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vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

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Atlas and Pleione

Category: Romance

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Shoto Todoroki, Momo Yaoyorozu

Hey, everyone! Here is my second story for the @todobowlbang! I had the pleasure of again working with @danyartime, so make sure you check out her absolutely gorgeous art!

The pattering of the rain drummed in Shoto’s ears, filling his consciousness with white noise that was only interrupted by the rumbling of thunder overhead and the squeaks of his soles as he trudged down the water-slicked sidewalk. The water streamed over his form, slicking his bicolored locks to his forehead and running in rivulets down his pale face to soak into the fabric of his hero uniform. His shoulders hunched as if he bore the weight of the world; perhaps he was not Atlas incarnate, but Shoto did feel burdened, and this torrential deluge was simply the latest of many tribulations that he had faced throughout the day. The cold and wet mattered not, for his troubled mind barely perceived the sensations as it was too ladened by weariness and toil. All Shoto could think about was getting home, of shedding his costume and the mantle of hero for at least a little while.

The white metal gate squeaked as he pushed it open, the hinges noisy due to the water saturating the metalworkings. The front yard was sodden with rain puddles spilling over onto the path of stone circles leading up to the porch; Shoto carefully picked his way across, careful not to slip on the smooth convex surfaces of the garden decor. He was relieved to feel the solid wood underneath his feet as he slowly, achingly mounted the three steps onto the veranda attached to his house. The porch swing swayed back and forth in the whistling wind, and Shoto’s aching knees protested for a moment, enticed by the promise of soft cushions— rain-soaked though they may be. However, Shoto persevered to stumble up to the front door, leaning against the frame for a second as the cold sapped the last bit of his strength.

He pressed his forehead against the wood, closing his eyes as he breathed in ragged breaths. The water cascaded from his hair, streaming down the painted door in thick droplets. He was so exhausted that he momentarily entertained just curling up on the floor right there, whether he caught cold or not. Just as the last dregs of energy were about to melt from his body and allow his knees to buckle him into a heap, he heard something soft and sweet drifting through the wood.

She’s singing, he thought with a sleepy smile as he heard the wordless melody drifting through the wood, carrying the warmth of home with it. He could hear her moving too, shuffling through the entryway as she passed from the living room to the kitchen. If he used his imagination, he could even fantasize the smell of what she was cooking; probably sweet-and-spicy curry, her favorite to make on rainy days like this. Shoto’s mouth watered at the promise of soft rice and savory meat steeped in thick, creamy sauce; guided by the phantasm of food, his hand gripped the doorknob and turned. As the door yielded, he stumbled over the threshold like a zombie, his primitive brain thinking only of dinner and the embrace of his loving wife.

“Shoto?” came her honey-sweet voice from the kitchen, where she was probably stirring a pot on the stove. Oblivious to the water puddling with each one of his unsteady steps, he shambled down the hallway, dropping his house keys into the little ceramic bowl on the dresser on muscle memory alone. “Honey? Is that you?” she called again, louder. He thought he had answered, but maybe he hadn’t. He was so tired. His thoughts were blurring, and his vision too; the entryway blended together in a mess of colors and shapes, making him groan and sway dizzily. He slumped against the wall, smearing water across its surface as he leaned heavily against it and fought hard to remain conscious.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered aloud, or maybe that was in his head. Was that a headache coming along? Or was that the rapid footsteps of his wife approaching? As the colors distorted, he reached out compulsively, hoping it was his lover’s blurry form approaching. He smiled dreamily as he felt her fingers link with his, squeezing tight as her other hand— so warm— smoothed over his pale, clammy cheek.

“Shoto, honey!” Momo gasped in alarm. In his addled state, her voice was like an analgesic, sending him drifting into a dreamy state of euphoria.

“Momo,” he slurred as he slipped forward, slumping against her. Momo squeaked and just managed to catch him, spreading her feet apart a little to brace herself against the man’s superior bulk. She laughed nervously as he nuzzled into her neck, breathing in her scent. He always thought she smelled like Earl Grey and vanilla, and no matter how many times the pleasant aroma graced his nose, it was just as intoxicating as the first time. “‘M home…”

“Yes, I can see that,” she chuckled, realizing that he was unharmed and just thoroughly exhausted. She rubbed his back soothingly through the sodden fabric of his uniform; every stroke of her slim, manicured fingers sent warmth blooming over his cold skin, like fire-bursts erupting over a cold tundra. “Hard day?” she asked knowingly, and Shoto nodded into her shoulder in response. Momo tutted understandingly and pressed a kiss to his temple, leaving her lips lingering there for a moment as she allowed him to rest against her. Even just her bearing his weight for a few minutes restored a little bit of strength to him, enough for his clouded mind to clear and allow the sun of lucidity to shine again.

“Cold…”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, honey.” Though his wearied body desired nothing more than to collapse against Momo for the rest of the night, Shoto forced himself to straighten back up, finally getting a clear look at his wife. She was wearing her favorite apron— the one with flowers on it that he’d gotten for her birthday— with a simple cotton dress underneath. Her long black hair was piled up on her head and tucked into place with a pair of decorative pins. Such a domestic look, and yet to Shoto she looked nothing short of a radiant goddess. Already, he was reaching out to hold her hips and snuggle her close, but she gently pushed his hands away.

“You’re soaking wet, Shoto,” she reminded with a small giggle. Her hands painted patterns in his wet palms for a second before running up his arms, over his shoulders, to his front so she could slowly ease the temperature-stabilizing apparatus off his back. It fell to the floor with a clunk. Her hands skipped down his front, traversing the planes of his pectorals and abdominals, before deftly unclasping his belt to allow it to fall to the floor too. She paused for a moment and Shoto peered at her through slitted eyes, meeting her own gaze that glimmered with affection and adoration. She kissed his nose, then his cheeks, then his lips before pulling back ever-so-slightly. “Thank you for coming home to me.”

Shoto’s eyes watered a little bit, the exhaustion making him a little emotional. Momo always told him that, every time he came home from hero duty, and he did the same for her. It was an unspoken promise to return home to the other no matter the circumstances, to fight through whatever danger they must to keep that vow. Shoto groaned and pushed forward, burying his face into her plume of downy-soft black hair and breathing in that smell of tea and vanilla he loved so damn much.

“Of course. Always. Thank you for waiting here for me, my love.”

“Always,” she echoed with another gentle kiss to his neck, her deft fingers pulling on the zipper of his costume to expose his chest. “You’ve fought so hard today. Let me take care of you, darling,” she whispered against the crook of his neck, making goosebumps rise wherever her warm breath ghosted over her skin.

Shoto had no qualms about that. If there was ever anyone he would completely surrender to, it would be her. She peeled the wet fabric away from his cold skin, shimmying it down his body until he was left in his boxers. Shoto stepped out of the sodden blue fabric as it fell to the floor with a wet slap. Momo wound her arms around his middle, stroking up and down his back with her fingertips as she pressed into him; as her body heat bloomed across his skin, chasing away the cold that had seeped down into his bones, Shoto groaned under his breath and hugged her tight.

“Love you,” he mumbled into her hair. He felt her body shake as she chuckled heartily.

“I love you, too,” she hummed, painting invisible patterns in the valley between his shoulder blades and leaning her cheek against his shoulder. They held each other like that for a minute, ignoring the water puddling around his rain-drenched clothes, before she quietly uttered, “Do you want to talk about it?” As she felt Shoto’s body go rigid, she hastily added, “You don’t have to, honey.” The tension melted from him then, and he slumped more against her.

“... Not yet. Just be with me, please?”

“Of course,” she nodded, but paradoxically pulled herself away from him. When Shoto tried to grab her again, a pitiful pout appearing on his features, she laughed and held him at bay with two hands on his chest. “I have to go turn off the curry. Why don’t you go get in bed, and I’ll meet you there in a minute?” When Shoto looked down at the clothes seeping water over the wood, she cupped his chin, tilting his face back up. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll clean it up. You’ll get cold again soon, standing out here in your underwear,” she said teasingly before skipping away like a fairy, the strings of her apron jumping as she bounced back into the kitchen. The chills beginning to propagate over his body trumped his desire to follow, so he immediately trudged to the back of the house, where their shared bedroom lay.

He moaned shamelessly as he slipped into the freshly-washed sheets and down comforter, which smelled of the lavender fabric softener Momo liked to use. Face buried in the pillow with only the crown of his head peeking out above the fabric, Shoto relished in the warmth beginning to cocoon him. He was already beginning to drift off to sleep when Momo came. He grunted in protest as she pulled the comforter away from his head, only to find it replaced with a soft, fluffy towel.

“Can’t have you catching a cold,” she laughed gently as she rubbed his hair with the towel. Shoto laid still, enjoying the gentle motions of her wringing the water out of his hair with the pleasant-smelling linen. Once she finished, she tossed the towel somewhere across the room and weaved her fingers through his bicolored locks to ease out the knots. A purr rumbled in Shoto’s chest as her fingers gently massaged his scalp too, and his eyelashes fluttered as he cracked an eye open to stare sleepily at her. “Better, love?”

“I’ve been better since I walked in the door,” he said honestly. He smirked in amusement at the flood of pink that bloomed over her cheeks. Even after all these years, she still flustered so easily.

“Do you want dinner?” she asked, looking away to hide her blush. Shoto shook his head, rolling on his side to loop his arms around her waist. Her hands came to rest on the top of his head as he nuzzled into her soft belly.

“No. Jus’ wanna lay with you.”

“All right,” she said softly. As Shoto scooched back across the bed to make room for her, still hugging her middle, she climbed onto the bed on her knees before shimmying down onto her side, snuggling up close to her husband. She hooked her leg over his, pressing so that every inch of their skin was touching, and Shoto responded by burying his face into her hair again. There were so many things about their relationship that Shoto loved, but the intimacy— the moments like this where he could let down his guard and bear his emotions freely— was perhaps the most important to him. It had always amazed him how Momo so effortlessly opened up her arms and let him in, held him close and whispered encouragement to him, loved him so deeply and wholly and purely that it made his heart ache.

“Love you,” he repeated shakily and squeezed her tight, craving even more closeness even though it was nigh impossible. This time, Momo just hummed in response, her fingers tracing patterns over the muscles of his back. As her gentle motions and presence guided him down into a sense of calmness and ease, the stress of the day finally melted fully from his body, causing him to release a big sigh. He curled into her, tears brimming on his lashes as he finally began to process what he’d endured out there.

“... I couldn’t save someone today. A little boy. I tried to get there, but… I just wasn’t fast enough,” he admitted in a hoarse voice. The tears dripped down from his eyes, threading her obsidian hair like dewdrops. He trembled as he fought the urge to retreat back into his shell because if Momo had taught him anything, it was that burying his trauma only made him feel worse in the end. The telling was as cathartic as it was painful. “Everyone told me that it happens sometimes, but… I still felt like such a failure.”

“Oh, Shoto,” she crooned soothingly, pulling back from him to meet his teary gaze. She gently cupped his cheek, pushing his bangs out of his eyes before stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I know, honey. I probably can’t tell you anything you haven’t heard today.” Shoto leaned into her touch, staring at her miserably. Smiling softly, she pecked him on the nose. “But all the same, you will never be a failure to me. Sometimes we win, and sometimes we lose… What matters is that when things don’t go our way, we find the strength to keep going and make tomorrow a better day.”

“Tomorrow is a better day,” he echoed slowly.

“That’s right,” she nodded encouragingly, running her fingers through his hair again. “Even heroes have bad days, love. That doesn’t make you a failure; that just makes you human.”

“I’m so glad I married the smartest person I know,” Shoto smirked, making Momo laugh and tip back her head. As her slim neck was exposed, ripe for the taking, he swooped in and pressed a few open-mouthed kisses to the smooth skin. She rumbled with a satisfied purr, continuing to stroke her nails along his scalp. After a minute of lavishing her neck in kisses, he relaxed back into her, drinking in that tea-vanilla smell and allowing it to lull him back into a state of drowsiness.

“Go to sleep,” Momo soothed as she sensed him trying to stave it off in favor of cuddling with her for a few more moments. “I’ll be here when you wake up, love.”

Tomorrow, when it’s a better day, Shoto finished drowsily, stifling a yawn. It’s true, he supposed, that even heroes had bad days… Some days, he really was Atlas, with the weight of the world bearing down upon his shoulders. But all it took was one glimpse of his Pleione— his Momo— to make him feel completely weightless, free, at peace.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#todomomo #shouto todoroki #shoto todoroki #todoroki shot #todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu momo #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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jennikkugoesoff · 4 years ago

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Monster

((Hi! I did this drabble to start feeling out some character personalities!))

((cw: Descriptions of Gore/Cannibalism, don’t worry nobody gets hurt, Light Horror, Lemon Demon’s in this, take with that what you will.))

"Keep looking. They've gotta be around here somewhere." Well, this had gone about as well as he'd expected. They were gone. Why had he agreed to help babysit the two most mischievous kids in town, did he really want to see her that much? Then again, this did sort of snowball into something bigger than he'd have liked. BF rolls his eyes and deeply sighs as he closes the bottom cupboards of the abandoned kitchen of the abandoned house. "They aren't here! I don't know where they could've gone, they just up and vanished!" he complains, adjusting his now-askew cap.

"They could've maybe just gone home. They're fairly independent for their age after all, and it's not like we're far from Lila's." GF suggested, peering into the kitchen from the open doorway. "They do know the neighborhood fairly well--" "Oh don't remind me, about once a week they come up to my apartment asking for candy." BF complains as he strains up to try and reach the top cupboards, just a little too short to reach them. "I-I've, had to start buying crappy candy regularly just to get them to fuck off." he sighs with a grunt, stretching his arms to their limits. GF chuckles as she walks up beside him and opens the cabinets for him, peering into them with him. "See, that's the ticket to this. You have to think like they do. Think about being a little kid obsessed with Halloween, where would you be hiding? They're probably snickering somewhere because we aren't coming up with the 'brilliant' hiding spot they have." she proposes, closing the cabinet after taking a good, long look. BF groans and rolls his eyes again, running a hand through his hair as he leans up against the kitchen's counter. "This is stupid. Why did we come here." he complains. "I mean, it was your idea, and I told you it was a bad idea." GF mentions. "Well you- should've- I-" BF defends, getting red in the face, before huffing and relaxing harder against the counter. "...Hey, don't worry. I can tell you're just worried about the kids. I didn't mean to drill you or anything. It'll be ok, we'll find them, ok?" she assures. "I hope so. I just--" BF's sentence was cut off by a sudden scream as he lurches forwards and starts patting himself off frantically, shaking himself off to reveal a roach skittering away after he'd knocked it off of the back of his arm. GF held her breath, but sighed with relief once she had realized what was going on, and, she couldn't help but chuckle a little bit. BF got even redder in the face. "Don't LAUGH at me!" he shouted. "What if that had been you?!" he whined angrily, his voice pitching and cracking. GF only laughed a bit harder. "I-, I mean...." she managed to get out. "I--" she tried to get out again, giggling it off. "I'm sorry, just, with how you screamed, I would've thought you'd seen a monster, and just--" CRUNCH.

