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0cta9on · 3 months

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Unlikely Duet - 5

length: +5k words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader (OC)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Yuno’s POV

The light patter of the rain was a reminder of how this all started. A chance encounter, a gut feeling, a gesture of kindness, all of these different choices were woven into the fabric of fate and led me here - eating dinner with Minji and her rich (and terrifying) parents. No matter how I twisted it, this is not at all how I thought I would spend my friday.

“The rain is getting bad out there. I’m so glad we caught you before you went out in the rain, we would hate for a friend of Minji’s to get sick,” Minji’s mom remarked, her warm, motherly smile concealing something that set off alarms in my head. I kept my guard up, no matter what.

Minji sat next to me, a worried expression painted on her face. She hasn’t said anything since discovering the blood stain on my sleeve from my altercation with Tyler. I wanted to say something to her, anything, but it was impossible in this tense atmosphere. The guilt of not being able to tell her the truth was eating me up inside.

“Dinner is served. Eat as much as you like, dear,” Ms. Kim says, gesturing to the food she had set on the table. An array of different side dishes I had never seen before surrounded a large roasted fish adorned with sauce and vegetables. My stomach grumbled at the sight. It was more food than I had ever seen in my entire life, and it didn’t help that I was also starving from not eating anything the entire day. Without thinking, I quickly grabbed a little bit of everything and piled it onto my plate. Right as I was about to dig in, I noticed the shocked expressions of Minji’s parents.

“S-sorry… I-I’m hungry,” I stuttered sheepishly, earning a small chuckle from Minji. I felt the heat cover my face as her parents got their food, taking much smaller portions than I had. Right as I pick up the spoon to my lips, Mr. Kim clears his throat.

“So, Yuno,” he begins, focusing his gaze on me. “How long have you been friends with our daughter? Minji never mentioned you before.”

Regretfully, I place down my spoon as I think of an appropriate response. “Uhh, we’ve been friends for…” I turn to look at Minji, hoping to find an answer, but her eyes are glued to her plate as if she’s lost in thought. “Three days. We’ve been friends for three days.”

Mr. Kim’s eyebrow rises slightly in surprise. “Really? And how did you two end up meeting?”

I gulped, my mind going back to the circumstances of our first meeting. Sure, I’ll tell one of my only friend’s parents that I met her in the detention room after beating someone up to the point of hospitalization. They’ll totally love me after that, right? Thankfully, I have an easy out due to Minji’s lie from earlier.

“We got partnered together for science class,” I state, trying my best to sound confident. Mr. Kim narrows his eyes as he studies my expression. I stare back, not wanting to show weakness in front of him.

“What do your parents do for work?” he asks. The questions were starting to feel a bit too personal, but I would rather not risk going against him.

“My dad works the night shift as a security guard,” I responded. Despite seeing him passed out drunk everyday, he somehow managed to maintain his job all these years. Either that or he never bothered to tell me he got fired.

“And your mom?”

“She’s, uhh…” I glance at Minji for a brief moment, hesitating to answer. “She’s dead.” The room falls silent as each member of the Kim family looks back at me with a mix of shock and sympathy on their faces.

“I-I’m sorry to hear that, dear,” Ms. Kim says, her intimidating demeanor replaced with genuine compassion.

I shrug in response. “It’s fine, it was a couple years ago. I’m okay now.” I stare down at my plate, unable to look any of them in the eye. Truthfully, I was never completely okay with my mother’s death, but what was I supposed to do? Cry in front of them?

Mr. Kim opens his mouth to say something, but his wife stops him. “Honey, you should let him eat,” she says in a stern tone. Mr. Kim relented, and a sense of relief washed over me as I was silently grateful for her intervention. Not only was the onslaught of questions exhausting to face, but I was also still hungry. The rest of the dinner was spent in silence, aside from the clinking of silverware against porcelain and the rhythmic downpour outside.

______________________________________________________________

I lean back in my chair, completely stuffed. Every single bite of food had more flavor than I’ve ever had in my entire lifetime. As intimidating as Minji’s parents were, they were also amazing cooks. I peer outside and notice that the rain had stopped. Taking my chance, I stand up and excuse myself from the table.

“Thank you for the meal, but I should really get going now.” Before they had a chance to respond, I swiftly exit the room, grabbing my backpack. Right as I reach the front door, Minji’s voice calls out to me.

“Wait!” she exclaims, trailing after me. “I’ll walk you home.” I give her a confused look as she turns to her parents. “It’ll give us a chance to talk about the project some more. Just like you say, every second counts.”

Mr. Kim contemplates for a moment before nodding. “Alright then. Be careful, and don’t be out too late. Your mother and I want to talk to you once you get back.”

Minji follows me outside and shuts the door behind us, releasing a long sigh as she leans against the wall. “That was soooooooooo stressful. I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Yuno.”

I chuckle lightly, joining her on the wall. “It’s alright. I’ve survived worse.” We stood together in silence for a while, the chilly evening air gracing our faces, infused with the lingering scent of rain. Minji is the first to break the silence as she turns to me, a look of sadness in her eyes.

“I’m sorry about your mom. I had no idea she was…” Her voice trailed off as she avoided saying “the word”.

“It’s okay, Minji. Really.” I give her a reassuring look as we both head start walking towards my house, the gentle moonlight guiding our path.

“She died in a hospital fire three years ago,” I began, my voice carrying the weight of the past. Minji looks up at me, listening intently. “She was a nurse. Very caring and loved helping people. Even as the building was burning all around her, she spent the last moments of her life helping people.” I fall quiet as my gaze falls to the ground in contemplation.

“Yuno…” Minji reaches out and pats my shoulder reassuringly. “I’m so sorry.”

My legs freeze in place as I turn to look at her. The chorus of chirping crickets and the subtle howl of the evening wind created a backdrop as I met Minji's saddened eyes. What was she apologizing for? The fire wasn’t her fault. It was an act of fate, a cruel twist beyond anyone’s control. Some higher power up there decided that my mother’s life would be cut short, whether I liked it or not. There was nothing I could do about it.

“Minji…” I call out her name as I unravel my sleeve, revealing the blood stain. “I got into another fight. Tyler McGraw.” I did my best to keep a straight face, but my heart was thumping with anxiety. “He was beating up a freshm… He was beating up my friend. I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry.”

Fate has a sick and twisted way of working. It brings people together, and tears people apart. Any single one of us could drop dead without a single warning if it willed it. Our entire lives we spend making decisions that we think will matter in the end, but at the snap of a finger, all those efforts could be in vain. Yet, here I stood, disclosing my vulnerabilities to the person I expected the least. Whether this is a blessing or a curse is yet to be seen, and I’ll be damned if I don’t see this until the end.

Minji’s expression shifted from sadness to disappointment to confusion as her mind processed the information. I could do nothing but stand there, vulnerable and exposed as I awaited her response.

She lets out a heavy sigh. “How is your friend?” she asks, her gaze fixated on the ground. Her disappointed tone felt like a knife stabbing through my heart.

“He’s okay, I think. Your friend with the glasses helped us out.”

“Danielle?” she says, looking up at me with a surprised look before clearing her throat. “Well, that’s good. What about Tyler?”

I scratched my head, averting my gaze as I searched for the right words. “He’s uhhh… He’ll be out for a few days. Maybe a week. Or two,” I admitted sheepishly. Minji pinched the bridge of her nose as I stood there like a child who was caught red handed.

“You were just… protecting your friend. I’m not gonna fault you for that,” she says, pushing past me. I was left in shock at her unexpected understanding. “What are you standing around for? I said I’d walk you home. Come on.”

I pick my jaw up off the ground and catch up to her, leading the way to my house. We spend the rest of the walk in silence, tension hanging in the air. I stole a couple glances at her, but I couldn’t read her expression at all. Is she mad? Disappointed? All of the above? Before I knew it, we were face to face with my front door.

“This is my house,” I say bluntly.

“Okay. Bye,” Minji says with an unusual coldness, turning to leave.

“W-wait,” I stammer, calling out to her.

She turns around, her expression blank and unreadable. “What?”

“Are we… still friends?” I cringed, feeling a pang of embarrassment at the vulnerability of the question. Minji chuckles in response, a genuine smile gracing her face for the first time in a while.

“Yes, we’re still friends, silly.” The tension in the air dissipated and my heart felt as light as a feather as a sigh of relief escapes my lips. “You’re a good person, Yuno. I just wish you would stop getting into trouble.”

“Cool. Um, good night, Minji.” I wave awkwardly at her as she leaves. “U-uh, get home safe!”

Minji giggles, the sweet sound of her voice echoing through the air. “Good night, Yuno!” Her smile imprinted itself into my brain as I watched her silhouette fade into the night.

I’m greeted by the dark and desolate state of my living room as I enter my house, but all of it fades away as an unfamiliar feeling of elation stirs in my chest. I trudged to my bedroom and collapsed onto my bed, the events of the evening taking their toll on me. Meeting Minji’s parents was exhausting, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy that she considered me as a friend. As my eyelids slowly flutter shut, visions of Minji flashed through my head, invading my dreams.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

As I walk through the door, I see my parents sitting on the couch waiting for me. I gulp as a steady tension fills the air.

“Minji. Have a seat dear, your father and I want to talk to you,” my mom says in a serious tone. A thousand thoughts fill my mind as I wonder what they could possibly want to talk about.

My dad clears his throat, his eyes meeting mine. “This Yuno boy… We don’t want you hanging around him.”

I felt my heart drop in my chest. “W-what? Why?”

“He seems… sweet, but we don’t think he’ll be of any benefit to you in the future,” my mom explains. “Once you two are done with your science project, we want you to cut all contact with him.”

A mix of anger, confusion, and sorrow welled within me. “B-but-”

“No buts, Minji. You should be grateful that we still let you talk to Hanni,” my dad interrupts. “If you want to be successful in life, you must surround yourself with those that are like minded. Frankly, I don’t see that boy amounting to anything.”

I tried to argue, but my voice got caught in my throat. It would have been pointless anyways since they never listened. Without another word, I stormed upstairs to my room.

“Minji!” I ignored my father’s calls as I slammed my bedroom door behind me before collapsing onto my bed. Why were they always like this? Why couldn’t I just be friends with anyone? Tears welled in my eyes as I pulled out my phone, calling Hanni. After just one ring, she picks up.

“Hey girl, looks like you got your phone back, I wonder who gave it to you,” she answered, giggling.

“Hi Hanni…”

“Oh no, what happened?” she asked, her tone shifting as she noticed the sadness in mine.

“I’m just so… frustrated with my parents. It hasn’t even been a full day since they’ve been back, yet I’m already so exhausted.” I snuggled with my bear plush, hoping it would make all my problems go away.

“I’m so sorry, Minj. Do you wanna talk about it?”

I let out a heavy sigh. “Not really. I’d rather forget all about it.”

“Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t we go to the fair tomorrow with the girls? You’ve been stressed enough with all the prom junk, you deserve to have a break.” she suggested.

“Ehhh, I’m not sure, Hanni. I would love to, but I’m not sure if my parents would let me go.”

“Girl, just tell them you’re going to the library with Dani to study. They’ll have to say yes!”

I hesitated for a moment, contemplating the pros and cons. On one hand, my parents would absolutely kill me if they found out, but on the other hand, a break does sound nice. For the past couple months, my life has been nothing but school work, studying, student council meetings, and prom preparations. I’ve rarely had any time to just have fun. Steeling my nerves, I made up my mind.

“Okay. Let’s do it then,” I say, my heartbeat quickening with excitement and anxiety.

“WOOOOOO!!!” Hanni cheered through the phone. “We’ll pick you up at three, you better be ready by then.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her elation. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good night, Hanni.”

“Good night, girllllll.”

I hang up the phone, placing it on my night stand before falling onto my pillow with a sigh. Tomorrow would be fun for sure, but what about after that? What if my parents found out that I lied to them and went to the fair? Would I be able to live with the consequences? I shake my head, trying to dispel the worries from my mind. Regardless of what will happen afterwards, I was determined to have fun and mess around for one day.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I jolt awake from an aching pain shooting down my back. My body had gotten so used to sleeping at Minji’s house that I forgot how shitty my own mattress was. Heading downstairs, I’m surprised to see my father not only completely conscious, but he was also cooking breakfast. And it smelled amazing.

“Uh, hey dad,” I grumbled, half-convinced I was in a dream.

He startles, almost as if he was surprised to see me. “Yuno. M-morning,” he stuttered nervously. “U-uh, why don’t you have a seat? I cooked up some breakfast.”

My hunger trumps my confusion as my legs carry me to the table, adorned with a traditional breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. I quickly dug into the feast, almost choking on a piece of bacon in the process.

“Slow down there,” my dad chuckles lightly. “I guess I haven’t been doing a great job of feeding you, huh.” The gloom and regret in his tone were palpable while his eyes were fixated to the floor, avoiding mine.

I pause mid-bite to look up at him. “It’s fine. I managed.”

“It’s not fine.” Anger tinges his voice, directed more at himself than anyone else. “S-sorry, I just… I should’ve been taking care of you. Your mother’s death was hard on both of us, but that’s not an excuse for me to neglect you. I want- No, I need to make things right, Yuno. Will you ever forgive me for being a terrible father?”

A flood of emotions overwhelms me, freezing my body in its wake. After my mom died three years ago, my father turned to alcohol to numb the pain. I never blamed him for it; she was a bright light in both of our lives and her absence left us completely shattered.

I gulped, suppressing the swirl of emotions bubbling within me. “Y-yeah, dad. I forgive you.”

A smile grows on his face - the first time I’ve seen him smile in years. “Thank you, son. I promise I’ll be here for you from now on.” A strange choking feeling constricts my throat as tears begin to well within my eyes. I rise from the table, turning my head away.

“Where are you going?” my dad asks. “You should eat some more if you're hungry.”

“U-uh, I just remembered, I uh have plans with some friends today,” I lied impulsively. I’m not sure why I lied, but all I knew is that I needed to get out of the house.

“Friends? That’s great, Yuno. Go out and have fun, don’t worry about me.” The smile that grew on his face only made me feel worse about lying. I quickly grab a hoodie and $20 from my room, not bothering to change out of my sweatpants. Right before I leave through the front door, I turn to my dad, who’s washing the dishes.

“Bye, dad,” I called out to him, a memory of my five year old self doing the same thing flickering in my mind.

“Bye, Yuno. I’ll see you later,” he waves as I close the front door behind me.

My dad sobering up after all these years is a great thing. I should be happy for him. Yet, I couldn’t knock this strange feeling in the back of my head. I took a deep breath in, hoping the cool morning air would help clear my mind. The sun casts its warmth on my face as I begin walking aimlessly. With no plan in mind, I decided to head to the convenience store.

The familiar jingle of the convenience store door chimes as I step inside, the pungent scent of cooking hotdogs assaulting my senses.

“Good morning, welcome to- Yuno!” Winter greets me with a mop in her hand, her demeanor much more upbeat than what I’m used to seeing from her.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were working today.”

“I’m just filling in for one of my coworkers who’s out sick. Are you looking for anything in particular? We just restocked on the ramen you got last time,” she offered.

I hesitated, contemplating the answer myself. “No thanks. I just needed to get out of the house.”

“Are you alright, Yuno? Did something happen?”

“No? I don’t know, I’m all conf-”

“YUNO!!”

A short figure appears out of nowhere and attempts to tackle me from the side. My instincts kick in, allowing me to dodge the attack and grab the back of the assailant’s collar.

“Who the fuck-” My eyes widen in shock as I see that my attacker is none other than Yujin. A white medical eyepatch covers his black eye, but the rest of the wounds on his face seemed to have healed overnight. “Yujin? What are you doing here?”

“He came to visit me at work,” Winter answers, mopping the floor. “It’s been a bit slow this morning, so he offered to come hang out until my shift ends.”

“Yeah, I even told her all about your epic battle with Tyler!” Yujin says, beaming up at me. I release my grip on the back of his shirt as my cheeks burn slightly from embarrassment.

“It wasn’t epic, it was… Whatever. Where the hell is the ramen?” I groan as I drag my feet towards the ramen aisle.

______________________________________________________________

The three of us sit at a table in front of the store, enjoying the gentle breeze. Warm, spicy ramen broth slides down my throat as I finish the bowl.

“It’s such a nice day outside,” Winter comments. Her eyes are shut with contentment as she leans against the table.

“We should all do something fun since the weather is so nice!” Yujin suggests, his eyes beaming with excitement.

With no actual plans for the day, I had no choice but to agree. “Sure. Why the hell not.”

Winter nodded in agreement. “Where do you guys wanna go?”

My mind went blank. I have no idea what people do for fun, let alone these two. When was the last time I had fun anyways?

Yujin hopped out of his seat, a twinkle of elation in his smile. “We can go to the fair! It’s been forever since I last went. What do you guys think?”

I scratched my head in contemplation. It’s not how I imagined spending my weekend, but my life hasn’t exactly been predictable as of late. The fair did sound… intriguing. “Okay. I’m down.”

“M-me too,” Winter added. “I haven’t been to the fair since I was seven. I wonder if they still sell those chocolate chip cookies I used to love.” As if on cue, her stomach loudly grumbled. I couldn’t help but chuckle as her cheeks grew pink with embarrassment. A group of students walked past us, entering the store.

“I-I should get back to work now. I’ll text you guys when I’m done,” Winter said before disappearing into the store.

“We’ll see you later, Winter!” Yujin called out to her before turning back to me. “Hey Yuno, what’s your number? I’ll make a groupchat with the three of us.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t have a phone,” I said before walking off. Yujin followed closely behind me, bewilderment painted on his face.

“What?! What do you mean you don’t have a phone?! How do you even live?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Never needed one,” I answered simply. It was the truth - up until now I had no one to text or call. Social media seemed like a waste of time and my dad was always too drunk to wonder where I was when I went out.

“That’s crazy. Let’s stop by my house real quick, I can lend you my old phone,” Yujin says.

“You don’t need to do tha-”

“You helped me out twice, alright? This is the only way I can repay you, so just take it.” There was an adamance in his voice that made it difficult for me to refuse.

I relented with a sigh. “Fine. Lead the way.” Yujin grinned at me before pulling me in the opposite direction towards his house. The bright rays of the sun washed over us, filling me with a sense of calm. With how weird the last couple of days have been, it felt nice to be outside.

“By the way, my grandma doesn’t speak much English, but I can translate for you. I don’t bring friends over often, so she’ll probably want to talk your ear off,” Yujin says, chuckling to himself.

“That’s fine. What about your parents? I ask rather bluntly. His expression darkens, sending a pang of guilt into my chest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, Yuno,” Yujin reassures me. “I lived with my parents back when I was still attending my old school. I wanted to stay with them, but they thought it was best for me to live with my grandma after they found out how bad I was being bullied. They would freak out if they ever found out I was being bullied here too…” His gaze fell to the floor and his shoulders slouched, his usual vibrant energy dissipating in front of my eyes. Feeling guilty, I place a hand on his shoulder supportively.

“Don’t worry about it. No one’s gonna mess with you anymore.” I awkwardly patted Yujin on the back, hoping it would cheer him up even a little bit. Thankfully, it ended up working as his frown was replaced with a small yet hopeful grin.

“Thanks, Yuno. I think my parents would like you.” I kept my mouth shut, grappling with the uncertainty of whether Yujin’s parents would like their son hanging around with someone who kicks the shit out of bullies just because he can. We soon arrived in front of Yujin’s house, which was similar to all the houses in the neighborhood, save for the pair of rocking chairs decorating the front porch.

“Before my grandpa died, my grandma and him would sit in those chairs to watch the sunrise together. That’s kinda cute, don’t you think?” Yujin’s words hung in the air as he unlocked the door. I could only offer a nod as my understanding of romance and the like was nonexistent.

