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total-dxmure · 2 months

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ೃ࿔ CHERRY FLAVORED →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairing: mega fan!ellie williams x rock star!reader

summary: your guitarist was carted off to rehab after just one month into your recent tour. fuck. there’s only one thing you can do, and that’s hire a replacement. your band thinks it’s going to be nearly impossible to find someone that is on the same level of talent as your “beloved” guitarist. you don’t have high hopes that anyone can nail the songs quite like he did either, if you’re being brutally honest. enter ellie- she’s a mega fan. the girl knows every lyric and note like the back of her hand. . . and everything about you, which isn’t creepy at all. her apparent obsession with you is something that you and your tour manager can overlook if it means carrying on with the rest of the tour. forced proximity with a stalker-level fan . . . what’s the worst thing that could happen?

warnings: smut in next chapter, talk of substance abuse, the reader is a tease and a bit of a bitch but it’s hot i promise, ellie is obsessed with reader to an unhealthy degree.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

It was the kind of love that tortured poets mused over. Ribs straining against a heavy heart.

Ellie had deluded herself, as any love drunk person does, that she wouldn’t dissolve into a puddle on the floor if she were to meet you. She could keep her cool- downplay the crushing significance you held in her life. Your voice was constantly ringing in her ears. She could see your face in perfect clarity any time she closed her eyes. Pictures like snapshots played out behind her eyelids, and yet you always felt a million miles away for her. You were a perfect performer, situated on your sky-high pedestal, always out of her puny reach.

Because Ellie, as much as she despised this fact and dreamed of greatness, was a nobody. She grew up in a tiny town of no noteworthiness, her adolescent years spent dreaming about the planets and playing guitar with Joel. By all accounts Ellie was normal, while you were certainly not. Still, she liked to tell herself that she’d somehow manage to make herself worthy of your affections if she were ever to be blessed with them.

Finding herself in a situation like this seemed like an impossibility. She was partially convinced that she was daydreaming, having concocted some elaborate fantasy just to feed the insatiable ache. She was starved for you with no way to feed herself.

All it had taken was a single audition tape. One. Single. Tape. Ellie was staring, wide eyed, at Gene fuckin’ Murray.

The blood rushed from her head, hands breaking out instantaneously into a clammy sweat. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function at the realization that she was staring at one of the people that she had worshiped for years. Gene’s talent had been praised by the likes of Lars Ulrich and Danny Carey. He wasn’t popular just for his looks but for his undeniable talent.

And he was staring straight at Ellie, arms crossed over his toned chest as he waited expectantly. She felt like an idiot. Should she be playing? If so, what did they want her to play? Surely one of their songs. She’d glossed past the fact that she was a megafan, instead making it sound like she was just looking for a successful band to join. She was talented. No, Ellie was really talented.

She wasn’t just a technical player, but excelled at making her own rules. She enjoyed the creative freedom that playing the guitar granted, and felt as though the world needed more Jimi’s and Van Halen’s. Ellie excelled at thinking outside of the box.

She wasn’t very successful when it came to women, but had no problem making her guitar scream and cry for her.

So she took a deep breath and tried to steady her heart, once again stepping up to the mic. If there was one thing that all of your bandmates had in common, it was the attitude. She’d watched hundreds of interviews, had studied all of their movements and mannerisms. . .she understood you down to a science.

“So do you want me to play or what?” Ellie spoke into the mic, gripping the neck of the guitar in the hopes that it might act as an anchor. She was scared that she might float away.

The manager’s eyebrows twitched at her sudden change in attitude but he didn’t say anything, merely turned to look at Gene. For a second everyone just stared at her, like a bug under a microscope. After what felt like five minutes but was really just five seconds, Gene broke out into a grin, motioning to her with a flick of his wrist. He wasn’t confident in her, Ellie could tell.

She had a sweet face, she knew that. Big green eyes and freckles- she was unsuspecting. People were usually shocked to find out that she had wrestled competitively in high school and had no problem putting a man three times her size on his ass. People expected very little from her, and perhaps that was part of Ellie’s real charm.

“What song?” She was staring at Gene now, gripping her guitar pick between two sweat-slick fingers.

“What ‘bout ‘Sometime Soon’? Know that one?” His tone was teasing. Condescending.

The song was fast paced. It was supposed to be played loud and hard- one of your angrier songs. Ellie knew that you had been the one to write this one, meaning it was one of her favorites. The notes weren’t beginner friendly, but it wasn’t exactly hard for her.

It was more style, less technical ability- which meant that Ellie would have no problem making this song her bitch.

It was obvious that Gene was the one meant to judge her. The manager was just that- a manager. They needed an actual musician to listen in. So she took a deep breath and readied herself. . .

and then the sound of your singing voice blasted into the booth. Drums, bass- she was meant to play with you.

She almost missed her que, eyes widening in nervousness. She thought that she’d be playing all by her lonesome. She thought wrong it would seem. They’d started her off right in the middle of the song. Probably to throw her off. She jumped in, fingers sliding along the frets to shape out the correct notes. She tucked her guitar pick against the palm of her hand with her thumb, using the pads of her fingers to tap the strings. Faster. Faster. Faster. She didn’t look up from her guitar to look at the men’s reactions to her playing. Instead she just pretended she was standing in the living room of her apartment, hellbent on getting another noise complaint from the bitchy nextdoor neighbor.

Her calloused fingers pinched the strings, satisfied with the way the guitar whined over the speakers. The guitar solo in this song was meant to be impressive- and it was, she had to give it to Leon. A lot of it was just bullshitting though. He’d admitted that he came up with the solo in the actual sound booth off of the top of his head while they were recording the song.

The man was a god. He deserved “guitarist of the year” two years in a row. Ellie had the Los Angeles native beat though. Where he had grown up in the constant presence of “the greats”, Ellie had grown up in a constant state of boredom. She’d been playing the guitar since she was fourteen. Every day she’d sit down for hours and practice until her fingers bled. . . literally. She had thousands of hours on Leon, and she knew that with certainty.

Ellie moved the guitar up and down gently with her fret hand, prolonging the last note so that it cried the way she wanted it to. The muscles in her arms were sore from how hard she had been tensing during the song. She’d been a lot more mechanical about it than she was used to, but she had something to prove.

After a second she looked up from her guitar to gauge everyone’s reactions. The manager had dropped his cold and indifferent demeanor, instead flashing her a small smile. It bolstered her, gave her the strength to turn and look at Gene.

He still had his arms crossed over his chest, and for a second Ellie was sure that he would tell her that she sucked. She widened her stance, shuffling her feet so that she was in a more defensive position. His heated gaze made her feel as though she needed to protect herself from whatever mental anguish he was about to put her through.

“I thought she was kick ass,” Gene finally spoke up, giving Ellie a small thumbs up. Her face lit up into a wide smile before she could school her reaction into one of indifference. “What do you think? You’re the one that calls all the shots.” He spoke behind him, looking down at someone that had been hidden on the couch all along.

Ellie squinted her eyes, taking a step closer to the glass to see if there was another businessman she’d somehow overlooked.

She saw your hair before she saw anything else. It was freshly dyed, different than the last she’d seen you in all of the recent tabloid photos. You were clad in leather- pants so tight that they looked like a second skin. Your top was just as restrictive, breasts spilling out from the top, midriff revealed to show off the small silver piercing you had decorating your belly button.

You were Hecate in the flesh- dark, sinister, mysterious and capable of anything. Ellie didn’t think that it would be possible, but you were even prettier in person. The sight of you sent a shock through her system, and for a second she felt her knees quiver, as if she could no longer hold up the weight of her own body. Her insides turned to mush; white, hot mush.

The Stendhal syndrome: Ellie had been brought to the very precipice of existence by sight alone. She was so overcome by your mere existence that she felt her eyes begin to well up with tears. Body trembling, eyes locked on to your face and nothing else- it felt like she might faint. She remembered reading about the syndrome once before in an art history class she took in college.

“Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty. . . I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations.”

The urge to flee was just as great as the urge to get her hands on you was. She was thankful for the wide stance she was currently in, because if her legs had been any closer together then she was positive she would have lost her balance and fallen over.

You were right there in front of her. You’d been right in front of her the entire time, she’d just been so focused on Gene that she hadn’t even seen you in her panic. She stumbled forward, her sneakered foot catching the jack for the amp. She slapped her hands over her ears as a blood curdling screech began blaring over the speakers.

Ellie could have died. In fact. . . she just might. She dropped her guitar roughly on the ground as she raced over towards the amp, fingers shaking as she turned the knob to the volume.

The booth, once again, was silent. Silent enough to hear a pin drop. Slowly she turned, grimacing when she noticed the looks on everyone’s faces. She’d embarrassed herself and ruined her chance. Even worse was the fact that she’d humiliated herself in front of you.

She had somehow deluded herself into believing that the two of you were soulmates over the years. She’d compared your birth charts, life numbers- had taken multiple celebrity compatibility tests. All signs pointed to a resounding yes. The two of you were star crossed lovers, cursed to never know one another. She had told herself that if she were ever to bump into you in person that she’d be able to keep her cool. Ellie was certain that she could pretend that she didn’t know who you are- could downplay the significance that you held

Her ignorance was laughable. She’d been so overcome by your mere presence that she’d stumbled on air while standing completely still. You were standing up straight now, and even from her spot behind the thick glass she could tell how much taller you were than her. You had to be wearing heels or platforms, because according to Google you were-

“You know how many auditions we’ve listened to today?” You had grappled the mic from the tech and were now hunched over his soundboard, the lights from all of the buttons and knobs casting strange, beautiful shadows over your face. Your eyeliner was dark and smoked out around your eyes, and in that moment Ellie wondered if you were an angel or a demon. “Twelve. Twelve fuckin’ people have walked into that booth today. Every single one of them has been absolute shit. So bad, in fact, that I’ve wanted to blow my fuckin’ brains out in this buildings tiny, piss-stained bathroom.”

Ellie blanched, lips losing their pink color as the blood drained from her face. She was about to pass out. Her vision was already starting to tunnel. She grabbed onto one of the microphone stands to hold herself up, trying to keep her expression hard and unreadable. People often told her that she had “dead eyes”, and she could only pray that her face wasn’t giving her crushing grief away. It felt like someone had just died; like she had just died. Actually, she would have rather you just go ahead and stab her then tell her she sucked. You were her idol, her dream girl, her everything.

And you were telling her that you’d rather blow your fucking brains out then listen to her play. How was she supposed to recover from this? She’d heard the saying “don’t meet your heroes” a thousand times, but this? She’d rather you just be a bitch to her. Actually, Ellie would probably like that. This was the worst thing she could have ever heard. Her nose twitched as tears began pooling in her eyes. She blinked a few times, praying that you couldn’t tell in the nearly pitch black room you were standing in.

“But this?” You turned towards your manager and pointed passionately at Ellie. “This is music.”

Breath left her lungs in a loud, audible whooshing sound, like a balloon deflating. Her shoulders relaxed, the hand that was white knuckling the mic stand falling limp at her side. No, you didn’t hate her. You liked her.

You liked her.

Everyone had their vices. Leon’s had, apparently, been copious amounts of prescription drugs- often consumed simultaneously. You were used to getting what you wanted. You drank whenever you wanted to, fucked just about anyone that peaked your interest and got away with your usual rotten antics and bitchy behavior. You lived the lifestyle that you’d always dreamt of, even when you were a little kid.

You enjoyed putting on shows. You were flamboyant, loud, and weren’t afraid of expressing yourself. Teachers often described you as a “free thinker” back in your elementary school days. You dressed yourself for school each morning, each outfit louder and more daring than the next. You were an artist, and like most artists you had some inner demons that you fought against. You still fought tooth and nail, even to this day.

Finally though, after what felt like a thousand years of waiting and biding your time, you had the life you had always yearned for.

You sold out arenas, appeared on the front page of just about every magazine imaginable, and had celebrities clamoring over themselves to be your “best friend” of the week. Things were good.

But also a bit empty.

The friends that you’d made in your youth only used your name for bragging rights. Your parents had stopped showing up to concerts years ago, instead choosing to listen about your successes through their shitty television shows. Life felt a bit hollow.

Exciting. . . just different than you had always been used to.

“Come play with us.” One of the women whined from her spot on your plush hotel mattress. The bombshell blonde was already stripped down to her underwear, her eyes glazed over from whatever overpriced alcohol she’d already taken from the suite's bar, at your expense no doubt.

Your manager was used to the up-charges on the company card. He would probably be relieved in the morning when he found out that you didn’t break anything. There was still time for that, of course. It was only one in the morning, which meant you had nine more hours to get fucked up and wreck the cushy room.

“I’m not feeling up to it right now.” You said simply, already disinterested in the two women you had invited to bed with you tonight. You were holding a beer bottle loosely between two of your fingers, swishing the remainder of the room temperature alcohol absentmindedly.

You weren’t much of an “observer” when it came to sex, more of a very active participant. Still, all you could do was sit back in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, muscles tense after a long show. You weren’t exactly sure why you’d invited the women back to the hotel. They were both attractive and had come onto you at the same time. It was obvious what they had been insinuating, and who were you to deny two beautiful women? The first thing that had popped into your head being “a threesome might make me happy”.

Except now you were bored out of your skull and would much rather be sleeping right now than watch two ditzy girls clumsily fondle each other’s fake breasts.

“Please? I want you to fuck me so bad-” There was a knock at the door, causing both girls to go silent for a second.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaustion threatening to swallow you up whole. If it was your manager here to yell at you for “accidentally” breaking an amp at tonight's show you were going to scream. It was too late for that bullshit. Still, you saw this excuse as a blessing.

“Hear that, ladies? Looks like we’ve gotta pack it up. Thanks for showing me a good time.” You stood up from the seat with a small groan, placing your beer bottle onto the counter clumsily. The glass clattered, almost spilling all over the shag carpet.

The two girls groaned, obviously frustrated that they hadn’t successfully gotten you into bed with them. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you lately. If this had happened a few months ago then. . . well, you would have fucked them- no questions asked. Were you maturing out of your “wild and crazy” phase? No, you didn’t think so.

You bent down, scooping up a discarded bra so that you could toss it onto the bed. Fabric rustled behind you as they began to quickly sort themselves out, hoping to beat you to the door.

“Who is it?” You called out in a sing-song voice, deciding that if your manager was already angry enough to show up in front of your door at one in the morning then you might as well have a little fun with it.

There was no reply on the other side of the door, causing you to scoff. He was giving you the silent treatment. You reached out for the door handle, only to have your shirt yanked on by one of the women. You could hear the seams ripping against the weight of her, her eyes wide with desperation.

“Please let me show you a good time. I promise I’m good- I swear.” There was a fear of rejection there, you could tell.

You felt a bit guilty and were quick to lean in to press a kiss on her cheek. “Baby, you’re gorgeous. I’m sure you would have been wonderful- but I’m tired. That’s all, okay? It’s nothing personal.”

And with that you opened the door. The air from the hallway was brisk, causing goosebumps to instantly break out on your bare arms and legs. You were expecting the balding, bespectacled Barry to be standing on the other side of the door, all in a huff about “expenses” and “damages to the venue”. Blah, blah, blah.

Instead it was Ellie. A very broken looking Ellie.

The girls were quick to straighten out their outfits, their attention now turned towards the guitarist. Groupies like this didn’t care who they slept with, just so long as they were getting it in with someone that was in the band.

“You’re Emma. . . right? The new guitarist? You were so great tonight. I mean- Leon was always a bit of a poser anyway. You’re killing it.” One of the girls started, moving to stand next to you in the doorway.

You weren’t sure why, but you felt angry. Genuinely angry. Were you jealous of Ellie? No, because you were sure they would still rather fuck you than her. You’d been their first choice, afterall. Maybe you felt the need to shelter Ellie a bit? Yeah, that had to be it. She was still learning the ropes, and the last thing she needed was to be sexually harassed in a hotel hallway.

“. . . -lie” She was mumbling under her breath, eyes locked on the expensive carpet beneath her ratty old sneakers.

She had changed out of her stage clothes and put on jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair looked wet too, meaning she’d already taken a shower. She smelled earthy- Alpine, even.

You leaned against the frame, slamming your hand against the doorway to box the two women in, hoping to keep them away from the newbie. They flinched but both seemingly weren’t off put in their newfound pursuit.

“You’re the most talented guitarist I’ve ever seen live. I mean. . . your solos were incredible.” You hadn’t managed to successfully remember the girl’s names. Just that they were friends with two guys that had worked security for the venue tonight. People often took advantage of connections like that in order to get close to you and your bandmates. It usually worked too. Tonight was different though. Tonight you had a real stick up your ass.

Ashley? Amber? Sophie? God, you were bad with names.

“. . . -is Ellie.” Your guitarist mumbled again, slowly moving back down the hall in the direction of her suite.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion over her attitude, and you were quick to stumble out of your room and down the hall after her.

“Wait! Emma, can we get an autograph!” One of the half naked girls called after the two of you, trying desperately to shrug on her shirt to follow after.

Ellie turned then, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. You’d. . . You’d never seen her like that before.