The two young adults pause, and look off towards the source of the sound. "What was that?" BF asked. "...It, sounded kinda like-" CRUNCH. By this time, the gentle rain outside had turned harsh, the wind blowing scraped the overgrown branches against the windows. "...U-uh, kids?..." BF called out into the hallway where the sound had come from. ... Only silence. "Welp. I've heard enough, let's go." BF said, walking away. "Hold it there, sag-pants. You're not going anywhere until we find the kids." GF declines, grabbing her boyfriend by the back of his shirt and pulling him back. "Did you not hear that fucking inhuman crunch just now? It's probably EATEN the kids already!" he complained. "That's probably what we're hearing, the critch-crunch of their bones! Now let's not be horror movie white people and let's GO!--" he protests, trying to walk away again. "And what are we gonna tell Lila?" GF asks. "Oh, sorry, we left the kids in an abandoned house because we heard crunchy sounds that may or may not be a stranger, Skid and Pump are probably dead but at least we're still here!" she mocks with a faux-deep voice. "That ain't no stranger! That's a fucking monster!" BF protests, pointing off towards the living room. "Ok, look. If you're gonna be this much of a pussy bitch about it, I'll go and find the kids. You stay here in the living room." GF bites back, in a stern tone as she walks off. "Wait!--" BF says, stepping out into the living room, but it was too late. She'd already left. BF sighs to himself as she leaves. Well, this was a disaster. He'd put kids in danger and made GF mad at him. Or at least, it seemed that way. He hung his shoulders and put his hand on his forehead. He'd gone from starting to regret this to full on just regretting it. They were gonna be so disappointed in him, and even worse, they may have just proven how irresponsible they really were by hurting someone else's kids. Well, actually, someone else's kid and also another someone else's kid, but in a way, that was even worse. Actually no, scratch that, it was worse. Maybe though, maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe they were just heated in the moment and everything would be ok. Maybe she'd come back with the kids in just a minute. ...Yeah! Maybe he could explain all this. Explain himself. It'd be the right thing to do after all. He owed her an apology anyway after all. That was sort of a shitty little bout he had just now-- drip. Something hits BF on the shoulder. It felt like a rain drop, but it was warm. Surely it was just the pipes, right? This... house was like a bajillion years old, please just let it be the pipes. BF looks up slowly, white in the face. ... That's not a pipe. BF's eyes meet with another pair. These are cetainly not human eyes though, instead, they were large, bulbous and shining in the dark, but had large, void-like pupils that stared right through the human. BF doesn't scream. He doesn't move, he's frozen to his spot, all that escaped him is a broken breath of fear. The pair of eyes, keeping focus on him, moves slowly and methodically to the nearest wall, before a black, clawed hand begins pulling the shape of the figure down the wall. The head the eyes were socketed into was elongated, wrinkled and bright yellow, like a lemon. ...Actually, it was a lemon. Another clawed hand revealed that the ghastly form was crawling down the wall, like a spider, a disgusting chittering sound coming from it as it moved, although it was unclear whether it was making the sound or just it moving was. BF just began to sweat more and more as more of this horrible thing came into view. It had a long, skeletal body, yet velvety, jet-black skin that just barely draped across it's form, it's joints audibly popping and cracking as it moved. "Whaaat the... fuu...." the human trails, as this thing stood up. Well, kind of. It was too tall to stand at it's full height in the room, so instead, it bent over where it reached the ceiling. Most disturbing of all though. It could speak. And it does, as it leers down at him, smiling wide to reveal a mouth full of large, slightly yellowed human teeth that sat crooked in it's dark maw. "Well, well, well, what have we got here?" it asks, in a gentle, uncomfortably soothing male voice. "You're a long ways from home, aren't you, little human?" he- it, said. "W-what-- who, are... you?..." BF stumbled, taking several steps back as this thing slinked up to him like a snake, pinning him back against the wall. "Me?" the figure asked, almost curiously. "I go by a few different ones." he explained, drawing away from him. "The thing that goes bump in the night, the monster underneath your bed, or in your closet, or under the stairs, the thing from which you run, the something wicked this way comes... but most people, you know what they call me?" he asks. "W-what?" Then, the creature lets out a very human scream. A scream of pain, a scream of death, and dread. Then, he chuckles. "It's an affectionate nickname, I think." he clarifies, the disparity between the horrible shrieking and his paradoxically comforting voice uncanny. "But, let's not worry about formalities, and let's get down to brass tax." "You're a human, and you're in my territory, and that means you're game." he explains. "Game?..." BF queries. "Game, to hunt." the creature clarifies, with a chuckle. "And it's such good timing too, I love humans, my favorite part is the skin, and how at just the right temperature, it so easily peels from your-" But ever-so abruptly, the creature's dialogue was interrupted by the sound of heels on wooden stairs. "Hey! BF! I just got a call from Lila, the kids did go home! Apparently they got distracted for a while and just, left? We can finally get out of this-" GF cuts in, as she stops about halfway down the stairs. "Oh. Great. It's you." she sighs, rolling her eyes. "I should've known you'd be here, you creep." she says, taking several paces down the stairs and walking around to their sides, pulling BF out of the corner and close to her. "Y-you know this thing?" BF asked, clutching his girlfriend close. "Unfortunately." she adds. "Ohh, ohohoho... Gwen, you didn't tell me you had a little boyfriend." the monster coos, as he reaches out and draws a finger underneath BF's chin, but the hand is quickly slapped away by GF. "Don't touch him." she warns. "You couldn't stop me, even if you wanted to." he brings up, looking sly, as he slinks away from the pair. "Oh what to do with you two..." he says. "I've always wanted a two course meal..." he almost, whispers, drooling as a huge, rancid slab of meat lolls from his mouth and he licks his lips, tracing across one of his bulbous eyes like a lizard. "Yeah, whatever, you ain't shit." GF fires back. "Don't tempt him..." BF frantically whispers back. "He's fine. He won't do anything, just keep him talking, it'll get his guard down. He thinks we're weaker than him. No matter what he says, just, don't be afraid, ok?" she whispers back. "'Ain't shit'?" the monster asks, almost offended, and holding his hand up to his mouth, before chuckling. "I think you'll find I'm quite the connoisseur of... heh, alternative cuisine." he says, bending down at the pair, his breath stinking of the same rancid meat that his tongue appeared to be... and vague hints of citrus. "Hm, what to do is the question though, I mean, your skulls would simply make lovely little soup bowls, from which to drink your blood..." he said. "Or.. hm, your bones would make excellent broth, wouldn't they?" he asks. "Light, sippable... although I must confess, your little boyfriend's torso would make an excellent roast, stuffed with your guts, left to steep in the oven for five hours... just, thinking about that smell.." he describes, drooling heavily. BF was shaking like a leaf, clutching his girlfriend tightly. "Aren't you scared?!" he hiss-whispers to her. "Watch this." she says, with a wink and a smile, as she urges him off of her, and she walks away. "Or, maybe I could put you both on different racks of the oven... serve you both up on silver platters, and turn your teeth into- wait, where are you going?" A couple seconds of awkward silence follows as GF walks back into the kitchen, and pulls something out of the drawer. "Hey, you know what you should serve up with a couple of golden-brown human roasts?" she asks. "A nice, ice-cold glass of... lemonade." she says, as she hold out her hand to reveal a hand-juicer. The monster's tune then changes completely, his huge eyes widen even more and his pupils shrink as he sharply gasps, scuttling into the corner of the living room, forcing himself into the corner, his disproportionate bones seeming to almost disjoint as he takes on some unnatural-looking positioning to mash himself further into the corner. "H-hey now! T-there's no need for that! I-... h-heh, heh, c-c'mon now, I was just kidding! H-he, he gets it, don'tcha?" the monster defends, gesturing to BF as he tries to cover his ass as he slinks back. "Ohh, but weren't you just saying you should turn us into roasts? C'mon, wouldn't a nice thick lemon-rum glaze go nice with that?" GF asks, stepping forwards. "N-no! No! It wouldn't! You've got the flavors all mixed up! Y-you animals! Stay back!" he warns, thick beads of light yellow sweat falling from his face as his wide smile contorts into a wide frown. "I-I I, taste terrible! I'm sour! I'll make your lips pucker!" he fires. BF, having been impressed by all this, decides to step in himself, walking up and taking the juicer. "Oh but it'd be so nice though! Perhaps afterwards we could use the leftovers to make some tasty lemon squares?... Or maybe some lemon meringue pie?" he suggested, smiling devilishly as he watched the monster's face get increasingly horrified. The now quivering-monster shrieks in despair. "Y-you better... p-put that thing down right now, y-you, you barbarians!" he threatens, his bloodshot eyes going completely red as he begins stalking up towards them, growling. "Oh it's so satisfying, the sound that a halved lemon makes... when you squeeze it." BF croons, pretending to juice a lemon, and stepping forward. That was it for the monster, he couldn't take it anymore, so off he went, quick as a flash, whimpering like a dog as he scuttles away, climbing up the wall, breaking one of the windows and crawling through it like a distressed house centipede. BF stands there, feeling quite pleased with himself as he drops the juicer. GF giggles and claps. "Nice job, Hannibal. Let's get out of here before he realizes he's several feet taller than us." she warns. "Yeah. I think I've had my fill of spooks for one day too." BF agrees, as they head toward the front door, hand-in-hand.

#my work #Friday Night Funkin'#Friday Night Funkin #fnf bf #fnf gf #fnf lemon demon #sm skid and pump #Drabble #Fanfic

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faroreswinds · 4 years ago

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覇道 vs 王道 - By Someone With Limited Knowledge and a Short Attention Span

In light of the resurgence of the terminology used in the Nintendo Dream interview regarding 3 Houses, I wanted to take a little bit of a deeper look into "Hadou" (覇道) and "Oudou" (王道).

Again.

The Kanji Breakdown

Before we get into the actual words themselves, I wanted to break out the kanji that form them. Let's start with oudou. Oudou consists of two kanji, "ou" (王) and "dou" (道). This are very basic kanji. "Ou" means "king" and "dou" means path or road. With kanji, the makeup of the kanji can often (but not always) allude to the meaning of the word it represents, in this case something akin to "King's Path".

Similarly, we have 覇道 (Hadou). We have already discussed "dou" but "ha" (覇) means supremacy (over a nation), hegemony, domination, leadership. The combination of these two kanji alludes to a meaning of "domination road" or "hegemony path".

Great, but what do the words actually mean?

That's a bit tricky, because there is a lot of history, philosophy, and cultural subtleties to understand.

At their core, "Oudou" means righteous path, righteous government, just path, kingship, rule of right; "Hadou" means military rule.

Interestingly, oudou can also refer to "classic" in regards to games like rpgs, where the prince saves the princess, that sort of thing. It can also mean "short cut" or the "easy way" but we aren't really here for those particular definitions today.

Origin of Oudou and Hadou

Finding anything in English regarding these terms has proved to be a... difficult task. From what I can understand, though, is that these words find their origin from Confucius and his philosophy.

Confucius was a Chinese philosopher born in 551 BCE, and by all accounts seems to have been an ambitious man. Ambitious to correct the world. It would take a lot to dissect Confucius’ life story, so I only want to focus on the important parts that are related to the origins of Hadou and Oudou.

Simply put, Confucius is considered the founder of Confucianism, a philosophical relating to a system of thought and behavior. It is meant to dictate a way of life, a way of governing, tradition, etc. It rests on the fundamental belief that human beings are good and teachable, and focuses on the cultivation of virtue in a morally organized world.

Confucius had been a poor man and wished to find a way to restore a kind of socio-political order that had prevailed sometime in the beginning of the Zhou dynasty. His work over his lifetime would set in motion the teaching of Confucianism.

There is a very strong focus on humanness and morality in this school of thought. Rulers must cultivate themselves in this morality, lead by moral example rather than rule of law and threat of punishment. One who cultivates themselves to a virtue that is worthy of a prince is indeed a prince, but a prince who does not cultivate himself is not worthy of being a prince. This morality include the famous “golden rule” - do not treat others as you would not want to be treated yourself.

Confucius was very focused on “virtue” in leaders and people, but the evolution of Confucianism did not end with his death. Mencius, a Confucian philosopher born in 372 BCE, often described as the ‘second sage’ (second to Confucius himself), would expand on many of these ideologies Confucius had developed.

Mencius was more aggressive in his beliefs. He believed that a ruler who forsakes ethical behavior and engages in extreme misrule can and should be removed, even executed. Mencius believed that a ruler’s success was directly tied to the leader’s ability to win the hearts and minds of the people. The ruler needed the people, and the people were the heart of the power that the ruler had. The people gave legitimacy to the ruler. AKA, the common people were the focus.

Mencius would go on to disguise the difference between 徳化, inspired by virtue, and 武力, armed force, and made a distinction between the ‘royal road’ and ‘supremacy’.

Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can find in English that really goes into depth with Hadou and Oudou from here.

Confucianism in Japan

As with many things from ancient China, Confucianism found its way into Japan and was incorporated into the culture and history of the country, and this includes the mentality surrounding the political climate.

With the very conditional perspective that Confucianism affirmed in relation to governing, it would be no surprise to anyone that the teachings circulated the ruling elite first and foremost. A wider teaching would have posed more challenges to the ones in power, after all.

There was also the famous “Mandate of Heaven”, which I won’t go into too much depth here. But, I will put the relate bit here, source linked here:

According to numerous passages in the History, if a ruler repeatedly abandoned his concern for the people, heaven would eventually give the mandate to rule to a new line, one that distinguished itself on the basis of concern for the people. In this process, the role of the people was instrumental. One passage in the History even states that heaven and the people are nearly the same: “heaven sees with the eyes of the people, and hears with the ears of the people.”

Ultimately, as with many philosophies, the ways of governing did not fully embrace these teachings, as in so much as they were adapted. If you are interested in more, go ahead and read the link, but it’s really not too important for this post. However, what is important is that eventually, the teaching did make it to Japan, and were adapted to some degree.

Modern Use in Japan

As language does, words change and adapt.

Oudou and Hadou retain a lot of of their original meanings, but they do have modern uses that go beyond their meanings of forms of ruling.

Here is the link I originally had posted long ago regarding these usages. WARNING: Japanese only.

We have already discussed some meanings of Oudou beyond the ‘right way to rule’, including ‘classic’ or ‘short cut’ or ‘the right way to do something’, and of the two has required the most new usages; however, the connotations of these words have not changed.

Hadou and Outou are antonyms of each other. Hadou is very much a negatively connotated word, used most frequently to express someone’s abuse of power.

According to this article, politics really possess both Outou and Hadou. To quote the article with a bit of translation:

Both politics have a royal side and a supremacy side. Especially in diplomacy called power games, there is a reality that we have to rely on supremacy. However, if all politics becomes a "dominance", it will become a society of weak meat and strong food, devouring this finite earth, destroying the environment and driving it to the brink of destruction.

In other words, Outou is an idealist view of how governing should work. However, realistically you need both Outou and Hadou, but too much Hadou will lead to destruction. A balance is needed.

In Relation to Three Houses

When talking about this interview, we mean this one here. Unfortunately, I’m having a hard time finding the actual Japanese version, but according to the translated version, this is said:

Kusakihara: Edelgard’s route’s theme is literally “military rule.” It’s the route where you have your own cause and convictions, and even if people you know stand in your way, you mow ‘em down. In contrast, Dimitri’s route began with the idea to make it “righteous,” the easy approach. It’s just, at the beginning, poor sensitive Dimitri ends up like that because of the circumstances… We sprinkled in juxtapositions like that.

Everyone: (laughs)

Kusakihara: Once he’s fallen, he goes through some twists and turns and awakens to the true king’s path. I wanted to write the righteous route as the conquest route’s opposite [TN: lit. “paradox”].

This is pretty self explanatory. Hadou and Outou are two different ways to rule. In according to Mencius, Outou is the virtuous, right way; Hadou is the forceful, wrong way. They are opposites, and that is exactly what Kusakihara used them for. The routes are opposites of each other. Dimitri is the ‘right way’, the way of the people, for the people, the vitreous way. Edelgard is the destructive way, the forceful way, not the way of the people.

Actually, this does really line up even with their own beliefs. Edelgard believes in a strong leadership, that everyone should pull themselves up by their bootstraps, and only those who can keep up will find themselves in power. Dimitri, however, believes rulers serve the people, are only as strong as the people, and needs the people.

Kusakihara really did put thought into it... even if the story didn’t fully deliver. But the intent was there.

ANYWAYS

Thanks for coming to my ted talk about Hadou and Oudou. I could have gone into deeper depth but... Well, I don’t want to make a super big essay.

Thanks for reading.

Yes, I took writing shortcuts.

EDIT:

YOOOOOO, thanks to @nilsh13 for linking me to the original Japanese interview!

And yeah, they use 覇道 and 王道! Excellent!

Thank you so much!

#my thoughts #translation #3h discourse #hadou #oudou

27 notes · View notes

oristromboli · 4 years ago

Text

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 2

Chapter 2: Shine Like Stolen Gold

Stories aren't meant to be lost and forgotten.

When a timid bird comes knocking at his den, the dragon seizes the rare opportunity presented.

(Smut this chapter: Zhongli/Reader)

So, really, come on. When Aether is cooking some minty meat rolls or sticky honey roast, is it so hard to believe that he thaws their frozen meat to make up for when they lack the ingredients otherwise? Paimon really can’t complain, her mouth waters at the thought of it and a childish smile creeps on her face as her eyes glaze over.

Behind her, Aether is throwing his face in his hands in mortification at the realization that they ran out of chilled meat for goulash. Paimon vaguely registers your voice laugh-crying at Aether that now, they must go fight some unreasonably angry grandpa boars for their next meal.

Yep, the fairy rubs her belly completely content. The sticky honey roast was totally worth it.

