#but if they’re rivals. that’s a death match | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slut4evanpeters · 24 days ago

Text

WitchBitch

james patrick march x fem!witch!reader

song i recommend listening to: spellbound by siouxise and the banshees

warnings: slow burn smut, master kink, overstimulation, fingering, obsession, mind tricks, smut at the very end and im sorry it ends abruptly🙁

summary: you are a rival witch of cordelia and her coven. To play mind games with her, you deicide to hold queenie in the hotel under a spell.

word count: 7.2k

notes: i came up with this in the shower.... i kind of rushed the smut im so bad at writing smut im sorry guys.. AND im so sorry for all the build up💀 when i write i cannot stop.

MDNI 18+

At the center of this forgotten palace of despair stood James Patrick March, poised in his fine three-piece suit. His sharp jawline and slicked-back hair framed a face that had not known the passage of time in decades. His dark eyes flickered with excitement, a glint of amusement dancing within them as he surveyed his kingdom. He leaned against the desk stood in the lobby, inspecting the tarnished silver of his pocket watch. Time, after all, had little meaning here, and yet, for James, the ticking of the clock always held a promise of something. Usually chaos.

“Darling,” came a voice from the grand staircase behind him, silky and soft, yet edged with a power that made the air hum.

He turned, a wide grin spreading across his face as he beheld his wife descending the staircase with all the grace and presence of a queen. You moved with an ethereal elegance, your long black dress trailing behind you like a shadow. Lock of hair cascaded over your shoulders, framing a face that was both beautiful and formidable, eyes like obsidian and sharp as a blade. You were every bit the rival to the Supreme of the coven that now sought you out, yet you moved as though nothing and no one could ever challenge your dominance.

“My love,” James purred, straightening from the desk and walking toward you with a swagger that was both dangerous and playful. He reached for your hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it reverently. His eyes never left yours, and the fire that burned in their depths was matched only by the one that coursed through your veins. “You grow more enchanting with each passing moment.”

You smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of your lips that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. “And you, my dearest James, ever the flatterer. But we both know you’re simply excited for the evening’s new guests.”

“Ah, yes,” James sighed dramatically, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “The witches. It’s been far too long since we’ve had such promising prey wander through our doors.” His eyes gleamed, and you could practically hear the wheels of his mind turning, already plotting the wicked games he would play with them.

You glanced toward the large, iron-bound doors of the hotel, sensing the approach of powerful magic. The coven was close now. Their magic thrummed in the air, sharp and clean, an affront to the ancient, dark energy that permeated the Cortez. They were intruding, bringing their light into a place where it had no business being.

“You do realize, my darling, that these witches are not mere mortals,” you said, your voice low and sultry, a warning laced within. “They’re Cordelia’s, and she is not one to be trifled with.”

James’s smile widened. “Oh, I do hope so.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his eagerness. Despite his boundless enthusiasm for torment and chaos, you found his charm irresistible. It was that very dark charisma that had drawn you to him so many years ago, when your paths had first crossed in the shadows of death and magic. While most saw him as a madman, a murderer, you saw the brilliance in his madness, the artistry in his destruction. He was your perfect match, and together, you had created a life within the Cortez. An empire of secrets, blood, and eternal devotion.

“Don’t let your games get out of hand,” you murmured, resting your hand lightly on his chest. “Not yet, at least. There’s much to be gained from this encounter, and I’d rather not have it end too quickly.”

His expression softened, his hand coming up to gently cup your face. “Of course, my love. For you, I shall practice…restraint.”

You arched a brow, knowing full well how long such promises lasted with him, but you trusted that his loyalty to you would hold. It always had. His devotion to you was absolute, just as yours was to him.

“I’ll handle Cordelia,” you continued. “She knows I’m here, she’ll come for me first. The others are less important. Let them wander, let them think they have the upper hand.”

James’s grin turned predatory. “And then, we shall give them a proper welcome.”

The two of you stood in the dim light of the lobby, a portrait of dark elegance and dangerous power, ready to face whatever came next. Together, you were unstoppable.

Cordelia Goode had always been cautious, but there was a grim determination in her eyes as she stood outside the Hotel Cortez, flanked by several members of her coven. The hotel loomed before them, an imposing structure of iron and stone, its windows like hollow eyes staring back at them. The air around the hotel felt wrong, thick with malevolent energy.

“I can feel Queenie,” Cordelia said, her voice quiet but resolute. “She’s trapped in there. But there’s something else. Something darker.”

“Is it her?” asked Zoe, glancing nervously at the building. The younger witch had heard the stories about the infamous rival of their coven, the witch who had once stood toe to toe with the previous Supreme, Fiona Goode, and lived to tell the tale. A witch whose power was said to rival even Cordelia’s.

“Yes,” Cordelia confirmed, her lips pressed into a thin line. “She’s here. And she’s the one who holds Queenie’s soul.”

The coven exchanged uneasy glances. They knew what this meant. This wasn’t just a rescue mission, this was a confrontation with a force as old and powerful as any they had faced.

“We go in together,” Cordelia said firmly, “and we do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Our goal is to find Queenie and get out. Understood?”

The witches nodded in agreement, though there was an undercurrent of fear beneath their bravado. None of them knew exactly what they would face inside the Cortez, but they trusted in their Supreme’s leadership.

As they pushed open the heavy doors of the hotel, they were immediately engulfed by its oppressive atmosphere. The air inside was thick, suffocating, and the very walls seemed to pulse with a dark energy. The witches instinctively huddled closer together, their magical senses heightened, every nerve on edge.

“Stay close,” Cordelia whispered, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of life or death.

They moved cautiously through the lobby, their footsteps echoing in the silence. There was no sign of anyone, no indication of the horrors that lurked within. Yet the magic here was unmistakable, a heavy blanket of darkness that threatened to smother them with every step.

And then, a voice rang out, smooth and elegant, laced with a dark amusement.

“Cordelia Goode, the Supreme herself. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

You stepped out from the shadows, your presence commanding the room in an instant. The witches stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of you dressed in black, your eyes glittering with power and amusement.

Cordelia’s expression hardened. “You know why we’re here.”

You smiled, a slow, predatory smile. “Yes, of course. The poor little witch, trapped in my hotel. You’ve come to retrieve her.”

Cordelia stepped forward, her voice unwavering. “Let Queenie go.”

You tilted your head slightly, considering her. “And why would I do that? She came here of her own accord, after all. It’s not my fault she couldn’t handle the…atmosphere.”

Behind you, James appeared, his expression one of gleeful anticipation. He was clearly enjoying the tension in the room, his eyes flitting between you and the witches like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Now, now, my love,” he said, his voice a dark purr. “Let’s not be too hasty. I think our guests have only just arrived.”

You remained still, your gaze never leaving Cordelia’s. The Supreme witch’s determination was palpable, but so was the unease rippling through her coven. You could feel the raw tension in the room, the fear of the unknown, of a place that fed on souls.

James stepped forward, his stride confident and languid, almost like a panther stalking its prey. He cast an amused glance toward the witches, his hands clasped behind his back as if he were about to address guests at a grand party.

“My dear ladies,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet, “you’ve wandered into my humble abode, and yet, you haven’t even introduced yourselves. Quite rude, wouldn’t you agree?”

You raised an eyebrow at Cordelia, your amusement matching James’s. “James does so love proper introductions.”

Cordelia’s lips pressed into a thin line, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Enough games,” she snapped. “We’re here for Queenie. We’re not leaving without her.”

“Ah, yes,” James said, his smile widening as he looked up toward the ceiling, as if recalling a fond memory. “The one who thought she could wield power here. A futile endeavor, really.”

“She belongs to my coven,” Cordelia said, her voice steady, though you could see the flicker of frustration in her eyes. “And I will not leave her here to suffer in this wretched place.”

James tilted his head, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Suffer? I don’t know if she’s suffering, dear, but she certainly isn’t going anywhere.”

You watched Cordelia closely. You could feel her power, her strength radiating from her in controlled waves. She was no fool. She knew what she was up against, and yet she had come. That kind of courage, or perhaps it was desperation, made her dangerous. But you had been waiting for this confrontation, this inevitable meeting between you and Cordelia, two witches on opposite sides of magic, each vying for control in their own way.

“You’re a fool if you think you can walk in here and demand anything,” you said, your voice calm but lethal. “This hotel is not a place for your kind. Magic here is twisted, corrupted. Your light will do nothing but feed the shadows.”

“I’m well aware of the darkness that lurks here,” Cordelia said, her eyes flicking from you to James, and then back to you. “But I won’t leave without her.”

A tense silence followed her words, and you felt the coven shift behind her, preparing themselves for whatever might come next. James’s smile was almost gleeful now, his eyes lighting up with the promise of chaos. He took a step closer to Cordelia, but before he could speak, you laid a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“Patience, my love,” you said softly, though your voice carried a warning. “There’s no need to rush.”

He looked down at you, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something only you ever saw. Devotion. In all his madness, his bloodlust, there was one constant: you. He would burn the world for you, but he would also restrain his hand at your command.

He nodded slightly, and you turned back to Cordelia. “I’ll make you a deal, Supreme.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. “I’m listening.”

“Find Queenie, if you can,” you said, your voice smooth as silk. “If she truly wants to leave, I’ll allow it. But if she’s chosen to remain…well, that’s another matter entirely.”

Cordelia’s jaw clenched, but she nodded. “Agreed.”

You smiled faintly, knowing that she had no idea what she was truly agreeing to. “Good. I’ll even give you a head start. This hotel has many secrets, after all. You may find that time slips away from you faster than you realize.”

With a wave of your hand, the air in the lobby shifted, the dark energy of the hotel pulsing with newfound intensity. The witches tensed as the walls around them seemed to ripple, and the very atmosphere became heavier, more oppressive.

“Good luck,” you said, your voice low and laced with amusement. “You’ll need it.”

Cordelia gave you one last hard look before turning to her coven. “Stay together,” she ordered, her voice firm. “And don’t trust anything you see.”

The witches moved cautiously, their eyes darting around the room as they made their way deeper into the hotel. You watched them go, feeling the pulse of the hotel’s malevolent energy feeding off their fear, twisting the corridors ahead of them into a labyrinth of confusion and dread.

As the last witch disappeared from sight, James let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, they have no idea, do they?”

You turned to him, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “Not in the slightest.”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Shall we watch them squirm, darling?”

You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with dark delight. “Oh, yes. You know me so well.”

Cordelia led her coven through the dimly lit hallways of the Cortez, her senses on high alert. The walls seemed to close in around them, shifting and warping as they moved, but she kept her focus on the faint magical trace that lingered in the air. She could still feel Queenie’s presence, but it was faint, as though something—or someone—was deliberately obscuring her.

“This place is a nightmare,” Zoe muttered, glancing nervously at the flickering lights overhead.

“Stay close,” Cordelia said again, her voice steady. “This hotel plays tricks. It’s feeding off the darkness within it.”

“Do you really think she’ll let Queenie go?” Madison asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. “She didn’t exactly seem eager to bargain.”

Cordelia didn’t respond immediately. She knew the witch who ruled this hotel—knew her power, her cunning. The woman was dangerous, and whatever hold she had over the hotel made her nearly invincible here. But Cordelia couldn’t afford to show doubt. She had to believe that she could bring Queenie back, no matter the cost.

“She’s stalling,” Cordelia said finally. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t find her.”

The witches moved in silence for a while, the oppressive air of the hotel making it hard to think clearly. The corridors stretched endlessly before them, each one seeming to lead deeper into the maze-like structure. Cordelia could feel the hotel’s magic pushing against her, trying to disorient her, but she held firm. She had to.

After what felt like hours, they turned a corner and came face to face with a tall, dark door at the end of the hall. Cordelia felt the pull of magic behind it—strong, twisted magic that made her stomach turn.

“She’s in there,” Cordelia said, her heart pounding.

The witches exchanged uneasy glances, but they followed Cordelia as she approached the door. With a deep breath, she pushed it open.

Inside, the room was vast and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old wood and decay. And there, in the center of the room, sat Queenie.

She looked different, her eyes hollow, her skin clammy. She stared straight ahead, unmoving, as though she hadn’t noticed them enter.

“Queenie,” Cordelia whispered, stepping forward.

But as she approached, she felt the familiar pull of magic around her, a trap.

The door slammed shut behind them, and the lights flickered out.

In the darkness, you and James watched from the shadows, your smiles hidden but unmistakable.

Let the game begin.

The room plunged into darkness, and the oppressive weight of magic bore down on Cordelia and her coven. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the very walls of the Hotel Cortez were alive, breathing and shifting around them. Cordelia’s heart pounded in her chest, but her voice remained steady.

“Stay calm,” she commanded, though she could sense the rising panic in the witches behind her.

“Queenie,” Cordelia called again, her voice carrying through the heavy shadows. She could still see Queenie, seated in the center of the room, her figure faintly illuminated by the dying embers of the flickering lights. Yet, the silence from her was unnerving—no movement, no response. Something was terribly wrong.

Madison, always quick to lash out when threatened, raised her hand, a burst of energy erupting from her fingertips to light up the space. The dim glow revealed the eerie stillness of the room, but as the energy crackled toward Queenie, it dissipated against an invisible barrier, fizzling out before it could even reach her.

“Damn it!” Madison hissed, frustration evident in her voice. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s not her,” Zoe whispered, her voice shaking as her eyes darted around the room. “It’s a trap.”

Cordelia took a step closer, her hand outstretched toward Queenie. Her instincts screamed for her to pull back, but she had come too far to hesitate now. The closer she got, the more she could feel the distortion in the air, the unnatural magic wrapping around her friend. Something was holding Queenie in place, something ancient and powerful.