“My name is fucking Ellie! Who is Emma? Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” She dug her hand into the back pocket of her jeans, trying desperately to find her keycard.

The girls gasped at her outburst, jostled by the look of pure evil on her face. Even you were taken aback, not used to this kind of attitude from her. Still, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t know why she was acting like this.

Ellie was what some would call a “mega fan”, though that would be putting it lightly. The word “stalker” would be more appropriate. Your manager knew that before he even messaged her for an audition. He’d checked all of her social media sites and scrubbed the internet for anything he could find on her. One thing was made very clear:

Ellie was obsessed with you.

For whatever reason she seemed to be keeping it a secret from Gene and Chris. All she fessed up to them was that she enjoyed your music, which was why she’d auditioned in the first place. She’d conveniently left out the dedicated fan blogs and the status of her cult-like following.

You didn’t mind it. Sure, it was a bit creepy. . . but she was talented and you liked her. She could hold her own against Gene and Chris’ constant asshole behavior, and had been receptive to Barry trying to teach her the ropes of the business. It was obvious that she wanted this, even if her motives weren’t exactly purely for the music. You’d let her be as close to you as she wanted if it meant that she’d continue playing the way that she does. The crowd had loved her, and it was only her second show with the band.

She was a bit shy, but that would pass eventually. You remember your early debut days vividly. You’d been just like her, maybe even a little worse.

“Hey, stop for a second.” You reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her from fleeing after her outburst. She turned to glare at you, but her eyes softened as she took in your features.

You could feel her arm trembling in your grasp, so you gently let go. No matter how many times you touched her or spent time with her, she still seemed to get overly nervous in your presence. It was endearing.

“Aren’t you a bit busy? Don’t let me ruin your fun-” She was being sarcastic.

“I was done with them by the time you knocked on the door. They aren’t exactly my type. I’m not sure why I even invited them back in the first place.” If you had to guess, you’d probably done it out of habit. You were used to inviting people back to your room or tour bus.

Ellie didn’t seem pleased by your answer. If anything it seemed to upset her even more. She bristled, reaching back into her pocket for her keycard. What did she want to hear? That you hadn’t touched them? You groaned, wiping an exhausted hand down your face.

The elevator dinged behind you, meaning the girls had finally taken the hint and were leaving with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Are you jealous or something?” You asked once the elevator doors were closed. The last thing you needed were the girls trying to sell information to some shitty gossip magazine.

She froze, eyes going wide and lips going pale. It was almost like she didn’t think that you knew all about her dirty little secret. A part of you wanted to tease her. Really make her squirm.

“Why would I be jealous? Those girls weren’t exactly my type either.” She was good at playing things off. Ellie was a good liar.

But you were good at sniffing out the bullshit. It was one of your many talents.

“Not of me,” You leaned against the wall next to her door, watching with curious eyes as she began fumbling in her pockets for her key. “Of them. Do you wish I had taken you back to my room or something?” You cooed flirtatiously, flashing her one of your most sinister smiles.

She coughed, turning around so that she could hide her face from you. This nearly had you groaning out loud in disappointment. Was she blushing? Do her freckles look even brighter when her skin gets all pink and hot?

Nah, it was dangerous to think like this. Band members were always off limits. It was a recipe for disaster. The last thing you needed was another Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham situation on your hands. Your PR team wouldn’t be able to recover. They’d just barely gotten over the “Leon” incident by the skin of their teeth.

Your old band member having to be tackled by three cops in a hotel lobby was horrible. It made you look sloppy. And sleeping with the brand new edition to the band was definitely sloppy.

“You’re acting crazy.” Ellie told you, shoving the keycard into the lock so that she could clammer into her room.

Pushing the boundaries was sort of your thing. You enjoyed being bad, fuck the consequences. Right about now you wanted to kiss Ellie. What would her reaction be? Was she a good kisser? You wanted to know. No- you needed to know.

“You’re right. I’m talking nonsense, don’t listen to me,” You called after her into the room. “Sweet dreams.”

And with that you sauntered back to your own room, practically purring in delight over the fact that it had been that easy to get to Ellie like that. You loved pushing the boundaries. . . and now you had a new toy to play with.

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whispereons · 8 months

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Oracle!Reader Part 14

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 13, Part 15

Warning as usual. There is blood and gore in this chapter!

Staring up at the Archon parading around in human form, you lick your lips and note how even those minor injuries were healed. Your body aches with phantom pain, some wounds healed too rapidly.

"I don't mind answering some questions, can I get your name first?"

A small smile plays at his lips as his hand is held out in front of you. "My name is Zhongli, I'm the Funeral Parlors consultant. It would be a pleasure to hear yours, outlander."

So he is aware of your origin, well at least partly aware. If he's not going to pull any punches then why should you? Besides if it all goes wrong, you can blame it on the bloodloss that you're still recovering from.

"I'm Y/N, and you're correct that I do not originate from this world. You must not be a normal person either, in fact you look identical to this statue. This one portrays Morax the Geo Archon, but I'm sure you know that, Rex Lapis."

Getting a good look at the statue from your proximity, it was obvious that Zhongli was Morax. You could make the excuse of it being game logic on why no one makes the connection, but that wouldn't work anymore. Maybe the statues are imbued with power that prevents anyone from this world to recognize the similarities?

"So it seems you are more knowledgeable than the traveler was when they arrived here. I should have known considering how the Electro and Geo particles surround you with zeal. Perhaps Teyvat is charmed by the features you share with the Holy One."

His step forward and angled head to look you in the eyes have you staring at glowing amber hues. The red eyeliner and outlined iris make it uncomfortably clear how intensely he's examining you.

"The curve of your lips, a stature so familiar, you resemble the creator so much. Teyvat must be bewitched and awed by an individual so alike as you. If only I could see your face in it's full visage, only then would I know for sure..."

Anyone would feel flattered or embarrassed with how seriously Zhongli studies you, but dread is the only thing you feel. You know that behind those honey-coated words is a trap just waiting for you to spring.

Too bad for him; the last thing you plan to be is predictable.

"My, my what a compliment! A devout and faithful follower like yourself is comparing me to the creator? You should pray for forgiveness to the merciful creator. I'm a servant for them, just in a different league than you. My connection with them is strong enough that Teyvat graces me with qualities alike yet inferior to the Everlasting One."

Zhongli returned to his perfect posture at your words, the flash of envy couldn't hide. "Oh?" Narrowed eyes and a lofty tone that encourages you to smile wider. "And what position could an outsider like you hold?"

"Well, as an Oracle of course! Really, just how dumb are you? An outlander that is incredibly knowledgeable of the Creator? It's painfully obvious." There's no reaction to your test insults, which is fine that wasn't the last you had in store.

"I'm from the world that the Creator is recuperating in. It's due to that, that I can speak to them much more freely than everyone here. Even Teyvat pales in comparison. That's why Teyvat is so attached to me, my aura is overwhelmed by the creators."

Honestly, you had Chongyun to thank for that one. You weren't sure how you were supposed to explain the whole Teyvat clinging to you without sounding repetitive. But if Zhongli was that easily fooled, he wouldn't be one of the victors of the Archon war.

"Then enlighten me on why the glorious creator would need an Oracle of your caliber to spread their word. Surely that's the least you can do." He's fully dropped that faux-polite tone in contrast to the technically proper speech.

"Gladly! It's become common knowledge that the elemental monsters and animals have started to act strangely. Add in the leylines that change from out of control to perfectly calm in a matter of minutes or weeks. These are all signs of the Creator's upcoming appearance! They need to be sure of who in this vast land they can properly trust."

"That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen. A wily and fresh child like you wouldn't do the best job." Hard like stone, Zhongli refused to even blink at your words. A god like himself would never falter after thousands of years spent perfecting his worship.

But did he really have to insult you at the same time?

"So you refuse to believe it because of my supposed inability to properly carry out any duties assigned to me? You don't even know all that I had done to arrive here! Surely you should know just how rough the waters were..."

The hand that covers your mouth does a poor job of covering the sly smile. Zhongli stares at you in silence, the wind swaying around the floating chunk of rock that you both stand on.

"Just what are you trying to imply?" His voice is as soft as a whisper but cutting like the sharpest steel.

"Why explain it when I can show it?" Silently rejoicing at such a convenient set up, you peer into your bag and grab the item you've been saving.

Shimmering brightly in the harsh glares of the sun is Beisht's scale, still in pristine condition despite your perilous journey since that day you got it from the sea-leviathan.

It feels like ages ago. Just how much time has passed since you arrived on Teyvat? How much more time will you spend in situations like this? Weeks? Months? YEARS?

The existential dread is quickly pushed away by your beaming smile at Zhongli's reaction to the singular item. The rocky exterior finally breaks at the proof of your 'abilities'. His lips part at the bright teal color and he blinks incredulously at it.

Really, how could you pass up the chance to rub it in?

"Surely a human of my caliber would be capable of this much. I mean, a perfectly intact scale from a leviathan that managed to avoid the whole Qixing that isn't dyed in blood? Child's play for a servant specifically chosen by the Creator. I never doubted the creators' choices!"

Holding the scale in front of you, you smirk at the man with as much snark as you hold in your heart. "The same can't be said for you, Mr. 'That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen.' Because the Creator is capable of choosing anyone they want, for whatever reason they desire."

Silence envelopes the area as you stare at him, a beat passes with no movement until a gruff chuckle leaves him.

"The more you speak, the closer I come to a conclusion." Recovering quickly, Zhongli's gloved hand rises to tap his mouth contemplatively. "You're either something far worse than I've seen in a long time, or a hope for the Creator's return."

That white outline around his iris seems to spin with the malicious joy that he refuses to show. It's like his body screams that he'll either enjoy your presence or your destruction. Nerves and anxiety grip your heart but ignoring it has always worked better for you.

"Maybe I can say the same thing about you considering your past, but I see you still aren't convinced. And how could I ever let you, one of the longest standing worshippers, have doubts about me? So tell me, were Beisht and her husband devout or sacrilegious beings?"

The answer he'll say is obvious, not only because you hold such a confident stance showing that you know the answer but because of Zhongli himself. A noble dragon that willingly bows to someone would feel ashamed at the thought of resorting to lying to boost his own pride.

Quite ironic how you hold so much trust in his answer due to the acolytes' faith in the creator. The same faith that led you to this position, and the same thing that'll keep you from ever exposing the truth of your identity. A constant force preventing them from meeting their 'beloved' creator.

"You met Beisht in the flesh, there's no doubt that she is solemn and serious in her worship. The same can be said for Osial, it was one of the few things I could agree with the leviathan. Even still, I'm the superior believer. After all, I'm the one who is left after all this time."

"Yet I met Beisht before you."

The scoff and know-it-all tone he used pricked at your nerves long enough to cause an annoyed response to slip out. Unfortunately, that seems to be what Zhongli was baiting for as he laughs, the low sound making the rock platform tremble.

"That's if you're even an Oracle. You may be from that world and even heard about Teyvat from the Creator, but for all I know, you could have been banished here for us acolytes to execute. Whether it be for avenging the Creator or entertaining them."

Damn, it was almost scary how fast he turned the situation around. But how could you falter now? Getting tongue-tied at such a crucial moment would be a pathetic way to lose your life.

"And what will you do if I truly am an Oracle? When the creator's return is delayed months, years or even decades due to your rash actions, what will you tell the creator when confronted with the consequences of your own actions?"

"Then you should work hard enough to prove to skeptics like myself. To put blind faith in whatever is dubbed the creator's is a fool's belief. Temptation and sin ravage Teyvat from the long drought of the Creator's presence."

For a split second, sorrow clouded his eyes. He's hiding something. It’s important and you can feel it in your soul. The only thing that really stains his and Venti's reputation is their war with Khaenri'ah. It must be connected to that.

But it's too early to try digging in for information on that. He doesn't even believe you to be the Oracle, how could you possibly get that out of him? What if he's under a contract and must stay silent on the matter?

Lost in his memories, Zhongli doesn't realize how your face pinches in frustration. You'll have to get his approval as the Oracle before you can even-

Oh.

Oh, why didn't you realize this before?

A grin spreads across your face as you circle in on the heart of the problem and the perfect way to fix it.

It's not that Zhongli doesn't believe you to be the creator's Oracle, he just doesn't want to believe it! He's envious: envious of why a random outlander like you got such a nice position in comparison to him who probably spent most of his life molding himself to the creators standards.

All that's left is to reel him in and you know the perfect way how.

"Prove myself? I've done plenty to prove myself, but what about you?" Mockingly, you tilt your head as your empty gaze peers into Zhongli's eyes, digging deep into him. He focuses back on the conversation at your shift in tone.

"If anyone should have to prove themselves, it should be you." This time it's you who takes the bold step forward. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? And try to keep in that temper too so that I can finish my words. A dragon your age should know such simple things."

"As Morax you were quite powerful, though a brute to be completely honest. Still, you knew your limits well and paired up with the Lord of Dust before the Archon War, who served as the 'brain'. Tell me, just how did it feel when you found her as nothing more than a statue that day?"

Your words have a strong effect on the imposing man, his fist trembling at the mention of such a beloved god, one whose death still pains him. Paying no mind to his pain you ask the monumental question.

"Just how much resentment do you hold against the Creator for her death?"

A hand slams you against the Statue hard enough to bruise your skin. It doesn't squeeze around your throat but there's no need to as the Geo begins to petrify your legs, locking you in place. The Statue is in a constant state of healing in defense to the bruises on your neck.

"Just what are you trying to imply by saying that?" Cold and apathetic is the voice that flows from the stoic man. It's what you would imagine Morax would sound like before Guizhong taught him how to care for humans.

"C'mon, that's the second time you've asked me that. Don't make me speak the obvious-" A shuddering gasp leaves you as he tightens his grip. But it's gone just as fast; a flock of birds tackle Zhongli.

You can only watch in shock as what was only 4 to 5 birds grow to become at least 15 birds of all kinds attacking him. The throbbing of your neck being healed as the Geo instantly releases you is overshadowed by Zhongli swatting at the birds as he takes continuous steps back.

But that's all it took for Zhongli to fall off the edge as the birds flew away cawing happily. Standing and staring at the spot where Zhongli fell off in shock, you begin to chuckle. It grows to a giggle before you're laughing hysterically as you buckle to the ground. Loud peels of laughter ring around the area as you hold your stomach from the ache of laughing so much.

To think Teyvat took the initiative to help you out for once. Why couldn't it do it sooner? Was it only after gaining some power from activating a new nations statue of the seven that it could? You couldn't focus on the question anymore as the look on Zhongli's face when he fell came to mind again.

The sight of his eyes blown wide and a split second of pure panic sent you straight back into a fit of laughter. The ground far below you shakes as a Geo pillar constructs a bridge high enough to reach the stone you sat on.

The sound of footsteps make you open your eyes and giggle at the sight of a disheveled and annoyed Zhongli. Annoyed is still an improvement compared to his enraged state earlier. With giggles slipping out, you stand back up and laugh louder at his appearance in full view.

His hair was pulled out of his rattail with his earrings nowhere to be seen. Bits and pieces of the weaker cloth of his suit were missing, giving him a poor look that didn't match his flawless posture. The red marks and light cuts only added to the joy you feel at his expense.

"Are you finished laughing, Y/N?"

"For now at least. I would suggest buying a new set of clothes but I don't think you have the mora for it!" Zhongli only lets out a long-suffering sigh as you crack up again.

You would be scolding yourself for not taking the chance to escape while he was away but it was better this way. You didn't need the information about Khaenri'ah, it was nice to know but the information wouldn't help you live.

The main reason you stayed was because running away would prove Zhongli right to be suspicious about you. It would let him know that you're scared and have something to hide. Plus, that would mean having to escape Liyue the same way you did Ei, just in a worse situation.

That's not something you want to repeat.

"Alright I'm done laughing." You say while wiping off the budding tears from the corner of your eyes. Zhongli sends you a look that screams that he doesn't believe you but you shrug it off.

"Really, that question was more of a test if you will. My main job is simply to see who the Creator can trust. Your relationship with the Creator beyond that is between you and them."

The calm and peaceful tone you use is such a contrast to the one you used earlier that Zhongli is clearly apprehensive. Paying it no mind you continue to speak.

"If you truly want a reason to at least try and believe me to be the oracle even if you don't fully believe me, then I'll give you one. I'm sure you still have the stone dumbbell from Guizhong that you've never been able to open. I know how to open it."

Those last words have Zhongli staring at you intensely as you gaze off into the distance. The Dragon-Queller tree is visible through the fog with its glowing blue branches and yellow leaves.

"How?" He breathes out, scared to trust but scared to lose this opportunity too.

"It requires a naturally grown glaze lily cultivated by the Creator. That's because it requires a 'pure' glaze lily and the only one who can grow such a thing at this day and age is the Creator. All the natural glaze lilies have died after all."

Zhongli's shoulders slump at your words. It seems he started to let his guard down after he fell off. He must no longer view you as a threat or, at most, an annoyance. That's okay with you, underestimation is the most useful viewpoint they could have for you.

"Should I even make an attempt to ask you why it can only be unlocked with that? You're only telling me this as a last resort to keep you alive, correct? Even if I told you that I would keep you alive without that information, you wouldn't believe me. As childish as you may be, foolishness does not seem to be a quality you hold."