She yelps when Aether grabs her ankle to pull her down to their level of reality. “Alright Paimon, think you can handle the cold without that goulash? We ran out of Frostshield Potion a while ago too, which reminds me, can you ask Lisa if she can make more?” Aether turns to you, and you take out your journal to note the next task with a little side note, circled twice: ‘Check all inventories before walking into deadly weather. Obviously.’

Paimon nods, though she puts on a big show of rubbing her arms with a cheeky grin. “Paimon will be okay! The sooner we get off this mountain though, the better.” Nobody disagrees with her, but some hours into climbing the mountain and Paimon is grumbling once again. This time though, it’s not about the cold, oh no.

Aether gave her the golden Seelie to hold and act as a firefly while she scouts for the next torch.

You would laugh harder, really, you would, but every breath you take in this frozen wasteland seems to burn your lungs even more. The sensation reminds you of how Venti once spoke sparkly-eyed about a Snezhnayan drink called Fire-Water that ignites the body while freezing their breath. If not for your collective appearances seeming to be ruefully young for this world, you’re certain that Aether and Venti would have somehow convinced Diluc at this point to import the drink just for them.

Though, come to think of it, you’re not entirely sure if you want to see the havoc that would indubitably follow the drunken duo. After all, you already remember how Aether was shy of throwing a dumpling at Zhongli when he enthusiastically ordered wine-soaked rice balls instead, and that was when Aether was sober.

Your commission involves collecting some of the old books left behind in the libraries littered throughout Dragonspine for the researchers at the base of the mountain. While normally not a difficult task, the blizzard appears to be picking up just to spite you three. If only there was… Aha! “Aether! Paimon!” The two turn at your calls and frantic waving, pointing to the cave just to your right. All three of you missed this hidden entrance – that’s it, time to go inside and wait out the weather. If none of you caught this, then most definitely the visual conditions were progressing from bad to fucked. Stars, you can’t even think beyond trying to get warm.

While Aether kneels to light a cooking fire, you shuffle forward and take stock of your surroundings. All in all, the walls certainly saw better days, but there is no shortage of old books to rifle through for information. Paimon is a step ahead of you though as she floats (wobbles) towards you, carrying two books that are double her size at least. Through your combined efforts, you manage to find a decent number of books to ferry back for the researchers while Aether finishes cooking some jewelry soup.

Gods, the speed Paimon dive bombs for her bowl rivals the hawks over the Liyuen mountains. Magpies are cute and dive too, right? Maybe Paimon is part magpie, with her big eyes and penchant for swooping the unfortunate souls who wander too close to her food.

You shake the thoughts out as you consume your own dish. The silence among you three is not unwelcoming, though you can tell Paimon is itching to say something. Bracing yourself, you take in a deep breath and –

“Do you and Aether ever visit old worlds again?”

Choke on your food. You choke on your food, all elegance and style gone as Aether is clearly not expecting such a question either. Paimon huffs, though she looks more concerned about the wasted food Aether spat out rather than Aether himself.

“We, uh…” Aether coughs, hitting his chest a bit before going silent. There is a shift in the atmosphere, even the embers in the fire long ago dying to merely whispers of warmth. Golden eyes mellow as Aether looks hazy, distant all of a sudden. “We don’t go back usually, no. Why do you ask?”

Paimon scratches her head. “Well, Paimon noticed that every time we come here, there seems to be more to the story of an old kingdom here. The paintings and the books… It’s like they wanted to be remembered, but they weren’t.”

You close your eyes, ears straining as Aether attempts to formulate a proper response. “It’s… We,” he gestures between you two, “We don’t belong to any world. We never did.”

The wind picks up, nearly deafening. What a confession, the wind whispers. What a blessing of freedom.

What a burden.

“You remember how I told you that we were travelers? Well, our people are tasked with, ah, watching those we encounter. We try to learn all of the stories and knowledge of our charges; to our people, that is worth more than all the golden Mora in Teyvat.”

“Oh! Oh! Is that why you’re so glowy and yellow?”

Aether laughs, shoulders relaxing a bit. “Yeah, I just took all the wealth of our old worlds and made it a part of my outfit. That way I’ll always be rich.”

“Ehhh? But why waste treasure like that?”

“Because I’m the real treasured cutie here,” he deadpans, proudly puffing out his chest, only to duck when you and Paimon immediately throw your spoons at him. The atmosphere is lighter now, happier.

You don’t hear the wind anymore, just Paimon and Aether. Only them, always them.

“Anyway… That’s the great paradox of our duty, though. We learn best by walking among them, but never with them. But we try not to visit the same place twice. Stories, once ended, always make way for another chapter. Each new world we walk into, we carry with us the knowledge of all worlds past and try to understand why people act the way they do. We were never mortal, so it’s…” He trails off, unable to complete that sentence.

“Paimon doesn’t get it though. Why do your people watch, if they never actually participate? Isn’t that the whole point of reading a book versus building a library?”

Aether stops, stunned into silence. You close your eyes tightly. Sometimes, Paimon’s naiveté can really hit the mark on all things wrong in a system.

When you were born into the universe, you were simply given one duty: to watch and record. The blinding brilliance a new star is meant to guide, acting as the light in the night sky. However, the only answer your elders gave was that it was the will of the primordial force guiding you all. Your family promised you then that you would find more explanations in the mortal realms, for no star is truly alone.

These answers still elude you, though, as they do Aether. How long have you been lost like this?

Did you stop counting your age because of your immortality, or because you refused to face another year no closer to the truth?

Nobody remembers who came before. Nobody talks of the distant, quiet stars above your own people, separate from their arrogant claims.

“There is a saying from one world we traveled to,” you begin carefully, “that says ‘you can never go home.’ It means that when you leave a place, you can never come back to the memories you made there. Nothing will be the same, because you will have changed in your journey.”

Paimon floats gently down between you and Aether. It is then you notice she still cradles the Seelie, her wide eyes reflecting the golden light that pulses. She kindly reaches for Aether’s hand and gives him back their newest companion before softly smiling. “Not all journeys are bad ones though, right?”

“Paimon,” Aether breathes, “I – “

“Like our next journey to get the heck outta here! Paimon’s hungry.”

“And there it is,” you laugh. Standing up, you offer your hand to Aether as you pull out the map. He leans forward before tapping a point near the camp full of adventurers. Paimon squints and nods, then disappears in a show of light. It’s beautiful, you admit to yourself. All the light, the warp of space-time, the blessed departure of squeaky Paimon. Really brings a tear to your eye sometimes.

“Hey,” Aether says, grabbing your arm. “Are you okay?”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “You’re the one who answered her question. Are you?”

He laughs and looks away. “Yeah, I am. Just shocked that Paimon used up her daily brain power allowance in one go.”

---

Later, when you three stop by Wangshu Inn, Aether strides to the edge of a balcony from one of the many layers and can’t help his wandering thoughts to Paimon. He never cared much for deeper probing and purposes to his journey, he left that to you and Lumine. Adventure and fun always drew him instead, the promise of being chainless. He saw the ability to travel between worlds as a blessing, one where he can be untethered to nearly everything. No, he’s sure his sudden obsession with Paimon’s question is just because he didn’t expect Paimon to be so insightful. That’s it, it has to be.

He thinks of Lumine, of how she would have thoroughly enjoyed this view.

She is always the one reaching out to the locals, to guide and let them follow her back to the path of righteousness – or whatever was deemed lawful during that time, at least. Different worlds, different definitions. At least here, he tries to do what’s right by the people and helping with their (endless) errands. That’s what Lumine would have wanted. What does he want, though?

Well, for starters, he wants to find his sister, his other half, his twin star. Aether smiles to himself as he counts off all the nicknames he has for his little sister, how he plans on releasing Paimon on Lumine to see what the little fairy’s new nickname for her would be. A frown graces his lips though as he follows that thought, of names and designation and purpose.

It’s no secret that the Vigilant Yaksha established here his… home? Home, Aether decides, if only to avoid the sadder options. He remembers Xiao’s long conversation with him beneath the floating lanterns, of how Rex Lapis gifted him his name to give him renewed meaning and life. To protect those he once consumed.

Aether hopes that the adeptus can find that peace one day; as someone who travels worlds, who has seen that darkness between the stars, he knows the shadows are no welcoming place. Still, his heart warms when he remembers Xiao’s tireless watch, knowing that the spirit will come to his aid should Aether ever call his name. He never had someone do that for him, if he was being honest, that level of attentive care. It was always his people helping others.

It’s nice, he thinks. Real nice.

That’s why he resolved long ago to offer the same protection to the adeptus, much to the latter’s scorn, but Aether really didn’t care to listen to his grumbling, he was going to help, damn it. Aether thinks back to Venti, to the bard’s soulful flute and insistence on freedom from chains.

When he goes back inside, he muses, he’ll ask you to write a new quest: ‘Introduce Xiao to Venti.’ Somehow, someway, he plans on helping Xiao out of that darkness that Lumine fell into. Maybe this is his own redemption. Penance for lifetimes of no responsibilities, no cares, no duty to uphold for a singular cause. Look at where it got him now. He’s lost without Lumine as a tether.

He’s not going to give up on Xiao, damn all the others that did. Xiao never gave up on Liyue, so why should Aether?

The blonde turns when he hears your approaching steps and smiles. You return it, bringing him a bowl of sweet almond tofu. Not your own cooking – Aether would have heard the commotion first – but he’s grateful, nonetheless.

“There’s some jerk bullying a kid!” Both of your ears piqued at that, but you don’t bother trying to contain the fit of giggles at the ridiculous statement. You’re sure that someone would have dealt with the jerk by now, anyway.

“Who bullies a kid anyway? It’s like kicking puppies,” you mumble around the food in your mouth. Come on now, that’s a new low, even for Hilichurls.

Aether looks down and spies Paimon with two bowls of sweet almond tofu, full speed ahead like the devil himself is on her heels. Only, when he discovers the figure behind her, the flash of green and smoke and a spear trying to turn Paimon into a kebab, he nearly chokes again on his food.

Hey. Hey, wait, that’s –

“Shit,” he grumbles, “that’s my idiot.”

---

The sun is kissing the horizon by the time you three make it back to Liyue Harbor. Your daily commissions complete and with enough Mora for the week, you nearly make it back to your inn before you catch the unmistakable lilt of a deep voice in the air. Zhongli?

Aether and Paimon catch on, and after a second, make their way to the source of the sound. The former Archon spots you three and his eyes crinkle before he stands. “Oh? I didn’t think I would see you here.”

Be still, beating heart, and thank the stars for the fading light casting everyone with a soft glow to hide your flush. You close your eyes, listening to Aether and the archaeologists ramble about Lord of Geo this, God of Wealth and Commerce that, something about the catalytic power of Mora.

When you open your eyes, you find Zhongli’s own on you instead. Huh?

Aether kicks your foot lightly and you turn to him, blinking again. “Hey, saddle up. We’re going on another adventure.” You deflate slightly; to be honest, you were hoping for a chance to rest and reflect on the conversation with Paimon. Stars, you can’t handle more of this right now, not in this… state. Mentally you’re flailing, trying to keep thoughts buried while you open your journal to mark the next task, because with thinking came emotion and with emotion came trying to understand why Paimon’s question stung you. You always believed these idle thoughts to be private questions, private sins about your loneliness in your duty. How far from the path have you two strayed for even an outlander to notice?

Still, you bite your trembling lip and nod. Back to work like always.

---

You grab Zhongli’s hand as he hoists you up the cliff, your own arms quick to turn to jello. In front of you, you can hear the Fatui agent and archaeologist bickering over something, but you’re frankly too tired to care. Aether’s voice cuts through, trying to make peace. Or, really, trying not to pummel them both, but who cares about nuances? You say tomato and Aether says ‘gimme a sword.’

As you sigh and stretch your back, Zhongli smiles at you before observing the ocean once more.

Your throat is parched, but that’s not the first thing you think of. “I miss him,” you say, “Tartaglia.”

He nods. “I do as well. Are we selfish in desiring his company over his duty?”

You hum. “Well, it’s only natural to want to see your friend again, right?”

Zhongli blinks. “Indeed. Friend.”

Curious. The old god wanted Tartaglia to stay, to study him, thrilled in discovering a mortal so foolish for the first time in many millennia to challenge the Lord of Geo. A selfish want, yes, but present nonetheless.

He thinks he hears Guizhong. “Morax,” she chides, “you cannot hoard people.”

Did you want Tartaglia to stay for something else? He was certain you understood his own desire for the man with your gift mirroring his symbolic chopsticks, even if the Harbinger did not. Is Zhongli’s courting too old-fashioned?

“Ye-ap,” you smile. “He was a good partner-in-crime.”

Not for the first time, Zhongli thinks that perhaps, something is lost in translation.

“Indeed.”

---

Forget Dragonspine. Things have somehow gone from fucked to holy stars keep it together don’t cry don’t cry –

“Your legacy? Your legacy,” you begin, voice shaky. Zhongli turns to stare at you, like… Like… “No. No, you do not get to look at me like that, like you’re Morax. Morax wouldn’t do this.”

Aether and Paimon whip their heads to look at you then. You stop and turn upwards, eyes searching, and take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

Clouds cover the night sky. Cowards.

“We are tasked with remembering, yes. You know this. But don’t you dare imply your legacy was for naught.”

Zhongli’s lips tighten. A single tear falls when you look back at him.

“Mora transforms, yes? Maybe then,” you start and begin waving your arm around, gesturing to the ocean before you all. “Maybe this is a transformation. No god that passes is ever truly gone in Teyvat, so don’t you dare say that something so sacred has departed Liyue. She lives on in her ideals, her beliefs.”

The old god turns to look at the ocean. He thinks back to Ningguang and Guizhong. “Like a cycle? Is this what you have learned on your travels?”

You nod. “Morax knew there was power in mortals, there was potential. As the God of Wealth, does it not logically follow that he would understand that mankind is divinity transmuted? When these men come and go, their souls return to the divine. Nothing is ever truly gone.”

He scoffs at that, but nothing infuriating. It sounds more disbelieving. Still, he turns to you, though you don’t see it. “Rain that rejoins the river into the great ocean is no different than the clouds that made it.” His heart aches. Why does his heart ache? “Perhaps, when the clouds form once more, we shall see the revival and birth of gods anew.”

When you look at him, Zhongli is already gazing back out at the see, a distant memory washing across his eyes. You know of his connection to Guizhong, know of his pride to discover that her tablets still stand strong when you and Aether stumbled across them.

Suddenly, your heart falls in your stomach and you feel sick. “Come on,” you mumble to the other two present. They nod and you open the map, once again deciding that tonight is just too much.

Zhongli stares long and hard at the spot you three stood in, then turns to the stars above as they emerge from cover. The ring in his hand is gently twisted, around and around. He thinks of Aether, of Paimon, of you. Of how, no matter how close to the heavens a mountain dares to try and touch, it can only wait for the light to warm its barren earth and the rain to form once more.

The stars only twinkle back.

---

All right, well, the plan to stay in your inn and once again contemplate Teyvat’s frankly depressing history just went out the window. Literally.

You jump from the bedroom and open your glider to land in a hidden corner to not attract too much attention. Moments like this, Mondstadt is perfect for you; the drunkards leaving the tavern at this hour would just look at you glide by and raise their mugs in understanding. Life is like that sometimes.

Aether and Paimon long ago fell asleep, you made sure of that. It’s annoying that your exhaustion is now to the point where you can’t even fall asleep, thoughts dance just out of your reach, and even the ocean breeze as you shuffle close to the docks no longer tickles your senses.

When you hear your name called, you stop and turn around to find Zhongli ten paces behind you. Ah shit, here we go again.

“I was hoping, though not expecting, to find you out. You appeared distraught when you left, so I went to Bubu Pharmacy to retrieve some medicine.” As he walks closer, you stand up straight and look at the bag in hand. He holds it out to you and you smile at his amber eyes, pupils in slits as he presents his gift to you with all the grandeur of a cat dragging a mouse to its master.

However, when you open the bag, you stop and look back at him. “Chamomile,” you say, voice flat.

“Yes.”

“You got me tea.”

“Yes. Is something the matter?”

You sigh and rub your eyes. “You could have gotten this at a regular herb shop and not been robbed blind.” He winces as realization dawns on him, nodding along, but then.

Then you start giggling.

It’s stupid, it’s so stupid and your mind is tired beyond reason and here you are laughing at the God of Wealth spending his money for you and got robbed for it. You cover your mouth, but you feel your wrist gently pried from your mouth and you gasp as Zhongli examines at you inquisitively. He smiles too. “Would you care for me to brew this tonight?”