Upon stepping into his home, we were immediately greeted by Yujin’s grandmother, resting in a large reclining chair. The two of them exchange words in a language I can’t recognize, and Yujin says something makes his grandma smile.

“Grandma said that you’re very tall and handsome,” he says, chuckling. A rush of warmth tinges my cheeks, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment.

“O-oh, uh, tell her I said thanks. I guess.” Yujin relays my message, triggering a bout of laughter from his grandma that eventually transforms into a coughing fit.

“Yujin, are you back alre- Oh jeez.” Danielle suddenly rounds the corner, carrying a saucer with a cup of tea balancing on top of it. Her casual attire of a simple yellow t-shirt and jeans was a far cry from the cold aura she normally exuded in her school uniform. She places the cup of tea on the table next to Yujin’s grandma before turning her attention back to me.

“Yuno. Hello,” she greets, glaring at me through her glasses. I nod back, bewildered by her presence in Yujin’s home.

“Danielle and her mom are helping me take care of grandma. They’ve been really helpful ever since yesterday.” A genuine smile illuminated Yujin’s face, inadvertently softening Danielle’s expression. It immediately hardened as her gaze went back to me. “I just stopped by to give Yuno my old phone to borrow since he doesn’t have one of his own. Isn’t that crazy?” he explains to Danielle.

She scrutinized my expression with steely eyes, sending chills down my spine. Minji’s parents may have been scary, but Danielle was a completely different beast. “You’re just giving it to him? He’s not, I don’t know, threatening you to give it to him?” she interrogates. I instinctively rolled my eyes at her words while Yujin simply laughed it off.

“It’s the least I could do to repay him for…” He gestures to his eyepatch, cautiously glancing at his grandma, who drifted off to sleep without anyone of us noticing. Yujin’s phone suddenly buzzes in his pocket, revealing a text from Winter. “We should hurry, Winter’s shift is ending soon. Come on, Yuno!” he says before running up the stairs. I quickly follow behind him, not wanting to be left alone with Danielle.

Yujin’s room is the epitome of a stereotypical geek’s paradise. The walls are lined with a colorful variety of superhero posters, accompanied by some drawings he had done himself. On the far side of the room, a shelf is filled to the brim with action figures, fake weapons, and a single first place trophy for a “Junior Art Competition”. His desk is the complete opposite of Minji’s, half-finished drawings, eraser shavings, and colored pencils scattered along its surface.

“Sorry about the mess, I would’ve cleaned up if I knew you would be coming over,” Yujin says as he rummages through a drawer on his desk, pulling out a phone. “Here. It’s not much, but you’ll be able to call and text people, and you can download some games on there if you want.”

It was smaller and less impressive than most phones I’ve seen people carry, but I couldn’t complain. It was better than anything I’ve had before (which was nothing). “Thanks,” I utter as I take the phone from his hands. “I’ll, uh, keep it safe.”

Yujin chuckles as he leaves his room. As we reach the bottom of the stairs, he suddenly stops. “Oh shoot, I should probably give you the charger too,” he says before darting back to his room. I turn around to wait for him in the living room, only to find Yujin’s grandma beckoning me with a wrinkly hand. As if I was in a trance, I suddenly started inching towards her, like a snake being hypnotized by a flute. She muttered in my ear in perfect english: “Please take care of Yujin.” Her message was plain and simple, yet I was still filled with questions. Before I could ask any, however, she was already fast asleep. I was starting to wonder whether or not I imagined the whole interaction.

“What are you doing?” Danielle asks from across the room. Somehow, I failed to notice her presence this entire time.

“N-nothing, she just… Sorry,” I stutter awkwardly. With impeccable timing, Yujin appears from the stairs with a phone charger in hand, saving me from this awkward situation.

“Here you go, Yuno. We should head out now, Winter oughta be done with her shift by now,’ he says. “Bye, Danielle!”

Danielle waves at Yujin as we leave, shooting one final glare directed at me right as the door closes. I inspected his old phone, turning it around in my hand. Aside from a couple essential apps, it was completely bare bones, and even the lock screen was nothing but a plain blue rectangle.

“I should probably add your number to the group chat now, huh,” Yujin says, pulling out his phone. After a brief moment, I feel the phone vibrate in my hand with an audible buzz. A notification on the phone reads, “You have been added to a group chat!”

“There you go! If you ever need to talk to either of us, just send a message and one of us is bound to answer!” He flashes me a wide toothy grin that I silently snicker at. A vivid memory of my childhood suddenly plays in my mind - a timid only child playing with his imaginary siblings. I never brought it up with my mother when she was alive, but I always wanted a younger sibling to play with and take care of. That want manifested itself into an imaginary younger brother that played with me when no other kid would. Of course I’ve long outgrown that phase by now, but something about Yujin is eerily similar to the imaginary younger brother I had before. Or maybe I’ve finally gone insane.

“So.. the fair. What’s it like?” I ask him.

“What?! You’ve never been to the fair before either?! How on earth are you even alive right now?!” Yujin exclaims, his eyes growing wide with disbelief. “As your friend, it’s my job to ensure that you have a fun day at the fair. Now let’s hurry up, Winter is probably waiting for us.” He grabs my arm and pulls me forward, running to the convenience store. A small grin grows on my face as the wind blows past my ears.

______________________________________________________________

“Are you two ready?” Winter asks us as she steps out of the convenience store. She’s dressed in a flowery sundress with a forest green cardigan layered over the top, a contrast to her plain work uniform.

“Yup, we’re all ready! I got some extra cash for the subway,’ Yujin says.

“Subway?” I ask. My hand shoots into my pocket, fingering the $15 I have left and regretting my decision to buy ramen that morning.

“Don’t worry about the subway, we can just use my metrocard,” Winter says, pulling out a shiny plastic card from her purse. I let out a sigh of relief, although I can’t help but feel bad for not being able to pay for myself.

“Alright, let’s hurry before the lines get too long!” Yujin skips ahead of us with the excitement of a child bringing home a new toy, eliciting a giggle from Winter.

The sun flashes its light into my eyes, casting its warm glow on my skin. A light fluttering fills my heart with each step, and for the first time in years, I felt hopeful for what the day would bring.

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phonydiaries · 6 months

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a Dance in The Dark - P x Reader

It’s late when you reach the puppet’s quarters. Long shadows loom along the walls of the hotel and a draft rustles past you, pajama-clad and disheveled from a night of restlessness. You hadn’t bothered to switch your clothes, knowing your dear puppet wouldn’t pay it any mind. You had half expected to find P dormant at this hour, but instead he’s laid out on the floor with his legs kicked over the side of his bed. A book -which he seems thoroughly engrossed in- is held up above his head, its pages illuminated by the yellow-green light of Monad’s lamp, which casts a soft halo about the edges of his face. You rap your knuckles against the doorframe and his eyes jump to you, startled out of their careful concentration.

“Can’t sleep.” You sigh, gesturing down the hall with a tilt of your head. “Walk with me?”

With a twitch of a smile, Pinocchio tosses his book to the side and rolls haphazardly out of his place on the floor, clumsy with excitement.

Knowing the hotel well enough, the two of you make your rounds of its many chambers in the dark, ever so often bumping elbows to each other’s ribs. Your barefoot steps cast dull echoes through the halls as you dip in and out of doorways, poke behind desks and rummage carelessly through shelves. In the deep blue foreignness of nighttime, you feel exploratory; curious like children let loose in an enormous garden just brimming with unrealized discoveries.

Passing through the entrance hall, you seize the coveted opportunity to act a fool behind the front desk. “Hello, you’ve reached Hotel Krat.” You say, picking up the receiver of the hotel’s long-dead rotary phone. You’re sat on top of the desk now, your legs swinging over the side. Pinocchio glances up at you, his hands preoccupied diligently petting the hotel’s beloved orange tabby. You feign listening to the nonexistent voice on the other end of the phone. “Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Spring is busy at the moment. I’m afraid he’s in a very important meeting.”

After thoroughly nosing about, you find yourselves settling in the piano room, you and Pino curiously flipping through pages and pages of sheet music. P’s interest is especially piqued by one booklet and he takes a seat at the piano, attempting to make sense of its pages. An admirable attempt is made as he plinks slowly and diligently away at the piece, tugging at your sleeve when he gets stuck. You barely know more than he does, and as you sit together at the bench your fingers tangle and trip over each other. The resulting notes are dissonant and clangy and you both fall into ripples of laughter at your duet's messy melody.

The night wears on calmly, P fingering through a box of cobwebbed records, most of which are scratched beyond recognition. He retrieves one with some care and blows a layer of dust from the cover, his nose scrunching as it flutters across his face.

You’re lying on the floor, limbs outstretched like a lazy snow angel as P futzes with the gramophone. There’s a few moments of anticipatory static before the record crackles to life; a somber piano score reverberates through the dim and intimate space. You close your eyes as a woman’s wispy voice floats through the room, cool and calm. Something about the melody, the echo, the timbre of her voice makes your ribs fall heavy around your heart like a slowly but surely shrinking birdcage.

Close your eyes,

Come to me,

Feel alright,

Just dance with me all through the night

“I can’t stand it.” You start, “It’s beautiful… but it makes me so sad.”

You wonder if P is affected differently, maybe even more than you are by the emotional quality of the music. He certainly seems to have a fascination with it. “What about you?” You ask, your head turning to glance at the puppet.

P’s eyes flicker towards the ceiling and his mouth twitches to the side in thoughtful consideration. He lifts a finger at you -hold on- while he rises from his place at the piano stool and arranges himself with precision beside the grand. He stands up tall, shoulders back, one arm held out just-so at hip level, the other outstretched as if resting on the shoulder of a ghost. You beam at the fine mimic work in front of you.

“Really?” you ask, your brows knitting with intrigue. “Makes you want to dance, huh?”

He nods enthusiastically and motions for you to join him. Your mouth hangs open for a moment.

“Oh- no really I don’t know the first thing about it.” You stammer. Before your days at the hotel as Pinocchio’s companion, you had never known such affluent people and knew very little of high society or of their practices. Any formal knowledge of dance was utterly foreign to you.

P assumes a swordsman’s stance and shrugs at you, nonchalant, as if combat training and dance were the most naturally drawn parallels in the world.

“Sparring with you isn’t the same.” You say flatly, but P’s already made up his mind, and before you know it his hand is closing around yours and he’s tugging you up off the floor. You laugh nervously as you rise to your feet. “No, I’m serious! I don’t-” You begin to protest, but you catch a glimpse of his face, wide pleading eyes and creased brows. He smiles with all the calculated charm of a fox, handsome and cunning. You exhale deeply, steeling yourself before meeting his gaze.

“Oh fine.” You relent, much to his chagrin. “Just watch your feet, I mean it.”

P’s smile is annoyingly triumphant as he holds his hands palm-up out to you, seeking your guidance. Always so much concern for your comfort, you feel your cheeks warm just barely and hope the low light of the piano room masks it.

“Right. Um. Let’s see, you’ll put your hands…here.” You say, taking his hands in yours and leading them to the crook between your waist and hips. He steals curious glances at you as you do.

“And then I guess I’ll just…” You trail off, as your hands fold neatly together at the nape of his neck. You stand still for a moment, just looking at each other in the dark, the features of your faces obscured and foreign. This isn’t the way these things are normally done, you think, in pajamas, in the dark, but you can’t imagine it gets any better. If not for the undercurrent of music, you may have forgotten your purpose here entirely. P takes the first step, and you follow his lead with a dull anxiousness. Strangely enough, your movements feel still and mechanical compared to his. You try to loosen up, rolling your shoulders back, allowing yourself to be disarmed. P’s presence has a funny way of setting you at ease.

The two of you move slowly in circles through the room, swaying gently like awkward young lovers. You draw into him as the music carries. Your cheek settles against his shoulder and his arms wrap around the small of your back and you breathe easy. It’s a lovely feeling, the way your bodies fit together like this, like they were made to. As you continue to step and sway, you close your eyes and listen to the gentle whirs and clicks of your companion’s heart…although…

You maneuver slightly and press your ear to his chest. With some surprise you notice a skipping in its usual rhythm, bolder than you’ve ever heard it. You pull your head away and look up at P’s face in awe, a glinting smirk crossing your lips.

“Pino, are you nervous?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. His face contorts and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes of it. He actually looks flustered and you almost don’t believe it. “It’s just me.” You say simply. At this, Pinocchio’s face softens, his brows turning up as if he’d taken offense.

“Just you?” He asks, and the timbre of his voice surprises you. You spend so much time together, and yet hardly do you hear him speak. Your smile fades slowly, replaced with an expression of curiosity. You nod hesitantly and hum in reply. P shakes his head at you, deliberate and slow.

“Not just.” He murmurs, his gaze holding yours intently. “Never just you.” You realize you’re holding your breath. A ghost of a whisper slips past your lips.

“Oh.”

Your fingers itch for something you can’t quite name and you find yourself pulling the puppet closer. His head dips to meet you and you feel a stray lock of his hair brush your cheek. His breath is warm.

The song ends.

The needle of the gramophone lifts and the air is stretched thin with a cutting silence. You’re left in the dark together again, frozen in place. It feels terribly long, like you’re both waiting for something.

“The music’s stopped.” You say, shattering the stillness of the moment, and as P moves to retrieve the record you immediately wish you hadn't. Your hand extends to stop him, fingers closing around his wrist. “But- we don’t have to, you know.”

In the dark, you think you see him smile. He holds you like glass, delicate, and picks up again, moving leisurely to the music playing only in his head. He hums the tune softly and you follow suit, the two of you meeting in a duet of somber sounds. You wonder if your chests swell the same, if your breaths and heartbeats synchronize, following each other blindly the way you do now. The motion feels like crashing waves, steady and rhythmic, comfortingly repetitive. You fall into the flow of it all over again, leaning against P, sturdy and secure. You wouldn’t mind doing this all night.

Feels alright, indeed.

#shalalalala KISS THE FUCKING. BOY.#P talks more than usual meaning a total of 7 words #piano and gramophone are not in the same room but I realized that too late so you're gonna have to be okay with that #lies of p #lop #lies of p fanfic #my writing #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader

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lithium80writer · 7 months

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I'm With The Band (Eddie Munson one shots)

Make Me

⚠️Explicit Sexual Content. 18+. Minors DNI⚠️

Summary: You act like a brat after getting jealous of Eddie doing a duet with another girl. Eddie shuts you up in the best way possible. ;)

*******

You sit in the recording studio watching as Eddie talks to Stacie. They're in the process of recording a duet together and she's been around for a week now.

She's been hitting on Eddie every chance she gets and you've been doing your best to remain calm. 'It's just for the album.' 'It's good for the brand.' You've heard it all from his manager this entire week.

Stacie flips her hair and laughs and whatever Eddie is chatting about. Bitch. You light a cigarette and glare over at the two of them. "Y/n?" Eddie's manager pops up beside you.

"I haven't done anything to her, Rick." you reassure, keeping your eyes locked on her. She places her hand on Eddie's chest and you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. Eddie just chuckles and takes a small step backwards, creating a little space between the two.

You bite your tongue and look over at Rick, your anger clear as day on your face. "It's almost done. And she'll be gone. Please, y/n." he begs you.

"I'm behaving." you promise, exhaling smoke. "But if she touches him again then we're gonna have a problem." you rant, flicking your eyes back to her again. Eddie glances your way and his brown eyes lock onto yours. They are saying the same thing Rick is trying to tell you. Pleading with you to relax. He’s knows your temper.

"This is bullshit." you gripe, standing quickly and shooting the bird in their direction. Stacie gasps dramatically and you wonder how dramatic she would be if you actually did what you wanted to do to her.

You roll your eyes and make your way towards the door. "Y/n?" Eddie calls after you but you let the door slam behind you.

You hear footsteps chasing after you and you purposefully don't turn around but you know it's Eddie.

"Y/n, come on." he groans as he falls in step beside you.

“Go do your song, I just don’t wanna watch!” you snip.

"Stop acting like that." he sighs deeply, reaching for your arm. You turn on your heel to face him.

"Like what?" you say with an attitude.

"Like a... I don't know.." he trails off.

"A bitch, Eddie? Is that what you wanna say?" you spit back. Your intentions are fully to piss him off and make him destroy you.

"I didn't say that." he meets your eyes and you narrow yours.

"I'm not being a bitch. You haven't seen a bitch. But yes, I don't think she should be flirting with you and touching on you right in front of me... that's a bitch move." you smirk and you can tell he's irritated, your plan working perfectly.

"Y/n I'm so tired of having this same fucking argument every day." Eddie groans.

"Well maybe you should tell your little girlfriend to back the fuck up." you stare at him, hands on your hips.

"She's not my girlfriend.. y/n you're acting crazy. We have to work with her on this song!" his voice is rising with every word.

"So do the fucking song. She doesn't have to constantly touch you!" you yell back at him.

"It's not like she's holding my fucking dick in her hand, y/n. She touched my chest!" Eddie shouts.

"Fuck. You." you snap, walking away again.

"You're acting like a jealous brat." he shouts after you.

You ignore him and walk into the first door you see and make your way inside. A second later the door swings open.

"Are we really doing this?" Eddie walks closer to you. "Doing what?" you stare at him blankly.

"Someone needs to fix your attitude." Eddie's tone deepens.

You feel your heart pounding and glance up to meet his pretty eyes.

"Is that what you want?" He takes a step closer, looming over you. "Is that why you're acting like this?" he continues as he brings his hand to your chin gripping it tightly, his fingers digging into your skin.

"I don't have an..." you start.

"Shut. Up." he demands before you can finish.

"Make me." you demand back.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he burns. Oh fuck.

"Do I.." you begin but Eddie's hand is suddenly around your neck, pressing you back against the wall. You inhale sharply as his fingers grip your throat tightly.

"I said.. stop talking." he hisses in your ear.

"You're so hot when you're angry." you moan as you feel his tongue trailing along your neck, making its way up to your ear.

"Eddie.." you whisper. "Do I need to fuck that attitude out of you?" he hums, switching directions, leaving small kisses down your neck.

“Yes.” you mumble, giving in, craving the pain he was sure to inflict. He lets out a dark chuckle, making you roll your eyes.

"You're being an asshole." you whine and he brings his face back to yours, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

Eddie's POV

"I think we should use that mouth for something more productive." you hum as you look down into her eyes, burning into yours with a mix of anger and lust.

Is she gonna challenge me?

She bites her lip and her face softens as she blinks her eyelashes innocently.

Got her.

You place your hand on the top of her head, threading your fingers in her hair, pushing down. She slowly drops to her knees and looks up at you. Her hand trails across your cock and you feel yourself getting harder by the second.

She unbuttons your jeans and pulls them down roughly. She takes your member in her hand and begins slowly stroking you.

She kisses the head of your cock before slowly snaking her tongue around it, teasing you. Your entire body tenses up as she makes her way to the underside of your cock licking the length of your shaft.

"Fuck, baby." you groan as her lips wrap around the head of your cock. She begins bobbing up and down quickly. Her cheeks suck in creating more stimulation and your head falls back from the pleasure.

She moans onto your cock, sending tingles all throughout your body.

You grip her hair and push down roughly making her gag on your cock. You know this is what she wants. Pushing your buttons until you have to remind her who’s in charge.

You begin to buck your hips, fucking her throat, reaching deep inside. You glance down to see her eyes watering, spit seeping from the sides of her mouth as she takes as much of you as she can.

Goddamn.

"Fuck, you look pretty baby. I love seeing you on your knees.." you pant breathlessly. She grips your ass tightly allowing you deeper in her throat with each thrust of your hips. “Mmm.. suck my cock, sweetheart.” you grunt, watching the tears stream down her pretty face. She digs her nails into your skin as she sucks sloppily, bringing you right to the edge.

