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tsukii0002 · 6 months ago

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hi! So I had a little not really little fic that has been on my mind when I got home from school…

Imagine mc and the brothers were working at fall, dressed up as bunny boys again we love em and the manager suddenly put a special ‘fan service’ on the menu, basically if you brought the fan service on the menu you could interact with one of the workers like they will flirt with you, compliment you, kiss on the cheek maybe, etc…but because the brothers were not too comfortable with that except asmo but we don’t talk about him so it is only for the customers to interact with none other the our majesty..MC! mc is the energetic and says risk it for the biscuit type of person when they are taking a risk of getting their soul stolen or whatever, so they literally have no problem taking the place, flirting, kissing the customers cheek and being all affectionate besides, it’s okay right?……right??

I can imagine the brothers being all jelly jelly haha…especially Levi.

it is alright if you’re not interested in it! <3

I love the idea! I hope I can capture it well, again thanks for the suggestion 🤗! Thank you again for your patience and sorry for the grammatical errors.

"It's bunny season and at "The fall" you'll be able to find high quality services"

In this way they announced again the presence of the brothers on the site (this family gets into debt too often), with the novelty of the, never seen before, fan service option. The brothers were not very comfortable with this service but, as always, a fearless soul was ready to solve this problem. Mc entered the room in a costume apparently more provocative than the others, they didn't look as uncomfortable as the demons, they were ready for anything.

‘Don't worry, from this moment on I'll take care of this service’

And with a wink, the human began to work as if nothing had happened.

Lucifer

The customers looked at the avatar of pride with sparkling eyes "Show them the menu in a provocative way" they had asked him. They were really taking advantage of the situation, but, who the hell had made these suggestions?! "That's tough" Mc had appeared behind him, carrying several menus under their arm and that smile he knew so well adorned their face. With an overly sensual step they approached one of the customers and sat on her lap, opening the menu to show her. The demoness began to blush as she searched for the words to speak, Mc chuckled in a charming way as they pointed to the most expensive dessert in the shop "I think something this sweet would be perfect for someone as sweet"

It took him a while to react. Why did this human always have to rush forward without hesitation!?

He felt his pride shaken as he saw how all the customers focused all their attention solely and exclusively on Mc… his Mc.

He is able to do his job perfectly, but he would try to keep Mc busy with other tasks, not approaching the customers. Until the manager caught his eye.

He will be proud to see Mc being the most popular, but this would clash with jealousy, Mc is his and no one should forget that.

Eventually he would relieve Mc, he would rather work with all that nonsense than let his human become a celebrity desired by all.

Mammon

Mammon didn't know where to look, his cheeks were more than flushed when he was asked to "serve the demonus in a naughty way", What the hell did that mean?! The demon opened the bottle hesitantly, this time even the debt wasn't his fault, he didn't want to do that when Mc took it out of his hands, they winked confidently and with unexpected dexterity poured two glasses, splashing their fingers in the process. Nevertheless, they licked them in a very sensual way, as they innocently batted their long, long eyelashes. The breathless customers were even more petrified when Mc sat down between them and held out the glasses with a big smile "We should make a toast, shouldn't we?"

What he had seen was real? Since when Mc have such a naughty and sensual side… and, Why weren't they doing that to him!!?

Not happy with the situation, if he got paid for being jealous he would never worry about debts again.

After that he would not talk to Mc, first for embarrassment and secondly for jealousy, they should only do that with their first…

He'll try to do those jobs so Mc wouldn't have to do them, it's his human, only his. It didn't work out too well.

Unable to work well knowing that Mc does such jobs. Sometimes he would leave his post to tell customers that Mc don't cover that part of the menu.

Levi

He was about to faint. "Do an adorable bunny greeting" How could they ask such a thing to an anti-social otaku?! Surely they wanted to make fun of him and his hobbies. Suddenly he felt a pat on his back, it was Mc with their trusty smile "Leave it to me". Mc quickly adopted a magical girl pose with their hands imitating the ears of a rabbit, and as a deadly attack, they waved them while making an adorable gesture with their cute little face "Kyuu~" x1000 damage. The customers started to clap their hands blushing vigorously. Was Mc so powerful or maybe they were otakus too? They got even redder when Mc sat next to them saying "What can this bunny do for you?"

His face went through five shades of red before he could react. Did Mc just do what they just did?

How had he missed the opportunity to record it?!!! so adorable, so cute…. But other people had seen it!! That gesture was addressed to other people!!!!

His envy took over him completely, he had always dreamed of that kind of service, and on top of everything else Mc?!!!! It was every demon's dream!

He is not able to concentrate, since he only mumbles words of self-deprecation, the clients feel at some point afraid.

He would never be able to do those jobs, so unfortunately he drowning in his envy as he watches his Mc doing things he always dreamed they would do to him.

Satan

Satan was about to explode when he heard about this fan service, and when he was asked to "Shower them of praise and admiration" was the straw that broke the camel's back. He couldn't fake admiration, let alone when his anger was about to take over. He was about to head to the table when Mc took his place, giving him a knowing look. The human put their hands on the customer's shoulder and cupped their chin, looking at the (now paralysed) demon with eyes full of apparent admiration. One praise after another, one compliment followed by another and another, the kind words kept coming accompanied by the most adorable expressions from the human "I really am a lucky bunny to have come across such a magnificent customer"

He can't find the words, he can't describe how it feels to see Mc praising other demons in such a way.

He is full of wrath, but it's not the usual wrath, no, it's jealousy.

I would try to divert the attention of the customers by bringing up topics of conversation, talking about Devildom news and advising them on drinks and desserts from the menu, so they don't notice the fan service option.

Since that doesn't work, he would try to get Mc to quit the job, but they both know that if that happens they would never earn the money they need.

He would try to do the jobs himself, but he would do it in an artificial and dry way, he couldn't let Mc praise people like that, at least not people other than himself.

Asmo

At first he liked the idea, but the customers kept asking for more and more, to the point that when he heard "Feeding them adorably" he felt a shudder. A squeeze on the hand calmed him and Mc with their charming smile stepped forward like an epic hero. Carrying a tray with a large ice cream, they carefully sat down between the two customers who looked at them with wide eyes. Mc took a spoon and filled it, and after putting their hair behind their ear, shyly, they turned to one of the customers "Say ahhhh" The demoness's pupils turned into hearts when she saw Mc's blush with a tender smile, she opened her mouth and took the bite about to faint, while Mc filled the spoon again "Maybe the customers want to feed this little bunny next?"

Omg MC!!! how lovely and spicy, wait… How lovely and spicy with other demons!!!!

Asmo is not usually jealous, but seeing an unknown aspect of Mc makes him jealous, not because of the act itself, but because it was not directed at him.

He knows how sensual Mc can be, but it was the only thing he wasn't willing to share with the world. He tries to keep smiling but is not able to be his usual charming self.

He would follow Mc to every table to make sure they never did that to anyone but him again, and no one would complain, two for one, but in the end he would get scolded.

He would do everything he could to divert the attention of customers, both from the fan service and from Mc. And he is probably the only one who can do it.

Beel

Beel was always willing to do any job if there was food involved but "Holding a pocky in the mouth while the customer bites into it" was too much, he didn't like that sort of thing. However, the box of pocky had disappeared from his hand, Mc was at his side "Don't worry". With agility they sat on the couch under the attentive gaze of the customers, and with a sinuous slowness they took two pockies and bit them forming a V while they looked at a customer with a mocking smile. He didn't know which was redder, the customer who tried to bite it or the demonus spilled from his trembling hands. Mc laughed sweetly as they put the candy in the customer's mouth "Has the bunny got your tongue?"

He didn't know how to act, or exactly what to feel, the only thing that was clear to him was that he didn't like it, he didn't like it at all.

Mc was a kind person, but sharing food was too personal, a thing of the two of them. So he couldn't help but feel jealous…

He felt a sensation in his stomach, which was not hunger, as if it were shrinking. Every time he saw his human smiling at another demon in that way he liked so much, his stomach would shrink even more.

He intimidated the clients by looking at them, even though he was unaware of it. He is so focused on Mc that he is not able to do his job properly.

Although he wanted to do his part to keep Mc away from the clients, he couldn't, and every time he saw a group call out to his human, he felt he had failed to protect them.

Belphie

"Wear a ribbon you get as a present" was a pointless and annoying thing he wasn't willing to do. It could be worse, it could, but that strange service was awkward, yet buying a ribbon was an extra expense so it was impossible to take it off the menu. He lazily walked over to one of the tables when he felt his waist being grabbed, it was Mc. They smiled at him and walked over to the table in his place. Mc sat down and immediately several hands held out different ribbons, the human put on a flirtatious and hesitant expression as they looked at the different ribbons. The customers blushed as Mc slowly and smugly placed the ribbons on their bunny ears, on their neck…. "I think this bunny needs even more bows don't you?"

He didn't have to think long to know that jealousy was eating him up. How dare they even look at his human?

The jealousy showed in his expression, everyone could see it. He was on the verge of kidnapping Mc and hiding the two of them together for a nap.

He tried to make customers lose interest in the human, telling them Mc was unpleasant or clumsy, but when the demons ignored him, they could hear teeth gnashing.

There was no way he could offer anything better than Mc to the clients, so he tried to play the lovable demon card to make Mc not work.

He wouldn't try to do the job, instead, he would just sit there looking at the customers in a bad way, and make it everyone problem.

I've finally been able to come back!! the truth is that I've had so many things together, among them a horrible creative block, a burn out, the thesis... I will try to get into a rhythm little by little and answer everything I have in my mailbox. So if you have come this far, thank you very much🩷.

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jazjelspen · 2 years ago

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leaving on wild charted waters [pt.3]

(what if our mc just got tired of Night Raven College and it's inhabitants?)

(how would some of our NRC students react to this?...)

(includes each house leader +ace and deuce! as requested!<3)

(also includes lots of angst!/mention of blood but not a lot/ angst angst angst angst angst--/not proofread/may be ooc and inconsistent in some places(in both the second part and this part) my apologies!! T-T/mention of book7 overblot/did I mention angst?)

it's been over two weeks now, two weeks in RSA.

so far you've met the headmaster of the school, Ambrose LXIII, with the guidance of Rielle. the headmaster understood your circumstances and talked to you about how he'll try his best to find a way back home for you, and to ease up any of your doubts and concerns he even said he'll promptly ask a student to hand you a report from him of any progress he's made to ensure a safe passage back home for you!

even without having to be an official student or enroll they let you stay in the same dorm as Rielle with your own dorm room as a temporary stay here... and your dorm room was actually nice and well set up! like a hotel room... you were relieved you didn't have to worry about the ceiling cracking and falling on your face for the rest of your nights here.

and to your amazement the headmaster kept his word, unlike Crowley. any report of progress was mostly driven by research but he did mention a lot of Twisted Wonderland's history to connect to any potential gateways back to your world... and this felt way better than whatever Crowley was doing so it was like a breath of fresh air.

finally for the first time ever you've been able to feel like you’re several steps closer to seeing your friends and family back home!... every time you'd think about it you'd get goosebumps of excitement.

during these past few days you've met an enormous amount of friends! most of them being Rielle's while others were outside of the inner social circle but still all of them were friendly or just got along in some way or form, it seemed almost magical. aside from Rielle one of your other closest friends was this boy of green eyes and long, and I mean long blonde hair that usually either dragged behind him or was in a huge braid, he was actually the one who healed your broken arm and wounds with his magical healing powers from his hair! and now you're able to be more active again!

Raps is his name, and he was usually always called upon and under strict supervision by his father whom was a professor there... but you weren't sure if they are related by blood or not since the professor had dark black curls and grey eyes rather than the yellow haired boy's more bright features, but you never really bothered to ask or wonder much. in the end you two got along well and actually had a bit in common! mostly due to the fact that you both can relate to the feeling of being trapped, restrained.

in the end you absolutely loved your temporary stay here so far, you hoped no overblots would ruin your experience... so you never really let your guard down but nonetheless it was relaxing.

we wouldn't be able to say the same for Night Raven College and everyone you left behind though!

Meanwhile in Night Raven College....

it was after classes ended on this cold and grey day when five particular freshmen and a student robot of NRC have been grouping up after school for the past week for one particular reason only...

"where could they be?? we've searched everywhere! the halls, the classrooms, the garden, forest, the shore... it's like they disappeared from thin air!" exclaimed the ace, Ace Trappola to be exact.

"we've looked everywhere Ace, what also irks me is that even Vil has been harsher on the entire dorm since they disappeared." the apple of the group, Epel Felmier, sighed in frustration on the brink of snapping.

"...but could they have been taken, kidnapped?... I'm sure Grim would've heard of any struggle but we haven't even heard from the cat." spoke the wolf of the group, Jack Howl.

"no.. Grim has been avoiding us like the plague and even managed to sneak away from us several times. not sure where he could be hiding now aside from the old ramshackle dorm but-- even yet he always manages to slip through our hands!..." the spade spoke worryingly, Deuce Spade was deeply concerned for your safety and confused over Grim's actions.

"that human!! they've been driving the young master mad! all he's been talking about is where they could be and if they are alright!!... and every time I come back to him it's like the sky and his excellence himself just keeps getting worse and worse!.." the loudest knight of Malleus Draconia, Sebek Zigvolt, exclaimed loudly with worry for both the prefect and his young master... but more worried about the young master's train of thought with how worse the clouds have been getting with the most terrible rain and thunder when each day goes by.

"my big brother hasn't been sleeping at all.. way worse than when he has his game marathons. he's constantly looking for any digital footprint they could've left or even trying to hack into their location but it always overrides somehow... it always says that the device is dead or nonexistent." the younger of the shroud brothers, Ortho Shroud, is seen stressing over you and his big brother, Idia Shroud. "with the amount of information my big brother has been trying to look through it could possibly even make me short circuit."

the entire group was at a frustrating dead end for any clue of your disappearance aside from all your everyday items being left behind and your last known scent to be in the ramshackle dorm and at the very edge of the sea. other than that no one has much of a clue.

well they have been hearing from students that a ship appeared as quickly as it disappeared in the night/very early morning before anyone was up, and that one rumor caused other different kinds of rumors to spread like wildfire. some say you were abducted by pirates, stolen by mischievous pixies, suddenly teleported back into your world without warning, or even... that you have finally left on your own. everyone acknowledged the rumors but they didn't want to think about the reality, the cold hard truth, that you really could've left.

if only they knew how terrible their house leaders took it too.

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(requested characters)

Ace: the ace, one of the first people you've met. he's always been a funny and childish friend, sometimes he made you laugh and cry of joy from his terrible yet funny jokes and antics while other times said antics would get you in trouble. he didn't want to accept that he could be part of the reason why you're gone, which is why he tried to convince himself and everyone else around that you were taken instead of leaving voluntarily... he wouldn't be able to handle the guilt and heartbreak to accept that you truly left. he loved you, he truly cared for you and your well-being-- he knew he had a hard time to express these feelings but you were his best friend! of course he cared for your health! but... he couldn't handle the fact that maybe just maybe... he wasn't there for you enough to stay with them a little longer.

he could still remember the first day that you were gone, you weren't in any of your classes-- the teachers didn't even call your name when taking attendance anymore. it was utterly bizarre. Grim was still in his classes yet he sat far away from any students that knew you and disappeared after every class ended.. it was as if he was hiding something. and he was, but Ace and Deuce had no idea what it could be aside that they knew it was about you.

in the end, Ace is left heartbroken knowing that he didn't make sure to do enough to help you even when you asked for it from them. he knew that all he and deuce gave you was pure and utter trouble.

and he couldn't accept the fact, so now here he is having his friends look for you when he knew that you were long gone without even saying goodbye.