You nod and babble what you hope to be a thank you, incapable beyond reason of any coherent thought, save for one. Food. Flipping him around, you instead take him towards the nearest food stands still open at this hour – at least feeding drunkards is universal – and lead him to the most appetizing.

It doesn’t escape you that his hand glides down your wrist to grasp your fingers gently.

---

Some hours passed and you both settled long ago in front of Wanmin Restaurant for a gamble of Xiangling’s choice of mystery dish. When you first discovered this new weekly option, the three of you had widely ranging reactions: you politely tried to hide your shudder, Aether more openly grimaced, and Paimon was dragging you both by the collars as you desperately dug your heels in.

Conversation flows easy between you two, and you click your chopsticks at Zhongli as you take another bite from a perfectly cooked chunk of meat. “I think you would benefit from some hobbies other than work, you know.”

He arches an eyebrow and puts down his cup of baijiu. “I am attempting to integrate a mortal life. Is it not logical to work within Liyue as one?”

“Well, yes, but actually no,” you drawl and smile behind your cup at Zhongli’s expression. “You should do other things, too! Enjoy life, take long walks, play some xiangqi, meditate – “

“Dear Celestia,” he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I am not some grandfather you need to care for. I am old, not dying.” Vaguely, you register a quiet grumble and a why do I even bother.

“What was that, hmm?” You raise your hands to cup your ears, hoping to draw out more of his frustration. Instead, Zhongli’s lips curve up at you with a combined expression of haughtiness and mirth.

“Apparently, I am not the one who requires hearing aids.”

“Touché.” You swipe the bottle of baijiu and pour a small shot for yourself. “D’ya remember in the immediate aftermath of it all, Childe kept bowing and calling you zu fu? I personally think he was on to something.”

The ancient god only grouses as he pours himself another drink. “My temptation to indulge his battle lust then has never been so appetizing. The argumentative fool.”

You shrug. “He was looking to get a reaction out of you. It worked, didn’t it? The great Rex Lapis irritated by an incessant fly! Oh, the scandal that would cause, the humiliation.” Dramatically, you throw your hand over your forehead and lean back, the spitting image of a damsel-in-distress in one of Lady Ying’er’s lustier novels.

Zhongli smirks then and laughs low, a purr more than anything, before gathering his empty dishes to leave a bag of Mora in the center of the table. You’re proud, you really are, though you bite your tongue from any more comments on the old god remembering his money for once.

It’s a while before you both speak again, a silent agreement between the two of you to finish your bottle before moving on. He is the first to break, though you don’t expect the next words. “When I took the seat of Geo Archon offered by Celestia, I never thought this day would come.”

Tilting your head, you scoot a bit closer. He glances at you, posture pristine and relaxed, though you feel rather than see the tension in his taut body. “Why?”

“Because,” he begins, pursing his lips as he thinks. “I am – we are – immortal. Therefore, I suppose I simply did not see an end to my duty.”

“How sad,” you murmur. His eyes dim, so you put your hand on his shoulder to ground him before he sinks further into his memories. “Duties should only be taken when you see a future for it, rather than a lack of an ending. When the day came, I am glad you recognized the need to put down the mantle.”

Zhongli’s eyes burn into you, and realization dawns on you as you think of the potential reason for his intensity. Is it because of - ?

“I’m really sorry for my behavior at Wangsheng, really, I am. You were burdened with a seemingly never-ending duty, it wasn’t fair for my anger to cloud my judgment.” You try to look away, but Zhongli’s hand placed over yours keeps you still.

“Your frustration was reasonable.” He pauses for a second. What was that look in his eye? “You observe those around you just as I once did, though I have stepped into the story. Are you and Aether able to put down your duties as well?”

You quickly withdraw your hand and look away, biting the inside of your cheek. Not him too. “I don’t know,” you breathe. If Zhongli wasn’t so close, he wouldn’t have heard you. He takes a deep breath before offering his hand. Taking it, you both stand, and he releases you as he begins walking away from the restaurant.

“I believe we still have some tea to brew, yes?” You grin at his question, warmth settling in your stomach. Tea. That sounds nice.

As you travel with him, the silence stretching once again, you can’t help but think of Zhongli’s eyes once more. Bah, damn your crush, he only looked at you as a god would a pleading mortal, he’s beyond your realm of comprehension and –

You try to stamp the disappointment before that thought keeps going further. Exhaustion begins to creep in your bones, you’re certain the late night is the cause for your distress, but that doesn’t stop your cynicism.

How could a god understand the burden of stories, of keeping records tirelessly? He’s the God of Contracts, but your contract doesn’t end.

Damn the pity in his eyes.

---

(It wasn’t pity, something whispers. Compassion. Tenderness. Wrath.

All things must be fair, Zhongli thinks. Your contract never was.)

---

By the time you’re in his apartment and sitting at his table, you’re sure you’ve spent the better part of ten minutes gaping like a fish at the luxury of it all. Each item’s quality is beyond description, truly, but you still fumble about in your mind trying to find the words anyway. Rich? Decadent? Unnecessary but very nice? Paper lamps are littered around you, both hanging in the air and on side tables, and you can’t help but notice the soft, hazy golden glow the light casts over the room. Somehow, you’re sure you smell incense burning somewhere…

The colors are earthy in tone, but what surprises you is the abundance of plants – mostly silk flowers and glaze lilies - along the windows and corners carefully placed, following the patterns of feng shui. Stone walls curve around, and the plants appear to rest in the embrace of the circular patterns carved within, perfectly matching the decorations. As the hand-carved furniture, laced with golden accents and filigree, weave into the background, you can’t help but appreciate the apartment’s forest-like ambiance. His den is warm, welcoming, and soft, a far cry from the image of a Geo Archon. All that’s missing is some art and –

There it is. That tapestry Childe bought the day you received your own token.

Before you can stop it, the quiet voice in your mind croons at the memory of him.

You’re only snapped out of your thoughts when Zhongli returns with a tea set and places one cup before you to carefully pour before joining your side. He blows the tea before sipping it, all the serenity afforded to an ancient god.

You pause, smile lost now. “I’m sorry.”

Amber eyes open and scrutinize you. “For what? You have already apologized before for nothing, starlight.”

Rolling your head side to side, you lower your gaze and find solace instead at the steam rising from the tea. There goes that damn nickname again. “For disrespecting your wishes. Your legacy is important to me, but what’s important to you is that you… You…”

It doesn’t have to be said. Zhongli pauses and puts his own teacup down. “You and Aether once informed me of your people’s duties in recording stories. My hope is that my time as Zhongli marks the end of Liyue’s need of me, to close that chapter in Morax’s story.” You frown at that.

“As Zhongli?”

“Yes,” he breathes, smile small but distant, “you were right on the cliff. Morax would not have made the decision Zhongli did. I am no longer that god.”

You reach over and grab his hand, his eyes meeting yours again. “If you are no longer him, then why is Zhongli the end of Morax’s story and not the beginning of his own?” He only makes a soft rumble in response, and not for the first time do you marvel at how lost he appears. “Your journey as Zhongli is not another contract. You shouldn’t start this journey the same way you started your duties as the Geo Archon.”

“Oh?”

Suddenly, Paimon’s question rings clear in your head. “As immortals, we naturally process things slower, we have more time to. Time is given to us to see the future and learn, not to dwell on the past. Otherwise, we waste this gift,” you murmur. Gods help you; you think this next statement is going to kill you but it needs to be said. “I’m sorry about all those you’ve lost.”

Great, just great, way to bring up his old friends. Still, you felt the need to blurt it out, if only so someone could say it to him once. Just once.

Zhongli’s hand turns so that his palm faces yours and his fingers entwine in your own. It’s a long time before he speaks, and if it wasn’t for his gentle grasp, you were sure that the former Archon was furious.

He must be using his elemental powers, he has to be. Why else are you petrified?

His eyes move, looking through your hands. Beyond, beyond. What does he see?

“They would have wanted me to move forward. I honor their memory through remembrance, and hopefully now, movement. All things must return to dust, though I do not rush the journey,” he eventually replies. Only, you look closer, and his eyebrows are barely furrowed, the only sign on his otherwise perfectly composed face of the emotion lurking underneath. “I do not know how she saw fit to be my mentor, to guide such a bloody god out of the battlefield. She saw a nurturer, where I saw only the destruction my hands have wrought eons ago.”

You don’t have to ask to know who he refers to.

It’s stupid, it’s bold, it’s desperate, but you’ve already gone this far, haven’t you? You bite your lip and ask gently, selfishly, “May I remove your gloves?”

He looks to you and nods, relaxing his grip and not bothering to hide the confusion carved all over his face. As you slowly peel off his gloves, you see his dark hands lined with geometric patterns glow dimly, the shade matching his own amber eyes. Fuck, he’s so beautiful, the statues and paintings of him do him no justice; the muscles along his arm flex in reaction when you begin to trace his fingers, inch-by-inch, from the tips to the palm. Reverence fills your eyes as you suddenly understand why so many mortals threw themselves to the floor beneath him in worship.

These are just his hands, though. Should you ever be blessed to see him fully, by the stars, you think you would die and ascend to Celestia right there.

You feel his steady gaze on you, but you don’t care. Home stretch, here we go, how much further can you test these boundaries?

“Do you ever wish you could have changed the outcome?”

He scoffs. “Wish? A god does not wish. What Celestia commands, we obey. Seven seats there were, and so the fighting began until seven victors remained.”

“Sure, but I mean, that’s in the past now. A name both defines a purpose and limits it.” A sentiment both you and Aether share, for those who traveled countless worlds surely held countless names. Zhongli fondly remembers his first encounter with Alatus, but he frowns, nonetheless.

“I will forever carry the scars as the former Geo Archon. I may leave Morax behind, but I can never forget that I am still him, buried beneath this visage and burdened with the weight of that knowledge.” He clenches his hand again, but you spread them out and begin slowly tracing the golden lines along his palm and forearm.

“Hm,” you hum, “that’s odd.”

“What do you see?” Zhongli says, voice pitched an octave lower than before. Subtly, you feel your core heat and you rub your thighs together, though not enough to draw attention.

“Your hands… I don’t see any blood, just these flowers you’ve cultivated,” you beam, eyes flicking to the silk flowers and glaze lilies permeating the room. Maybe it’s the scent, or the lingering baijiu in your system, or the fact that Zhongli’s eyes are on you, but you feel drunk and bold and stupid so you bring his hand up to your face to snuggle. The anxiety in your stomach melts when you feel his rough hands against your cheek. “Warm too. They’re no different than a man’s. Than Zhongli’s.”

When his lips part, your eyes follow the movement and he stares at you for a long time. Those eyes flicker between yours, fully present and watching you now as they pierce your own.

Are you leaning in, or is he? Fuck it. “Kiss me,” you rasp, pleading and hopeful.

You groan when he moves forward and finishes that thought, deftly moving his other hand to your hip to rub small circles with his thumb. How are his lips so soft? All you can feel is his movements against yours, though you register him eventually breaking apart. His pants mingle with yours, and gods if he doesn’t come back you’re going to throw a bitch fit.

“Was that alright?” he murmurs. Ever the gentleman, you bemoan. Instead, you opt to whine lightly as you drag your unoccupied hand up his chest, cooing at his own gasps as you creep farther up.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, “Please, again, let me –“ You reach over and begin unbuttoning his shirt. Zhongli leans back slightly to allow you more access – though the cheeky god turns his head and peppers your forehead with kisses along the way - and you move both hands to wrangle off his garments. After a few minutes of fumbling, you manage to bare his upper chest, but you pause in appreciation.

Oh, oh stars, you thought you were going crazy for his hands. Truly, you feel like a debauched Sister to Barbatos when you took all of Zhongli in; his hair tussled, lips mumbling something, and his eyes – fuck they are following your every motion. It’s almost predatory. You register somewhere that he’s still rumbling something, but you raise your eyebrows and dig your hands into his chest again, twisting the silken fabric. “I d-don’t, I don’t speak Liyuean, what was that?”

He laughs, solid and rich and you’re in deep. Zhongli takes one of your hands to kiss the palm, then the wrist. His eyes flutter open and look at you again, all mischief and pride still lacing his perfectly composed features.

It’s not fair, you think. Some stupid divine gift of being perfect all the time.

“I spoke Common, dear,” he replies and slowly kisses up your arm before moving to your shoulder. You tense as he leans forward, all but nuzzling your cheek as he whispers, “I asked if you would prefer to take this to the bedroom?” He says something else after, and this time you’re sure it’s Liyuean as he concludes by gently, playfully grazing his teeth over your cheeks and jaw and neck.

Two can play that game.

You mumble something in response with your own native tongue, all chirps and purrs and light tones. Zhongli pauses and turns back to look at you inquisitively, single eyebrow arched. It’s endearing. “I said that tonight, you’re mine.”

He smiles and you suddenly feel the world spin as – oh fuck are you being lifted? You were trying to be smooth with your earlier statement, corny as it sounded, but this. This fucker literally swept you off your feet.

Yeah, not fair at all.

“Then, dear starlight, allow this old adeptus to humbly offer himself to your whims.”

“Hmm,” you purr, “You offer? Sounds awfully sacrilegious coming from a former Archon.”

As you’re taken to his bedroom, Cor Lapis eyes make a show of inspecting your body he carries before eventually meeting your own. “I am no longer that Archon.” His voices dips even lower, sultry and husky and possessive. “Tonight, I am Zhongli. I am yours.” You gasp as he sits down on his bed and pulls you back in with another kiss, light nips and moans. The debilitating arousal that hits you soaks your undergarments as you realize that this god, Prime of the Adepti, is begging for more on his proverbial knees.

Yeah, you think as you open your mouth and welcome him, this works. His tongue is warm and silky; somewhere, you feel his hands making quick work of your clothing, so you try to return the favor. After you unceremoniously toss his clothes – and ignore his offended puffs – you lean back, admiring the now shirtless Morax as he spread his legs further, nearly coy if not for that devilish smirk. His brown and gold marks extend all the way to his shoulders, reminding you once more of all that those hands have achieved.

Maybe… Maybe will do to you later too, you think, suddenly shy. When you feel cold air strike your core, you shiver, only now realizing that the god stripped you quickly without your notice.

Seeing him spread out like this, legs apart and chest bare, you can’t help but wonder how the statues littering Liyue do him no justice, not by a long shot. You sink to your knees before him, and he makes a confused sound, leaning forward only to halt when you place a hand beneath his naval.

“I thought you were the one to be worshipped tonight,” he mumbles, though clearly not opposed.

“Mm, my whims, right? I just – “ You lean forward and trail your lips up his thighs. “ – really – “ Another kiss, closer, closer. “ – want to taste you.” His breath stutters as you kiss his bulge, relishing in his earthy scent. Somehow, he always still smells of silk flowers, an undercurrent to what you experience now. You glance up at him and undo his pants; as you reach forward, you let just enough of his cock through before you shift forward and let him slide into your hot mouth.

Morax growls at you, and oh fuck that’s doing something to you as another wave floods you, settling low and deep to soak your thighs. He bucks his hips slightly to reach further into your hot mouth and you rush to keep your hands on his thighs. Not that it would help, really, but it reassures you that somehow, you’re still in control. As you move forward to further take him in your mouth, you simultaneously strip him of his last clothing and pull it down to his ankles before he kicks it away somewhere. Truth be told, you’re torn between making this as slow and reverent as possible or drink from him like he’s a fountain in a desert.

You settle for somewhere in between as you slowly move your head back and forth, swallowing around him when you can’t take any more, and you lift your hands to stroke what’s left. Stars, he’s thick and long, your jaws ache just from taking him this much.

As you pull back, a trail of spit connecting his leaking head to your lips, and you flush when you realize – “Only halfway?”

Zhongli chuckles above you and cards his hand through your hair. “It’s okay, starlight, we can – “

“No.” You interrupt him to take his throbbing cock again, but you begin tracing a warm and wet line down his shaft instead, and he groans low. You’ve wanted to taste him for so long and you’re sure there’s some bullshit adeptus aphrodisiac in his precum, because gods above he tastes exquisite everywhere. Somewhere above you, Zhongli is writhing and panting as you take his head again to swallow around it, drunk on his noises. The saltiness in your mouth only encourages your efforts, determined to give him the best performance he’s ever had.