"That may be true, but if you really want an answer to that first question then I'll tell you." You look over to lock eyes with him and smile. It conceals every sneaky and vicious thought you hold. "I have no clue. The Creator instructed me to use it as a last resort, if you want that answer then try praying. Perhaps you'll get an answer."

You would like to know the answer to the stone dumbbell too. After all, you only made up the solution! Seeing as Zhongli spent all these years after Guizhong's death, failing to unlock it, it's a good bet that it'll never open.

It's silent as you both get lost in your own thoughts. Unlike before it wasn't tense, it was more comparable to the silence you would spend alone in your apartment. The nights you would only be accompanied by the thoughts of the 'what-if' situations. Thoughts that would only stay thoughts just as the past would be just that, the past.

Wanderer learned that the hard way too. You wouldn't let yourself hold so many regrets before your inevitable death. Even in Liyue you weren't truly safe, so wouldn't it be best to speak to Zhongli while you still could?

"I have questions about Khaenri'ah… Well, the better way to put it is that the Creator has questions about them. It's one of the few things that they mourn the most. A whole nation devoted to worshiping solely the creator, destroyed by the Archons that swore their life and loyalty to the creator. So will you explain it to me?"

His eyes fill with the same sorrow you saw in him earlier. It seems you were right in guessing that his line on blindly trusting things labeled with the creator was connected to Khaenri'ah.

"I have spent all my years after that day asking for forgiveness, for some way to atone. It was one of the few contracts that I did not properly balance in equivalent exchange. I regret signing it, not for myself but for my beloved God."

"So it's a no."

"It's an agreement not to speak of it."

"Then don't speak about it." Zhongli seeds you a questioning glance as you mischievously smile at him. "Just listen to my words and don't look away. I'm quite sure nodding and shaking your head doesn't count as breaking your silence."

A huff of amusement leaves him at your solution. His eyes close with his lips curling into a small smile. He nods his head in acceptance, not having the drive to poke holes into your stubbornness.

You were quite confident in the conclusions you've drawn so far. Genshin Impact was nearly the sole reason you were living back on Earth. Family and friends were nonexistent, you had given up hope on making any new connections as well. The only thing you did when you weren't home was work and your work made you be everything but yourself. So combining everything you know from the game with everything of the cult that you've learned thus far shouldn't be too hard.

"When the Archon War broke out, I'm sure most of you were merely looking to keep your people and nation alive. The original design of having the gods powered solely on their people's worship paled in comparison to Celestia's offer of power by obtaining a spot in a group of seven. At the end, you all had a choice. Accept your spot by accepting a Gnosis, or go against them similar to how the Dragon King once did."

Zhongli perks up at the mention of the Dragon King. Not many people know about the original Dragon King. Most people assume it's Azhdaha when in reality, the original was a far greater dragon.

"You all must have been quite against it. The only God you would all bow under would be the Creator who had left before those events to sleep in my world, yet Celestia probably whispered to you all that it was allowed on Teyvat because it was approved by the Creator. That the Gnosis was a reward for all your hard work and as Celestia was the first descender, all of you accepted it.”

The way he begins to stare at you is invasive, like he's just dying to jump you to get every bit of knowledge you hold on the topic. He's starting to suspect you.

"Yet when Khaenri'ah was revealed to exist years afterwards, everything was thrown into confusion. I'm sure you and the other Archons were fine with their presence as Khaenri'ah worshiped the Creator, but was Celestia?"

A sly smile creeps upon your face at the memory of when it was revealed that Khaenri'ah wasn't the first civilization to be turned into hilichurls. No one liked Celestia so you had no problem pinning almost all the blame onto it.

"I'm sure they were enraged, especially as Khaenri'ah grew more and more bold with their inventions. Gold in particular was quite dangerous seeing as she not only created life but also Durin and the Golden Wolflord. And even that was unintentional!"

You laugh cheerfully as Zhongli chuckles in surprise at your words. Had you successfully deterred him? Probably not, but he hasn't stopped you so you'll keep going till the end.

"Celestia ordered you all to aid them in destroying Khaenri'ah but you all refused. How could any of you harm a nation so devoted to the creator even if they refused to worship Celestia or the Seven? But that Gnosis you all accepted comes with a price. A price that serves as leverage and a control device."

The thoughts of what Beisht told you on how Celestia had caused them to forget the original way of worship resurfaced. Celestia was just too suspicious for that to be the only thing they had done. It would take a lot more than that to force the Archons to listen to them.

"That Gnosis was like a drug. It gave you all so much power, tasting and making you feel like you're on top of the world! Just for it to come crashing down when the unpleasant side effects hit you. It corrupted you all like poison forcing you to wage war against Khaenri'ah. My best bet is that it was like mind control. What do you say?"

He looks at you with a blank expression, as if trying to see the secrets you hid in your soul through your eyes. But there's no response from him, not even the occasional nods that he was giving before.

"Well if it was mind control, perhaps it made you believe that Khaenri'ah had plans to overrule the Creator and create their own human god. Or maybe it made them out to be traitors to the creator. Perhaps both? That doesn't really matter, what does matter is that only after the war was in full throttle were you all brought back to your senses."

You didn't have any proof of that last part, it just seemed like something Celestia would do. Not only to prove their superiority but also force the Archons to put their best effort in defeating the people of Khaenri'ah to save their nations.

"After the war ended, you all wanted to get rid of it but Celestia wouldn't allow such a thing. Even if you most likely tried to find some loophole, Celestia doesn't play nice. It would make sense if they threatened to give a punishment similar to what they had done to Khaenri'ah. So long as none of you destroy or throw it away, they'll leave you all be,”

Venti was a god, no matter what fans said, there was no way he would lose to Signora. It made more sense if that was his way of 'handing' it over to the Tsaritsa. There was also Nahida who threatened to break her Gnosis to one-up Dottore. That was always funny, you would kill to have witnessed that in person.

"Of course none of you would actually use it or even desire it in your vicinity. Everyone wins when the Tsaritsa uses her various methods to acquire the gnosis'. And thanks to the traveler appearing during that time, Celestia was probably too busy freaking out over that to pay too much attention. For a while at least."

Finally looking back to Zhongli, you smiled proudly. "I must be pretty close right? At no point did you laugh at me like you did with Alice so I'll take that as a good sign. And even if I'm wrong, everything will be solved when the Creator descends."

Stretching to loosen the tension in your back, you applaud yourself for the brilliant thinking. It's not like anyone can actually fake gold blood for long when even hair dye didn't exist yet. You're basically leaving all these loose ends to the you that would be believed to be the Creator. Which is never going to happen!

"Would the Creator scorn me for asking you once again if you're truly an oracle?"

"I'm sure the glorious creator would be fully justified in doing so, but I'll scorn you in their stead.. And don't get it twisted, it's not because of your feelings concerning Guizhong's death. It's how you, by your own negligence, offended the Creator!"

An utterly baffled expression paints his face at your accusation. Unrelenting, you point your finger at him with a serious face that you haven't shown him till now.

"Did you really believe that the creator wouldn't realize? Just how little you changed from that brute of a dragon that saw humans as plentiful yet insignificant as dust? To think that you believed yourself to be comparable to the primordial dragons."

Zhongli stiffens at the mention of the primordial dragons. After all he is the prime of the Adepti who's exuvia is a dragon, not a primordial dragon. Wouldn't it be fun if he held some sense of inferiority when compared to the primordial ones?

Zhongli sits on the ledge of the rock with his elbows on his legs and his hands covering his face. It was time. He would question just what you were talking about and you'll explain the elemental sacrificing that he forgot. That'll be the end and he'll have no choice but to support you!

Smiling knowingly you approach him and lean down to see behind the shadow casting over his eyes. Your eyes twinkle victoriously as his breath leaves a cloud from the crisp air.

"I should have known that the creator would not forgive me for failing to arrive on time."

What?

"How could I have been beaten to that shooting star by that astrologist? No matter who may have been her master, I failed to arrive on time."

Zhongli sulks there as he continues rambling to himself on 'missing' the shooting star due to his old age. Was he seriously talking about how you lost him the first time to Mona?!

Memories come back of you using the last of your wishes on his banner and being greeted with Mona instead. The first 50/50 you lost and was forced to use nearly all your primogems to get him. A fact that you never let Zhongli forget through your adventures.

Just what would he do if he knew how you always switched to a different character whenever his idle starts to play? Would he sew his lips together in repentance? That must be the difference between a true believer and a fake believer...

Holding back a sigh you begin brainstorming on how you were supposed to bring the conversation back to the sacrificing. Zhongli is too lost in his own head as he begins to continuously blame himself for any mistake he could have made.

"Being unable to answer the travelers' questions must have worsened their view on me too."

"That and how you were willing to let Liyue flood if they couldn't defeat Osial."

"Human life may be precious but they're as numerous as the dust that make up stone. I would rebuild Liyue for the rest of this long life until I cultivate a nation that I could humbly present the creator with."

"Then shouldn't the creator just grind you down and raise a different Adepti to their exact liking? You should work hard to be exactly what they desire to be truly loved."

"Are you saying that the Creator loathes me?" He finally looks away from the sea of clouds to stare at you. Sparing him a glance, you listen to him grow more panicked by your silence.

"Do they wish to see me crumble and be reabsorbed into the earth for my mistakes, for my sins? Was it the way I mechanically went through the motions of worship for the few years after Guizhong's death? Or does my benevolent god crave me and my nation to fall for aiding in the destruction of Kh-?"

Abruptly Zhongli grasps at his chest where his heart lays as he coughs. More out of politeness than concern you rub his back as fluid flies from his lips to his closed fist.

The thick inky plum colored fluid stained his fist with droplets of crimson swirling within it. His coughing fit slows to a halt as his hand slowly releases the clothing over his heart. Harsh breathing and a shallow pained groan is all that can be heard as he cleans himself up.

“Pardon me-”

“Was that a warning from Celestia or a side effect if you get too close to speaking?"

"The implication is the same no matter what it may be from." He whispers as you begin to move back to return his personal space. Yet his now ungloved hand is what wraps around your grass stained sleeve.

"Now answer my question." Determination and a barely concealed unruly emotion simmer beneath his composed surface as he asks. "As an oracle, tell me what I have to do to earn their forgiveness. What must I reap to begin repenting for the sins I sowed?"

Eyes widening at the sight of the disheveled man, you stare at him quietly. The messy hair, cut up clothing and grip tight enough to keep you still all while being careful not to bruise.

Hook, line and sinker.

"Is that a question for me to answer? Am I the god that you wronged? If you wish to communicate with the creator yourself, then there is a way. A method to begin regaining the pebbles that make up the mountain of trust you once shared with them."

You grab the arm that connects to his hand wrapped around your own and pull him up. He obeys the silent command and stands up, his gaze never faltering from your form. Silent and towering like the mountains he's created, he simply listens.

"Celestia has hidden more from you than you originally thought. But I'm sure you already know that. Offer yourself to the merciful creator and they'll surely hear your pleas of forgiveness. Whether they forgive you or not is up to them."

Releasing your hold on him, you turn to survey the area. Now where could you have him perform the sacrifice? His free hand comes to rest on your shoulder for your attention.

"What must I offer of myself? My blood? My body? If need be, I'll even be willing to offer my life. My life is worthless without them. I'm nothing more than a grain of mineral if not for them."

"There's so many things you can offer, but if you want to make the most impact, then you'll offer up your body parts. Your life may be precious but just how much longer do you have left?"

"Then will the private temple I have built for them work? We can head there immediately." He points south to the sole unnamed mountain in Minlin. You vividly remember unlocking the teleport waypoint there.

"The only way I'll know is when I see the interior. I'll meet you there Zhongli!"

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you close your eyes and calmly imagine what the scenery around the waypoint looks like. The rocky feel of the floating stone changes to a lush green beneath your feet. Opening your eyes you're greeted with a valley of viridescent brustles with degraded stone ruins at the edges.

"To think that the Creator even allowed you access to the waypoints. They must treasure you greatly." He appears at your side in a matter of minutes. His tone has a hint of longing and bitterness.

It's sweet like the flavor of a childhood candy that you would sneak behind your parents backs. Almost sweet enough to make up for the starvation you would face later on as punishment.

"Instead of focusing on that, why don't you show me that private temple you created? As the Geo Archon, I hold high expectations for you."

"This temple is the one I created for me. If you want the glamorous shrine built for the mass and appearance then you're better off viewing the public one that the Qixing now control."

He walks down the hill until the grass is tall enough to cover his calves. You follow behind him and stare blankly at the plain that is covered with a healthy amount of tall marigolds. Just as you're about to repeat the question, the earth begins to rumble.

It starts with just one stone rising from the ground, until it multiplies into a roof like structure. You watch in awe as a temple surges out of the mountain with the slightest bits of dirt falling off it.

Stone of high quality and clearly careful upkeep shines with small cracks from the passage of time. Gold, silver, and bronze layer the nooks and crannies of the pillars that keep a roof over the doorway.

Marveling at it, you follow Zhongli into the temple... He couldn't kill you in it, right? Surely you could still teleport even if he locked you in it… Teleporting without using the map might not work due to the focus and effort it required, but doing it with the map has never failed you yet.

The inside was even more impressive; statues of all kinds surrounded the hallway. It was you, always you, just in different poses, clothing and materials. From thin robes crafted entirely from Cor Lapis, to suits made of Noctilucous Jade.

Arriving at what seemed to be the main room, you're greeted with a huge statue comparable to the public one in Inazuma's plaza. Sunlight bathed your statue from the skylight above it.

Your body was made of Cor Lapis decorated in an Archon-like robe made from Noctilucous Jade. A fresh Glaze Lily sat in your palm as Silk Flowers adorned your head in a crown like structure. You sat on a blue stone throne that seemed to grow brighter as you approached it. The sleek yet dense mineral looked like the magical crystal chunks you would give to the blacksmiths.

"Be careful to not venture too close to that one, the elemental energy may leave it to join you." Zhongli warns as he steps into the middle of the room. Smiling casually to hide your amazement, you head back to him.

"What an impressive statue, the Creator is feeling quite pleased with the display but still wishes to see your true remorse." Digging into your bag, you brought out the ceremonial knife and the handbook you took notes on.

"Go get the softest cloth and lay it on the ground. This ritual is simple, you'll cut off whatever part of your body you wish to offer, pray, and wait for a response. If 10 to 20 minutes pass with no response, then you can leave it at that or offer more in hopes of a response."

Closing the book and shoving it back into your bag you offer the knife to Zhongli. He looks up from where he laid the gilded gold fabric to stare at the knife before letting out a drawl laugh.

"That knife will do little to my scales, Y/N. A ceremonial item is to be bathed in liquid gold to be used so I have more than enough weapons that can actually cut my skin."

Scoffing, you stuff the knife back in as he leaves and returns with a variety of weapons. The largest was an ax that smelled faintly of blood. Was it used to sacrifice someone not too long ago? The thought makes you uncomfortable, yet you're no longer alarmed at the thought.

My, have you changed.

You move to stand away from the center closer to the exit. Zhongli's bare hand turns to a pattern of black and amber hues. Shedding his thick coat, his flexed muscles in draconic form are left in full view.

If you were back on Earth, you would have killed to view this. An Archon’s skin was something the majority of the players wished for, for quite a while. Even now, you would love to see his true Archon form, but the thought of actually living was far more tantalizing.

Rolling up his sleeves, he chooses a sword and examines it carefully. Without fear he raises it high and slices downwards cutting his hand off cleanly. The ruby liquid sprays onto the floor as the droplets drip off his sword and dismembered limb simultaneously.

It doesn't matter how many times you witness or smell blood, it still disgusts you. The only blood you truly cherished in shedding was the one that left that man's body when you stabbed him in that cold alleyway.

His hand lands onto the expensive textile with a wet thud as the ivory bone sticks out. Zhongli lays the sword down gently resisting the urge to groan in pain. Gritting his teeth he returned his attention and gaze back to you. You, who stayed in perfect position ahead of him, clad in gems and minerals carved by his own hand.

Closing his eyes, his lips followed the adored pass time of praying with intensity. Too lost in his regret, joy, and infatuation his words slipped out clear like the perfectly carved jewels he’s crafted for you.

"My god, my god. For I have sinned against you so. The mistakes I cannot fix or change, I pray for your forgiveness." Your unmoving, unchangeable eyes stared at him with an expression so familiar to him, one who worshiped you in this temple for centuries.

"From allowing myself to be tricked, to the lack of devotion I felt to you in Guizhong's death and finally with how I treated a servant of yours with disdain. Envious, I am envious to an extent that I shouldn't hold to my righteous god like you. Even now I still haven't broken the habit of referring to you as 'my' god."

Once again, just like the first time, Teyvat seems to overwhelm you with his feelings. You stare at his back as his lips murmur the words of devotion without an end in sight. Silently, you accept his offering, this first one was only to put the last nail in the coffin of you being an oracle.

The sky darkens as Zhongli's hand crumbles into a pile of primogems that dissolve into the air. Blue and purple stars dance across the sky as a lone gold star makes its way closer.