"I'm.. fuck, I'm gonna cum." you grit your teeth and press down on her head, your cock slamming into the very back of her throat as you feel the immense pleasure from your orgasm. Your cum pours into her mouth in spurts. She swallows every drop and sucks slowly to the tip. She flicks her tongue across your sensitive head pulling a little whimper from you.

She laughs breathily as she stands back up. "Is that a more productive way to use my mouth?" she sneers as she wraps her arms around your neck.

"You still have an attitude, don't you?" you say reaching down and gripping her ass.

“A little.” she sasses, waiting for you to take control again. You push her roughly against the wall and she lets out a small gasp.

You quickly lift her dress above her hips and pull her panties down to her feet.

Little brat.

Y/n's POV

Eddie strokes his cock a few times in his hand, bringing it back to its full size. You look at him curiously, kicking your panties to the side. He swiftly hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you off the ground with ease.

Yes.

Your legs wrap around his waist and you feel his thick cock pressed against your entrance. He slowly lets go of your thighs just a bit and you slide down onto his cock, the stretch so delicious as he glides into you.

"Oh shit!" you cry as you feel him deep inside as he enters you completely. You rest your hands on his shoulders as he begins to thrust up into you, holding you up against the wall, small moans falling from your lips as he picks up his pace.

"What's with this attitude? Didn't I fuck you hard enough last night?" he growls as he continues slamming you into the wall, your slick coating his dick entirely as he pumps in and out of you.

"I... Eddie..." you whine desperately, your breasts bouncing with every thrust of his hips. You toss your head back into the wall, as he lifts you up and down on his hard cock rapidly, words escaping you altogether.

"Where are your words now, sweetheart? You had a lot to say earlier." he chuckles wickedly as you struggle to speak.

Moans and cries pour from your lips as you feel his cock reaching deep inside. Your nails dig into his back and your head falls onto his shoulder as he fucks you mercilessly.

"I..." you try again but it quickly turns into a moan as he quickens his pace even more.

“Mmm.. can’t talk now, baby?” he taunts, his big cock driving into you wildly. He rams into your sweet spot again and again as you feel the pressure building.

Your nails dig deeper into his shoulder making him moan as your mouth falls open silently as your orgasm pulses through you, your pussy clenching around him again and again. You feel your slickness running down your thighs and covering his cock.

In one quick motion he lifts you off his member and turns you to face the wall. He smacks your ass hard and you feel the burn of his hand. "Fuck!" you scream.

He enters you from behind and presses your face against the hard wall as he works himself deep. Over and over he plunges his cock into you causing your legs to shake uncontrollably. The sounds of him fucking you echo around the room.

"Eddie... I can't... please..." you beg. His hand comes to grip your throat and he leans in close. His voice is hot in your ear as he speaks. "I'm gonna fuck you until your little attitude is gone." he growls, making your eyes roll into your head.

He picks up his pace again and tears stream down your cheeks as he completely ruins you. “T-too much.” you sob.

"You can take it.. you've done it before, baby." he teases. Your body feels like it's on fire as he chokes you and spanks you again and again. The sting of his rings adding a delicious pain.

Your legs continue to shake as he overstimulates every part of you. His fingers are now rubbing fast circles on your clit making you squeal.

Your head falls back into him and he moves to press in against the wall again. "Are you done being a brat?" he asks deeply, his thrusts still just as powerful.

"Y-yes." you whimper.

"Louder." he orders.

"Yes!" you yell out as he pulls on your hair.

"You're gonna cum for me again." he demands, spreading your legs farther apart.

"I can't..." you whimper softly.

"It's not a question. You're gonna be a good girl. And you're gonna cum.." he burns deeply.

"Eddieee.." you cry.

"Cum." he demands and your body responds to his words.

Your back arches into him and he lets out a loud moan as you soak his cock once again. This time you feel his cum mix with yours. He slams into you a few more times as he fills you, his cock twitching inside of you.

He releases your hair and your head falls into the wall as you try to catch your breath. "Holy shit... Eddie.. fuck." you pant breathlessy.

He pulls out of you and spins you around to face him. "Well... are you gonna behave?" he asks with a smirk.

You shrug lightly. "She's still a bitch." you say with a wink.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

Masterlist 🖤

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jessamine-rose · 1 year

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⋆‧͙*̩̩͙꒰ Disjecta Membra ꒱*̩̩͙‧͙⋆

*sigh* idk what to say at this point. I’m not even a major simp for the Jester but the Pierro brainrot was very infectious. Y’all can thank @frogchiro for converting me and @seakicker for inspiring this fic =_=

As always, thank you to @diodellet for suffering with me as my peer reviewer!! I’m also grateful to Kin for helping with my characterization of Pierro. I ended up writing about a very detailed darling, but I hope you enjoy their twisted tale nonetheless :>

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, coercion, blood, violence, death, psychological trauma, self-deprecation, needles, spice, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader who is a fallen goddess, pre-release Pierro

♡ 14.9k words under the cut ♡

i. memento mori

You cooked too much food again.

You stare at your dinner. Out of habit, you had also set the table for two and filled both plates before realizing your mistake. You can’t finish the cream stew all by yourself.

Great, more stale leftovers.

You shake your head and pick up your spoon.

Old habits die hard. You’d made the same mistake before, but it had taken less time for you to adjust. It was easier when someone was still there to correct you.

The kitchen is too quiet. You can only manage a few bites before you grow sick of the empty chair across from you. Picking up your plate and cutlery, you go outside and take a seat at the temple entrance.

The forest is the same as usual, shrouded in a veil of mist. Through the haze, you can spot a few woodland critters darting to and fro. Somewhere in the trees, a pair of birds are singing a harmonious duet. The pasithea flowers are in full bloom.

You wave your hand and the mist rises. The berry bushes look ripe for picking. You can already imagine the many—no, Oizys won’t be here to enjoy your cooking.

“Help.”

You startle. Has a human entered your territory?

You can sense a distressed voice along with weak movement. From what you can tell, the wanderer must be at the edge of the forest, close enough to reach the mist.

You fix your veil, draping the sheer fabric over your face, and leave the temple.

It doesn’t take long to find him. The human is slumped against a tall tree surrounded by achlys flowers. His breathing feels unsteady.

“Hello?” You slowly approach him, clearing the mist.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. You lean down to examine him.

The poor thing looks close to death. His silver hair is messy and there is a cut on the side of his face. Judging by the weapons on his person, could he be a combatant? No, his torn clothes look too fancy for an ordinary soldier.

You tap his shoulder. “Can you hear me, dear?”

He opens his eyes.

Four-pointed stars.

You draw back. Those diamond-shaped pupils...this human is clearly from Khaenri’ah.

He lifts his head, blinking blearily. Based on appearance alone, he seems too weak to attack you.

You don’t sense anyone else within the forest. You could easily give this person first aid then hide in your temple. It shouldn’t take long for him to find the city once he recovers.

A hand weakly grips your wrist. The Khaenri'ahn dazedly looks up at you.

“Who are you?”

No, that would be absolutely cruel.

You crouch down, touching his forehead with the back of your hand. His temperature is too warm. And now that you’ve taken a closer look, is that blood on his clothes?

“Shh, it’s all right,” you whisper, offering a soft smile. “You’re safe here.”

The Khaenri'ahn stares at you for a few more seconds before his eyes flutter shut. His hand lets go of your wrist and falls to his side—did he pass out already?

You glance at the berry bushes and mutter a silent apology.

At least your dinner won’t go to waste.

ii. mea culpa

Thankfully, the Khaenri'ahn’s injuries aren’t too severe. After treating his wounds, you tuck him in bed and wait for him to wake up.

Even in slumber, his expression is weary. There are faded scars mixed in with his bandages. Has he been wandering Teyvat since the fall of his nation? How did he survive?

What should you do with him?

His expression stirs, followed by a pained noise. The diamond pupils are exposed.

“Ah, you’re awake!” you exclaim, rushing to his bedside. “Do you feel better?”

“What?” He turns his head in your direction, clearly confused.

You raise a cup to his lips. “Here, drink some water first.”

He finishes the entire glass. You point at the pitcher on the nightstand.

“Are you still thirsty? Or would you like something to eat?”

He shakes his head, looking at you warily. “Not now…where am I?”

“You’re in a safe place.” You smile, placing a hand on his bandaged shoulder. “No one will hurt you in my temple.”

His eyes widen. “Your temple?”

He lunges forward. A shocked cry leaves your lips as he sits up and grabs your arm.

“You.” His gaze turns hostile. “You are a god.”

Huh, he found out sooner than intended.

“That I am.”

You might as well reveal your true form. Wispy gray marks spread across your skin.

He holds your arm in a bruising grip. “What do you intend to do with me?”

“Believe it or not, I wanted to save your life.” You hold his gaze through your veil. “Don’t worry, even if my intentions were cruel, I am quite harmless for a god.”

“And who are you, exactly?”

You wince as he strengthens his hold on you. Are humans normally this strong?

“You may call me ______,” you reply calmly. “That is the name I go by nowadays. But since you are asking for my true identity, I’ll be honest: I am █████ the God of Mist.”

He glances at the shadowy swirls on your arm. “I have never heard of your title.”

“That is to be expected,” you reply. “Now could you please let go of me? I understand your aggression, but I can’t properly care for you with a broken arm.”

The Khaenri'ahn’s gaze is clear this time. Those diamond pupils fixate on your face then his bandages. After looking around the guest room, he reluctantly lets go of you.

“There, was that so difficult?” you ask him. “I am sure that you have many questions, and I can promise you my full honesty. But for now, you must rest.”

“I can—”

He tries to leave the bed, only to stumble. You catch him in time.

“Now, what did I tell you? Don’t overexert yourself.” Shaking your head, you help him back into bed. “May I know your name, dear?”

The distrustful look he gives you is an adequate response.

“Not willing? Fine, that is a wise precaution.” You check your arm for lingering marks from his grasp. “Moving on, I cooked cream stew earlier. Would you like some?”

A moment of silence precedes his response.

“Yes,” he mutters sheepishly, “and pardon my hostility.”

You smile at him. “No offense taken. It isn’t everyday that someone treats me this way.”

*✧･ﾟ

The Khaenri'ahn remains cautious. In a few weeks, he regains enough strength to leave his bed and walk around the temple. You regularly change his bandages.

“Good, you don’t seem to be sick anymore.” You remove your hand from his forehead and leave the temple. “But it will take more time for your injuries to heal.”

It would be faster if Vesta were here.

He follows you. Since leaving the guest room, he has been watching you go about your daily routine. Cooking, foraging, doing laundry, cleaning the temple, checking the animal traps.

“For a god, you live quite a humble lifestyle,” he muses. “I assumed that you would have a horde of followers catering to your every need.”

“Hardly!” you scoff. “That isn’t my style of worship.”

The path ahead of you is obscured by mist. You are quick to catch the Khaenri'ahn when he trips on the steep slope.

“Are you all right?”

“I am fine,” he mutters, averting eye contact. “Where are your followers to begin with? I have not encountered any since entering this forest.”

“That is because they are all here.”

You wave your hand and the mist disperses.

The Khaenri’ahn stops in his tracks. “This is…”

The pasithea flowers have overtaken the cemetery. You walk past the gravestones towards a pair of half-broken statues.

“I suppose you’d like an explanation. Do you know about the Archon War?”

A short pause. “I have heard stories.”

Good, you don’t need to explain that far into history.

The pasithea flowers are concentrated around the shorter statue. Deep blue flowers sprout from the cracks, concealing her face.

“This isn’t my original territory,” you explain. “Before, I shared a vast area of land with three other gods. We retreated to this forest with our followers during the war.”

The Khaenri’ahn walks over to the other statue. “They survived as well?”

His face is discolored. A damaged Claymore rests in his hands, never to be used again.

You cover the statue’s eyes with mist. “Yes, but they’re currently dead.”

Silence. Picking up a broom, you sweep the leaves around the statues.

“At first, we defended our territory,” you continue. “That was the option I voted for, but we fled after Vesta was slain. A few centuries later, Pasithea succumbed to erosion. Wait, do I need to explain what erosion is?”

He shakes his head. “I can discern the meaning of the term. You may continue.”

“Okay then. In Pasithea’s case…she went mad and it affected our people. So one of her followers decided to end her misery.”

You sidestep a patch of pasithea flowers. If you try hard enough, you can still recall the lyrics to her lullabies.

“By the time I sensed them, it was too late…her death plagued everyone in the forest with insanity, and only a few survived. And before that, I learned that my friend Havria—she established her own new territory in Liyue—was also slain by her people.”

The Khaenri’ahn remains silent. You move on to a row of gravestones engraved with curlicues.

“Over time, my followers died out. The last ones lost faith in me and left; many switched to my last friend Oizys. I don’t blame them. His fortune, Vesta’s warmth, Pasithea’s dreams…what I gave them was incomparable. All my mist did was hide them from the world.”

“And what happened to Oizys?” he asks tensely.

You hesitate. “He died at the start of the war between Celestia and Khaenri’ah. He was on the gods’ side. A few weeks after he left, I discovered his body near the forest. I…I guess he used the last of his strength to come home.”

Tears prick the corners of your vision. You straighten your veil and walk over to Oizys’s grave, noting the Khaenri’ahn’s wary expression.

“And you do not resent my people for slaying your friend?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I’d rather not cause any more deaths. And I should be asking you the same question, really.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Until now, no grass has grown over his grave. Maybe you should try planting berries.

“I took a neutral stance during the Cataclysm,” you explain, “and that angered Oizys; he always called me too kind for my own good. But if I was truly kind, shouldn’t I have stopped him from joining the war? Shouldn’t I have cared more about his future victims?”

How long will it take for his body to decompose? Is his soul at peace?

“Maybe he would still be alive. Maybe your nation would have more survivors.”

The silence is heavy. You turn to the Khaenri’ahn, noting his solemn expression.

What did it feel like to lose all of his loved ones at once? Is it even possible for him to mourn their deaths?

Finally, he looks up to face you. There is no anger in his gaze, only sympathy.

“I did not advocate for the war, either,” he says, “but I was only a mage in the royal court. For that reason, the previous ruler heeded the sages’ words over my own.”

“I see.” You put down the broom and turn away from the statues. “Let’s go. It will take half a day to clean this place, and you need more rest.”

He follows you. “If you insist.”

The two of you leave the cemetery. The area is once again shrouded in mist.

The Khaenri’ahn meets your gaze. “I am sorry for your loss, ______.”

“I must say the same to you.”

He’s had less trouble walking lately. Soon enough, he will be able to leave the forest.

You walk ahead. “Once you have fully recovered, I expect you to leave. If you don’t have a clear destination in mind, I can guide you to Oizys’s city or draw a map of Teyvat for you.”

He responds quickly this time. “Of course, I would not want to overstay my welcome.”

“Oh, it’s not that.” You turn around to face him, a sad smile on your face. “It’s for your own good, dear. There is no future for you here.”

*✧･ﾟ

After your visit to the cemetery, the Khaenri’ahn begins helping around the forest. You initially disapprove of it but he is insistent on “repaying your kindness.”

He doesn’t divulge any more personal information apart from the fact that he lived with an outlander for some time. You ask him general questions about Khaenri’ah’s culture instead; in turn, he inquires about your glory days.

“Are your old temples still standing?” he asks.

You focus on the chessboard. “The last time I checked, all of them succumbed to the elements. My friends’ temples are more intact; some of my statues are kept there.”

The Khaenri’ahn moves a black pawn. “And they remain in their place, unbothered?”

You make your next move. “More or less. I’ve run into a few adventurers, and they make the wildest assumptions about my images. They would be quite disappointed if they knew what the real thing is like.”

He looks around the temple. Your religious art had been destroyed years ago.

“I can only imagine what it is like to encounter the remnants of your previous existence. It must conjure painful memories.”

You change the topic. “Have you planned your next destination?”

“I am still undecided.”

“Maybe this question will help: What will you do now?”

The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t need bandages anymore. After months of his silent company, his departure will leave a new gap in your daily routine.

“You could start over in another nation. I’d suggest the city of Miseria as a new home; it is still thriving after Oizys’s death.”

He picks up another chess piece, planning his next move.

You continue speaking. “Or you could search for fellow survivors, maybe even preserve what is left of Khaenri’ah. Your life does not end with your nation. After some time…you will eventually move on from the calamity.”

The chess piece cracks in his hand.

You look up immediately. The Khaenri’ahn glares at you.

“Move on?” he asks angrily. “After the destruction I have witnessed, acceptance would be the most humiliating form of defeat.”

The diamonds in his eyes flash. This is your first time seeing him in such a furious state.

You glance at his clenched fist. You will need to replace the black king.

“In that case,” you reply carefully, “is vengeance a preferable option for you? It is one thing to live with resentment but taking action is a different matter.”

He returns the king to its original square and moves his queen instead. “At the moment, I have no concrete plan. But so long as I can remember the flames of Celestia’s cruelty, I would like to see them extinguished.”

“...Then so be it.”

You analyze the chessboard. The Khaenri’ahn turned out to be a formidable opponent. With how he constantly surprises you, you have no doubt that he will do well.

You are absolutely cornered. He topples your white king, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“Checkmate.”

iii. damnatio memoriae

The remaining weeks are dreamlike. You enjoy more meals, conversations, and chess games with your temporary companion. He has more energy these days, perhaps motivated by your earlier conversation. He even smiles on a few occasions.

It only makes his departure more difficult.

“Do you have everything you need?”

The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t stop to check his bag. “You have already given me more than enough for my travels.”

“Are you sure? Do you need more food? Another blanket?”

“I can take care of myself henceforth.”

How can he be so sure?

The mist swirls around you. You guide him to the edge of the forest.

“Then I guess this is where we say goodbye.”

The Khaenri’ahn steps out of the mist. He looks nothing like the pitiful creature you first met. No traces of sickness or injury. Mended clothes—he even allowed you to embroider stars and diamonds over the holes. A bright, determined gaze directed at you.

“Thank you for everything,” he tells you. “Had you not saved me, I would have lost hope ages ago.”

You smile, shaking your head. “That was nothing, dear. Thank you for your company.”

What will he do now? Will he really seek vengeance against Celestia?

He glances at the expanding mist. “Will you remain in your territory?”

“Of course, someone needs to take care of the cemetery. Oh, and…” Your voice trails off, a pause where his unknown name should be. “I have one last thing to say to you.”

He resumes eye contact. “Yes?”

He will be fine. It would be selfish to keep him here.

The mist recedes. You lift your veil, smiling.

“Your feelings are valid. If resentment is what drives you to continue living, then let it be. What matters is that you are still alive.”

So long as he doesn't give up.

The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t say anything at first. He stares at your face, likely taking in the details usually hidden by your veil. Why, though? He has seen it plenty of times during your meals together.

You clasp your hands around his. “Take care. May you find your new purpose in life.”

That draws him out of his stupor. He nods, standing up straighter.

“Your kindness will not be forgotten, ______.”

With that, he turns around and walks in the direction of Miseria. You remain in your spot, watching his figure shrink then disappear over the horizon. Not once does he turn around.

Back to your old routine.

The temple is too quiet. The dishes are still in the sink, speckled with crumbs of berry pie. The guilt finally sets in as you pick up the Khaenri’ahn’s—no, Oizys’s plate and clean it.

You put your tableware in the dish rack. Oizys’s is transferred to the cupboard, placed beside the three long-discarded sets.

*✧･

Time passes so slowly these days.

Even before the Khaenri’ahn’s arrival, you began oversleeping without Oizys’s wakeup calls. But with the former gone, you have less reasons to leave your bed.

You still sleep on the right side. You fill the left side with pillows to make the bed feel less empty, but there is no replacement for Oizys’s late-night ramblings. After a few more washes, his scent leaves the mattress.