Just as her fingers brushed the edge of the barrier surrounding Queenie, the room shuddered violently. The lights flickered back to life, casting the room in a sickly, yellow glow. And then, with a low, menacing chuckle, the shadows shifted.

James Patrick March stepped out of the gloom, his eyes gleaming with predatory delight. He was the picture of calm elegance, his three-piece suit immaculate as always, but there was a madness in his grin that sent a shiver down Cordelia’s spine.

“My, my,” James said, his voice dripping with amusement. “You’ve made it so far, Supreme. I must say, I’m impressed.”

Cordelia didn’t flinch. Her eyes remained locked on James, her expression hardening. “Where is she?”

James raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Who, darling? The witch trapped in her own mind? Or the one you call Queenie?”

“You know damn well what I mean,” Cordelia snapped. “Let her go.”

James’s smile widened, his gaze flicking between the witches. “But why would I do that? You see, Queenie has made herself quite…comfortable here. In fact, I daresay she rather enjoys her time in my humble hotel.”

From the shadows behind James, you emerged, your figure as graceful and commanding as ever. Dressed in your flowing black gown, you looked like a dark queen reigning over a twisted court. Your eyes glittered with dangerous amusement as you took your place beside your husband, your hand lightly resting on his arm.

“She’s ours now,” you said, your voice smooth as silk. “This hotel has a way of holding onto those who don’t belong. Your precious Queenie is no exception.”

Cordelia’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she held her ground, her gaze never leaving you. “Queenie doesn’t belong to anyone,” she said, her voice cold and firm. “I’ll bring her back, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

You smiled, a slow, knowing smile. “You still don’t understand, do you, Cordelia? This hotel… it has its own will. Once you step inside, it doesn’t matter how powerful you are. The Cortez decides who stays, and who leaves.”

“And Queenie,” James added, his eyes alight with dark pleasure, “has already made her choice.”

Cordelia took a step forward, her magic pulsing in the air around her. “You’re wrong. I can feel her. She’s trapped, but she’s fighting. I will free her.”

You and James exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between you. Then, with a slight nod from you, James stepped back, giving you the floor.

“Very well, Supreme,” you said, your tone mocking but laced with undeniable power. “If you believe you can free her, then try. But know this—once you start, there’s no turning back. The Cortez doesn’t like to be challenged, and neither do I.”

Cordelia squared her shoulders, her determination unwavering. She knew this was a battle not just against you and James, but against the very fabric of the hotel itself. But she wasn’t going to back down, not with Queenie’s life on the line.

She raised her hands, and a soft glow began to emanate from her fingertips. The air around her shimmered as she channeled her magic, directing it toward Queenie. The witches behind her tensed, readying themselves for whatever might come next.

But as soon as Cordelia’s magic made contact with the barrier surrounding Queenie, the room erupted into chaos.

The walls seemed to bend and twist, the floor beneath them rippling like water. The lights flickered violently, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to move on their own. And then, the laughter started—low, menacing, echoing from every corner of the room.

James’s laughter.

Cordelia’s magic surged against the barrier, but it held strong, feeding off the dark energy of the hotel. Queenie remained frozen, her eyes wide and glassy, as if trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

“You can’t win,” you said, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “This hotel is alive, and it’s hungry. It won’t let her go.”

Cordelia’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t stop. Her magic intensified, the glow around her hands brightening as she pushed harder against the barrier. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she refused to relent.

“Zoe, Madison,” Cordelia barked, her voice strained. “Help me!”

The two witches immediately stepped forward, joining their magic with Cordelia’s. The air crackled with energy as the combined power of the three witches surged toward Queenie, pushing against the dark barrier that held her captive.

But for every inch they gained, the hotel fought back, its malevolent energy twisting and warping around them. The shadows writhed, the walls groaned, and the very air seemed to close in, choking them.

James watched, his grin never faltering. “Oh, how delightful,” he mused. “Such

determination, such power. But it’s all for nothing.”

You stood by his side, your arms crossed, watching with cool detachment. Part of you admired Cordelia’s strength, her refusal to give up even in the face of overwhelming odds. But you knew how this would end. The Cortez had claimed Queenie, just as it had claimed so many others before her.

Still, there was something intriguing about watching Cordelia fight, watching her defy the will of the hotel and push herself beyond her limits. You wondered, briefly, if perhaps there was more to her than you had given her credit for.

And then, with a deafening crack, the barrier around Queenie shattered.

The room fell silent.

Queenie slumped forward, gasping for breath, her body shaking as the dark magic released its hold on her. Cordelia rushed forward, catching her before she could collapse to the floor.

“You’re okay,” Cordelia whispered, her voice hoarse. “I’ve got you.”

For a moment, it seemed as though they had won.

But then, the floor beneath them began to tremble.

James’s laughter returned, louder, more manic than before. He clapped his hands together, delighted by the unfolding drama. “Oh, how marvelous! You broke the barrier! But I’m afraid it’s far from over.”

You stepped forward, your eyes locked on Cordelia. “You may have freed her from the trap,” you said, your voice soft but deadly, “but the Cortez is not so easily defied.”

The room around them began to warp once again, the walls bending and twisting as the hotel itself reacted to the break in its hold. The shadows grew darker, more oppressive, as the malevolent energy of the hotel surged to reclaim what it had lost.

“You’ve only made it angrier,” you continued, your gaze never leaving Cordelia’s. “And now, it will take everything from you.”

Cordelia’s heart raced, her grip on Queenie tightening as the room around them seemed to collapse in on itself. She had freed her friend, but at what cost?

The hotel was alive, and it was hungry.

And it wasn’t done with them yet.

The floor trembled violently beneath them, the Cortez reacting like a beast enraged. Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat as she held Queenie close, feeling the suffocating darkness around them. The hotel wasn’t merely a structure anymore—it was a force, something ancient, malevolent, and entirely beyond her control. It roared with fury as if the very act of defying its will had triggered a primal hunger that could not be quenched.

Queenie gasped for air, her eyes wide and terrified as she clung to Cordelia’s arm. “We… we have to get out of here,” she rasped, her voice hoarse from the ordeal.

Cordelia’s eyes darted around the room. The shadows were thickening, growing darker and denser, creeping along the walls like living tendrils. The witches could feel it too, the oppressive force pressing down on them, threatening to engulf them.

“We will,” Cordelia promised, though she wasn’t sure how. “Madison, Zoe, stay close.”

Madison’s usual bravado had vanished, her face pale as she looked at the twisting, warping shadows. “This place is alive,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “And it wants us dead.”

“Queenie’s free,” Zoe added, but her voice was shaky. “We did it. We can get out.”

“You think this is over?” you said softly, your voice cutting through the rising tension like a blade. There was an eerie calmness in your tone, but the power behind it was unmistakable. You took a few steps forward, the dark fabric of your gown trailing across the floor like a wave of shadows. “The Cortez doesn’t just let go, Cordelia. You should know that by now.”

Cordelia met your gaze, her determination still burning, but she knew you were right. She could feel it—the hotel wasn’t done with them. It wouldn’t stop until it had claimed something. The darkness was closing in fast, and even the combined magic of the coven felt like a flickering candle in a storm.

James stepped forward as well, his smile never faltering. He relished the chaos, the fear, and the power that swirled around him. “You’ve broken one little spell, Supreme,” he said, tilting his head. “But now, the hotel is awake. And it’s hungry. You’ve only made things… more interesting.”

His voice dripped with excitement, as if he couldn’t wait to see how this would unfold. His dark eyes glittered with madness as he stepped closer to you, his arm casually slipping around your waist. There was something so grotesque yet elegant in the way he moved, like a spider closing in on a fly caught in its web.

You allowed him to pull you closer, your eyes still on Cordelia. “This hotel is more than just brick and mortar,” you continued, your voice low but commanding. “It’s a living entity, sustained by the souls it consumes. It’s bound to us now. James and I are its caretakers… and its rulers. You can’t fight that.”

Cordelia clenched her fists, her magic crackling in the air around her. “I’ll fight for her, for all of them,” she said, her voice unwavering despite the rising panic. “I’ve faced worse than you.”

But deep down, Cordelia knew you were right. The Cortez was a labyrinth, designed to disorient and ensnare those who wandered its halls. Every inch of it was saturated with dark magic, and even with all her power, she wasn’t sure if she could get them out. Not without losing someone.

“Zoe, Madison,” Cordelia said, her tone sharp, urgent. “We need to find a way out. Now.”

Madison glanced at the walls, which seemed to pulse and ripple like the surface of a black sea. “And how exactly do we do that?” she snapped, her usual snark barely concealing the fear in her voice. “The hotel’s turned into a nightmare.”

“It was always a nightmare,” you said, your lips curving into a knowing smile. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

Zoe tried to focus, reaching out with her magic to feel for a way out, a path that wasn’t sealed off by the hotel’s will. But every hallway, every exit, felt wrong, twisted. The hotel’s presence was everywhere, smothering and relentless. It was like trying to navigate through quicksand.

Cordelia’s mind raced. There had to be a way. She wasn’t about to let this place trap them forever. She glanced toward the faint light at the far end of the room, where the corridor led deeper into the hotel. It was risky, but it was the only option she could see. They had to move, and fast.

“Follow me,” she ordered, pulling Queenie to her feet.

But before they could take a step, the ground beneath them shifted violently, sending cracks spider-webbing across the floor. The walls groaned as if the hotel itself was coming to life, ready to swallow them whole.

James clapped his hands together, laughing with wild abandon. “Ah, darling, it’s glorious! The Cortez is truly showing its teeth tonight.”

You watched with a detached sort of amusement, but beneath it, there was a deeper understanding. The hotel’s power had always been great, but this was different. Cordelia’s defiance had stirred something ancient within the walls, something that even you and James could not fully control.

“I’d move quickly if I were you,” you said, your voice calm but edged with danger. “The Cortez has no patience for witches who think they can bend it to their will.”

Cordelia didn’t need to be told twice. She darted toward the hallway, her coven right behind her. The hotel groaned and shifted around them, the walls elongating and warping, but Cordelia kept her focus ahead, refusing to let the disorienting magic of the place deter her.

You and James watched as they fled, knowing full well the Cortez would not let them escape so easily. The hotel had a way of twisting time and space, trapping its victims in an endless loop of horror and madness.

“Do you think they’ll make it out?” James asked, his tone light, as if discussing the outcome of a dinner party.

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing as you watched the witches disappear down the corridor. “Perhaps. But even if they do… they won’t leave unscathed.”

James chuckled, pulling you closer as he gazed into your eyes with that adoring madness only he could embody. “I do love when you’re right, my darling.”

You smiled, the dark energy of the hotel swirling around you. “And if they manage to survive, well, they’ll know that the Cortez leaves its mark on everyone who dares to challenge it.”

Cordelia and her coven ran, the hallway stretching impossibly long before them. The hotel was fighting them, twisting reality to keep them trapped. Every door they passed seemed to lead to another version of the same corridor, looping endlessly.

“We’re running in circles!” Madison shouted, her frustration spilling over.

“Keep moving,” Cordelia commanded, though she could feel the walls closing in, the magic warping around them.

Queenie stumbled, still weak from the spell that had held her, but Zoe caught her before she could fall. “We’re not leaving without you,” Zoe said firmly.

Cordelia tried to focus, tried to find a break in the hotel’s magic, a weak point they could use to escape. But the energy of the Cortez was overwhelming, seeping into her bones, clouding her mind. It was as if the hotel itself was alive, hunting them, savoring their fear.

But then, just when all seemed lost, Cordelia felt it—a faint flicker of light, a thread of energy that didn’t belong to the hotel. It was a small opening, a chance.

“There!” she shouted, pointing ahead.

The witches rushed forward, following Cordelia as she led them toward the faint glimmer of hope. The hotel groaned around them, resisting, but Cordelia pushed through, her magic flaring as she reached for the thread of energy. With a final burst of power, she tore open a rift in the fabric of the hotel’s magic.

A door appeared before them, glowing faintly with the light of the outside world.

“Go!” Cordelia ordered.

The witches didn’t hesitate. One by one, they stumbled through the door, back into the cold night air beyond the hotel’s cursed walls.

Cordelia was the last to pass through, her heart pounding in her chest as she cast one final glance back at the Cortez. The darkness inside seemed to ripple, as if the hotel was watching her, waiting.

As the heavy door of the Cortez sealed shut behind the fleeing witches, the hotel's energy hummed with satisfaction, like a predator content after a brief but thrilling hunt. The dark magic of the place settled back into its familiar rhythm-watchful, patient, knowing that no one ever really left the Cortez. Its halls would call them back, just as it had done countless times before.

You stood beside James, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer.

The witches had escaped for now, but their connection to the hotel remained, and that was enough. The thrill of the chase had rekindled something in you-a reminder of the power and control you wielded in this place, alongside James. It was intoxicating.

James, ever observant, noticed the shift in your demeanor. He turned toward you, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and admiration. "Ah, my darling," he purred, stepping closer to you.

"You were magnificent, as always. Watching you wield the hotel's magic like that, there's nothing quite as exquisite."

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I could say the same for you, James. You do have a flair for theatrics." Your voice was laced with affection, though beneath it, there was something more, a simmering intensity that had been stirred by the night's events.

He chuckled softly, his hand finding the small of your back, pulling you into his embrace. His touch was familiar yet electric, a spark that always seemed to ignite whenever the two of you were close.

The twisted elegance of his presence, the madness in his eyes—it matched the darkness within you, and together, you were an unstoppable force. A perfect pair.

James leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice low and velvety. "The way you command this hotel, the way you ensnare those who dare challenge us... it makes me fall in love with you all over again."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head slightly, allowing your lips to graze his neck. "Oh, James,' you whispered, your voice a soft purr. "You know as well as I do that this place, this power-it belongs to the both of us. We rule together, and thats what makes it so powerful. It belongs to both of us. We rule together, and that's what makes it so... intoxicating."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was dark, intense, filled with the same hunger you felt coursing through you. "Indeed, my love. We are bound, not just by this hotel, but by something far deeper." His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb tracing your cheek as if memorizing every detail.

"You're mine, and I am yours. Forever."

There was something possessive, almost primal, in the way he said it-like a vow that transcended time and death. And in that moment, you felt the full weight of your bond, the dark and beautiful connection that tied you and James together in ways that few could understand. It was a love forged in blood, in madness, in power. It was both your strength and your obsession.

Your breath hitched as his words hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. You could feel the pulse of the hotel around you, as if it, too, recognized the depth of what you shared. Slowly, you leaned in, closing the space between you, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was soft at first, but quickly deepened into something far more intense.

James responded eagerly, his hands tightening around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips were fervent, his kiss filled with the passion and madness that always simmered just beneath his polished surface.

The world around you seemed to blur, the only reality that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the way his hands roamed over your body with the same possessiveness that echoed in his words.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as the kiss grew more fervent, more desperate. It was as though the two of you were trying to consume each other, to merge completely into one.

The intensity of your connection, your love, had always bordered on obsession, and tonight it felt even more heightened, charged by the dark energy of the hotel and the thrill of the night's events.

James broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against your lips, his voice ragged with desire. "You drive me mad, my love.

Every time I look at you, every time I touch you... I burn for you."

You smiled against his mouth, your own desire mirroring his. "Then burn, James. Burn with me."

With a low growl of pleasure, he captured your lips again, the kiss deeper, more demanding. His hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting every nerve. You could feel the heat between you building, the air around you crackling with the raw intensity of your shared desire.

James lifted you effortlessly, and with a graceful spin, pressed you back against the nearest wall, his body pinning yours as he kissed you with a fervor that bordered on desperation. His lips left yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as

he whispered your name like a prayer.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him on as your own need consumed you.

The world outside-the witches, the Cortez, everything-faded away, leaving only two of you, bound together in this intoxicating dance of passion and power.

James's mouth found yours again, and this time, the kiss was slow, deliberate, a contrast to the frenzied energy of moments before. It was a kiss filled with promise, with the dark love that had sustained you both for so long. The Cortez was your kingdom, but this. This was your sanctuary.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you were breathless, your bodies humming with the shared intensity of the moment. His hand gently cradled your face, his thumb brushing across your lips.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "For now, for always. You are my queen, my everything."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depths of his devotion, the madness and love that mirrored your own. "And I love you, James," you murmured, your voice soft but filled with the same intensity.

"We are eternal, you and I. Bound by blood, by power, by love. Forever."

His lips curved into that familiar, wicked smile, the one that always sent a thrill through you. "Forever, my love," he echoed, before capturing your lips once more in a kiss that sealed the vow between you-two souls bound together in darkness, for all eternity.

And as the Cortez hummed softly around you, it, too, seemed to recognize the power of the bond you shared. You and James were the heart of this place, the rulers of its twisted halls.

Later that night.

The sound of skin connecting with moans and loud huffs of breath is lost in the air, leaving nothing but the feeling of your pleasure in its absence as James fucks himself into your cunt.

Each time his cock pressed into you, slick dribbled out of your chubby cunt, staining the once clean sheets. He failed to put a towel under you like he usually does, too desperate to get inside you to care about something as silly as dirtied bed sheets.

Your legs were spread wide on the bed, each ankle hanging over the side of the bed. You rested your head on the pillow underneath you, arms resting under the cool side of the fabric.

He has no mercy, almost ruthless in the way he fucks you. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you cum at this point, and what’s funny is he hasn’t even came once, leaving you in a puddle of pleasure that seems to never end even when you start crying.

James's back was arched harshly downwards, legs over yours, keeping them flush to the bed. His hips started to move faster, the once quiet sounds becoming loud and sloppy. Heavy balls slapped into your folds, making you moan out in needy pleasure.

A soft hand went down to your cunt, thumbing your lips apart to rub at your throbbing clit. His forefinger moved in quick, small circles, pressing against it hard.

"Oh, darling, yeah, just like that, clench your pussy just like that, clench that little cunt nice and tight around your masters cock." James groaned in your ear darkly, sucking a deep purple hickey into your hairline. "Always so fucking good for your master hm? Just Ravishing, aren't you, Dear?"

Your hips bucked hard into his hand, making his cock slip further inside of your sloppy pussy. "James-Ma-Master! B-Big, s-s-so so big! Fuck, fuck, it's so good James please!" Your cunt throbbed around him like it had its own heartbeat, slick sliding down from your hole onto the exposed part of James's cock. "Need-Need you to fuck me-!" Your voice broke off into a high-pitched whine when James started thrusting again, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you.

James doesn't stop thrusting, even when you beg and moan to tell warn him that you're close. He wasn't going to stop until he had you shaking and crying out for mercy underneath him. His hands move from your shoulder blades to your waist, pulling them up to meet his hips. James started using you like a glorified fleshlight, hips meeting yours halfway every time he pushed back inside you harshly. Quiet grunts came from him, matching up with the slapping of his hips.

"Master, Master, Master, Master-! C-Can-Can't!"

"Aww, that's it, that's it, sweetheart. Cum all over your Master's cock. That's it, my good fucking girl." You clenched around him tightly, throbbing and pulsing as you gushed all over him. "That's it, there you go, cumming for your Master like a good little princess." James moaned in your ear, biting and tugging on it as you quivered. "What'ta slutty little girl, so needy for me."

The consistent clenching around his cock drove him to the edge, his face scrunching up when his orgasm finally hit him. Thick ropes of cum shot inside of you, forcing a sultry, drawn-out moan from your lips. He pushed his cock deep inside you, ensuring that all of his spunk stayed inside of you. "That's it, good girl, what'ta good girl. Keepin' all my cum nice'n warm for me." James pressed on your abdomen gently, smirking when a small amount of cum leaked out of your cunt.

"Aww, it's leaking out of you, Darling. Guess we're gonna have to go again to keep you filled."

#evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #evan peters smut #james patrick march #james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x y/n #james patrick march smut #jpm x reader #jpm smut #ahs hotel #american horror story

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oxydiane · 2 years ago

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sns is so fucking unhinged and nobody will ever be them i’m sorry. you start the series and it’s like oh haha look at these goofy angsty rivals! they hate each other! then sasuke dies for naruto thirty chapters in giving up his dream of revenge and naruto goes batshit insane. now you’re like ah they’re friends i guess that’s cute! and sasuke is trying to kill naruto because he’s the most important person in his life which is . ok and it becomes the driving force of everything or something. sasuke leaves and naruto dedicates the rest of his life to bringing him back and you’re still a casual fan so ur like he’s doing it for the promise right? then orochimaru says sasuke is his and naruto goes batshit insane feral homicidal (again) and after that sasuke reappears and they have ??? like five different panels dedicated to them staring at each other??? and he jumps off a mountain and hugs naruto for some reasons just to whisper some gay shit in his ear kishimoto frankly needs to be jailed drawing this and keep that best friend nonsense going. anyways. you have sasuke become a convicted terrorist to which the normal people response is “ok we need to hunt him down” and when naruto learns they’re gonna hunt him down he starts screaming crying throwing up he has a panic attack he can’t breathe he’s falling in the snow he gets on his knees and begs them to spare his BFF. after having a meltdown over the thought of sasuke dying what may possibly be the natural coping mechanism any stable person would adapt? of course realising that if sasuke dies he can die too. so he sees sasuke again and after he attempts murdering sakura twice and expresses the intent to murder kakashi he’s like. i will bear the burden of your hatred and die with you hehe and if we both die you won’t be an uchiha and i won’t be the jinchuuriki to the nine tails and we’ll be able to understand each other better in a different lifetime! WE’LL MEET AGAIN IN THE AFTERLIFE BECAUSE NOT EVEN DEATH CAN DO US PART! and sasuke (just as insane as him) doesn’t even flinch he’s like what the fuck is wrong with you but then ok let’s fuckingggf die together on my god i will kill your first anyways . then they find out they are soulmates and get cute matching tattoos on their hands and decide to fight to the death once more because sasuke is back on his i will shoulder all the hatred of the world alone and i need to kill you because i love you more than anyone else in the world actually you’re the only person i love so you need to DIE and naruto is like I WILL NOT LET YOU SHOULDER THAT HATRED ALONE I WILL FREE YOU FROM THE PAIN and they fight and despite all the whatever weapons used in the war it’s a fuckinggg fistfight in which just as sasuke is about to inflict what he thinks is the last blow says “farewell… my one and only…………………. (very long pause to accentuate how heteronormative this next word is gonna be) FRIEND” and fucking stops using his sharingan because not even then he can record the image of naruto dying especially by his hand but naruto STOPS HIM LIKE A f cHAMP and they end up blowing each other’s arms off (rip the matchies) and as they’re bleeding to the fucking death sasuke is like you’re the only person that has never tried to severe their ties with me why do you go so far for me and naruto from the depths of comphet hell is like because you’re my FRIEND and sasuke being absolutely done with this bullshit is like ok what the fuck does that mean to you then and this is where it gets even gayer and relatable because naruto is like i don’t KNOW i just know that when you hurt i hurt and i just can’t take it and isn’t that the most gay experience thing ever? naruto knows what it feels like to have friends but what he feels for sasuke is so bone deep and unconventional that he cannot make sense of it and can only describe the pain it brings. after that sasuke CRIES LIKE THEYVE GOT ME SOOO FUCKED UP but you know what got me even more fucked up?

naruto waking up bloodied and battered and half alive with one arm missing but still wondering if that was heaven because sasuke was next to him. sasuke looking so happy and peaceful when saying “i lost” as a stark contrast to him looking and feeling like half of his body was being torn apart when he “won” against naruto in vote1 and left him. the bitterness of victory vs the sweetness of losing if you will. AND HIM COMPARING WHAT HE FEELS FOR NARUTO TO PRAYING MY GODD. did i forget to mention that then we learn that Ohhh it was never a stupid shallow rivalry as we all thought! they have actually been watching each other from afar since they were little freshly traumatised children and have longed to hold each other’s hands since then! what was it sasukeeee you felt warm and fuzzy when you saw naruto to thought of it as a weakness? these two are so astronomically hopelessly desperately obsessed in love with each other it’s ridiculous i’ve had ENOUGH free me from this mental prison

#soo talks #its 4 am #this is word vomit #ignore me #naruto #naruto shitpost #sns #narusasu #sasunaru #pro sns #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #thoughts

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iridescentdove · 1 year ago

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What about a Platonic! BSD x Child! Reader is very smart, like almost Ranpo-level smart, but they don’t use their smarts and intellect for anything at all except for online video games, board games, etc., and they’re lazy and don’t go outside at all. Plus, the first time Reader and Dazai had a game of chess, Dazai literally lost two moves in, and Dazai was rethinking his entire life choices in that moment because how the fu-

(How Dazai and Reader’s game of chess went *REAL* link)

WHY DO I HEAR BOSS MUSIC?

platonic!bsd x child!smart!reader

A/N: I for an odd reason, love it when characters are humbled and seen inferior 😭 I love this request too! Here it is~

Everyone loves you.

I'm so jealous rn /j

Well as a kid it would be expected to be like that! Although, it was a little different as you were ... considered unique to other children around you. How so?

ULTRA DEDUCTION BABY.

No but for real. FUKUZAWA merely took you into the agency since you seemed to have had no parents by your side to take care of you. As such, he took on the responsibility himself. The agency takes care of you now! <3

Anyways, let's say you were basically rivalling RANPO in terms of deduction and overall smartness capabilities, as he now thinks you are a worthy opponent.

But even he himself lost to someone like DAZAI.

Yes. Of course it was true, the suicidal detective just seemed to be way too good. The so-called 'world's best detective' had lost to a man, in which who, flirts with women 24/7 and asks for double suicide everywhere he went.

But to say the day came when brunette's demise lurked around the corner ... because of a chess game.

The agency had nothing important going on in particular as the peace of Yokohama was maintained in the meantime. Simply put, you guys were on vacation. So what else to do other than some old family bonding?

There were lots of activities planned that day, and everyone had enjoyed it to the fullest. You did also find it fun, but ... of course, for someone your age – you were mature as fuck.

And so, you did what everyone wouldn't have the balls to do.

Challenge DAZAI OSAMU himself to a chess match.

So obviously, everyone got a bit nervous. Pretty sure you had no idea how smart the suicidal maniac was, nor did they ever believe you would last a good 'ol round even once. By some experience of a certain detective – there is absolutely no one better than DAZAI himself.

The chess game went on. You looked so cute and innocent! Maybe he should go easy on you?? After all, you're just a kid.

And yet ... he was downright horrified.

In a matter of four turns in, the death-craving young man was absolutely OBLITERATED by you. Upon the match ending, a pin drop silence was heard. Eyes widened in shock, whom even RANPO himself never imagined such. Everyone never spoke, not even coughed for a solid 5 minutes.

But it was true. You DID defeat him. FUKUZAWA had the face of a very proud parent – he really didn't think you'd emerge victory in this small innocent match.

The president promised to treat you out next time a successful mission was in tow. Of course, DAZAI couldn't believe he had lost to you! A little child!

It would definitely take a lot of time for him to wrap his head around that – but once he does, oh boy.