You didn't plan to always accept his offerings. After all you did lose a 50/50 to him and was forced to put up with his paranoid possessiveness in regards to your creator self. Shouldn't you make him lose a few times to even the score?

The gold star shines brighter and bigger as Zhongli gazes at it with a smile purer than anything he's ever felt since his creation at your hands. It flies through the window enveloping him and the whole room with a beaming light.

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

When his eyes open, the skylight shows the sunny sky but he can already feel his connection to you stronger. The brilliance you bore shines beautifully in him like a star he wished to keep hidden for only him to see.

It worked, it worked! There is no need for him to be wary or envious of you for claiming to be so close to the creator anymore. In fact, you were a sign specifically designed for someone like him. A sign that the creator had not grown complacent in simply watching Teyvat, you were now showing interest in coming back soon. And through you, he can find out details about the creator that were kept secret all these millennia.

A wide and joyful grin is bared with obsession tangling within it. He turns his head to where you stood and his smile drops abruptly when all he's greeted with is an empty spot.

He built this temple for him and the creator to enjoy in privacy due to his possessive nature born from his dragon lineage, yet the sight of Y/N who up and vanished after fulfilling their duty struck his core like the abyssal gunk that used to constantly corrupt his body.

You may have left, you may think that he wouldn't treat you, a fellow devoted servant well due to his earlier behavior. And he understands that, he truly does but that simply means he has to rectify his mistake before it's too late. You were a mere human while him, a god.

Finding you before any terrible consequences from his mistakes won't take too long.

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

Unaware of the dragon's changing tune, you eye the Dragon-Queller tree from outside the temple with interest. After all the work you've done thus far, indulging yourself with a nice close up of the magnificent landmark would be a good treat for yourself.

This one took a while and it was edited by the same jerk. I really hope all the work was worth it and that the next part can be done faster. But as my college is starting this early Sep, it might be even longer. Genshin's lore is a hot mess so I tried my best to keep it simple while touching on the important parts. All the lore I put in is almost completely accurate. If you don't include the sagau parts. If your name is italic then that means I couldn't tag you. I manually put everyone so hopefully this fixes the notifications problems. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0

#whisp's amateur work #genshin impact #genshin sagau #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau oracle au #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere zhongli #sagau #yandere morax #yandere rex lapis

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turtletaubwrites · 3 months

Text

Numbers Game ~ Part 1

Thank you @discordantwritings for this request! I've been so excited to write some Cross Guild shenanigans, I hope you enjoy it! Also, this will be part 1 because I did turn it into a whole ass thing, lol. Just a miniseries, I swear!

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader (Eventual smut, but not this chapter. Reader is in a relationship with Buggy first, then meets the others in this chapter.)

Word Count: 2863

Ao3 Link

Summary: You left your stable/boring life as an investment banker to have some adventure. Unfortunately, that sweet Warlord of the Sea didn't follow your financial advice, and now you and your clown are at the mercy of his biggest lender and his new business partner.

Rating/Warnings: Eventual Smut, 18+, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Alcohol, Swearing, Angst, Established Relationship, Canon Typical Violence, Manipulation, mention/brief threat of slavery, Humiliation, Blood and Violence, Pet names, Power Imbalance, Crocodile is a villain

A/N: The reader starts out with Buggy, so Crocodile and Mihawk will be enemies to the reader at first. Crocodile in particular is a VILLAIN toward the reader at first, threatening violence and there's a mention of paying off debts by selling Buggy and reader into slavery, as he threatened in the anime. Please do not read this if toxic, threatening relationships are triggering for you. Dynamics will shift after the initial chapters, but he's still a villain and I wrote him that way in this fic. It's very much dark romance style/bad guys need love too/Mafia boss type vibe.

Fuck, my sister was right.

“Hurry it up, Y/N, it’s time to go!”

“But, Captain Buggy,” you matched his near frantic whisper, “Your crew are calling for you. Don’t you need to give them orders?”

“Fine, fine! Just keep packing!”

You barely heard the commands and lies that he spewed from the balcony, your hands shaking as your mistakes blared through your mind.

You’d been so bored. You had a good, stable life. You were great at your job. You’d started at a bank, and soon you were managing investments for wealthy clients who didn’t want to do their own work to stay wealthy.

You were so good with numbers. So good at helping your clients make smart, safe choices.

Yet here you were, about to get killed by the fucking Navy because you’d wanted a little adventure.

The screams started getting louder, and you heard what had to be explosions, luckily not close by. Yet.

Kat told me this clown would get me killed.

Tears burned in your eyes as you pictured your sister’s face, pinched with worry and shock.

“He works for the government now! I’m going to help run his organization, I’ll handle the finances, and his mercenaries will help the Navy out.”

“Are you fucking insane? He’s a Warlord! Not some Navy officer,” Kat almost yelled, face red as she leaned toward you.

“I… He’s different, okay. He’s really sweet,” you mumbled, looking down as your fingers twisted in your lap.

“Oh my fucking gods, Y/N, did you fuck that clown? What has gotten into you?”

You didn’t know what you were grabbing and packing, tears streaming freely now.

“Captain! The warships around the island are getting attacked!”

“Who’s helping us,” Buggy screamed, and the confusion and hope in his voice made you drop everything.

Racing to the balcony, you were just in time to watch two Navy warships go down in flames.

Desperate hope filled you now, and you reached for his hand.

He pulled away as news of who your savior was came closer, shouts of triumph sending chills through you, freezing Buggy in place.

“It’s Crocodile! He really does work for Chairman Buggy! We’re saved!”

Crocodile. Crocodile!

All those berries, drained away with Buggy’s antics. All those berries that you were technically supposed to be in charge of.

All of it was Crocodile’s.

“Buggy, Buggy, please. Where can we hide?”

He turned at your hoarse whisper, his mouth hanging wide in shock.

“Buggy!”

“We don’t have the money to pay him. He’s gonna kill me!”

His strained voice grated your nerves as you pulled on his hand, dragging him away from the balcony, and the adoring eyes of his henchmen.

He was near babbling as you pulled him along, searching for anywhere to hide.

A frustrated sob left your throat as you remembered what you’d been feeling recently, even with his idiotic spending, and refusal to listen to your words of reason.

I thought I was falling for him.

But the sight of him falling apart now, not only failing to protect you, but even himself, was making you regret every single moment.

Your heart felt raw, burning more with each yank on his hand, especially since his hand was only connected to that fucking pouch he likes to wear.

Then that hand was torn away from yours, Buggy’s yelp making you jump.

Buggy went flying over your head, sliding down the hallway with a grunt.

Before you could turn around, you were encased in someone's shadow. You shook as you felt the heat of a body, inches from you. The first thing you saw was the glinting gold of a massive hook, then you had to crane your neck.

Towering above you was a man in lavish clothes, a purple vest with an orange scarf, and a fur coat. He seemed to be ignoring you, his cigar dangerously close to dropping ash onto your hair.

You felt like prey, like a rabbit. Shivering in fear, just waiting for the wolf to walk away or devour you.

“I know you,” he directed at Buggy, his deep voice rumbling through you. “I thought you’d try to flee without paying me back.”

I’m so close to him. How can he tell I’m so weak? If I had a weapon I could try to hurt him.

As if he could read your thoughts, Crocodile looked down at you, tapping his cigar off to the side before the ashes fell.

“I don’t know you.”

Your mouth gaped open as you stared into his cold, scarred face.

“Well, you see, Crocodile,” Buggy started bullshitting, moving closer. “Buggy’s Delivery Service may look like it’s doing well, but we’ve, uh… We’ve lost a lot of our big earners, and…”

Buggy trailed on, spouting excuses that made you want to scream at him, until you felt his hand grip the back of your shirt.

He slowly pulled you backward, away from Crocodile. New tears fell as your pathetic clown tried to shift his body in front of yours, shielding you.

He was too late.

The sting of cold metal wrapped around your neck as Crocodile’s hook captured you, like the prey you were.

He yanked you up, until your toes were barely scraping along the ground as he looked you over.

“If you can’t pay, clown, we can sell you into slavery. I wonder how much your woman is worth.”

“Come on, Crocodile,” Buggy drawled, inching closer again. “Don’t say such horrible things! We broke out of Impel Down together, didn’t we?”

“I lent you money for that sake,” he countered calmly, before looming over Buggy with even more danger edging his voice. “But if you can’t pay, you’ll have to take full responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” Buggy choked out, eyes flicking to you when you gasped from Crocodile's movements.

“I’m gonna found a new company, so I need money now.”

You could see the frantic wheels spinning in Buggy’s head before he puffed himself up, making his body look huge as he spread his limbs out in the red fabric.

“Then, let me help you with that business! This former Warlord of the Sea will serve under you. I’ll work off my debt! We have great resources!”

You brought your hands up to hold onto the hook as Crocodile lifted you even higher. You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose, or if he had just forgotten that he was holding you there. You watched Buggy try to sell the plan, try to save you both.

“We have advertising design, printing, transportation, and the finest financial adviser on the seas.”

Buggy emphasized the last with jazz hands shaking wildly in your direction, and you cringed.

Crocodile hummed, setting you on the ground in front of him, but still tugging on your neck with that cold metal as he looked you over. You let out a breath when he released your neck, but then the sharp point of the hook traced teasingly on your cheek, stopping your breath entirely.

“W-Wait, come on, Croc. We’re pals! You don’t need to–”

“If you’re in charge of the finances,” Crocodile breathed down on you, ignoring Buggy’s pleas, “then it’s your fault that all my money is gone, isn’t it?”

You started to shake your head, but the cold prick of metal held you frozen.

“No, it wasn’t her fault,” Buggy almost yelled, voice missing its chummy tone now. “Please, we didn’t– I didn’t follow her advice. Tell him baby, you’ve got all those plans you made, right? The investments?”

Your eyes clenched shut, a wave of tears cascading down as he defended you.

“Is that true, girl? Did you try to keep this idiot from wasting all my money?”

His breath was hot on your face as he leaned over you. Your lip quivered as you waited for him to open his jaws, and swallow you whole.

“Tell me.”

“I… I created a plan to manage those funds, using much of them to invest and create reciprocal income for the organization.”

His eyes burned into you, silently demanding more.

“Unfortunately, I was not able to go forward with those plans,” you said weakly, eyes looking down, seeking freedom from his glare.

“I wonder why that could be, hmm?”

He brought his hand to your face now, huge fingers gripping your chin to force your eyes back to his.

“Tell me why all of my money is gone. You are the financial advisor, aren’t you? Should I bleed the berries out of you?”

“No, I’m sorry,” you stuttered, eyes fluttering down again until his grip on your face became painful.

“It’s okay, baby,” you heard whispered behind you.

“Ca-Captain Buggy did not follow the financial plans that I laid out for him, or my recommendations to adjust spending when funds became low.”

Crocodile’s lip twitched up, and he released you, making you stumble.

He reached for Buggy, hitting him again until he slid across the floor.

“No, please!”

“Why are you crying for this potato sack? He nearly got you killed.”

The menacing man sighed as you failed to speak, then grabbed Buggy by the hair.

“Don’t worry, we’re not killing him yet. Go get your paperwork, I wanna see if you really are a numbers girl.”

Shame flooded you as you nodded, doing nothing as Buggy was dragged away like trash.

There’s nothing I can do. Numbers, money, that’s all I’m good at.

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that you are really good at that. And maybe that skill could help you get out of here alive.

Maybe I can help Buggy after all.

That sliver of hope vanished when you walked through the door, your briefcase in hand.

Off to the side you saw Buggy’s officers, eating and laughing happily, as if nothing had happened.

As if their Captain’s head wasn’t dangling from Crocodile's hand, bruised and bloodied while that hook kept shoving against his skin.

Crocodile was seated on the plush, green couch, using Buggy’s limp body as a foot rest. He held Buggy’s head over the middle of the couch, between him and another man.

The other man’s cold, amber eyes felt like blades through your skin as you froze in the doorway. You recognized him, though you’d hoped you’d never meet the swordsman in person.

Dracule Mihawk. What the fuck has my life turned into?

Buggy coughed, spitting out a piece of paper. That stupid fucking flyer his men had made.

They hadn’t even waited for approval before spending the money on printing and distributing it. You’d wanted to strangle every fucking dumbass that touched it when you saw the bill.

“The word ‘humiliation’ isn’t enough to express how I feel,” Crocodile growled, as Buggy apologized for the Cross Guild poster, showing Buggy as their leader.

“As much as I’d like to kill him,” Mihawk mused, his voice filled with calm disdain, “it’s not a bad idea to have him as our figurehead. I would rather live peacefully than become an Emperor of the Sea.”

He stood gracefully, heading to the counter to pour himself a glass of wine. He turned to look back, his head tilted like an animal watching for prey.

“Let him take the heat, and we can get rid of him whenever we want.”

“You’re right,” Crocodile laughed, shoving his hook into Buggy’s mouth.

You let out a choked gasp, grateful that they weren't going to kill him now, but feeling the looming threat that the future held.

And there were Galdino, Alvida, and even Mohji and Cabaji, ignoring his pain, laughing and stuffing their faces. Their betrayal made you ache for Buggy.

Until you remembered the danger you were still in.

I’m betraying him too. I’m going to work for these men. I’m going to stay alive.

“Who is this,” Mihawk drawled as he took his seat again.

“Uh, I–”

“This might be our numbers girl. If she proves herself,” Crocodile threatened, dropping Buggy’s head onto the floor behind the couch, before patting the cushion beside him.

“Come here, girl. Show us how useful you can be.”

With wide eyes, you walked toward them, avoiding stepping on Buggy’s body as you sat between the two terrifying men.

Crocodile’s arm rested on the back of the couch behind you, so you sat slightly forward, avoiding his touch.

Mihawk tilted toward you, and you found yourself staring at the beautifully embroidered details of his black and gold coat, avoiding looking at his bare chest and abs between the rich fabric.

He cleared his throat, making you jolt, before bringing your shaky fingers to unlatch the briefcase. You struggled, gasping when Mihawk reached over your lap to open it for you.

“Gods, Galdino, will you bring this girl a drink," Crocodile huffed, and you could feel his eyes on you. "Where the fuck did the clown pick up such a skittish little thing, huh?”

You focused on your paperwork, pulling out some of the plans you’d initially brought to help manage the funding Crocodile had provided.

Mihawk took them gingerly from your hands as Galdino passed you a glass of wine. You were sure that he must be pissed at being ordered to serve you like a waiter.

You chugged the whole glass of wine, closing your eyes while Crocodile chuckled, and Mihawk reviewed your work.

“It’s well done,” he praised, handing it to his partner. “These skills will be helpful with getting this operation running.”

“As long as the idiots in charge actually listen, of course” Crocodile joked, flipping through the pages.

He tossed the papers aside, motioning for Galdino to fill your glass again.

“Sorry about all of that in the hallway. You work for us now.”

“Okay,” you breathed out, barely audible.

The back of his hook touched your face, the smooth metal guiding you to look at him.

He studied you for a moment, and your brain tried to make sense of him, of what was happening. His black hair was slicked back, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. The long scar across the middle of his face made your brain hurt. You couldn’t imagine what kind of wound that must have been.

His deep set eyes were judging you, and you fought every instinct to hold his gaze instead of running.

Finally, he let out a low laugh.

“When I find something of value, I protect it. Do your job well, and you’ll be taken care of. Better than with this clown, that’s for sure.”

You winced as his foot dug into Buggy’s body, eliciting a moan from the man who’d brought you here.

Chewing the inside of your lip, you sipped on your second drink as they discussed plans to announce the lie that Buggy really is the leader.

They don’t need me here. I’ll just go to my room.

Each time you almost stood, or asked to be excused, your brain went blank. You just sat there, between these two ex Warlords, these two men who radiated power. The night went on, until all of Buggy’s betrayers trickled out.

“Wait.”

Crocodile’s deep voice commanded as you stood to follow Alvida and Galdino out, desperate to not be alone with these men. But here you were.

“What’s your name? Unless you want us to call you Numbers Girl.”

You settled on the couch, still sitting away from the back to keep from leaning against Crocodile’s arm.

“It’s Y/N.”

“I am curious, Y/N,” Mihawk spoke up, swirling his wine in its glass. “How such an intelligent and attractive woman ended up with this pathetic clown.”

“Please, leave her alone,” Buggy’s weak voice creaked up from behind the couch.

“It’s just curiosity,” Mihawk continued, and you couldn’t help meeting his golden gaze, his large hat tilting down toward you.

“Come, Y/N,” Crocodile joined in, “I could use a laugh. How did you end up with Buggy?”

“We… We met at a bar.”

They stared, and your skin practically crawled at the pressure for more.

“I’m an– I was an investment banker. I was having a drink after work, and overheard Buggy discussing his new organization. I offered my services.”

You shifted your head slightly to look back and forth at them, and their confused faces almost made you laugh. Almost.

“Why,” Crocodile asked, his deep voice almost dangerous as he demanded an explanation. Mihawk just cleared his throat, and took another sip.

