as my stomach flipped inside out. His sharp teeth moved against mine as his tongue ran over my own. He moved quick, like he always did, and left me helpless to his advance. My chest burned and I didn't dare pull away.

But he did. A small string of saliva fell between us as he pulled away just enough to look at my eyes. He grabbed one of my wrists, gently squeezing it to tell me to let go, and pulled it up to his shoulders. I got the message and locked my hands behind his neck, bringing us even closer.

He was eager to slid his tongue in again. I let him and moved my own in circles with his. His lips weren't still, either, as he deepened and shallowed the kiss every few seconds. One claw remained firmly in my hair just below my horns while the other splayed across my back.

I let out another gasp when a tooth nicked my tongue. He grew more aggressive, even going as far as to try to bite me again to taste my blood. I turned my head away and pushed his chin high up to stop him.

"That hurts," I said, swallowing the coppery taste. He straightened up and loosened his arms, letting out a heavy sigh that I mimicked.

"My apologies, dear. You are...irresistible." One of his hands moved from my shoulder down to my black claws. He lifted my hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back, a huge contrast to his actions only moments before.

I suddenly broke into a yawn, tears collecting on the edges of my eyes. He let out a soft chuckle as he snuffed the fire and quietly lead me upstairs. I changed in my room before walking over to his. He was already in bed but wearing a short sleeve this time.

My eyes instantly found the part where his black skin blended into his normal colored skin. There were little bright scars along the black skin and it barely reached up to his elbows like mine did.

I moved swiftly to the other side of the bed and climbed in. His eyes never left me, one arm holding up the covers to help and the other arm slightly beneath the pillow as an invitation.

I nervously moved closer and allowed him to engulf me with the warm blankets. His arm wrapped around my back and pulled me up against his chest. My one arm reached over his side as my head rested on his other one partly beneath the pillow. A mix of smoke and sweat filled my nose.

"So beautiful," he whispered, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. My cheeks warmed and his mind touched mine, somehow wrapping himself even more so around me. Yet I still never felt like I had enough of him.

I pressed my face into his chest and took a deep breath. I could smell the cedar, now, and the combination of all the different scents were registering in my mind as him.

I moved my arm to scratch my leg but froze. His body went very stiff as a response, mind unwrapping from me but still enough to read my feelings. I brought my hand back to feel for the texture that made me confused.

It was fur.

"Is that..." I shifted away so I could look him in the eyes, but he wasn't looking, eyes averted to the pillow and smile strained. His ears were pinned back, too. "Is that a tail?"

He let out a short, annoyed sigh. "Yes."

"Since when did you have a tail?" My claws gently moved with the direction of the fur, making sure to be light and gentle since he was very obviously uncomfortable.

"Since I was born." His eyes darted once to me, then again when he noticed my new stare. It turned into a smile when I saw him watching. "What is it?"

"Can...can I touch your ears?" I asked slowly, afraid that he might yell or pull away. He didn't, though. He gave a mumbled 'yes' and slowly brought his ears back up to stand straight.

I moved my hand from his tail to his face, letting the back of my claws gently run along his back. His one arm was still across my shoulders and he used it to pull me closer so I couldn't look up to see his face, but I could.

His ear twitched when my fingers finally found it. I kept my touch light as I ran them up the back and twisted the hair between my fingers. He was purposely trying to make it hard for me to reach but our connection told me he wasn't hating it. After the nervous wreck he's put me through, he deserved a little himself.

I was tired but an idea popped in my head.

I brought my hand back down and shifted away, earning a confused look from him. I propped myself up on an elbow to get a better look at his red eyes. My closest arm laid across his shoulders as my tail wrapped around his ankle.

"Are...do you...what else are you hiding from me?" My tail moved to his feet that were apparently deer clove feet.

"A deer is unthreatening." He tried to sit up but I laid my weight on his side so he couldn't. His eyebrows perked up, claws finding my shoulder and nervousness wounding its way into his head.

"But why not tell me?" I reached up to touch his ears, catching his eyes closing as my claws moved through just his hair. A lot of little secrets were revealing themselves.

For a while he didn't answer. I gently massaged the edges of his one ear, then moved down to the base where he let out a huge sigh. I moved my hand away from his ears and pressed down on the area around his antlers, earning yet another sigh. It was nice to see him like this, quiet and unthreatening.

The urge overtook me before I could stop, threading my fingers in his hair and moving it to the side to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes snapped open to look at me, fluttering shut again when I moved to the other ear.

My elbow was getting tired from holding myself up. I told him to move his arm from under me, feeling a strange twist in my stomach as he silently obeyed, and laid down. He rested his cheek on my stomach, wrapped a lanky arm around my waist, and moved his leg under one of mine. The tip of my tail gently wrapped around his newly discovered one that twitched from the contact.

My claws began to massage both ears now, occasionally running them through his hair or around his antlers. This was very much new and not worthy of any complaints.

We fell asleep like that, waking up in the late morning with legs tangled and hands clasped firmly together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Enjoy my little devils

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #charlie morningstar

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throwaway-yandere · 2 years

Text

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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lilacthebooklover · 2 months

Note

For the ask thing

Oh! Yours came in right after I finished answering another request for 9 heheh, looks like I'll just have to find another piece..

9) With characters I love

Travelling within the void is an odd experience, Eternal Sugar must admit. There’s a sense of weightlessness; she’s walking on air, more drifting than anything else. She shifts within the darkness, makes to move a certain way and finds herself floating in that direction. It’s helpful, not having to deal with inconveniences such as gravity when she’s already exhausted. “Shadow Milk Cookie!” She calls out, voice soft and breathy as another yawn escapes her. She blinks bleary eyes, trying again. “Shadow Milk!” She does hope he isn’t on the Dark Side of the Moon, still pining after his Hero. It would be awfully inconvenient to have to wait for him to return after all of this effort. Eternal Sugar, like the rest of the Beasts, could probably access it herself if she tried hard enough. Only Dark Magic was capable of catalysing the chaos they had created upon falling, so she’s well-acquainted with it by now. Still, she’s always been far more finely attuned to Dessert Magic, and the Dark Side of the Moon is hardly her field of expertise. Shadow Milk is the one who’s studied it, who knows its intricacies, who succumbed to its overwhelming hold first. He hadn’t taken well to discovering the truth about their kind. Eternal Sugar reminds herself to refrain from mentioning the witches once she finds him. Shadow Milk has gone on and on about his continuous deception of Pure Vanilla Cookie within that space-like abyss. Eternal Sugar wonders how devastated the Hero had been upon finding out he’d been susceptible to such tricks. In a way, she pities him. Like them, he had not chosen to hold such excessive power; it had been bestowed upon him in a glorious halo of saccharine falsities, any aspect of its past omitted from his knowledge as he was told to protect Earthbread. In another way, she resents him. It is not his power, not really, and once they are free he will still view them as nothing more than Beasts, despite their oh so very similar origins. He has yet to fall into the tempting grasp of indulgence. From all that she’s heard, he cares little for his own wellbeing, far too sacrificial for his own good– or that of his kingdom. Shadow Milk will try to take him down with them, Eternal Sugar knows. She’s still not entirely certain how he feels about his successor. Some days, he rants and raves about the injustice and misuse of his stolen power. Others, he mutters under his breath about how the cookie makes no sense, a hint of insanity tinging his words as he puzzles obsessively over how Pure Vanilla Cookie has managed to remain such an unfaltering symbol of good even after everything he’s seen and done. But what intrigues Eternal Sugar the most is Shadow Milk’s sharp smiles, the amusement that glints in his eyes whenever he mentions the Hero. Shadow Milk values entertainment as much as he does control, and it appears that Pure Vanilla provides quite an intriguing source of it. Shadow Milk has taken the time to observe him to the highest degree, unpicking everything that makes his other half tick.

Eternal Sugar my beloved.. Pure Vanilla my beloved... Shadow Milk my beloved.... They're my scrunklies <3

#i hope this will quench your writing thirst >:D #writing ask game #thanks for participting!!#ask game #cookie run kingdom #eternal sugar cookie #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #crk #crk fanfic #cookie run #cr kingdom #fallen heroes #crk fallen heroes #pureshadow #vanilla milkshake #shadowvanilla #thmemm..