I think you a little crazy there uncle ahaha

He almost literally brags about your existence everyday to anyone. You can't tell me he hasn't literally shoved in and mocked in front of people's faces with that shit eating grin of his oh my fucking God 😭

Then again, no one is safe. An even better gifted than the two greatest treasures of the Armed Detective Agency.

FYODOR better be shaking in his fugly ass boots.

You're coming for him alright. (and so am I)

Honestly, the ADA cannot be anymore proud to have an ally like you by their side. Missions and war would cease to exist from how well you managed to help them. And even moreso, combined with RANPO himself.

World destruction who?? I only know (Y/N) (L/N) 😍

Your existence is known, everyone knows about what you've done and how respected you are despite your young age.

Who tf let the Port Mafia fuck ya'll up?? Oh nevermind they were destroyed because of ur amazing little ass. The Hunting Dogs tryna tear apart the ADA which was mistaken as terrorists? Umh chill anyways so you already had a plan– RANPO doesn't know what to do for once? You're already there to help. Decay of the Angels? Lives up to their name, they're decaying under your superior brain and intellect.

You're just found to be the lifeline of the agency. In return, everyone treats you very well (spoils you even), making sure you lived your days as a child to the best extreme possible.

And to be frank – no one dare underestimate you anymore.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #platonic bsd #armed detective agency #ada x reader #bsd #decay of angels #port mafia #ranpo edogawa #dazai osamu

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gorgxoxus · 4 months ago

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Ranking the Bridgerton books:

1. The Viscount Who Loved Me - 4 ⭐️. Kate and Anthony’s book is number 1 because the characters were true to themselves throughout the book, I understood their motives and that made them amazing characters to follow as they fall in love with each other. It’s a great rivals to lovers, and seeing their love grow is beautiful. It made me giddy with happiness, kick my feet, cringe and made me almost cry. The angsty first time sex scene was everything I needed it to be. Season 2 was amazing, and the book is almost better!!

2. ⁠When He Was Wicked - 4⭐️. Side note before I get into it: I loved Micheal’s familial relationships in this book, as he grew up with his mother and Johns mother as parental figures, and I consider those two lesbian icons.

I loved reading Francesca and Micheal’s story. When you meet them before their story begins in earnest you see their friendship, and they immediately jumped out of the page as two people who have a fun and interesting connection as friends and ‘cousins/ family’ (they’re not actually cousins, Micheal is John’s cousin). When you meet them four years after John’s death, they have to work to become friends again. In the midst of that you see that Micheal respects Francesca as the countess of Kilmartin as he left her in charge as he left England for four years. Because Michael and Francesca are technically family (Micheal becomes the new Earl of Kilmartin when John dies) and share some residencies the lack of propriety is expected so they are alone together. It brings them together and it lets them do wicked and sexy acts to each other, especially when the story moves to Scotland and they are alone together in the Scottish country-side ( and Francesca’s been married, the power dynamics in the bedroom were 🥵🥵❤️❤️). It was beautiful to see Francesca experience love and desire after loss, and after expecting to get married again just to produce a child (and also keep the Kilmartin name and estates she’s run for years, and her connection with Micheal and John).

3. ⁠ It’s in His Kiss - 4⭐️. Hyacinth and Gareth are the most well matched characters in the series. Hyacinth is such a riot and never shuts up and Gareth is her match. The banter between them is amazing. Hyacinth and Gareth have a shared goal in the book which makes it interesting and gets them into all kinds of trouble. As Hyacinth is a person who knows who she is, that also translated to the best first kiss and first time, as she was taking as much control as she could. There is some dodgy lines of consent in this series, and I appreciated the full and out loud consent Hyacinth gave at all steps. They’re great characters to read about, and Lady Danbury plays a prominent role which is so much fun.

4. ⁠Romancing Mr Bridgerton - 4⭐️. Colin and Penelope’s story ranks fourth because Colin is one of the worst men in this series, with his anger and resentment and hurt he causes Penelope both emotionally and physically were hard to read. I love Penelope in the book, 28 year old her is quietly confident and has some of the best lines of the whole series. This book also highlighted friendship, between Pen and Lady Danbury, Pen and the Bridgertons especially Eloise and Hyacinth and Pen and Colin. I also appreciate this book as the Lady Whistledown plot running parallel to the love story gave it intrigue and drama, and made up for the fact that the romance was very middle of the road.

5. ⁠To Sir Phillip, With Love - 3⭐️. I was nervous about reading Eloise and Phillip’s love story because I had heard bad things about it, but it was fine. Phillip is a bad man, but all the men are in this series. I appreciated that Phillip knew he was bad and wanted to change himself and started to make changes in the small amount of time we had with him in the book, I respected his growth. Eloise is great, of course, speaks her mind, is talkative and interesting. I don’t think they are the most well matched couple but I had an enjoyable time reading the book and I think when they did communicate it did work. Phillips kids from his first marriage are a riot and very well written as children in my opinion. I do read Eloise as queer in the books, she literally runs away from home to a guy she’s never met because Penelope, her bestie she was planning to grow old together as a spinster, got married.

Side note: Penelope, Eloise and Francesca (to Micheal) get married in the same year and month in the books, poor Violet.

6. ⁠On the Way to the Wedding - 3⭐️. Gregory and Lucy had an interesting story (there was action, twists and turns, guns, blackmail, a gay character), but I don’t think they are well matched. Gregory believes so much about true love after watching the rest of his family marry for love, and Lucy values looking after her family and order. They didn’t convince me they were meant to be, they clearly loved each other but was it enough? I was definitely getting jaded near the end of reading the series. And I kept thinking that Lucy is like 17 (she’s the youngest of all the wives by a few years) and Gregory is 26, their age gap really took me out of the story.

7. ⁠The Duke and I - 2.5⭐️. Just watch season 1, the book is almost the same with a little less characterisation and less exciting and beautiful sets and costumes. I respected Simon’s hold on his values, but it definitely conflicted with Daphne’s. I wanted to smash their heads together to communicate. As with the show, the best part is when they are fake courting.

8. ⁠An Offer from a Gentleman - 1.5⭐️

Benedict and Sophie’s story ended up being my least favourite. I actually think Benedict and Sophie are well matched, but some of the things in this book really annoyed me. Benedict is the worst Bridgerton man/ sibling because of inexcusable actions he made in this book. I respected and enjoyed Sophie until she did something totally and completely out of character and then I stopped respecting her. My favourite part was when they met, my least favourite part was almost everything else.

#bridgerton #bridgerton books #julia quinn #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #francesca bridgerton #micheal stirling #hyacinth bridgerton #gareth st clair #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #sir phillip crane #gregory bridgerton #lucy abernathy #daphne bridgerton #simon basset #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett

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nuumbie · 6 months ago

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BRIGHT STAR

Prompt: And so live—ever or else swoon to death. Dain, what does that strand of hair mean to you? Someone you must kill? Or an object of your penitence?

Author’s Note: The Road Not Taken Trailer stuck with me. Abyss Prince/Princess ! Reader. Something overtook me while writing this… I wrote this so I’ve officially have proof of writing for all three fandoms this blog writes for… but at what cost… ( my sanity )

Trigger Warnings: Depression and not being mentally good is pretty heavy handed, the idea of “missing” someone, grief and loss, just generally upsetting mental concepts. And of course. Genshin Spoilers…

Codependency, babes!

Cursed to live as an immortal. His life no longer belonged to only him. For every life which could no longer speak. He would live in their place. Until his body had decayed. Until he could no longer move. Until he had lost all vigor and passion to try.

That day would never come. Even now. He’s never lost focus from his dream.

When he meets you all he's managed to save is the sky.

The sky to the world which has taken everything from him. He wondered if his brethren would be happy to continue the shared existence of this world even after they’re gone. To care for the soil which they once lived. The same world that had taken everything from him was once his home. For every beauty, there was a sadness. He was still preserving its existence. Because. If he hadn’t there would be nothing left of him.

Yes, he was a traveler back then — directionless and without a purpose. Without meaning. A wanderer without a home to return to. Only memories.

Such different lives. Yet you met at the same road at the same time. Khaenri'a Land. He remembers the destruction, the screaming, all the lives lost while he watched helpless.

You share those memories. Why was it. That fate chose to let you both live? Was it destiny’s cruel game? That you both found yourselves in the same world with the same matching wounds.

He wonders when you changed paths?

The world moves on while you both stand there. Firmly rooted in that place and time. Perhaps, he could have stayed there forever.

He remembers— you’re the one who broke the silence. The memory grows farther and farther. But his time with you is something he’s yet to let go. He holds onto it. The memory is similar. It brings him comfort and pain. That’s why it’s meaningful.

“The Gods.” you walk next to him, you’ve already seen to found your answer as you tilt your head up towards him. You’re the first pair of eyes in a long time who’s peered into him to acknowledge his existence. To stare at him. To see him. He hasn’t communicated in awhile. He can’t remember how long. So, it’s somewhat affirming to have someone stare at him. To see him. “Are the worst.”

He stares out at the fallen rubble before meeting your gaze. There’s a burning light behind your eyes. Something that rivals the force of the sky. “They are.”

“The Gods look down at the people all the same, yet they meddle with their lives and twist them so.” you laugh. “It’s just not fair. Why is it out of my control?”

Dainsleif’s eyes catch the bodies underneath the rubble, crushed fingers grasping for things they’ll never reach. “It’s not fair. You’re right.”

“Hey, you’re traveling too, right? I know you are.” You glance over the fallen wreckage as if that’s proof enough that he’s lost. “I’m a traveler too… I’m looking for my sibling.”

He can hear the yearning in your tone. You have faith unlike him. You still have a chance.

Your voice says you believe that so firmly with all of your heart. Dainsleif glances at the gathered proof there’s nothing left for him at his feet.

“…”

“Come with me.” You finally say. “Travel with me.”

“Why?”

“I’m lonely.” Is your only reply. You don’t look at him. A life-long regret. He’ll never have gotten to known what you were thinking.“You seemed lonely, too.”

Did he?

He hadn’t noticed. He hasn’t seen his own face in a long time. At that time — it felt so simple. There wasn’t truly any deep, meaningful, reason to accept your request. He could have easily parted ways there. What difference would that have made on your journey?

But… perhaps he was lonely. For he had so far to walk. And he had nothing else to do but to live.

“500 mora.”

“Huh?” You squint your eyes somewhat baffled by how quick of a response he shoots ought. “I— that’s too cheap. Why? Is this a weekly payment or something?”

“In a way it is.” He sighs while turning his back and already beginning to walk. “500 mora every week.”

“It should around as much money needed to buy the ingredients for sticky honey roast.”

You give him the stink eye.

But you’re lonely enough to begrudgingly take the mora out into his hands. You make a point to showcase your discontent as you scrounge through your wallet. You don’t have very much money on you at all.

But you pay the fare so you both go on a journey.

People change lives. You’ve changed the impact of his.

Your first stop is Mondstadt. He’s buying the ingredients for tonight’s dinner. He has a bit extra change to spare. Mondstadt’s prices are cheap.

It’ll get harder to save when you reach the other nations. So, it’s better to save up now.

He realizes you’ve escaped his side a little too late. He looks around— when he isn’t looking you’re already a distance away from him. Even though you’re the one who asked him to walk this path with you. You’re always walking ahead or too far behind.

You’re staring at the Mondstadt Fountain. In hindsight. It’s a very pretty fountain. Simple but effective. But you’re staring at the water a bit too closely. He walks up from behind you and stares at his own reflection which looks back at him. You’re rather enamored by your own face.

You both do look strange in comparison to the locals. People have been giving you both odd-stares. He makes a face at the water and tries to smile.

He doesn’t look very accommodating nor welcoming at all. His smile drops rather quickly when it looks strange on his face. Unnatural.

Dainsleif is secretly glad that your eyes are always directed everywhere but him.

Glancing towards you. You don’t look at the water like it’s a reflection of yourself but someone else looking back at you.

You finally notice his staring though it’s far too late. You jump up a little — but you pretend like you weren’t so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed him sneak up on you. Like always. He doesn’t tell you he knows. You’ve fallen into a pattern like that.

“Do you have a coin?” You glance at him and try to change topics quickly while holding out your palm. “Dain.“

“Ah.” He looks at you and blinks as he realizes what’s going through your head. Though, he wonders if it’s something else. You were staring at your own face. “Oh… that is a Mondstadt Custom. Making wishes… I see. Are you curious? Then…”

He takes out the coin. The leftovers. It’s a meaningless gesture. But, you stare at him like it’s what matters most in this world. So he indulges in you.

The borough keeper does not have anything to wish for. He realizes rather quickly. He glances down at the coin in all its glory. And there is nothing in the world he can realistically get that he truly wants.

His hand grows a little shaky at that thought. Nothing to wish for. So he instead directs it towards you and drops it into the palms of your hand like it’s precious.

“You should do it, then.” His voice is impassive as usual. “You’re the one who has a wish. So, why should I?”

Somewhat dumbly you take the coin in your shaky palms as he gives it to you. “Huh? Seriously…?”

“Fine… I guess I will then…”

You think— it doesn’t take that long. The coin hits the water with a somewhat disappointing ‘thump’.

Not nearly as long. You’ve already have your mind up. You glance at the water. “I’ll have to make it come true myself in the end. I’m still going to work as hard.”

“Then, what’s the point of the wish?” Dainsleif asks.

“It’s insurance.” You sigh. “It’s comforting. You seriously have no trace of romance in your heart.”

“What did you wish for?” Dainsleif looks at the coin sunken at the bottom of the fountain. ( It will be gone when he comes back to reflect on the memories. A world which people resort to stealing wish money from wells. )

“If I say it then it won’t come true. You’re meant to keep it a secret, Dain. That’s how wishes work.”