Deuce: the spade, one of the first people you've met alongside the ace, a passionate yet slow boy with a heart of gold. as much as he cared for you too the way Ace did he knew that even he wasn't helping either. he knew they should've done more or at least what you asked of them. but now you're gone, and just like Ace it seems as if he too is in denial about their part in your disappearance. he truly wants to believe that you didn't leave on your own even if all evidence was starting to slowly point to that possibility.

unlike Ace though, he seemed to be accepting it faster than him. he still followed along with the story that you were taken but he knew that after all the trouble, all the overblots, all your injuries-- he knew you just couldn't handle it anymore. after all it was clearly written on your face the day when you awoke from losing consciousness in the last overblot that you were ready to move on and make proper progress to get home.

he just...truly wishes that at least wherever you are that you are at least taking care of yourself with more helpful and reliable friends by your side, something he knew that he and Ace weren't able to do.

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(your dorm leaders)

Riddle

inside of the dorm with pampered red roses adorning every corner was the queen of hearts of the Heartslabyul dorm completely and utterly tearing his dorm room into shreds in pure red rage.

Riddle Rosehearts was fuming, heartbroken, and betrayed on so many levels that he hasn't felt in a good while. hearing from Cater and Trey about your disappearance and then hearing from other of his dorm students about the ship that sailed here as quickly as it left in the late hours of the night/very early hours of the morning.

he immediately assumed that you were kidnapped and in danger! he even marched to the headmaster's office to report your disappearance with other dorm leaders!... well actually-- surprisingly they all came at the same time without planning. but in the end when approaching Crowley with this question of 'where is the prefect?', the headmaster was calm, horrifyingly calm, and said a phrase that shook him on many levels with his fellow dorm leaders beside him.

"they parted ways with us to find other opportunities at finding their home! they felt too bad to tell you all so they just left."

"but they will be coming back to say goodbye before they go back home-- if they find a way back home... right?" spoke the leader of Ignihyde, for the first time out of his room.

"unlikely!" exclaimed the headmaster with a smile.

that one first phrase that headmaster Crowley told them was all that he needed to hear, in the moment of processing what he's heard everything was basically fading away as he also slowly but quickly ran back to his dorm room, in tears.

he was so angry, so furious, so emotional, so... he felt as if his own heart had been grabbed and thrown out of his chest. 'why couldn't you at least say goodbye??' he'd think.

he has never thrown so many books, ripped up so many letters he's written for you from himself that he never dared to send or give, and cut up then stepped on so many bouquets of roses in his room with your name on the tags.

wait...

oh, those roses.

he stopped dead in his tracks with tears streaming down his face as he pathetically dropped down to his knees at the sight of all the five sad 'bouquets' of fresh red roses he planned to give you, now all had their petals and stems broken, torn, shredded, and crushed.

he then realized he didn't have his gloves on anymore... his palms had small yet prominent holes that were dripping red, red as the roses he destroyed. seems like the roses had thorns.

ahh..he remembers now...

those roses were meant just for you.

Leona:

"what do you mean you still haven't found the herbivore yet?..." spoke the ruthless Kingscholar lion of Savannaclaw in a low yet snarly tone "I doubt they could've swam themselves out of here with waters like the ones this place has anyway. you all are likely not even looking right." he huffed as he closed his eyes with his body on the ground of the botanical garden facing away from the hyena gasping for air due to all the running that he had to do to bring the news to Leona.

Ruggie took a few deep breathes and quick pants before speaking "...we've already got twelve other students including the Ignihyde dorm leader's younger brother and the vice-dorm leader of Pomefiore, a robot and a hunter, looking around and no one's found them! Howl already tried to sniff them out and all we came up with was nothing much but just a faint smell of them from the shore." he huffed and panted in exhaustion.

Leona just scoffed "as I mentioned before, you're all still probably not looking in the right places."

Ruggie tried to intercept but knew that even if he did it'd be fruitless and gain nothing from trying to correct Leona, yet he was frustrated too and wanted to know where you could be as well.

but unlike the freshmen at least Ruggie has been starting to accept the possibility that you really have left, forever. Ruggie was about to turn and leave to continue the search and try to sniff out any information from other students until---

"Bucchi." Leona broke the short silence with a throaty command for his attention which he certainly achieved with both of Ruggie's ears poking up to hear his next set of words.

"keep participating in the search for the prefect. If all continues to come up dry, then I'll just have to take this into my own hands."

and this time without trying to speak a single word back he nodded with a quick and stern 'mhm' before scurrying off to help the rest of the students. once the hyena was gone Leona then had his eyes look up through one of the many windows in the garden that are presenting the sky's ever growing storm. oh how much he was longing for you.

he could still remember as if it was yesterday, when Crowley told all of the house leaders the news after they all abruptly showed up at the same time.

"they parted ways with us to find other opportunities at finding their home!"

that phrase.. he remembered how taken aback he was.

Leona slammed his fists on the headmaster's table "parted. ways?? as in they left NRC?!" a low growl came from inside his throat as Headmaster Crowley contained his eerily calm smile on his face.

"Sir Kingscholar I must insist you to control your temper." he spoke in his usual annoying and irritating voice "It's what they decided and were set on, end of story."

Leona couldn't remember much else after that blow out since all he did right after that was back away and stayed stuck in his thoughts until finally he just left the room suddenly. He didn't listen to any conversations that happened after that since all he could think was 'why not at least say goodbye?'

he finished recounting the moment before he mumbled to himself "I still have too much to say to you.",

but really he hoped that somehow somewhere you could still hear him. even if you probably left them for good.

Azul:

The sea witch of the Octavinelle dorm was pacing back and forth in every corner across his office in the Mostro Lounge. He's tried his best to squeeze out any information out of any of his dorm students or employees about the prefect with the help of his left and right hand eels ,Jade and Floyd Leech, with Floyd being the most productive yet not catching much information aside from the students he's squeezed the air out of exclaiming about some ship that has left in the midst of the night way pass midnight but too early to be morning. It intrigued all three yet it made our octopus pop a few nerves with how panicky he's been.

when he first heard this rumor it made him run to the headmaster's office with the immense fear that you could've been taken. he could remember his glasses slipping off at every bounce he made with each step of his run. he could remember the moment he opened the door to the headmaster's office along with the sudden appearance of all of his fellow house leaders in the same room..(excluding Malleus as usual) he could still feel the sweat dripping down his face, the crazy and misplaced strands of hair from his usual look, his glasses lopsided, and the scarf of his uniform threatening to fall off his shoulder-- of course he attempted to fix every one of these details on the spot to look somewhat presentable.

yet the answer he got from the headmaster was nothing short of soul-crushing for him. he asked a continuous amounts of questions as to why and how but all were dodged by the headmaster and answered with a short,

"it's just what they decided."

now he's just back into his office now diving head first into his work and school. much to his dismay it only kept him distracted for a temporary amount of time and in the dark of night under his covers all he could think about is you, just you.

he truly wished he could've been a part of your world.

Kalim:

the generous sultan of the Scarabia dorm was sulking in his room with his friend Jamil sitting by his side. Kalim was heartbroken over your disappearance and he remembers how worried sick he was at first. he like many assumed you were kidnapped and he was even waiting for some kind of ransom note to appear and he would've paid full price and more... but when he and other dorm leaders came to talk their concerns all they got was the news that you left voluntarily.

he was one of very few that felt that in their hearts you'd come back. one way or another Kalim felt in his broken heart that you'd appear as suddenly as you disappeared and unlike other dorm leaders he wouldn't put it against you to the slightest. he wouldn't hold grudges or be mad at you if you ever came back, in fact he understood why you'd leave and he was all up for making everything ten times better than before just so you'd never leave him again.

"you have to be realistic here, Kalim. for all we know maybe they found a way home faster than they did here, or they found a place where they don't have to worry about the next overblot or what their next meal will be." Jamil tried to be straightforward and blunt with Kalim, he didn't want him to have hope that you'd come back and then actually never coming back. "we don't know and may never know unless some kind of obvious sign shows that they will actually come back... but just don't keep your hopes up. for your sake." Jamil stood up from the edge of the bed to walk towards the exit of the room "I'll be back, I have to make dinner so you won't go to sleep starving."

With Jamil leaving Kalim then jumped out of his bed to open his window, the sky still not clear of the grey clouds and still not dark enough for the second star of the right to show up but still hoped that his message would still be received by the wishing star.

the platinum blonde boy held his hands together under his lips "please please please please.. please.." Kalim mumbled, wishing with all his heart.

"please, may _____ be safe, sound, and happy... wherever they are.."

Vil:

in the dorm of the fairest queen was the dorm leader watching from up above behind the tallest window of his room. clenching both of the red velvet curtains in his hands as he watched a group of freshman and a robot, including one of his own, group up and talk hectically and stressfully to each other. Vil Schoenheit knew very well why this particular group of students were talking in such an exaggerating manner, after all... with what Rook has told him and what he's heard from various students around the school it was most definitely about you.

as collected and uncaring as he tried to seem right now he could definitely feel worry and a kind of anger bubble up inside him.

'could you really have left?' he thinks.

remembering what the headmaster said and all the bits of evidence he and Rook have picked up it seemed that it was certainly the case.

"they parted ways with us to find other opportunities at finding their home! they felt too bad to tell you all so they just left." spoke the headmaster.

you really did leave without saying goodbye.

he couldn't completely blame you, as silent and busy as he was he obviously knew that his and the rest of the overblots and people that surrounded you were bringing you down. it's why he invited you at times for make-overs, spa days, and everything in between to at least brighten up your spirits whenever he could.

"I suppose all of that wasn't enough for you." Vil mumbled to himself as he aggressively thrashed both curtains he held in each hand inward to close off the view of the storm clouds from the sky, to stop those clouds from taunting him any longer.

that and because he couldn't let anyone from out his window see the mascara dripping down his face.

"Roi de Poison?..." his hunter spoke in a calm and hesitant voice, noting that this isn't exactly the time to try to make conversation.

and he was right "Rook!--" Vil seemed to have jumped, immediately yet carefully wiping his mascara-filled tears with a handkerchief on him. "what is so important that you had to come in without knocking??" he exclaimed as he has yet to face his hunter.

"Roi de Posion... there is something your eyes must see to believe." he seemed to take out his phone with an image on his screen.

"Well get on with it then!" Vil exclaimed before he finally turned to face Rook in dramatic motion, eyes still a bit bloodshot even from the few tears he had.

Rook carefully approached Vil, phone in hand, once he took one last look on the screen to make sure it showed what he wanted to show the hunter then finally faced the screen towards his dorm leader with hesitance.

it was a Magicam account, someone's most recent post...from yesterday..

it was Neige.

but.. wait... that person by his side.. it couldn't be--

why were you in Neige's Magicam post?

Idia:

dorm leader of the underworld Ignihyde, has not been sleeping as much as he should be. of course he's never slept well in the first place but it's just been getting worse since the ramshackle prefect has left.

currently Idia Shroud was looking for any digital footprints he could find, trying to track your location, trying to figure out where you could be. in the end it was all for naught since for the past week or two he's found nothing and basically has given up at this point.

he leaned back against his gaming chair and with a sigh of disappointment, he didn't want to accept what Crowley told all of the house leaders in his office. he knew that there's some kind of trace of you out there somewhere, he felt like it was up to him to find the person who bothered to give him the time of day and attention that he'd never thought he'd get.

the light from his screens were causing his eyes to become dry and almost bloodshot, each blink hurting his mind and his focus. that was until a notification came from his phone.

that's strange.. no one ever sends him messages unless it's in game.

he grabbed his phone beside his keyboard to read the message. how odd, it was from the noob Rook Hunt. what would the vice-dorm leader of Pomefiore want anything with him? nonetheless Idia was slightly intrigued yet annoyed, he pressed on the notification to lead him straight to the new chat with the hunter, it said:

"Roi de Ta Chambre, I do hope this finds you well. A little bird told me that you too have been wondering about the safety and whereabouts of our beloved missing prefect. I may have the answer to your worries here."

below the message was a link to a Magicam post under the name of Neige Leblanc. he's heard of the name but was never interested in the petty and do-gooder lives of any of the RSA students. he cautiously pressed on the link to show a photo, a photo of said Neige Leblanc posing with a familiar face... a familiar face that he now wished he didn't see.

it was you, you were with an RSA student...

"tch..." Idia grumbled as he threw his phone back on his desk before he stepped back out of his chair and walked over to his bed "why did i even bother."

he fell face first into his bed and hugged one of his long yet soft pillows tightly, tears quietly falling down on their own slowly, he didn't dare make a sound in case Ortho would come barging in. he continued to cry quietly now acknowleging that you truly did leave without a goodbye, and left with RSA students no less, and with how you treated him before you left-- he dreamed that he might've had a chance with you.

but he should've known, dreams are for rookies.

Malleus:

the dragon prince of Diasomnia was a strange case, unlike every one of his fellow dorm leaders he actually knew that you left by ship. where to though he had no clue.

he remembers that he came to visit you at late hours of the night at the ramshackle dorm like he usually does except he saw you sneak out with nothing but Grim on your back. he followed you walking down to the shore to see a large ship awaiting for a passenger and what shook him a bit more was that the headmaster was there beside the ship, expecting... you. Malleus watched in confusion as you gave your beloved fiery feline a huge and long hug and some shared words with the headmaster. he was about to teleport himself right in front of you when he saw you walk up the gangplank of the ship to hop aboard but he stopped himself when he remembered about your cast.

ahh yes, how could he forget. he gave you the broken arm, the cuts and wounds, he gave them all to you when he overblotted. he knew that you said you had a chance of going back home but he didn't think it'd have you to go by ship.. and without saying goodbye.

in the end he just watched you and the ship disappear, watched Grim slowly walk back to ramshackle, and watched the headmaster disappear on the spot.

for the next few days that passed he's been mourning the loss of your presence, he's almost casted spells to take himself to you-- to retrieve you and hide you in a tower with nothing but him to protect you... to right all the wrongs he's made. he'd bring you fresh flowers every day and make sure to keep you healthy and happy, he'd do anything to have you back.

but he should've held back, every other person who's overblot you had to deal with should've held back. the headmaster should've done his job. then maybe just maybe you would've been able to be in his arms that night when you left.

in the end he was the only one who didn't ever visit the headmaster for any information about you. he had no reason after all he saw you leave.

after he gets a grip on himself though, he will confront Headmaster Crowley for any information as to 'why' he let you leave.

right now all he could ask is why... why why??.. the more he felt stuck in his thoughts the more the storm outside worsened. at this point everyone could see how he's feeling, his entourage of three tried their best to comfort him but it was no use. the prince of thorns was stuck sulking, and he didn't know how else to stop unless you were back into his arms.

he's also been taking way too many naps now, strange to his three knights yet he knew he did this because every time in every one of his dreams he had you in his arms and walked beside you. he had you all to himself in his dreams.

he saw that this was a better solution than being awake.