You wanted to comfort Buggy. To remind him that you’d been drawn to him. That he was funny, and sweet, and that your time together that night was what made you want to join him.

But you knew the real reason you chose to go with Buggy, and you knew they’d only punish you both if you talked about being with him. So you told the truth.

“I was bored.”

It felt like the air around you shifted. The weight of their stares, and the sound of their low laughter made your skin flush with heat.

They both leaned forward, surrounding you as they brought their glasses to tap against yours.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Crocodile’s husky voice rumbled beside you. “You won’t be bored with us.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! It hurt beating up my Buggy boy like this, but I made it through, lol

Part 2

#cross guild x reader #buggy x reader #mihawk x reader #crocodile x reader #reader Insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #fic requests #inbox #x reader #turtletaub fics #eventual smut #mine #one piece fanfic #buggy fanfiction #sir crocodile x reader #dracule mihawk x reader

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zepskies · 4 months

Text

Being Human – Part 1

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: This is technically my first Dark Angel story, since I wrote Part 1 of this before "Bullseye." It will be four parts. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: You’ve managed to keep things playful and friendly with Alec so far, despite his flirtatious nature. But when he asks you for a favor that goes painfully awry, the transgenic has to figure out something that wasn’t in his training: how to apologize. [Set during 2.06]

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Tension, angst, spiciness, implied smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: Training Day

As sad as it is, this is probably your favorite place in the world.

Crash is as divey as a dive bar can get. And yet, it still boasts the strongest, cheapest drinks in Seattle. The music is decent, and the company is good. At least tonight it is, because you’ve met up with Max, Original Cindy, and Sketchy after a long day of slinging packages.

The only problem?

The newest member of Jam Pony, slinking up from the corner of your eye and easing into the seat next to you at the bar.

You turn an expectant gaze to Alec McDowell and his flirtatious green eyes. They take in your jeans and halter top with an obvious perusal.

“Can I help you?” you ask dryly.

“No, no. It’s what I can do for you,” he replies. You’re about to roll your eyes when he adds, “Let me buy you a beer. Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Just then, the bartender slides you the beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you retort. Glancing around the bar, you note three other girls you’ve already seen him shoot his shot with tonight.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. Your face warms at his proximity.

Damn, he smells good, you think.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

His smile makes your heart beat faster, though you eye him wryly. He opens his smartass mouth to say something else, but you get a reprieve when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink.

It gives you just enough confidence to smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

Alec is still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

“Don’t wanna get clowned, don’t act like a clown,” you tell him sweetly.

“I know that’s right,” Cindy quips. She orders a Cosmo to upgrade her beer. She must’ve won a bet tonight, if she was able to score enough cash for liquor.

“Hilarious,” Alec says. He pouts a little. “Hey, I’m not some mongrel on the loose. I’m just looking for some honest companionship.”

“Honest?” you laugh. “Now that’s hilarious.”

He gives you a fake laugh, but he watches you go when you slip away from him to join Max and Sketchy in the back room by the pool table. Alec’s smile fades a little.

Cindy raises a brow at him, along with a tan finger.

“No,” she says. “You actually crushin’ on homegirl? For real?”

Alec glances at her. “Where’d you get that idea?”

She gives him a flat look.

“Should I burn some sage?” she asks.

Alec shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Come on. I think Max is calling us over.”

When the two of them venture over to where you and Max are playing a game of pool, Alec’s cocky smile is back. His eyes catch yours when he sits down at a nearby table. Your lips curve while you lean on your pool cue.

For the past few weeks, this is how it’s always been with you and Alec. Push and pull. A sort of caustic flirtation that you can’t in good conscience take seriously. But to his credit, he always tries.

And he seems to always mean it.

You’ll never admit it, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to resist the pull of him. He’s clearly a guy who doesn’t do attachments, and you have a bad habit of getting attached. Your life is hard enough without adding a dash of heartbreak into the mix.

So Max helps you sharpen your skills at this game while you finish your beer. And…maybe you “unintentionally” tease Alec a little with the curve of your ass when you’re bent over the table, lining up a shot.

In fairness, you’re a bit tipsy.

You spend the rest of the night drinking two more beers and laughing and losing the game—first to Max, then to Alec, and finally to Sketchy. By then, you know it’s time to cut your losses.

You haul your backpack onto your shoulder and start to head out of the bar. But who should slip into your way than Alec freakin’ McDowell?

“Hey, I’ve got a quick question for you,” he says.

You sigh. “Alec, the usual sniping was fun, but I’m tired and I want to go home.”

He stops you with a touch on your arm. He seems slightly more serious.

“It’s a favor,” he says, pulling out a small rectangular package wrapped in plain brown paper. You look down at it in confusion.

“I saw on the work chart that you’re scheduled to go over to Sector 4 tomorrow,” he says. “Would you mind delivering this for me?”

Your brows raise at him. He raises $20 in front of your face.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he smiles.

You take the $20 and the package, though you’re still a little uncertain.

“What’s in it?”

Alec leans in close to your ear. “I’ll give you an extra $10 if you don’t ask.”

His voice washes over you and makes your skin prickle. You’re blushing, but your eyes narrow at him further.

“Make it $20,” you counter.

He scoffs. Though after a moment…he coughs up the extra cash.

“The most expensive damn delivery I’ve never made,” he mutters.

You have to crane your neck a bit, as he stands over a head taller than you, but you smile up at him brightly.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you say.

For him, maybe the expense was worth it to get that smile.

You pull up on your bike to what you think is the right address. You don’t usually come to this side of town, even in Sector 4.

It feels a bit like a shanty town and a meat packing district all at once—complete with dodgy-looking street vendors and unmarked vans loading and unloading cargo behind them.

“Can I help you, little girl?”

You stifle a gasp as your path is suddenly obstructed. A black man and his two white friends have crowded around your bike, but they don’t look normal. Various metal spikes and prods protrude from their faces, neck, and body, but they’re not your typical piercings. The metal is fused into their skin.

Oh shit, you think, as your heartrate picks up. Steelheads.

“I’m just making a delivery,” you tell them. Your eyes dart to your surroundings, trying to catch anyone’s gaze for a little help.

But in big cities like this, everyone knows to keep their eyes down.

Don’t look, don’t tell. Don’t get any trouble.

“I think you might be lost, love,” says one of the other men. He’s British, by the sound of his accent, and is the taller of the two. His skin is pale, though there’s a red ring under his eyes that suggests drugs, or whatever else these three are injecting into themselves.

“Uhh, yeah. I must be. I’ll just go,” you nod, and you start to back up. The ringleader Brit clamps a bony hand on your bike to stop you. He grabs the scrap of paper Alec gave you, which holds the address for your intended delivery.

The Steelhead examines it lazily, before his gaze flicks back up to yours.

“Well, well. I stand corrected,” he says. He gestures to the small package in your hands. “What’s in it?”

You shrug and try to play off your ignorance. Because the truth is, you have no idea.

“It’s not my job to know,” you reply.

“Ah, but you see, it’s our business to know,” the Brit says, leaning in towards you. You lean back with pursed lips.

“This is our little piece of paradise,” says the shortest one. His lips are damn near purple.

“We’re what you call…territorial,” says the leader. He grabs you off your bike while the first man takes the package from you.

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” you say, though you hate the way your voice shakes. “I can just go—”

“Oh, we’ll let you go, little mouse. You’re gonna give a message back to sender,” the Brit says. “But first, a reminder.”

He shoves you back into the nearest wall. It’s solid brick that stuns a gasp out of you. He presses in on you, grabbing your face and dragging a sharp, unnaturally long nail against your cheek, biting into the skin.

It’s painful enough to make you whimper as you feel wetness drip down to your neck. His friends laugh at your discomfort, at your fear. You’re too frozen to reach for the pepper spray in your pocket…

“What’s going on here?” another man asks. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a black uniform. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful to see a cop.

The Steelhead releases you, and the three of them are subtle in the way they back off from you.

“Nothing here, officer,” the leader says. Though he gives you a smirk. “Just accepting a delivery.”

You let them keep the package and pretend that a signature has made it onto your clipboard. You climb back onto your bike and you leave Sector 4 without looking back. All the while, your arms shake and you wipe at the blur of tears in your eyes.

When you get back to the Jam Pony base of operations (a warehouse that feels like a basement), you park your bike out front and head inside.

Your legs still feel precarious. And even though the blood is dry against the cut on your cheek, you know you need to clean and disinfect it at some point.

Of course, you have to run into Alec and Sketchy, who are palling around without a care in the world.

That all stops when they turn to look at you. Their mirth dies on their faces. Alec’s gaze runs over you and stops at your cheek. You dab at your face, tentative and self-conscious. You know you must look like hell. Of course, they can’t let you just go to your locker in peace.

“Jeez, what the hell happened to you?” Sketchy asks.

You shake your head. “Fell into a bush.”

You drag Alec aside by his arm, giving him a warning look that further lets him know you’re lying. He follows you without complaint over to the lockers, where you two have the semblance of privacy. Before he can ask you what really happened, you snap at him.

“What the hell was in that package?” you ask. “Drugs? A weapon? Some other contraband? Do you know what could’ve happened to me if I’d gotten caught with that shit? Do you know what almost…”

Tears burgeon in your eyes all over again, and you have to take a deep, shaky breath.

Alec’s brows furrow in what might actually be concern. He grasps your arm, gentle but firm.

“Hey, tell me what happened,” he says.

Unconsciously, his grip on your arm makes the memory flash in your mind: of that pale, greasy man grabbing you and pinning you against the wall.

You shrug out of Alec’s hold more harshly than you meant to. It makes him raise a placating hand, as his eyes widen a fraction.

“A gaggle of Steelheads,” you say. You breathe tremulously, blinking past your tears. “I was lucky…anyway. Next time you want to ask me for a favor? Don’t.”

You brush past Alec to get to your locker. There you grab the rest of your things and head out, though it’s quite a few hours before closing time. Nothing gets by Normal, who stops you at the reception desk.

“Hey, hey, Missy! Where the hell’re you going?” he asks. “Get back here. I’ve got packages that need homes.”

“I’m taking some much needed PTO,” you quip.

“You don’t have PTO. It’s not that kind of business,” Normal says.

“Then bite me,” you snap. “How’s that?”

Most of the room stills into quiet shock. You feel the weight of their gazes, your coworkers and friends, including Normal’s slackened face.

You’re normally not one to talk back. You accept your assignments without question, not wanting to cause undue trouble for yourself. Like everyone else here, you need your job, and you have nothing to fall back on.

But it’s enough, and you’re thoroughly done with today.

Your saving grace is that it’s plain to see how shaken up you are, even when you leave. Alec approaches the receptionist desk with Sketchy, drumming his hand on the counter absently.

“What the hell crawled up her keister?” Normal remarks. “She’s lucky I’m short staffed right now, or she’d be in the can.”

Despite his strong talk, he resumes collecting paperwork and organizing files to distract himself from how much you’d taken him aback.

Alec frowns.

“She uh, had to deal with some Steelheads,” he offers, and hesitates. “...What the hell’s a Steelhead?”

“Yeah, you know, they’re into implants and biotech stuff,” Sketchy explains.

“She would know better than to hang out with those low lives,” Normal interjects. “They’re amped off their gourds on hormones and who knows what else.”

Alec processes that with a deepening frown. He decides to head out onto his next “delivery.”

He makes it to Sector 4 on his bike within an hour, but he still envies Max’s motorcycle. When he racks up enough cash, he’s definitely scoring a faster ride.

For now, he pulls up near the address he sent you to earlier. He never should’ve given you his drugs to sell, especially when he clearly doesn’t know this city well enough yet.

Poor reconnaissance, Alec, he thinks. Sloppy.

Though when did he start to think of himself as Alec and not by his designation, 494?

He’s soon taken out of his musings when he sees a gaggle of three men outside a cargo van. Each of them is uglier than the last, with metal spikes, among other things sticking out from their bodies. Steelheads. They’ve got to be.

These are the guys who harassed you.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Alec says, climbing off his bike. The men turn to the newcomer with suspicious frowns.

“I’m looking for three fugly Steelheads that hassled a friend of mine this morning,” he says.

One is tall, pale and wiry, and he opens his arms wide. “Well, you found ‘em.”

He has a British accent. The sight of him alone grates on Alec, though all he shows is calm confidence. He teases the short one, who seems to be missing an arm. Apparently he’s “pre-op,” set to get a new cyber arm made of Japanese steel.

Fucking wackos, Alec thinks. Manticore could learn a thing or two from these guys about mutilation.

“Here’s the thing, fellas,” Alec says. “My friend was carrying a package that didn’t belong to her. It belonged to me. You guys took it, and I need to get it back.”

The first man scoffs. “There seems to be a breakdown in communication, doesn’t it?”

He approaches Alec, hands on his hips, with his two cronies behind him. Alec can already smell their stench from where he stands. He doesn’t need them to get any closer.

“Maybe your little bitch didn’t relay our message,” he says, pushing his luck.

Alec’s smile sharpens; a deadly warning in and of itself.

“Nobody around here sells Andy but us,” says another of them.

Androxtamine. Alec didn’t care to be a drug dealer. It was just a means to an end in order to pay Max back for her help a little while back. Now, his buyer is pissed that he didn’t get his damn drugs, and Alec is out $500.

He tries to explain that calmly to this group of weirdos, but the leader is just so damn cocky.

“What’s a puff like you need with $500 anyway, eh?” he asks.

Alec’s smirk deepens. He mimics the guy’s accent and replies, “Actually, I need it for a ride on your mum.”

Well, the Steelheads don’t take too kindly to that. They try their best, Alec will hand it to them. But his genetics and training make the resulting “fight” no more than child’s play. He takes his frustrations out of their asses.

He can’t help being slightly more brutal than necessary when he remembers the fear lingering behind your eyes. The bloody cut on your cheek. The way it could’ve been so much worse…

And it would’ve been your fault. Alec’s lips press into a line.

Logan Cale, Max’s rich non-boyfriend and secret “Eyes Only” vigilante, calls Alec halfway through his venting session to, surprisingly, ask for his help.

Alec agrees, because it’s mainly for Max. A creature has been killing cops in Seattle. Unfortunately, the description of a “man-dog” sounds way too much like Joshua, their fellow transgenic in hiding.

It also means Alec has to spend most of his afternoon in a musty sewer.

The job ends up being a bitch and a half, even when Max finally shows up to help out. The true culprit ends up being Joshua’s brother, Isaac, who Joshua is forced to stop before he kills any more policemen who remind him of Manticore’s abusive guards.

The gentle Joshua ends up having to take out his own brother. Something that’s both familiar, and foreign to Alec. (But he’s sure it’s not so foreign to Max.)

It’s a harrowing scene, and a touch too emotional for Alec’s comfort. He leaves Max to tend to Joshua in the aftermath and catches a ride home with Logan. Somehow though, as bone tired and grimy as he feels, Alec can’t feel right about going home just yet.

Something is niggling in the back of his mind, forcing him to hand Logan a scrap of paper that holds your address. (Alec might’ve snuck into Normal’s office before he left for the day to find out where you lived on your employee file.)

“Hey, can you stop at this address?” Alec asks.

Logan glances at the piece of paper and nods. He then looks over at Alec. They aren’t friends, but Logan is perceptive enough to know that something’s weighing on his passenger.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks.

“There’s something I have to do,” Alec supplies.

When they eventually arrive to what seems like an abandoned building, Logan looks over at Alec.

“Good luck,” he offers.

Alec nods gratefully. They aren’t friends, but he supposes Logan’s not so bad, even if he is a slave to Max’s supposed charms.

Alec gets out of the car and head inside the building. It’s old and dirty, and he really can’t believe you live like this. It lacks security and basic hygiene. If he wanted to, he could kick straight through your door with half of his strength.

Instead, he knocks.

A few moments later, he hears your feet padding cautiously to the door.

“Who is it?” you ask. Your voice is familiar and pleasant to his ears, if nervous.

“It’s me, Alec,” he replies.

It takes a second of your hesitation, but you unlock the door and open it.

He eyes your tank-top and shorts, the thin bra, your damp hair, the smell of your shampoo assaulting his heightened senses.

But the jagged red line across your cheek draws his attention, along with the confusion in your eyes, and the wooden spoon in your hand. Was that supposed to be your weapon of choice?

“What’re you doing here?” you ask. “How’d you even know where I live?”

“Ah, I told Normal I wanted to check on you. Make sure you weren’t going AWOL on the job tomorrow,” Alec says with a teasing smile.

You look a bit skeptical, but you let him in when he asks if he can. He smells whatever you’re cooking, spots the metal pot of pasta sauce simmering on the janky-looking stove, and his mouth starts to water. He’s starving, now that he thinks about it.

He then focuses on taking in the rest of the apartment…and it doesn’t take him long. This place is a shoebox.

At least it’s clean, as much as the peeling drywall can be.

“Why’re you here then?” you ask. Alec turns to see you have a hand on your hip. You’re staring at him like he’s a puzzle you’re trying to figure out.

You set down the wooden spoon on the counter and face him. Alec’s tempted to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes, but he keeps his arms down to his sides instead.

“About what happened today,” he says. “Those guys aren’t going to be a problem for you again.”