Is that so?

He knows what you wished for. But he doesn’t say it.

Some things are better kept never never said.

He's growing older.

You travel to a Liyuan Village, Quingce. It's the perfect day. You’ve both arrived at perfect timing. They’re holding a small festival to celebrate the living at the time with bright lights and fireworks in the sky. Momentous and bright.

The joy they experience is vibrant. Savory smells wafting through the hair. A memory which will be long-lived in each villager’s mind. In comparison. The both of you stand out. Throughout the laughter, the joy, you both sit there in relative silence alone together. Two unhappy people painted against a happy scene.

The sky being dyed in such unnatural colors reminds him of the day the sky was bathed red. Do you see the same sky as him when you stare up at such flashing lights, too?

You're whispering. Do you expect him not to hear? The sound of the fireworks is loud. Each with a loud snapping pop. He wouldn't expect you to be paying attention to him instead of the loud bursts of flashing lights. So he assumes you’d have the same line of thought. Somehow, Dainsleif’s eyes always find his way to you.

"We don't belong in this world." Are the words that leave your mouth. He doesn't respond. You repeat it quieter. "We don't belong here."

You’re looking at the children who dance among the bright stars together. He notices a pair of children holding the other’s hand tightly.

You’re curled up in fetal position. Your knees pressed against your chest. It looks painful.

l. You stand at a ten foot distance to him.

You don’t say anything else and continue to watch the fireworks. Not once does a smile ever cross your face.

When you walk back to your hotel room your voice is weak and you’re clutching tightly to your own shirt.

“Dain.” You make conversation. “Do you think we could be happy?”

He doesn’t know.

“There’s still a long way ahead. Don’t lose hope.”

“I know I can’t.” You sigh. “I know that.”

“It’s just hard sometimes.” You look outside your fingers brushing against the glass of the window against the painted sky and the people packing up. “They don’t know a thing.”

“It’s just unfair.” You laugh. “Why can’t I live like that?”

“But that’s how it is.”

“…”

There’s a silence which lasts only a little. It seems you don’t wish to continue down this line of thought. You give.

“Guess so.” Your eyes meet his and you smile sheepishly. “I’m glad I know you. I’m not alone.”

But you are. That’s why you asked. Because you felt there was nobody who could understand.

And, perhaps, he still doesn’t know you either. No. He’s sure he doesn’t.

When you bring a topic up. It’s very likely you never bring it up again.

He doesn’t usher it out of you. The next morning you wave the children and all the adults goodbye wishing them happy lives. They’re kind and wish him and you both the very same.

They’re younger than you both yet you’ll both grow to outlive them. You’re fundamentally different. He will never be able to understand them.

Dainsleif presumes that’s the same case with the two of you as well.

In Inazuma you take a quick resting stop before you reach the grand island You plan on camping that night among the dangerous but beautiful land. You seem enraptured that night. You’ve gone into the slow flowing river. It seemed clear. So he hadn’t stopped you from dipping your feet.

You reach your hands towards the bright sky and the stars above.

You’re in a far off place. He wonders if he could reach you if he had actually tried.

He doesn’t bother.

Dainsleif sits there and watches your distant figure watch the stars.

He watches after you. Some days. Just bystander in your life.

You stay like that for awhile before you finally return to him. You’re holding your shoes in your hand— you drop them before awkwardly plopping yourself next to him.

“They told me if I was ever lost. All I needed to do was look up to the stars because we’d be looking up at the same sky.”

"I wonder what they'd think if they saw it. The stars are beautiful here. Even though the sky itself is the cause of all my problems. I still love the stars. This place won’t ruin it for me.”

“Dain, what do you think?”

You’re not really asking him.

“It’s nice.” He responds. “I think they’re beautiful, too.”

You rarely talk about yourself he notices. You rarely think about yourself. About this sibling he doesn’t know. About their interests and likes.

“Do you like it?” He asks gentler than he intends.

“I do. But it hurts. Does that make sense, Dain?”

“It does.” He replies and he hopes that gives you some ounce of peace.

You smile a little. He wishes it could last.

You’re someplace far away. He looks down at you and making a move for the first time he offers you his hand.

You take it and fall asleep against his shoulder.

He clings to your warmth and holds you closely thinking little of it.

When he wakes up you’re already gone.

You revert back to your normal and neither of you bring it up. But even if it’s left unspoken.

It’s already been said.

In Sumeru while exploring the wilderness you’ve sunken to your knees. The sight of something has caught your attention.

It's rare to see you stray from your goal.

You gaze down at the white flowers for a few seconds. Most often your eyes dance around but you keep walking forward. It's very rare that something strikes you enough to linger on. To hold still for just a moment in time.

It's rare that you let anything hold you back. Each nation. You grow a little faster. A little more distant. A little ahead.

You glance up at him wordlessly as you go to kneel to clutch the flower between your palms, it's rare that you do things just like this. Ask him to speak up on the matter and info-dump so you can understand the world better. It's the little conversation you both have.

“Dain, what is this?”

"It's a flower native to Kharenri'ah." His heart winces a little at the word. It appears that the wound has not mended itself. It won't ever. He's made peace with that. He merely wonders when he'll learn to live with that truth. "It's called the Intreyvat. It has 2-weeks before it wilts. It's aligned with elemental energy as for why it glows. Elemental Energy isn't edible nor does it taste very good for those who've tried it. So please do not eat it."

You don't respond. So he continues with other facts assuming you're not satisfied. "It's called the wanderer's flower for it's properties which--"

"I'm not going to eat it, idiot. I'm not insane to eat flowers. You're my emergency food rations." Contradiction. He thinks that cannibalism is more insane than eating flora. But, he chocks it up to either sarcasm or a testament to your oddities. It's likely the former. Your face warmed up. Embarrassed that he’d even imply it. Melanin rushing straight to your face to the tips of your ears. you whisper, hushed, as you cradle the flower delicately in your hands. Like it can hear your argument. It can't. It’s not alive in that sense. a fact he would point out. But he knows it’s not the time for that. He opts for silence as he usually does. "They just grew these back home. My actual home. Before it got destroyed."

You have a deep longing in your eyes. All-consuming devotion. "Some things remain constant through different worlds. There's likely another you somewhere on one of the many worlds that exist."

"I saw these with my sibling when I first arrived at Teyvat. The flower were the first thing we saw. A field of them." you churn out. your grip on the flower grows tighter. it's petals crush beneath your fingers at how tight you hold it. you don't seem to notice. " All things meet similar fates. So, of course these flowers were meant to fade away in this world too."

"It’s okay. These aren’t actually my homeland’s flowers. It’s not mine.” You laugh as you let go of the flower. leaving the crushed white petals lay dirtily discarded on the floor. "It was never mine. But the sight of it regardless bought me joy."

It's left in the dirt. You stand on wobbly knees. He thinks to mention it but you have enough to worry about already.

Dainsleif knows it’s better not to linger as well. So he chases after you. At some point it changed from him walking meaninglessly.

He drifts after your footsteps. Behind you.

You’re always changing. Slowly, bit by bit, the person he met so long ago becomes a stranger distant in his mind. The current you is just as much of a puzzle.

Time is passing. He doesn’t keep track of how many days that have gone by. Some days blur.

When you’re at Fontaine you finally let yourself break.

It would explain why you finally go mad. The process of traveling place to place without ever stopping.

It must have been draining.

His hand curls around your face as you lay at your camp. You’re both doing an odd-job for money to travel so often from place to place.

You’ve both finished killing another hilichurl camp which stood in the way. Wiping the splattered blood from your cheek. Too little distance but you don’t seem to mind how close he is. “Is it yours or theirs?”

You don’t answer. Which does nothing to ease his worries. He goes to wipe the rest of the blood to see if you have any injuries. This isn’t like either of you. To dote on another like this. These moments are sparse few and far between in your own words until you’re at a certain breaking point — nothing more than travel companions until you need someone to catch you before you fall. That’s why you called for him.

Because you were alone. Because he was alone.

It’s transactional.

It should be, anyway. You tremble and bite your lip hard enough that it bleeds. What you have feels heavier than that.

“I don’t want to ever kill another hilichurl again.”

Ah.

“We’ll never have to kill another one again.” He tries to soothe you. “We can stop taking requests like this.”

It must be bad. You’re holding still. Barely reacting to the feather-light touch. He squeezes your face.

You react at that. Your eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He lets go once he sees that’s enough to rouse you out of your own head.

“We should take a break.” He finally says. “We haven’t had one in awhile-“

“I don’t want to stop.” You reply back. “It gets worse when we stop.”

You‘ve been tired for a long time.

Wiping the rest of the blood on his cape. He doesn’t struggle. But that doesn’t mean he’s entirely indifferent to the process. But he never struggles against you. So he doesn’t even budge. He just looks at you with that prey animal stare reserved for only you. “Ah.”

“My cape.” He holds the tassel and flops it around. As subdued and subpar as it is. “Isn’t a napkin.”

“We’re both dirty, now.” That brings an odd joy he’ll have to worry about later because those words are not happy. They’re sad. You should both be clean. But, there’s a certain joy to sharing your lows. You ramble as you use it to wipe your tears away as well. “Now we both need showers and…”

“…”

“Dain.” You ask quietly. “Why do you stay with me?”

Oh.

You’re not yourself. You’ll regret this conversation and feel nothing but regret about it later. He comforts you now and answers regardless because he would regret leaving you unanswered now even more.

“I care about you even if it doesn’t seem that way at times.”

You stare at him like his words are hard to believe. Your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Is it so hard to believe he cares after you’ve spent so long together? He can see the thoughts racing behind your eyes. But, what you settle on is— “You’re so stupid.”

You don’t seem entirely unhappy with his answer despite the words that you say considering you’re laughing. It’s an oddly sad laugh. A laugh which threatens on a sob.

He tries to ignore the pink color that rises to his cheeks.

“So stupid.” You cry a little harder and hug him. He caresses you and lets you cry into his chest.

He knows you wish someone else could hold you.

It isn’t the same nor will it ever live up to the real thing. But you always pretend.

You both never kill a Hilichurl again.

He does his best to avoid them on the roads. Whenever you see one a deep sadness falls over you. So he does his best to stifle that grief and ease that burden by avoiding every chance he has.

You haven’t asked as much questions lately since arriving at Natlan. You’ve quit speaking entirely at some points in time. Some days he wonders if you’ve forgotten to speak at all.

The light behind your eyes is a distant memory.

“Dain?”

“Why do you travel at all?”

He stares at you through a mouthful of mushroom-chicken skewers that he’s cooked. They’re burnt. He’s not very good of a cook.

You’ve never asked before. You’ve asked all sorts of questions. But never that.

“It was sort of implied at the fountain that you didn’t know… I remembered and got curious… so I asked.l

“Did you figure it out, Dain?”

…

Maybe he did.

He thinks about keeping it to himself. Holding on to that answer just this once. You’ve done the same to him.

But maybe it’s something worth saying.

No, maybe it’s something…

He just wants to admit. To say out loud. Just once.

Even though he knows you know.

“I want to see your journey to its end.”

You instantaneously groan like he’s said something embarrassing.

“I’d thought you’d answer that.” You pout with crossed arms. “When did you grow so obsessed with me?”

He doesn’t know himself. He doesn’t know why or how. He doesn’t know if he should.

“You should live for yourself.” Hypocrite. “Beyond Khaenri'ah and beyond me.”

Dainsleif sighs and…

He continues letting his judgement not get the better of him.

“I really like you.”

Time stops.

He’s a little surprised the words actually came out of his mouth. But they did.

He can’t take it back now that it’s been said. That’s how it works.

“Huh?”

He could pretend that his words had a different meaning. He could create some lie. And you would just eat it up.

But he chooses not to. Why is that?

“I like you. That’s why I wish to see it through with you. I wish to see you happy. Typically. You wish to be with the people you like happy.” He repeats. Louder. So you can’t misinterpret it or pretend you’ve heard him wrong, He chews on the mushroom skewer. Feeling his face heat up. Some days. He wished his mask covered the entirety of his face. It feels like he’s gone as crimson as the moon.

He feigns how okay he is with these words leaving his mouth. Pretends like he isn’t pouring a deep part of himself out to you. “Don’t mind where. I just wish to be by your side.”

“You’ve been my reason for awhile now.“

And he continues. A little too much. He realizes. He stops and looks at you to use as measure for how much he’s talked.

Quite a lot. You stare at him in abject horror.

“I— don’t repeat it!” You yell and look around like somebody can hear you both. There’s nobody for miles. In the end. It’s always you both alone. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You asked.” Dainsleif points out and bites down on the shame. “I answered.”

“..-!?”

“It wouldn’t work.” You stumble. “You and me—“

“It doesn’t have to be as lovers. My… current goal… the… reason I’m traveling with you… what I want most is just… to see you be okay.“

“Your terminology was confusing! It’s not my fault—“

“But if you want to entertain the idea… of… us being partners and such. I wouldn’t mind traveling with you. To see other worlds. If you could bring me.” He can’t bear to look at you. “Though, I have a task as a Borough Keeper… I…”

“You wish for me to live for myself. Is that not proof I am? Willing to find a reason to live past that role?”

“T-Travel with me…” the room grows hotter. “Wait, that’s not the point!”

“It still doesn’t work!” You yelp. “Just…”

“…”

“Maybe at the end of the road when I reunite with my...” You mumble. “I… no…”

“No… I don’t think… you… we should.”

…

“We shouldn’t.”

You don’t explain why.

Dainsleif flushes… and looks away. Understanding. He tries to be understanding.