(THIS IS SUPER LONG and I might've messed up here and there T-T hope it broke a few hearts tho! I tried my very best in each one of their reactions!<3)

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devildomditzy · 2 months ago

Note

Mammon/Asmo would object to a wedding. They might not even know the people, they just like drama

Who's Most Likely to... Object at a Wedding?

That would be Asmo and Mammon

(And oh my god you gave me a great idea)

Link to the masterpost

"I object!"

Gasps resound around the crowd at the shrill voice that erupted from somewhere in the group. Well, one side of the crowd. Namely your side, your relatives and friends all shocked by the scene unfolding in front of them. As for the demon's side - well, groans accompanied by eyerolls fall over the section, all as everyone in the room looks to Asmo, standing from his seat with his hand raised to the sky, puppy dog eyes making direct contact with yours.

"Oh come on!", Mammon yells next to your side, letting go of your hand in favor of facing his brother and pointing accusingly in his direction.

"Whaddya mean you object!"

Asmo glares back with a smirk, hands flying to his hips. "I mean MC should be marrying mwah! Not some scummy idiot with a gambling addiction!". He folds his hands together, bringing them to his face, tilting his head, looking at you as if you were an injured kitten. "Poor thing."

"Hey! Why dontcha say that to my face, ya self-obsessed air head!", Mammon calls back in response, beginning to step off the alter. You give Barbatos, who was officiating the ceremony, your most apologetic smile as you grab Mammon by the back of his collar, preventing his tirade further.

Your family exchanges worried glances, with murmurs of "What's going on?" and "Someone do something!" echoing through the room.

"I already did!', Asmo giggles, smiling as he looks om at his brother. "And so, I object."

"W-Well, I object to your objection!", Mammon yells, still raring to make a run at his little brother.

You swear you hear Lucifer audibly groan among the commotion.

"It's not up to you!", Asmo sing-songs, taunting him.

"It's not up to me? I'm their groom for cryin' out loud!", says Mammon, increasing angry. He shakes loose from your grasp and starts his march towards the fifth born.

"Mammon, don't make me-", you begin before Asmo cuts you off.

"Yeah, Mammon, don't make them choose! Why don't we just swap places? I'm sure they'll be much happier with me!"

"Mammon!", you call after him, but its no use. You can tell when your first man is seeing red.

He makes his way through the aisles, grabbing Asmo by the collar.

"Oh my~", he coos in response.

You've just about had it with this mess, and it seems you're not the only one. Barbatos clears his throat from next to you where he stands at the ready.

"MC, I do believe its time to do 'the thing' that you were mentioning."

You sigh in annoyance, handing him your bouquet momentarily. You face the two pain-in-your-asses causing a ruckus and clear your throat, balling up your firsts at your side.

"STAAAAAYYY!!!!!"

Both boys suddenly fall to the floor. Hard.

In fact, all the brothers fall to the floor.

"Whoops."

There are moans from the seats behind where Mammon and Asmo now sit on the floor.

"Oww", Levi whines.

"What the hell was that for?", complains Belphie, who sits up, rubbing the side of his head.

"No, it was necessary", Lucifer sighs as he stands, brushing off the front of his coat, looking up at you. 'They're all yours."

Everyone's attention now snaps to Mammon and Asmo, who look up at you pathetically from their positions.

"You!", you say, pointing at Mammon, "need to learn to recognize when Asmo is just trying to get under your skin. Seriously, how do you not know by now? You've known him for what now? A gajillion years? And why would you think for a second I'd leave you for anyone else? When I'm literally standing next to you trying to become your lifelong partner!?"

"And you!", you shift yourself, pointing at Asmo now, "know I love you. And I know you love me. But we both know that love is strictly platonic! I get you like to mess with Mammon, but did you have to do it on my wedding day?"

"Sowwy!", Asmo baby talks, knocking himself in the head lightly with his fist. "But this is just the rehearsal, right? I'd never do this during the real thing, silly! But I thought that the mood was so drab that we could use some drama!"

"Are you fuckin' with me right now!?", Mammon stares at his brother in disbelief.

"Not right now, no. I was 'fucking' with you about three minutes ago", Asmo winks., before continuing.

"But, sorry Mammon. I didn't think you'd take it that seriously. I mean, we all know you two were made for each other. Why would I really have a shot with MC anyway? Why would any of us?", Asmo looks sheepish as he crosses his arms, shaking his head.

Mammon blinks heavily and looks back to you as you stick out your arm, helping him to his feet. Asmo smiles as he watches.

"I mean, do you see the way they look at you?", he questions, prompting Mammon to blush deeply as he looks into your eyes.

You smile, walking backwards as you lead Mammon back up to the alter.

"Sorry!", you apologize brightly to your family. "It's always something", you shake your head, laughing.

"Now, may I...", Barbatos asks you, searching both of your faces for acknowledgement to proceed.

"I do!", Mammon blurts out, red as can be.

"Mammon, we already said I do", you giggle, grinning brightly at him.

"R-right. Yea, alright", he says, barely paying attention as he turns to Barbatos. "C'mon, can I kiss them now?", he asks, pointing at you.

Barbatos makes a small sound of defeat as he stops his speech, opting instead to smile. "I don't see why not."

For the first time today, the crowd is filled with cheers instead of startled gasps as Mammon grabs you and - of course - dramatically dips you, sealing your lips with a kiss.

He pulls back and smiles.

"I can't wait to do that to ya again tomorrow."

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numinousher · 5 months ago

Text

CHANTAJE! (xxiii)

SUMMARY: being under the watchful eye of the media and your fans, your managers are in desperate need of regaining back your popularity after other influencers who hate you cause mayhem to your life. what best way to do so by having you pretend to be in a relationship with the popular 7 who are known to be intensely wealthy and stoic? will you be able to regain their trust or will they go with their promise of damaging your reputation even more?

WARNING(S) FOR LATER: gore/blood/murder, harassment/bullying, mental health talks (nothing badly triggering), child endangerment (mc was a child actor, again nothing badly triggering. if there is, there will be a warning)

NOTE: if you read this late… you’re stinky

TAGLIST (CLOSED): @parapiop7 @an-ever-angry-bi @softforyoongles @thenaverse @chansatlan @juju-227592 @skyys-universe @carolinexkpop @reallysparklychaos @namjooncrabs @savagemickey03 @drunkzseok @svnbangtansworld @2ne1unni

“I can’t stand this.”

Taehyung grunted out between punches, ignoring Namjoon’s stare on his back due to the fact he beating up a man that had said things to you online and offline.

Now, Taehyung was never one to resort to violence. He was always the calm one alongside Yoongi, but the thought of someone hating on you and threatening to do things to you to “shut you up” was enough for him to see red. So, he here was, having chosen a guy on your comments out of thousands, and beating him up until the skin of his knuckles tore.

“Taehyung, I understand you can’t come to terms with your own feelings, but leave the poor guy alone,” Namjoon said, though he didn’t mean his empathy. He did not care at all. He just didn’t want to cover up another dead body just because Taehyung couldn’t handle his emotions. “Taehyung.”

“I mean, she’s going to be gone in a year once her contract ends,” Taehyung continued to huff out. He stopped for a second to glance at the two men over his shoulder—Yoongi was there, too—before looking at the man hanging. “She’s going to be gone and here I am wanting to kiss her. Is that a bad thing?”

“N-no, sir,” the man stuttered out with blood coming out of his mouth.

Taehyung hummed, though he didn’t waste another second to go back to hitting the man again. “I mean, it’s not fair. What if after the one year contract ends, she leaves and we never see her again? I feel like I won’t be able to handle that, mentally.” Punch. “Am I going fucking crazy?”

“I have never seen him this beat up over something like this,” Yoongi muttered, running a hand over his hair. Namjoon hummed in agreement. “Should we be offended?”

The (still) pink-haired man shook his head. “I can speak for all of us that falling for another person was not in our cards.”

“Were we ever like this with one another?” Yoongi asked, eyeing the way the beat up man stopped fidgeting. His mouth was drooling out blood, face swollen, and nose bleeding. Yoongi knew so many would look at them crazily for not feeling sorry at all, but the man was not only spewing out such hatred words to you that it scared you, he was a dedicated troll online and would comment such absurd things to those of the other gender. “I know we were a bit like that because we didn’t even know much about relationships with more than one person.”

“All I know is that it’s more than just lust with Y/n,” Namjoon breathed out, a frown etched in his face at sharing his thoughts. He wasn’t one to be good with his feelings. He never liked sharing the story about his family, he never liked telling others he had a bad day, so for him to openly talk about you and how he felt about you was a little confusing. “I don’t know. I didn’t intend to fall for her at all. I have to put your guys’ feelings before me so I could step in if her feelings are nothing but a ploy for dragging down our reputation. Now I can’t even think and I can’t even form my own thoughts, my own opinions, without thinking about her.”

Yoongi could hear the slight defeated tone in Namjoon’s voice.

He understood the feeling too well.

Though Yoongi was the quietest of the seven, he loved being able to show his feeling through gestures. It’s a reason why he took care of you the most because he saw something in you that he saw in the 7; to be understood without being questioned.

“Taehyung, stop,” Yoongi demanded with a stern voice, passing him a handkerchief Jin had specifically created to get rid of blood stains. Yoongi glanced at some of his workers there that were specifically aimed to clean up after their mess. “Get rid of the body.”

“Yes, sir.”

The three walked away from the scene, simultaneously thinking about you.

What will happen in a year after the contract ends? They don’t know, but they hope you will still be there with them. If not as a lover, then a friend. You were pleasant to be around.

“Miss, they’re here,” Min-seo announced, opening your bedroom door.

You had been in bed for a while now and you blamed it on Hyung-min who didn’t want to take you downstairs. Jae had told him to do so and even threatened to carry you herself, but he didn’t budge. He was too scared to do anything to you in case he hurt you again (Namjoon scared him).

“Let them in.”

“Yes, miss.”

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung admired the rest of your house as they went up the stairs. They hadn’t seen much considering they were always in a hurry and were so busy to come bother you, but they loved seeing the decorations you had up. They especially loved the pictures of you as a child holding onto awards, a bright grin plastered on your face, clearly happy and satisfied for getting an award that showed your hard work. You were just a child.

“Really?” You raised a brow once they came into view. “Are these daily visits going to stop once I’m healed?”

“No,” Namjoon answered, voice soft yet stern. He sat on the edge of your bed, his hand going up to run the pad of his thumb over your swollen ankle. His brows furrowed for a second before it vanished in a blink of an eye to look at you. “How are you?”

“Im doing much better,” you said with a small smile.

You glanced at Taehyung and Yoongi, their facial expressions not changing and giving you a clue as to what they were feeling. You slightly puffed out your cheeks before humming.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, moving from his position beside Taehyung and coming to stand next to you. You waved him off. At noticing some white papers on your nightstand, he grabbed them, and read over the information given to you from your doctor. “You have low Vitamin D?”

“I don’t get enough sun,” you shrugged like it was nothing. “Before you three freak out, as soon as my ankle feels better I’m going on walks.”

“You should go with Jungkook and Namjoon on walks,” Taehyung piped in to suggest. “Jungkook takes his dog out for walks and Namjoon just like smelling the air.”

Namjoon scoffed at Taehyung’s words before turning to you. “It gets tiring being holed up in the office and a bunch of annoying workers just pestering and pestering. I need my walks.”

“I’ll go then,” you agreed, nodding your head. “Though, it’s been a while so if I get tired easily… not my fault. I usually love walks and you know, being able to be in my mind a lot more, but I’ve been feeling a bit lazy.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Namjoon reassured you, maintaining eye contact. You smiled at him and he gave you one, too. He sighed a bit and stood up to let his eyes run over your body to see if you had any more hidden injuries. Once he came to find nothing, he nodded. “Hyung-min called me.”

“Is that why he looked scared when he came to visit me?” You asked, arching a brow. Namjoon looked at the others and softly chuckled, not saying “yes” but not denying it either.

“We talked and he took my words wrong,” Namjoon answered with a shrug. “Not my fault.”

“Mhm, totally not your fault,” you echoed back to him, sarcasm dripping from your words. “But he has apologized. He has apologized to me, he didn’t do it on purpose, and that’s what should matter. Don’t go pestering him, either. He’s Jae’s boyfriend and Jae is my best friend so if you hurt him, you hurt her, and you hurt me. You wouldn’t want to hurt me.”

Yoongi felt the end of his lip curl up. “Oh, you’re good.” You smiled sheepishly at this words. “We won’t hurt him, Y/n. Just tell him that if he does something stupid again we won’t be so nice to him.”

“You mean, like, insulting him to hurt him, right?” No answer. “Right?”

“We’re going to be leaving,” Namjoon said, dodging your question. He stuck out his wrist to glance at this watch. “Yoongi and I have a meeting with some directors to talk about our project.”

“Do you really have to leave?” You breathed out that your words almost sounded like a whine. Namjoon stared at you.

The directors can function not having them there, right? No. They’re a bunch of idiots that just spewed a bunch of bullshit, and Namjoon did not trust them to go over the project he and Yoongi have been desperate to finish.

“As much as we’d love to stay—”

“I can stay,” Taehyung spoke up. He gave you a side glance. “I don’t have anything to do so if you want, I can keep you some company.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “That would be nice, Taehyung.” You turned to look at the two. “Are you going to come tomorrow with Jungkook and Jin? They want to cook something—”

“You do not want Namjoon there,” Yoongi said with a chuckle. Namjoon rolled his eyes. “He might be good at everything, but cooking is where we cross the line.”

“Are you that bad?” You winced at the idea of burnt overcooked and under cooked food.

“I burnt eggs one time and put a lot of salt, and suddenly it’s the end of the world,” Namjoon grumbled under his breath, putting on the blazer he had taken off and placed on his arm. “Anyway, we’ll try to come over tomorrow. But, just enjoy your time with the two. I know Hobi wants to come but he’s been busy with his work.”

“Oh, I know,” you said. “We’ve been texting.”

“You text?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded. “Yeah! He got worried and he apologized for not visiting me a lot, but that he’s busy with work, so we agreed to meet up sometime this week.”

“Yeah, he was looking forward to the dinner,” Namjoon noted, now knowing he can text you. “But, that’s done and you don’t need to worry about that.”

You snorted. “I won’t.”

He and Yoongi leaned over to hug you goodbye, whispering they’ll visit with Jungkook and Jin, but to not get disappointed if they don’t.

As they left, you turned to Taehyung who was quiet. He was always quiet and you wished to see the talkative side that was always on the news.

“What happened to your knuckles?” You softly asked, grabbing onto his hand rather carefully to not weird him out.