You tilt your head at him.

“What’d you do?” you ask with furrowed brows. “Something shy of legal?”

Alec starts to smile. “Maybe.”

You hmph in response. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Alec barely resists rolling his eyes, though he knows he deserves that. Once again, he takes in your apartment. It’s cozy, he supposes, if small.

“You live alone?” he asks. “No roommate? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” you say dryly. “But no. To both.”

That satisfies him, and yet there’s a little churn in his gut. This place is questionable at best. Doesn’t exactly boast decent security. He’s not too worried about the Steelheads trying to find you, but after the past few months outside of Manticore, he realizes how rough it’s become for humanity after the Pulse, especially for a woman alone.

“You could use a doorman around here,” he remarks.

You scoff in amusement. “Yeah, well. It may not be the Ritz, but as long as the heater doesn’t crap out on me, it’s a decent day.”

Alec doesn’t know what the Ritz is, but it sounds nicer than this dump.

You catch the silent look of judgment on his face, making you frown and cross your arms.

“I can take care of myself just fine, okay, Dad?”

Alec frowns and gestures to your face. “Yeah. Right. You’re little miss Fight Club.”

That sparks your temper. You glare up at him with a defiant tilt to your chin.

“This,” you point to your marred cheek, “wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you. I’m not an idiot. I don’t put myself in stupid situations, except for that one time I ignored my better judgment to help you!”

Alec glowers back at you, but he knows he doesn’t have a good defense. You take a step into his orbit and tap a finger into his chest.

“And by the way,” you add. Your voice cracks like a whip. “Whoever taught you how to apologize did a bang up job!”

By the end of your little rant, you’re breathing deeply, and Alec is barely holding onto his own temper. What cuts through it all are the frustrated tears brimming in your eyes.

He sighs internally.

They didn’t exactly cover this in training, he thinks, but he supposes that's just…Being Human 101.

All too soon, your anger dims into defensiveness. You withdraw from him and gesture to the door.

“Now if you don’t mind, please get out of my shithole apartment so I can finish cooking in peace,” you gripe.

“Wait, wait,” Alec implores, when you try to lead him out. He lets you back him up a step or two, just to seem human, but now he digs his heels in. He looks down at you with true regret.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His hand finds your unmarred cheek, caressing softly. His thumb swipes across your skin. “I am. I shouldn't have asked you to make that delivery. I'm sorry you got hurt.”

You stare up at him, breathing labored, and making your breasts just barely brush his sternum. Your eyes search his just as much as he is yours.

He isn’t actually sure who moves first, him or you. But when his lips meet yours, it feels like electricity under his skin. It’s magnets that are meant to connect—it’s his arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands and you grabbing his face, sinking your fingers into his sandy brown hair.

It’s teeth clicking and tongues warring as he backs you up to the kitchen counter, and he hefts you up there by your hips.

You squeal in surprise, making Alec chuckle before he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

You start to push his jacket off his shoulders, and he helps you, letting the rest of it slide right off, followed by his shirt and your tank top. His hands smooth up your bare thighs and his thumbs dip in between, squeezing near the apex of your thighs and making you tremble against his chest. Warmth pools in your core even from that simple touch.

“W-Wait,” you whisper.

It makes Alec pause. His muscles tense. Has he read you wrong?

He searches your face for a sign of discomfort. If you don’t want this, it’ll be…hard, at this point (for more reasons than one). But if he has to, he’ll let you go.

He’s relieved when you only twist away for a moment to turn off the stove. You return to him with a smile as your hands come to rest on his chest. You bite your lower lip.

“Shall we continue?” he teases.

His thumb encourages you to let go of your lip. He takes your chin between his fingers and guides you back to him.

The next kiss burns with a slower passion. One that consumes you enough to hook your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips.

He grins against your lips and lifts you again, this time holding you firmly against him. You make another sound of surprise, but you don’t let that stop you from delving deeper into his kiss.

He carries you into the bedroom and slams the rickety door.

Afterwards, the two of you lay together on the wrong side of your bed.

Alec lies on his stomach and you on your back. The night had gotten such that you stopped caring which side you typically put your pillow on. Your hair is fanned out on the mattress in many tangles he took pride in creating.

A shitty show plays on your small TV, but Alec is watching with rapt attention.

He’s kind of cute about it actually, you think. Like he’s never seen a soap opera before.

“Ooh, that one’s my favorite,” you point backwards. “It’s about a sexy doctor, obviously.”

“Right, because I’m sure doctors always have this much sex with their patients,” Alec quips.

You snort and shake your head. You stare at the side of his face for a moment, rather than the TV.

The back of his hand rubs against your shoulder, earning your attention.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks. He’s still looking at the screen.

“That I’m even hungrier now, but I don’t feel like getting up,” you admit with a giggle. He laughs.

“I wouldn’t mind some chow,” he says.

You roll onto your stomach, taking some of the sheets with you when your knee slides over, resting against his naked lower back. You lean your chin on his shoulder as your hand travels across his back.

“Is that your way of inviting yourself over for dinner?” you ask.

He looks over at you then. He’s grinning, but his eyes are a touch softer, you think.

“If you don’t mind me crashing,” he says.

You shake your head and sift your fingers through his hair. Your gaze drifts down the back of his neck and catches on a strange mark. It’s a barcode, you realize, touching it lightly with two fingers.

“What’s this? A prison tat?” you tease.

He chuckles humorlessly. “Sort of.”

Your amusement fades, but your soft fingers along the back of his neck elicit a small shiver out of him. Your touch is gentle. He isn’t used to gentle, and it makes goosebumps spread across his skin. He feels your lips press a kiss to his shoulder next, and he turns his head to look at you.

Beautiful, he thinks, taking in your face again, and the hint of cleavage down the sheets covering you, hiding the familiar curves he had all too much fun exploring.

“You gonna tell me the story?” you ask. “Or save it for a rainy day?”

Alec lets out a sigh through his nose. “Let’s pencil that one under the ‘Rainy’ column.”

You nod in agreement and bite your lip. These days, everyone has a story they’re not proud of. Even something that keeps them up at night. You don’t press Alec for his.

He’s grateful for that. He leans in and kisses you, nice and slow.

From the beginning, he noticed you. Your tenacity. Your quiet confidence. How you’re always willing to help your friends, and how you’ve never taken any of his shit, even if he knew part of you had been contemplating his suggestive offers. That spark always kept him coming back for more…and somehow, it became more.

In the back of his mind, this scares him a little. Being with you feels dangerous in a way that feels both familiar and foreign, but it’s too late. He’s been hooked by the pull of you. It’s a craving he can’t help but try and fill. Hopefully, not just tonight.

“You said something about food?” he grins.

You smile and lean in again, until you’re mere inches from his lips.

“Hmm, impromptu dinner date?” you offer. Alec laughs quietly and nods.

“We kinda went about this backwards,” you say, “but if you like spaghetti and plain sauce, I’m your girl.”

He smirks at that, and thumbs at your chin.

“Then you’re my girl.”

AN: And there's Part 1! It's only my second time writing Alec, so I hope he feels in character. Let me know what you think of this little series so far. 😘💜

There's much more in store over the next three parts, and the next one tackles perhaps my favorite episode (2.11), even if it's the most gutting.

Next Time:

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore.

You kiss him then with meaning. With tenderness.

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Alec McDowell Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Alec M. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

@waters-2567 @iwishiwas-sleeping @jessjad @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @honeybabycherry @deans-spinster-witch @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @nancymcl

#Training Day #Being Human #Part 1 #alec mcdowell #alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell x you #alec mcdowell x female reader #smuttish #max guevara #original cindy #DA 2.06 #“Two”#Dark Angel #Jensen Ackles characters #Jensen Ackles #zepskies writes

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security-chief-odo · 6 months

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To Love and be Loved in Return

Roy Kent x Reader

Description: Both you and Roy Kent are in love, but of course neither of you knows your feelings are requited. Who will be the first to spill the beans?

Chapter 1 - World’s Greatest Boss

Word Count: 1k

• • •

You have been working as a coaching assistant for AFC Richmond for the past six months. Though your job technically speaking is to assist the entire coaching staff, in reality, you were hired to manage Roy Kent.

Though he is an excellent coach, he is god awful at things like maintaining a schedule, filing any paperwork in a reasonable time frame, and generally dealing with the public. This is where you come in and make his life (and Rebecca’s) easier.

Your life on the other hand has gotten much harder as a result of this job. You have had a school girl crush on Roy since he was still playing for Chelsea. A crush you had assumed was just superficial and would fade as you got to know him as a coworker and a friend. If only life was ever that easy.

If anything, your crush has just gotten stronger because not only is Roy insanely hot, but he is kind, smart, and surprisingly funny. Perhaps more importantly though, he is sitting in front of your desk, not noticing as you stare at him.

“What do I have to get done this weekend?”

“Well, it’ll be a busy one for you. You need to go pick up your suit from the tailor tomorrow for the gala next weekend.”

He groaned, “I still don’t see why I have to go to that stupid thing.”

“It is quite literally in your job description Roy.” He rolls his eyes at that but lets you continue. “You have a game Tuesday, press conference after that. Do you have your shoes for the gala?”

“I’m not getting new shoes for that shit, I have a pair that’ll do. Do you have my talking points prepped for the press conference?” You hand over a bullet pointed page. “And if we lose?”

“You won’t, but that’s on the printer.” You turn in your chair to grab it but he's up and behind your desk already, skimming over the page.

“What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn, probably”

He chuckled at that, “Yeah, probably. So I, uh, wanted to ask before, but are you going to the gala?”

“I’m office staff, I’m not sure I’m invited”

“Of course you’re fucking invited.”

“I’ll ask Rebecca about it.”

“No need, you can be my plus one.” You stop dead in your tracks at his words. Of course you want to go to the gala with Roy but there’s no way he means it like that and sitting by his side all night just might be the death of you.

“Oh um, I don’t know”

“Come on, y/n”

“I don’t have anything to wear. My wardrobe isn’t exactly fitting for a gala”

“Then I’ll buy you a dress.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’m sure you had some model you were going to bring anyways.”

“I’m not that guy anymore, y/n. And anyways, you deserve to go, you’re part of the team” Right, part of the team. He’s being a good boss. That’s all he was ever doing.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll give Keeley my credit card and have her pick you up Saturday”

Returning to your emails, you began typing as you continued the conversation. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of an amazing boss?”

Right, you only see him as your boss. Nothing more. Probably never will be anything more. He just needed to accept that.“I don’t know that that’s the word the boys would use.”

“Well, maybe you should try buying all of them fancy dresses?”

“You know, that just might do the trick,” a smile threatens to cross his face, “but I don't think they’d look nearly as good.”

“Careful sir, don’t let Isaac hear you say that one.”

That one actually got a laugh out of him. “You’re right. Then I might have to bring him as my date instead–” His eyes widen as soon as the word ‘date’ leaves his mouth and he stumbles out, “not that I’m asking you as my date. I’m not. I just–”

Despite the sinking feeling in your gut, you let him off the hook. “Of course not Roy. I didn’t assume you were.”

“Right. Well. I’ll just leave you to uh, you know, I’ve got a meeting.” He rushed out, nearly slamming your door behind him. As soon as he was out of earshot, he groaned “Fuck.” Roy should have known better than to say anything. You are sweet and beautiful and fucking brilliant and he might have just ruined everything.

You are sitting in your office, having completed Roy’s schedule, you move on to Beard and Nate. There’s no way those meetings will be nearly as painful as your last one. You never thought Roy would return your feelings, but you figured you would at least have to ask before he could reject you.

Roy and you are clearly avoiding each other all day Thursday. He takes his lunch in his car. You don’t even leave your office. You wait until the end of the day to go meet with the assistant coaches about their calendars, hoping that Roy may have left early.

You aren’t quite so lucky and bump into him as you enter the locker room. Of course this knocks your papers out of your hands. You squat down to pick them up.

“Fuck,” he growls, “sorry.”

“It’s ok. I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going either.”

He extends a hand to help you up. Your hand feels nice in his and you both are holding hands for a moment longer than necessary before pulling away.

With nothing left to say, you find yourself looking into his kind eyes before you are interrupted by Nate.

“Oh y/n, I was just about to come grab you for our meeting.”

“Right.” you turn to Roy, “See you tomorrow!”

He waves as he walks away, not for a second noticing where your eyes were as you watched him leave. You follow Nate back into the office for your meetings with the assistant coaches, your thoughts however stay on the head coach.

• • •

Click here for chapter 2!

Let me know if you’re interested in joining my taglist, either for this series or my general taglist. Otherwise, just let me know what you think!

#reader insert #roy kent x reader #roy kent #Roy Kent/reader #idiots in love #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso #afc richmond #to love and be loved in return

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arcielee · 7 months

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My House of the Dragons masterlist. Please be mindful of each story's tags and warnings!

Call It Dreaming Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader, Aegon Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Summary: You have a delightful sex dream. Warnings: Please be mindful of the warnings for each story!

Only If For A Night Aemond Targaryen x Female! Reader, Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother. Warnings: Please be mindful of the warnings for each story! Author's Note: Choose your Targaryen adventure? Technically a WIP, but we'll see what the muses decide.

dōna mandia Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader x Aegon Targaryen [third person] Summary: Her brothers convince her to play a game. Warnings: Targcest, MDNI, 18+ Dubcon, inexperience, fingering, implied sexual themes, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, anal, double penetration, rough sex. Author’s Note: This is the smuttiest thing I have written. Enjoy!

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Aemond Targaryen

modern Aemond masterlist modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Warnings: Please be mindful of the warnings for each story! Author’s Note: Just a masterlist of my ever-growing modern Aemond Targaryen stories. Enjoy! 💜

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She Walks in Starlight Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone Summary: Greek mythology HotD AU, some Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone slow burn. Warnings: Mention of character(s) death. It’s HotD and Greek mythology, so there will be incest. Author's Note: This is complete, enjoy. 💜

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The Sapphire Prince Aemond Targaryen x OFC!Stark Summary: A Targaryen prince falls for Cregan Stark’s sister and it sets to tear apart the Hightower’s devise. Warnings: It’s a GRRM world, so please be mindful of the warnings for each chapter!

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The Dragon and the Wolf Aemond Targaryen x Stark!reader Summary: “...perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” Author's Note: This is a wip that will be just fluff between our one-eyed prince and Stark lady wife.

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Ours never knew peace. Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader [first person] Summary: On the morning of the Great Tourney of Harrenhal, Lyanna Stark's granddam visits to give her an heirloom, a necklace with a sapphire stone... Warnings: AFAB, mentions of infidelity, graphic violence, character deaths, and a hyperlink for the smut, so mind those warnings. Author’s Note: Dance of the Dragons timeline toyed with to make this tragic story flow.

There's not one thing that I would change. Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader [first person] Warnings: First POV, AFAB, lost of virginity, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v. Author's Note: This is what was implied, the smutty interlude that granddam could not read out loud to Lyanna.

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A love that burns. Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader [third person] Summary: Aemond is a man obsessed and you are the object of his unwavering devotion. Warnings: Canon book Aemond, manipulation?, sexual themes, oral (female receiving), p in v, absolute depravity and murder. Author’s Note: It is a bit Alys-coded... kind of? (I rewrote one of her lines from F&B)

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Quietly, it slips through your fingers - Part 1 Aemond Targaryen x Rhaena Targaryen Summary: Rhaena confronts Aemond after dinner. Warnings: Aemond is an asshole, but he is the consent king. Sexual inexperience, kissing, grinding, fingering. Then he is an asshole again.

We gave our time to something undefined - Part 2 Aemond Targaryen x Rhaena Targaryen Summary: Aemond receives a late night visitor. Warnings: Kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, and Aemond is still the consent king 👑.

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Ābrazȳrys dark!Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader Summary: Aemond goes to see is the king is truly dead and finds his wife instead. Warnings: dark[ish]!Aemond, Reader AFAB, noncon elements, ghostly voyeurism? rough sex, p in v unprotected, creampie, breeding kink when you squint.

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Hae iksā Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Reader Summary: Aemond has been tasked to find himself a wife. Warnings: AFAB Reader, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, grinding, p in v, overstimulation, loss of virginity implied, fat phobic comments are made and a Lannister acts like a cunt.

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Zȳha lyks Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Reader Summary: You find an ally with the second son of King Viserys. Warnings: AFAB Reader, fat phobia, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, overstimulation, loss of virginity implied.

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Aegon Targaryen

modern Aegon masterlist modern Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: Series of one-shots of your life with your boyfriend, Aegon. 💜 Warnings: Please be mindful of the warnings for each story!

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Fare Well Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: You visit Aegon after another council meeting ends. Warnings: Reader AFAB, knifeplay, object penetration, kissing, p in v, creampie, using intercourse as an escape from reality.

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Other Characters

dōna riña Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: You are enraptured by the prince and princess. Warnings: Kissing, fingering, oral (female receiving).

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Aōhon iksan Daeron Targaryen x Female!Reader [third person] Summary: Daeron has come back from Oldtown to play his role in King’s Landing and marry one of the Four Storms. Warnings: AFAB, sexual innuendo mentioned, kissing.