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diana-bluewolf · 10 months

Text

Yay, I’ve finally finished it!

Some stills from the video.

Have you ever wished Sebastian's side quest line ended differently? Yes, me too. That's why I made this video (yet there's still its own crisis in it, sorry). The first part of it mostly retells the beginning of their story from the game, but the ending is different.

I really hope you enjoy it because I've been working on this for ages, trying to get the hang of mods and AI voices. I've written some clarification further, maybe you’ll find it helpful after watching the video (to avoid spoilers).

youtube

Sebastian’s impulsiveness reminded me of that moment from the original HP stories, where Harry uses Sectumsempra on Draco. You know, an absolutely unfamiliar spell “for enemies” with unknown consequences from a mysterious book.

In a normal state of mind Sebastian would have never hurt Ominis or, after what happened with Anne, he would have never doomed anyone, never mind his best friend who he does care about, to such fate. But Anne was getting worse, the relic was his last hope, he was desperate, his mind was in a mess. He was mad at Solomon, who seemed to do his best to prevent Anne from healing.

When Ominis tried to stop him and take the relic away, Sebastian said that he won’t step back from a fight. Ominis unintentionally responded with the same words that Solomon liked to say about Sebastian, a powerful trigger. “He doesn’t know when to stop.” Sebastian’s exhausted mind interpreted it as “to stop saving Anne”, Solomon and Ominis’s images mixed up in his mind, so he lost it. His anger wanted them to feel what Anne feels. He cursed Ominis with a powerful dark spell, which he had learnt from Slytherin's spellbook by the logic “the better prepared we’ll be”. Sebastian regretted it a moment later but it was too late. Ominis had survived only because Chris (MC) had managed to get him to healers fast, but he still remained seriously ill afterwards.

Sebastian and Chris were trying to find a cure. Eventually Chris discovered that ancient magic could take away dark energy that was ruining cursed people's health. Just like Isadora did with mental pain but safer, because unlike the latter dark energy isn’t supposed to be a part of being a human. Although Chris had been avoiding Dark Magic before, he realised that now he needed to attune himself to it a little, so that he could recognise its energy in a patient (Ominis and then Anne) and extract it. And that is where Sebastian's knowledge of Dark Magic turned to be crucial, because he guided Chris.

They had managed to make a special potion, which together with ancient magic not only cured Ominis of Sebastian's curse but also had a side effect - it returned his eyesight. Let's imagine that he wasn’t born blind after all but he lost his eyesight in infancy because one of his brothers loved to fiddle with dark magic and Ominis came in handy as a training dummy. And the Gaunts covered it with a made up story about congenital disability. So when Chris rid Ominis of all the dark magic impact, it affected the eyes as well.

So, the main idea is - there would be no happiness, but misfortune helped. Sebastian did curse Ominis, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise of some kind. Though the price for Ominis' eyesight was quite high - trust in Sebastian. Hopefully, they can sort it out eventually.

---------------------------

Mods used:

“Male Face Replacer - Ominis Gaunt“ by JustAnOrdinaryGuy

“Unique Player Eye Shapes“ and “Brighter Eyes“

“Male Face Replacer - Sebastian Sallow“ by JustAnOrdinaryGuy

“UETools - Developer Console . FreeCamera . Debugging“ by Cranch

“Character Editor“ by nathdev

“Animations Mod Menu“ by YouYouTheBoxx

“Anne Sallow's Face“ by brucetesting123

“Party like it's 1890“ - Wizard edition by Aryksa

“Sebastian Sallow's Closet (Alternate Clothes)“ by leoisalion

“Ominis Gaunt's Closet (Alternate Clothes)“ by leoisalion

“Alohomora Mod” by Alfairy

“The Ultimate Wand Collection“ by Rosestorm

“Highlight Remover“ by HaywirePhoenix

“Emote with any npc” by nathdev

“AnyTimeCompanion” by Pez

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ai voice #hogwarts legacy male mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy ominis #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy video #hogwarts legacy mods #hogwarts legacy ai #elevenlabs #sebastian sallow ai #ominis gaunt ai #Youtube #omiris

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percyaugod · 7 months

Note

Dear fucking STARS I love the Shell-don of himself AU.

Can I please get more?

Thank you! ^ ^ Yes you can!

12 Mikey is still alive, just broken down into energy. Could technically be brought back if they can figure out how to reverse the effects. Draxum would probably be the one to figure out there's an entire person in there. Studying Shelldon and trying to get more readings after finding out about the soul and discovering something more.

There are mixed reactions to the news. 12 team having new hope that they might get their Mikey back, Rise turtles not sure how to feel that there's a whole person inside Shelldon, Donnie refusing to accept it because he doesn't want to lose Shelldon, and Shelldon... Shelldon doesn't know how he feels about this. Sure being able to do things like eat and feel someone holding him would be nice, but he'd also be feeling pain. Not to mention no longer being able to fly. Would his old body even feel like his anymore?

They eventually bring 12 Mikey back. Things are still a bit jumbled but his memories are clearer now that he's been put back together. 12 team celebrating with hugs and tears. They and other Mikey stay in Rise for a bit to make sure he's stable and nothing goes wrong. The Shelldon that Donnie is left with is just data. He doesn't have the same soul, literally. Donnie just kind of powers him down. He'd rather not have to face the reminder.

Bright side, He does remember being Shelldon. Though anything before update 13 is a bit fuzzy. Alright, Donnie can roll with this. He can just be an older brother to another Mikey. What do you mean you're older? Bullshit you're the same age as Raph.

12 Mikey having some trouble with the whole flesh and blood body thing. It was so much easier just running a code to move. Now he has to put in thought and effort. It leaves him constantly sore and tired. And charging requires more than just plugging himself in! Donnie put him back in the robot.

He was joking but no one took it well. Not even Donnie because he thought going through the process too soon would be too dangerous. He was given pizza though, good enough.

12 Mikey tried to help in the kitchen once and got banned. If Rise Mikey ever sees him put pizza near a blender again not even Donnie will be able to put him back together.

Rise Donnie making 12 Mikey a hoverboard so he can fly again.

12 Mikey gets electric powers and gets to keep them this time because Donnie still sees him as a son so he's family and that's his Ninpo. 12 Mikey has tried using it to cook popcorn. It did not end well. The drawback to the power is using it too much exhausts his energy and makes 12 Mikey very sleepy.

#tmnt 2012 #ROTTMNT #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 au #tmnt au #rottmnt au #tmnt crossover #2012 mikey #rise donnie #rise shelldon #rottmnt shelldon #A shell-don of himself AU #asks

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blackrosesandwhump · 29 days

Text

Nathaniel's Bane, Part 3

Part 2

BTHB: That's Not Normal

Fandom: Original work

Synopsis: Shut in the library on a stormy night, Nathaniel is stricken with a powerful, unusual wave of magic from the cursed stone.

CW: magic whump, magical illness, pain, Gothic whump

As the storm beats against the library windows, Nathaniel sits hunched over, absorbed in his research and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest. The lights flicker in a sudden draft; he glances up briefly, then down again at the open book in his lap, rocking slightly back and forth.

There has to be something useful here. He crosses his arms tighter and clenches his teeth against the stabbing pain in his chest. I have to find a way to make this work.

Though the book he discovered a few days ago is missing now, the idea it implanted in his head is still there, eating away at him slowly. A deal. A deal with…the devil, maybe? It wasn’t clear from what little he managed to read.

And now, shut away among piles of books in the flickering light, he has to find the answer.

He would give anything to remove the horrible magic from his body.

Thunder cracks through the night, and almost simultaneously, a lash of agony whips through him, stronger than before. His body seizes in a convulsion. He gasps for breath, eyes wide and terrified, staring into the shadows.

Not now, please not now, I have to keep looking—

He collapses sideways, causing a pile of books to topple with a thud and scatter across the floor. Among his strewn research, his body twitches and jerks, stricken by wave after wave of horrible magic emanating from the stone. In the pit of his stomach, he feels something else too: a dreadful kind of knowledge.

This isn’t normal. It shouldn’t be like this.

What’s happening to me?

His thoughts fizzle out into a sick, tormented haze.

What’s happening…can’t breathe…make it stop…please…

A touch on his shoulder. Someone’s hand.