Taehyung extended his hand to display his fingers and softly scoffed. “I was boxing with Jungkook. Never again.”

“Thankfully, it doesn’t look too bad,” you mumbled under your breath, inspecting his bruised knuckles while tenderly touching them to see if he would react to that. “You need to ice them.”

Softly chuckling, he shook his head. “I didn’t know that staying here meant that I would get my personal doctor.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his hand away so he could feel the sting on his wounds. “I’m not helping you anymore then since you’re complaining.” You could hear the small laughs escaping his lips at your dramatics. “No. Go away now.”

“I’m kidding, Y/n,” Taehyung said, wrapping a hand over your bicep to bring you closer. “Act all doctor to me. Wrap my wound and kiss it better.”

You gaped at him after hearing his words. “Where has this Taehyung been? You were so quiet with them.”

“I get nervous talking to you around the others,” he admitted with a shrug. “I enjoy watching you interact, too, so I just love watching instead of butting in.”

“I love the fact that you are much more teasing like this,” you said with admission because you did like seeing this side of him. You had expected Yoongi to be the quietest, but he was very chatty with you and could maintain conversation. Taehyung was the quietest—around you—and you always wished you could see the side he showed to the media. “Also, do you not have boxing gloves? I feel like it could’ve prevented this terrible tear of skin.”

Taehyung blinked. “I just wanted to use my fists more in case I came to a situation where I need to use my bare hands. Either way, it’s not the first time I’ve taken boxing lessons without gloves.”

You stayed silent and he looked at your face to find an answer.

“You’re surprising me today, Taehyung.”

He stayed with you until 2 AM, much to your surprise.

It wasn’t that you begged him to stay, none of that. He just had trouble leaving you alone when you couldn’t even stand on your own two feet without stumbling away. What if someone broke in? He knew you had guards outside your home, working hard, but what if one of them accidentally fell asleep and left you vulnerable? Hell, no.

He couldn’t shake his concerns away even when he made it home.

“Did you beat up someone else?” Yoongi mused as he watched Taehyung walk pass his office.

Taehyung stopped in his footsteps at being talked to and turned to head inside Yoongi’s office. He sat in front of him, a sigh escaping his lips to depict his emotions. Though, Yoongi couldn’t identify what he was truly feeling.

Taehyung wasn’t one to let his feelings be shown very easily.

“We ate together and we watched a movie,” he breathed out in a hushed voice, almost as if talking loud would wake everyone in the house. “We laughed, we talked, I took care of her, and she took care of me.” He felt his throat clog up a bit due to the overwhelming feeling of falling deeper for a person he knew would be gone in a year. “You should’ve seen her, Yoongi. I have never seen her laugh as hard as she did when we were watching her favorite movie and it just… It brought me such happiness at hearing that.”

Yoongi stayed silent and watched him struggle to form his thoughts. He smiled. “You need to process you’re in love with her.”

“But, she’ll be gone.”

“Unless we let her slip away from us that easily,” Yoongi said in hopes to reassure him. “We have enough time with her, either way. We have months—”

“It’s not enough,” Taehyung shook his head.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi started, clasping his hands together to have a serious conversation with the raven-haired boy, “you need to stop letting your past get to you into thinking someone you get close with is going to abandon you. Even if Y/n doesn’t like us then guess what? She’ll be our friend. She’s not the type of person to just leave. Get to know her and when the time comes, then we’ll talk to her about our feelings, okay?”

“Our feelings?” Taehyung frowned with glossy eyes.

Yoongi shrugged and looked down at his phone.

“She won’t leave.”

< before - after >

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themagicafox · 11 days ago

Text

Hogwarts AU: Slytherin Rafayel and Sylus Headcanons

I'm not a professional ficwriter, I’m just having fun

English is not my first language; sorry for the grammar mistakes

Maybe I`ll do part 2 if someone likes it and wants more

@peacedreamer14 I promised drawings but I am busy at uni right now and don't have enough time, but it’ll come!!

I hope someone will like it \ (•◡•) /

Sylus

Smug, calm, and prideful, but never seeks fights with others—he’s too above it. He doesn’t care about the common rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin unless it affects him directly. But no one wants to fight him anyway

He is an excellent student. Favorite subject is Defense Against the Dark Arts. He also mastered the Apparition spell at a young age

Sylus can cast spells without a wand

Mephisto as his companion animal that can mimic speech. Sylus takes great pleasure in watching people jump in fear when Mephisto speaks in a devilish voice out of nowhere

Has declined every offer to join the Quidditch team

His favorite activity is annoying Rafayel

“Oh no, your girlfriends ran away,” he said after releasing toads from Rafayel’s terrarium

Once, he changed Rafayel’s hair color to pink by adding a potion to his shampoo in the bathroom

“What? It suits you, charm boy”

He would never admit that Rafayel is his only friend actually

“Friend? I barely remember his name”

Sylus has sensitive eyes. During a duel with Xavier, he almost lost due to a surprisingly strong light spell

“Professor! That’s cheating, oi!”

“Hey, don’t embarrass me”

“You’re the only one embarrassing yourself and Slytherin. Get up and beat him like you know, jerk”

Sylus goes to bed only after everyone else is asleep. He often sneaks into the Restricted Section of the library, which leads to frequent arguments with Ravenclaw prefect Zayne, who always catches him

“I thought I told you not to roam around at night”

“Sincerely sorry, but I don’t believe I’m under your command. Anyway, I was already heading to my room”

Sylus is a mystery. No one knows much about him. Is he pureblood? Who is his family? How rich is he?! (His entire demeanor screams “beyond rich”)

No one gets close to him except for Rafayel and MC

Sylus and Rafayel often fall asleep in class due to their late-night antics

He absolutely hates Zayne and Xavier because they’re too close to MC

“You know, even you don’t annoy me as much as those two,”

“Mutual”

After working together perfectly on pranks or mischiefs, they instantly start fighting again

“That’s enough teamwork for today with a sly half-blood crow”

“Come again, mermaid misunderstanding”

Rafayel

Very popular among students, Rafayel comes from a famous, wealthy pureblood family

Naturally talented in magic, his favorite class is Transfiguration

He despises worn books, cheap clothes, and people who don’t take care of their appearance

His custom wand cost as much as a new brand car, but he insisted on designing it with mermaid hair and black pearls

He helps restore Hogwarts’ old paintings in his free time

Once, Rafayel saved a group of first-years from mermaids in the Black Lake

“Idiots! What were you thinking? Ugh, I think I’m dying. Now you owe me your lives until graduation”

Rafayel spends way too much time in the bathroom, which annoys Sylus, who also likes his showers

There’s endless competition between him and Sylus in everything: academics, wealth, and even MC’s attention

He once bought the entire Slytherin Quidditch team new brooms just to show off in front of Sylus

MC often has to step in to prevent their heated arguments from escalating into full-blown duels in the common room

Rafayel gets visibly irritated whenever MC compliments someone else’s skills

Extremely protective of Slytherin’s honor, he’ll often team up with Sylus (if he is in the mood, of course) to humiliate Gryffindor or Ravenclaw students who insult their house

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Give me a minute; I’ll get closer,” Sylus says, lifting a student he’s just transfigured into a rabbit up to his ear. “Still nothing. Rafayel, care to try?” Rafayel approaches with an exaggerated, theatrical expression, nodding and humming as though he understands the rabbit’s trembling squeaks

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus #lads sylus #sylus x mc #lads #rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel x mc #hogwarts au #slytherin #lads fanfic

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matchavellichor · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I hope your day is going well when you read this!! I know you said you were currently taking a slight break from writing due to school, and first of all, I'm wishing you the very best of your studies! But I thought I would send a request just in case you do resume writing fics in the future, but feel free to ignore this! This seems a bit plain, but I was wondering if you could write an ominis x fmc where mc is terribly shy and avoidant to no one but ominis due to her feelings for him? Over time, though, Ominis observes her personality when interacting with other people, becoming fond of her but is left conflicted seeing how nervous she is around him, leaving him to wonder if she hates him or not. Since Ominis can’t see MC staring at him or how her cheeks go red around him, we could perhaps have Sebastian take note of this and act like the typical tease-playing wingman to set Ominis and MC up? It’s a pretty fluffy request, but you can lead it down any road you want, whether it turns out suggestively or not.

A/N: hi!!! tysm for the kindness <3 uni is still kind of hectic at the moment unfort, but i LOVED this idea sm so i decided to write a lil something anyway. ty for the request, hope you enjoy!

Great Expectations

Ominis x f!MC - Fluff - 3k words

Summary: Urged on by Sebastian's insistence that the reason for MC's evasiveness is that she harbors a secret crush, Ominis decides to take Sebastian's advice and find this out for himself.

Tags: Miscommunication, Wingman Sebastian, Clueless Ominis, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Banter, First Kiss

"Some light reading?"

Ominis can sense the way she startles, nearly dropping the tall stack of books balanced carefully in her arms.

“Oh, uh…hello, Ominis,” she greets as she rights herself, voice oddly tight. “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

“Always am. The library’s practically my second home at this point,” he smiles warmly, making some attempt at small talk.

There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat to break the silence. “I uh, I hadn’t realized you were such an avid reader yourself,” he tilts his head, waving his wand over the topmost title in her pile. “Ah, and you have taste! Dickens is brilliant. I’d love to pick your brain sometime about—”

“I apologize, if—you’ll um, if you’ll excuse me,” she suddenly interrupts, eyes trained at her feet, before she’s brushing past him in the tight corridor of shelves and exiting towards one of the more populated corners of the library.

Ominis frowns, brows knitting together in confusion and what’s beginning to morph into genuine offense at this point.

“Was it something I said?” he mutters under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ever since they had become acquaintances, any attempts at amicability on his part had been met with brisk dismissals, curt replies, and her avoiding him like the plague. At first he thought her simply timid, but after observing her behavior with the likes of Sebastian or Garreth or any of her other friends, Ominis had been seriously considering some innate character flaw of his own.

He had thought he had made some progress in their relationship at the last gathering they had frequented, a weekend get-together in the Slytherin common room, but it was quickly becoming apparent that he’d been sorely mistaken.

Was he really so unapproachable? Dreadfully unlikeable? Did she simply have no interest in befriending him?

Ominis tries to pretend his ego isn't bruised by this notion, but fails miserably when his brain wanders to more woeful reasons as to why she would want nothing to do with him. His family’s notoriety and the rumors surrounding his person that are frequently pedaled around the castle undoubtedly have already reached her ears.

Filled with a strange sense of defeat, Ominis abandons any of his original plans of reading in favor of sulking in the common room alone. Less than two steps towards the library exit, however, and he’s bombarded by Sebastian.

“Ominis, you sly dog, don’t think I didn’t see you two warming up in the back shelves,” he grins, poking his friend in the ribs and waggling his brows.

Ominis frowns, swatting at the brunette’s hand. “Warming up is certainly not the term I would use. She despises me.”

“Despises you? Are you blind?”

“...Yes?”

“I refuse to believe you’re that blind,” Sebastian amends, scoffing. “Don’t tell me you really haven’t noticed.”

“Noticed what? The way she can’t bear to spend longer than a minute around me?” Ominis grumbles. “Trust me, I’m well aware.”

“Oh Gods, you’re just as hopeless as she is,” Sebastian groans, deeply pained. “She doesn’t despise you, she’s head over heels, Ominis,” he leans in with an all-too smug tone. “Take it from a man who knows the ladies.”

Ominis turns his head over his shoulder as if in search. “And, pray tell, where is this man?”

He receives an indignant smack on the arm. “I’m serious! Trust me, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. I mean, why do you think she’s always so nervous around you?”

“She probably thinks I’m going to curse her or something,” Ominis mutters. “My reputation isn’t exactly the nicest, Sebastian. Are you forgetting who my family is?”

Sebastian barks out a laugh. “I’m sorry, Ominis, but anyone who takes even a second out of their day to speak to you will know you’re incapable of harming a lacewing fly. Trust me on this, she likes you.”

Ominis pauses for a moment, considering the possibility that had never before crossed his mind before. An involuntary warmth spreads over his skin, surfacing all kinds of unbidden feelings he doesn’t have much experience in handling. Noticing his contemplative silence, Sebastian peeks at the blonde.

“Oh, Salazar, you’re blushing,” he gasps, no small amount of delight seeping through his tone. “You know, for a while I was half-convinced you were incapable of it. Me and Garreth actually had a bet that were half-vamp—”

Ominis scowls, pushing Sebastian’s fingers away from where they were currently trying to prod at his flushed cheeks. “I am not blushing. Look, this whole notion is ridiculous, even for you, Sebastian. She can barely tolerate me, much less harbor some crush on me.”

“Fine,” Sebastian shrugs, feigning acquiescence. “Then flirt with her. See what happens, and if she truly despises you as you say, then no harm, no foul.”

Ominis sputters. “I will not flirt with her, don’t be absurd.”

“Why not? If you already believe she hates you, what do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? My already maimed ego? You’ve seen her in Defence against the Dark Arts, if we’re being realistic I’m probably in risk of breaking a couple bones as well—”

“Ominis, just try,” Sebastian groans, looking ready to rip his hair out. “If you don’t, I’m marching right back into that library and flirting with her for you.”

Immediately, memories of Sebastian’s past trysts with women and the sheer amount of crudeness in even his most tame chat-up lines come to mind. Ominis panics. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, we both know I would,” Sebastian grins, stopping in his tracks and turning back towards the library doors. “Remember that one boiling cauldron line Garreth taught me? I’ll go up and tell her you begged me to use it for you—”

“Stop, stop, alright,” Ominis grits, fisting a hand in the back of Sebastian’s robes to pull him back. He sighs. “I’ll….I’ll speak to her, alright?”

Sebastian claps a hand over his shoulder, pleased. “That’s the spirit.”

As much as Ominis would have liked to postpone the inevitable as much as possible, fate was not on his side. He had the misfortune of running into her while on his way to the Great Hall for dinner, and with Sebastian by his side, he would have no chance of escape.

After urging his friend on with not so friendly threats, Sebastian made himself scarce, though undoubtedly somewhere within earshot so he could listen to disaster unfold.

“Just the person I was looking for,” he greets with as much warmth as he can manage, though his nerves are broiling a storm in his gut. “Have you gotten in any good reading today?”

Once again, she seems startled by his presence. “You were…looking for me?”

“Well, yes. I was wondering if I might accompany you to dinner?” he smiles. “Would give me a chance to bore you with my fascination with muggle literature.”

“Oh,” her eyes widen, looking almost excited before it’s washed over with anxiety. “I’m sorry, I uh, I wasn’t…going to dinner.”

“Oh,” Ominis frowns, noting how close they were to the Great Hall. “Where were you heading then?”

“The library,” she blurts out and Ominis tilts his head in confusion.

“But the library’s in the opposite direction,” he nods over his shoulder. “And haven’t you just come back from there?”

“I–I have to go,” she says, suddenly swiveling in the other direction and brushing past him. “Apologies.”

Once again, Ominis is left perplexed, and increasingly hurt. The only thing the interaction has done is given him a bigger headache, her behavior irrational in the face of Sebastian’s theory. Ominis finds himself even more convinced she hates his guts.