Even if he’s not very good at it. Understanding other people. He tries to emphasize and nods his head.

“I understand… I told you. I just… wish for your happiness.”

“You shouldn’t.“

…

And you don’t elaborate. You never really do.

He doesn’t understand how bad it gets until it’s too late.

Because you were right.

Thinking about it now, it was an omen, a warning more than anything. You likely should have thrown him loose a long time ago.

Did you not think about that? Or was it now when everything’s finally proved that this was where your path must lead? Were you hoping that there was another option?

Was this your last choice?

Well, it’s already history. You must have known that. That’s why you were so insistent on it. To limit the heart-ache. The tragedy. If you held on even tighter. Then the pain of separation would hurt even more.

You should have never offered your hand to him at all then. But it was this journey it was knowing which made you into this, wasn’t it?

He was there to witness your unraveling. And he didn’t do a thing to stop it. He allowed it.

The sword has pierced through his stomach and severed through. He’ll survive. That’s what he was cursed to do. To eternally live and grieve until there was nothing left to lose. You know that. You aren’t actually trying to kill him. You’re sparing him and leaving him to live with this loss. And that’s even more painful.

There’s no light in your eyes. You’ve chosen the road ahead. It’s a road you cannot travel back from. You will destroy everything. And you will repeat the endless cycle of bloodshed. And then you will most likely die against the weight of the heavenly principles.

This is the second time his reason for living was entirely stolen. How fun. How grand. How sick. But he should have known, too. Even if you’re immortal as well—

The things he loved were bound to get torn from him. His life will forever be a game of give and take.

“There’s nothing else.” You glance out into the darkness. “For me to see. I’ve seen it all. And it’s driven me mad.”

“I understand now. You don’t have to follow me anymore. You’ve done your job of seeing me through to the end. And I thank you for that. You’ve been a good guide. I’ve cherished this time together.”

Like this isn’t it. As if you aren’t severing your paths entirely. You dig the sword deeply into his stomach like you’re cutting whatever has connected you both all this time to each other.

But it did matter. Everything mattered. It mattered so much to the point where you’ve come down to this. He holds the sword and tries to push it out.

You’ve detached. When was it when you pulled yourself away from him entirely? He never noticed the gap between you had grown as deep as the abyss.

“Dain.”

“You’re not joining me are you?”

“I’m not.” He responds from the floor. He chokes on his own blood. It isn’t the first. Nor will it be the last time. He can see his future from here. Because life refuses to let him live languid life. He could never agree with the tragedy you intend to cause. The world you wish to ruin— still belongs to him. “You’re right. I can’t agree. I could never agree.”

And more than that, you’re likening yourself to a monster. This path. Paved in blood. If you walk it you will be no better than them. You’re making a mistake. You’re so much more than this. And he knows. Because he was there for you for so long.

“If this is the path you plan to take. I will oppose for eternity.” He spits.

For some reason that gets you to share with him a rare smile.

The way you smile at him then still haunts his dreams.

“I knew you could do it.”

It is your hands which he trusted so which push him and led to his fall. The hands which he had done his best to have lovingly hold. It is his first betrayal.

And yet he still tries to have faith.

Your paths diverge…

But regardless of that.

You’re not out of reach.

He can still save you he thinks with grasping hands.

Is this how you’ve felt all this time? With a flickering inch of hope? Given so little yet still believing in that faint chance of reunion?

He’ll force your paths back together himself.

Mondstadt.

He’s begun to try to count the time.

He just measures it against the day which took everything.

500 years.

He's come here before. The bar called Dawn Winery’s-- it's peaceful in comparison to the other worlds. Though so dreadfully close to Celestia. You’re close. He knows you are. Thus why he’s here to begin with.

The bartender has changed again since he was last here. He’s witnessed many faces since that time so long ago. He almost got mistaken. It seems it’s the previous incarnation’s son? He wears his father's skin, has his bright crimson hair, the only thing lacking is the life in his eyes. He must not be have taken the loss well.

Dainsleif's taste buds have faded with time. But the wine goes down as easily as he remembers. He relies on his sight to enjoy it. It’s changed over the years. The bottle itself. The liquid’s color isn’t as he remembers and it never is the same—

Footsteps.

A familiar voice.

He can feel time pause.

“Hi… I’m an adventurer from the adventure’s guild!”

He doesn’t respond.

The voice is insistent despite him clearly ignoring them.

“How do you do… I’m an honorary member of the Knights of Favonius!”

If he turns around, if he wants so deeply, then it feels as if it’ll be even farther. If the very act of wanting will make it so Celestia tears it away from him.

But the voice continues. A different one. There’s another. There’s two?

“Wow… he has no intention of paying us any mind.”

“So… uh… I’m a traveler.”

Two people, one pair of footsteps. This isn’t an ordinary person.

…

Dainsleif doesn’t look back but he repeats a question. A question from a long time ago.

“A traveler you say. Why do you travel?”

He can feel the awkward smile tugging on the other party’s lips. There’s a light. Unending. Unendurable.

“Well… looking for my lost relative… could it be possible that you’ve seen them?”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #🗑️ trash writes #x reader #finally the holy trinity is completed #i’m sorry this is all based on the line where he talks about saving #dainsleif canonically goes ‘i can fix them’. he can’t. 😭😭😭#technically can be read as Dain Aether or Dain lumi #but they’re self inserts for a reason… let me project #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader

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hotreadingwitch · 11 months ago

Text

MADE TO LIE - the gallery

BUCKY

“Yes, we went,” Bucky heard Y/n’s voice echoing in the bathroom as she attempted to talk to Natasha and Wanda on the phone quietly, the one-sided conversation slowly getting louder and louder, “No we didn’t. Do I what? Wanda calm down—Maybe…but I’d never admit it to him…”

“Y/n, you know I can hear every word you’re saying right?” Bucky called out from where he sat on their bed, trying, but failing really, to relax before they had to leave.

“I’ve got to go” he heard her whisper hastily into the phone, “Yes, yes I’ll talk to you later”

The door to the bathroom slid open revealing Y/n in a fluffy white robe with the golden emblem of the hotel on it. Bucky raised an eyebrow at her.

“You really heard everything?” she said sheepishly, bowing her head.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you no?”

“Probably not”

“Then yes”

Y/n ran a hand through her hair. The silence grew.

“You’re close with them huh? Natasha and Wanda?”

“Yeah, I am” Y/n seemed to relax at this, “I love them, they’re like sisters to me”

“Well, I’m glad you have them. I’m learning it’s important to have people you love around you”

“You’ve got Steve and Beatka” she smiled before a short giggle slipped out, “And Sam of course”

“Steve and Beatka, yes. Sam, no.”

“C’mon, you love him really”

He shook his head, suppressing a laugh, “I tolerate him, that’s more what it is”

“Sure, that’s it” Y/n chuckled lightly, “Whatever helps you sleep at night”

“By the way” he started, “We should probably get going soon”

“Okay let me just slip my dress on” She went back into the bathroom, closing the door a crack as she changed.

In a flash Y/n was back out in the bedroom, looking even more stunning than before, if that was even possible, a waft of sensual perfume overwhelming Bucky’s senses. His thoughts raced as he took in her sparkling black mini dress that was embroidered with intricate designs of silver and gold and the matching dangling earrings she wore that were so long they just barely touched her shoulders. The memory of her warm neck beneath his lips practically made him shudder.

“Bucky?” her voice brought him back to Earth, “Are you alright…?”

He hadn’t realized how heavily he was breathing, “Yeah. Fine.” This woman is going to be the death of me.

He stood up from the bed, already dressed in his suit and tie, trying as subtly as possible to re-adjust himself. Thankfully, if she noticed she didn’t say anything.

“Let’s go”

Y/N

The Guggenheim towered over them as they walked through the glass doors and into the gallery. Following the slow trickle of other black-tie-dressed guests, they made it to the private event space that was being rented for the night’s social event. Holding out his hand for her to take, which she quickly did, Y/n gazed around the room, immediately searching for the Cranes. She could sense Bucky doing the same.

“Something’s wrong…” Y/n said quietly as she took a flute of champagne from a suited server passing by, blending in with the other high-society attendees.

“I know” he affirmed, then playfully taking the lone glass from her and taking a sip, before getting serious, “They aren’t here…yet”

Y/n opened her mouth to speak into the headpiece before remembering she wasn’t connected to the other Avengers via earpiece or cameras tonight. Tony had thought it was casual enough, safe enough, that they wouldn’t need the team’s help, especially since they had quote-unquote “mostly proved their romance already.”

“Let’s mingle then, we should blend in at least” Y/n suggested, tugging on the crook of Bucky’s arm.

From that moment, they spent the next hour at least chatting with philanthropists and socialites, many of whom it seemed rivalled Bucky in their old age, though none looked quite like him, of course.

“Mrs.Henderson,” Y/n greeted with a genuine smile. Betty was one of the few in this crowd that Y/n actually knew from her own, more subtle work with certain charities. After escaping her father, escaping her past life, she was committed to providing as much aid as she could to those who were living in difficult situations, like she had, who needed help, resources, anything. She even donated to other causes as well, finding that the more she helped others, the more her own guilt eased. The truth was Y/n had been a criminal, whether she had liked it or not was another story, trained as a child to be a weapon for her father to exploit. Elena likely would’ve been the same if…Well, Y/n wouldn’t follow that thought, not tonight.

“You must be Y/n’s new partner, James is it?”

“That’s right ma’am”

Betty beamed, tilting her head conspiratorially toward Y/n, “And polite too, do tell Y/n, where did you find a gentleman like him?”

“Oh you know Betty, Stark’s more of a matchmaker than people give him credit for…it might even be his greatest talent,” this time she leaned in with humour dancing in her eyes, “But don’t tell him I said that”

She chuckled politely into her dainty hand, the diamond bracelet on her wrist likely more money than some of the priceless art in the gallery. With a huff she clutched at her chest, concern instantly taking over her features.

“Mrs.Henderson? Are you alright?” Bucky asked, with a small cough.

Y/n’s gaze flitted to him, noticing unnatural beads of sweat covering his forehead before looking back to Betty and noticing her paling face. Her eyes flicked back to Bucky just as they both said out loud,

“The champagne”

Shit.

People around them started to go down, scarily fast. One minute they were all standing, making polite chit-chat, the next they were all bodies covering the marble floor. Bucky stumbled beside her, uncharacteristically weak. Y/n kept him upright, using practically all her strength to do so, the super soldier serum being the only reason he wasn’t passed out like the rest of the guests.

“James” a sinister voice greeted, echoing across the piles of unconscious bodies, “Y/n”

Her gaze snapped to the podium at the front of the grand room where two figures had suddenly appeared. A red-headed man and woman, twins, assessed the situation with practically evil smiles. They were eerily calm.

“All this to get me back?” Bucky huffed, his tone dangerous and sarcastic yet loud in the quiet room.

“You are our strongest soldier, Barnes” the woman called out, her voice crisp, “you know we are who you belong with not these…Avengers”

“Was” Y/n corrected, a fierce look in her eyes.

Their gazes flicked to her as if they were just now noticing her presence, “Excuse me?”

“He was your strongest soldier, but he sure as hell isn’t now—you’re never getting him back again” she spat out.

The Cranes laughed cruelly. The woman then stepped forward, walking toward Y/n and Bucky from where she was in the large space.

“Y/n Y/l/n…James’ new ‘lover,’ tell me, what are you going to do about it?” she sneered, taunting her, “You’re no one, you don’t even deserve to be an Avenger. Why? Because you’re a fucking traitor. You betrayed your own family when family is everything we have. I hate to think what you’ll do to your team or when you’ll eventually abandon poor Buckyhere”

Bucky growled next to her, standing to his full height, despite the temporary poison seeping through his veins.

“Don’t you fucking dare” he emphasized the word, “Talk to her like that again if you value your life”

“And what are you going to do about it?” the man called out with a laugh.

“I don’t know Angelo…maybe shoot you again” Bucky taunted, “How’d that gunshot to the chest heal?”

Angelo growled in response.

“Very funny…” a cold voice boomed through the space, immediately sending a chill down Y/n’s spine.

Her head snapped in the direction of the voice only to find a gun pointed right at her.

requested account tags: cjand10 identity2212 bucky-jbb-sunshine unaxv hnnhbananananana @differenttyphoonwerewolf

#fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n

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omen-of-ice · 11 months ago

Note

ro's reaction to a clingy mc who's love language is physical touch plss

Daeron: Isn’t truly used to physical touch that’s not also associated with battle or some form of sparring— barring the brief side hugs that Shanaera gives him— it’d be a completely new experience. He’d definitely be confused at first, would definitely be as stiff as a board, and he’d absolutely think you were trying to kill him the first time you went in for one. However, as he slowly gets used to your touches, to the way you melt into his arms, he’d slowly begin to soften, melting into your arms just as much in return, and he’d start to initiate them (hugs and physical affection) a lot more because it’s become something that soothes him; after a lifetime of war, you’ve become his shelter.

Larak: He’d absolutely adore it. Physical touch is a big thing for his people— albeit it’s typically to do with death or maiming. Would hold you like the most precious of treasures in return, wanting to make sure he doesn’t squeeze you too tight. Larak would definitely begin to expect hugs as a greeting from then on (once you get close enough to him). Becoming completely sulky if you were to forget as it’d quite the slight against his person.

Calypso: She’s quite the affectionate individual as it stands— as boundaries are a bit different where she’s from. So, you may have to discuss with her what’s okay to do and what’s less than okay… Would definitely be all for hugs and being close to you. Having you nearby brings a light to her life that the sun could never hope to rival. If you’d be willing, you’d definitely have a doting siren clinging to your arm for a good majority of the day.