“Nathaniel, sir?” The voice sounds familiar. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The servant boy, Sol. Somehow, the slight weight of his hand is enough to calm the pain just a little, enough for Nathaniel to open his eyes.

“It hurts,” he mumbles brokenly, unwelcome tears pricking at his eyes. “Something’s wrong.”

“I know,” says Sol. “I’m sorry, sir. Let me help you sit up.” He braces an arm against Nathaniel’s back. The boy sits up slowly, swallowing down a rush of nausea, and catches his breath.

Books are scattered everywhere. The place he was reading disappeared in the mess of pages when he fell.

His heart sinks a little. He would give anything to find a cure.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” Sol asks, shifting his weight to alleviate his crippled foot. Nathaniel glances at him, feeling a little guilty.

“No, I—I’ll go to bed.” Please help me. I don’t want to stumble around in the dark alone. But he says nothing, only struggles to his feet and stands there for a moment, trying to keep his breath and heart rate steady.

“Please be careful, sir. And make sure you get some rest.” Sol is already straightening up Nathaniel’s mess, limping on his ruined foot.

The storm crashes against the windows, and Nathaniel steadies himself against the doorframe as a wave of exhaustion washes over him. The hallway outside is dark and still, and he navigates his way slowly, the candle in his right hand only slightly unsteady. His stomach is still weighted with dread.

It's getting worse. The magic is growing stronger somehow. And it’s destroying me.

It only occurs to him as he’s dropping into bed that he should have asked why Sol was walking around at such a late hour.

@badthingshappenbingo

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imagine-that-one-thing · 1 month

Text

Chapter 5 "Sanity Slipping"

Word count: 5,569

Harry X Anastasia || Royal Fanfic

Master Link || Chat with me

•••

The media has been camped outside the palace gates, waiting for anything juicy to report on. Unfortunately, they haven't been very kind to me online. I did make headlines, but not in the way my father had hoped. People are talking about 'The Monarch being in the hands of an unsteady Queen.'

The media's relentless assault paints me as unfit, unstable, and unreliable, their words carving deep wounds in my already fragile sense of self. If only they knew the truth behind their own painted words. Last night's events epitomize the distorted narrative they weave, twisting reality to fit their preconceived notions. Is it twisted?

Am I truly unstable? The question haunts me, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness as doubts creep in like tendrils of smoke, obscuring the clarity of my own judgment. I find myself questioning not only my character but also my mental state, wondering if their relentless scrutiny has eroded the very foundation of who I am and what I’m supposed to be.

Last night, in a moment of vulnerability, I almost succumbed to the overwhelming tide of emotions that threaten to engulf me, nearly begging my security guard to stay by my side, to shield me from the relentless onslaught of my own demons. And in that same breath, I almost pleaded with him to cast aside the veil of secrecy that shrouds our relationship, to allow us the freedom to express ourselves openly and authentically.

But as the weight of their accusations bears down upon me, I realize that their portrayal of me as unstable is not a reflection of reality but rather a projection of their own fears of the monarchy and the prior government they have created. I am not unfit to be Queen. I am not unstable. I am simply human, navigating the treacherous waters of power and politics with as much grace and dignity as I can muster. Above all else, I am trying, I’m running this rat race to the best of my ability and they don’t even know half of the story.

I'm hoping my father will be able to handle the situation and put a stop to all the negative press. Unfortunately, my father announced an unknown relationship at a garden party and our media team released a story to the publishers. Even though names were never mentioned, it was speculated through many sources with multiple names. I’m a train wreck in the eyes of the media.

Being inside the palace with my father at this time is awful for everybody, the staff are attempting to discover ways to hide out and keep away from him. He is on a warpath. Two people have been fired and my mother has had to overrule him and hire back the staff. My mother tends to do her own thing and stay out of his way, but the last few days she has been handling things and challenging him. Last night I heard her arguing with him about some of his decisions that are unknown to me. I couldn’t hear the whole conversation.

He went behind my back and painted a misleading picture for the media to dwell in, and now that his picture has streaks running through it, he wants to be deranged. My life should be private, instead, my life is a matter of privileged information for anyone who works for the media.

I hear the sound of rustling grass and a few hushed coughs. Turning around, I see Harry walking towards me wearing a light jacket. "I'm sorry for being late," he apologizes as he approaches me. Lately, I seem to be hearing apologies from him more frequently. I am not sure why he is apologising, he said he was leaving for a few days.

I smile and shake my head, "No worries," I reassure him. I notice the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly dishevelled hair, but it doesn't look bad. "Are you okay?"

Harry nods, "Just exhausted. My flight was delayed," he admits, clearing his throat.

“I thought you were leaving for a few days?”

Harry nods his head, "Something told me to come back."

I softly smile to myself, a sense of happiness fluttering through me like a spark just ignited inside of me. “I didn’t intend for you to come home early.”

Harry hums and steps closer, his lips pressing to my forehead, “Sometimes, I know better.”... “I'm surprised to have found you here.”

“I’m procrastinating. I have a meeting with a parliament official. Can you give me a reason not to attend?” I softly question, and Harry sighs.

Harry shakes his head, “I’m not allowed to interfere with that.”

“I don’t want to have this meeting and deal with it… what kind of mood is he in?” I softly question, hoping for a positive answer but aware of what I’m going to receive.

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, his lips pursed into a straight line. “Let me guess, you don’t want to overstep and give me an answer?” I ask, assuming Harry’s lack of words has a reason.

“He’s fine with me, we smoked cigars before I left. And he offered to pick me up from the airport.” Harry informs me with a raspy voice, stopping for a moment to clear his throat, “The king is pissed off in general, especially with you not cooperating with his plans.” Harry's voice is dry and dull, there’s a struggle in his tone as he continues to speak.

“I’m walking into the lion's den, great.”

“Mhm,” he hums. He is aware the King is pissed with me and my lack of decisions. I am making my father’s life hard, but it’s better than making my own miserable. “Care to talk about last night?”

“No,” I bluntly respond. I have no desire to relive my self pity and whirlwind of emotions. I’d much rather forget that my emotions are a prominent thing. I’d like to formally turn them off for a few moments.

Harry nods his head, respecting my response, “I have to go. I’ll try and find you later.”

“Walk me back to the Palace?” I offer, watching as Harry sighs before he nods his head and we begin our ascend back up towards the Palace.

As we walked to the Palace, the only sounds were those from the surroundings. Harry seemed to want to stay silent, and I respected his choice. I didn't have much to say as I prepare for my upcoming meeting.

Harry closes the Palace doors behind me, the two of us taking a few steps towards the meeting hall. Harry takes a breath, “Good luck, Anastasia,” Harry softly smiles.

“You’re losing your voice,” I sigh, feeling sympathetic. He nods his head and gives me a small smile before opening the double doors to the meeting room, forcing me to take a stride and step into the lion's den. My Father and a few members rise, all glaring at me as I swallow hard. Oh, Fuck.

As the heavy doors close behind me, I turn around, bleakly hoping Harry opens the doors and saves me from this mess, but I know better. I turn back towards the crowd and I am greeted with a chilly reception and hostile glares. "I believe a curtsy is in order," I suggest, noticing the lack of polite greetings. I refuse to be intimidated by their political positions. Deep down, I want to crawl into a hole and never return to see the daylight with them again.

My father lets out a sigh and gestures towards the members, "She's correct, please curtsy."

The members of parliament comply with my father's request, but it's evident that their actions are not out of respect for me.

The Prime Minister speaks up, "Does she have to be here? You can’t trust everybody.”

"I have to ask, do you need to be here?" I inquire. "I understand that the king values his relationship with the Prime Minister due to constitutional reasons, but to me, your presence isn't necessary or important, Pippa."

"Anastasia," my father interjects.

"I mean, the king has the right to appoint and meet with the Prime Minister on Thursdays, but today isn't Thursday. So, I don't see why you need to be here," I explain.

Pippa chuckles and shakes her head, leaning against my father's desk. "Come on, you two, let's not argue," my father intervenes. "I called this meeting to discuss some political views that have been brought to my attention."

I furrow my brow and cross my arms, showing disinterest in discussing political matters in this particular setting. "As a constitutional monarch, Her Majesty must remain politically neutral. I won't be participating."