On Vesta’s birthday, you leave the forest and return to your old territory. Their temple is still standing, but the fire has been extinguished.

At first, you think the empty hearth is a hallucination. You can still vividly recall the moment Vesta’s mangled body burst into fire. Even in death, their soul sought to provide warmth for their followers through everlasting flames.

Even in death, they provided more than what you could ever give.

The statues haven’t fared any better. Your friends’ icons have all crumbled into shards and dust. You don’t care to look for your own scattered fragments.

You visit Sal Terrae next. After greeting Havria’s remains, you run into Morax and exchange a few words with him. You leave immediately afterwards—he is busy overseeing Liyue’s recovery from the Cataclysm, and his nation only reminds you of your once-thriving territories.

That visit is what convinces you to rest. Back home, you clean the entire cemetery; the task takes an entire day without Oizys’s help. You go to bed and only wake up months later for your religious festival.

The forest is the same. Oizys’s grave remains barren.

You greet your followers’ graves. The temple is cleaned and decorated with your old tapestries. As you pick a bouquet of achlys flowers for yourself, the Khaenri’ahn comes to mind.

Is he doing well?

What a stupid question. The fact that he hasn’t returned is a good answer.

You bake a small cake this time, just enough for one person and topped with a ring of candles.

The fire is much dimmer than Vesta’s. What else is different? Your followers would return your greetings. Havria would visit to join the celebration. Pasithea would sing your hymns. Oizys would gift you another blessing of happiness.

You blow out the candles. Smoke curls into the air and mixes with the mist.

“Happy birthday, █████.”

*✧･

You sleep for longer intervals, dedicating a few wakeful days to your friends’ birthdays and the cemetery’s maintenance. The Khaenri’ahn doesn’t return.

Years after his departure, another human wanders into the forest. Her presence awakens you early, and you bring her to your temple upon sensing her wounded state.

Her injuries are severe, and you get blood all over your robes while stitching her wounds. After a brief introduction, she explains her situation.

“Your coworkers did this to you?”

“Yes,” says Alyona. “I tried to leave our organization and was branded a traitor.”

You look at the broken mask in her hands. “Where are you from, dear?”

Her eyes are glossy with tears. “Snezhnaya. Have you heard of the Fatui, miss?”

“I haven’t.”

“That makes sense; it is the new political department of my nation. They aspire to fulfill our Archon’s vision of a perfect world, but the things I’ve seen…”

She stares at her bandaged legs. You pat her back.

“It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

Her expression turns fearful. “No, even if I—the director of the Fatui personally recruited me! He knows who I am. Once he hears about this, he won’t let me escape so easily!”

Poor thing. “And who is he, may I ask?”

She visibly shudders. “I know nothing about him but he called himself Pierro, the Jester. His gaze is terrifying; I’ll see those diamond pupils in my nightmares.”

You stare at her. “His pupils were diamond-shaped?”

“Diamonds,” she confirms. “He doesn’t look like a native of Snezhnaya, but that doesn’t matter. He is devoted to the Tsaritsa; he said it himself.”

She continues describing him. Strong build, pale blue irises, silver hair with a dark streak in it, a refined way of speaking.

“Where is she?!”

You startle. Someone—no, two people have entered the forest. One of them mentions Alyona.

“Miss?” She tugs on the hem of your veil. “I should leave. I can’t put you in danger.”

“The same can be said for you, little one.”

Outside the temple, the mist thickens. You sense the reactions of Alyona’s pursuers.

“Katya? Where did you go?!”

“How did I end up back here?”

There, she should be safe now. You smile at Alyona.

“Don’t worry about me; I’ll keep you safe until you recover. Afterwards, you can take refuge in the nearby city. The locals are kind.”

“Thank you so much, Miss ______!” She wipes her tears and looks around the temple. “Who is this temple dedicated to, anyway?”

“A nameless god,” you reply nonchalantly. “She died a long time ago.”

“That’s too bad. She must’ve been a splendid being if her priestess is this kind.”

“Not really. The world has no more use for her.”

iv. oderint dum metuant

In the years following Alyona’s departure, more Fatui defectors wander into your territory.

You help all of them. In your human guise, you treat their wounds and guide them to Miseria. Their pursuers give up after spending hours lost in your mist.

A few have stories about their leader, be it hearsay or personal anecdotes. Their narratives only provide more evidence that he could be the Khaenri’ahn you saved years ago.

Pierro, the Jester.

So it seems that the Cryo Archon took him in. He must be doing extremely well if he now holds authority over Snezhnaya. Could the Fatui’s objective align with his grudge against Celestia? Is that why he swore loyalty to the Tsaritsa?

You don’t visit Snezhnaya for confirmation. If Pierro is truly your old companion, nothing good will come out of your reunion. You are better off as a memory.

*✧･ﾟ

You sleep for an entire year this time.

Your solo celebrations have become unbearable and none of your friends will call you out for skipping their birthdays.

You do wake up for Oizys’s death anniversary. His grave remains a barren bed in the cemetery; not even your achlys flowers could flourish. The eyes of his statue have cracked, so you cover them with thicker clouds of mist.

Hunger eludes you. After greeting Oizys, you go to the kitchen and keep your tableware in the cupboard. It will only erode if you leave it in the dish rack for another year. Or what about two? Ten? A century, even?

No one will wake you up, anyway.

“______?”

You almost drop your plate. Is that an ex-Fatui acquaintance? You already forbade their visits. Before you can reinforce the mist, the person speaks again.

“█████.”

The plate shatters into pieces. You run out of the temple.

They know your real name.

The voice is familiar. And their location…

The edge of the forest has less achlys flowers these days. Someone is standing under a dead tree. Before you can call out to them, they turn in your direction and make eye contact.

Four-pointed stars.

He is the first to speak. “______, you haven’t changed at all.”

Before you know it, you are running towards him. “It’s you!”

The Khaenri’ahn gives you one of his rare smiles. “It appears that you remember me.”

“How could I not?” You stand in front of him, taking in his appearance. “Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

He looks so different. Neat hairstyle, elegant Snezhnayan clothing, a black mask over the right half of his face. Has his posture improved? His demeanor is dignified, imposing even.

You unconsciously fix your robes. “It’s been so long. What happened to you?”

“I have found a new home in Snezhnaya,” he explains, “and devoted myself to Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. I believe you already know of the Fatui.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” you reply carefully. “You are the first Harbinger, correct?”

His expression turns serious. “You are not mistaken. Along with the title of Jester, I took on a new name. You may address me as Pierro.”

Was his gaze always so intense? It feels as though he is sizing you up.

You look away. “Then I can finally put a name to your face. If I may ask, why the Tsaritsa? I don’t know her personally, but the last thing I expected was for you to pledge loyalty to an Archon.”

“Neither did I,” says Pierro. His voice takes a reverent tone. “Her Majesty understands my pain. Through the Fatui, we will rebel against Celestia and create a new world.”

Your mind flits to Alyona and her successors. How many people will be sacrificed for such a lofty goal? And why do you feel so conflicted? Isn’t this what he wanted?

“I see. Your plan sounds outrageous but it must be promising if you are the one in charge,” you reply, smiling. “You’ve come so far. You should be proud of yourself.”

There is a faint glimmer in his eyes. “Your recognition is paramount.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air. What else can you say to him? Should you invite him to your temple? Why is he taking time out of his schedule to visit you anyway?

Pierro looks around the forest. “Have you been doing well?”

“More or less. Never mind me, I’d like to hear more about your new life.” You lean against the dead tree, twirling the hem of your veil. “So, a rebellion against the divine. How does one go about doing that?”

He takes a step closer to you. “Naturally, it will take years of preparation. In the present, I can see to it that our smaller objectives are accomplished.”

“All right, so what will you do now?”

“I shall overthrow the gods of the Old World, starting with you.”

Pierro slams his hand against the tree, cornering you. His other hand seizes your arm, holding it tightly enough to crush the bones.

“Pierro!” You bite back a cry of pain. “I—what are you doing?!”

Any and all traces of familiarity have left his face.

“█████, you have officially been recognized as a threat to the Fatui,” he declares. “Had you taken a neutral stance, we could have sought diplomatic relations. The assistance you have provided for the Tsaritsa’s traitors, however, cannot be overlooked.”

Of course he knows about Alyona and the others.

The mist swirls around you. Just before you can create a diversion, Pierro strengthens his grip on your arm. An unspoken warning.

You can’t keep the fear out of your voice. “I…what will you do with me?”

Overthrow the gods…will he kill you? But wait, your death could end up like Havria’s or Pasithea’s! You should warn him—

“Nevertheless, your punishment has been reduced by the mercy of Her Majesty.”

Don’t relax yet. He is still holding you. “What do you mean by that?”

Pierro puts his hand under your chin, tilting your face upwards. “What you are, truly, is an archaic god who poses little threat to the Fatui. I inferred as much from my time spent with you. For that reason, I personally pleaded your case.”

You can’t look him in the eye. “Then what exactly is my punishment?”

“I promised the Tsaritsa that I would oversee your subjugation by my side.”

“…Excuse me?”

The look on his face is completely serious. “I came here to bring you to Snezhnaya.”

Your arm shakes within his grasp. “And if I refuse?”

Pierro’s gaze pierces through your veil. “I advise you to be tactful in your decision, lest the city of Miseria be implicated.”

The mist rises.

“What do you mean?! Oizys’s people have nothing to do with this!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are they wholly innocent? They have accepted numerous Fatui defectors regardless of their circumstances. We have yet to deliver retribution to the traitors.”

“No!” You shake your head, tears filling your eyes. “Please don’t—I’ll do anything!”

Your knees hit the ground. You bow your head, allowing the mist to disperse.

“I’ll listen to you! Just don’t hurt them, I beg of you!”

This whole time, you have endangered Oizys’s followers.

Pierro’s voice cuts through the fog clouding your thoughts.

“You astound me, ______. Your compassion knows no bounds, even for those who do not worship you. I now understand why your friend had deemed you soft-hearted.”

You remain in your servile position, staring at the ground. Pierro’s hand returns to your face, gripping it roughly under your veil. His thumb strokes your cheek and catches a stray tear.

How pathetic you must look in his eyes.

It is his next words, spoken in a soft tone, which make you shudder.

“That means you are a worthy soul for the New World.”

*✧･ﾟ

You give up your territory shortly thereafter.

Pierro doesn’t let you return to your temple for any belongings. He simply guides you to the waiting carriage, keeping his hand on your back. The only thing more humiliating than your earlier display of submission are the chains cuffed to your wrists.

You take down the mist before you leave. Without its veil, the forest looks small and unremarkable. Whatever the Fatui does with it, you hope the cemetery will be preserved.

The trip to Snezhnaya is quiet. You say nothing to Pierro when he gives you a coat for the cold climate, neither when he escorts you to Zapolyarny Palace, not even during your introduction to the Tsaritsa.

You understand why he would serve her. The Cryo Archon is a sacrosanct figure and her mere presence makes you shiver. While she regards you with a cold gaze and some curious words, she clearly doesn’t perceive you as an equal.

Neither do you miss Pierro’s reverent attitude towards her. When the Tsaritsa demands your utmost loyalty, it is his gaze which scares you into bowing before her.

Never mind your pride, you are dealing with the god who made his goal possible.

After the tense meeting, you return to the carriage. Snezhnaya is a far cry from your old territory, but the people seem capable of enduring the harsh environment. They have no trouble finding their way in the snow.

Your final destination is Pierro’s estate. You give him a confused look when he identifies the grand manor, but he leads you inside.

The foyer is lined with masked servants. They silently greet Pierro; some curiously glance in your direction. Before anyone can ask, Pierro’s hand moves to your shoulder.

“This is ______,” he announces. “Henceforth, she is the lady of the estate.”

What?

The gasps that echo across the foyer aren’t yours. You can only stare at Pierro, your chains clinking with how quickly you turned to face him.

The serious look on his face is what silences everyone.

Pierro continues speaking but your mind is too foggy to process his words. His hand is still on your shoulder, a visible confirmation of his earlier statement. The unanimous “Yes, Lord Harbinger!” is what draws you back into reality.

The servants disperse. Only two women remain.

Pierro lets go of your shoulder. “I expect Lady ______ to be ready by dinnertime.”

They bow. “Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

He lightly pushes you in their direction. You hesitantly follow them, feeling his gaze on your back until you disappear up the stairs. The handmaidens lead you to a lavish bedroom.

Your own chambers. How considerate.

The shorter handmaiden takes out a key and unlocks your chains. They work quickly, cleaning you in the en suite bathroom then dressing you up. The wardrobe is fully stocked with elegant dresses, all in Snezhnayan fashion. The blue diamond jewelry looks familiar.

You don’t protest as they alter an ornate gown and help you into it. Neither do you cast a glance at your old robes discarded on the floor. They let you keep your veil, at least.

*✧･ﾟ

Pierro is already seated at the dining table when you enter.

“Your new attire befits you,” is all he says.

The handmaidens close the door behind you. You walk over to the empty chair.

Fancy tableware, gourmet food, a banquet table with more distance between the chairs.

“Thank you,” you reply bitterly, sitting down. “Is that all you have to say? Because I have so many questions for you.”

His gaze is still trained on you. “You may speak.”

“All right, where do I start?” You lift your veil, exposing your face. “I didn’t expect this kind of prison. And what did you call me earlier? I’ve had my fair share of admirers, but none were so brazen as to pursue a god.”

Your jewelry twinkles under the bright light. It matches Pierro’s diamond accessories.

His face betrays no emotion. “Make no mistake, your previous act of kindness had no bearing on my decision to save your life. You may find it to your benefit to respect your savior.”

What a charming word. “Of course, I’d hate to be a nuisance.”

You sample your soup. It tastes like borscht.

Pierro just watches you. The tension in the room is thick, so unlike your previous meals together. You aren’t in the mood for any idle conversation.

“Why am I here, Pierro?” You put down your spoon and sit back in your chair. “I can’t imagine why a prisoner of the Fatui should have such luxurious accommodations or a status like the Jester’s…partner.”

“And what were your expectations?” he asks.

“To be kept in a cell. To have my powers utilized for your organization. To be, I don’t know, treated like a pawn.”

His gaze remains unfathomable. “Was I not clear with my intentions? You are meant for the New World, so I intend to keep you safe until our objective is achieved.”

“And it just so happens that only you can fulfill the role of my warden.” You rest your head on your palm, eyes wide. “You have truly surprised me.”

What use could the New World possibly have for you?

Another uncomfortable silence. Both servings of soup are left untouched.

It is Pierro who speaks again.

“You will not be without basic needs or comfort, so long as you listen to me. Regarding your current lodgings, I will confess that it is a reciprocation of your kindness. But that is all there is to it—never forget that you would be dead if not for me.”

The diamonds in his eyes shine bright with resolution.

“Rest assured, the Fatui will not make a pawn out of you,” he continues. “From this day forth, you are liberated from your divine burden.”

You belatedly realize just how far you have fallen. Stripped of your divine attire, trapped in a foreign nation, left to the mercy of a powerful human.

Likewise, any act of defiance would only make the Tsaritsa doubt her trust in him.

“I see. Thank you, I think I have a clearer idea of my situation.”

Your appetite is nonexistent, but you force yourself to eat. The sound of metal scraping against porcelain comes only from your side of the table.

“Is the food to your satisfaction?”

You stare at your bowl. “The borscht is too sweet.”

“I will tell the chef to rectify their mistake.” After a short pause, Pierro adds, “Are you still fond of cooking?”

“Not really. I lost my passion for it a long time ago.”

“That is a shame,” he says. “You were quite adept with the knife.”

v. nitimur in vetitum semper, cupimusque negata

Pierro wasn’t lying about the reality of your prison. It takes a while to adjust to your new routine, however.

Each morning, your handmaidens wake you up early for breakfast. Your meals with Pierro remain tense; he initiates most of the conversations.

After breakfast, he leaves for Zapolyarny Palace while you remain in the manor. You have no one to interact with, given the servants’ fearful dispositions, but he is gracious enough to give you a new pastime.

“You expect me to study?”

Your desk is stacked high with books. Judging by the titles, most of them pertain to the history and culture of Snezhnaya.

Pierro takes another book off the shelf. “Did you expect a life of nothing but luxury? You have lived an idle life for the previous centuries, ______, but your archaic knowledge will prove irrelevant for the New World.”

And to think you had originally been in awe of his private library. You slump in your chair, frowning at the written worksheets.

“You are absolutely cruel.”

He gives you a stern look. “Do not think you can feign studying. Your handmaidens will supervise you to ensure your proper education.”

You glance at the two women standing by the door. What must be going through their heads right now? Did their job description prepare them for sights like this?

“And do you expect me to study all day?” you ask.

“Once you finish your studies, you may do whatever you like so long as you do not leave the estate. You need only read the introductions today.”

Honestly, he should’ve just left you to rot in a prison cell.

Pierro’s hand rests on your shoulder. “Your mental enrichment will be instrumental to your adjustment.”

He leaves the library.

Shaking your head, you open the first book. The history of Snezhnayan technology turns out to be an interesting topic, and you quickly move on to the corresponding worksheet. Aside from an enumeration quiz, there is a section for subjective questions. You mull over your answers and explain your stance.

An opportunity for psychoanalysis, perhaps. At least the political propaganda is tolerable.

Most of your free time is dedicated to naps. The manor is too warm for the natural formation of ordinary mist, while the outdoor mist is quick to freeze. The only personalized item in your bedchambers is an embroidery kit.

So he remembered another hobby of yours.

You think of Pierro’s finely-tailored suits. The style is a world away from his old Khaenri’ahn attire. Has he disposed of his old garments?

Pierro usually returns from work in time for dinner. After another tense meal, he retires to his private office. Unless he invites you over for conversation or chess games, you return to the solitude of your bedchambers.

You sleep in the middle of the bed.

*✧･ﾟ

After a few months, Pierro allows you to leave the manor for the first time.

Zapolyarny Palace is as chilly as you remember. You don’t know why he brought you with him to begin with—he just banishes you to the sofa with your books and embroidery.

…He looks hard at work. Every time you peek at him, he is writing reports at his desk or speaking with a subordinate.

Thankfully, you don’t have to greet the Tsaritsa. You do pass by the Doctor’s laboratory on the way out, only to be startled by a chorus of crazed screams and hypnotic singing.

You stop in your tracks but Pierro quickly leads you away from Dottore’s wing.

Your next destination is a town square. The visit is more of a formal tour than a leisurely stroll, and the bustling activity ceases upon Pierro’s arrival. Still, you obediently walk by his side.

“Is that the Jester?!”

“Who is his companion?”

“Their veil suits the Fatui’s masks, doesn’t it?”

“Her expression looks quite solemn.”

He doesn’t pay the whispers any attention, so you do the same. The Snezhnayan crowd isn’t here for you.

A few people catch your eye. You pause and wave at them, offering a friendly smile.

Pierro’s hand presses down on your back.

The smile leaves your face. You don’t need to turn around to know that he is glaring at you—or is it the people you’d waved at? They look frozen with fear.

“Sorry,” you mutter, looking ahead.

The both of you continue walking.

*✧･ﾟ

Pierro leaves for a mission in Mondstadt. You remain in the estate.

Without him, the days are monotonous but easygoing. You eat your meals in peace and accomplish your studies. In your second week, you make an unlikely friend.

“My lady?”

You look up from your embroidery hoop. “Yes?”

The shorter handmaiden points at the half-finished design. “What flower is this?”

Where is her coworker? This is the first time a servant has approached you on their own volition.

“Pasithea,” you reply, tracing the blue and violet threads. “It’s…a special flower which grows in only two areas of Teyvat.”