Shanaera: She’s not big on physical affection or intimacy when it comes to those sort of things— it’s not how she was raised and it’s definitely not something she’d easily accept back into her life after going so long without it. She’d allow the occasional hug, especially if you were upset, but it’d more often than not be something you’d initiate. Of course, because of how much she adores you, she’ll learn to live with your need for hugs and the like— it’s not her cup of tea, but making you happy absolutely is… So it’s a trade she’s willing to make.

Fáelán: Is fairly clingy themself. So if your MC was also like that? Match made in Heaven, I’d say. Would love to give you hugs and whatever else you may want without a second thought— and they’d absolutely adore it if you wished to spend time with them. As being near you has always been one of their favorite things within their life— it makes them so happy that you feel the same.

Valerian: Likes to have you by their side regardless… The fact that you’re clingy and like to touch them? Perfect. Wouldn’t complain in the slightest because that means they can keep an eye on you and won’t have to worry about what you could possibly be getting up to. May not initiate hugs that often, they’d still dote on you in their own way and would ensure that you understand how much they treasure you. They’re a dragon after all, and you’re the most priceless gem they’ve ever seen.

#omen of ice #asks #scenario asks #ro: daeron #ro: larak #ro: calypso #ro: shanaera #ro: fáelán #ro: valerian

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nicksbestie · 7 months ago

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the bratzfornick 141 writing challenge

hi everyone! we’ve been looking for new fics to read and so many of you are so talented, so what better way to have new reading material than hosting a little challenge to fuel our delusions 😋

here are the basics for the challenge: pick 1 character, pick 4 story elements, and create 1 fic! more details below!!

the following rules are things you must follow. otherwise, you will be eliminated from this challenge.

no being rude or hateful to other creators. this includes us, as well as others participating in the challenge.

no copying or plagiarizing ANY work. this includes challenge submissions as well as other stories that have been posted to tumblr/wattpad/etc. if you choose to use one of your works from another platform, please make sure that you have proof it is your own work

no submissions that revolve around anything weird or illegal (abuse, incest, illegal age gaps, highly graphic mental illness, hard drugs, age play, homo/transphobia/racism/abelism/etc, bathroom play, etc)

5k max word limit. in order for us to be able to thoroughly read all of your submissions, please keep your word count to 5k or less and use paragraph breaks!

when you post your fic, please tag @bratzforchris and @nicksbestie and use the tag #bratzfornick’s 141 writing challenge

characters (pick 1)

matt sturniolo

chris sturniolo

nick sturniolo

nathan doe

story elements (pick any 4): you may mix and match these to your liking. you are not required to do one from all four categories (for example: two locations, one trope, one genre OR two genres, two tropes, etc)

GENRES:

Fluff

Smut

Angst

Age regression

TROPES:

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

Little x caregiver

Friends with benefits

Chronically ill x healthy

Mafia x goody two shoes

Academic rivals

Lovers to strangers

Nurse x doctor coworker

Fake dating

Grumpy x sunshine

Royalty x bodyguard

Major character death

Angel x demon

Singer/band member x fan

Arranged marriage

Locations/Settings:

Alternate universe (AU)

College/university

Concert

Outskirt small town

Big city

The forest/woods

Home

Library/bookstore

Vacation

Haunted/abandoned house

Office

Hospital

Plot Ideas:

Accidental confession (it slips out when drunk, caught in the heat of the moment, etc)

Revenge (fake dating, sleeping with an ex, etc)

Getting used to a new diagnosis/disability (a doctor who is so used to coaching patients through their new diagnosis that they struggle with theirs, getting used to new dynamics with a partner)

Forced proximity (one bed, locked in a room, etc)

Redemption arc

Taking care of each other (cleaning wounds, cooking, holding the trash can while they’re being sick)

Hiding a big secret

Fight that turns sexy

Language barrier (a Southern partner not understanding Boston slang, an actual language barrier, etc)

Chance encounter

Caught in the rain

Dare

create 1 fic: please follow the rules, characters, and story elements listed above! as stated before, you do not have to pick from all four story categories, just four total. write as many fics as you’d like for this challenge.

don’t forget to tag BOTH of us: @bratzforchris and @nicksbestie and use the #bratzfornick’s 141 writing challenge in your submission!

Submissions close May 15th, 2024! Most importantly, have fun! No actual monetary or material prizes will be given out for this challenge→it’s all meant to be fun and creative. Good luck and have fun! We can’t wait to see what you come up with!

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britishassistant · 1 year ago

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Considerations on Remodeling a Wizard’s Tower

Gale Dekarios would not consider himself an inexperienced man by any means.

He was a wizarding prodigy, able to stun his elders and betters with his knowledge of the Weave. He was Mystra’s lover, diligently taught by her in all forms of magic and pleasure there were to be had. He was carrier of the Orb of Karsus, which ensured he knew the pain of loss, the terror of death, the price of his folly more intimately than any teacher should. He was Tara’s friend, and by this point a minor expert on the care and keeping of tressym.

So no, Gale of Waterdeep would not ever deign to call himself inexperienced. Not with all that went on in the thirty four years he had under his belt!

Yet, for all this knowledge and experience, Gale never quite realized that he’d truly never had friends who weren’t tressym before.

They’re emptying the Last Light tavern of what little alcohol it has left, getting progressively drunker on a mixture of spirits and the rush of victory.

Lae’zel’s remedy for Shadowheart’s crisis of faith was apparently by challenging her to a drinking competition, one that the rest of their motley crew and the few patrons left at the bar quickly got involved in. Gale himself has gracefully bowed out, feeling himself dancing on the edge between pleasantly squiffy and absolutely wankered.

Shadowheart is doing her level best to match Lae’zel cup for cup next to him, red-rimmed eyes on her rival/frenemy/whatever-label-people-are-using-these-days. Lae’zel is actually smirking back as she teeters slightly in place, the same one she wears when she’s fighting some strong opponent.

Gale sets his head on his hands and lets himself grin as he stares.

Shadowheart deserved a well-earned break after all she’s been through. And while Gale would normally prescribe a tenday of good food, good wine, and good company, he finds himself wondering what sort of haven he’d create for her if they were back in Waterdeep.

Nothing explicitly religious, mind you, no need to upset the poor woman more than she already had been. Soft furnishings dyed in indigo and purple and lavender, in a nod to her excellent taste in color, were a must. Rows of bookshelves, stretching to the ceiling and filled to the brim, in a nod to her terrible taste in fiction, were also important. A canopy bed covered with gauzy silks. A vanity, perhaps. And all in some sort of dark wood, like the end tables. Scattered tastefully throughout the room and large enough that any one could become easily an alter to some form of deity if one so chose, but also nondenominational enough that they didn’t need to be! Sometimes an end table was just a good place to set things down. Shadowheart seemed like she’d appreciate those.

It’d also be good to have somewhere to put all the night orchids, in fine vases to make her smile like when they passed that field—except what if they wilted? Small pots of them instead then, perhaps built into the wall as scones or enchanted to look like vases? And surely it wasn’t beyond Gale to work out how to get the soil to water itself somehow. Something to think about.

Lae’zel, on the other hand, would hardly be so taken with flowers. No, the trick with her room would be to work out how to recreate an environment she could relax in, truly relax. There’s no place like home after all, so how could Gale bring a little bit of crèche K’llir to the material plane? Crafting elements from the astral plane is child’s play for him, but perhaps drawing some elements from that crèche they visited would be viable? Like as not he’ll need to ask her for the specifics, but a small part of him is stomping its feet that that will ruin the surprise.

A training ground would be hard to go wrong with, though. Lae’zel prides herself on keeping her skills sharp, and far from just providing a well-maintained, well-stocked arena, Gale can certainly give her something a little more sophisticated. Moving suits of armor or magic constructs for opponents, all tweaked slightly so they can provide her with a variety of challenges.

His eyes slide over to Wyll, who has been gamely trying to keep up with the amount of alcohol the two women and Astarion are putting away. It’s clearly having less of an effect on the vampire than it is on the man, given Astarion’s teasing has only gotten more verbose while Wyll has resorted to a graceful (and succinct) middle finger.

Wyll would also enjoy a training ground, he knows. Something to keep his skills sharp, but perhaps more styled after the forests and caves of the Sword Coast, the biomes he’s used to hunting in. But for his personal quarters, Gale’s thinking something a little more civilized—he’s noticed the way Wyll rubs his lower back after sleeping rough. Still themed after his tastes, his experiences on the frontier, but all the necessary creature comforts. A fine four poster in deep brown oak. A full carafe of port. Comfortable chairs that could be sunk into for a quiet night by the fire.

A large tub would certainly help ease any aches and pains reaped from Wyll’s constant heroics. Porcelain, of course, surrounded by all the bath salts and oils he could wish to use. Gale’s an old hat now at ensuring a tub like that fills itself with water when needed that always feels—just—right.

By contrast, he thinks Astarion would quite like a conservatory. Somewhere he can warm himself in the sun for hours like he used to up above, lounging on one particular rock as he sewed or read or sharpened his daggers. Yes, yes, a bright conservatory filled with the finest pillows and furnishings Astarion deserved to lounge on, all the indulgence and luxury he projects so effortlessly but hasn’t had the chance to enjoy. Squat bookshelves that don’t impede the sun’s light. A fully stocked liquor cabinet set up in an armoire. A small door off to some equally extravagant sleeping quarters in one corner.

And if he loses his immunity to the sun with the tadpole, well. Gale wasn’t the finest wizard in Waterdeep for nothing. If devils could create the Companion to orbit Elturel, who is to say that Gale could not create something similar yet safer so Astarion could enjoy its warmth in peace?

Speaking of, his eyes turn to the two tieflings of the group. Karlach has one arm slung around Astarion’s shoulders and appears to be egging Yuu across the table into singing some kind of raunchy drinking song. Yuu, in the spirit of contrariness and probably more alcohol than they can handle, has instead begun to croon a low, soft melody, practically a lullaby.

They would probably love a music room, he reflects, something acoustically-inclined to give them the space to practice all those instruments they’ve been accumulating, encourage them to raise their voice in song like they so rarely do. A large, airy chamber would be best to help them transmit the Weave into melody like they’ve been learning to. Cupboards stocked full of resins and other such things they may need to clean and maintain the tools of their trade. Perhaps an inviting seating area, to host whatever teachers they might need to finish their studies and be appointed an official Bard of the College of Lore.

The desk, of course, would be essential. Filled with drawers, quills, inkwells and charcoal, and of course the many, many reams of blank parchment that their constant scribbling on the road suggested were more a necessity than a luxury. He’d probably need to invent a new charm just to keep them even halfway stocked.

Karlach, on the other hand, seemed like she would be happier with more rustic surroundings than the others. Not that she didn’t deserve to be showered in luxury like all the others, but from what Gale had seen it didn’t seem to interest her that much—as evidenced by her continual championing the merits of a good beer over more expensive spirits. Simple but comfortable, that’s the name of the game. A bed that looked like it could be found in a tavern but would be the rival of any noble’s feather bed. Overstuffed armchairs to sink into. Wide windows so she could gaze over the landscape. Even a few barrels of her favorite tipple to tap into if she felt like it.

Interesting textures, that would be the pièce de résistance for Karlach’s room. Fascinating tactility to skim her fingers over, trace the grooves of, dig her nails into, even pick at. If he has to make the entire affair fireproof, then so be it. It’s hardly a chore if it makes her happy.

“What are you grinning at?”

Gale blinks back into himself to see Astarion raising an arch eyebrow.

He smiles wider, letting the beer buzzing through his system warm his cheeks. “Nothing, nothing, really. Just.”

He glances around at everyone again.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart attempting to carry on a highly slurred argument. Karlach is lazily conducting Yuu’s soft “but just tonight, maybe I’ll rest in peace~” with her empty tankard. Wyll has taken the opportunity to set his head on the table and begun listing gently into Shadowheart’s side.

His cheeks almost hurt as he meets Astarion’s gaze again. “Enjoying the view.”

Astarion takes him in with a considering tilt of the head.

“Darling, you’re sozzled.”

Gale throws back his head and laughs. “Ha! Well. Aren’t we all?”

“Hm.” Astarion eyes where Lae’zel has begun to murmur into his collarbone. Wyll’s feet have found their way into his lap, and the vampire is much less enchanted with the Blade of Frontier’s boots. “Well! I’m sure I can prevail upon you to use that lovely, powerful magic of yours to help corral all these lightweights to bed, no?”

Gale hums. He’s warm and comfortable, Shadowheart is nuzzling into his side, and Wyll’s head is pillowed on her lap.

“Gale?”

Yuu mumbles nonsense as they curl into him, nestling under Gale’s chin as they trail off into incoherence. They let out a little huff as Shadowheart slips and starts using their back as a headrest but settle within a moment.

“Gale.”

Karlach has less begun to lean on Astarion than slump on him, her head pillowed on his curls. Her eyes are shut, and her breathing is deepening in a way that promises snores.

“Gale. Do not leave me like this.” Astarion orders with what might be a smidge of desperation.

Gale leans back against the wall, exhaling and closing his eyes.

“Gale!”

His tower could use some remodeling, he reflects as he rearranges Yuu so they’re not stabbing him in the throat with their horns.

Places to keep his people near and dear to him.