"Anna, this is a good opportunity for you to learn about these political issues and the people involved," someone, whom I do not know his name, insists.

"She isn't Her Majesty. I don't believe she should be present," Pippa interjects, wanting me out of the meeting. She wants me exiled for some reason. It’s evident. “She’s irrelevant.”

I shake my head, "I hold a higher title than you," I remind her.

My Father sighs, "Anna, you will become Queen and will need to attend these meetings with parliament officials. You need to be able to virulently support your government and speak with them."

"I cannot speak on political matters, but as Queen, my Prime Minister will handle the political arena. Pippa will not be my prime minister during my reign whenever that may be."

I’d rather lay down on a bed of nails then to have Pippa as my right hand and prime minister.

"Oh, you haven't informed her yet?" Pippa grins. "My dear child, I'm contracted in. You're stuck with me if you ever become Queen. I'd hate to see that day. If only the succession to the monarchy wasn’t altered, huh?"

I turn to my father and raise an eyebrow, unsure how the current Prime Minister can remain in office if the crown is passed on to me.

“What do you mean by the monarchy being altered?” I instantly question. “I will clear the seats, and order new parliament officials. It’s a strategic dissolution I will start-.”

My father cuts me off and changes the topic. "Our discussion topic is Assenting to Bills passed by Parliament, on the advice of Ministers. Please take a seat and listen," my father gestures to the long table, inviting me to sit down. I reluctantly take a seat across from Pippa, who seems to be opposed to my inheritance of the crown, just as I am opposed to her serving as my Prime Minister due to her condescending demeanour.

I have yet to understand why my father is determined to pass down the crown to me so suddenly without a clear reason. The household staff has their theories, one of which is that he wants to relinquish his royal duties to me. However, I do not believe this to be the case. I am certain there must be a solid foundation for his decision, as only one British monarch has ever willingly abdicated the throne. My father is unlikely to do the same unless there is a compelling reason. He may grant me the title of Princess Regent, enabling me to perform his official duties, while he retains his title as His Majesty the King. However, there are several possible reasons why he may choose to pass down the crown and force me to marry a prince, such as wanting to see me fail as Queen or simply having other motives.

There is one rumor swirling that he is stepping down because he has a mistress and he doesn’t want it to be leaked to the public.

Then there’s Political Pressure: There are whispers of political pressure or scandal brewing behind the scenes, leading the king to abdicate in order to avoid potential fallout or controversy. This rumour is the most compelling so far, I’m not sure what scandal could be brewing, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

And my most favourite and least convincing rumor is the desire for Modernization: Some may suggest that the king is embracing a more progressive approach to monarchy, viewing me as better suited to usher in much-needed reforms and modernization efforts. I call bullshit, the man is determined to follow every old age rule in the fucking book.

Each of these rumors adds layers of intrigue and complexity to the unknown, fueling speculation and uncertainty about the king's next power move.

After the meeting ends, I bid everyone goodbye and feel relieved that it's finally over. As I stand up, my father's voice startles me. "You should learn to behave more like a Queen," he advises.

"But I don't aspire to become a Queen. I don't want to deal with the criticism and scrutiny," I reply.

"You don't have a choice," he responds firmly.

“And that’s just the fucking problem. This monarch is controlling my life. It’s one thing to force me to be Queen without a say, but it’s another to force me to be with a Prince and lay my life down for all the members of parliament and this kingdom.”

My father's jaw clenches and his eyes narrow down on me, “This is part of your legacy. I’ve built this monarch from the ground up, I’m not letting it fall.”

“And I’ll tear it down to the bottom if you force this upon me.”

“Don’t you fucking dare threaten that,” my father raises his voice, “Do not become a monstrosity to this monarch, to this family.” He yells, shaking his head and stepping away from me. “I am not the villain in this story like you portray me to be.”

I shake my head, “I don’t portray you to be the villain, you do that yourself. You’re sounding like your brother.”

“Leave. I have to speak to security,” he mutters, pointing to the doors.

I obey my orders and proceed towards the doors, pushing them open and slamming them shut behind me. I spot Harry approaching and greet him with a smile, but he struggles to reciprocate. His eyes are tired and dark, suggesting he hasn't slept in a while. I then hear my father calling my name, causing me to let out a deep sigh.

“I’m never going to hear the fucking end. He’s in a bad mood by the way,” I inform Harry and he nods.

As I approach the imposing doors, their weight matches the heaviness weighing upon my heart and mind. Each creak of the hinges echoes the burden I carry and the screams I hide, a tangible reminder of the weight of the world resting upon me.

With a heavy sigh, I glance at Harry, his expression mirroring the solemnity of the moment. There's a fleeting exchange of understanding between us, unspoken words hanging in the air like a glass veil of silence. He longs to offer comfort, to ease the weight of my worries, but he knows the limitations of his role, the boundaries that separate us as Princess and security.

I push the heavy doors open, wishing it was as easy to push these emotions as it is to push these doors open aggressively.

“You know what? I’m stripping you of your title if you can’t take things seriously.”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug and lean against the wall, “You’d be doing me a favour.”

I don’t want to gradually go down the rabbit hole of self-destruction because of a monarch who relies on me when I’m not even Queen— we all know I don’t want this.

As much as I desire to relish in the thought of being stripped of my title and not under the thumb of the royal family and monarch, I know he won’t do it. I’m the only person to take over this monarch. There’s nobody besides me unless we get down to the nitty-gritty and find a long-lost cousin. Almost every living English citizen is somehow a descendant of an early monarch.

“The king has no legal authority to alter the succession to the throne. That would require an Act of Parliament.”

“We will see about that Act of Parliament. Been done before,” the king sneers.

“And unless there's a secret love child, I’m the only one who is eligible for the crown,” I remind my father of how this is meant to work. “Harry, don’t you think my Father is being a dick by threatening to take away the title to the only person who can take over the damn monarchy?”

Harry shakes his head, glaring towards me disapprovingly, "I don't think we should discuss this. He does have a say in my wage,” Harry voices his opinion with a raspy tone, still struggling to speak.

“Smart man,” the king comments, “Harry, I need you to extend your shift and end at three in the morning, I have a few things I need you to do.”

“Sir, I can’t,” Harry breathes out, “Matthew just took me off all services.” He’s struggling with every word he forces out.

My father isn’t pleased, but he surprisingly doesn’t seem mad, which is odd. “Can you use the last of your words to tell me when you planned to tell me you’re fucking my daughter?”

I widen my eyes and swallow hard, blinking back and forth between the two men standing before me. Despite the tense moment and sudden surprise, I can't help but let out a chuckle, which earns me glares from both of them. Fuck.

With a straight face, Harry responds, “Your Highness, I’m not fucking your daughter.”

A bold move to lie to the King of England.

“Father,” I begin, “it is not nice to accuse someone of such an act when they can’t fully defend themselves, he can barely speak.” I can’t conceal the smirk on my face. This is entertaining.

“I want to talk to you both about letters patent.”

“Do these letters patent involve abolishing the monarchy?” I question with a grin, causing my father to side-eye me. “Because I do not want to deal with Pippa as a prime minister.”

“How do you deal with her?” He asks Harry.

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, “I’m not sure,” he responds with a slight smile, “A lot of patience.”

“At least you have the patience,” the king mutters. “We can’t abolish. You know how it works. It would take legislation, an act of Parliament, and signed by the Sovereign to end the monarchy. We are not abolishing what so many past royals have worked for.” … “You will take the throne.”

“We are one of the eighth-longest monarchies in the world, it’s time to give it a rest. Let it go.”

“Anna, hear him out,” Harry grasps my attention, gesturing to my father.

I glare at Harry and cross my arms over my chest as I lean on my father's desk, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, fuck,” Harry mutters, looking down before looking back towards my Father, “May I leave? Why am I here?”

My Father chuckles, “Scared?”

Harry shakes his head, “I don’t like dealing with her when she is on a warpath and I just pissed her off,” Harry comments, “As you can see, she is glaring at me as if she would like to kill me.”

He has a valid point. Perhaps he isn’t as stupid as his last comments painted him to be.

My Father chuckles before recomposing himself. “Do you know what letters patent are?”

“Yes, gives a person an exclusive right, privilege, title, or office,” Harry nods, “What does this have to do with me?”