You lay your tongue flat against his frenulum and he jumps, barely incoherent as he tugs incessantly. “Wai – nnngh – wait, I-I’m close, I’m… Haah.”

Warmth blooms within as you release his cock with a pop and look at him, eyes hooded. “I want to taste you,” you slur. “All of you.” He looks stricken as you resume your ministrations, and soon you feel him throb more insistently. Zhongli is a God of War, right? Maybe… Maybe if you do this –

You drag your nails fierce and unexpected down his hips and thighs and he cums, hard. Suddenly you’re forced to hold his legs for purchase as you swallow, it’s all you can really do as you feel his tight grip hold you in place to face-fuck you and you milk him for all he’s worth. Which, y’know, you’re fine with too. Your eyes flutter closed as you hear soft coos and praises tumble from his lips, and you release his cock to look back up as it twitches lightly, already missing your wet mouth. Between the two of you, you’re not sure who looks more drunk.

No, actually, you’re sure that you look more drunk, because even though Zhongli’s eyes are deep in reverie as watches you stand up, he looks like the perfect image of serenity. His bed is vast, linen sheets with a ridiculously high thread count and shimmering amber patterns over the black base, and his headboard is a deep grey with Cor Lapis geometric decorations littering it almost haphazardly. You realize that the design mimics his throne in the Geo Archon statues.

Around the room, you suddenly notice more silk flowers and glaze lilies, with a window spanning nearly the entire wall to your right with a view of Liyue only afforded to royalty. There are jade statues and crimson tapestries framing a weapon rack hanging on the wall to your left with multiple spears adorning it, each likely worth a king’s ransom.

And here you are, standing in front of Rex Lapis as he moans your name and nearly pouts for more attention. How many have seen this great emperor laid so low?

Suddenly, you yelp as the man grows impatient and grabs your hand to pull you to him before rolling over you. His glowing eyes narrow as he growls, though it isn’t threatening so much as restless, and you keen when he lowers his mouth to your neck. Ah, there it is, that dominating Archon present once more.

Zhongli’s lips trail kisses as he travels down the curve of your throat to your sternum, before shifting to one breast and flicking his tongue over your nipple. You jolt and moan again, louder when he bites, then nurses it again with kisses to sooth. Then, you feel it, those skillful and calloused hands as one traces your hips before reaching your core. You whine and lift your hips, grabbing a fistful of Zhongli’s hair as he moves to your other breast. “Please, please, please.”

He smiles against your skin as one tickles around your folds, suddenly in the mood to go slowly and tease. Right when you are about to complain, a digit touches your clit and you whine as you jerk your hips again. Only, the sly fucker moves his hand back with your hips so you never feel that pressure tending to your need. You moan out his name, an absolute mess as he massages you idly like he has all the time in the world.

Well, technically, you both do, but you want it now, damn it.

When he moves his head back up to your neck to begin kissing again, you snake your hand around his throat to pull him in close and seethe, “If you keep playing with me, so help me I will – “ The words die in your mouth as he suddenly plunges a finger in and moans at how tight and silky you are, the wet noises drowned out by your cry. Zhongli never breaks eye contact as he watches exactly how you come undone from just one finger.

You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how easily he calls your bluff with the overwhelming relief that comes from him stoking that fire deep within. He twists his hand around and a lazy smile graces his lips, the pristine image of composure while you’re twitching and mumbling underneath. You claw at his back and moan incoherently, desperately looking at him and hoping he understands.

Oh, oh he does, but Zhongli purrs regardless when he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “Words, darling, use your words.” Right when you begin forming them, though, he slides another finger to join the first to cut you off. Cheeky bastard. A third quickly joins, and you throw your head back, noises growing in your throat when you feel yourself getting closer, closer, yes there -

The god looks at you and frowns lightly as he tuts. “So loud,” he says, and you feel his fingers leave you as you clamp around nothing, right at the precipice. Zhongli laughs, silvery in sound, when he spies your frustrated bearing, about a threatening as a kitten’s, and he nips your jaw with a quiet, “Open wide.” When you oblige, you feel him slide his fingers in your mouth, and you move your tongue between them to taste yourself. He moans appreciatively and you smile as you lick again. You never thought you could be into this, but with him? Fuck yes you can be.

“How do you taste, little one?” You sigh at him and smile but pause again when you spot that glint in his eye, the one that spells all sorts of trouble for you. When Zhongli withdraws his fingers, you watch as he gracefully climbs down your body, all slow movements and muscles flexing like an elegant beast.

A dragon, really.

His eyes flick up to yours as you watch, thighs twitching around his head when he leans in closer to kiss your velvety folds. You close your own as you squeak and feel his laugh, before you throw your body up when you feel his tongue slide deep into your pussy without hesitation, the top of his mouth wrapping your bud in a furnace. God of the Stove? Something, something, something –

Your hips struggle to meet his lips, but you feel one hand hold you down with his growling. Stay put. “Ohhh, f-fuck, please – “ You try again and this time, his nails dig deep into your skin and you hiss with pleasure. His other hand creeps up and slides a finger in to match his tongue, and stars you suddenly can’t breathe.

When you look down again and see his golden eyes just fucking watching you, intense and concentrated, you realize the inevitable. “Nnngh, f-fuck I-I’m – “ you stutter, barely having enough wherewithal to warn him, “I’m g-going to –“

The devil smirks wickedly and he sucks on your clit, and you’re tumbling. Gods above, something tears through you as you cum with a ragged, hoarse cry of his name as euphoria streaks through you unforgivingly. Your muscles spasm and you grip the sheets harder, all too aware of your limited mobility and it’s like your body made your orgasm all the more intense, knowing it can only express itself there. White-hot pleasure concentrates around the god’s head, and you can’t figure out if the heat is from you or him.

Each spasm has you releasing more wetness from your cunt to Zhongli’s mouth and he groans deeply, lapping it all the while he finger-fucks you through your orgasm. When it gets to be too much, your oversensitive bud begging for a gods-deserved break, you lightly swat at his head to stop drinking you; he only purrs softly into your folds before slowly withdrawing his fingers.

When the former Archon sits back up and slowly, deliberately licks each of his fingers as he makes eye contact with you, your throat seizes. “Fuck,” you breathe. Oh, oh gods, if you were native Teyvaten, it’s him you would worship, you would throw yourself down and suck him dry all day if he would let you, ride his thighs on his throne, fuck he’s so sexy, so handsome, so fucking good to you –

Only when his eyes crinkle with pleasure did you realize you… You were saying those things out loud, each one of those statements tumbling and traitorous.

You quickly look away, mortified and all too aware suddenly of your current situation, the fact that you’re in bed with him. You’ve harbored a cru- fondness for him for so long, you lost yourself to the ecstasy before being brought back to reality.

Zhongli frowns and crawls forward, gently taking hold of your chin to turn you to him. His eyes. Stars, they’re so warm and welcoming and… Tender. “Starlight,” he rumbles, “Was that… All right?” Stupefied. You’re stupefied as you realize this ancient god thought you were embarrassed of him, of his performance somehow and not your own childish blunderings.

“Y-Yes!” you squeal and immediately wrap your arms around his shoulders. He falls forward with an oof as your legs find purchase around his hips, and you begin trailing kisses down his cheek and jaw to his neck in an attempt to rectify this. “Y-yes, that was so good, I-I just… I can’t believe you… We…”

Zhongli chuckles and you can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Well, perhaps we can keep proving you wrong?” When he bucks his hips, your pussy feels electric as you realize the angle you’re hanging off of him allows his cock to slide just outside of your slit. Again, you’re sure you would’ve been more embarrassed at the fact that you’re practically a sloth hanging off of him, but, well, come on. Who doesn’t want to climb this tree?

As he’s slowly rocking and coating his cock with your slick, back and forth and whispering sweet nothings between kisses along your temple, you realize belatedly that he’s asking for permission. “Please,” you mumble.

He doesn’t need anything more as you feel his hips angle, the tip poking just the entrance. When he slides in, slowly at first and barely the head inside you, you wheeze. “B-Big,” you huff unceremoniously and Zhongli pauses, waiting for you to adjust.

You both stay like that for a moment, breaths mingling, and you feel his back muscles flex under your nails. Eventually, your eyes open and you see how his are tightly shut and he’s painfully biting his lip. All those centuries carefully cultivating a strong discipline is being tested, here and now, and stars he looks to be in terrible pain as he holds, waiting for you to adjust.

Hm. A thought strikes you, lighting in your head with a faint ping.

Slowly, to not startle him – though his eyes snap open anyway when you touch his shoulder – you creep your hand up and go to the back of his head. He looks at you, curious and distracted for a moment while you reach for his ribbon. When you pull it undone, eyes scrutinizing his every movement to see if he enjoys this, you card your hand through his waves as they cascade around you two.

Then, you tug. Hard.

Shit, that does it as Zhongli sinks his head to your neck and groans, low and open and raw as he thrust his hips further, suddenly sinking in half of his length into you. You gasp and hold on to his hair tighter when he pauses, but you only tug again – lighter, this time – and he gets the hint. Slowly, the god begins rocking his hips once more; this time, he works inch-by-agonizing-inch into you.

You have a hard time breathing as his girth practically splits you open and glides along, your hips already aching from how wide you spread them to accommodate his size. Nothing about him is soft, it’s all hard planes of muscles and jagged edges, and yet. And yet. When he leans forward to capture your lips again, it’s all you can think of when you think of him. Soft.

The obscene noises your pussy makes around him is silenced as he slows, finally reaching the base and hips meet your own. You have to give him credit, those gentle kisses were excellent distractions, because you’re not sure if you could have survived otherwise. When you lean forward to nip his bottom lip, he hums and begins to draw back before rocking back in.

It’s torturous, really, it is, the way his cock rolls along your velvet walls hitting every nerve point with deliberation. He wants to drag this out as long as he can, and impatient as you are, you want him to instead be going faster. Amber eyes meet yours, and neither of you have to say it. It’s now a fight for control, for who can direct the pace of this little skirmish.

For every whine and lift of your hips, his own draws back to match you. “I… Have raised – urgh,” Zhongli starts, grunting when you nip at a spot on his collarbone, “Liyue meticulously… L-little one, let me b-b-hhuild – “ You lap at another spot as you claw his back. “ – you, worship you.”

“Mmmno,” you reply, huffing in protest when Zhongli captures your mouth again and begins exploring it with the same vigor he did your cunt. When you realize that, you squeeze at the memory, but he only groans and shifts for a deeper angle. You let out a noise somewhere between a chirp and a squeal as he begins hitting that one spot. “I-I a-a-am not… Hah… Not a sta-tuueee to worship and erect, Zhongli.”

He laughs. “Interesting choice of words.” You barely hear him though as he begins thrusting with greater power, and you keen as you feel yourself approaching the edge again while you clamp harder around him. Each thrust from his hips punches a slight gasp out of you, and feel teeth drag along your jugular until you’re meeting his piercing eyes. His golden pupils are slits now, absolutely proud and feral. Thank all the gods in all the worlds above because Zhongli doesn’t stop, doesn’t tease you this time. Instead, he guides you to that precipice with the same slow determination he promised.

“Hh-haah, oh fuck,” you whimper, “I-I’m - !”

He kisses your temple and murmurs, “I know.”

Any annoyance you feel at his haughtiness is swept away when another orgasm is drawn from you, and you gasp, tugging his hair needily. His rhythm doesn’t change, only the intensity, but that’s all you need as you feel your pleasure building in waves. You knew this was coming, but you don’t expect how quickly it arrives nor the duration.

No, while your first orgasm was passionate and blazing, striking you like lightning, this one made you feel as though you are in a boat on a turbulent ocean. Each wave you crest over only gets higher, your euphoria growing as you bite his shoulder in an attempt to hide at least some of your cries, but you fail utterly. The noises coming from your core as it floods are downright obscene, and… Shit, is he talking?

“ – lovely, perfect little one, pretty thing just squeezing around my cock, aren’t you? Good girl, you are perfect -”

You sob and nod vigorously, yes you are a good little girl, just keep pounding Zhongli and you’ll be good for him all night. “I – I,” you start, quite uselessly if you’re honest, and he looks at you curiously but doesn’t stop his movements. “I – I… Am still… I-iiiiiin cont-rhhhol.”

“Yes, you are,” he coos and leans forward to kiss you, his hips finally, finally moving slightly faster. Only slightly, though.

Are you, though? Are you really? Because as Zhongli smirks at your debauched expression, drool coming out slightly and covered in blooming bruises, you wonder if this is another one of his games to make the other think they were the victor all along. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“T-then,” you croon, “f-fuck me harder, Zhongli.”

“Mm?”

“H-Harder, faster, oh stars,” you whine, “I need it, p-please, I can take it!”

His eyes become hooded, and suddenly, you feel him pull out. Hey, hey wait, that’s the exact opposite of what you want. It isn’t long, though, and you’re flipped on your stomach with a stone grip yanking your hips up for him. Instinctually you arch your back and mewl as you present yourself, and you hear a string of Liyuen curses fall from his mouth as he palms one of your cheeks before you feel a slap. Oh, that one drew a loud moan.

You feel brave and look over your shoulder, only to be devastatingly aroused at the sight of him inspecting your dripping hole. “Filthy,” he murmurs, clearly pleased with his handwork as his other hand strokes his cock. Zhongli’s eyes meet you then and he smiles, shifting closer, clearly not wanting to waste time.

In a single thrust he’s sheathed fully inside you again, and you cry out as you feel both hands move to your hips in a bruising grip. He begins pounding in earnest, mumbling more praises under his breath, but you don’t register it, all you feel is him, just him.

However, it isn’t long before you’re frustrated. Not with him or his divine cock, but you feel like you’re missing something. You grumble, wanting some of the icy pain you gave him inflicted on you too. “Z-Zhongli!” you cry, turning around again and determination written on your face.

He doesn’t miss a beat in his movements as he meets your stare again, perfect eyebrow arched. “I can take it,” you grouse. “I can take you, don’t hold back, please. Stop treating me so gently. Be rough with me, I’m begging you, be a beast and use me. It’s you and me tonight, remember?”

The god suddenly freezes, eyes wide as saucers at your demand, and you barely stop an embarrassed wince from creeping on your face. Shit, was that too much? Except, when he smiles, all teeth and eyes glowing with pleasure and long eyelashes fluttering, your heart suddenly shoots into your throat with anticipation and no small amount of fear. “Very well.”

He leans forward to kiss the small of your back as he pulls out, your pussy clenching around emptiness once again. Before your very eyes, you watch scales erupt from his shoulders and you feel claws pricking your hips, sure to draw blood if they pressed any further. You vaguely register a sudden weight to your right; gasping, you watch a long, draconic tail wrap around your hand, flicking with all the excitement of a pleased cat. However, when you look back, his whole being seems to have grown larger and you feel small; the dark brown coloring of his shoulders bleeds now to his pecs and journey – delicate like paint strokes – to his naval. You don’t miss fangs grace his open smile and Cor Lapis antlers rising from his head, shy of scraping the ceiling. They glow rhythmically with the markings on his arms, pulsing like a primordial heart. Stars, it’s truly a radiant crown befitting the Prime Adeptus, Morax, emperor of Liyue.

You swear to yourself then to never ever ever tell Zhongli your original intent, not on your fucking life. Truth be told, you meant something more along the lines of biting, scratching your back or something, never in your wildest fantasies did you think he would take your dare so literally.

Well, maybe in your wildest fantasies, but that’s a secret between you and the stars.

When your eyes take in all the glory that is Rex Lapis, your breath hitches when you finally spy his cock, practically weeping with pre-cum and twitching to be back inside you. What gives you pause is the fact that, well, every part of him grew with his transformation. Not only the length and girth, but the very appearance shifted, looking more draconic. Ridges line his darkened member and like his arms, there are golden markings glimmering along his shaft that throb in time with every other.

Immediately, you hear two sides inside you war: fuck yes fuck yes fill me completely and can that even fit or will I die first?

What a way to go, you decide, and shyly meet his eyes again. The entire time he sits under your inspection, he is rigid and chest slightly puffed. He preens under your appreciative noises, and when you finally match his eyes again, there is a renewed hunger lurking in those amber depths. “Last warning,” he rumbles.

You feel the vibrations of his voice, deep and shattering like a rockslide, and another wave of arousal practically seeps out as you moan. The leak doesn’t escape his sharp eyes and he smirks, taking this as your approval. Grabbing his cock in one hand and holding you steady with the other, he begins the slow breach, and oh fuck does it hurt in the best way possible. Some of the loudest cries from you yet are quickly silenced as you bury your head into your arms, only to come out again when one of his hands snake around your hips to begin steadily rubbing your clit. You feel a slight jut and you’re pushed forward, but he doesn’t move. Instead, Zhongli’s head rests between your shoulder blades panting hot and wet while he focuses on getting you to relax.