As if on cue, Sebastian ducks out from behind a tapestry shielding an alcove, an almost pained sort of grimace on his face.

“That was…bad.”

“Understatement of the year,” Ominis groans. “Do you see what I mean? She clearly doesn’t like me, Sebastian. All I’ve done is made a bigger fool of myself.”

“She’s nervous, Ominis. She was blushing the entire interaction. Look, maybe try being more direct? Girls like confidence! Tell her you will spend time with her and that you won’t take no for an answer.”

Ominis blinks at him. “Are you trying to get my bollocks hexed off?”

“While that would be deeply amusing, no,” Sebastian assures. “Look, she’s clearly just too shy to let herself spend time with you, that’s why she runs away. You can’t give her a way out, hell, incarcerous her if you have to.”

Ominis looks genuinely concerned for any women that have had the terrible misfortune of being the objects of Sebastian’s romantic interest. “How you’ve not found yourself in Azkaban yet amazes me.”

“Oh, shush,” he scowls before suddenly snapping his fingers, metaphorical lightbulb lighting up his face. “I’ve got it! Remember how Sharp gave her detention this weekend for sneaking ingredients for Garreth? Just muck something up tomorrow in Potions, and done! She’ll be forced to spend a whole evening with you.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“It’s brilliant,” Sebastian grins, far too proud of himself. “Everyone knows detention is the best place to snog.”

Ominis chokes. “There will be no snogging—”

“Oh, got bigger plans in mind, have you? Ominis, you dirty little devil—”

The tips of his ears burning bright-red, Ominis pushes through the entrance doors to the Great Hall before Sebastian can get another word in, thanking Merlin she’d foregone dinner tonight.

While sprinkling some erumpent horn powder in Sharp’s cauldron during a practical demonstration was easier than he’d thought, actually having to go to detention the upcoming Saturday evening was not.

Pacing his dorm room anxiously while he counts down the hours until he has to make his way down to the Potions classroom, Ominis can’t help but be besmirched by his own stupidity at how he inevitably let Sebastian talk him into this.

Like the devil, Sebastian pokes his head through the door, not even bothering to knock. He plops himself down on one of the beds, eyeing the blonde with poorly-concealed bewilderment. “What are you so strung up for?”

“Not helping,” he glowers. “What if she runs away again?”

“Relax, would you?” Sebastian rolls his eyes, standing to walk over and muss the blonde’s hair. Ominis scowls and swats at his friend, but Sebastian is nothing if not stubborn, pulling at Ominis’ neatly folded uniform tie until it drapes messily around his neck.

“Perfect,” he grins, standing back to examine his work.

Ominis frowns, attempting with great futility to smooth his hair back into place. “I look like a delinquent.”

“How would you know?” Sebastian raises a brow. “You look great. Girls like a bit of a bad boy, you know. And after your stunt in Sharp’s class you’re certainly starting to build a reputation.”

“You were the one who told me to do it!”

“I told you to get yourself detention, not cause a minor explosion.”

Waving a wand over his wristwatch to check the time, Ominis’ pulse doubles when he realizes he has to be in Sharp’s classroom in a few minutes.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Sebastian is dragging him out the door, blabbering terrible advice as if he’s sending his friend off to a first date and not detention with a grouchy Potions master.

“—And most importantly of all, compliment her, Ominis. I know you’re not very expressive, but for the love of Merlin, tell her she looks nice,” he practically shoves the blonde through the common room door, adding a final, “have fun! Use the contraceptive charm!”

Ominis is promptly left alone in the dimly-lit corridor, a heat involuntarily rising to his cheeks, praying some greater force will strike him down before he has to humiliate himself any further.

The classroom is empty when he finally arrives a few minutes behind schedule, except for where he inevitably finds her scrubbing cauldrons in the back of the room. She tenses when he approaches, but doesn’t startle when he greets her this time. Ominis wonders if he can put it down as progress.

“Sharp asked me to tell you we’re not allowed to use magic,” she nods towards the stack of cauldrons perched on the workspace. “And, um that we’re only to bother him if someone’s bleeding, dying, or dead.”

Ominis nods, pointedly taking the space beside her and dragging one of the soot-covered cauldrons towards him to begin working.

There’s a tension between them that Ominis can’t ignore for the life of him, only the sound of scrubbing to cut through the painstaking silence. After a few unbearable moments, he clears his throat, remembering Sebastian’s advice.

“You look nice tonight,” he attempts, though his voice sounds oddly thick with nerves.

The sound of scrubbing stops. “Sorry?”

“I said you uh, you look very nice,” he attempts with more firmness, though his hands are white-knuckled around the edge of the table to stop himself from bolting from the mortification.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“What?” he asks perplexed, forgetting momentarily a crucial reason as to why the compliment would seem absurd coming from him. “Oh dear Merlin, no, no that’s not how I meant it all.”

“Very funny, Ominis,” she takes in a sharp breath, dropping the brush with a dull clatter into the cauldron before she crosses her arms and faces him, all timidness suddenly replaced by a glaring frustration in her tone. Ominis isn't sure if it's an improvement, but at least she’s talking to him. “Did Sebastian put you up to this?”

“Sebastian? What? Of course not,” he sputters, desperately trying to amend. “I— Look, I’m—I’m sorry. Can I start over? Please?”

She raises an expectant eyebrow.

“You don’t look nice,” he tries, trying to suppress the wince that washes over his features. His only consolance is that Sebastian isn’t here to witness any of it. “I’m sorry, no—that’s not—I meant, I’m sure you do look nice, not that I would…know, but,” he runs a hand over his face, certain that if she didn't hate him before, she certainly does now. “I meant, you smell very nice. That I can tell, you…you smell very lovely, actually.”

There’s a long pause where she simply stares at him before her frustration inevitably only seems to double. “Is this what you find entertaining?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re taunting me,” she seethes. “You obviously know what I feel for you and now you’re making fun of me for it, aren’t you? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“What? Salazar, no, that’s not it at all—”

“Truly hilarious,” she scoffs, shaking her head. “Very mature. Maybe try being more subtle—”

“That’s not what I’m—”

“You can stop pretending you want to hang out with me all the time now—”

“Will you listen? I’m not—”

“Next time, if you don’t feel the same way, then simply—hmpph!”

Despite the blaring alarm bells that should be going off in Ominis’ head for doing something so painfully impulsive to someone who could hex his entire bloodline in the time it takes her to take out her wand, his mind blanks out into a puddle of warmth as he crashes his lips to hers.

She freezes, mouth unmoving against his in the time it takes awareness to seep into her brain and for her to realize he’s kissing her.

To his relief, when the realization does set in, she kisses him back.

She seems to melt just as much as Ominis, her body instinctively leaning into his, hands going slack at her sides before they instinctively come to hold at his forearms where he’s cradling her face so she can’t pull away.

Ominis pulls him towards her, and then, urged on by some coiling heat inside of him he’s admittedly not too familiar with, he crowds her against the workspace. He nearly topples over several cauldrons in his franticness to deepen the kiss, muttering sheepish apologies through heavy breaths, but he’s far too consumed to feel embarrassed.

His lips on hers are clumsy and impatient, and maybe far too hungry for a first kiss, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her hands come up to thread through his hair, to drag down his scalp, and Ominis couldn’t stop the groan that leaves him if he had all the composure in the world.

He’s so far gone he doesn’t even care about all the soot they’re getting on each other, too preoccupied with trying to keep his knees from buckling, to press his body even more against hers as if it’s the greatest offense known to history that they’re not physically molded to one another. When he slots a thigh between her legs and she lets out a little noise against his mouth, he thinks he might just collapse.

Ominis skin feels hot to the touch, nerves prickling with want, with the urge to touch and taste and grind until he goes numb. She finally breaks the kiss, panting heavily against his mouth, eyes glazed over with just as much raw need. Though the loss is almost physically painful, Ominis is grateful for small mercies, because he was a few seconds away from tearing through her uniform top.

“You’re…” she swallows, trying to clear the breathlessness from her voice. “Uh, very committed to the bit, I suppose.”

Ominis can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

His shoulders shake, forehead dropping to meet hers, and when he glances back up he smiles, lips still raw and undoubtedly kiss-bruised. She returns his grin, until he can feel her smile against his mouth when he leans down to press his lips to hers again, because he simply can’t help himself.

They barely register the sound of the door to the professor’s office swinging open. Only when he clears his throat do they finally tear apart, and Ominis wonders if it’s possible to drop dead from sheer mortification.

Sharp lets out a long-suffering sigh, as if he’s accustomed to walking in on much, much worse by now and his hardly fazed.

“Just get the cauldrons clean,” he grumbles, grabbing a few texts on one of the adjacent tables. He hobbles back to the door, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. “Bloody teenagers and hormones, don’t get paid enough for this shit…”

He ducks his head out before closing the door, pointing a stern finger in their direction. “And not on my tables.”

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis x you #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x reader #fluff #hogwarts legacy fanfic

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kii-nami · 3 days ago

Text

WHITE COMET'S DESCENT | IL CAPITANO

You never state for what reason you are holding him back, but it is already obvious. The Commander of the Khaenri’ahn army went missing with one swift strike of the starbound ice. You don’t seem to think of people as disposable yet cannot bring yourself to warm the snake’s nest willingly. Thrain shares the sentiment: he has never been a fan of holding his enemies closer than his friends. And despite your peculiar character, this is definitely something Thrain cannot fault you for. Queen [Name] Einherjar is incapable of trusting even herself. He fears that one day it can become your downfall. He accepts the position with no hesitation, yet it does not save either of you from damnation.

CW: 9K WORDS; PART TWO OF TWO; FEM!MC; MADE-UP KHAENRI'AHN LORE; OCS MENTIONED; PART OF A WIDER GENSHIN AU BY ME AND MY FRIEND; INCLUDES A NECESSARY MAVUIKA NERF; IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS FEEL FREE TO ASK, I NEED TO RANT ABOUT HOW THEY BUTCHERED NATLAN

His lady cannot die, as she buried her own mortal flesh under the Sea of Flowers at the End a very long time ago.

It takes five years of your companionship and the watchful eye of the Crimson Moon for Thrain to learn that you do not deem yourself a living being. You have died twice and twice you’ve been reborn as someone else in a corpse of the white comet long faded. And now, the rapidly evaporating ice that makes up your body is all they can ever have.

Not that they will have anything at all for much longer.

You entrusted him with Saga’s life. Ordered to accompany her, Lumine and Alice through the collapsing terrains to the closest gate that can take them up above. Whatever is in the box the witch forced him to carry, Thrain doesn’t know and does not dare ask. Not that he is able to complete his mission, as halfway through their journey Alice, startled by Skirk’s sudden appearance, orders him to immediately return to the palace. In all honesty, Thrain has no right to comply with Red Witch’s demands; your word will always weigh more especially under such circumstances. Yet something in the way their hushed, tense conversation seems to be moved more by the inconspicuous glances than the careful choice of words that makes Thrain stop questioning Alice’s choice.

Lumine departs with him, lips tightly pressed together and strained muscles stonier than usual. They never truly got to know each other, so the silence is a bit overwhelming right until the point Twilight Sword appears, barricading their path. Distraught and somehow guilty, Dainsleif tries offering his side of the story. Lumine unsheathes her sword without much of a word, just throwing a nod towards the desolate, floating island to the west of the royal palace. Then she strikes first.

Whatever happens next Thrain does not know. Those closest to you wish for someone to return to your side no matter what, and if it so happens that they can’t do so anymore, then he will become that person in their stead.

When Thrain arrives at the Einherjar family’s burial grounds, his platoon is already waiting for him. Anxious and horrified, they scurry to let him pass to the entrance of the building. The air of the royal tomb is dry yet heavy, the marble and diamond follow his every step, vacant eyes of the statues watching him pass by. You are nowhere to be found but the dull light flickering at the end of the dimly lit corridor is guiding Thrain in the right direction. He stops at the heavy doors, creaked ajar just enough for a person to barely slip in and slides it fully open.

“Princess Saga has departed safely, along with Lady Alice and the box.” Thrain enters Lady [Name]’s crypt without announcing his presence. You can hear his footsteps, for better or for worse, and he guesses there isn’t much time to abide by etiquette now that the sky is falling.

As if expecting him, you are already facing the entrance with your misty eyes gazing right through him, “I am glad.” You say, hastily turning away. “What about Lumine?”

The Bough which crowns your head looks particularly heavy when you take it off and place it on Lady [Name]’s tomb. No headpiece and no extravagant braids, no diamonds woven into your hair and no flowing silks or sheer tulles clinging to your skin. You look more like a soldier than a royal, yet something in the way your shoulders quiver under the weight of your cape prevents Thrain from forgetting that you are, in fact, a queen. His lady. Now and until the memory of this world fades away.

“The last I’ve seen of her, she deserted…” Thrain cuts himself off, picking and choosing what is better suited to say to you in this moment. Watching your hand trembling on top of the stone of the first princess’ tomb, Thrain is sure that any careless word will surely send you spiraling. “To engage in battle with the former Captain of the Royal Guard, my lady.”

He must have made the right choice for once, and you huff. “Whatever helps her sleep at night.” Unclasping your cape, you throw it mindlessly onto the marble casket and face him once more, this time focusing on Thrain instead of the horrors hiding behind his back. A second of silence. Then another. With unblinking eyes, you unapologetically stare at Thrain as if you were seeing him for the first time in your life. And when you address him at last, there is a foreboding sense of finality laced into your tone, “Commander, I wish to formally dismiss you from your duties. You and your platoon may leave this place for good.”

Thrain expected as much. It is evident in the way you sent all those dear to you away long before the ground started shaking. It’s not even a bit surprising now that everything is done you are trying to push him away as well. And Thrain is a knight first and foremost, he was taught to never question any orders and follow them with no complaints even if it is only death that waits him when it’s all over. Yet here you are, relieving Thrain of his duty so he can preserve his life. A life that is not of equal value to that of a queen. A life that to you is far more precious than that of your own self.

Hands crossed over his chest, Thrain rewrites fate of this world for the worst, “I am afraid I must decline your offer, my lady.”

It is not something Thrain says after weighing all his options, but something that happens on its own, with not much thought yet with all the urgency of the collapsing ground below your feet. Your death would mark the loss of the Plane of Fólkvangr, and with the world as he knew it no longer existing, there is no point in preserving his life if the souls in his restless heart have no place to return to.

“That is not a suggestion, that is an order, Sentinel Knight.” Your voice is firm and icy, leaving no room for arguments. “Abandon Khaenri’ah, there is no hope left here.”

Only it is not an argument, never was and never will be. Thrain is a man of honor before he is a soldier, or a knight, or even something as primitive as a simple human. Abandoning you to fight on your own means abandoning the code of honor. Abandoning his beliefs means abandoning the memories of those whose will Thrain is carrying with him wherever he goes. And you are right, people like you and him are not allowed to forget.

“I am afraid I cannot do that, my lady.” Thrain declines once more, this time more deadpan than the last.

You huff, exasperated, accusatory finger pressed against the metal armor of his chest plate, right where his heart is. “Why, of all times, it is now that you decide to be difficult with me, Thrain?”