“It doesn’t,” I bitterly interject, not amused with Harry or my father appearing to team up against me. “Are there any other fun facts about these letters you’d like to contribute, Harry?”

“They were written in Latin until 1733,” Harry responds with a dry voice, “I might just be part of a security team but I am well educated, Your Highness,” Harry looks towards me, causing me to bite the side of my cheek and stare at him. I can’t tell if I’m pissed off with his comments or mildly turned on. “Is there anything you’d like to add?”

“Grants of land or rights from the monarch to a private individual were made by letters patent. Which means unless someone is granting me the right to leave this fucking monarch, I believe this conversation is over.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “I’m still not sure what I have to do with this, sir.” Looking back towards the King.

“The bloodline ends with Anastasia, if anything happens to her, the Monarchy crumbles, there are letters patent that pertain to you both,” My father looks towards Harry.

“If the bloodline ends with me, kill me now so we can end it.” I mutter, pushing off the desk and walking around Harry, tapping on his shoulder, “Will you, dear sir, put me out of my misery?”

Harry rolls his eyes, “We are going to get anywhere with this conversation.” Harry gestures towards me.

My father hums, “She’s too high-strung for me to handle right now.” My father shakes his head as he sighs, “Anna, letters patent show that you have to get married before taking the crown, if you don’t, the monarchy is at risk of falling into the hands of the wrong people.” … “It doesn’t matter to whom, you have to be married otherwise it crumbles.”

“Who are these people?” I ask. I’m genuinely curious, maybe they should have the monarchy.

“It’s not for you to worry about. You are the last remaining heir, for the monarchy to stay in safekeeping, you need to rule with a King.”

I shake my head. “I do not want this.” …. “Please, just abolish it.”

“You can both go,” my father sighs, “I’ll discuss more with you later, Harry,” my father dismisses us.

Harry and I leave the room, and I feel anxious as my heart beats fast. I follow him down a long hallway, my heels clicking on the marble tiles. I’m pissed, I’m anxious and I’m confused all in one.

As Harry pulls me into a hidden door, a rush of excitement courses through me, mingled with a hint of apprehension. The passage is dimly lit, the flickering lights casting dancing shadows along the stone walls. The air is cool and musty, carrying with it the scent of age and secrecy. I don’t use the secret doors very often, when I do, it’s usually with Harry.

The narrow corridor winds its way through the entirety of the palace, its walls adorned with faded tapestries and ancient portraits, their eyes following our every move with silent curiosity. At night, it’s creepy and unsettling, during the day, it isn’t too bad.

The stone floor is worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, its eerie to know that many people have walked these hidden paths.

The air feels dense, suffocating almost, as Harry sighs, the sound echoing in the heavy silence between us. His fingers run through his hair in an agitated gesture, and I can sense the weight of his gaze on me, heavy and stressed.

As the moments pass, the weight of our unspoken truths threatens to crush me, the heaviness of the mood between us becoming unbearable. But still, I can't bring myself to speak, to acknowledge the elephant in the room that looms over us like a specter.

In the quiet intensity of our shared gaze, I can't help but wonder if our unspoken desires will forever remain just that—unspoken. I love him, and I want nothing more than to be with him in blissful harmony.

In the stillness that envelops us, I feel the unspoken love for him pressing against my chest walls, threatening to burst forth like a dammed river begging for release. His presence fills me with a warmth that defies the chill of the heavy world around me in a constant battle, and in these moments, I realize that I want nothing more than to weave our lives together in a beautiful tapestry of shared dreams, whispered promises and unconditional love that is never questioned nor chased.

Yet, I hesitate to speak the words that linger on the tip of my tongue, afraid of the convergences that comes with laying bare my heart's deepest desires. Instead, I find solace in the quiet intensity of our shared gaze, silently hoping that he can sense the longing that pulses beneath my surface.

I try to lighten the mood by chuckling and saying, "Looks like the secret's out." However, Harry continues to glare at me, and I don't understand why.

“He knows. Letters patent?”

“He doesn’t,” I respond, “He is testing you and you passed. If you’re that scared we can always run away to Greece.”

I’ll run away anywhere with him, to the end of the world if it means being happy and in solitude.

“I’m not amused. I would like to know what letters patent have to do with me.”

I'd like to say he’s trying to logically process what I’m saying. There's a small part of me that wants to tell him I’m not joking, but we can't just run off together and fall off the grid. My father would have everyone looking for us and would presumably attempt to kill Harry with his bare hands for running off with me.

Would we manage to live life together by the rules of the monarch?

“I-I,” I begin, struggling to find the words. I truly don’t know what Harry has to do with letters patent. “I don’t know,” I sigh. “I don’t have the answers when it comes to this life.”

“Do you not think we should find out?” Harry asks.

I shake my head. Ignorance is bliss. Right now, I need bliss.

***

The warm breeze whistles through my hair and the sound of the water hitting the banks of the lake becomes music to my ears. The Lake at Buckingham Palace is a large man-made lake located in the gardens of Buckingham Palace. It was created in the early 17th century as part of the gardens of the palace and is a place I don’t settle at often. It’s hard to take in the beautiful scenery with it being open to the public on most summer days. Today, it has finally been closed to the public, giving me a sweet sentiment.

It has been a while since I have had the opportunity to stand by the lake without a care in the world, and without having to look over my shoulder to make sure nobody is taking pictures. For the first time in quite a long time, I have a sense of being normal. The grass nestles between my toes, I take a deep breath of the fresh air as I tilt my head to the side and glance over at Harry who has belatedly joined me after he left me earlier today after our letters parent discussion with the King.

A smile spreads across his pink lips and he stares at me with awe in his eyes.

Harry takes my hand and we wander closer to the water's edge. I let out a heavy breath, more so relieved and belatedly, happy. "I'd give anything to be able to feel like this more."

"Feel like what?" Harry questions, glancing around as an arm subtly drapes around my waist.

I grin to myself, taking note of the birds soaring high over the water, "Like a bird," I chuckle to myself, well aware my description is not ordinary, then again, I'm not ordinary either, "Free and happy," I respond. "There's no restraints, no duties, no photographers, and I didn't have any security until now, I could run into the lake with my clothes on and nobody would give a damn," I gladly smile.

“Well, you were supposed to have security,” Harry coughs, and I shrug my shoulders. Harry smirks and lets go of my hand, "Well, go on." Harry gestures towards the water, "By all means, enter the water with your clothes on, be a bird."

I shake my head, "Harry, join me."

Harry shakes his head, "Not a chance in hell, love. I’m already sick, not making it worse." Harry chuckles, “You’re the only crazy one who would happily jump in.”

I shrug my shoulders as I look down at the water. "Do you think I could've been a bird?"

"Oh, god. No. Don't—" Harry begins with a heavy sigh.

"Say it! Say I'm a bird," I insist, well aware of what I'm doing.

Harry brings his bottom lip between his teeth and he glances around.

"Anastasia, I’m losing my voice."

"Say I'm a bird!"

"That would mean admitting I've watched a romantic movie." Harry shakes his head, watching me as I move away from him with a smile.

I spin around, allowing my flowy white dress to dance around me. I glance over my shoulder and see Harry shuffling closer, his hands now in his pockets.

My feet dance at the edge of the bank, thoroughly relishing the freedom, "Tell me."

"Tell you, what?" Harry questions, stepping closer to me. “That you’re about to fall in?”

"Quote my favourite movie."

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, "I'd never do such a thing."

I gasp, stepping away from him with a laugh escaping my lips, "Anna," Harry laughs, reaching out and wrapping his hand around my wrist, causing me to laugh louder as I playfully attempt to pull away from him. Harry tenderly tugs on me and forces me to face him, "If you're a bird, I'm a bird," Harry recites the line and I draw my hair away from my face, still giggling like a schoolgirl. I beam at Harry and he smiles back at me, his eyes bright and full of more love than I could ever imagine. "If you're a bird, I'm a bird. Anastasia,” his voice is raspy but he continues, “I'll be anything you need me to be, and I'll go anywhere I need to go. I'd walk to the end of the earth if it meant being with you."

My heart pounds in my chest like a wild drum, the rhythm echoing against my body. Before I can even comprehend the words forming on my lips, they tumble out in a rush, spurred on by the raw intensity of my emotions.