“It must be beautiful.” She glances at your finished pieces. “Your needlework is exquisite, my lady. Are you preferential to any designs?”

“Not really. Would you like to suggest one?”

She smiles. “What about a snowflake?”

Her change in disposition is welcoming. She almost reminds you of your last priestess Charis. She was always quick to suggest designs for her new robes.

“What is your name, dear?”

“Eva,” she replies brightly, “and my coworker is named Anya. Please excuse her absence today; she caught a cold.”

“Send her my regards.” You smile, straightening your veil. “And thank you for your earlier compliment. It’s been a while since someone has praised my craft.”

She tilts her head. “You are quite nice, my lady. No offense but given your introduction, none of us know what to think of you.”

“None taken,” you laugh. “Honestly, I was just as surprised as all of you.”

How long until Pierro returns? Didn’t he say two months at minimum?

“I’m suddenly craving Brightcrown tea. Could you please prepare some for me?”

“Oh, sure!” Eva walks over to the door. “I’ll be right back, my lady.”

You might as well take advantage of this opportunity.

The needle pricks your thumb. You wave your hand, allowing the blood to evaporate into mist. It swirls around the room and dissipates into the air.

One room down. It would be more effective if you use your thurible, but you shouldn’t doubt the staff’s perceptiveness. You’ll have to settle for just a little blood and dominion.

If only this territory was meant for their safety, not yours.

“My lady? Your tea will be brought here shortly.”

Eva is back. You hide your thumb, squeezing the wound to extract more mist.

“Thank you, dear. May I have a tour of the estate later?”

vi. amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus

The remainder of Pierro’s mission is enjoyable. Eva and Anya are wonderful companions, and they introduce you to a few other servants. You chat with them often.

Your mist only claims part of the estate. Several rooms are locked with no gaps under the doors, including Pierro’s personal quarters. You do manage to sneak a few drops of blood through the keyhole of his private office.

The information gained is useless. You can only hear fragments of the servants’ chatter, mainly gossip about you or praise for your captor. They keep talking about the many benefits the Fatui provided for their hometowns, from new technology to public hearths.

At least he has made their lives easier.

You do hear about Pierro’s return ahead of time. The servants are agitated but not so much as you. You remind Eva and Anya to keep your camaraderie a secret.

He finds out, anyway.

“Your handmaidens have been terminated from their position.”

“What?”

You look up immediately. Pierro remains focused on the chessboard.

“I also dismissed two other servants,” he says, moving a pawn. “Starting tomorrow, their replacements will attend to your needs.”

“But why?”

His gaze is sharp. “I was informed that they had overstepped their boundaries. It is unprofessional for a servant to be overly friendly with the lady of the estate, much less request embroidery pieces and assistance in the kitchen.”

“That—I insisted on it!” Your hands shake, chess game forgotten.

Eva, Anya, those young cooks. All jobless because of you.

Your vision turns blurry. “Could you at least transfer them to another building or give them letters of recommendation?”

He sighs. “You are too kind for your own good, ______. What would you have done if those servants sought to take advantage of you?”

“They’re good people,” you insist, blinking back tears.

“Perhaps you are right. To which their own righteousness could have been manipulated for your personal gain.”

You glare at him. “I don’t plan to escape if that’s what you are thinking. I have nowhere to go and Miseria would be in danger.”

“Even so.” Pierro glances at your clenched fists. “Remember where your loyalties lie.”

You glance at your thumb. The wound has long healed, and your mist is currently down. You’d take this opportunity to claim Pierro’s office but he would surely notice.

“So what do you expect me to say? I understand? I’m sorry? Thank you for looking out for my safety?”

He remains unfazed by your anger. “Whatever you’d like to say. Your countenance already reveals much of your sentiments.”

“Well then.” You stand up, adjusting your veil. “What would you like to hear from me?”

There is a new medal on the wall, another personal accomplishment on display.

“Shall I sing you praises?” you ask, bowing. “Show my utmost gratitude?”

Pierro just watches you, a judgemental look on his face.

How did your last followers act in their throes of madness? It was sickening to witness.

You kneel on the floor, hands clasped together. “O, Lord Pierro, I humbly thank you for saving an undeserving creature such as myself! Had it not been for your benevolence, I would have been doomed to a life of sorrow. Your greatness is unparalleled. You have brought glory to Snezhnaya. The Tsaritsa—”

“That is enough.”

The anger in his tone is undeniable. You almost flinch from his glare.

“Cease these foolish theatrics at once,” he snarls. “It would do you well to remember that Her Majesty’s name shall not be disrespected.”

“My apologies.” Despite the shiver running down your spine, you bat your eyelashes innocently. “Shall I exclude her name and continue?”

His eyes flash. “Even a court jester has more wit about them. Sit back down.”

“Gladly.” You return to your chair, wiping the dust off your skirt. A smug smile crosses your face as you analyze the chessboard.

Your king is in a tight spot. Pierro meets your gaze, challenging you.

“Draw?” he asks.

You shake your head and make your next move.

*✧･ﾟ

Pierro wins the chess game. Nonetheless, you are quite satisfied with the results.

Your new handmaidens are more formal with you. For their sake, you avoid any sort of unnecessary interaction with them. The estate is rife with gossip following the dismissal of the old servants, and you disperse the mist. You don’t want to think about them.

With no one to appreciate your embroidery, you take to roaming the estate in your free time. The manor is extravagant for two residents and most of the rooms are vacant. During one stroll, you find a half-open door near Pierro’s bedchambers.

Isn’t this room usually locked?

“My lady, where are you going? We’re forbidden—”

You smile at your handmaiden. “Did the Jester permit you to restrain me, Esfir? If he finds out about this, I’ll gladly vouch for your innocence.”

She turns to her coworker, exasperated. “Karine, call Alec. That careless idiot…”

You go inside.

The room is dark. Opening the curtains, you find what looks like several furniture pieces covered in sheets. The locked bookcase holds ancient books and scrolls.

You uncover one item and promptly lock the door.

“My lady!” Esfir bangs on the door. “What are you doing?”

You return to the unveiled statue, hands trembling. The figure’s translucent veil and swaying thurible are flawlessly sculpted. The marble is cracked but polished to perfection.

Isn’t this your statue from Vesta’s temple?

You uncover the other items. To your horror, all of them comprise your old religious art. Broken statues, deteriorated paintings, ceremonial relics. So many images of you.

Calm down, it could be worse. The items are hidden in this room, not displayed for worship. Pierro probably stole these to erase your remaining influence. But why didn’t he just destroy them? Why is the artwork well-preserved? Why are there so many?

You can’t stand looking at those faces. They are too serene, too divine, too deceptive.

You cover the items and leave the room. Esfir and Karine surround you, along with a terrified-looking servant.

“My lady, did you—!”

You close the door behind you. “Alec, dear? Do you normally clean these items?”

He tenses. “I only dust the covers and the room. Lord Pierro forbade me from unveiling the items, lest I be…laid off like my predecessor.”

“I see.” You smile at him through your veil. “Lock the door properly next time, okay? If you aren’t careful, these items could be destroyed beyond repair one day.”

Pierro makes no mention of his secret collection later that evening, but you notice more locks installed on the doors. Despite your best efforts, Alec is fired.

*✧･ﾟ

Oizys’s birthday rolls around.

You sit by the window overlooking the garden. The estate grounds are a paradise of white snow and Snezhnayan flora. There are no berry bushes in sight.

At this hour, his festival in Miseria must’ve begun. You should be preparing for his private party right now. He always came home early for your berry shortcake.

The curtain is pulled over the window.

“How long do you plan to stare outside?”

Great, he’s here.

“Good morning.” You make no move to leave the armchair. “Why are you here?”

The door to your bedchambers is open. Esfir and Karine are gone.

Pierro rests his hand on the back of the chair. “Breakfast should have begun ages ago. Your handmaidens claim that you refuse to cooperate.”

They must be terrified right now. “I’m sorry, they tried their best. I’ll go now.”

“Are you thinking of the Child of Night?”

“...How do you know?”

He evades your question. “Your sorrow has not diminished in the slightest. Grieving his loss will not bring your friend back to life.”

You grip the armrest. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

“I can imagine what other thoughts are plaguing your mind,” he replies. He turns to face you, gaze somber. “However you may spin his tale, what remains certain is that you were faultless in his death.”

He’s wrong. “I know.”

Your doubt must be obvious because Pierro wraps his hand around your arm.

“What killed the Child of Night was his own foolishness,” he insists. “You may call yourself weak, unkind, cowardly even, but it was your conviction that spared you from his fate.”

Is he trying to make you feel better or worse?

“Will you please stop it?” you whisper. “I don’t want your pity right now.”

His grip on your arm tightens. “You misjudge my sentiments.”

“Really now?” You raise your head, glaring at him. “Because you have been doing a fine job at courting me, assuming that I have not misinterpreted my new title.”

Someone like you has no place by his side.

“It would be easier if you just hated me,” you mutter, blinking back tears. “At least then I would have a proper punishment.”

An audible sigh. “Such cynicism is rather unbecoming of your kindness.”

He lifts your veil.

Your eyes widen. “What are you—”

“Silence.”

The air feels cold against your face. The hand on your arm moves to your chin, tilting your face upwards. Pierro leans closer and you can only stare back at him, frozen in place.

Nothing about his gaze is condescending.

His lips press against yours.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Mist rises from the corners of the room and you hastily disperse it. Before you can fully process the soft sensation, he pulls away.

“Y-You…” The words won’t leave your mouth. “How dare…!”

“Are my intentions clearer?” Pierro gently brushes his thumb against your cheek, wiping away your tears.

You can’t answer. Your heart is racing and it takes everything to hide the mist from him. You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the armrest with all of your strength.

Just as abruptly as he kissed you, Pierro lets go of you and lowers your veil.

“I must leave for work,” he says. His voice resumes its authoritative tone. “I will tell the chef to cook a warm breakfast for you later.”

With that, he leaves the room. The door closes behind him.

How dare he.

Mist swirls around the bedchambers. You wipe your mouth and cover your face, bunching up your veil in your hands. The warmth in your cheeks is internal.

…Despite your mortification, the fluttery feeling in your chest is not unwelcome.

vii. dulce est desipere in loco

Pierro doesn’t acknowledge his kiss later that evening.

In the subsequent days, he works longer hours. The two of you eat separate meals. Your conversations and chess games are halted. The servants’ gossip provides no insight into his change in behavior.

What is he up to?

You answer another worksheet, taking note of the date written on the top corner. Has it been this long since your capture? Since moving to Snezhnaya, the days have felt longer and more memorable.

“______.”

“Oh, why are you here?”

This is the first time he has visited you during your study sessions. Judging by the clock, he must have finished work early.

Pierro picks up one of your finished worksheets. “What an interesting opinion.”

You tilt your head. “You think so? I just wrote what was on my mind.”

In all honesty, the subjective portion is quite engaging. Occasionally, the questions are direct responses to your answers from previous tests, as though your tutor—Pierro himself?—is indirectly challenging you.

He turns to Esfir and Karine. “Lady ______ and I will eat an early dinner. You may tidy up the library and retire to the servants’ quarters.”

“Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

You hesitantly stand up. “What is the occasion?”

He places his hand on the small of your back. “Why don’t you find out?”

The hallway is quiet. You match Pierro’s pace, casting a few glances at him. He stares ahead with a neutral expression, intentions hidden. What is so important about this dinner that he must personally escort you?

He opens the double doors.

Achlys flowers.

Every vase in the room is filled with white flower spikes and large trifoliate leaves. Tapestries hang from the walls, restored to their vibrant colors.

“I…” You clap a hand over your mouth. “What is…?”

Pierro silently takes hold of your wrist and leads you inside.

Your chairs are positioned side-by-side this time. The table is set with familiar food—your favorites, all cooked and presented in your usual style. A large bouquet of achlys flowers rests on one placemat.

You lift your veil. “My eyes aren’t deceiving me, right? How did you find out?”

He pulls out the chair for you. “Why not take your place at the banquet?”

Words fail you. You sit down and pick up the bouquet. The achlys flowers are perfectly fresh, tied with ribbons in your religious color.

In the center of the table is a large cake topped with glowing candles.

“It pleases me to see that my research was fruitful.” Pierro takes his seat and faces you, a familiar smile on his face. “Happy birthday, ______.”

That is the last straw. You burst into tears.

You can’t stop crying. Tears roll down your cheeks, drip onto your skirt, soak into Pierro’s suit when he hugs you. He feels warm.

“I suggest that you cease your crying,” he murmurs. “The food will go cold.”

“Quiet,” you sniffle. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Making sure that this is real. “You can’t just surprise me like this and expect me to react calmly!”

It takes a few more minutes for the tears to stop. You reluctantly let go of Pierro, closing your eyes when his fingertips brush against your damp cheeks.

To think that he of all people would be the one to make you this happy.

The birthday candles are still lit. The flames dance in the air, brighter than any fire you’ve seen before. You blow out the candles and the flames extinguish into thin curls of smoke.

“It’s been so long since I last enjoyed my birthday,” you mutter. You slump in your chair, watching the last traces of smoke disappear. “I almost forgot just how old I am.”

What kind of life have you been living up to now?

Pierro cuts the cake and gives you a slice. The flavor is bittersweet yet familiar. It brings to mind a memory of you chastising him in your kitchen for messing up the same recipe.

You put down your spoon, feeling more tears spring to your eyes. “This is all too much for one person, you know.”

He side-eyes you. “I believe that such splendor is to be expected for a god’s festival.”

“Oh, please.” You shake your head, smiling. “You deserve a grander celebration for your own birthday. If there is one thing you humans have over us gods, it is your ability to accomplish so much within your short lifespans. Compared to you…I never did enough.”

“I care not for such festivities,” he replies, holding your hand, “and I must say that you are gravely mistaken regarding your own personal significance.”

There is something so tender about his words. His other hand cups the side of your face, beckoning you to meet his gaze. Those four-pointed stars seem to peer into your soul, shining brighter than any celestial being in the sky.

“If there is one good thing which came out of your life, it was saving mine.”

Your heart twists in your chest. Try as you might, you can’t look away.

“I…I see.” Your hand shakes within his grasp. You want nothing more than to pull your veil over your face.

He knows just the right words to win people over.

This time, it’s you who prolongs the chaste kiss he gives you. It’s you who intertwines your fingers together. It’s you who whimpers when he pulls away. To your frustration, he remains mostly unfazed but the look in his eyes doesn’t lie.

How long has it been since you last enjoyed physical intimacy? What about him?

Oh well, you could play the fool for one night.

“Well, Pierro, this has been an impressive festival,” you tell him, smirking. “But where is my offering? Did you think a paltry kiss would suffice?”

“Oh?” He holds your gaze, eyes darkened. “According to the ancient records, only the divine friends of the God of Mist were expected to provide gifts. I presumed myself to be an exception to this tradition.”

“You disappoint me. But don’t worry, you can make up for it right now.”

The corners of his mouth tilt upwards. “And what exactly do you desire from me?”

You lay a hand on his chest. The pale blue diamonds of his necktie twinkle under the light, dimmer than his eyes.

“I believe you know exactly what I want,” you reply. Wispy gray marks travel up your limbs and around your eyes. “Are you up for the challenge?”

You aren’t even given a few seconds before Pierro clutches your waist and pulls you into another kiss, stealing your breath. His other hand cups the back of your head and pulls off your veil.

“Very well,” he says. “I might as well oblige you.”

*✧･ﾟ

You are never underestimating humans ever again.

The room is dark. If you close your eyes, you can imagine yourself within a void. The Abyss, maybe. Any lovely dark place where your debauchery could go unacknowledged.

Offering? You were referring to your own birthday gift, right? So why did you end up feeling like one for your captor?

Pierro lightly shakes you. “______, have you fallen asleep?”

“No, I haven’t,” you reply quickly. You turn your head in his direction, chest heaving. “I’m just exhausted.”

The complacent gleam in his eyes is absolutely maddening. Even with his mask off, his face is both familiar and different. The way he looks at you is earnest yet far from reverent.

Is this the same person you saved all those years ago? How can the voice which once weakly cried for help whisper such degrading things in your ear?

You raise your arm to inspect your wrist. Dark bruises mix with the wispy marks, from when he pinned you to the bed. Combined with the warm ache in your abdomen and knees…

You feel utterly desecrated.

Pierro holds you tightly, turning your body to face him. Loose strands of silver hair fall over his face. Familiar scars litter his bare skin, including those you’d healed.

“We missed dinner,” he murmurs. “Would you like to eat something later? It would be a waste of the banquet preparations.”

His gaze makes you shrink. Where in the world is your veil?

You sit up. “No, I’m fine. We can eat it tomorrow.”

Somehow, the thought of your party leftovers doesn’t feel unappetizing at all.

Pierro’s mask and your veil are on the night-table, along with your diamond jewelry. Your dress should be somewhere on the floor.

He grips your arm. “Where are you going?”

You sheepishly face him, wincing at the light pressure. “Going to my room. To sleep.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Stay.”

“...All right.”

His bed is soft. You return to his arms and rest your head on the pillow, giving in to your exhaustion. He’s saying something. Something kind, judging by his tone. Your name.

The left side of the bed is comfortable.

viii. flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo

Your relationship has improved since your birthday.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve become more resigned to your captivity. It’s so easy to ignore the reality of your situation when you feel so happy.

Pierro has been kinder to you. Beneath his strict exterior, you’ve been seeing more traces of your old companion. The proximity between your chairs remains close and you permanently move to his bedchambers. Your conversations have become more intimate.

“Am I allowed to be this happy?”

“What do you mean?”

Pierro looks up from the chessboard. You move another piece.

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “It’s just…you really don’t want me to do anything for you? You’re just going to keep me around for the New World?”

He moves a black queen this time. “I told you before: Your former status is no longer a concern. There is no need for you to question your place by my side.”

“I know but—” You shake your head and focus on the game. “Never mind.”

Pierro clearly isn’t satisfied with that response. Feeling the weight of his gaze, you adjust your veil. He didn’t suspect anything from your recent Flower Ball embroidery, but your puffy eyes will be an obvious hint to Havria’s birthday.

Your king is cornered again. As you move a pawn, the door slams open.

“Lord Harbinger! There has been an emergency!”

A Fatui officer rushes inside, followed by two frantic maids. Surprised, you slide the pawn to the wrong square and knock over a few chess pieces.

The air grows cold.

“I do not recall permitting an audience with you, Lieutenant Dominik.”

Even you flinch in response. Despite his composure, Pierro’s irritation is evident. The fearful “We tried to stop him!” of the maids affirms that.

Dominik kneels on the floor. “Forgive me, my lord! But this is an urgent matter!”

Pierro turns to the maids. “Escort Lady ______ to our bedchambers.”

“Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

“Pierro.” You turn to him, hesitantly leaving the sofa. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I will see you once this matter is settled,” is all he tells you, staring down your unwelcome visitor. “I expect more competence from an informant of your ranking, Lieutenant.”

Dominik shudders, remaining in their kneeling position. You follow the maids out of his private office and into the hallway. Just as they close the door, you hear their voices.

“The Child of Ni—”

“Silence.”

What?

“My lady?” One of the maids—Sofia, you think—turns to you. “We must go.”

“Of course.” You cast a final glance at the door before you begin walking. “Thank you.”

Were they going to say ‘Night’? They couldn’t possibly be talking about him, could they?

The bedchambers are quiet. The maids leave you inside and close the door. You lie in bed, staring at the empty space next to you. You can trust Pierro…right?

Just in case, you wave your hand and imagine the private office. Soon enough, you hear two voices. Soft, fragmented, but audible.

“...divine karma…many afflicted.”

“...send more troops…Miseria.”

Did Pierro just mention Oizys’s city? Why would he still care about Miseria?