“I have never been exceptionally easy for you to deal with, my lady.” It is not the best of ideas to prolong this conversation. The world is quaking, the crimson skies burn with celestial blight, and your game of chess has finally come to its end. You always knew something that others didn’t, and you still hold something up your sleeve even with all your cards spread on the table. And if this something is your third death, then this time around it would be not as lonely as those two that came before. “Nobody should ever die alone.”

“Nobody will die.” You snap, knuckles knocking against the metal with a thud that oddly resembles drums. “You will live to fight another day.”

Your lies, as impressive as they usually are, fall flat this time around. Thrain reaches for your hand; some lines have long been blurred enough for it to seem like the only appropriate thing to do. Even with the leather separating your skin, you are freezing. Colder than you have ever been, as doomed as the time he saw you for the first time: dripping blood and diamonds, with no future ahead of you except the one that spells your death date in the slowly fading stars.

Somewhere on the mainland an explosion convulses the realm just as he lifts the palm of your hand to press a chaste kiss on top of the black leather covering it, “I never thought you for a liar.”

“Then you have never thought of me enough.” A joke, as amusing as it could have been at any other time, is still a lie no matter what. “Please don’t make this harder for me.”

And Thrain is sure he should have thought of you a bit less than he did, it would have been more appropriate that way. It would not have gotten him here, however, so Thrain cannot regret the thoughts that crossed his mind in those long five years of knowing you.

A woman of no shortcomings, you never weep. Yet as you hesitantly lean against his chest, face once again hidden from the world you love more than life itself, Thrain can’t help but wrap his arm around your shoulders carefully. Allowing you a moment of weakness before your final endeavor of resilience may be the only thing he can offer you, but what is that if not his duty?

Your breathing is erratic, you shiver every time you hear another slab of ground collapse into abyss, yet you never shed a tear. You move away from him on your own, only when some warmth seeped into your bones, and the sorrow on your face is so unbounded, Thrain finally understands why you hide yourself so. You’ve finally given up.

“What is our next course of action?” It’s just you, Thrain and the platoon he ordered to stay back to protect you, not trusting a single person from the royal guard after the reveal of Dainsleif’s betrayal. It is nowhere near enough to protect everyone, but neither does he expect to do so. Defeat is inevitable; now it is simply the matter of how you meet your end.

You frown, still clearly apprehensive about his disobedience, yet answer anyway, “I will cleanse as much of abyssal corruption as my body can allow. Then I shall engage the demon gods. So you must leave.”

The desperation in your voice is almost enough to convince him. Were Thrain anyone else, he probably would have abided by your final wish. He isn’t, so he doesn’t. With countless souls in the crevices of his modified heart, he met death face to face more times than he can count. He isn’t afraid of dying once more, this time by your side. Maybe this way you all can reach the Plane of Fólkvangr together.

“Put your trust in me to watch your back.” Thrain wonders if anyone ever told you that you have done well with what you were given. Whether your bloodied efforts and sleepless nights were appreciated. If someone ever reminded you that there is more to life than that tall wall of ice you have built to separate yourself from this world. If so, they did a poor job. If not, then he shall be the first. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Arms limp at your sides, your mismatched eyes still begging him to leave, “What kind of queen would I be, willingly letting her people walk into a decade long plan of treachery instead of shouldering it all by herself?”

You don’t get it, but Thrain can’t truly blame you for it. He too, is used to perceiving his life as duty. For those like you and him, who are strong, it is easier to embrace the burden than let another, weaker person, carry it for you. But he wasn’t born into a lie and neither did he choose to live in it willingly, Thrain knows how to trust his people. You, despite all your efforts, never truly learned how. And that is precisely why you couldn’t see Dainsleif’s true intentions. For you never really trusted him, so you never truly knew him. And he took full advantage of it.

“The one which knew her people stood with her till the very end.” The answer is simple, and even if you think your people despise you now for letting the skies catch fire, Thrain knows it to be false. “A human one.”

“I am a weapon.” You defend your lies with teeth bared and winds raging.

“You are a woman.” Thrain’s truth is as harsh as the cold radiating off your body. “You loved him, and he betrayed you.”

Shaking diamonds of your pupils, you take a guarded step back. You must realize who he is talking about, because your manic laughter forces all the air out of your lungs until tears pool in the corners of your eyes. “Oh, how scandalous.” You muse, a teasing lull to your vowels, “You have learned all about court drama, haven’t you?”

“Only what you taught me.” And you taught him a lot, so Alice has no way to cling to his poor choice of words. Assured Gold can never hold anything against him even with his life being all but in the palm of her brilliant hand. You’ve blinded Vedrfolnir and colored Thrain just the right shade of royal grey for Surtalogi to find him unappealing. You may have dragged him into the life of danger far greater than even that of a demon god, but you have never left him to fend for himself with only the voices of the dead ringing in his ears. That alone is worth a lot more to Thrain than you could ever truly grasp. “I will stay. Whether you want it or not. That’s my duty, not as the Commander but as your trusted friend.”

“I asked you to make things easier for me, not to complicate them even more.” You sigh, heavy and breathless, then you close your eyes. When you gaze at him once more, Thrain knows things will never be the same again. “Those of us who have already escaped will see the sun; those who remained will meet their forever end under the Crimson Moon.” Whatever you decide to do next, it won’t change the outcome of the game you’re playing. Death is unavoidable. Yet as you extend your hand to him, Thrain can’t help but hope. And hope is a thing far too misleading. “Come, my friend, the nation only falls when the last of its people is dead. Khaenri’ah will live in their memories.”

The six eyes follow your every move as you step out of the crypts. Not even once do you spare the Shade of Death a glance. Head held high, you move ahead to your final resting place. And as the ground beneath his feet trembles with god-made quakes, Thrain crosses the line once more.

“What has she done?” A question so innocent in nature, it could tear the veil of sin all over again.

“Complicated things.” The crimson of celestial retribution clings to your body as if it met someone it dearly missed. You welcome it into the Blade of Fólkvangr, the sharpened edge pointed at the skies, “And I am about to exploit that.”

The horizon burns with a peculiar kind of flame Thrain has never seen before. You march there with conviction of someone who has nothing to lose. The transparent crown above your head is shimmering with the glow of a thousand stars. When he notices the protection of your unwavering will is extended to him as well, it is already too late.

It is the last time Thrain thinks of death as a punishment.

La Innamorata masks her true intentions even under the watchful eyes of those most ignorant of the truth.

A lot can change in 500 years, yet nothing can uproot your masterfully disguised sorrows. There is something hopelessly disheartening in the way Thrain, too, learns to hide the truth behind the most mundane of conversations.

Although it is only Thrain and Saga who seem to be exempt from volunteer work, recently you’ve taken a liking to forcing the Harbingers to do some meaningless manual labor.

The old man Alberich is tasked with carving some chess pieces; a pointless thing it seems to be as you never end up satisfied with the finished project. The nameless puppet, rescued from the grasp of the crazed Doctor, is forced to look after the stray cat you took in on a whim one day. Zandik himself, is exiled into his lab with a pile of your journals.

Even now Rosalyne is rearranging the bookshelves in the precise way you instructed her to; she is rightfully confused about your ever-growing collection of fairytales but never dares to complain. Peruere, the unwilling recruit in the place of late Crucabena, is trying to tend to your flowers although her success rate isn’t all that high. Artificially made they may be, yet they die as any other. Although you don’t look all that burdened by the loss of your hard work.

“They died today.” You state absentmindedly, bringing his attention from the empty flowerpots back to you. “The winter is particularly harsh this year.”

Peruere throws you a quick glance, most likely the culprit behind the wilted flowers. The girl, as much of a blank slate as she may seem, is extremely sensitive in the most disconnected of ways. A survivor of the Crimson Moon dynasty; she’s young, misguided, and extremely powerful. A combination which you favor and are not afraid to use to your advantage. She may not be young enough for you to raise into the perfect heir to your ideals, but she is old enough to understand that those who have nothing to lose are the most terrifying.

In Thain’s opinion, you seem to baby her a little too much. But then again, isn’t love both one’s strongest weapon and their greatest weakness?

“Your sorrow wilts those flowers, my friend.” He plays along, Peruere’s shoulders relax just enough for her to not be stone stiff under the pressure of failure.

“I do not weep for that which I do not yearn for.” You examine the black obsidian pawn in your hands – one of Alberich’s creations that you deemed not suitable enough – and finally finish setting up the board. “And I am not particularly attached to windwheel asters, Thrain.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it, [Name].” Thrain takes it as his cue to make a move, carefully taking the white marble piece in his hand. “What happened in Natlan that made you return empty-handed?”

From the other side of your office, Rosalyne is watching your reflection in the mirror. For as long as Thrain knew her, she was always a fan of gossip. Something like this definitely caught her eye, and despite it not being an official discussion meant for her to hear, you indulge her in it. Something tells Thrain that you pity the woman. Something, if true, won’t surprise him one bit. Considering she became what she is now as a direct cause of Teyvat’s meddling with Khaenri’ahn practices long abandoned even by those strong enough to withstand them, you must feel responsible for her in a way. Which always spells trouble.

If you aren’t careful, your soft spot for humanity might just be the end of you. It was once. It will happen again.

As if proving his point, you give Thrain a pointed look. “We are better than those who took our home away from us.”

Or what would have been a pointed look if he could actually see your face at all. No diamonds or tulles, just ancient moon's remnants and the divine nail rabble melted together into a mask you almost never take off. Not that Thrain himself is any different. Ronova’s wrath latched onto the two of you for reasons he can never dare bring up. What is the point of rubbing salt on the wounds most tender?

“I am well aware.” The words come out a little more deadpan than he intended, you pretend like you don’t notice. “That doesn’t explain your oppressive melancholy.” Rosalyne’s skeptical brow is hard to miss, but she cannot see you the way Thrain does. And it’s only natural for humanity to question what they don’t understand. “Does her way of dealing with this hinder your plans?”

You sigh, a little hopelessness lingering in your breath. “She is a good woman, Thrain.”

Despite it being your words, Thrain doubts the validity of such claims, even if he never truly met the Lady of Fire. He, however, witnessed the scorched inteyvat fields and the utter devastation of Natlan’s terrain, completely abandoned by its human god in favor of committing pointless act of genocide. A good soldier should never question orders, a better one would never lift a weapon against those who cannot protect themselves. All in the matter of perspective, yet you never truly tried to convince each other to change your mind.

“Your unconditional love for humanity utterly blinds you.” Thrain indulges in a bad habit of reminding you of your flaws. Things that pose a clear distinction between the divine weapon you wish to be and the stubborn human that you are. It’s just as entertaining as it is necessary, and if nobody else wishes to extend such kindness, then Thrain shall be the first to do so. “Not that you can see much as is.”

You huff, half annoyed and half amused, “I liked you more when you remained tongue-tied and lost around me.”

“You mustn’t lie.” He chastises you. “Peruere might think it’s okay to be dishonest.” At the mention of her name the girl – long abandoned the flowers in favor of the terrarium full of poisonous spiders – lifts her head to look over her shoulder at you.

“She already does.” You counter with a light smile tugging on the corners of your lips. “Let that child breathe.”

“Will you answer me, or should I pry it out of you again?” The scandalized expression on usually stony face of Rosalyne is almost as delightful as the day you received those from the royal maids in the palace. If only it were that simple even now.

A tired shake of your head and strain to your jaw, you finally speak, “Their ley lines are in a terrible shape, way worse than we initially thought.”

Not seeing anything of worth to observe, Peruere returns to her spiders. With no more gossip for her to feed on, Rosalyne resumes her task. Thrain knows better than to remain on the surface level. You must have found no alternatives to whatever it was you were looking in the ley lines, and with his own journeys proving fruitless, you have finally exhausted your options. You never grieve that which you do not hold close to your heart. Yet somehow it doesn’t pacify his worries. How heart-wrenching it must be, discarding such a burdensome task on someone else’s shoulders just to give everything up to a gamble with fate in the process.

“This makes them easy to access, although there is no way for an ordinary human to restore them naturally unless a divine miracle occurs...” The directions are clear, and the confirmation is there even when it is not. The game ends with a checkmate. Your obsidian king cornered with no way of recovering, just like you planned it to. Natlan must be truly following Khaenri’ah into abyss. “Not that we need to worry about it right now.” The pieces rearrange themselves; the game begins anew. “There are more pressing matters on our board, my dear friend.”

“Which is?” A foolish question. One that can move mountains in its wake.

“We are about to enter the era of change.” You smile, replacing the bishop to king’s left with a shining golden piece. “In ten years’ time, the fourth descender will awaken.”

A divine miracle indeed. Yet not the one you are looking for.

[Name] Einherjar is the embodiment of humanity’s will to transcend the limits of this world.

You are not a particularly sociable person but when it’s beneficial for you, you have a way of making people trust you. Thrain doesn’t know much about your history with Haborym, but she seems to believe that you will help her out free of charge. Something that is simply impossible. Being born into a thousand-year-old deception made a liar out of you, Thrain needs to accept it eventually. And he did so a long time ago, only hoping you haven’t been too dishonest with him. Not everyone has as much insight on the inner workings of your mind however, so they tend to trust your lies as if they were the only truth they’ve ever known.

“I don’t usually question your decisions, especially considering stuff like this, but we do not have much time.” Xilonen’s ears twitch, tail swaying impatiently behind her. “She won’t be quick enough to install the barrier. Even with the Waypoints it takes ages, Mavuika.” Albeit not to such a dire extent, she too, just like you, is distrustful of everything. In a way it’s a good thing, especially for the people of Natlan. Right now, however, there is simply no time for doubt.

Opposite of her companion, Mavuika believes you a little bit too much, “Trust her.”

Once again, a frown crosses Xilonen’s face, “You can’t blame me for being apprehensive. She’s a fatua–”

Mavuika interrupts her before Xilonen can finish her sentence, “Do you trust me?”

With a heavy sigh of defeat, Xilonen gives up her pointless fight, “Yes, Mavuika. I do.”

The Lady of Fire sees it too, somehow pleased to win this stubbornness contest, “Then continue with your tasks as planned.”

Despite it being a proper waste of time and breath, this conversation served as a good distraction from the fact that Xilonen’s doubts, in fact, had merit. Thrain trusts you because he knows you and what you are capable of. Mavuika’s convictions stand on shaky ground at best, yet even with sky corrupted by the tumor of abyss, she still believes you will carry out your self-imposed task as planned.

“It is never a matter of time but of human will.” Thrain reminds it to himself more than he intends to explain it to the rest of the group. “We shall aid you as promised but you must trust her.”

Xilonen’s frown deepens even more, a little sliver of disgust clinging to the corners of her mouth, “I never asked for your opinion, Harbinger. You–” her rant is put on hold by another earthquake, and she lifts her head to the sky where the swirling depth of abyss is looming over the horizon. Only Xilonen doesn’t find what she expects to, “What in Xbalanque’s name is she doing?!”