"Then marry me," I blurt out, the words hanging in the air between us, my deepest desires no longer containing themselves inside me. I've laid bare the very essence of my soul for him to see— something I thought I’d never do— something I had no intentions to do, it just happened.

Despite the unknown and being scared of what I have just opened, I know with absolute certainty that I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my days by his side, bound together in a union of love. My father did mention earlier it didn’t matter who I married, as long as I married before the crown reached me.

I hold my breath, waiting his response, my heart still racing. And in the quiet depths of his gaze, I find myself hoping against hope that he will say yes, that he will choose me, every day, every time, against all odds, it’ll be me. Selfishly, I want it to be me and him in the end, no matter whether this monarchy is standing or not.

Harry blinks at me a few times, seemingly shocked by the request and sudden statement. “Anna, I-I can’t,” Harry shakes his head and I pull away from him. “No, wait,” he breathes, reaching out for my hand but I retract it from him and begin to walk away.

I pinned my heart to my sleeve for a brief moment and became overwashed with nothing but a bitter rejection that I’d have rather ignored. I feel utterly stupid and ashamed.

I feel his fingers wrap around my arm and gently stop me from moving forward. I spin around and press my hands to his chest, pushing him away. “Anna, hear me out.”

He’s relentless.

I shake my head. I don’t want to hear him out.“What? What could you possibly say? You’ve said all I’ve needed to hear.”

Harry takes a deep breath, biting his lip before speaking.“If I marry you, it changes the entire system of this monarch, it changes everything, are you aware?”

“I asked a simple question between me and you. Not a question between me, you and the monarchy.” I respond.

Harry sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly while his phone begins to ring, he glances down at the caller ID, “Can we finish this later?”

“No,” I shake my head, walking away from him while he answers his phone call.

Wearing my heart on my sleeve and allowing myself to let my guard down is something I wish I had never done. I never expected to fall in love with Harry, I never expected us to get to the point of being this serious. At one point, I thought it was just a summer fling, but now here I am, wearing my heart on my sleeve and asking him to marry me. I am insane.

#harry styles imagines #one direction imagines #imagine one direction #harry styles fanfic #imagine harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #one direction fanfic #anonymous #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfictions #one direction fanfiction #fanfics #harry styles #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic rec

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elemit · 5 months

Text

A Gift, A Curse

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the spawn you loved.

Read in full on AO3

dead dove/not beta read

fic warnings: Abuse, Angst, Biting, Blood and Gore, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Food Restriction, Hate Sex, Horror, Mental Coercion, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Torture, Total Power Exchange, Trauma, Vampire Bites

Chapter 11: Awakening

He is still trancing when you wake up. You are entirely enveloped by him: his arms wrapped around you, his thigh draped over your legs, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. Between your thighs, the stickiness of his seed tells you that he continued to take his pleasure from you after you passed out.

The thick curtains block out any light from the room, so you carefully extract yourself from his embrace and go to light one of the candles on your bedside. You've had little need for magic since you turned - most of your days have been spent driven to distraction by hunger pains - so it's only now that you realise with a sense foreboding that your magic does not come easily. Even producing a tiny flame to light a candle takes a force of will that you almost find yourself lacking, drained as you are. Still, although it flickers and wavers in a nonexistent breeze, you manage to hold the cantrip long enough to light the candle closest to you before falling back onto your pillows, inexplicably exhausted.

In the soft golden light, you take in Astarion's resting face. Lily white skin so soft and smooth that kissing it feels like a dream. Voluptuous lips partly parted in his repose. Long elfin ears, finely pointed and tinged pink like a blushing rose. A jaw that dances on the edge of strong and delicate.

You had thought that the ritual had aged him, but you see now that his face still possesses the unmarred youthfulness that you have always known. Rather, it is the near-constant half frown, the slight curl of the lip, the sneer that now so often graces his beautiful features that seem to age him. Here, unburdened by the thoughts of his walking self, he looks like the Astarion that you thought he was. The Astarion you fell in love with.

For a moment you are spellbound by his visage, and by the memories that replay themselves in your mind as you try to convince yourself that that man - the sweet, kind, gentle man - had not been imagined.

"I can feel you watching me, you know."

The voice starts you from your reverie. He doesn't open his eyes - barely moves his lips - but suddenly you can feel his awareness of you.

"What's going through that pretty little head of yours, hm?" he asks as he reaches for you, pulling you back into his grasp with his new irresistible strength. "Nothing bad, I hope."

"Nothing bad," you confirm, and he gives a content sigh as he presses his body against yours.

"Things are going to get better," he says, his eyes still closed. You don't respond. You just lay there, caged or cradled in his arms, wondering - worrying - what better means.

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #a gift a curse

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wri0thesley · 2 years

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me, coming down with some sort of illness: oh nooo I'm getting sick, I sure hope Il Dottore doesn't use my compromised state to finally act on his plans to take advantage of me, oh nooooo

anon, PLEASE . . . oh no . . .

cw: afab reader, not sfw, drugging, needles, dub con, non-con, yandere behaviour

consider; you are some kind of fatui underling. not necessarily one that is combat-versed and expected to lay down your life immediately if asked; instead, your scope is more in the domestic side of things. whilst dottore doesn't concern himself with such matters, that doesn't mean they are unimportant, so you do your job quietly and on the sidelines and try to stay out of the good doctor's way. you think that, perhaps, he doesn't notice you at all - and though you are of course devoted to your lord harbingers and the tsaritsa's will, the whispers that follow him are insidious, and you cannot help but be glad that his sharp masked gaze and too-sharp-toothed smile never falls on you.

until it does. because here is the problem with dottore; he is very easily distracted by his projects, single-minded ruthless pursuit of whatever goal he is working on. he is not usually a fan of subtlety; he does what he wants. and that you have escaped him so far is of no account when you do catch his attention. perhaps it's a cough, or a sneeze, or simply coming too close into his line of sight when he's doing something - no matter what it was that begun it, he's now utterly fixated.

you hide behind your work as a convenient excuse; you have things to do, lord dottore sir, you really must attend to them. you scurry away from him like a mouse - but in truth, you are merely a laboratory rat, and dottore is always watching. and when the illness strikes - when you find yourself feverish and fatigued and exhausted, not quite putting together that it happens most often when you have been near dottore - you can no longer deny him when he swoops in like a rescuing angel to bundle you off to a 'bedroom' for further tests and recuperation.

'ah,' he says; 'but what if it's contagious? we really ought to make sure that we do all that it is in our power to discover exactly what it is. we cannot risk the safety of anyone else, my dear!'. and who better to be in charge of such things - when he can get time away from his busy schedule - than a man who so many call doctor?

his tests are invasive. you try and protest, when gloved fingers dip underneath the fabric of your clothing - but dottore just clicks his tongue, rips it off, citing his need for easy access. cool hand against a fevered forehead, things pressed into your mouth with a glass of water and dottore's too-excited order of 'swallow those for me, now'. needle sliding into your arm. you're drifting constantly between being aware of your surroundings and unable to do anything about it, and sweet blessed unconsciousness.

dottore doesn't mind which it is, whilst he's getting to know your body more intimately. at first, if you wake up and there's an ache between your thighs and slick soaking into the thin mattress, you briefly think perhaps it's just a wet dream. but then you're drugged and still aware of everything going on, and that's markedly worse. worse to have dottore prop your knees apart and stroke your sex with those gloved fingers and murmur aloud about how wet you're getting for him - worse to feel his breath on you and not even be able to flinch away.

dottore will not be satisfied with so passive a toy for too long, though - there is only so much that can be gleaned from someone who cannot speak. so slowly, you are weaned off of the drugs - slowly, you're allowed to be more and more aware of what you're going through, and how exactly dottore has laid his claim on you. but every time you think you are strong enough, now, to fight back and go back to your duties or beg for assignation to some other harbinger--

he starts again. the fever. the aches. the pains. the inability to do anything--

"oh, dear," dottore will say to you, smiling, not even bothering to try and couch his pleasure in syrupy faux sympathy. "it appears we're no closer to determining the cause of your ill health. i suppose you'll have to stay quarantined here for even longer, then!" his hands stroke your face - once again, you are reminded of the disattached affection that a scientist may develop for a rat in a laboratory. "ah, don't worry so much. i won't rest until you're cured, you know! when i want to figure something out . . . i'm a very determined man."

you think that dottore has a very different idea of what 'cured' may look like.