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scilessweetheart · 1 year ago

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quotes from my senior year lit class’s modern adaptation of hamlet (titled “keeping up with hamlet”) that only get funnier the longer they sit in my brain

“how are you doing?” “oh, you know. same soup, just reheated, baby!” - hamlet, pulling a monster energy drink out of an industrial sized fridge

“polonius! why’d you stand under my copy of the atlantic?” -hamlet, after beating him to death

*snorts a line of coke and then introduces herself* - gertrude

*tagline in asides is “feels super awkward”* - hortatio

“listen to me. hamlet’s a douchebag!” - laertes

*played by a 6 foot man with a thot knot and a scrunchie* - ophelia

“he gave me his favorite monster tab necklace! plus, he’s an aries and i’m a libra. we’re a match. i even checked his natal chart.” - ophelia

“women! they’re so caught up in things. they don’t even know about the stock market. it just… it saddens me.” - polonius

*reading texts from hamlet to ophelia* “‘ophelia. i love you. i dream of smelling your skin when you sleep. if you don’t love me i will kill myself.’ you know. some real criminal minds shit.” - polonius

“life’s a prison and you’re my cell mate, guildencrantz!” - hamlet

“hey hamlet, what are you doing?” “watching the… moving pictures. have you ever seen one?” “…. you mean a movie? the tvs not even on.” - polonius and hamlet

“ophelia! you stay here and read this fanfiction. he’ll think you’re all alone.” - gertrude

*hamlet starts his famous monologue* “not this emo shit again” - polonius

“please just take your monster tab necklace back… it’s sticky.” - ophelia

“hah! that stain on the couch looks like a camel.” - hamlet

“i’m actually sending hamlet to [rival school] to be put to death. that way he’ll stop being such a little dickhead.” - claudius

“look at these two men! this is claudius and this is your husband!” *holds up a picture of handsome squidward and willy shakes* - hamlet

“great i’m going to have to kill you. this is my mob, by the way.” - laertes

“here lies the poor, dead, super dead, ophelia.” “babe! no! babe! aw fuck, the fair ophelia!” - hamlet at the funeral

“funeral costs are so expensive. *to the camera guy* how much are the royalties on this?” - horatio

#the target audience for this is so small and yet i couldn’t help myself #hamlet #i was funnier at 17 than i will ever be #also i played laertes in case you were wondering

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dark-elf-writes · 6 months ago

Note

I think Hibari should be Tsuna’s first friends (besides Uno, but they’re more family anyway)

I want little Tsuna seeing the way people cringe away from Hibari and not getting it, he’s just trying to protect people, so he asks his mama for help and the two make a small yellow bird plushie which Tsuna give to him in thanks for protecting everyone

(Hibari obviously comes to the conclusion that the little animal is his now and still has the wonky, misshapen bird to this day)

Hibari is also incredibly upset that he wasn’t asked to be Tsuna’s fake boyfriend, and it’s the only thing he will ever agree with Mukuro about.

Still he is glad, in his own way, that the little animal at carnivore at his side even if it isn’t him. That gladness translates into him challenging Byakuran to a fight whenever he sees him but they are shockingly well matched and soon become sparing partners rather than weird rivals fighting to the death eight times a week.

#the elf talks #katekyo hitman reborn #fake dating au

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reds-skull · 11 months ago

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Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

So I use a text-to-speech site to let me spot mistakes more easily (when the robot actually says it, I find it way easier), and that leads to this robot lady saying "fuck" in the calmest way possible.

For this chapter, it decided 'Phil.' stands for 'Philosophy'. So Graves' full name is now "Philosophy Graves". Almost died laughing.

Anyways...

The following day brought a lot of meetings with it. They would need extensive planning for their upcoming mission, if they want to catch what they dubbed ‘The PMC Revenant’.

Ghost has been on edge the entire day. Something about Graves has been pissing him off (well, something besides his personality and entire existence). The American has been avoiding everyone since his little chat with Shepherd, and Ghost doesn’t trust either of them not to plan anything behind their backs.

He knows, given the choice between glory and power, and saving lives, the Americans would go for the former every single time.

In that, they’re not so different from the enemies Ghost erases for them.

The sun is setting, and the Vaquero base is winding down for the day. The bright yellows and oranges remind him of the second thing that’s been bothering him - Johnny.

Well, not the man himself. The amount of secrets hidden beneath that easygoing smile. Ghost has been racking his brain for days trying to figure the Konchar riddle out, and he still is no closer to solving it.

His feet take him to the shooting range. He needs something to let his frustrations out on, and he rather not deal with the screams of Limbo right about now.

To his dismay, there’s someone else there already. Ghost can see the shots coming from one of the sniper nests. Whoever is it, they know their way around a rifle.

His feet are silent when he walks to the farthest nest, and settles down in front of an M24 SWS. He automatically goes through checking the rifle, before setting his scope on a target.

A quick inhale and the target falls, Ghost instantly moving onto another, when his companion shoots it down.

Annoyed, he takes a farther one, downing it perfectly. From then on, him and the other sniper enter an unspoken competition, each of them shooting farther and farther, until they both hit the last one together, the mannequin falling off the track and flying a few meters back.

Ghost huffs. He can appreciate the skills required to match him, no matter how irked he was when they started shooting his targets. He hears footsteps behind him and raises up to meet his new rival in sniping.

From the corner pops out Commander Karim, and she raises her brows, before smirking, “good shots, Lieutenant.”

Ghost nods, “likewise, Commander. Where did you get your training?” he can’t help the professional curiosity.

Farah’s face darkens, something defiant in her expression, “the streets of Urzikstan. We’re not an army - we’re a resistance. No… fancy bases and training programs.” She looks around, at the vast training fields, “my soldiers are people who want freedom, who are sick of seeing their family die for the crime of being born in their own country.”

He hums. Having to face such a great enemy with practically no support, the punishment being death and consequences equal your entire world… no wonder they so readily accepted the PMC revenant.

“I didn’t know that revenant deals in such… vile business.” Farah spits after a while.

Something in him believes her, “be careful who you trust.”

She huffs, “I learned that lesson the hard way. But I trust the Captain, and so I trust you.” she turns to him, “I will help you hunt him. My soldiers are not safe until he’s out of the game - he knows too much about our operations.”

Ghost crosses his arms, “you got any other skills? Besides being a good shot.”

Farah smiles, walking towards the gunnery behind them. She inspects the weapons hanging on the wall, taking one revolver, opening the chamber to reveal one bullet.

She gives the gun to Ghost, and walks a step back. “Go ahead, shoot me.” she lifts her head up.

He looks from her to the revolver in his hands, thinking about it for a moment, before lining up and shooting her in the head half a second later.

Ghost tilts his head when Farah is completely unaffected, the bullet clinking on the floor. “They call it Ironskin. Shoot me, and the bullet falls to the ground, stab me, and the knife breaks.”

“How’d you get captured?” He returns the revolver to the wall, turning to lean on the table next to it.

“Gas. Not immune to that.” Farah snarls, and he gets the feeling there’s something more to that vulnerability than she lets on. She meets his stare head on, “I’ve heard rumors about you, Ghost. About your powers. Is Limbo truly as powerful as they say?”

“No”, he sighs, pushing off the table to leave, “It’s stronger.”

As he walks by her, Farah nods, silently analyzing him. She would make a powerful ally when Ghost deems her trustworthy. He’ll find out soon enough, on the field.

Price and Ghost are currently scoping out a potential location for the PMC revenant’s deal. The building is a small bar in a dark corner of Las Almas, with a back exit that leads to a car park, where intel suggests a truck housing the ‘goods’ will be.

The Captain has started irritating him about 5 minutes ago, when their very professional conversation about the best way to kill a man with a spoon has taken a sharp turn of topic to become about… Soap of all things.

“So… you and Soap, huh?” Price smirks, his voice filling his mind with his new most hated conversation starter. Seriously, when are they gonna learn there’s nothing interesting to gossip about him and Johnny?

The Captain side eyes him, “I beg to differ, I think it’s quite exciting, what you two got there.”

“What we got is a professional friendship between soldiers, Captain.” Ghost booms in return.

Price nudges his shoulder, cackling in his brain, “that so? Let me take a look…”

Ghost stiffens, “don’t you fucking dare-!”

“Don’t think about Soap MacTavish then, Simon.” He can practically hear the singsong way Price burrows into his memories.

Oh, now this is low, even for Price. Pulling out the ‘don’t think about the red balloon’ trick? Alright. Ghost won’t think about Johnny on principle.

He will not think about how Johnny smiles at him at mess, or how he claps his shoulder before leaving. He won’t think about all the nights he spent awake, staring at the ceiling, falling asleep to the memory of Johnny’s warmth on his skin. He certainly won’t think about how, when their eyes meet, he’s filled with this sudden urge to wrap his arms around him, how he wishes he could just do it one more time, how he’s going insane just thinking about it-

Ghost turns his head slowly, taking in Price’s gaping mouth and wide eyes.

…fuck.

He hears Price inhale to react, and drags a hand over his mask, “I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it. I know it’s a problem. I won’t act on that, I swear on it Captain.”

Price returns to look at the bar, processing the information. Ghost starts to feel antsy when he finally pipes up, “as long as you keep it quiet, I don’t care what you do. We break a lot of rules, Simon. You really think I give a damn if you two start fucki-”

“We’re not fucking!” he says out loud, glaring at Price, and instantly turns away, unable to hold the Captain’s gaze, “and it’s not… it’s not exactly what I want.”

“What do you want, son?”

What does he want? Scratch that, it doesn’t matter what it is, he won’t get it. Not when it’s…

Price hums, “maybe something like this?” he projects a scene into Ghost’s head - two men, their faces flickering and undefined for a few moments before solidifying into Ghost and Soap. They’re sitting on a couch, in a small living room of sorts. Not talking, not doing anything really, just… cuddling. Trailing hands, flames warming skin, tracing scars, soothing.

It feels safe. It feels… complete.

Ghost snarls and shakes his head to rid himself of the image, “stop.”

The Captain has a somber look that Ghost catches in the peripheral of his vision, “you want this, Simon. I could feel just how much. Question is, why do you think you don’t deserve it?”

Dead men don’t get to deserve, a memory whispers to him.

“We’re all dead. Doesn’t stop me from wanting, and deserving. Since when has that stopped you?”

Since he couldn’t even vocalise it. Couldn’t even form the words, his wants, in his scarred mouth.

“Actions speak louder than words, son. I’m sure Soap will understand, he’s smart enough.”

Ghost sighs, “since when are you a relationship counselor, Captain?”

“Comes with the fuckin’ job, apparently.”

They huff a laugh, and return to their actual job, watching this extremely boring bar, and judging silently the people deciding 4 pm on a Tuesday is the time to get fuckin’ wasted.

Intel is slowly being pieced together, Farah and Alex joining on the efforts to plan for every possible outcome of the mission.

The two of them have been quite useful, providing details on the PMC revenant they couldn’t have gathered beforehand.

The revenant is able to see from the eyes of all their soldiers, the puppets working as a hive mind. They’re not reanimated corpses, or replications of the revenant themselves, but a conjured creation, controlled like a robot from afar.

They can’t actually die, but destroy enough of their body, and the revenant will deem them useless, opting to melt the creature and focus their efforts on the rest.

Alex suggested attacking from multiple fronts, as the revenant’s greatest weakness is their own brain - they’re limited with how much they can divide their attention.

Optimally, they would go after the revenant themselves, but as Farah told them before, they’re likely not even in Mexico. For this mission, they aim to threaten, to scare the revenant into hiding, following his tracks to the snake den.

The two new revenants introduce the rest to their powers. Ghost already saw Farah’s, but he gets to see how knives just bend and refuse to pierce her. He reckons, if her powers are kept a secret, she can be practically unbeatable, if the enemy doesn’t prepare gas.

Alex’s showcase, while less shocking than Farah’s, is no less impressive. One moment, the man stands in front of him, the next he’s gone.

Invisibility. Not hard to guess how he died. Ghost morbidly wonders if he lost his leg in the same incident.

Gaz volunteers to have a go at Farah’s Ironskin, and proceeds to throw whole tanks at the woman, who just stands there unamused. Soap is about to join in when Price blocks him, shaking his head. He informs Ghost the muppets had the bright idea of detonating trucks to use as rockets.

Ghost doesn’t even want to imagine how that would’ve turned out.

As he makes his way back to his barrack for the night, Ghost overhears two familiar voices arguing.

He sneaks closer, interest piqued.

“-playing at games you don’t understand, Phil.”

A barking laugh grates his teeth, “you’re always thinking so small, no wonder you’re still a Captain after all this time. You had potential, but you threw it all away to play with your little special soldiers.”

“At least I have soldiers, you two faced bastard.” Price growls, more anger than Ghost has heard in a while in his tone.

What does he mean by that?

“You can’t tell anyone, Captain” Graves mockingly enunciates, “higher brass got you tongue-tied, don’t it?” he chuckles cruelly, “this is what fucking annoys me about the military - so many damn rules!”

Footsteps echo, walking away, “you’ll learn one day, John. Sometimes you gotta step over red tape to get anywhere.”

The Captain is silent as Graves leaves. Eventually, he tells Ghost in his mind, “I know you’re there, son. Come out.”

Price is wearing a tired expression when Ghost slinks out of his hiding spot. “I suppose you have questions”, the Captain sighs.

“Not if the answers will get you in trouble.” he nods at the way Graves went, “is he going to be a problem?”

Price readjusts his hat, overlooking the horizon with contempt, replying honestly, “I don’t know. Keep a safe distance from him, and let Soap and Gaz know to not trust him. He won’t do anything while being tied to Shepherd, but the moment Graves will see an opportunity, I can’t guarantee he’ll keep his loyalties in check.”

Something tightens in his chest at the mention of the Sergeants. If Graves lays his hands on either one of them…

Limbo will be a mercy on him.

Can you tell I hate the military yet

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