The ground trembles with each step you take closer to Gosoythoth, until you stand face to face with the imposing abyssal eye. As if imagined the quaking stops, you look over your shoulder and though Thrain knows you cannot see them from all the way up, it still seems like you do. Or at the very least you can hear him.

“Don’t worry about me.” Your voice is a distant echo that only those under your protection can hear. Then you turn away, outstretched hand itching closer to the tumor until almost all of your arm is swallowed by the dark blue matter. “Carry on as planned.”

Despite his better judgment and more out of habit than necessity, Thrain nods, and goes on to relay the message, “She said to proceed.” As skeptical as always, Xilonen purses her lips in contemplation. “I shall depart at once. Lady Brighella should be at her assigned location already. Despite what you think of us Fatui, we do not wish ill upon you. At the very least not us. I cannot speak for the likes of the Doctor.”

Leaving no room for arguments, Thrain leaves to continue the fight that does not belong to him but to those who he’s carrying in his heart. Not long after, the sun of Mavuika’s doing lights up the sky and casts a blinding glow upon the people with a promise of protection. You stand, still and unwavering, even when the abyssal corruption starts to slowly creep up your arm and latch itself into the rest of your body. Whatever you want to do, Thrain doesn’t know. Sometimes even he is left in the dark about your schemes.

In a way, it’s better for you to be up there than on the ground. The battle is too reminiscent of the fall. Thoughts clouded, spirit restless, there is way more at stake right now than when it was just the two of you and your almost failed trick to turn the tables on divinity. Now it’s countless souls in his heart and the lives lost before his eyes; the past not lived, and the future not yet dreamt. The mark of the sun brightens; for the first time in a long while Thrain catches himself on the thought of treacherous doubt. The favor of your will may be unmoving yet purifying abyssal corruption has always weakened you more than you dare admit. This loss might spell the end of all things as he knew them.

“[Name], you must get down at once.” A whisper that may be lost along the wind, but it is enough for you to hear. The battle seems to put itself on hold for a moment. Even the creatures of abyssal mimicry freeze in place, watching the sky as it readies itself for the third death of the white comet.

“Just a little more.” Desperation never truly suited you, but Thrain knew more of you than to think of you as anything other than shamelessly desperate. “Just a second more.” Even Mavuika’s warnings of an upcoming attack on Gosoythoth are lost on you as well. “This body matters not, so fire at will.”

Traveler – the descender you have waited so long for, is searching for a way to change your mind. There is none. Not when it’s your whose will they’re trying to shake. Your voice is deafening in the silence brought by death. It’s clearer than it has ever been, even back home where you were the strongest. So much so, that even those who cannot possibly hear you cover their ears.

Mavuika must have heard you too, as the glow of fire blinds his vision. Her trust in you to survive this is misplaced, Thrain decides then. He is not the one to doubt your ambition, but Thrain is sure to question Ronova’s hatred. What is stopping her from tricking you into complacency just to remove you from the equation? Not much, yet your love for humanity is not a learned trait but the one you inherited with your mother’s blood. So should he trust the one who cursed you all to care?

“With my own two hands I shall carve the new dawn of humanity…” Your breath stutters as the sky cracks open. “And let your light awaken the destiny of your own forging…”

It’s quiet as the flames slowly die out, only to reveal the shattered plates of the fake sky. You are nowhere in sight; the only visible thing is the corpse of the moon scattered around behind the firmament. To his relief, your blessing is still hanging over his head, so Thrain dares not lose hope.

White noise in his ears, your heavy breathing is rippling at the edges of his mind with the drums of someone’s erratic heartbeat. Mavuika is hesitant to descend from her spot, the residue flames flickering as she carefully approaches the breach to glance inside the vastness of that which is forbidden. She never gets a chance to gaze upon the darkness beyond the false sky, the glow of starlight almost blinding her completely. Thrain watches the woman turn away suddenly, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow until the radiance subsides enough to not burn her eyes.

“To transcend the limits and descend upon this world with the power of my own will…” Everywhere, all at once, your voice is the sea engulfing the manmade cities of days long gone. “Mo–”

Shaken, the Lady of Fire extends her hand for you to take, you never get the chance to do so. The crown above your head is flickering in and out of existence; a small step in her direction, you fail to find the foothold in thin air. Something dimly glowing all around you, you tumble to the ground with the trail of shimmering ice following your descent. Without hesitation, Haborym abandons everything to catch you.

Whatever happens next is undetermined. But against all odds, the white comet was reborn once more.

His dear friend drowns in guilt like in the sea of stars.

Drop by drop, it sinks you deeper to the bottom. Yet with lungs full of shimmering moonlight water, you stand your ground. Ronova doesn’t appear to appreciate your efforts. She didn’t enjoy your wits 500 years ago and she definitely doesn’t enjoy the irony right now as well. It must sting, the idea of being outsmarted by someone so insignificant. So much so, in fact, that she casts her gaze at you the moment she finds nothing else to say to refuse Yohualtecuhtin’s decision to continue serving humanity even in the wake of destruction.

“The wayward daughter of flowers, what have you schemed this time?” Her fury quakes the ruins of Ochkanatlan, the descender’s worried eyes never leaving you all the while.

With your back turned to him, Thrain cannot tell your expression, yet something in your voice is painting a particularly smug curve of your lips, “Are you telling me all those eyes of yours are for naught?”

The Shade of Death still doesn’t get the humor. “Do not be smart with me, child.” Or maybe she is still coming to terms with the fact that for the third time in her long, pathetically restricted life, she has been outsmarted by a mere human. And two of those are your doing.

“I am always smart, not just when you’re around.” You wave her off in a manner that has Haborym questioning your sanity. Evident by the light flickering in her dull eyes for the first time since she and the Traveler returned from the Night Kingdom. It seems walking out of this with her life intact was not enough to return her will to fight, but your reckless distaste of divinity is just barely enough to ignite a spark. “Your eyesight must truly be losing its sharpness, Ronova.” You point at your mask, the dull thumping of leather against metal resonates through the ruins. “Don’t you remember when I said that with these very hands of mine, I shall forge humanity’s new destiny?”

Your cleverness is lost on the ruler of death, her omniscient gaze seemingly closer than it was before your shameless provocations, “Your will is as weak as that of an ant.”

Arms crossed over your chest, you let out a humorless chuckle, “You underestimate the evolution of human spirit, Shining Shade of Death.”

“Have you any shame, child?” Scandalized sneer may not be visible to the human eye, but even in this form Thrain could clearly picture the appalled expression on Ronova’s face.

“No.” Deadpan and straight to the point, you turn your back on the divine which abandoned you first. “I have no right to interfere with the expression of human will. Especially right now.”

“As defiant as always.” The ground shakes. The crimson skies almost seem like they’re bleeding. “And to think immortality taught you absolutely nothing.”

Ronova acts like that curse she placed upon his people was closer to Celestia’s gracious blessing than the greatest punishment for the betrayal which most were not aware of. Divinity was always a little bit delusional, and despite his disdain for the Shade of Death, Thrain almost pities her entire existence. Immortal and shackled, she is forever forced to watch over the rules of the world she despises.

This freedom to choose your own fate must fill her entire being with envy. And what is the best way to deal with something that you can never possess, if not take it away from those who are lucky enough to have it? And what is a greater punishment than having all the time in the world, yet not being able to do anything with it? Thrain can’t think of any. Neither can Ronova, herself.

“Do what you must, Yohualtecuhtin.” Not quite resigning, Ronova gives up her fight. Cornered with by her own rules and with no loopholes to use against you and him, she must endure yet another triumph of humanity over the laws of the gods. “This world is of no interest to me now.”

She lingers. Looming and unwanted, watching his every move. Even when Thrain gets down on one knee before you, hand over his heart, the feeling of Ronova’s many eyes watching his back never leaves. You are stiff, rigid fingers gripping your own forearms as if you are trying your best to keep yourself anchored in this dream. Even right now, Thrain cannot see your face. It’s truly a shame, he almost forgot what your eyes look like. If only the memories of you and him from 500 years ago were as fresh as the last moments of those who died yesterday.

“May I request to be relieved of my duty, Your Majesty?” It’s simply an obligation. A necessary pleasantry to sell the centuries old lie, yet Thrain is almost taken aback by how his own voice is laced with the bittersweet finality of a last meeting between… whoever the two of you are.

“You may.” You nod, looking straight ahead and never at him. “You’ve done well, Commander. May inteyvat guide you.”

“It has, and it will.” Thrain can admit that you were right, in a sense. Despite never making it easy for you, he sure knew how to complicate things when it mattered the most. “Farewell, my lady.”

You say nothing. Just step away and stare at the void of death while it stares back at you. Until the glaciers cover the ruins and the glow of the stars dies completely, with only the crimson of sin clinging to the tips of your fingers. Until the omnipresent daze of death leaves this doomed world to never witness it go up in flames but to return to its last embers flickering in the dark. Until the one whose will can rival the world grazes your mortal flesh and it falls apart under his careful touch.

The brightest morning star calls out to you in the most tender of ways. Hand on your shoulder, he is ignored in lieu of your unwavering devotion to the void. The long-lived shaman, Citlali, shakes her head in some sort of almost-disappointment and insists on leaving you be. It’s for the better if they do, yet Traveler’s hesitation to abandon you in the height of your most bitter loneliness makes him unwilling to walk away. Ororon, always the outsider even in his own domain, advises Traveler to listen in his usual politely shameless fashion; yet when his words change nothing, the young man hastily hides behind Citlali, his hood tugged over his eyes.

It’s admirable in a way, Traveler’s devotion to those he deems his friends. Yet sometimes the worst thing one can do is to meddle with matters they cannot resolve. Even Mavuika sees it, tugging the golden-haired heir away from you. He is almost ready to give up when you finally break your silence. All eyes on you, you finally abandon the void to let it fester on its own.

“Have I ever told you how much I love humanity?” You ask.

“500 years ago. You did.” Mavuika’s brows furrow, wandering gaze searching for something she will never find. “What is this about?”

“Our will to strive forward in this never-ending dream is truly the most precious thing.” You continue, disregarding her question. Human or not, you never planned on answering any, and thus you are not about to start. Be it Furina, or Mavuika, or even Bronya herself who questions you. “That’s why I admire you, Mavuika. The power of human will is shining especially bright in you.” The Lady of Fire doesn’t get it, even from his temporary realm of the evernight, Thrain still understands you more than most. “That being said, even if life slumbers peacefully with the knowledge that it will eventually wake up and face reality, some get complacent. You, too, are not exempt from delusions of grandeur. I guess it just proves how human you truly are. Makes it all the harder for me to stay rational.”

“What are you talking about?” A careful step back. A guarded one as well, Mavuika may not truly comprehend it, but her body reacts to danger before she can even force it to. “[Name]?”

You move forwards, the crimson pools under your feet in the shade of alchemical Rubedo. The one which served the heavens yet the one which was never truly the final stage of the magnum opus Khaenri’ah was always striving for. Discarded for the golden glow of Citrinitas, Rhinedottir tried to replicate the power of the unrivaled will, yet even with half of your soul ripped away from your body and forced upon Thrain’s unsuspecting heart, she still failed to do so, leaving only mayhem of stardust in her wake.

And now that the omniscient is finally blinded by its own prison of light; now that the Blade of Fólkvangr can never cut through time and space ever again; now that you’ve given it all up for Thrain to return it to the ley lines, weakened enough to be successfully tempered with; now that everything of true value is guarded by Thrain’s own ambition and Yohualtecuhtin’s devotion to serving humanity, nothing that remains in this world can stop the crimson moon from engulfing your body in all-corrupting flame. And so, your flesh is forever swallowed by the eclipse’s shade, awaiting the day the white comet dies for the fourth time.

“Haborym.” The pleasantries are no more. Humanity is done negotiating with the gods, and no compromise can be accomplished. “It was truly a miracle that you walked out of this with your life intact. Yet while you get to save your life and your people future, I have lost one of my most trusted men.”

You’ve lost way more than just one man. The freezing cold of the glowing stars abandoned you once and for all; there is no way for you to return to how things used to be. From this moment onwards the Plane of Fólkvangr can never exist again. All of homeland’s memory is gone, sacrificed for the dream of the future that is yet to be dreamt and what is left of it in Thrain’s heart must find solace in the afterlife of the foreign land. Mavuika does not know this, she can never know this. And this alone makes the exchange as unfair as the contract between mortals and the divine.

“The exchange is nowhere near being fair,” Despite your efforts with Gosoythoth proving fruitful, you cannot hear him now that Thrain abandoned his eternal life in a pursuit of the favor of the dead, but it still feels like you do. “And no good deed ever goes unpunished.”

“Fatui always collect their debts.” Mavuika agrees solemnly, yet she’s quick to refuse you, “I’m sorry, unless you wish to duel me in the arena, I don't think I can give you what you wish for.”

“I fear you are mistaken, Kiongozi Mavuika.” Names have power. Titles mean nothing except the ink spilled carelessly over the parchment. The crimson seeps from your tear ducts, running down your cheeks in such potency it almost seems black. It drips on the white silks of your blouse, soaking in and spreading all over the fabric like blood stains. “I don't blame you. Being a human occupying a heavenly throne, you forget where you stand. Yohualtecuhtin did not lie. God or not, your life is meaningless in the grand scheme of things. It is not with your own efforts that you won, but with the unshakable will standing by your side.”

Betrayal flickers in Mavuika’s eyes. History tends to run in cycles, and it is only natural for the betrayed to deceive the one who trusts them the most, “After all we’ve been through together, you're threatening me?”

“Just because my subordinate is a righteous person, it does not make me one.” You state, the crimson smeared over your skin seems to spread all around you like a contagious disease.

All unyielding flames, the Lady of Fire steels her resolve, “If we were to fight, you would lose your life.”

“Ego the size of the sun. It suits you, Haborym.” One step forward, two steps back. Traveler, apprehensive and cautious, reaches for his blade. Old and weathered, that thing is still sharp only due to his will. Hesitant to use it against you, Traveler is still weighing all his possibilities. The choice, however, has never been his even when he makes up his mind to interfere. Firm grip on Traveler’s cape, Ororon tugs him back to where Citlali is waiting. The woman, disheartened and oddly silent, simply shakes her head.

Mavuika, for all of her talk, still refuses to draw her weapon against you. Crimson is the stone all around you, crimson is the sky above your heads, bleeding is the heart that cannot ever find peace. Your feet never truly touch the ground when you move, and when you stop at the precipice, the crimson slates pave you a path right into the void. The fall is inevitable, but so is the descent.

You ask, the crimson pathway under the two of you shifts and morphs into a staircase. Finally, eye to eye with your first betrayal, you remove the mask from your face. It slips from your grasp, and you let it fall to the ground, to remain forever lost in the city which became its own grave. Mavuika’s face contorts into a pained expression yet never once does she divert her gaze. Deluded and delusional, she remains a faithful friend even in the wake of a collapsing world.

With the only truth you are willing to grant Mavuika no longer being yours alone, you lean down to whisper in her ear, “What can a human god do against a divine weapon?”

You move away before she can do it for you, although her hand catches yours before you can put any more distance between the two of you. “I truly pity you, [Name].”