#sorry anon my brain. it went brr #dottore x reader #yandere dotorre #i gues we'll even tag it lmao #genshin impact posting #medical for ts #yandere for ts #nat.txt #me putting tags on my genshin posts is like me trying to pss pss followers who want to scream with me btw #not sfw text

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kizzykiszka · 8 months

Text

|| GOD FORSAKE THE QUEEN ||

Warnings: violence, cursing, descriptions of war, and bloodshed. this is an adventure story in the middle of a war. this story will get violent and there will be injury. it's a little bit of an AU, so some personality traits may be exaggerated. sam is kind of a dick in this. sorry sammy girls. there will be some romance but its not the forefront of this. if you don't want to read about the guys getting injured -- please do not read this.

((if you like this, please let me know if you want to be tagged for future updates.))

summary:

"Up-and-coming rock band Greta van Fleet heads home, drained from their 2019 tour, yearning for a much-needed break. However, their world takes a dramatic turn when a celestial being, Mother, transports them to the war-torn realm of Eldoria. Here, a prophecy awaits them—to rescue the land from the clutches of the ruthless dictator, Seraphina, who usurped the throne with dark magic, stripping the land of its mystical essence and enslaving all who oppose her. In this perilous journey, the band members—Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny—discover a realm in chaos. The true king and his daughter have fallen victim to the dictator's cruelty, while the queen narrowly escaped, leading a small but resilient rebellion of survivors. Their valiant attempts to reclaim the kingdom have been met with dwindling numbers. Guided by the power of Mother and equipped with newfound abilities, the boys must plunge themselves into the heart of battle, their singular goal: to vanquish the tyrannical queen and at any cost, restore order and magic to Eldoria.

Chapter 1

____________________________________________

Summer.

Out in the middle of the California desert, there was a large sleeper bus traveling down the road in the bright afternoon light that blanketed the surrounding scenery. Traffic was average, given the time of day it was but the sleeper bus really stuck out like a sore thumb among the regular cars. It wasn’t atypical to see these types of buses on the road. Generally celebrities were inside, as it was the most common way for them to travel in private. Inside this particular bus was a group of celebrities, however they didn’t really see themselves as “famous”. They were Greta van Fleet. And they were heading home to Michigan from their last concert of the year.

Normally, the inside of the bus was filled with chatter while the boys drank and discussed their next venue they’d been performing at. Instead, the cabin was silent. Josh, lead singer, was laid down in the back of the bus in one of the beds -- passed out cold under a pile of blankets. His twin, Jake the guitarist, was perched up in the bed below him looking out the window at the passing cars while simultaneously bandaging up his calloused fingers. Sam, youngest brother and bassist, was in the common area at the table with a drink while he leafed through a book while their drummer Danny was sifting through his social media in a slumped over position in the couch opposite to the table that Sam was sitting at. They were all completely exhausted. Ever since the start of their tour, they hadn’t had a moment of time to just sit and relax. Now that they were heading home, where each of them knew they were definitely going to be exploiting this down time to the fullest extent.

Jake played hard this last show and his fingers were really sore now. It wasn’t uncommon for people who played string instruments to get callouses on their fingertips. Sam got them more often since he played bass with very thick strings that absolutely destroyed his fingers. Jake had unfortunately gone a little too crazy on this last show and this had broken open several of the already hardened blisters on the tips of his fingers. Reaching down to grab another BandAid, Jake frowns as he finds the box is totally empty. “Damn,” he thinks to himself, “I still have a whole other hand to do. There’s gotta be another box here...” Jake tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns around to pull back the privacy curtain that was around the bed and he steps out into the cramped hallway that led to the common area of the bus. From there, he heads over to the bathroom where he starts rummaging through the cabinet above the sink. No bandaids. Odd, but not uncommon. They did seem to go through a lot of those lately. He exits the bathroom and heads back down the hall towards the common area where his bandmates were seated.

“Any of you have any bandaids?” Jakes asked, “There’s none in the bathroom.” Sam lowers his book a bit to look at his older brother with a frown. “What did you do this time?” he asked, the words that left his mouth almost cold. “Nothing particularly bad.” Jake replied, ignoring his little brother’s rather obviously annoyed tone of voice as he held out his busted fingers, “... I think I might have overdone it at the last show. They’re bleeding this time.” Sam puts his book down with a groan and he slides out of the booth, “I think I have some in my bag. If not…” Sam glances out the window, “We might still have time to stop.” Outside, they were now much closer to the desert and the cacti seemed to whiz by in green blurs. Highway 40 was quite a ways away now and there wouldn’t be any way for them to get back. Sam pulls open the privacy blinds now and shakes his head at the passing scenery, “On second thought, I think we’re in the middle of nowhere now. Unless you feel like stopping at a tiny town on this road.”

“I wouldn’t mind stopping.” A voice piped up from behind the brothers, and they turned around to look at Danny who was now mid-stretch across the couch, “I think we’ve been in here for at least 6 hours now. Personally, I’d like to get out and stretch my legs. I’m gonna go bug the driver, see if we can pull off somewhere.”

Before Danny could push past his bandmates, a loud singular tak noise sounded above their heads. They all paused to look up. Another. Tak… tak…. Tic… Rain? “Aren’t we in the middle of the desert?” Jake questioned. It rarely rained out in the desert and outside the window, the sky seemed bright and clear. “Yeah,” Sam responded, “I’m gonna go see what’s going on. We should still be on the highway now that I think about it.” Sam walks past his bandmates and up towards the front of the vehicle where their driver was. He carefully knocks on the outer wall before pulling back the curtain to see the bus driver perched contently in the driver’s seat. Robert was his name. “Hey!” Robert greets the stoic bassist with a grin, “You guys doing okay back there?”

“For the most part yeah,” Sam replied, “Is there any reason why we left the highway?”

“Oh yeah! I’m real sorry about that kiddo. I probably should have mentioned this to ya’ll but I didn’t want to frighten you none. I had a check engine light come on so I’m headed towards Vegas now. Should be somewhere for us to stop and get the bus serviced.” Robert explained. “Check engine?” Sam asked, “Didn’t we just have this thing serviced before we left?”

“I got her gassed up, but no, not any servicing. It’s rare they give us any issues. Engines in these things are tanks,” Robert says, “Shouldn’t be a big issue. We should make it to Vegas here soon.”

“Alright. I’ll go let them know. Just… can you tell us next time before you just veer off the highway?” Sam said before disappearing back behind the curtain. He heads back into the common area where Danny was inspecting Jake’s fingers carefully with a roll of black electrical tape in hand. “Are we stopping?” Danny asked. Sam plops back down in the seat adjacent to the boys and grabs for the book he’d abandoned just moments ago, “Yeah. Apparently we’re making a pit stop in Vegas. Something’s up with the bus.” A look of alarm washes over the pair’s face, “A problem?” Jake asks, “Not serious is it?”

The rain was starting to pick up now. Heavy droplets were beating the roof of the bus relentlessly and the once bright afternoon light was now replaced with gloomy dark clouds overhead. Sam shrugs, “Hell if I know. I’m just ready to get home and not do anything for a few months so we better not be stopped for too long.” Jake rolls his eyes as Danny finishes up taping his fingers with a spare roll of electrical tape. It wasn’t much but it worked. “I’m just ready for some good family food,” Jake said, fanning his fingers, “And a break from being in the spotlight. It’s great but, I dunno… you ever find yourself missing the days when we were just a garage band?”

“Occasionally,” Danny replied, “It’s nice to be recognized though. And hey, we’re stopping in Las Vegas. They’re bound to have some good food we can grab before we leave.” Sam leaned back in his chair wordlessly and cracked open the novel he was reading once again. He was definitely in one of his moods again. Jake ignored his little brother once more and pulled out his phone to open up the maps application to browse their food options. They weren’t going to be able to go too many places. The bus was a behemoth and barely fit in any parking lots so wherever they went, it had to be somewhere within walking distance of the bus stop.

“I’d love to go to one of these casinos one day,” Jake murmured under his breath, “I think I might get stuck there.”