“M-move,” you mumble, and he growls in response and presses just an inch further before stopping again. You whine, an impatient brat, and try to take more of his cock by rolling your hips back. Hissing, you feel his claws pierce skin as his grip tightens to keep you in place; you choose to ignore the warning and try again, only to yelp when you feel a sharp bite to your shoulder.

You’re pretty sure that if you move this time, his fangs will draw blood, so you still. Okay. Okay, yeah, nope. You’re not in charge anymore. You may have won the battle, but it’s only fitting that Rex Lapis won the war.

“H-How far?” you ask, almost scared of the answer.

Eventually he releases his jaws and begins tenderly licking your skin – is his tongue forked? – and he hums. “About a quarter of the way.”

“A-a quarter of the - ?! Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you sputter. You grab his tail and tug on it insistently, trying to get his attention. “Hey, pull out a sec.”

He doesn’t move.

“Zhongli.”

Grumbles.

“Zhongli.”

The god pulls out, and when you turn back, you can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips at the expression he wears. Liyue’s denizens will surely kill you if they ever saw how you reduced their once mighty Archon to a pouting mess. “Good boy,” you coo. You hear a deep purr rise from his chest, and you lean forward to kiss before shifting around and grabbing his shoulders. “Now, turn around and lay on the bed.”

You don’t have to repeat yourself as he quickly lifts you again – not fair – and twists around so that you’re straddling his waist while his tail curls around one of your feet. When he settles back against the headboard, watching you intently for your next command, you marvel once again at the failure of the statues to truly capture his glory.

Biting your lip, you dig your hands into the brown scales framing his shoulders, but quickly fumble around for different purchase as some of his scales jut into your hand. When you finally find a good position, you release a long sigh and Zhongli curves his lips up before pulling you close for another kiss.

“We don’t have to,” he says when you break apart.

“No, we do, we have to,” you drawl, somber expression contrasting his amused one. “It’s the law, I demand it.”

He huffs, indignant, but offers no further protest. When you look down, your thighs begin quaking as you realize how close his cock already is. You reach down and take it, giving it a firm squeeze around the head and feel him buck into your hand. Eventually, you balance yourself over the head and begin the slow descent into madness.

Because holllyyyy stars, feeling his cock spear you like that is enough to make you become dizzy with pleasure. Still, you made a promise to yourself, so you sink further and work him in deeper. The ridges brush against every nerve ending and you curl your toes, electricity shooting up your spine as you cry out in raw pleasure. Zhongli digs his claws into your hips again and leans forward, snarling at the sensation of you fluttering around him.

By the time you reach the base, you’re a quivering mess; when the god moves his hips to readjust, you openly sob at his cock resting deep and filling you so completely. “Look at you,” he coos, and you feel one hand drag to your stomach. When you look down, you gasp as you see a thick bulge pushing out, marking you in exactly all the ways that Zhongli is filling you. “Taking me so well.”

His fingers drag along your stomach, idly moving in circles. Or diamonds? They feel almost... Purposeful. Hissing, you move forward as you hear him hum something in a language foreign to you while the skin around your belly burns before slowly soothing.

You kiss him again, allowing his tongue to snake in and explore your mouth anew. Deciding to take a page out of his book, you roll your hips against his instead of moving up and down, though he doesn’t seem to mind if the noises he makes are anything to go by.

You can’t help it, you break the kiss and fall forward against his chest and keen when he grabs your hips to begin moving earnestly himself. It’s clear you’re no more than a cocksleeve, legs gone and you can only hold on for the ride. One of your hands winds up to grapple his antlers for stability, prompting greater speed from him. Your voice begins rising in pitch, and the fire within begins burning anew, quick and merciless once again. Zhongli takes one hand and claws his way down your back, marking you and tearing you apart like you’re his prey and you love it. Soon, all you can hear is your heart hammering in your head; you sink further into that dream of bliss, all sense quickly departing except for full –

“One more,” you hear somewhere distant, beckoning. “Grant me one more. Cum for me.”

And that single word yanks you back to the present, growls and moans ringing loud and clear around you as your orgasm tears through you unexpectedly. Oh, how you obey your lord, because that orgasm somehow reaches new heights the previous one didn’t, and you begin openly crying. You register a forked tongue lapping at the salty streaks down your cheeks, but you don’t care, you’re only focusing on your pleasure burning all other thoughts away and rendering you mute. The vivid energy bleeding through you compels your body to release what little wetness you have left, and just barely, Zhongli’s cock pounding away at you glides easier.

You feel nudging at your head, and you roll it to the side instinctually, bearing your throat in submission to lick a hot stripe along your jugular as his hips move faster, singular focus in seemingly rearranging your insides to make more room for him, for all of his godly power. At his final thrust, he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck and shoulder in determination, but you long ago lost any serious feeling outside of your oversensitive core. Instead, you lift your hand to card through his hair as you feel his hips roll into your own slowly, hellbent on filling you completely.

Zhongli just keeps cumming and cumming, and a nearly unbearable warmth builds low in your stomach, but the amount is enough that it eventually gushes out of around his cock. When he feels wetness seeping out, he release your shoulder and grumbles, soothing the wound with slow licks. One hand caresses the stretched skin of your stomach around his cock again, handling it with the tender care of a doting lover.

Huh. Lover.

You giggle, stupid and dreamy, and Zhongli smiles with you. “Come on, little one,” he says and begins lifting you off. Oversensitive and raw, you both wheeze at the sensation of the ridges catching again until you’re off and empty and – oops. Mixed cum floods out of you; pink dusts your cheeks, but he merely hums and stands with you. The world spins around you as you are placed on the bed with your legs nudged apart. A few moments pass before you feel a warm, damp cloth wiping at your sensitive core and thighs – ah, there are some bite marks there too – and you sigh, perfectly content with all the stress of the day thoroughly fucked out of you.

Though your eyes are closed, you’re still lucid as you feel yourself gently manhandled and lifted. When you’re placed back down, you whine at the loss of the silky cover, left with the downy blanket underneath. “Forgive me, dear bird,” Zhongli laughs, “But I feel you would not appreciate sleeping in our mess.”

“I forgive you,” you say, and open your eyes when you feel the bed dip. Zhongli settles in next to you back in his human form, and of course, perfect as always. Smiling, you move closer to him, making a pleased sound when he takes this opportunity to begin brushing your hair with his fingers.

“We should go to the pharmacy tomorrow for your wounds.”

“Aw, and cover the marks?” You smirk when you hear his breath hitch.

“You cannot say such things to an adeptus, starlight.”

“Oops.” After some minutes, Zhongli stops and rises out of bed. Your hand shoots out to grab his and you look at him pleadingly. “Where are you going?”

“Ah, I am going to brew some tea. Something to soothe the muscles.”

“Of course you are,” you grin and release him. You’re content to let him fuss over you both. Quietly, you hear soft singing emerge from another room, the words foreign to your ears but pleasant nonetheless.

You feel soft inside.

---

“Will you tell me of your friends one day?”

The former Archon stops and looks at you. “My story is a long and complicated one. Entwined with many others.” A red thread.

You nod. “That’s okay,” you hum. “I have all the time in the world.” A pause. “You remember them, yet choose to not be remembered yourself. Left to be debated and fought over. Why?”

Zhongli pulls the blanket over both of you and wraps an arm around you, whispering into your hair like some dirty confession, some dirty sin. “You remember. Is that not enough?”

“I suppose so,” you mumble. What are friends for? “I hope, before we leave, I can tell your story again and again. Maybe I can move the heavens, make a constellation for you. Permanent and guiding. Even if you don’t want its name remembered, it will still be there.”

He laughs and closes his eyes. She would defy the heavens?

You close your eyes too. After all, that’s what friends do. They remember each other.

---

(Morax’s heart flutters when he hears we. Can he join? Will Celestia allow it?

Certainly, he can collect the wealth of the heavens to pay back Childe, he muses. A practical decision, of course.

Or perhaps Childe can come collect them himself.)

---

Dust is in the air, clouding his vision. The young god coughs and shuffles forward, hand calloused and tight around his stone spear.

Compassion, he muses. She always preached of love, of tenderness. Where was compassion for her?

Morax keeps walking, dust growing thicker and dark like the night. Obsidian lays around him, shimmering with promises of vengeance. He has failed. Guizhong trusted him to lead without her? They were never his people, they were hers. He was merely the guardian, the infallible stone statue.

And now, their Archon.

When he falls to his knees, he feels warm drops fall on his face, only to realize belatedly why – it is blood. The blood of the countless beings he’s slaughtered for her, as her people watched in horror as he attempted to water the earth with it.

Suddenly, he feels a cool breeze pick up. A rolling storm gathers and relentless rain replaces the blood on his face.

His hands remain stained. Cold. Godly.

The rain doesn’t seem to mind.

Before he stands, the water washes away some of the earth in front of him. Morax leans forward to grasp a shimmering stone. The sun’s warmth floods his hands, but he only grips tighter and cradles it close to his chest as he watches the rain pelt the earth.

---

Zhongli’s eyes blink open, though he still feels the weight of sleep and the taste of dust in his mouth. The sun has not quite risen, but the sky turning brighter tells him the world is still asleep. You are still asleep.

His eyes soften as he looks at you hiding your face in the crook of his neck, hands tucked to his chest. However, the dream lingers in his mind, and he can only move forward to wrap tighter as he settles his arm over your body in a protective stance.

A dragon and his hoard.

He remembers Tartaglia’s question. Do you have a hoard, Rex Lapis? Do you safeguard gold? Maybe I can see it one day in your den. How insolent and forward, he thinks fondly.

Though, eventually, his mind strays to your conversation earlier, of his own misgivings about Celestia.

He remembers the last time he tried to hold something so divine – so fragile – in his mighty grip.

“Please,” he murmurs to the empty room. “Please.” Zhongli, for the first time, feels he understands the mortals on their knees before the gods. But he doesn’t pray to Celestia, he prays to her.

He tries to forget how his heart ached when the Snezhnayan ship breached the horizon, gliding on the calm ocean to take its chaos elsewhere. How the sunset took all the light and warmth from Liyue Harbor that day. How fierce and angry you were with him.

Zhongli closes his eyes, resolved in his conviction that, though you may forgive, you will never forget his manipulations of Childe back then. Tartaglia’s insistence on chipping away his stone armor both infuriated and endeared to him, so he respected the Harbinger as a deserving rival. How could the Warrior God do anything less?

You mumble, and he pulls you in closer.

Despite it all, Zhongli begs to keep this moment to himself, away from the burning and punishing gaze of Celestia. He is thankful that you returned to him, thankful you deemed his presence worthy once more, thankful that his wait for the dawn paid off. This is enough, he thinks, just to hold you. This is to protect you – something he failed to do for the last divine he cared for. It’s safer for you.

(It’s safer for him.)

As he coils tighter around you and exhales a deep breath before closing his eyes, he can only pray that this moment remains hidden.

After all, who could forgive an earthly dragon – a God of Greed - for the sin of stealing one of heaven’s golden stars?

---

In Dihua Marsh, the cresting dawn’s light dances along the earth. The wind whispers to the flora and carries the dusty earth with it, parting the grass to allow the sun to warm the previous cover. Water from a nearby creek has long since fertilized the earth, and there lies a single green sprout.

It’s a glaze lily, the first in many millennia who once belonged to that rare breed that opened only for her.

notes:

y'all ever see that image of a hamster eating a very large banana? yeah

1) Baijiu is a type of liquor that originates in China! Furthemore, "zu fu" is the formal term for paternal grandfather in Standard Mandarin, xiangqi is a type of Chinese chess, and feng shui is the principle of decorating one's living space to allow better harmony of all energies within.

2) Up until the past century give or take, it was traditional in ancient China for the emperor to have multiple wives or concubines in order to ensure a male heir. Since Liyue is essentially China and Zhongli was its emperor for 3700 years, I imagine the concept of monogamy to be very foreign to him whenever he desired a lover. As much as i love headcanoning Zhongli as a himbo, i'm pretty sure he's so old-school he doesn't realize his blatant courtships and desires aren't being recognized lol. old himbo?

3) The exchange of betrothal gifts between the families being married is customary before the ritualistic courtships continued, and any partnership without equal exchange (Liyue) was considered extremely dishonorable

4) I wanted to sneak a reference to the fact that zhongli’s story quest is the first one we got that’s not named after his constellation, so his constellation’s name is not important to him, but recording ancient history is

also i appreciate any tips on my writing because fun fact! this is the first time i ever wrote smut _(:3」∠)_ luv y'all

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #childe #childe x reader #zhongli fanfic #childe fanfic #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #aether #genshin zhongli #genshin aether #genshin childe

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justlookatthosesausages · 4 years ago

Note

What do you think Elsas first day/week with the northuldra was like?

Oh boy. Ooooohhhhh boy.

=======

“Are you okay?” Asked a gentle voice behind Elsa’s back.

The blonde shuddered, trying to compose herself, and she wiped her mouth with the cloth Honeymaren held out to her.

“I’m... I’m fine”, muttered Elsa, retrieving a normal breathing, and focusing as much as possible to prevent the world from spinning around her.

The brunette softly approached and bent next to her to watch her pale face as the Snow Queen had been holding herself to a tree - cleverly chosen to be far from the working Northuldra, to not be noticed. Honeymaren inspected her features as she rubbed her back to help her ease out of her horrible feeling.

Elsa shivered at the touch, and the woman instantly retracted her hand. “Sorry! I just... I’m so sorry, I should have asked before touching you. I...”

“It’s okay.” Assured Elsa, clearing her throat to chase the last remnants of vomit she felt. The brunette’s palm on her bare skin had taken her out of her sickness for a whole new and different sensation, but she preferred to ignore it for now. She didn’t realize that having a bare back on her Fifth Spirit outfit would lead her to such a moment, and had settled to simply vanishing her double train for easier movements during their task. She stood up properly, adopting a better attitude.

She wiped her mouth one last time. “Thank you.”

Honeymaren blinked. “For the cloth? It’s normal, I’d have guessed that it’s a difficult thing to do on one’s first time...”

“No, thank you for teaching me how to skin a rabbit.”

“Oh.”

A silence passed, and the brunette smiled tenderly. “You’re welcome. I mean, I feel very bad when I see your state, but... Hey, you know what?”

Elsa turned to her, her face now recovering her normal colors and stretching in an interrogative manner. Honeymaren smiled.

“Think of it as a... How you call that again... Pajamas?”

The blonde couldn’t help but chuckle. The Northuldra’s accent wasn’t right, but she didn’t take note of it. “You want me to see it as if I’m stripping the rabbit out of its clothes?”

“Yes.” Laughed Honeymaren. “That’s the kind of technique Ryder and I used to think of when we were kids to not be repulsed.”

Elsa blinked, intense relief filling her soul. “So you were repulsed too on your first time...”

The brunette gave another one of those smiles that seemed to radiate good energy through the whole forest, and the Snow Queen felt her heart flutter. “Of course. You know, you shouldn’t be ashamed. I’m actually admirative of how curious you are and how many things you want to learn at once. You’ve been here for like... A week, isn’t it?”

Elsa nodded.

“And I feel like I only have a few things remaining that I haven’t taught you.” Giggled Honeymaren. “You’re a fast learner.”

“Not a fast skinner, though...” Winced Elsa, only half joking.

“It will come with experience.” Assured Honeymaren, not giving up on her. “And some Northuldra don’t like to do that at all. Everyone is polyvalent in the tribe, but we still have some assigned tasks, don’t worry.”

Elsa smiled. “You learn Arendellian words quite fast too.”

Honeymaren simply shrugged at the compliment. “I teach you hunt, you teach me Arendellian vocabulary. It’s fair.”

They laughed for a moment, and it joined the chirping of birds in this quiet area of the forest. The Fifth Spirit didn’t only teach Honeymaren Arendellian vocabulary, but also helpful ways. While, on every day that passed since Anna went back to the kingdom, the Northuldra had showed her how they spear fish, how they tie their clothes, how they herd reindeer, and so on to make the newcomer adapt to their rhythm of life, Elsa had done her best to show them how to improve those activities, however being genuinely careful to stay appropriate and respectful of their culture.