You continue listening.

“Bad…cursed. Misery, misfortune…”

“...remains? Dispirited soldiers…assured victories.”

Misery, misfortune…why are they discussing Oizys’s divine ability? What does it have to do with warfare? And what did they mean about karmic debt?

Your nails dig into the mattress.

“...others? Archon Residue…”

“The Doctor sent a report…early stages.”

“Inform me…public hearths were…exceptional fire.”

“...singing. Hallucinations have…”

The taste of metal invades your mouth but you continue to bite down on your lip.

They could only be talking about Vesta and Pasithea. And what’s this about Archon Residue and the Doctor’s involvement?!

Vesta’s extinguished fire. The strange singing you heard from the Second Harbinger’s laboratory. Their discussion of Oizys’s curse and victory.

…

Has the Fatui been using your friends’ remains this whole time?

Blood trickles down your chin. With a shaky hand, you wipe it clean and turn to the right side of the bed. Would he really do this after everything you told him?

The voices suddenly sound clearer. Have they moved closer to the door?

“Where are you going, my lord?”

“I will summon a maid. The humidity level in the room has suddenly risen.”

Pierro leaves the office.

*✧･ﾟ

“It appears that my suspicions were not unfounded.”

Pierro is straight to the point. You rise from the bed, glaring at his figure in the doorway.

On the blanket, a smear of blood evaporates into mist.

“How long have you known?”

“I’ve had my suspicions,” he replies, glaring. “How much of our conversation did you overhear?”

“Enough to give myself away, clearly,” you reply, gripping the bedpost. “So tell me, what is so urgent about Miseria that Lieutenant Dominik came here without permission?”

They specifically mentioned divine karma. Does this mean that Oizys…?

“There is no use in concealing information from you,” he sighs. “In summary, your former territory and the city of Miseria have been beset with curses in the previous months. We presume it to be the lingering resentment of the Child of Night.”

“And why is that?”

Pierro crosses his arms. “There have been sightings of a demon in your cemetery. It bears a striking resemblance to the religious imagery of your deceased friend.”

“I see,” you reply, gritting your teeth, “and what will you do to him?”

“That is confidential information.”

“Oh, really?” Your voice rises in volume, as does the mist on the blanket. “I think I have every right to know about Oizys and your other secrets. Tell me, what have you done with my friends’ remains?”

There is zero remorse on his face. “If you are pertaining to the Lord of the Hearth and the Goddess of Consciousness, then you can already deduce my answer.”

“How dare you!”

Mist swirls around the room, heavy and thick, but Pierro manages to cross the room towards you. You raise your arm but he catches it quickly.

“I advise you to be rational,” he snaps. “The Child of Night is dead. Whatever is prowling in your former territory is no longer your friend.”

“Don’t touch me!”

Your attempt to raise the mist is dashed as Pierro pins you to the bed. He grips your wrists with enough force to make you panic.

“Is this what you will do with me eventually?” you shout. Hot tears flow down the sides of your face. “Do you intend to make an instrument out of me as well?!”

Stupid. Not even Havria was this trustful.

“You already know how their deaths affected me, that their graves were still important to me! How could you—”

You struggle some more, only to shriek when Pierro strengthens his grip.

“I advise that you remember your place,” he says coldly, removing your veil and setting it aside. “Though your soul is worthy for the New World, even you are not safe from my scorn.”

“I don’t want to hear that right now! I’ve had enough of you and the Tsari—!”

A resounding pop interrupts you, followed by your pained scream. The only thing more excruciating than your sprained wrist is the sensation of Pierro’s fingertips wiping your tears.

“As I said, no harm will come to you so long as you are loyal to Her Majesty,” he tells you. “Your friends have long fallen, and your personal sentiments offer little insight into the importance of preserving their memory.”

“You…” Your voice is reduced to pathetic whimpers. “I…I thought I…”

Those diamond pupils hold your gaze, cold and unforgiving. “That is final.”

You should have left him to die that day.

The mist recedes.

*✧･ﾟ

You return to your old bedchambers.

The doors and windows are locked. Your embroidery kit is confiscated along with the needles. Esfir and Karine visit you with your study material and meals on a tray, but you reject most of them. It takes a while to readjust to your empty bed.

You don’t see much of Pierro in the following days. He spends less time in the estate to evade your supervision, and the servants’ gossip is hushed. You receive no more news on Oizys and your friends’ remains.

Your wrist is treated. The ice pack numbs your pain but it barely helps. You can’t forget the ruthless look on Pierro’s face when he hurt you.

You’ve never felt more angry with yourself.

Why did you let him do all of this to begin with? Out of fear or pity? Because his dreams of the New World trumped your own worthless existence?

You could spite him. Fall asleep for a century…or more? As the Tsaritsa’s underling, he is probably granted immortality. Perhaps you shouldn’t wake up at all.

But Oizys is still out there.

“Karine?”

She puts down the breakfast tray. “Yes, my lady?”

Esfir also turns to you, bandages in hand.

“When is the Jester returning from his mission?” you ask.

They exchange looks. “We are not allowed to share that information.”

“All right. Could you at least give this to him when he returns?” You give Karine a signed envelope, wincing at the pain radiating from your wrist.

“Of course, my lady. We will do so immediately.”

“Thank you for everything,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry.”

A ball of mist hovers under your palm, accompanied by flecks of light.

“My lady, what are you—!”

Your thurible is pristine from years of disuse. You quickly open it and swipe your palm through the built-in blade. Blood spills into the censer.

Dark clouds emanate from your Catalyst, obscuring the room and filtering through the keyhole. Esfir and Karine rush towards you, only to disappear into the mist. You raise the mist in the manor, hearing their screams in the hallway along with their coworkers’.

“Where am I?”

“How did we end up in the kitchen?!”

“I can’t reach the foyer!”

“Inform Lord Pierro at once!”

Their panic is unbearable. You can sense every scream, every frantic movement, every cry for help. But this time, you must resist the urge to help them.

The window is next. It takes a few tries but your thurible finally smashes the glass.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat to the empty bedroom.

The servants will be fine. The mist will disappear in a few days, or perhaps earlier if you are slain first. Then the manor will be free from your dominion. Your signed letter will prove their innocence.

You swing your thurible, smiling. What will the Fatui make out of you, you wonder? A special weapon? A tool to spy on their enemies? Or maybe they will keep you alive to harvest your blood for the rest of eternity.

That doesn’t matter. It is only fair after all that you’ve survived.

ix. memento vivere

Miseria has fallen.

Your brief inspection is devastating. The Fatui has taken control over the city. The historic temple has been replaced with a church for the Tsaritsa. The people are consumed with misery and anxiety, likening their misfortune to a divine curse.

You almost cannot believe it. Oizys’s punishments were never this harsh.

You advance to your old territory before any Fatui officers notice you. After subduing so many pursuers, you already feel the strain from using your powers. Your thurible had to be refilled numerous times.

Your territory is even more unrecognizable. In your absence, the forest has been converted to a facility site. A Snezhnayan-style building stands in the place of your temple. The pasithea flowers have died out.

Surprisingly, the achlys flowers have multiplied. Fields of white flower spikes grow amongst the remaining flora in stark contrast to the unburied corpses.

So many masked humans. Did Oizys kill all of them?

A thick miasma of divine karma permeates the area, growing stronger as you approach the cemetery. Several graves have been excavated, leaving gaping holes in the ground. The two statues are missing.

A dark figure stands over an empty grave, holding a bloody Claymore.

“Oizys?”

He turns around. “█████?!”

The divine karma is so oppressive. You remain in your spot, but Oizys closes the distance and captures you in a tight hug. You nearly collapse from the miasma.

“It’s…is it really you?” you whisper.

A large smile cuts his shadowy face. “Who else?”

He feels so cold.

You pull away, processing the sight before you. This isn’t the body you cleaned and buried all those years ago. It is incorporeal, hazy at the edges, marred with bleeding wounds. Instead of his death suit, he is wearing his bloody robes with ruined embroidery.

You never wanted to see his mutilated corpse ever again.

No, you shouldn’t think that. This is still Oizys.

Pain throbs from your sprained wrist. You look down to find him touching your bandages.

“█████.” He grips your wrist tightly. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” you reply quickly, slipping out of his grasp. “Listen, you’re in serious danger. I don’t know if there’s a way for you to leave but—”

“Leave?” He stares at you with bloodshot eyes. “I come back and you’re gone, not a trace of mist left. The next thing I know, these masked Snezhnayans take over, destroying your temple and the cemetery! And you expect me to leave after all that?”

The miasma is overwhelming. Unsettled, you take a step back.

He doesn’t notice. “And do you know what I found in my own city? Those ungrateful ants worshiping the Cryo Archon as though I had never existed!”

You shake your head vehemently. “Oizys, don’t take it out on your people. They—”

“Is this how you felt?” he laughs bitterly, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I knew it. I shouldn’t have accepted your followers back then. I should have punished them for you.”

“You can’t say that!” you exclaim. “Think about it clearly; it’s one thing to harm the Fatui but they were all innocent!”

There is a murderous look in his eyes.

“Oh, █████,” he frowns. “Have you learned nothing from how humanity abused your kindness? How they abandoned you and killed our friends?”

He’s wrong. “That…I couldn’t provide for them or fulfill my duty!”

“Those wretched creatures caused our suffering!”

His voice cracks on the last word. Oizys coughs up black smoke and you immediately approach him, only for him to step back.

“Forget it,” he snaps. “It’s useless to convince you.”

“Says the person who joined a war and gained nothing from killing what must’ve been several civilians! At least I’m still alive,” you shoot back.

“Well, I wouldn’t have died if you had joined me.”

What did he just say?

The miasma intensifies. When Oizys raises his head, there is only disdain in his eyes.

“Among our friends, why did it have to be you?” he whispers. “Maybe things would have turned out differently if someone else survived.”

“Oizys.” Tears fill your eyes. “You…you don’t really mean that, do you?”

This isn’t right. This isn’t how it usually goes. It should be you saying that and him assuring you otherwise. If even he believes that, what else can you think?

His gaze flits from your wrist to your neck. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Did those humans hurt you? Why are you wearing a foreign necklace?”

Your necklace? You look down, belatedly realizing that you are still wearing your necklace from Pierro. The pale blue diamonds twinkle in the fading light.

“Wait.” He touches the pendant under your veil. “I’ve seen this style before; it’s not from Snezhnaya. The design, the material…”

“Hey, not too close.” You try to step away but he keeps a firm grip on the chain.

“Is this from Khaenri’ah?”

You can’t look him in the eye. “I—”

“It would benefit you to lay your hands off what is mine.”

You are doomed.

Pierro enters the cemetery, wielding a sword. Despite his serious expression, his gaze is absolutely livid.

Oizys merely scoffs. “Another masked offender. How many of you—”

He stops talking, gripping your necklace tighter. His eyes fix on Pierro’s diamond accessories then his pupils.

“█████.” Any remaining warmth for you has been dashed. “Is he from that nation?”

You can’t answer him. Neither can you meet Pierro’s cold glare.

It’s too late. Oizys leaves your side and appears in front of him, swinging his Claymore, but Pierro dodges it in time. The miasma thickens.

“You wretched human!” he shouts, attempting another swipe. “How dare you!”

A dark blue galaxy-like aura appears in Pierro’s hand, shooting at Oizys’s neck. He gasps, clawing at his throat, but the Khaenri’ahn magic restrains him.

You grip your thurible. “Stop, you’ll—!”

Pierro’s glare is absolutely chilling. “I have finally been granted an audience with you, Child of Night. On behalf of my fallen compatriots, I return your blow.”

“I should have wiped out your despicable race until my dying breath!”

Oizys sets himself free and hits Pierro’s sword this time. The latter stumbles, only to quickly recover and fight back.

You rush towards them, swinging your thurible to spread the mist. Even if you can’t do much, you should at least distract Pierro and give your friend a chance to escape.

“Oizys, don’t underestimate—!”

The blade that cuts you isn’t Pierro’s.

Your back hits a gravestone, but what shocks you is the pain radiating from your cheek. Through the tear in your veil, you make out a disgusted expression.

Oizys looks away. “Just disappear already, █████.”

Why would he say such terrible things to you?

Pierro turns to you, eyes widening. Suddenly, he goes on the offense and successfully strikes Oizys in the leg. Whatever magic he had used earlier is imbued within his sword.

Oizys steps back, crashing into a patch of achlys flowers. He swings his Claymore again, slicing several flowers in the process. “Die already!”

You touch your cheek. Blood drips from the wound and onto the ground. Oizys didn’t hesitate to hurt you, not that he needed to in the first place—you were nowhere close to Pierro. The beheaded achlys flowers litter the ground, quickly trampled.

That thing is no longer Oizys.

What should you do now? The mist engulfs the entire cemetery. You can sense the entire battle. Oizys keeps flinging insults at Pierro, talking about how he will properly punish humanity this time. The latter doesn’t say much.

“You are gravely mistaken. I am not allowing her to escape from me.”

Oizys’s blade grazes his shoulder.

Pierro…did he just stumble?! Oizys laughs and hits him again.

The mist rises. You sense a shocked gasp as the ghost steps forward and gets transported to the other side of the cemetery.

“█████? Did you—”

The mist parts between you and Oizys. There is more blood on his clothes—Pierro’s, not his own. He stares at you, dumbstruck.

“Has your mind been utterly broken?!”

He runs towards you, only to disappear into a cloud of mist. You dodge his attacks, careful to keep Pierro at a distance. You take a few more steps and allow Oizys to find you.

He lunges at you, only to be splattered with a spray of blood.

Right in the eyes.

Mist rises from his eyes and wraps around his face.

He figures it out quickly. “█████! How could you do this to me?!”

His screams are too much to bear. You ignore both his frantic thoughts and the renewed pain in your arm.

Oizys begins stumbling in circles. The mist claims him, covering his eyes and obscuring his vision. This isn’t enough. It will take—

A blade cuts through his heart.

Pierro? When did he find you?

With a final cry, Oizys collapses to the ground. The miasma clears. His body turns more hazy and he ceases to think. When you approach his corpse and release your claim, his eyes are cloudy.

He’s gone.

A pained groan snaps you out of your thoughts. Pierro keels over, clutching his shoulder.

“Pierro!” Quickly, you help him sit down. “Where does it hurt? Do you feel faint?!”

Your voice can’t keep up with your thoughts. You grip his arms and inspect the wounds, horrified when you hear another hiss of pain. His mask lays on the ground, half-broken. There’s so much blood. You can’t lose—

“Compose yourself.”

He grabs your arm. The diamonds in his eyes are so clear, so bright.

“I…” You try to pull away. “Are you really all right?”

His grip is so tight, unwilling to let go. His fingertips press down on your sprained wrist, triggering another wave of pain. His glare remains terrifying.

“You will have to do more to escape from me,” he snaps.

The mist clears.

You raise your other arm. Pierro catches it in time, only for you to stomp on his foot.

He hisses in pain. “You—”

“You idiot!”

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, stinging your wounds. You try to stand up, only to collapse as dizziness overtakes you.

“______!” Pierro catches you in time, anger giving way to concern.

You glare at him. “What in the world were you thinking? Do you have no sense of self-preservation at all?!”

He examines your wounds. “That is a hypocritical statement coming from you.”

“I don’t care! It’s your fault that this all happened to begin with!”

You’ve never felt more relieved in your entire life.

You throw your arms around him and continue sobbing.

“I don’t even know the death rites for a Khaenri’ahn!” you sniffle. “How do you expect me to properly bury you?!”

Pierro lifts your veil and wipes your tears.

“You can cease your hysterics,” he says softly. “I am not letting you go anywhere.”

Behind you, Oizys’s ghost dissipates into the mist.

*✧･ﾟ

The ride home is anything but pleasant.

“The chains are still uncomfortable.”

“That is a necessary precaution.” Pierro adjusts the cuffs and gives you a stern look. “Once we return home, you will release your claim on the estate. There will be no more eavesdropping.”

At least his touch is gentle. His hand trails up your arm, from your sprained wrist to the bandaged wounds. The field doctors had been efficient.

“You will also be confined under strict surveillance,” he adds. He meets your gaze, trapping your reflection in his diamond pupils. “In our bedchambers. I will keep a proper eye on you this time.”

You sigh and lean back in your carriage seat. “You are absolutely cruel. In case you haven’t realized, I could have killed you anytime and still chose not to. And even if I wanted to do that right now, I’m too weak.”

You can’t tell if your lethargy is from blood loss or karmic debt, probably both. Despite his own wounds, Pierro seems to be in exponentially better condition.

“The creature we slew was not the true Child of Night.”

“Huh?” You look up, facing the seat across from you.

Pierro’s gaze is sympathetic. “It was nothing more than the lingering resentment of your deceased friend, so whatever claims he made were untrue.”

“I know,” you reply sheepishly.

Oizys is truly gone. No more warm smiles, blessings of happiness, or lively meals together. May his soul finally find peace.

“Here, take this.”

Mist fills the carriage. Pierro sits up in alarm, only for you to toss your thurible at him.

He catches it, surprise painting his features. “Might there be a reason why you are voluntarily surrendering your Catalyst?”

“Must I articulate my answer?” You cross your arms, leveling him with a tired look. “Take it. Add it to your creepy collection, use my blood as you see fit, I don’t care. So long as I no longer need to hold that terrible thing.”

He stares back at you for a few seconds before setting your thurible aside. “The Fatui has no use for this weapon.”

You think you can believe him this time.

You take off your veil. The fabric is torn beyond repair; you will need to sew a new one. Maybe you can ask Pierro for embroidery ideas.

Outside the window, the scenery switches to a swirling snowscape. A few Snezhnayans are walking against the blizzard.

No need to worry about them; they can persevere. If not, they should still be safe under Pierro’s leadership.

You leave your seat and walk over to Pierro’s. Pain shoots up your leg and you nearly fall, but he quickly catches you and moves you to his side.

“Don’t overexert yourself,” he mutters, but his tone is less harsh. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close.

“Hey, Pierro? Are you staying home tomorrow?”

“Why do you ask?”

You rest your head on his uninjured shoulder. “I just feel like cooking, is all. Do you have any requests?”

A short pause. When Pierro turns to you, there is a soft gleam in those four-pointed stars. A small smile cuts across his face.

“Your cream stew was my favorite.”

You smile back. “That is good to hear.”

What else? You will need to prepare the ingredients, pick the right tableware, maybe even ask Pierro if he’d like to assist you again. And so many other things.

The sky turns dark. The estate is still miles away and you will be trapped in Pierro’s company for a few more hours…and the rest of eternity for that matter. But for some reason, that fact doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

For the first time in years, you actually look forward to tomorrow.

♡

Author’s Note ๑ Side story from Pierro’s POV

Do not ask me how I ended up creating an ultra-detailed darling and a bunch of Genshin OCs for this fic. I am still processing the fact that I wrote a Pierro fic and that it turned out this way (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

If you actually read this to the end, I hope the experience was worth it!! Thank you to everyone for eagerly anticipating this and giving your lovely feedback on my previous fics. Do tell me if you enjoyed Pierro and Savior! Darling’s story, and Happy New Year~

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @kocherry @mirdance @victoria1676 @mnemosyneechan @artiifex @pierroswife @fluffy-koalala @lcveaesop @teabutmakeitazure @nicebonescomrades @ansy-tea

Thank you for your interest in reading!! @yandere-romanticaa @ddarker-dreams @cinnamonest @yanmaresu

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

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hey-august · 2 months

Text

Word count: ~1k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x amab!reader 🍆, no use of Y/N, anal sex, fantasizing about other people during sex, choking, implied shanks x buggy, mihawk x buggy, and croc x buggy.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Another night, another performance. Buggy the Star Clown sinks down on you, his body accepting yours with a familiarity that comes from countless trysts. Your sounds mingle, creating a thick duet of lust. You can’t hold in a grateful whine as your full length slides in, with a little extra depth gained as his weight settles onto you.