“Nah,” Danny snorts, “You’d find your sorry ass in a strip club one way or another.” Jake rolled his eyes with a playful huff, “Yeah, sure.”

The two continued looking over their options, trying to decide on a place that everyone could agree on when suddenly a low groaning noise echoed through the cabin ominously. The three all got very quiet and looked around in confusion. “That sounded like…” Danny started to speak but was interrupted by the sound of a small explosion in the back of the bus that was immediately followed by a loud hissing. They all looked to each other, as if looking for answers. Overhead, the bus lights flickered and the huge sleeper started to rumble deeply as it slowed to a stop on the side of the road. Sam tosses the book down on the table, “Damn him!” he exclaims, stomping up towards the front of the bus. He met Robert in the hallway, who had just come out from behind the partition. He looked very sweaty and anxious, “You said it was going to be fine!” Sam yells, “What the hell is going on?”

“Sam!” Danny barks, rushing up to the boy whom he pulls away from the driver, “Dude, chill. It’s nothing, okay? We’ll be just fine. Don’t get all up in his face like that.”

“He literally said 2 minutes ago that we’d be just fine!” Sam exclaims again, “So were we not okay?”

Robert holds his hands up defensively, “Look, I just got a check engine light 30 minutes ago.. I think the radiator’s done blown but I gotta go out and check. Excuse me, please.” The graying chubby man pushes past the two and out into the rain. Sam shakes his head in disbelief and goes to sit back down, folding his arms tightly over his chest. By now, the commotion had woken up the last brother who had tumbled out of the bunk bed he’d been hibernating in since the departure. Josh entered the common area, rubbing his eye with a yawn, “What’s everyone yelling for?” he asked, looking around the cabin with a frown, “Are we stopped?”

“Something’s wrong with the bus,” Jake replied, “It’s not a big deal though. I’m sure Robert will have it up and running here in a sec and we can limp it to Vegas like he said he would.” The lights flickered again above their heads. Josh takes a seat at the table across from Sam, who was fuming now and showing his displeasure by tapping his foot rapidly. Josh yawns again and nods, “Mmm, okay. Vegas sounds nice. I don’t think we’ve been there yet. Could we go to one of those uh…” he snaps his fingers, “... casino places? Always thought it would be fun to use one of those machines.” Josh was clearly still waking up. Once more, the lights flickered and then completely shut off, leaving the band in complete darkness. The sound of rain continued now, much louder now that the air conditioning was off. “That uh… that can’t be good.” Jake whispered.

“Alright fine,” Sam says suddenly as he shot up from his seat, “I will go check on the driver.” Sam disappears down the hall towards the front of the bus and down the stairs to the outside world. Josh rests his head on the table in front of him with a sigh, “Well, at least this’ll make for a fun story for when we get home,” he says, “Anyone able to text mom?”

Jake snorts, “I think every group has had their bus break down in a sketchy area before. Besides, Rob’s certified. Aaron made sure he was before he hired him. We’ll be running in a second.”

The bus door swings open and a very wet Sammy comes stomping up the stairs, soaking wet and with a frantic look on his face, “He’s gone.” he utters, sending a wave of panic through the boys. “Gone? What do you mean gone?!” Jake exclaims, turning around to look out the window. “It’s exactly what I said, Jake! He’s just gone.” Sam responds, reaching to grab his phone.

“Like, gone gone?”

“The back of the bus is open like he started working on it, but he’s not there. He’s not on the other side and he’s not in the desert. He’s just gone.”

Josh stands up now and folds his hands together, “So, do we… call the police?” Danny asked, “Should we go check and see if he’s gone?”

“I don’t know!” Sam replies frantically, “What if there’s someone or something out there?”

Danny holds up his hands, “Hang on, Sam. Let’s just take a deep breath. I’m sure our manager can’t be far from here. We can just call him and he’ll pick us up.”

“I’m not getting any signal,” Jake says as he drops his phone down, “I don’t understand. We had it just fine a second ago.” One by one, the boys take out their phones and try to dial out -- only to have the calls mysteriously drop. This only sends more panic through them. Sam runs his hands through his long hair and looks back at the door, “Someone’s gotta fix the bus. We’re just sitting ducks if there’s something out there. Danny, you know something about cars, don’t you?”

“You’re gonna feed me to the wolves?” Danny asked, “No, no absolutely not. If we’re going out there, I need a buddy. Rob just up and fucking disappeared, what if I do too??”

“Let’s all go together.”

All eyes now turn to Josh who was sitting with his hands clasped in front of his face. “We’re safer in numbers,” Josh continues, “If there is a threat.” The remaining three look around and nod, “Alright. I’ll go and see what I can do. Sam, if I can get this running again, you’re driving.” Josh gets up from his seat and the boys all file out into the rainy desert landscape. The first thing they noticed was the fact there was at least an inch or two of standing water at their feet where the sand normally was. It didn’t rain much in this part of the world, so it wasn’t uncommon for flooding to occur. The group carefully tip toes out in the rain to the other side of the bus where they see the metal grate covering the engine flipped up, smoke pouring out of the engine bay.

Rob was nowhere in sight.

A chill ran down Josh’s spine. He didn’t like this. Danny approaches the engine and Sam follows from the side with the flashlight from his phone while Jake and Josh stand watch. “It’s the radiator!” Danny called through the rain, “We need some water or something! A big jug!”

“We don’t have a big jug of water.” Sam replied, “We have water bottles! And water on the ground!”

They were genuinely afraid now. Someone had to go back to the bus to get the water bottles from the bus and leave the other two outside. Nobody wanted to move. “Jake, go with Sam to the bus. Get as many water bottles as you can!” Danny calls, “We gotta get this bus going again!”

“What about Rob?!” Jake called back, “We’re just gonna leave him?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there! We can’t be in this storm!” Danny called once more. The wind was picking up now. Josh’s eyes were focused out to the middle of the desert, trying to see if he could make out human shaped silhouettes out in the distance. There was nothing though. Just blackness. This storm didn’t feel right. It was violent and sudden, almost like it was planned to make them stranded. The desert didn’t have rain like this, did it? Suddenly, something caught his eye. A small sliver of light flashed out in the distance. It looked almost like lightning, but it held its shape in one spot. It started to grow in length, and then it split open with a loud crack that sounded loudly across the arid land.

“Are you guys seeing this shit?!” Josh hollered as a bright white light blanketed the surrounding cacti and road. Stunned, the boys watched in awe as a woman slowly slipped out of this crack in the sky. She was enormous and almost opaque in color. Her body was twice the size of any high rise building and she emitted this ethereal white light that was blindingly beautiful. Upon her body was a simple robe that was draped across her loosely, and atop her head was an ornate crown of golden leaves while her hair was neatly braided. Her eyes were without pupils, but just blinding white light.

The rain stopped. The droplets were suspended in the air now while it continued to pour outside of the orb they were trapped in.

“Welcome, saviors.” The woman boomed, “We have been waiting for you.”

Again, they exchanged looks. “Waiting for us?” Josh questioned, “Who are you?” The ethereal woman smiles warmly, “I am Mother. I have been watching you four since the day of your birth. You are destined to save the world. Our world.” She outstretches a hand from underneath the robes and points forward with two fingers. A glowing light emits from her fingertips. She draws a circle out of the glowing light while her other hand reaches down toward the boys. A soft warm yellow glow envelopes each boy in an aura and one by one, they begin to levitate upwards. “Save the world?!” Sam hollers now, “We’re just a band! Just normal people!! What are you doing?? Put us down!” But Mother ignored his pleas. Jake was far too stunned to say anything and Danny was pale with fear and shock.

Josh runs his hands through his hair furiously, “This has got to be some kind of crazy fever dream. I only see this in my dreams! What are you going to do with us? What do you mean saviors?”

The woman had drawn a circle in the air, and filled it with symbols that Josh didn’t understand. “I’m afraid I can’t answer any questions, puer meus.” Mother says, “All will be answered with time. But we must hurry. There isn’t much time now.” Mother opens her palm, pushing the circle and it’s odd symbols forward. It turns yellow and begins to glow rather brightly. “Duc nos domum.” Mother uttered these words, and a bright blinding light filled the sky in response.

Then, there was nothing.

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