The very barrels they were currently stocking the dried meat in were a good example of this collaboration; Elsa could create as much ice as she wanted, and when she had showed them the properties of cold to preserve the meat, they all had thanked her deeply, for they were using salt before she dropped ice cubes in there.

A few Northuldra wanted to tell her that she actually hadn’t invented anything at all, because when Winter came, they traveled North and harvested ice themselves to put it in their stock. But the other Northuldra, led by Yelena, forbid them to tell Elsa for she had helped in a really nice way, completely clueless.

On the other hand, Elsa’s ingenious mind brought new perspectives to the tribe, and many learned from her too; she told them about some technology they could built based on what they have, or how to gain time on certain things. What Honeymaren admired at every occasion was how bashful and modest she was when making those suggestions; she never insisted if the Northuldra found her ways weird. But once, several lavvo builders had came back to her a few hours after her intervention to know more about her architectural point of view. Honeymaren had seen a particular light sparkle in Elsa’s eyes in that moment, and she had smiled at how passionate the Snow Queen was when she pointed at structures, or crafted ice models to make herself explicit.

“Honeymaren.”

The brunette blinked as the call of her name took her out of her reverie. She felt a bit ashamed. How long had Elsa tried to get her attention?

“Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?”

She saw that they had walked back to the part of the camp where the Sami people were stretching pelts on wooden frames to make clothes later.

“What’s next for us?” Asked Elsa.

The Northuldra blinked, her cheeks heating up for some reason. “Uh... I’m... What?”

“What do we do next? Is there another workshop I can attend? Does someone need our help somewhere?”

Honeymaren sighed internally, then was stunned by how enthusiastic Elsa was. “What, already? But you should take a break.”

“No, it’s okay.”

The brunette pointedly stared at her. “Elsa, you just threw up. You should rest. Or eat. Yeah, it’s pair of toxic all, but you should, because your stomach must be empty now and you’ll feel weak in a moment.”

Elsa grinned.

“What?” Frowned the Northuldra.

“It’s ‘paradoxical’.” Corrected the Snow Queen, biting her lip in a cute way to try her best not to burst of laughter.

Honeymaren didn’t feel embarrassed, rather confused. “It’s not a pair of toxic all?”

Elsa giggled, really struggling to not laugh out loud. “What would that even mean?”

The Northuldra put her hands on her hips exaggeratedly. “I don’t know, you tell me. Most of your words don’t mean anything.”

Now Elsa laughed openly. “I’m sorry. It’s just... Par-a-do-xical. But I’m happy to see you remember this word. I can’t even remember when I used it.”

“You keep using weird words.” Smiled Honeymaren, now teasing.

“Oh, do I?” Replied the blonde, her jaw dropping a bit at her sass.

A Northuldra approached as they were grinning at looking at each other in the eyes, and he sighed at the particular tension. “Say, when you two will be done, maybe you can go pick up wood.”

#asks #honeygaymaren #(whispers) they were flirtinnnng #on the first week you ask? dear they had their love blossoming slowly but surely #elsamaren #yes i couldn't let that opportunity go away lol #frozen #frozen 2 #post frozen 2 #it's obvious that it took some time for elsa to adapt #so at least let's have some fun with it #frozen prompts #frozen 2 prompts #post frozen 2 prompts #frozen drabbles #frozen 2 drabbles #post frozen 2 drabbles #writing

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themurphyzone · 4 years ago

Text

Blinky and Future Brain HCs

THE PBS Eons YT channel has made me an expert on ancient life heck yeah /jk i am not a paleontologist by any means.

*Also I am going off my personal HC that Future Brain’s Pinky is actually deceased and the “betrayal” was that Pinky promised they would be together forever. Future Brain misses him dearly, and him trying to kill Pinky in Ep 9 was a bluff so he could get enough distance from Brain so that he could run into a portal with Pinky without being followed.

Background

The episode drops Future Brain at 420 million years ago, which is the tail end of the Silurian Period and the beginning of the Devonian. Pterosaurs aren’t a thing yet.

So basically: the Silurian and Devonian were basically the rise of fish. Lots of fish. Everywhere there’s fish. On land, terrestrial plants begin to diversify.

There were giant sea scorpions. Look, normal scorpions are unsettling enough. Now make them bigger and creepier and swimmier.

*Also this is very simplified and I feel like this covers the basics.

Headcanons

1. While Blinky is fish-like in appearance, he’s more amphibious in nature since he walks on land just fine or splash about in water. He and Future Brain stick close to the water since he needs to keep moist, and Future Brain has a small canteen to help wet Blinky’s skin.

2. Blinky will eat anything. A few nights after they met, Future Brain was threatened by a sea scorpion as he was looking for food in the water and Blinky came to the rescue. Oh, and Blinky started eating the scorpion right there. Future Brain was a little squicked out at first, but he didn’t have any protein pellets on him and he had to eat something, so he made a fire and roasted the scorpion meat. It was kinda like crab legs really, so he didn’t mind too much.

*I am allowed to take artistic liberties cause nobody knows what ancient sea scorpions taste like.

3. Blinky didn’t have any concept of fire, so he accidently burned his fin the first time Future Brain made one. Future Brain scolded him for being careless in the same way he used to do for his Pinky and wrapped Blinky’s fin with a leaf.

4. Future Brain finds that he can’t exactly take over the world in this period, since most life is still underwater. So he does a lot of self-reflection instead, realizing that Pinky wouldn’t want him to grieve for so long but he’s not really sure what else he can do. Blinky does his best to be supportive, and Brain knows he’s trying, but scales just aren’t the same as fur.

5. As he’s walking along the beach, Future Brain comes across the laptop that got pulled into the rift in Ep 9. He takes it apart and reconstructs it into a new portal gun. He opens a portal to somewhere (it’s still rudimentary and he’ll need more material to make it more accurate) and about to say goodbye to Blinky, when Blinky starts to cry. Future Brain tries to reassure him, but eventually decides to hell with the space time continuum and paradoxes I want my fish friend.

6. Future Brain and Blinky leave fossilized footprints behind and fucked up the entire fossil record cause nobody knows what the heck a mouse was doing there when mammals didn’t exist yet.

7. Eventually the unlikely duo start dimension hopping. Sometimes it’s modern, sometimes medieval, sometimes Victorian age, but Future Brain tries to seek out those dimensions’ Pinkies and Brains. He doesn’t interact with them, preferring to keep his distance, but he just wants to be sure they’ve got each other. Sometimes Blinky will walk right up to them and make Pinky laugh and confuse the heck out of Brain (he writes Blinky off as a freak science experiment though). Future Brain tries to make Blinky adhere to his warnings about interacting with them, but it never sticks.

8. Sometimes though, they’ll run into a Pinky or Brain who lost their other half. Future Brain’s no good at comfort, but he will stay in the dimension long enough so they can at least use Blinky as a cuddle buddy.

9. If Future Brain does have to interact with them at all, he prefers talking to the Brain counterparts because the A) the Pinky counterparts all tend to hug him on first sight and open up the floodgates and B) Brains tend to react with the threat of violence when they first meet him, which is easier to handle.

10. Do not threaten Blinky. Ever.

#pinky and the brain #patb blinky #future brain #btw i highly recommend checking out pbs eons on yt #its very good #patb headcanons

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years ago

Text

Speak No Evil (Part 25)

“I am going to focus on one fanfiction at a time.” I vowed before not doing that.

She can feel it in her throat, it is an itch like she had swallowed a living fly. Now apprehension takes the place of longing. And it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense to have yearned so relentlessly to speak, only to find herself completely tongue tied for the first time in her life. For all of the words that she wants to speak, she can’t seem to grasp onto any of them.

What if her voice no longer sounds lovely when it comes from her own body. The spirit could tweak and shape her voice in the most pleasant ways, work it into a crystalline smoothness that she isn’t sure she can manage anymore.

“Go on, say something.” Zuko urges.

She sifts in her mind for something worthwhile to say. Perhaps it would do her well to thank the spirit for giving her, her voice back. Maybe she should take the easy route and ask him what she should say. But she isn’t sure that she wants to speak anything more than a single word.

She reaches for her waterskin and has a generous sip, the water is pleasant on her throat. “Seicho…” She finally manages. Her voice is softer than she remembers, significantly breathiter.

She isn’t sure how she feel about it. Isn’t sure that she wants to hear it a second time. But Seicho beams at her. She presses her fingers to her throat, feeling faint vibrations run up and down it as she repeats the woman’s name.

“You have a pretty voice.” Seicho notes. “It’s really...relaxing.”

She clears her throat, “thank you.” But her voice is still rather husky. She absently brushes her fingers over the parchment, they are shaking slightly and she can’t say why. She should be elated rather than apprehensive. She looks towards the spirit.

It regards her silently, coldly. She really ought to thank it if she knows what is good for her. She reaches for the parchment and her brushes and writes a quick thank you. She is growing increasingly uncomfortable under the gazes of all of the smaller spirits. She feels as though they are poised to attack her at any minute.

“Why are you still using the parchment?” Mai quirks a brow.

Azula offers only a shrug as she moves to stand closer to Seicho and Zhang-Zin. The spirit closes the distance just as quickly. She supposes that it wouldn’t be a spirit encounter if she wasn’t left with some lesson or warning. She thinks that her last visit had been the lesson, and she is fairly certain that she has learned it well enough. At the very least, she is decently afraid to speak malevolently. She wonders if she should speak at all, lest she lose her voice again. And so she finds herself a new paradox.

She decides that she will speak minimally; her vocal cords feel so taut that she isn’t sure she has a choice regardless…

The spirit lowers itself to eye level. With hers no longer shimmering upon the base of its throat, the voice that takes dominance over the others is thundering and feminine. Wrapped around it are lighter voices like ocean waves and rustling leaves. It’s warning is quite simple, efficiently so. “Speak carefully.”

Azula supposes that, that shouldn’t be a problem, she has always cultivated her words choice with tedious thinking. As though every sentence could be her last. As though every word could be her ruin. With Ozai’s sharp ear, any wrong word could have been her downfall.

Perhaps she ought to live her life in silence afterall, it is easier knowing that the choice is hers.

Seicho takes her hand as she gives the spirit a nod. She holds out her arm, the one that Seicho is holding and gestures to the bitemarks. She suppose that now is as good a time as any to test out new tones and inflections. “Tell them to stop?” But she falls short--the pitch isn’t right. Her lower lip trembles.

Agni, it has been so long since she has put laryngeal muscles to use that they seem to have gone useless. She has missed her chance to speak with feeling. She has been forced into tonelessness when she could most benefit from expression.

The spirit doesn’t humor her with an answer. Its wisps break apart and disperse like scintalling flutterbats back into the canopy and under the rocks. The smaller spirits swoop down and close in. “Let’s get out of here, they’re starting to freak me out.” Zhang-Zin shudders.

.oOo.

Every now and then a spirit tugs at Azula’s hair and Seicho finds herself swatting it away. Perhaps the misdeed will come back and catch up with her, but she can sense that the princess is sinking again. Anxiousness and anger have given way to weariness and confliction, she can see it in the woman’s tired eyes. And with those tired eyes, Azula watches another spirit hiss and flit away. At least a small flicker of relief appears in them.

They have been trekking for almost half of the day and thus far, ��tell them to stop” has been the last of her vocalization.

“I can have Katara try to heal your vocal cords.” Zuko offers.

Azula returns his offer with only a nod, albeit an affirmative one.

Healing… It dawns upon her, a reason for the reluctance, “does it hurt to talk?”

And Azula finally speaks again, “I--no...I don’t think so.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Mai asks.

“Do you not like how your voice sounds?” Seicho guesses. “It’s a little hoarse, but it’s still nice to listen to.” She promises. And that is an understatement, really she thinks that she could listen to that voice for hours.

.oOo.

It isn’t that so much as it is that there is too much to say and too many people to say things to. Really, she should have settled for that one I love you. She rubs her hands over her face, she hates herself for even thinking so weak mindedly. What she should do is speak until her voice finds its strength again. What she should do is speak regardless.

And yet she finds herself as mute as ever and, suddenly, with less to say than ever. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ She writes upon the parchment.

Her whole body feels heavy with self manifested helplessness. It shouldn’t be so hard to just talk. She finds herself touching her tongue, cringing at the earthly mossy taste that taints her fingers. She doesn’t think that the scarring on her tongue is so obstructive as to impede her speech. The blockage comes from her mind, her mind and her underused vocal cords.

“You just have to get used to talking again. That’s all.” Seicho smiles.

She wants to believe her, she wishes that she could. But it grows harder to do so as the days wear on without being able to muster up a word. She knows that she is only making her condition worse by leaving her laryngeal muscle to rust.

She decides that she will make a habit of saying at least one thing a night. She doesn’t know what that thing will be. Not until they bring their hiking to a halt for the night. Like clockwork, Zuko asks if she is still feeling okay. And like clockwork she nods her head. She supposes that she is feeling as well as she can.

At least now she can take comfort in that healing is an option should she work up the courage to take it. At least now, with every time he asks, she can find herself reassured that she doesn’t have to work through her barriers alone.

She helps Mai cook their hunt over a flame that pleasantly warms her face. “I don’t have a problem with you talking.” The woman sighs. “If that’s the problem.”

And on the parchment she writes, “it isn’t.” Though a small pang of relief has her thinking otherwise. At the very least it takes some pressure away to know that her voice isn’t unwelcomed.

She passes a strip of meat to Zhan-Zin and then busies herself with her own. She makes her way back to her sleeping bag and bundles herself up as tightly as possible, leaving as little room for the spirits as she can--though they haven’t been bothering her as much lately. She thinks that they are finally growing to accept that she isn’t a particularly antagonistic force.

“Mind if I join you?” Seicho asks.

She looks about the camp and makes a vague gesture towards Zuko and Zhang-Zin. Seicho laughs, “they’ll get over it.”

Azula unzips the sleeping bag and lets Seicho crawl in. The woman wiggles in close and presses her forehead to Azula’s. She closes her eyes and she feels a small kiss upon her nose. “Good night, Azula.” Azula puts her arm around the woman.