“You shouldn't waste your sorrows on the likes of me.” You mutter, letting her intertwine your fingers together. A second, maybe more. When Mavuika lets you go, you are uncharacteristically hesitant to walk away. “Thank you. And please don't hold it against him and do not condemn yourself for your weakness. You are only human, and he knew nothing of my schemes. It would have been too exhausting to explain a plan dating 500 years back.”

Held up in the air only by your own will, the Lady of Fire lifts her head to the sky, “Ronova, she called you–” A stutter to her breath, you do not let her ask any questions. The crimson of Khaenri’ahn sins stains the golden brown of Mavuika’s skin. You wipe it carefully with your own sleeve until it’s gone as if it never existed.

“Natlan will be safer without it, Mavuika.” Your hands drop limply by your sides; the crimson morphs once more and you leave her standing there alone amidst the bloodied sea of wilted inteyvat flowers. “Besides, I am not the only one pulling strings from the shadows. Right, Aether?”

At the mention of his true name, the golden-haired traveler almost falls over the edge. Whoever you are talking about, he most likely understands it very well but all his desire to know more is cut at the root by a steady hand on his shoulder. Mavuika, casting one final glance your way, heads for the stairs that will take her down and away from the ruins of Ochkanatlan. With no choice but to follow, Traveler decides to ask you about it another time, not knowing that there won’t ever be one.

The crimson turns to stone, it cracks and breaks, and the harsh winds carry the dust away from the Throne of the Primal Fire. The silks are still soaked, and your cheeks are still wet when you drop yourself on the top of the stairs, right next to the throne which will serve as Thrain’s temporary resting place. His mind and soul may be disconnected from the mortal flesh, yet the phantom bite of chill grazes him still when you lean your head against his knee.

“I wonder if you still think me human even now, or have you given up on me at last…” Your whisper should be lost in the void, yet it still reaches its destination.

Cradled in the palm of your hand is the pyro gnosis. The corpse sizzles, glowing and warm, awaiting with bated breath the moment you deliver it to Bronya’s chess board where it finally reunites with the rest of its body. Only Thrain knows better than to believe it will ever leave your possession.

[Name] Einherjar trusts no one, not even herself. So when the other six parts of the corpse appear from the thin air, circling your palm with a magnetic pull that forces the pieces apart, Thrain is not even a bit shaken. You drop them to the ground too carelessly for something you so painstakingly hunted all this time, mismatched eyes forever scarred by abyss refusing to look at the remains any more than necessary.

“If I were a better person, I would’ve found another solution. I am not, so here we are.” Voice strained with emotion, your lashes drip with starlight. You do not weep for that which you do not yearn for, yet with the way tears dilute the crimson staining the skin of your face, it is hard for a heart to not ache in return. “But aren’t you proud of me, Thrain? For finally relying on someone else? It only took me 500 or so odd years…”

Swallowing harshly, you wipe your face clean with the same sleeve you cleansed the baleful blood from Mavuika and dart to your feet. Knee perched on the throne and one hand on his shoulder, you lift the helmet and place it carefully next to your feet. Then you lean down impossibly close. So close, one would be able to feel the warmth of breath on their skin. Neither of you is truly breathing, however, so the only thing that retains any warmth is the palm of your hand in which you held the pyro gnosis.

“You’ve waited a long while for me, so take your time. All the time you need. It’s my turn to wait.” Ear pressed right over his heart, you hear nothing. No heartbeat and no echoes, the void is the only thing that remains constant. “And when it’s over, I will welcome you back into the remnants of the old world with open arms.” Somehow the knowledge of this being just a beginning does not quench your misery, in turn, your tears grow only stronger. “But I am sure you know that already. You were always good at seeing me…”

The wind picks up again. The ashes and dust floating in the air serve as a reminder that the Thousand Winds of Time follow your every endeavor with a blessing which Death would never grant you. You shiver, the stained fabric of your glove slides off your hand with ease. Winds pick it up and carry it somewhere far away and you will never go searching for it. Your fingers swipe along the surface of your bottom lip, and then you do the same for him, fleeting touch yearning to linger for more than allowed. The phantom cold has never felt more like home than in that moment.

You distance yourself with a bitter chuckle, stained sleeve covering your face from the world, “How scandalous, some court ladies would have been devastated…”

Thrain is sure it would have been the case, yet there is no way of proving you right by causing outrage in the royal court of your memories. Fate was cruel, and it continues to prove to be the worst kind of tyrant even when you rebel against it.

“I’ve always–” You interrupt yourself, shaking your head to remove whatever improper thoughts crossed your mind. As if it could get any more inappropriate. “Never mind. It can wait for when I see you again.” Then you place the helmet back and gather the scattered gnoses, hiding them back in the Blade of Fólkvangr for safekeeping. “Till we meet again under the kinder moon, my heart and I.”

Thrain is aware this is your final farewell. You turn around and vanish to never come back to him despite your tear-stricken promise. His beloved is a distrustful liar, and when he sees you at last, you are a white comet descending upon the flaming remains of this old world. Burning bright to unite humanity in hatred just to die by the Holy Blade through your chest and the nails through your limbs.

This new world better be worth living with your blood staining his hands.

Thrain will decide when he gets there. For now, the white comet smiles just as beautifully as the day he lost her.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #capitano x reader #capitano x you

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ellewritesalright · 1 year ago

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Second Best - Part 2

Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Part 1 --- Masterlist --- Part 3

A/N: Started at school again so updates will probably be even more infrequent now. Once again, I hope this part is coherent enough :) also, I gave the mc reader a last name :)

Synopsis: When you were a child, the Lantsov king and queen arranged for their second son to marry you, a rich Ravkan noble family's only daughter. After many years, after all the destruction of the war, and after Nikolai was crowned king, Nikolai breaks off the engagement. But the complications of your past and your strict parents make it a nightmare to find a new fiance, so Nikolai promises to help you, yet he slowly realizes the mistake he's made.

Warnings: strict and mean parents, very slight self-image issues because of said parents, mentions of illness and death, me not knowing how to write sciencey things, kinda confusing and purposefully ambiguous details that will be important later in the story (bear with me please)

Word Count: 1840

..........

The day after the king visited, a letter addressed to you arrived at the Antonov house in Os Alta. You never got letters.

You grew up in the isolated countryside, surrounded by acres and acres of land and a household of servants who were under strict orders not to speak with you. When you were five, the only friend you had died during a small outbreak of pox, which was around the same time your parents started to restrict who came near your estate. Because of this, no one back in the countryside would be writing to you. Perhaps an old school friend sent you a rare letter, though they wouldn’t have the address for the city house, only the country estate.

There was no reason for a letter to arrive addressed to you. So when the butler handed you the letter at the breakfast table, your mother gasped and plucked it out of your hand before you could even open it.

Her eyes narrowed on the wax seal. "It's the double eagles."

"What does the puppy prince want now?" Your father looked over his morning paper, vaguely interested in the contents of the letter as he sipped at his morning tea.

"He's the king, father," you quietly chided. He just waved you off.

Your mother cracked open the seal and started reading. You wanted to grab it back from her--seeing as it was your letter--but you merely stood from your seat and hurried to her side of the table so you could read over her shoulder.

"He was serious about helping her find a new fiance," your mother said as she read.

You glanced at the first few lines, confirming her information. Then she gasped and set down the letter. You craned over her shoulder to understand what had scandalized her.

I wish to discuss what exactly you are looking for and to get to know you better before I help you find a match. As such, I would like you to have tea and luncheon with me in the Grand Palace on Saturday at noon. But only you--I do not wish to hear your parents’ talking.

"He's invited her to the palace. Alone."

Your father set down his cup. His eyes flitted up to you.

Your mother tsked, looking at him. "She can't go. She'll ruin us if she goes. She'll let it slip, I just know she will."

"I won't tell him." You swore, eyes pleading with your father. "You know I won't."

"Look at her, she'll crumble and tell him everything," your mother said, her face tensing up as she glared at you.

He paused in consideration, crossing his arms. You stepped closer to him.

"Father," you said calmly. "It's my reputation on the line as much as it is the family's. I won't tell him or anyone else for that matter."

He scrutinized your eyes a moment longer, then he returned his attention to his newspaper. "You can go. But be back by two o'clock. No later."

Your mother sat up in her seat, seeming like she wanted to say something, but a glance from your father made her think twice. You grabbed your letter and envelope from in front of her and waltzed back to your place at the table. You quickly hugged your father's shoulders on the way to your seat.

……….

The last time you were at the Grand Palace, you were twelve and terrified. Your spine was as stiff as granite as Lord and Lady Antonov guided you into the throne room. You'd been lectured from this way to that as you got ready that day all those years back.

"Keep your hands folded, and your mouth shut," your mother said as she fussed over your hair that morning. "Don't give yourself away by speaking commonly, girl. Be a proper lady."

You could still remember how her hands threateningly tightened in your hair as she started to braid it.

"The saints will pity you if you are not believed, daughter, but they will pity you more for what I will do to you if the royal family sees through you."

That was many years ago. But despite how the time had ticked, despite how you had grown and gone across the sea and back since then, you still felt like a nervous kid as you stood in the Grand Palace.

You stared at a painting in the palace's main drawing room. It was just a study of a vase packed with flowers, yet your eyes eagerly traced the purple petals and green leaves. You tried to imagine painting such a thing, although you’d never had an iota of artistic ability. You were only desperate to distract yourself from your impending meeting.

Suddenly the doors to the drawing room opened and Nikolai stepped inside.

"My apologies for being late. I was in the Fabrikator lab and there was a small crisis to be dealt with." He gave a suave smile. "Fire's out now, though."

"You started a fire?" You raised a brow.

His nose scrunched as he chuckled, "Well, not intentionally. Please, sit."

You smiled and sat down on one of the couches. Nikolai sat across from you, pouring two cups of tea.

"Sugar? Milk?" He asked as his hands hovered over the tea tray.

"Three sugars and a splash of milk, please," you replied.

"You like your tea sweet, then?" He glanced at you, making your eyes flit down to your lap.

"I didn't have many sweets growing up. Tea was always the one place I could get away with adding as much sugar as I wanted. And now my taste for tea is permanently skewed sweeter than everyone else I know."

"Nonsense," he smirked as he handed you your teacup and saucer, "everyone else's tastes are just too bitter and boring. Personally, I go for one sugar and as much milk as will fit before overflowing. But truth be told, I much prefer coffee to tea."

"Me too," you smiled a bit. A thought came to you, and you spoke, "There was this coffee shop at the university of Ketterdam that served the best coffee. It was sweet and light all while keeping a rich flavor; I still don’t know how they accomplished that."

Nikolai sighed contently as if imagining the taste of what you've described. "Yes, Kerch coffee is leagues ahead of what we make here in Ravka, isn't it?"

"Must be the high demand of all their bankers and businesspeople," you remarked, making Nikolai chuckle softly.

"Must be."

The conversation lulled for a moment, and you noticed a bit of ash on Nikolai's otherwise pristine jacket cuff.

"So… that fire that you didn't start intentionally?" You inquired with a light tone.

He scrunched his nose again. "Yes?"

"Were you looking at some Fabrikator invention in their lab when you accidentally made it catch fire?"

"No, actually," he chuckled. "The Fabrikators were helping me work on an idea I had for a thermal converter, something that could be implemented throughout Ravkan homes to help heat houses in the winter.”

“That’s an admirable invention.” You furrowed your brow and paused for a moment. “Would it work independently of a fireplace?”

“No, it would work in tandem,” He explained. “There would be pipes connected to the fireplace that would then run along the house either on the walls or beneath the floorboards.”

“Tungsten pipes?”

“Yes. Tungsten or–”

“Nickel.”

He blinked at you. “Exactly. How did you know that?”

“I studied advanced physics at the University; we had engineering classes where we had to design and build different inventions. I designed a motorized plough but the machinations kept burning through the metals so I needed to find the best metals. In my research I found that Nickel and tungsten have high melting points. Ergo, nickel and tungsten can withstand the heat of your pipes.”

He watched you for a moment, smiling. You watched back.

Men are frightened by smart women. Your mother’s words echoed in your mind.

But Nikolai wasn’t frightened. He wasn’t put off by your intellect. He sat there smiling at you for a second longer, then he set down his teacup and leaned forward in his seat.

“Two things,” he said with a bright glint in his eye. “One: did that machinated plough of yours work?”

You nodded. “Quite well, actually. I've tried to get my father to implement it on our estate and in our region’s farms, but he’s reluctant. He thinks it’s a fool’s tool.”

“Well Lord Antonov must be wrong. I can’t imagine anything you make would be worthy of such low-esteem. If you still have the designs, I would love to share them with the Fabrikators.”

You smiled. “I have the designs.”

“Excellent.”

Again, he watched you for a second, a light expression on his face.

“What was the second thing?” you asked.

“Oh, yes,” he grinned. “Two: would you like to come see the Fabrikator workshop?”

"Absolutely." You grinned back.

……….

The workshop was its own slice of heaven. All the machinery and pending inventions called to you as Nikolai and the Fabrikators gave you a tour. You could have stayed in the workshop for hours on end, but it was nearing two o'clock, and your parents would be livid if you weren't home by then.

Nikolai walked you back through the Grand Palace to where your carriage would be waiting for you.

"We never discussed my offer of assistance, did we?" He spoke as the pair of you walked through the main entry hall.

"I suppose we got a bit distracted," you smiled guiltily.

"Shame on us," he said with a lopsided grin. You reached the front doors and two servants opened them. Nikolai stopped in the doorway and turned to you. "So, you will accept my offer?"

"To help me find a fiance?" You asked softly.

"Yes."

You glanced over at the waiting carriage. Then your eyes found his again. "Yes. I'm sure you will find a better match than my mother will. She's already written to every eligible suitor that I am back on the market."

He let out a soft laugh. "Saints, that woman works fast."

"Tell me about it," you grumbled.

He stepped towards your carriage and held his arm out for you. You took his arm and his help into your carriage.

"Thank you," you smiled gently at him from the open window. "For everything."

He shrugged. "Of course."

"Truly, I am grateful that you are doing this. Saints know what sort of person my mother would force a match with. I have faith that you will offer me options with real merit."

He gave a small laugh. "High praise."

"I'm just being honest."

"I know," he nodded as he looked up at you.

His eyes were so intent on yours. A hazel colour was so perfectly spun in his irises, and his stare felt warmer than any you'd ever seen before.

"I'll send you a list soon enough," he smiled at you. His eyes lingered for another moment, then he backed away from the carriage. "Goodbye for now, my lady."

Your chauffeur rode off, and you watched the Grand Palace slowly shrink away.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Part 3

Taglist:

@xceafh @rhaenyrakryze @thecrowsgambit @nghtwngs @hauntedenthusiasttragedy @stuffyownswrld @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @angie-likes-to-read @take-me-to-ny @historianthesecond

Nikolai Taglist:

@sweet0pia-uwu @notoakay @naushtheaspiringauthor @liter4ti @marchingicenotes7 @eyeofthestorm

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov x you #grishaverse fanfic #nikolai lantsov fic #second best

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