Even though this is a scene Buggy’s done many times, the sensation - the fullness - always feels new. His breath shakes with each foreign throb inside his body. Closing his eyes, he begins to rock back and forth, following the cadence set by the sighs drifting from his chest.

You keep your eyes open, to watch the show. To take in every detail. The way his long hair sways with the movement. The heat that blossoms across his face. How his brows drift into a focused frown. When he bites his lip to hold in the louder sounds that threaten to spill forth. Sounds that you’ll fuck out of him soon enough.

You run your hands up his thighs, feeling the rush of desire in his muscles. A drag of your nails against his skin elicits a shudder in Buggy’s body and tugs at his tension. He leans forwards and places his hands on your chest to keep himself propped up. Blue hair cascades forwards, catching strands of moonbeams and curtaining you both in the soft glow.

Holding himself on your body, Buggy’s hips move with increased aggression. His huffs of pleasure get louder as your cock slides in and out, slowly feeding the hunger deep within. You reach up to run your thumb along his cheek. His skin is hot, nearly burning. His eyes flutter briefly before closing again as he leans into your hand. The hardness in his face softens within your touch. You need more.

Your hold drifts down his neck and pauses on his shoulder. After giving a warning squeeze, you twist and flip Buggy onto his back, breaking the connection in the process. A wide gaze meets yours as you line up your aching cock with the hole it just vacated.

“S’ok, you’re good,” you murmur, rubbing the sensitive head against his entrance.

You watch his chest rise erratically with a stuttered inhale. Once his eyes fall shut in anticipation, you reach out and brush the hair out of his face and ease yourself inside. Buggy whimpers at the sensations. A delicious, needy sound. His eyes stay closed, as you know they would. This is a performance, after all.

While you fuck the pirate captain, Buggy is lost to his own imagination. Your attention is transformed into touches from others that he desperately craves. The fantasies don’t bother you - if anything, you love it. You can give him what he wants.

Rolling your hips into his with a slow pace, you meet his first fantasy.

“I’m here…you’re doing so good,” you say in a low voice. “I’m never gonna let you go again.” You emphasize the words with another caress from your right hand.

Buggy’s groans get louder. Tastier. You lean in to drink them from the source. His lips are eager against yours, seeking the assurances that he isn’t alone. That he can’t run away again.

Hoisting one leg over your arm, you press deeper into Buggy and chase his second fantasy. You thrust faster, sheathing yourself to the hilt.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”

The taunting words come in a voice that’s nearly apathetic. Buggy fills the emotionless void on his own, crying out as your cock hits deeper. Light flashes in his vision as his eyes squeeze ever tighter and he focuses on glimmers of yellow before they fade. His next moan catches in his throat as your hand wraps around his throbbing erection. A lithe touch full of care and reverence, as if it came from a hand dedicated to daily trainings.

You pump Buggy’s dick, orchestrating the sounds that grow ever louder from his mouth. His expression twists into a lewd drama mask, with brows scrunching up to beg for release and his mouth falling open to beg for more. Feeling the pulsations in your hand, you quickly adjust your hold on his body.

You press his leg closer to his torso and lift his ass a few inches off the bed to assist your change into his third fantasy. The slap of skin against skin fills the room as you bully your cock even deeper. You push your weight into the pirate’s folded body, doing your best to cage him in, despite not being that much larger than Buggy himself.

This role is the most challenging to fulfill, but Buggy never complains. He allows his imagination to bridge the gaps of your limits. When you wrap a hand around his neck, Buggy’s mind replaces your warm grip with cold metal.

“Take it…fucking take it,” you grunt with each thrust.

The hold on Buggy’s neck tightens, slowly silencing his filthy noises. You watch as his face grows redder under the pressure before easing slightly. A kindness that’s unwanted as Buggy’s head shakes slightly. With a growl, you replace your hold on his neck and fuck him harder, intent on meeting the brutal heat of this fantasy.

A wheezing breath escapes your hold as Buggy shakes under you. His body trembles as he releases all over his stomach and chest. Once again, you release his neck. The air is rough in his throat and Buggy coughs. With each spasm of his chest, another spurt of cum falls onto his body, until he’s empty.

With the few minutes left in this fantasy performance, you tilt Buggy’s head and press his face into the pillow. “M’not done yet, clown.”

Buggy meets your gravelly voice with a subdued whimper as he waits for the explosive finale.

Once all the scenes are complete, you take your leave. There’s never a curtain call or encore. No applause. But that’s okay. It won’t be long before the next reprise and you’re the only one to fill this role for your captain.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #x reader #buggy the clown #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #shuggy #hawkbug #crocbug #shanks x buggy #mihawk x buggy #crocodile x buggy

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stealeroflemons · 10 months

Text

eah thingy but it's if they had their own musical numbers in an eah musical BECAUSE I SAID SO #24 (PART I?)

this is also because I'm a theater person and I'm having performance withdrawals, and I'm watching Rise of The Pink Ladies, and Glee again, the withdrawals are real

Raven's solo would be called "Not Evil" where it's just her walking into ever after high trying to tell people that she's not evil and she really doesn't want to be like her mother (think when she first walked into the school with Maddie and everyone ran away when they saw her)

There would be a number with all the princess' called "What Princess' Do" during princessology where they go over the core fundemetals of being a princess (but not real ones, like stuff about smiling and learning to balance crowns on your head and always looking pretty) and it would absolutely be choreographed like "we both reached for the gun" from Chicago where everyone is being puppeteered

Headmaster Grimm has this stoic number called "Legacy" where he explains the importance of signing the Storybook of Legends

The Wonderlandians would absolutely have their own number called "Out of Wonder" which explains the whole Wonderland curse with mini solos about how it effected their lives

There's also a "Tea-Time!" interlude between scenes with big set changes where it's Maddie and possibly other students setting up a small tea party

Apple gets a solo called "The Apple Doesn't Fall Far" where it's her talking to Raven or Briar or someone about how Apple strives to follow her mom's legacy (think how she acted before Thronecoming)

The hardcore villain kids get a number called "Wickedly Cool" and it's bsically them singing about how being wicked and evil is cool and not as bad as some people make it out to be

Apple and Daring get a duet called "Destined Together" about how perfect they are for each other and are, of course, destined to be together forever after

On that note, the "Destined Together (Reprise) features both Apple and Darling, and Daring and Rosabella having this heartfelt moment where they go back and forth realising that they were destined for someone else

Briar and Faybelle also get a duet called "Frenemies Forever" where Faybelle just goes on about how much she appreciates Briar as her frenemy, and Briar sings along saying she doesn't really get it but Faybelle just keeps going, REALLY dramatic, about all the great benefits of having a frenemy

#raven queen #maddie hatter #ever after high #eah #briar beauty #faybelle thorn #apple white #bribelle #kitty cheshire #lizzie hearts #darling charming #daring charming

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bookworm-center · 11 months

Note

I have a request for a Kaz Brekker au/one shot (whatever u see better fit)

Where the crow club usually as a singer on friday nights but the singer had to cancel last minute so seeing the “panic” on the other crows and crew Y/N steps up and sings even tho nobody knew she could sing and when Kaz hears it and sees her he just gets lost in her voice…

I hope this is a good idea haha

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Unsung Duet

In which Kaz's partner in crime steps up to sing.

Author's Note: Ooh, I love this request! I'm twisting it slightly but not too much; I hope that's okay! I wasn't sure if you wanted a specific song, so I went with "Six of Crows" by Gio Navas. Such a good song that's obviously inspired by the book, you should definitely listen to it. This ended up being shorter than I wanted, but I think it's not bad.

Panic floods the Crow Club in hushed whispers. The usual Friday night singer cancelled? People begin to leave, shoving their way out of the small doorway.

Kaz's panic isn't shown on his features- he's good enough at his job to know panicking is a weakness- but the other Dregs are rushing about. Rotty says something about too many people leaving, but Kaz is too busy working out a plan to respond.

Claps come from the stage, quiet and slow at first, but gradually growing. Then comes the singing.

This is a city of toxic smoke

We trade our lungs for a noose of rope

Under our feet and the tilted ground

Runaways of ashes never found

People turn around, coming back in and filling up all the seats and tables. Kaz looks up from his glass, to the singer that's taken the stage. There stands none other than his partner in crime. Y/n L/n, master of tricks. He had never heard her sing, never even knew she could, despite his reputation for knowing everything. Her eyes are closed at first, like she's trying to lose herself in the music.

Here is where the monsters hide

Only the wicked can survive

With every line, every rise and fall of the melody, every held note, Y/n gains a little more confidence. She taps her feet on the wood of the platform they call a stage.

And just like that, Kaz, along with the patrons in the Club, are swept away by her voice. There's something about the way she sings that's so enchanting and enticing, almost like a pull of unseeable magic. Her and Kaz only make eye contact once, when the song is nearly over.

A boy with a broken soul

Marching through this world alone

He fights among the cursed six of crows

Where is his heart, he may never know, never know

And that's it. The crowd bursts into applause, demanding for an encore as Y/n walks off the stage. Kaz hadn't even noticed she was finished singing, not until the bartender called his name several times.

He knew the last verse was about him. Y/n had been his best friend, his other half, his partner in crime, for so long, that they were nearly one person. She knew nearly everything about him, and he for her.

The last line gets him thinking: where is his heart?

Easy. His heart is set on revenge. It's set on destroying Pekka Rollins, ruining everything he built.

There's another response, further back in his head, in the part of him that was still Kaz Reitveld. His heart was with Y/n.

After all, they were the halves to a whole, the sun and the moon. Together they were perfect clockwork, chiming together to pull off the perfect heist.

His heart was with Y/n, his unsung duet.

#grishaverse #bookworm center #six of crows #kaz brekker #grishaverse oneshots #kaz brekker x reader

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hlficlibrary · 6 months

Text

✤ Witch Fics ✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ the school of extraordinary lovers by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (M, 191)

"We keep telling the other, I love you and I love you, and we do, though we both know where the knives are." - Laura Van Prooyen

harry is a third-year witch and violinist at Laitswold, the only magical academy in the UK, with dreams of taking on the world, and hopefully breaking the centuries-old curse on his family while he's at it. he does not dream of facing off against his childhood rival and duet partner, but louis is back in town after six years abroad, so that's exactly what happens.

2️⃣ love is divine by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (M, 25k)

Being a witch doesn't help when it comes to unrequited love.

3️⃣ Drops of Jupiter by @itsmotivatingcara (M, 121k)

In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn't have room for. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that's impossible not to fall in love with.

But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns' darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills?

And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

4️⃣ What Good Are The Stars Above by ultravioletInk (M, 68k)

A gratuitous alternate universe where Harry is more interested in the Slytherins than a Gryffindor Muggleborn has any right to be, Louis has settled into his preordained role, and Liam just really wants to get his friends through their final year of Hogwarts without accruing any casualties.

5️⃣ House of The Rising Sun by @itsmotivatingcara (M, 101k)

“It wasn’t me.” Louis said after they’d walked a block in silence, Harry glanced over in surprise but this time Louis didn’t meet his eyes, instead looking ahead. The moonlight cast shadows under his striking cheekbones, and not for the first time, Harry thought he was eerily beautiful - though immortality would likely have a hand in that. “It was supposed to be, but I got caught up in something else.”

“Something more important than murdering a witch” Harry snarked, “Will wonders never cease.”

He felt Louis’ irritation before he spoke again, “Careful, little lamb.” He murmured.

Little lamb.

Harry despised the nickname Louis had given him when they’d first met nine months prior. Little Lamb to the slaughter, Louis had said mockingly.

Or The Originals AU that no one asked for.

HIDDEN GEMS:

💎 A Spell and A Spark by @dinosaursmate (T, 73k)

“We have something to tell you.” Louis’ eyes slowly looked around the room. He frowned at the absence of anyone else. “We? Who? You and the cat?” Louis scoffed. “Yes.” Louis glanced at Niall, unimpressed. The black cat was looking at him quizzically. “Right. Well, spit it out, Mum.” “There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it.” She took a deep breath. “You’re a witch.” --- Louis is a teenage witch, living and attending university among mortals. He has to keep his secret whilst studying on both his degree and his witch's licence. His friends don't suspect a thing, even as spell after spell goes awry.

💎 Spinning Out Waiting for You by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose (M, 18k)

Harry Styles is a year and a half away from graduating with a masters in potions and he has one huge milestone to reach in his academy career: the Matching Ceremony.

From Halloween night until graduation, matched witches and familiars will have to create a talisman to be a physical representation of their bond. One for the witch and one for the familiar. Most pairings last an entire lifetime.

If only it were that simple.

💎 Just Your Jinx by @larryatendoftheday (T, 10k)

Harry Styles may or may not have accidentally jinxed his extremely fit new neighbor, and it's not so easy to make things right.

💎 Babe, There's Something Lonesome About You by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey (M, 8k)

Louis is a hedge witch, who lives a lonely, solitary life. He's quite happy with his shop in Door County, selling New Age magics to the tourists. He also has his cats and his birds to keep him company. But his best friend Liam thinks he needs someone around, and he's got just the person: Liam's friend Harry is coming to the area for the tourist season and since Louis has all this space....

💎 Cookbooks and Toothpicks and One Lizard by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (G, 3k)

If there is one thing that Harry hates about Halloween, it’s what a spectacle everyone suddenly makes around him.

Sure, he loves his friends, but he really wishes that this one, singular day of the year they could all just be chill. It’s as if for 364 days they forget what his profession is entirely, and then all remember at the same moment on the morning of October 31st. Oh yeah! I have a friend who is a witch! I should reconnect with him on this particular day, I’m sure he’s not already got plans of any kind!

Well not this year. This year he's going to the library.

#ficrec #witchharry #witchlouis #hlcreators #hljournal #trackinghappily #trackinghome #hlsource #ficsfor4am #1dsource #1dficvillage #ladylondonderry #patdkitten #stylinsoncity #itsmotivatingcara #larryatendoftheday #amomentoflove #ultravioletlink #dinosaursmate

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ghouljams · 6 months

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OK I know it's a general fanon take that Soap is an artist(which y'all already heard my take on Ghost being the artist of the group) but I disagree. I think he plays guitar. HOLD YOUR BOOING AND HISSING

Everyone that Soap mentions it to assumes he learned to impress girls and only knows a few basic chords he can bust out at parties but they're WRONG. Soap picked up guitar when he got into demolitions to help with his dexterity and fell absolutely in love with it. He very specifically loves any song with a lot of fingerings (wink wink) and plays a lot of old blues, folk, country music because of that.

The way I see it he's got two modes of playing. The first(and I can picture this so clearly) is sat way down in a comfy chair, his head tipped back against the back cushion and his eyes closed as he picks out the most intricate fucking piece you've ever heard in your like (Phoenix rising level fingerings) with the air of almost falling asleep. The second, is laughing at parties, picking out idle fingerings to a few crowd favorites(if you even mention wonderwall he's putting the guitar away) his face turning more serious when he actually looks at his guitar, sat forward and tapping his foot, I think he sings well enough to impress but not to win any awards.

Cowboy!Soap will break out his guitar and do little duets with Goose, both of them sloshed and singing Jack Rabbit is a tradition in the Price house. This is where the country really shines through, he can really flex his love for it without raising brows. So he does. Has absolutely composed a few pieces that he would love to show a certain darling if he can pin her down.

Fae!Soap does mostly finger picking. He likes showing off and he doesn't like people singing along. It makes him feel like he should be eating and he's trying to enjoy his hobby.

Anyway I think he bought a nice acoustic guitar with his first military paycheck and it has followed him everywhere ever since. The case is covered in baggage stickers and travel memos, the guitar itself has the signature of every person he's ever served with(he can find Ghost, Gaz, and Price by heart, Graves' is scratched out) and it's his most prized possession.

#ghoul speaks #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap modern warfare #soap cod #cowboy!soap

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mirkwoodmunson · 2 years

Text

dozing

eddie munson x gn!y/n

838 words

it’s movie night with eddie, but you struggle to stay awake. he’s happy to let you nap in his arms.

contains: fluffff, est. relationship, lots of naps tw: eddie only says one (1) whole curse, food/eating a/n: short little blurb compilation thing — i had this in my drafts and just heard about olivia newton-john. i am very sad. needed comfort fic. disc: i do not give permission to share my content outside of tumblr; please reblog and do not repost; my content (even sfw) is not meant for minors; i am not responsible for the media you consume online.

A calloused palm tenderly swipes over and then presses against your forehead, light pressure against the crown of your head as a kiss is laid upon it. You murmur and pull open eyes that ache to stay shut.

“M’not asleep,” you breathe.

“You feeling okay?” Eddie coos into your hair, still gauging your temperature against his hand, until you shift your head back to nibble at the butt of his palm.

He chuckles in his chest, against your back, giving in and removing his hand to poke your cheek.

You were lounging together in his bed, Eddie leaned back into a padding of pillows with you laid back against his chest, sat between his pulled up knees as he held you against him. You were so comfortable, resting your head back against his shoulder, feeling yourself rise and fall with his breathing and the thud of his heartbeat duet with your own, the rumble of his chest when he spoke softly or laughed.

It was hard enough staying awake after not getting much sleep, but having him to rest on was making it near impossible. Grease played on the little TV, you’d rented it for the 100th time for movie night and Eddie had sighed but smiled. He never got tired of hearing you sing along. But tonight, when you were much too tired to harmonize to Beauty School Dropout, he’d assumed something was wrong — perhaps you were under the weather.

“Just sleepy,” you tuck under his chin and hide a yawn in his chest before turning back to the movie.

“You sure? I-I can get you somethin’; coffee? Water? You hungry?”

“Eeeeds,” you whine, cupping his cheek and pulling him towards you to nuzzle the other, “I’m fiiine, I’m just tired. Neighbor’s dog barking kept me up all night.”

He does another deep chuckle and your muscles lax, you sigh against his cheek and he pulls away a bit to kiss your forehead, before pulling you back into him and guiding you to rest your cheek against his chest.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, planting another kiss into your hair and encircling you with his arms; you feel like you sink into him, sliding your arms around his middle and curling up against him.

“You can sleep, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flutter shut, his voice so so soft and gentle and guiding you into that pull behind your eyes.

“I’ll hold you.”

Eddie smiles into your hair when he feels you go slack, your breathing evening out — soft snores accompanying.

It must be a while later when your eyes crack open again, the sun half behind the horizon, baking Eddie’s room in a golden glow that’s warm and enveloping. You find you’re still held, still guarded by Eddie’s embrace.

You mewl a yawn and rub your eye, startled then by a grumbling snore from a dozing Eddie. You laugh softly and tip your head back to find his is rolled into his shoulder, eyes closed and jaw slack as he sleeps; a bit of drool wetting the shoulder of his shirt.

You settle back into his arms and sigh, the white noise of static from the TV and Eddie’s steady, low snores help you find where you left off a moment ago.

“Eddiiiieee what’re’y’dooinng,” you fuss as you’re handled carefully, eased from Eddie’s chest and laid into the sheets with a pillow beneath your head. You whine and turn to tug on his shirt, not letting him leave.

Eddie laughs and slips a hand around yours.

“I gotta take a piss, princess,” his voice is gruff with sleep.

“Groosss,” you whine, letting go of his shirt and nuzzling your face into the pillow.

Eddie laughs again and kisses your temple before leaving the room. You’re back to snoring by the time he walks back in, and he simply lies against your back and presses his nose into the back of your hair, breathing you in as he joins you once again.