If she can only manage to say one thing a night, she knows what it will be. And Seicho beams from ear to ear when she says it, “good night, Seicho. I love you.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Cupholder girl #Azucho #Fanfiction

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sebastianshaw · 4 years ago

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In one of the X-Men Discord servers that I’m on, there is a section for the internal thoughts of the characters that you write. Naturally, I use this to be COMPLETELY HORRIBLE with Shaw. Here is a compiled list of things he has thought there. Read at your own risk, and trigger warning for. . . honestly I don’t know how to begin, but if you follow this blog I figure you know I ENDORSE NONE OF THIS. under the cut for your sake

- if you didn’t want to know about picking up a Filipino bar girl why would you ask how my day was it’s like screaming at a sushi chef for undercooking the fish - they bring me back to life but can’t give me a new goddamn back?! - Note to self, petition to Council to resurrect son Note to self two, remember his name and which one he is this time - so there’s just an indeterminate number of telepathic teen girls here who look almost exactly like Emma before her nose job? I don’t even want to know at this point seriously though how many are there I can’t tell they’re goddamned identical--- -literally just going to hire this girl to scratch my back she's good at it JESUS THE RELIEF - Aloba Dastoor is a sweet, well-mannered young man. I think I'd like to rearrange his intestines with my--- - why does every gay man into pup play have a dead mother he didn't get to come out to what is the connection here IT'S EVERY TIME - by damn why does no one discipline their children, you may think this is cute but everyone else is looking at you to sort your little crotch debris out or SOMEONE ELSE WILL - that boob job is so bad she looks like a Hasbro knockoff - you just can't be sure about a person until you know what they think of the fall of Constantinople in 1453 by the Ottoman forces led by Mehmed II - they're NOT bongos they are CONGAS they are the SAME SIZE - This is less an ingrown hair at this point and more of an ingrown wig - such a lack of decorum, I have bad days sometimes too but it hardly ever results in murder - his arm looks like a big veiny cock never thought I'd get hard just seeing an arm - wish you really could get oil from babies - gold plated bare breasted - Wait so who was in the trunk - thinking about how this island doesn't have taxes is better than opioids - It’s gonna be a closed casket funeral buddy - it looks rather anal - organizer my ass that fool couldn't organize a blow job if he was in a Nevada brothel with a pocket full of a hundred dollar bills - I'd rather put up with a candiru than these people - some people are impossible to underestimate - cannot sit down without a beautiful woman trying for my wallet I'M FUCKING WORKING JESUS F---- - -- wait which one is my kid fuck which one do I take maybe both maybe just say my kid wanted to bring a friend home fuck fuck fuck maybe I should just ask the daycare they have to get fathers asking that SOMETIMES should also ask if she’s free tonight --- - fucking PLASTER in my mouth need to learn to close my fucking facehole when I barge through a wall--- - Cannot BELIEVE that woman asked me if I dropped Shinobi on the head as a child, that's making a very bold assumption that I EVER HELD HIM AT ALL - another morning where I can’t seem to piss quite everything out, is this a resurrection issue or do I have another kidney stone - - -not that I am complaining about the view but why don't hippies wear bras do they think it kills trees is it the rubber in the elastic since rubber comes from plants or maybe it's the metal underwire do they not like metal is that why they don't shave--- - it's a paradox. I believe a man is responsible for his own mistakes. This means Shinobi alone is to blame for his failures. At the same time, he is -my-mistake. - note to self, if a mother asks "but what if the baby remembers it?" the correct answer is not "then he'll know how to please a woman" - how was I supposed to NOT laugh when it slipped out of the slave?? - do me this, flog me that, sometimes I just want to sleep. it's been a long day. it's been a long life. - oh god I'm stuck in her like the Suez Canal - Nope, don’t do it old boy. She’s crazy. Not typical clingy co-ed with daddy issues crazy, this is wake up with your cock in a jar crazy. I know we love that. But we love our penis more. - I'm not handsome but jesus his teeth look like he was breastfed through a grease nipple - Even a shotgun wouldn’t shoot its load on THAT face - I’ve seen bigger breasts in the chicken meat aisle - Looks like the kind of guy who would call his grandmother to change his flat tire - Why does no one listen when I warn them "hold on tight, this will hit you like a tank" WHY DO YOU THINK I INSTALLED THE HAND RAILS YOU IDIOTS - why do I even take the triple espresso shots overthinking keeps me awake enough - I'd rather shit in my hands and clap than spend ten seconds in these Council meetings -I don't see what the fuss is, there shouldn't be any fluid left on it - It’s all fun and games until somebody loses a penis - ok, plan is to suck a lemon first to mitigate the taste, then bypass my tongue with a boba straw - note to self: tub of lard, rubber fist, strip of cloth. tub of lard, rubber fist, strip of cloth. tub of lard, rubber fist, strip of--Message #internal-thoughts - how the fuck am I this drunk and STIll have a headache? besides Shinobi that is - that man’s penis is a deadly weapon - It’s alive you can see it’s mouth open up right before it gets deep throated - This is why I keep a dozen fresh eggs in my car at all times. - You see anti-homeless spikes, I see free seating for hundreds - Well, I suppose him calling me a "bootlicker" was TECHNICALLY not incorrect but--- - in fairness to her, if I were covered in fingers, I would be doing that too - I am not a squeamish man but "genitalia turns into a blood hyperbeam cannon" was not a power I was prepared to very LITERALLY face - The amount on the ceiling is mind-boggling - her gag reflex is as absent as her father - I'd tell @Roberto Da Costa he's a disappointment, but I'm afraid he'd call me daddy - God damn, he still ate it?? Go buy new lettuce you weird fuck - Wait, are they gay racists? Gaycists? BROKEBACK BIGOTS?! - It burns, but that's how you know it's working. - How was HE the fastest sperm? Must have been like a goddamn Special Olympics swim

#internal thoughts #Shaw please

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troop-scoop · 4 years ago

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Mistakes & Regrets XVIII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing probably, memory (In italics), a firearm.

• • •

“Dad, I’ve got it!” You told him, making him step back. For someone who was almost always dependent on your parents for everything, you could be stubborn and self assured.

Will only shook his head, the protective earphones over his head, while the instructor showed you how to hold the gun in your hands. “I still don’t like this.” He told Thomas when he walked into the next room where he and Daniel were sitting by the bulletproof glass to watch you.

Daniel hopped down from the chair he was standing on, going to the restroom while WIll took his spot in the wooden chair. “You want her to be scared of guns? This is a good way to be scared of them.”

Will scoffed a bit, taking off the earwear. “She’s never scared of anything. She can watch horror movies at night and not need all the lights on.”

“She didn’t get that from me.” Thomas jokingly defended.

“Yeah. . . me neither.”

When you’d been born, Will cried for an hour while you slept in his arms. Because while he knew he wanted kids, he didn’t know just how much until you held his finger in your hand. But at the same time, he’d never been more scared, even with what he’d been through as a kid.

“Will,”

“Tom?”

Will looked up at Thomas while he took his seat next to him, a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need to start talking to the therapist again?”

Will shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”

“This isn’t fine, Will. The plan wasn’t to have you working from home the rest of our lives because you’re worried.”

The moment you’d been handed to Will, as a crying, pale, and small little mess wrapped in a blanket, he’d had this feeling that he needed to protect you at all costs, like something terrible was going to happen if he didn’t. It was why he had rules for both you and your brother to follow.

A muffled shot went off from the other side of the wall, and it made Will jump a bit. Barely a second later you came out, brows furrowed and a crease in the bridge of your nose. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I don’t like it.” You said, walking over and sitting by Will's legs.

“Was it scary?”

“No. I just didn’t like it.”

• • •

You sat across from Steve, looking down at the gun you’d brought. The chrome reflecting your appearance, even though it was dark and shaped oddly because of the different indents in the metal, as well as the finger prints you’d left on it.

“Why are you even here if you don’t believe us?” Dustin demanded in a harsh tone, directing it to Max.

Or Maxine. Which is the name you grew up calling her. And if you were being completely honest, knowing that these people, who had been family and who had big roles in your childhood, went through things like this. And that maybe, the entire time, you’d been there, freaked you out.

So then the question arose of, who taught who?

Daniel talked about a time paradox theory once, didn’t he? About if you traveled back in time with a lightbulb, and gave it to Thomas Edison, who really invented it? You, who brought it to the past? Or Thomas Edison? Would it be a forever long loop?

Were you always supposed to end up here? Feeling like all you had was your grandmother, uncle and Steve? All of the phrases and lessons your uncles and aunts taught you that you’d then said back to them now, is this year away from home, part of some big, fucked up loop? God you hoped not. But then maybe you could stop blaming yourself.

“Just go home.” Dustin added.

“Dustin,” You said softly, not liking how he was being rude. Max had every reason to question them about what was happening. Nothing about it was believable.

Max blinked at him for a second before pushing off of the seat she was in “Geesh. Someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” She climbed up the ladder disappearing on top of the bus.

“That’s good. Just show her you don’t-”

“Steve.” You interrupted, catching his attention and shaking your head. “Care.” He finished, playing with his lighter and looking at the younger boy.

“I don’t.” Dustin stated. “Why are you winking, Steve? Stop.”

You grinned a little, making eye contact as Steve looked at you with a bit of a smile on his face as well. “Don’t be weird, Harrington.” You told him softly, only getting a nod from him.

You were never one for big groups of friends, but you knew that your parents would be worried if you told them you only had one, who was graduating soon and would probably be off doing his own thing come August, too busy to hang out with a sixteen year old.

Steve wanted to go to college, but whenever he spoke about it, it always sounded like he wanted to go not because he genuinely wanted to, but out of obligation. Because someone was expecting him to. He applied to a college back in September, with an essay you helped him on.

“You hear back from the college in Chicago?”

Looking up to you again, Steve shook his head, a bit of hair falling in his face as he continued to play with his lighter.

Sighing, you placed the gun down next to you before reaching your hands out to him, he gave you a look of confusion, before smiling and grabbing your hands, pulling you closer to him. You ended up with your hip against Steve’s thigh, while you rested an arm on his knee that was bent and pointed to the ceiling.

“What about the one in California?”

Steve sighed a bit. “I should know by Christmas.”

“Ya know, if it helps, even just a little, California’s expensive. You’ll have to pay to do your laundry, rent is really expensive, and college is already expensive enough, I don't think you’d need all of that piled on top.”

“Laundry costs money?”

You didn’t mean to, but you laughed, nodding a bit. “Yeah.” You told him. “You would be able to just drive down to mommy and daddy’s to do your laundry if you went to the one in Indianapolis.”

Steve smiled at you, handing you his lighter for a moment, and your first realization was that it was much heavier than the Bic lighters you used to be able to get at the liquor store down the street from the condo you and your family once lived in.

“Or I could do it at your place.” He pointed out, and it made a genuine and lazy smile come to your face.

“Or you could come to my place.” You agreed, and even though it was stupid, it made your heart almost flutter. The idea that Steve would go to your place to do laundry rather than his house seemed silly, but you were for sure more fun than his almost 65 year old father and mother in her early 40’s.

You shared a small smile with him, before looking away and down at the lighter he’d handed you, flicking it open and making an ‘o’ sound when the small flame ignited. “Let there be light.” You joked, looking back at Steve.

But he was already looking at you instead of the small flame you held, an absent-minded smile on his face, almost a goofy looking one.

“What?”

“You don’t have issues.” He observed. “Family issues, anyway. You talk about them like you still love them, and that they loved you. And I mean. . . Carol’s mom never even let her leave the house unless she knew that I’d be the one driving. So from what I know, parents who love you, and care, wouldn’t ever let you move to a completely different town in the middle of nowhere at the age of fifteen, and never even call at the very least. So what happened?”

You could tell he’d thought about it before. Much like how you’d thought about his own familial life. And while you were sure his was complicated, you were sure your own was even more so.

Shrugging you looked at your knee, holding the lighter still, letting the small flame illuminate what little it could. Before you could say anything he put his hand on your knee, mimicking you. “Back when all of this was starting, back when I had that stupid party? We had beer, and cigarettes there, and when I told the cops the truth, my dad wasn’t upset that I was getting drunk or smoking, but because I was ruining the ‘family name’” He used his fingers as air quotes. “

He was trying to make you feel comfortable enough to tell him even the smallest amount about what happened to you and your family, and it worked, because looking at the lighter again, you began to speak. “It was the week after freshman year started. . . They decided to pack up and go on a road trip. Like an impulse that my dad had, he’d never been impulsive before. But we went. And Pa- someone got mad at me, so I ran off.” Looking back at Steve you saw the soft gaze he gave you. “I basically ran away because my family was mad at me. And I haven’t gone back. And I can’t.”

A growl echoes from outside, and within a heartbeat, you, Steve and Dustin were at the little opening between metal scrap to look out the window. The fog covered most of the ground outside, making it near impossible to see ‘Dart’ as Dustin called it if it was out there. All you could see was the pile of raw meat and beat down cars.

Holding onto the sleeve of Steve’s jacket, your eyes darted around, looking for the thing that, more likely than not, was from the place you hated.

“You see him?” Dustin asked, the bill of his hat brushing against your forehead due to the tight space.

You shook your head, but Steve answered verbally “No.”

“Lucas! What’s going on?” Dustin asked, looking to the roof of the bus while you could feel Steve move his arm in your grasp before he took your hand in his.

“Hold on!” Lucas shouted back. “I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock! Ten o’clock!” Lucas’ voice stuttered halfway through, either from being unsure, or scared.

You pointed to the window, seeing the dark figure that was about the size of a medium sized dog lurking by the edge of the junkyard. “There.”

“What's he doing?”

“I don’t know.”

Instead of going after the raw meat, the thing just stood there, and you could hear the low chittering, it sent goosebumps up your spine, having your grip on Steve’s hand tighten. For a moment all you could remember or even think about, was when you hid in a treehouse, occasionally looking through a crack between two slats of wood to look down below to see one of those.

“He’s not taking the bait.” Steve stated the obvious. “Why is he not taking the bait?”

“Maybe he’s not hungry?” Dustin suggested.

“Maybe he’s sick of cow.” Steve suggested right after, but it came off as more of a statement than a question like Dustin’s. He stepped back from the window, his hand still in yours as he continued to stare at the window for one last moment in thought.

Steve looked to you, his expression unreadable as you gave his hand a light squeeze. “What are you thinking?” You inquired, voice low.

He looked down to where you’d previously been sitting, grabbing the gun and handing it to you, grip first.

Letting go of your hand he stepped towards the door without saying anything. You reached out to grab him, demand what he was going to do, and probably tell him it was a stupid idea, that he’d get himself killed. But that was just Steve, right? Doing things that seemed stupid at first, until it actually worked out in his favor.

Usually, you chalked it up to luck, dumb luck, but still luck nonetheless. But if it was just that, that simple four letter word that was always brought up on Saint Patrick’s Day, then it was going to run out eventually.

But you trusted him, so like an idiot, you didn’t grab him.

“Steve? Steve, what are you doing?” Dustin demanded, worry clear in his voice. “Steve?” You reached out for Dustin’s shoulder, watching as Steve grabbed the bat.

Turning back to look at you guys, he said “Just get ready.” He turned back around and went to the door.

You could feel your heart rate speed up, the blood in your veins go ice cold for a few seconds out of fear, and your hands were unsteady as you held the metal lighter in hand, having snapped it closed when you heard Dart outside.

The loud creaking of aluminum was heard as he opened the door, and for a moment, you found yourself asking any god there was to make sure Steve didn’t get hurt. You were raised by two men who were told all their lives that anyone who was attracted to someone of the same sex would burn in hell, or that they were a sinner. It was no surprise that you weren’t raised with religion. Who would want to raise their child in a religion that condemned something they couldn’t control.

The doors creaked again as Dustin closed them. Looking down at your gun, you could hear your dad’s voice asking you if it was scary, and while as a child, it wasn’t, it was now. All these years older and you’d grown afraid.

“What’s he doing?” Maxine demanded as she got to the bottom of the latter, going to the window where Dustin was watching.

“Expanding the menu.” He answered.

Turning the safety off of the pistol, you walked towards the door, stopping at the first seat and watching carefully from the small opening there.

Through the fog you could see him swing the bat, getting himself ready as he planted his feet. “Steve, watch out!” Lucas yelled from the top of the bus.

“A little busy here!” Steve shouted back, not turning around, Dart and him would be having a staring contest if the thing had eyes.

“Three o’clock!”

You turned to look at Dustin and Max who were already staring at you, seemingly waiting for your next move. But there wasn’t much of one you could make. Knowing Steve, and the manner that he left the bus in, He’d be furious that you left the bus. And while you were never one to listen to a boy not much older than you, or even middle aged teachers, you didn’t know what you’d do if you left the bus and one of them got hurt.

“Shit.” You mumbled seeing more in the direction Lucas was yelling about. You move the two feet to the door, Dustin following your lead as you pulled open the rusting doors.

“Steve!” You shouted to get his attention as Dustin did the same.

“Steve! Abort! Abort!”

You held up the pistol, your index finger finding the trigger and firing as one of the creatures began to sprint in Steve’s direction The bullet barely grazed it.

Steve rolled over the hood of a car as Lucas and Max joined in on yelling at Steve to get him back inside the bus.

You didn’t have much time to think, one second being on your feet, and the next flat on your ass, back against Dustin’s leg as Steve landed against you. Feet pushing the door closed.

One of their arms burst through, and the kids ran to the back of the bus while Steve got back up and began to hit the thing’s limb with the bat.

Pushing yourself up off the ground when you heard Dustin on his walkie and them all scream and get up from the ground you made your way over, as a loud thudding came from on top of the roof.

Max looked at you, before back up at the emergency exit above her. THe fear was evident on her face before she even let out the scream which had you and Steve both running over, with you grabbing Max and Steve pushing the four of you behind him.

“Out of the way! Out of the way!” He yelled, before directing his attention to the dog like creature that was looking down at the four of five of you. “You want some? Come get this!”

Mid growl, the creature looked up, chittering at nothing before he turned and hopped off of the bus, shaking the broken down vehicle in the process.

You were stunned into silence, but you quietly turned the safety of the pistol back on and tucked it away.

Looking at the floor beneath you, you felt someone grab your hand. Looking up you saw Steve looking at you, quietly mouthing the words ‘you okay?’ to you. Nodding you gave his hand a half-hearted squeeze before he began to lead you to the front of the bus, letting go of your hand to open the door and quietly step out.

“What happened?” Lucas questioned, as if any of you would know the answer to his question.

“I don’t know.” Max responded

“Steve scared ‘em off?” Dustin suggested in a more inquiring tone while you stepped off the bus, looking at Steve while he looked off in the direction ‘Dart’ and his friends ran in.

“No. No way.” Steve answered, turning to look at the middle schoolers. “They’re going somewhere.”

• • •

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#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington slow burn

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