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At last, when all of the world is asleep Ser Erryk Cargyll x Dornish!Reader Summary: A Dornish princess is the siren call to break the vows of the Kingsguard. Warnings: AFAB reader, plotting sexual situations, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, finger licking good.

gif by @itbmojojoejo || banners by @saradika arcie's navigation

#arcielee masterlist #arcie's hotd masterlist #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daeron targaryen #ser erryk cargyll #updated 4/15

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phoenixyfriend · 2 months

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Making this its own post instead of an ask.

I divide crossovers into categories or types, and here the most basic ones.

Intrusive:

A character from one setting ends up in another, completely unrelated setting. They do not share a universe, do not share a planet, nada. This is "falls through a portal" type of crossover. EXAMPLE: A Witch's Favor, where Wanda Maximoff and Maria Rambeau (Marvel) end up in the Star Wars universe due to an unexplained spell malfunction.

Shared Verse:

The settings could theoretically, in some manner, exist in the same universe without ever intersecting. EXAMPLE: I usually use Naruto for this example, e.g. the Hidden Continent exists in the Pacific but has had minimal influence/interaction with the rest of the setting up to this point because it's magically cut off from the rest of the planet. For Star Wars, this is usually pretty easy by just putting whatever the second canon is as just. A planet in Wild Space. They exist in the same universe! They just haven't found each other yet! A great example is the fic A Star to Steer By, by @norcumii and @dogmatix. A subset of this is fics where one is the distant past of the other, like Muse on This or Red-Eyed Black Widow.

Mixed Verse:

The setting is one that involves both canons influencing each other to a degree, or being in the same verse without being a fusion AU or shared-verse. The settings exist together, both having strong worldbuilding elements of the original, but are not fully themselves and show obvious elements of the other. EXAMPLE: Unfortunately my most recent example is an HP crossover so. Please keep in mind that this is from four years ago, before R*wling outed herself as a massive bigot: Professor Storm.

Fusion:

More or less 1:1 "this character from fandom A would be this character from fandom B" or otherwise "characters from fandom A reimagined in fandom B with none of the original setting." For a long time, HP was the biggest and most constant example, but uhhh that's clearly been falling out of favor like raw eggs. I've seen a lot of good ones for Hunger Games, though, and even wrote my own, but I know some other common ones are Steven Universe (which gem are they?), AtLA (which bender type are they?), or Pokemon (what trainer type are they). Also, arguably, generic AUs that don't take place in canon-verse, like modern or historical or zombie or Generic Cyberdystopia. EXAMPLE: After Me Comes the Flood.

Element Overlay:

A world-building element from Fandom B is applied to the setting and characters of Fandom A. Common examples are Daemon AUs or Sentinel/Guide AUs. I think a fun thing to point out is that, while they don't technically have a source fandom of origin since they were developed communally by fandom, soulmate AUs and omegaverse count as well.

There are other types, like infusing the plot of one narrative into the setting and characters of the other, which is a really fun kind of fusion (I always come back to thinking about Age of Marvels by justplainrii, which only ever got three chapters but still eats at my brain sometimes), buuuuut I'd say most crossovers are some variant of the above.

#phoenix talks #star wars #naruto #girl genius #the fandom that shan't be named #phoenix babbles #marvel #hunger games #etc

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funficwriter · 6 months

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A Wolf And A Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

A little dark fairy tale I want to write~

A/N: GOOD GOLLY I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS! First off, let me warn you that this is a multi-chapter story. Each one gets more and more dark, this is just the light stuff (in comparison to what I have planned). I will do my best to have C2 out ASAP, but as I'm a grad student, it might be a while. But be assured that I am very excited for this story, so I'll do my best to write loads for it!

Synopsis: Being a noble meant that marriage was a chess game, not an affair of love. Unfortunately for the pristine Balthazar family of Fontaine, Y/N has long been enamored with love and sought it out before their priorities. After her grey, boring time of courtesy and fake niceness, she meets Duke Wriothesley, who makes her yearn for the first time in her life, and it's the same for him. Threatened by the idea of losing this first, it seems they'll stop at very little to be together...

Warnings for this chapter: Sexist marriage system, yandere Wriothesley, kinda OOC Wriothesley, yandere fem!reader, mention of sexual blackmailing (1)

Chapter 1: A Breakthrough

As a child, you loved reading. Your parents would worry about it, because while being articulate and cultured were good and necessary, you were still a girl of one of Fontaine's royal families. They didn't want you asking questions you should not, but all they could do was limit your selection by a margin you wouldn't doubt.

You liked fairy tales of all sorts. They were so intriguing through several concepts. The one that got the lion's share of your attention was love. So many of your stories ended the same way that made you warm and fuzzy: The girl is reunited with the boy she loves, he declares the same, and they're together forever. How sweet!

When you asked further about love, you'd get one of two answers. The first was: "Look at your mother and father. That's love.". However, it failed to satisfy you; While they were courteous to each other, and even made contact every now and then, they were so... Cold in comparison to your fairy tales. The dissonance could confuse an adult, never mind a child.

The second was: "Love is essentially your marriage! Once you're a little older, you'll have suitors competing for your hand, and one will be your love!".

Marriage. A funny little word that you so desperately wanted to understand beyond the technical definition. Being the daughter of a baron, you were practically raised with the word more than your parents telling you that they loved you. While a baron was among the lower royal titles, it was still a part of Fontainian royalty. Ergo, you had to take marriage seriously. Of course, marrying above your father's rank (cough, cough- A high-ranked Count or Duke-) was a pinnacle of success.

When you came of age, many predicted that you'd fare well. You were quite pretty, and with the elite tutoring you have received, you were poised, graceful... You were ready to socialize not as the baron's cute daughter, but as the lovely young Lady Balthazar, considering suitors.

Only, they missed one thing. That perfect girl I mentioned would care about love, but being a good girl, she'd prioritize standing, finances, power and the like beyond it. While you liked being taken care of, that wasn't enough. You wanted to marry like the girls in fairy tales. For your world being flipped upside down in the most beautiful way. For love.

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"Oh, remember Baron Balthazar's little daughter? She's now a maiden!".

"I saw her! She had truly inherited her grandmother's legendary beauty! I nearly choked when I first saw her-".

"And her mind is just as gorgeous! Earlier, we got to talk about Fontainian literature. I've never met such a cultured girl her age!".

It's not like you hated the praises. The party as a whole was just that: Okay. You met many unwed nobles, each being more shocked with you. With each one, your father beamed a little brighter, your mother squealed a little higher, to the point where you started questioning if there was a time where they were this happy with you.

"The nobles are enamored. Many are Dukes or Counts! This is going better than I imagined!".

Your mother turned to you: "Well, dear? Aren't you happy? Not many maidens have the opportunity to brag about bagging such important persons as you did.".

Again, nothing wrong with the (potential) suitors in particular. Everyone was nice and well-mannered, some even interesting to talk to. You'd love to have such friends, and that was your issue; Your feelings towards them did not go beyond: "I'd like being his friend.". No spark of attraction, no coup de foudre, nothing that could kickstart the feeling of love you wanted to chase, yet seldom had an idea of. With time, this would get boring. Would you really have to marry someone you found boring?

Alas, you knew the answer deep down. Unless the best suitor was also someone you fell for, you'd be lucky to go with someone you kinda liked. As you grew older, you realized that most marriages within your class were business deals, not affairs of love. Your own mother admitted that she married your father to consolidate the union between the two families.

When you were younger, you often asked her if she loved him. She'd say 'yes' without a second thought. Now, as you were heading into this, she'd tell you: "Yes, but what does it matter next to the benefits you enjoy today?".

"Mother, can I please go grab a cupcake? I didn't eat yet.".

"Alright then! Just remember, be sociable and talk as much as you can, and eat gracefully! Just like we said, and-"

"I will, I promise!".

The last thing you felt like was another etiquette lesson. At least you had some luck with food; There was one more chocolate cupcake left, and no one else seemed interested. Perhaps it would cheer you up a bit.

Celestia works in funny ways, though. Just as you reached out for it, another gloved hand landed on its other side, immediately stopping with yours. Despite your hunger, your attention diverted to the silver glove. All the men here were nobles, so he had to be too. You never saw one wearing chains and a wolf as an insignia, of all animals.

"Oh... Forgive me, I-"

Once you heard that baritone, there was no going back. You looked up to see a man quite unlike the preppy nobles you had to entertain all night. His scarred, rough appearance enthralled you more, for it was unlike anything you ever saw. And perhaps it was out of unfamiliarity, but you thought him quite gorgeous in comparison to the others.

"Oh, erm- Good evening, my Lord! Terribly sorry if I interrupted your break...".

"...No, no. It's fine, young lady, you can have it.".

"But... Um..."

The ensuing awkwardness was unbearable, but an idea emerged into your head. You split the cupcake, making sure it didn't crumb too much, then handed him one half: "Here you go, my Lord.".

He revealed a stunned expression, as if seeing something for the first time. Then he smiled and accepted the half. The grin was the most beautiful you saw on a man. It made your heart beat faster, and despite the fall, you felt stuffy and hot in that moment.

Just what the hell was going on?

"Um... May I inquire as to who you might be?".

"Of course, young Lady Balthazar. I am Wriothesley, from the Fortress of Meropide.".

You almost choked upon hearing his name. That's Duke Wriothesley! Is he? When you heard of him, you imagined a scary, much older man who didn't socialize much. On the rare occasion he did, he'd probably be left alone, with no social opportunity. And yet here you were, sharing a cupcake with him, accepting his leaning into you to listen... Among his tousled hair, the wolf ears perked your interest, too.

"I see! Forgive my surprise. It's just that I only ever heard of you."

"Don't worry, I understand.".

He was so... Appealing. You wanted those icy eyes on you. You wanted the excitement, the joy they cause by being posed on you. The only way to do that was have his attention. So you were done with awkwardness for now, and decided to try to chat.

"So, what brings you out on this fine night, Your Grace?".

"As you see, I spend most of my time in the Fortress. I don't socialize much, but I thought I needed a change of scenery.".

"That's good for the soul, I presume. How do you feel about the festivities?".

That grin was going to be the death of you, but better that than boredom. On one hand, you hoped you wouldn't be diagnosed with palpitations by the end of the night. On the other, you'd happily have a heart attack if it meant he smiled at you more.

"I should be asking you that. You're the star of this party, are you not? As soon as I walked in, all I heard was raving about the Balthazars' youngest daughter.".

"But there are many young, pretty girls walking around. Any of them could be the lady in question. How did you know it was me?".

"Accurate descriptions. I also heard the young Lady Balthazar is of the court's most empathetic. One sharing her favorite pastry sounds like that.".

You were having such a good time with him. You couldn't help laughing: "To be fair, I wouldn't want anyone to be deprived of chocolate when it's there.".

It was his turn to chuckle.

Please never stop laughing, or talking, or breathing. Please keep leaning my way. Please keep liking chocolate so we can share. Actually, stay with me for the rest of the night. Oh Focalors, please please please let him send Father a declaration of courting, and let him approve because I don't see a ring and I don't know why I like him so much-

As you carried on friendly conversation, something in you kept the train of thought going. You liked this man a lot... More than many other men you've met. More than any other man, maybe. He was funny, for one. He had no problem eliciting laughter from you. Like all the other nobles, he liked tea and music and engaged in politics. But he asked you lots of questions and heard you out. You even tried detecting a hint of surprise or disgust that you occasionally received, had you talked too much; None was found.

The real sealer was when he liked literature. But unlike the other nobles, he didn't just read the few titles that trended or made a name. He read, and so did you.

"This is the first time I've told someone I like lycanthrope literature and received a kind response.".

"And it's my first time seeing someone be appreciative of lycanthrope artistic culture, especially the books. Have you read Tale of a Toy-Making Werewolf? What did you think of the ending?".

He was amazing. He was awesome and charming and everything good. You were about to voice out your thoughts, until you heard murmurs behind you that maybe were meant to be heard.

"Not to be judgmental, but young Lady Balthazar has spent quite a bit of time with Lord Wriothesley...".

"Earlier she talked with many other fine gentlemen, like Duke Archandelle or Count Evermore... Why is she sticking onto him, of all people? I mean, he's a fine gentleman, but you know how it looks for a maiden...".

"Hehehe! I wonder what Baron Balthazar will think of this arrangement?".

His ears perked up at the gossip, and for the first time throughout your encounter, he scowled. He couldn't do so at them, lest your name gets dragged in worse mud. He liked you a lot, too much to make you get in trouble for him. But by the stars, how he wanted to. After years of stillness, he found someone who just... Understood him. Liked him off the bat, showed promise of the greater bond he's been looking for, for years. Then here comes those stupid 'good, high class girl' rules to halt your interaction.

Celestia, he looks terrifying and gorgeous.

"Listen, if you wish to take some distance, please don't feel ashamed about it. I understand how... Ruthless the rules for socializing are for a blossoming lady.".

"No.".

Your look towards the gossipers barely lasted a minute, as if they were barely worth your gaze. You looked back up at him: "I want to stay with you, but I'm not sure how. Oh. Wait...".

You took off to your mother's, and made it a point to say hi to Count Evermore again, just for good measure. A part of you couldn't believe you were doing this, screaming at you to abort the plan. You could get in trouble if you were found out, but hey, they wanted you to meet men and marry. You wanted to marry someone you loved. Maybe with time, you could find a middle ground, starting with this action.

"Mom, I talked to Count Evermore again.".

"Wonderful, wonderful, dear! Be sure to give some attention to Duke Arya, and-".

"I will, but I might faint from the stuffy air. I just need a minute in the powder room to fix myself up.

She didn't look too pleased, half expecting this: "But you were gone just now.".

"But I socialized, and I will continue once I'm back.".

"Well, alright then. I guess you should take a minute to look nice. Be back sooner than Duke Arya leaves.".

You took off, desperate to find Wriothesley again. You had to entertain a few nobles, but did so meagerly. You didn't want them. You wanted Duke Wriothesley, Lord of the Fortress of Meropide, Keeper of Justice and (not officially but kinda by existing) Advocate for Hybrid Rights.

Speak of the devil, he appeared in your vision again. He immediately lost interest in the art in front of him. You nodded towards the door and took off before anyone else could huddle you up.

Oh. Oh, he got it. You weaseled a way and some time for you. Truly, there's more to you than what meets the eye. He loved how such an angelic-looking, (supposedly) pure noble girl could lie as such to see him. The smirk at the thought did not leave his face.

"I know the roof is pretty private, Your Grace. Let's head there.".

"Actually, there's a stop I wanted to make first. Follow me.".

You both headed off to the kitchen. You were a little confused at the choice. It was still crowded, so you could get caught. He told you to wait outside for a bit.

"Wriothesley! We could get caught here!".

This was far too amusing. Far too much.

"First, you pay more attention to one man over everyone else in the ballroom, during your own coming of age party. Then, you lie to your parents to spend extra unchaperoned time with that man. After that, you call him by his first name in the same night. You haven't ceased to surprise me, little maiden.".

Your first instinct was to be ashamed. He had a point; Your behavior was not that of the pristine lady you had to be. But when you gathered your courage and looked up, he was smiling. Any other noble would either be fuming, ready to snitch on you, or blackmailing you through... Unsavory means. He smiled like troublemakers do when they carry something out successfully.

In retrospect, that's what you were doing right now.

"We will go to the roof, but just wait for me. For a few minutes. Since you got us out, I promise you won't get caught here. I'll be quick.".

He retreated into the kitchen. Your mind barely had the time to entertain scary thoughts of getting caught, because he came back just as quick, carrying a black package. You both took off for the roof.

As soon as you got there, you both sat down. Wriothesley undid the package in front of you. Right before the contents were revealed, he couldn't help his grinning, thinking of your reaction. Just when was the last night someone made him smile this much?

"What is it?".

"Your parents ought to look into better catering for their next party.".

In the box were cupcakes, truffles, cookies and many other chocolate desserts. Dark, white, mild, you name it.

You burst out into laughter, much to his initial confusion. You laughed so hard, you could barely speak, until you caught your breath: "This is the first time I hear of a prison lord stealing sweets!".

He realized the comic element and joined in on your laughter, unsure what surprised him more: The girl underneath the 'fancy' facade, or how much fun he was having. How he missed it. How he wanted to have it everyday. It was clearer and clearer; He could make that happen, if you were his. Once he courted you, (hopefully) got your father's approval and married you, you two could laugh and have chocolate and talk about whatever the hell you wanted everyday. Until you died. Forever.

After you calmed down, you ate and talked more about books. He offered to loan you some from his own library, and you might have just been book buddies. If it weren't for you remembering your mother's 'imposed' countdown, you would have forgotten the very concept of time. What did it matter when you finally felt your heroines' red cheeks, and excitement burgeoning deep within?

"Y/N...".

"Yes?".

Both of you laid down, even if it meant risking your looks. The tiredness that took over your bodies did not stop the bullet-fire chatting between you two. However, his sudden lower tone made you feel special. All through the night, he was your 'partner in crime', and you felt like he was going to let you in on a conspiratorial secret.

"Do you have a private mailbox? Can I have your code, and you can have mine?".