The smell of something warm and tasty eases you out of sleep, your stomach grumbles as you come to and Eddie chuckles from his spot sitting on the edge of his bed, holding one plate of warmed-up spaghetti for himself and one out towards you.

You hum and groggily sit up, taking the plate and tucking in eagerly, munching together as the late evening news played dull on the TV.

After your late supper you slither your way back into Eddie’s arms, and he accepts your presence happily, tucking you against him within his grasp.

You feel full and warm and content and your eyes begin to tune out,

And before you know it you’re opening your eyes to a dark room, crickets singing outside the cracked-open window, and in front of you Eddie blinks happily in the presence of your sleepy smile.

He reaches up and strokes hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, petting your cheek with his thumb as he tips his head in to kiss you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #mine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble

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arthenaa · 1 year

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Courting the MC more specifically with a music. Both or our beloved Slytherins helping each other out. Can we do a Hufflepuff character cause I love the challenge of it. Thank you and good luck!

harana - sebastian x hufflepuff!reader x ominis

definition: means to serenade. an old courtship tradition in the Philippines that men do to formally meet and court women. Usually done by singing.

summary: After seeing the sudden rise of suitors after saving Hogwarts, Sebastian and Ominis go out of their comfort zones to top the other men in courting you. Even if it means getting to sing a little.

note: ahhh tysm for requesting !! not sure if this is what you meant but i immediately thought of my culture's old courting tradition so why not <3 i also love writing ominis and seb as two idiots in love who love vying for ur attention. the song below sets the mood and its opm (filipino music) and its v good ahhhh its optional tho! the song's abt a person falling in love w someone and finding them as their muse.

tags: reader is gender neutral despite the definition, fluff fluff, seb and omi are jealous fucks and being the slytherins that they are they get competitive, the end slowly descends to a crack fic cause its 3 in the morning, mentions of breaking kneecaps and homicide but its just ominis joking around, reader acting like a slytherin for a few seconds, reader is hinted to grow up in filipino culture but its just mentioning harana, other than that everythings by ur choice, seb and ominis insulting gryffindors BUT ITS NOT SRS ,,, ily my gryffindor readers, i love writing imelda as a menace, seb and ominis duet, im so fucking in love w them.

"That's the twelfth fucking letter I've seen today." Imelda eyes the letter on your desk in transfiguration class as the three of you enter the room. Poppy sends a harsh glare at the Slytherin as you busy yourself with examining the letter.

Do you think that saving Hogwarts and the fate of the wizarding world would lead you to this type of situation? Not at all. Sure you expected some type of attention— If anything, you wish you didn't receive any unnecessary ones at all but certainly Merlin has other plans for you. The result of being in Hogwarts' main spotlight has caused numerous heads to turn. At first, it was out of respect but then that same respect suddenly turned into something more.

You could hear whispers of attraction from your yearmates and the giggles from 3rd years as you roam the halls of the castle. It felt good for the first few days but now with the number of gifts and letters you're receiving, you wished you were once the 5th year who people regarded as a late bloomer and not worthy of their time.

You sigh as you read the letter, raising your eyebrows in amusement as it contained quite explicit details regarding you. You close the letter fast before shoving it in your satchel. "Hopefully, that's the last one."

"Ha!" Imelda scoffs as she sits down beside you. Poppy sits on your other side. "After that whole fiasco at the Great Hall, you think their fragile egos would allow that to top their chance with you?"

You let out a groan at the mention. For some reason, one of your suitors decided to send a howler to top the other gifts sent to you. Apparently the thought was the louder it is, the more it'll get your attention. He took it quite literally and you spent most of your lunch wallowing in misery as Poppy comforted you.

"I just pray there wouldn't be any more howlers screaming at Y/N's face. A bit of an overreaction must I say. Who would want to date that?" Poppy sends you a pitiful look. You pinch her cheek at her concern.

"These things are overwhelming— You think if I asked Leander to drink a polyjuice potion of me in exchange for blackmail on Sebastian, would he agree?" You turn to Imelda with a hopeful gaze. The Slytherin girl chuckled.

"I'd drink a polyjuice potion of you if you gave me blackmail of Sebastian." Imelda leans close with a mischievous gaze before backtracking with hesitance. "On second thought, I might just be bombarded with love letters and that goo goo eyes from Sallow and Gaunt so no I take it back."

"Goo goo eyes?" You let out a confused laugh. "Since when do they do that?"

"All the time." Poppy chimes in as she watches students slowly pile in the classroom. "It's quite fun to watch actually."

"No, they don't?" You incredulously reply as you glance back and forth at your seatmates.

"Yes, they do." Imelda retorts

"No, they don't."

"Yes, they do." Poppy puts a hand on your shoulder, whispering it slowly. You playfully shove her hand away.

"On a third thought actually, let me drink the polyjuice potion. I'd like to mess with the two and see their fucking reactions when I tell them I'm in love with Garreth Weasley." Imelda jokes as she nudges you with her arm. It might've been the best time for the subjects of the conversation to enter. You stop yourself from laughing as Sebastian winks playfully at you, walking towards your table and propping a leg on the elevated platform. Ominis follows behind him, smiling at the sense of your presence.

"You're in love with Weasley?" Sebastian gasps dramatically. Imelda spins around in surprise before scowling at the entrance of Sebastian.

"As Y/N." Imelda responds. Sebastian turns now to you with a raised eyebrow.

"Y/N's in love with Weasley?" Ominis adds more to the confusion. You roll your eyes at them. Poppy watches as the two men tense at the thought, waiting for your explanation. She thinks Imelda is right. This is quite amusing.

"No, I'm not. Stop twisting things." You correct them. Ominis and Sebastian visibly relax and it almost makes Poppy cackle.

"Then who's in love with the Gryffindork?" Sebastian seats on the seat in front of you, Ominis sitting beside him. "Oh yeah, before I forgot."

Sebastian turns around to you, placing a bag of chocolate frogs on your desk. You fall silent at the gift before smiling at him. Sebastian nonchalantly licks his lips before continuing. "It's from both of us."

"Both of you?" Imelda leans over to send a knowing gaze at Sebastian who flips her off.

"Thank you. I was supposed to get some on my trip to Hogsmeade later. You're heaven-sent." You giggle as you lean forward to pinch Sebastian's cheeks before ruffling Ominis's hair. The two only grumble in thanks, ears flushed red. Of course, you wouldn't notice, Imelda thinks as she watches Ominis fix his hair without even snapping at you for ruining it.

"No one's in love with Garreth. Y/N was just asking Imelda if she'd drink a polyjuice potion of them in exchange for blackmail on Sebastian, would she agree." Poppy explains as she leans back against her chair. Sebastian turns with furrowed eyebrows.

"You'd offer me over that?" Sebastian gasps, betrayed. You chuckle at his expression before glancing at Ominis who shrugs at the thought.

"It's quite a tempting offer." Ominis jests before Sebastian smacks his arm in retaliation.

"I mean if you spend a day like Y/N, won't it be so entertaining with the number of love letters they're getting?" Imelda places an arm on your chair behind you, sighing as she drums her fingertips against the wooden surface of the back of the chair. This catches Sebastian and Ominis's attention.

"What letters?" Ominis's voice is quiet but firm. You sit up, tense as if you've been caught doing something you shouldn't be doing.

"You don't know?" Poppy unawarely responds. "Y/N's the center of attention. Tons of suitors are asking for their hand. The gifts are horrendous so far though. Especially, that howler."

"Is that the same fucking howler I heard people talking about in the greenhouse?" Sebastian looks at you for confirmation to which you sheepishly nod.

"That's quite aggressive." Ominis huffs in annoyance. "Can't believe they would resort to unnecessary means of conveying feelings rather than just doing it properly."

"It's fine guys." You try to reassure them. "It'll die down."

"Do you take that as proper?" Imelda raises her eyebrows, eyes subtly glancing down at the bag of chocolate frogs on your desk. Sebastian squints his eyes to a glare at her.

"You ought to learn how to keep your mouth shut, Reyes," Ominis replies as he pulls out his quill. Reyes leans back to catch Poppy's eye before quietly mocking Ominis, repeating his words. The Hufflepuff laughs at her antics before sitting up at the entrace of Professor Weasley.

You catch Sebastian's hand moving back up and resting on your desk, palm facing up. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as he seems to focus on Professor Weasley's discussion but the twitch of his fingers as he motions for you to give him something says otherwise. You try to give an extra quill at first but he shakes it off, then the chocolates, then a handkerchief but none fits what he's blindly requesting. So as a joke, you place your hand in his palm and surprisingly he curls his fingers to hold yours. It was an odd position but you smile at his cheekiness. He tilts his head to the side, smirking at you from the side of his eye.

The moment was short-lived however.

"Mr. Sallow, I advise you to focus in class and have your hand hold your quill instead." Professor Weasley shoots a pointed look at Sebastian and then at you. You smile sheepishly, hesitantly pulling your hand away.

The Slytherin boy only smiles innocently. "Apologies, Professor."

Ominis grumbles beside him, hitting the side of his thigh with his knee. The Sallow boy makes a show of holding his quill toward Professor Weasley who shakes her head in amusement. His eyes then look up to assess the room, finding multiple stares at him. Most of them were filled with jealousy.

Definitely worth it.

"You're a moron. An idiot." Ominis hisses as he pinches Sebastian on the way out of class. Sebastian yelps in pain as they stop in a secluded corner to allow Ominis to chastise him for his little act back at class.

"What? It was worth it!" Sebastian reasons as he rubs his abused arm. "The look on their face was hilarious. You should've seen them."

Ominis raises an eyebrow at him to which he chuckles. Before the two could ask you to hang out with them in the Undercroft, Poppy had immediately whisked you away, claiming that you two had plans for something back at the Hufflepuff common room. If being nice was a person, Sebastian thinks it's you as you allow yourself to be dragged away by the energetic girl. Imelda however was a pain in the ass as she gives the both of them with a knowing look and a wiggle of her eyebrows before moving along to wherever she's going— probably to fly her stupid fucking broom.

"I didn't know we had competition." Sebastian says as he leans back against the stone walls. His head turns to Ominis who does the same as him, fiddling with his wand.

"I mean why wouldn't we." Ominis blows a raspberry. It almost makes Sebastian laugh at how uncharacteristic it is but he knows better. Ominis is worried. "It's more understandable that they'd have more admirers now."

Sebastian nods in understanding as he now turns to face the almost empty corridor. The soft breeze from outside blew softly against their robes, tousling Sebastian's curls.

"Doesn't change the fact we're first, though." He smiles, nudging Ominis's shoulder with his own. Anyone who probably wasn't Leander Prewett would immediately guess the budding attraction these two had for you. Samantha Dale was the first one to point it out, and if she weren't Sebastian's dearest friend, he probably would cast an oscausi on her for being so loud with her teasing. The two kept it from each other at first before they both noticed things at the same time. How different the other acted around you. All it took was a hushed conversation in the Undercroft and your sudden presence as you entered the secret room with an excited smile as you gushed about your adventure with Natty and the Hippogriffs, that the boys had a silent agreement.

That they'd pursue you together.

Of course, it didn't hinder the fact that you might choose only one of them. So they agreed to not disturb each other's alone time with you or their individual efforts in pursuing you. After all, they were best friends first before you.

It didn't also help the fact that they haven't formally courted you yet.

"I heard from Poppy someone had given them a bouquet of roses in their common room. It caused quite a commotion yesterday." Sebastian scoffs. "Why are we now only knowing this?"

Well it was probably because they were deemed to be the rivals to have the best chance on winning you over. They had been with you right from the start and we're considered to be your dearest friends. Of course people would keep things from them.

"Anyways, did you get the thing?" Ominis tilts his head toward Sebastian's direction. "I still can't believe this is how we'll do it."

"It's romantic! Also, yes." Sebastian grins as he leans his body against Ominis. The blonde stumbles a bit to the side at the sudden pressure on his side.

"Get off me."

"No."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to agree to our hangout a while ago. Poppy insisted her situation was too dire to ignore." You smiled sheepishly as you open the doors to the room of requirement. Ominis smiles in understanding while Sebastian whistles as he admires the place.

"Will never get used to this at all." Sebastian sighs dreamily, tucking his hands in his pockets as he stands at the center of the room. You promised to make it up to them before Poppy rudely dragged you away to your common room and when Imelda grudgingly approached them in the Slytherin common room with a message from you, they were quite ecstatic. The two made haste in gathering their things to meet you at the assigned place (Ominis made sure that Sebastian had the thing they needed before leaving).

They had been here a couple of times before. Once after that whole scriptorium escapade, You had said that it was only fair that you show them your secret hideout after they had entrusted theirs with you. Ominis tried to argue that it wasn't necessary, not realizing that you were actually leading them to the place but you had already pulled them in and shown the wonders of your vivarium before they could even have the chance to say no.

"Same." You breathed out before turning to them with a smile. With a skip on your step, you grab Ominis first and guide him to suit down at the lounge area located at the center of the room. It faced the vivariums quite nicely, allowing a glimpse of the happy creatures fluttering around in their dens. You then moved to the brunette who lets himself be dragged to the chair beside Ominis. "Wait here, I'll just feed them. Highwing's got herself a new offspring and Godiva's handling triplets. I'll be right back."

You spoke of your Hippogriff and Niffler with love and affection that it almost makes Ominis jealous but he only nods in understanding. 'Really, over a niffler?' Ominis thinks, pinching himself on the thigh as he hears your footsteps fade away inside the vivarium.

There's a moment of silence before Sebastian reaches over to slap Ominis's arm. The blonde yelps in pain. "What the fuck?"

"Are we supposed to y'know..."

"What?"

"To..." Sebastian makes hand gestures to which Ominis makes a deadpan face.

"To?"

"Y'know..."

"You do know I can't see you right?" Ominis grunts, annoyed. He could just sense Sebastian making weird movements with his hands from the way his robes ruffled against each other.

"Right, forgot. Silly me!" Sebastian laughs. He's been trying to piss off Ominis since this morning from making tasteless pun jokes to borderline harassing the poor blonde. Ominis has only had enough before he decides to result to homicide (jokingly).

"Keep making jokes like that and I'll break your fucking kneecaps off."

"Damn, you don't have to go that far." Sebastian moves his chair slightly to the right in fear of what Ominis might do.

"Keep your eyes peeled, Sallow," Ominis threatens like a fucking menace in society. "Disability is never a choice unless I inflict it."

"I'm sorry."

"Got that right."

"I'll be there in a moment!" You had emerged from one of the vivariums on the second floor. Sebastian and Ominis awkwardly smile at you, the brunette going for a wave as well. You smile at them before heading back in. The room had given you a way to easily travel between vivariums, giving you fast access to tend to your beasts.

Sebastian turns to Ominis and huffs before a determined look flashes on his face. "It's now or never, Ominis."

"Now wait a fucking minute—"

"You can do it," Sebastian grumbles under his breath as he apparates a guitar in his lap. He adjusts the instrument as he glances up at where you had disappeared. "Any moment Y/N walks through those doors and we don't do this now, we lose to fucking Leander Prewett. Would you allow yourself to lose to a fucking Gryffindor of all people?"

"No," Ominis replies as he grips his knees in nervousness. "That would be degrading... I don't like being degraded... Actually.... I change my mind, it depends."

"Depends on what?"

"... Nothing, just forget about it. Anyways, I would rather be stomped on by a troll than let Leander Prewett get a chance."

"Exactly! It's like getting stupefied in the ass." He furrows his eyebrows in determination as he reaches one hand to grip Ominis on the shoulder.

"You speak as though you've experienced it."

"... Things are better left unsaid, my friend." Sebastian smiles before they hear your voice again, this time coming from left vivarium. Sebastian smacks Ominis's arm before placing his hands back on the guitar.

"On three." Sebastian whispers before counting down.

The soft strumming of the guitar catches your attention. You had been trying to get Neo, Highwing's son, to stop following you back into the room after you had tried to tend to your patient guests below but now, you just wanted to investigate the sudden music filling your ears. You quickly make your way out of the vivarium, stepping into their vision as you gasp in marvel at the sight of Sebastian playing the guitar beautifully. You lean against the balcony railing, biting your lip as you pointlessly fail to prevent a smile from coming out.

It's Ominis's voice that even shocks you further.

Georgia, wrap me up in all your

I want you in my arms

His voice is magical and melodious. Like raindrops softly tapping against the window or the sound of a piano on a sustain pedal. Continuous and ethereal. You stare at him in awe as he continues to sing.

Oh, let me hold you

I'll never let you go again like I did

Oh, I used to say

As Ominis sings, your eyes catch Sebastian's eyes, never leaving yours as he expertly plucks the strings of the guitar. Your breath hitches as his eye never seem to leave you as you descend the stairs, slowly making your way towards them before stopping a few meters away from where they're seated. Then you hear Sebastian's voice.

I would never fall in love again until I found them

I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into"

It's beautiful. The way Ominis's ethereal voice blends with Sebastian's smooth one. While Ominis reminds you of magic itself, Sebastian gives you the feeling of reality. The concept of it all. It sounds quite ironic with two concepts unimaginably relating to one another but in your world, it coincides perfectly. Two unintangible concepts make sense together. Just like you three. Vast differences and yet you had formed a bond like no other.

Your smile reaches to your eyes as you listen to their song.

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you.

The strumming softly ends as the both of them lick their lips in nervousness. There was a moment of pause before you let out a soft giggle and clap joyously at their performance.

"That was wonderful!" You walk towards them, sitting on the coffee table in front of their seats. Sebastian and Ominis blush at your compliments.

"Do— Do you know what it means?" Ominis hesitantly asks.

You stare softly at the two. "It's harana, isn't it? You're both serenading me?"

Sebastian breathes out a shaky breath before nodding. "We've felt for you for quite some time now. We decided to pursue you together. Apologies if that made you feel overwhelmed."

"No. No! It's quite alright." You reassure them. "I'm happy that you've resorted to this method. It certainly brings back a lot of memories from home. The streets are always filled with music because of it. I wondered if I would ever get to receive one."

You bite your lip as you reminisce, your hands fiddling with each other. You let out a sigh before reaching out to hold one of their hands in yours. "Thank you. I'm glad you did."

Sebastian eyes furrow in confusion. "Are— Are you allowing us to court you?"

"Mhm."

"Is it me or?"

"Together." You nod as you glance back and forth at their surprised faces.

"Together?" Ominis whispers.

"Together." You repeat.

It takes a moment to process before both of them surge from their seats to hug you. You almost fall off but the Ominis's hand on your waist catches you. The three of you laugh.

"Well I mean, three is better than two, right?" Sebastian giggles like a schoolgirl as both he and Ominis lean back enough to be close to you and not hog your space with his weight. "I can't fucking believe this."

"Well, you have to." You smile before you smugly cross your arms over your chest "I was gonna let you two court me either way, I was just waiting for you two to ask."

"What if we hadn't agreed to pursue you together?" Ominis raises his eyebrow in suspicion. Your eyes playfully look away as you purse your lips.

"You have to." You shrug with a smile. "I'll make you. Besides, it's no secret that you two like each other as well. I have eyes you know."

The two blush once again at your observation to which you two laugh.

"Well, green has always looked better with yellow." Sebastian coughs as an attempt to recollect himself before smugly smiling.

"Unfortunately, I have to disagree." You sadly smile. "Imelda says we'll look like puke together. She's decided to call us that if we do in fact get together."

"Well, fuck Imelda." Ominis snorts. You giggle at his reply as Sebastian nods, agreeing with him in badmouthing your friend.

"Fuck Imelda indeed."

You decide to let this pass and fly over your head. Surely Imelda won't mind.

She doesn't need to know.

A/N: This took quite long HAHAHA but I had fun hehe hope this satisfied you anon <3 will be editing this in the morning gnight

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #imelda reyes #poppy sweeting

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