The question. His rough tone. His hair, swept over his face. Above all, the fact that he wanted to talk to you further.

Your little heart burst on the spot.

YES! YES! YES, HAVE IT ALL!

"Sure. But you know, our correspondence would have to be a bit... Er, hidden. Depending on what happens.".

"I'll be forward. I don't think I can carry on without the contact I had tonight. In this one night, I had so much fun, I found what I was looking for for years. I know you found me stealing sweets rather comical, but believe me, I have long renounced petty crime.".

"I noticed. Wouldn't it have been easier to just buy them? Or ask the chef? I mean, you're a Duke, I doubt they can refuse you.".

"Perhaps. Though I'll be honest, I partly did it because you looked so sad when they ran out of chocolate.".

Once again, you laughed. It was such a trivial matter, but it had you thinking; If he cares this much about it, what would he do for greater ones?

He stood up and held out his hand to help you. One more look at the stars prompted his thoughts.

"I'll be sending Baron Balthazar a declaration of courting. While I may be a little different from the other nobles he may be expecting, I am still a Duke, and an important component of Fontaine's justice. I'm sure that will help me. And then... We can meet more. That's a good start.".

"Wriothesley... Please, please do. Tonight was nothing short of magical. If we can make it happen, I'll be the happiest girl in all of Fontaine. And I promise I'll be a good wife, and-".

He chuckled: "Slipping back into your manners, I see."

Only when you made it back and went your separate ways, so as to not cause suspicion, did your heart fill up with your usual boredom and gloom. He was not by your side anymore. Soon enough, Duke Arya gave you his boring talk of how gorgeous you are and his accomplishments. Like all the other men, nothing like Wriothesley. You only saw him once more, where he barely paid attention to you.

If looks could kill, Duke Arya would have been mutilated on the floor. You thought you saw him angry at the gossipers, that was nothing. No, this was all the rage, all the offense that could only be expressed by something beyond human. His hands clenched until a loud 'CLANG!' could be heard across the roof. Wine, glass and a bit of blood fell onto the floor.

"Lord Wriothesley broke a glass!".

"Well, he's not entirely human, is he? I hear... His kind are prone to these things.".

That barely mattered to Duke Arya, and less him. He couldn't have cared less before he started talking to you. Now that he took your eyes, your words, all of you, he was only a bit worse than the criminals at the Fortress. Much later did he calm down and remind himself that one way or another, no man would be crassly taking you away from him.

#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fontaine x reader #yandere wriothesley #yandere reader

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foodsies4me · 4 months

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End of the Year Fic Recs!!!

thank you @echo-bleu for tagging me! <3

I adore this as a game because I love reccing fics (and really should do it more often because So. Much. Good.Fic). This is going to be all shadowhunters I'm afraid though because I am still very much in the shadowhunters brainrot stage and haven't read much of anything else. (Also, sorry to those I haven't left a comment for yet, I WILL, spoons have just been low this year...) Also, I'll try to keep it to one rec per author because there are so many wonderful authors, but definitely go check the other fics of these people (if you haven't already) they're all excellent.

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Running from the Night by @to-the-stars-writing. My forever fic spouse and the fic I reread themost this year goes to the fantastic, angsty Alec goes to live in a small village to get away from the Clave because the poor dude is traumatized fic from to-the-stars. This fic is my fics spouse (yes I got @to-the-stars-writing's permission to marry this fic) and I love, love, love it so much.

Flames to Embers by @notcrypticbutcoy: teenage!Alec is poofed into the timeline of his older self and it is lovely, sad, and heartwarming all at the same time. Also, teenage Alec is delightfully grumpy and Adult Alec is even more delightfully Done with teenage!Alec's grumpiness.

starshine and moonlight by she_who_reads (all_fandoms_reader) A three +1 fic where Alec isn't enough until he finally is. This fic is angsty and delves into Alec's (not all that great) self-worth issues and it hurts. Might or might not have cried reading it.

The Warlock's Cat by @dreaming-marchling. I hesitated a while which one I should pick from Marchling, but I ended up choosing this one (that said PLEASE go read Bleed for Me as well it is so goooood). The Warlock's Cat is a delightful "Alec gets turned into a cat and ends up in Magnus's care" fic. I adore it, and while it has its angsty or whumpy spots, it's mostly a nice, feel-good read.

Magnus Bane: Menace by AceOnIce To give some reprieve from all of the angst in this list, here is a fic of pure, unabashed fluff. Starring: Warlock Alec and Shadowhunter Magnus, the latter of which writes some truly ridiculous mission reports to HOTI Ragnor's grief.

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

The river cannot go back by @lawsofchaos1. Alec being Alec and completely in love with Magnus which leads to him committing treason like it's nothing. It is a short, brilliant fic that had me screeching like any @lawsofchaos1 fic does.

I'm finding it hard to breath by Honey_Hued_Hermes This one is pretty heave, but it does have a Hopeful Ending. Alec never promised he would tell Magnus if things ever got that bad...and sadly they do. Diving into Alec's Suicidal Thoughts and his Self-Harm tendencies.

A Most Fundamental Truth by autisticalec A missing scene from 2X10 when Alec tells Magnus that he's never been as terrified as when he feared Magnus had died from the Soul Sword. This one-shot dives into the "Alec was really very not okay emotionally" in this scene, so go read it!

The Difficult Task by @dani-dabbles: Another Alec is going through it emotionally fic (there are quite a lot of these on this list I just realized, oops). Thankfully, Magnus is there to offer support when Alec needs it because Magnus is still the best boyfriend. (also the repeated "not good enough"is evil and I am suing for emotion damages, please and thank you very much)

come to me (in the night hours) by @moonlight-breeze-44 Izzy is a supportive sister and is there emotionally for Alec right before his wedding to Lydia. This fic left me feeling all sad and weepy. This fic is technically part of a series, but as no other parts have been posted yet I am posting this in the one-shot part.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

I've Always Dreamed of Meeting Someone Like You by ColorfulWarlock A non-magical Alternate Universe this time around. Single-dad, fashion designer, and CEO Magnus needs someone to draw his designs for him after a hit-and-run leaves him unable to draw for himself. Insert Alec, the wonderful babysitter, and game designer who seems to understand what Magnus envisions and draw them into reality!

Angelus ex Machina by BlueA The series starts with the sudden disappearance of demon activity and the way that lack of activity impacts the local Shadow World. I love the way the parabatai bond is portrayed in this fic (especially in the third installment).

through the fire and pain by alxndrlightwoods is another parabatai-bond deep-dive that goes deep into how a parabatai bond can change shadowhunters. It also explains why, if parabatai are so powerful, there aren't that many of them. Love this fic!

i cannot touch because they are too near by @faejilly nobody manages to write poetry without writing poetry quite like @faejilly for me, seriously the words are always so beautiful I am in awe. This fic has to be my absolute favorite though because deep-dives into the parabatai bond are interesting to begin with but the way Jilly decides to do so in this fic makes it go from interesting to absolutely brilliant.

Greater Love Hath No Man by @lawsofchaos1 Okay, I lied, here is a second Laws fic, but considering this fic led to the demise of my laptop, I felt that it deserved to be on the list. (No, that wasn't a joke). Dad!Alec is forced to send baby!Max away to a warlock orphanage when his magic grows too strong for him and leaves him injured. The pain is real and it is excruciating, tissues are advised.

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

As much as I adore reccing fics, doing self-recs is awkward, so I'm going to keep this to one rec before I combust into flames.

All Was Golden (everyone has probably read that one already because it's my most-read fic which makes this slightly less awkward than reccing any other of my fics.) Anyway, soulmate AU with a kind of ugly meet that has some angst.

Tagging, without any kind of pressure, the authors I tagged in the rec-list (if they haven't participated already) as well as @miss-mouse.

#rec game #foodsies rambles #I love all of these fics so much #and there were so many more I wanted to include #maybe I should do rec lists more often #even if nobody reads them

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hbyrde36 · 10 months

Text

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

ao3 link

Chapter 1

*Eddie - 1986*

“That was amazing, Eddie!” Will exclaimed, with a wide smile.

They’d been playing for over 10 hours and Eddie was exhausted. He was only a few years older than the other boys, so he knew it was a poor excuse, but he was getting too old for these marathon sessions. Where he felt dead on his feet, the other boys looked like they could go for another 10 hours, no sweat.

It was well past curfew for the younger boys but since it was Saturday, and spring break, it hadn’t taken much convincing to get all the kids' parents to agree to the late session, as long as Eddie got them all home safe.

The small group said goodnight to Mike and Mrs. Wheeler before walking Lucas next door to his house. Then, Eddie, Dustin, and Will piled into the van. Technically Dustin’s house was closer but Eddie drove Will home first. He liked to drop his cousin off last, so he could stop in and say hello to his aunt if she was home.

Eddie was a little distracted during the drive. He’d been trying to keep busy for the last few days, anything to help him forget about the fact that it’s the anniversary of Steve Harrington’s disappearance, but today that had been impossible. How could he not think about the guy who inspired one of the main characters in a game they had just spent all day playing?

When it's finally just him and Dustin in the car, he allows some of his thoughts to spill over.

“It’s one thing that we use ourselves in this crazy story but do you ever think it’s fucked up that we kept Steve as an NPC after his disappearance?”

Dustin shrugged. “I don’t know, I mean, I didn’t know the guy. Mike always said he was an asshole, so, who cares?”

Eddie almost slammed on the breaks, it’s only for the sake of his beloved van that he didn’t. He can’t believe the kid would say something so insensitive.

“Dude he’s like your best friend, how can you say that!?”

“In the game, Eddie. He’s my character’s best friend, in the game . You always take it too seriously.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them when Eddie didn’t respond, too upset and lost in his thoughts to make conversation. He pulled his van into the driveway behind his Aunt Claudia’s car and shut the ignition off.

“Mike was wrong, y’know. Steve wasn’t an asshole, not really.” Eddie said, as he followed his cousin up the path to the front porch.

Dustin stopped abruptly, turning on his heel to look at Eddie. “Wait. Did you know him? Were you friends?”

Eddie sighed. His feelings about Steve Harrington had always been…complicated.

“I knew him my whole life. We were in the same grade till I got held back, and it’s a small town. We were never friends, exactly, but I saw him almost every day in school. We talked sometimes in the halls, on the bus. Maybe he was a bit of a dick to people occasionally, but who isn’t? That’s what kids do. He was always nice to me.”

Dustin stared at Eddie like he’d never seen him before.

“I'm sorry, man.” He stuttered. “I didn't know. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

It was Eddie’s turn to shrug. “I don’t really know. I guess I was trying to keep the real Steve and the game Steve separate in my head. I always thought he’d turn back up eventually. That maybe he’d just run away from home, and someday he would come back when he ran out of money or something.

“It could still be that. It's not like they ever found a body.” Dustin offered, not really sounding like he believed it, but wanting to be supportive.

“It’s been 2 years, almost to the day. The Harrington’s have more than enough money to hire fancy private detectives and shit. If he was alive, they’d have found him by now.”

*Steve - 1983*

Steve Harrington had just started dating Nancy Wheeler when Will Byers went missing. Later, he would be embarrassed to admit it, but at the time he was a little pissed off that she wanted to ditch their date to join in the search for the boy. The kid was probably just out playing and lost track of time or something. Everyone knew Joyce wasn’t exactly the most stable person in the world. He knew Hopper only humored her with this search to get her off his back.

When he told Nancy as much, she called him an asshole and stormed out. After sulking about it for an hour after she left, he realized she was right. He didn’t want to be that guy. He didn’t want to turn out like his dad. So, he threw some sneakers on and set out to join the search party.

He walked through the woods looking for Hopper, or anyone else who could assign him an area to search. It started raining before he could find anyone, and he was just getting ready to head back to his car, when he heard rustling in the bushes off to his left. He turned in the direction of the sound, squinting in the dark to try and see if someone was there. He thought he saw movement and then a twig snapped. It sounded loud in the quiet of the trees.

It was so dark out here, he wished he had a flashlight or something.

“Will?” Steve asked, taking a tentative step forward.

The only response was a quiet gasp from the dark. There was definitely someone there.

In a stroke of pure luck, the moon chose that moment to come out from behind the clouds. Her soft light illuminated things just enough for Steve to make out the shape of a small child with a shaved head, wearing a gigantic yellow t-shirt. This was definitely not Will Byers, but the kid sure did look like she was in trouble.

“Hey there, I'm Steve. Do you need some help?”

The girl stared up at him with wide eyes. She didn’t answer, but she hadn’t run away from him yet either.

He tried again.

“Do you want to get out of the rain? My car isn’t far from here.” He didn’t step any closer but held his hand out to her to take, or not, whatever she chose.

The girl studied him for a long time. She looked into his eyes like she was trying to read his soul. He didn’t know what she saw there, but it must have been enough to convince her that he was safe. She nodded, pushing her tiny hand into his, and the two of them walked together back to the warmth and safety of Steve’s car.

It wasn’t ideal, bringing the girl back to his house, but at least his parents were out of town. Once he’d gotten her into the car he had tried to take her to the hospital, or at least the police station. She’d shaken her head slowly, ominously, and uttered the first words he’d heard her speak.

“Bad men.”

Steve didn’t know what to do, he was in way over his head. He needed help. He needed people much smarter than him to tell him what to do. The idea occurred to him to take her to Nancy’s. She was smart, and a girl. Surely she'd be better suited for this, she’d know the best course of action to take. But, the girl refused that too. She seemed to only trust Steve.

Tired, and out of options, he went home.

He gathered some dry clothes for her, old sweatpants and a Hawkins High swim team t-shirt from his freshman year, and sent her into one of the guestrooms to change. The clothes would be huge on her but it’s the best he could do for now.

It was late and he kind of expected her to just go to bed once she changed. They could always figure things out in the morning. But, a few minutes later, there she was, standing in his doorway, looking around the room curiously.

“It’s okay, you can come in.” He said, as he shut the closet door. “In fact, why don’t you come sit down. I think we should talk about some things.”

She looked hesitant, but joined him, cross-legged on the floor. She still hadn’t said more than those two words to him but clearly she could speak, and she understood him fine, so he had to try. They’d start small.

“What’s your name?” He asked, voice gentle as he could make it.

She shook her head.

Somehow he knew it wasn’t a refusal, but more like a confusion on her part.

He pointed to himself. “Steve. People call me Steve. What do people call you?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and held her shaking wrist out to him.

He was confused at first, until he noticed the small writing there.

011

“Eleven?” He asked.

She nodded vigorously, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

That was, well, it was so not good. Shaved head and a number tattooed on her arm. Steve wasn’t a genius but even he knew that something was seriously messed up here. Who would do this to a little girl? Where were her parents?

“Is that what your parents call you?”

“Parents?” She sounded the word out slowly like she was saying it for the first time.

“Yea, like your mom or dad? Mama or Papa?”

“Papa" She agreed, nodding. "Bad man.”

O..k. Well that certainly answered some things.

“Is that why you were in the woods tonight? Were you running from Papa and the bad men?”

She nodded.

That was enough for tonight, he decided. They were both tired and he really needed some time to think, to make a plan.

“I think we should get some sleep. We can talk some more in the morning. Okay?”

She blinked at him and nodded again. She definitely preferred non-verbal communication. It didn’t bother Steve, he could roll with it.

“You can sleep in that other room, the bed in there is really comfy.” He said, rising up off the floor as she did the same.

“Where do you sleep?” She asked.

It was a little jarring, hearing her string together a full sentence like that. It was stilted, the way she spoke. Obviously talking wasn’t something she did very much.

“Here.” He answered, motioning to his bed. “This is my room. So i’ll be right across the hall if you need anything.”

She looked over her shoulder at the doorway and then back at Steve. She made no motion to leave.

“Would you rather stay here?” He guessed and there was that little smile again.

“Safer in here, with you.”

Steve’s heart broke. He kind of hadn’t thought about it until that moment, the night had been so full of weird things and it had all happened so fast, he hadn’t realized how utterly terrified Eleven was. He wanted to fold her up into his arms and squeeze her tight. Promise her that he’d keep her safe from the bad men of the world.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't promise anything when he had no idea what was going on. He wasn’t sure if she would welcome his embrace either, so he held himself back. Instead he got into bed, scooching all the way over to the wall, and then patted the big space he’d left for her.

She crawled onto the bed and almost immediately curled into a ball. He watched her as she settled on the pillow. She looked so small. He vowed to himself that he would do whatever he could to protect her. He’d hide her in this house forever if that’s what it took. He didn’t yet know what she’d been through, but he knew it was bad, and something no little kid should have to go through.

The rain had turned into a storm while they talked, and it raged now on the other side of his window. A loud crack of thunder startled them both. Eleven was shaking again. Steve laid his hand out, palm up, on the bed between them. An offering of comfort he thought she might accept, since she had taken his hand in the woods.

She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand on top of his.

Chapter 2

#steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ao3 #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #fanfic #ao3 link #life is a game #Canon is just a crazy game of D&D #Eddie Munson and Dustin Henderson are cousins #Steve Harrington is missing #This idea has been simmering in my brain for months

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