Hay Días En Los Que No Me Reconozco. Veo Mi Cara En El Espejo Y No Es La Misma Que Ayer, Veo Mis Fotos

KING OF MY HEART, BODY AND SOUL | LYNEY

notes 2k words, does contain arlecchino quest spoilers but it’s nothing too big, mom and dad are fighting (i could be talking about any of them)

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Rosalie eyes the flower warily. “What am I supposed to do with that? My hands are—” The terrifying stranger pitches the flower to her lap, a clear rebuttal, “—tied… Okay.”

She wishes she could kick it off, yet her legs were also tied. Defeated, she accepts the offering but doesn’t say a word about it. Gratitude is far from what Rosalie is feeling at the moment. Ingratitude, fear, confusion. Those describe it better.

For better or for worse, Rosalie scrambles to take hold of the conversation, if only to show these people that she wouldn’t show her ingratitude, fear, and confusion. The flower jostles with her rough movements. “You’re—Fatui, aren’t you? I believe all of you owe me more than just a talk. What do you want with my child?” 

“Hey, lady,” the woman with the purple hood once again growls, “don’t talk to The Knave like that!”

The Knave. That sounds so familiar. Rosalie thinks deeply, wondering where she had heard it from in passing.

“It’s alright. She’s distressed,” The Knave addresses her subordinates, but she’s looking right at Rosalie. “You may refer to me as The Knave. Arlecchino, fourth of the eleven Fatui Harbingers.”

Harbingers. Out of the eleven, she managed to rope herself into the fourth one. Rosalie turns just a little bit pale. A Harbinger had been inside her shop without her knowing. If you had come home earlier, what would The Knave have done? Rosalie doesn’t know if this situation is any better, either.

“And, just so you know, before she was yours, she was my child first,” The Knave muses.

Oh. Right. Previous Fatuus and The Knave is a Harbinger—that makes sense.

“But—she’s not even involved with any of you anymore, right?” Rosalie asks weakly, her stomach taut with apprehension. “Why are you doing this? Where is she right now?”

The Knave appraises Rosalie for a good minute, as if her sorry state would make the choice for her. “I gave Y/N plenty of freedom. If I didn’t, you never would’ve even met her.”

Rosalie bristles. “What, I have to be grateful?”

The Knave huffs out a small laugh. “That would be narcissistic of me. Of course not. But you shouldn’t be hostile. If I meant to harm Y/N, I would’ve done so already.”

“Did you let her go on purpose?” Rosalie asks. She’s getting agitated by the power this woman is clearly showing off.

“I suppose you could say that,” The Knave wonders. “But I just had no worries. I’m more familiar with her than you think. I knew that she wouldn’t have gone too far. I knew this would happen eventually.”

Rosalie is confused. What is this? Was this one of those monologues that the bad guys jump into to reveal their master plan—like, in the musical plays?

“Of course, no one could have foreseen the Traveler's appearance.” The Knave taps a clawed finger on her chin thoughtfully. “That also made it much more complicated than it was supposed to be.”

Traveler. Where has Rosalie heard that before? “The Traveler… The Outlander? Aether?”

“Correct. Aether, as some of you prefer to address him. Had it not been for his interference, perhaps this wouldn't have turned out differently—he is an unexpected factor. Though, you, Miss Rosalie, you’re also one.”

Rosalie is still very much confused. But she sits still, obedient, wondering where this might go. The villains would reveal some flaw in their master plan somewhere.

“Or perhaps I would’ve left all of you alone had it not been for Lyney’s disobedience.” Wait, Lyney? “I will not have any distractions to the children occupied with their missions. He has already failed.”

“Y/N has been by my side almost every day. How would she have managed to sabotage a Fatui operation?” Rosalie asks.

“Showing up to Lyney’s show was enough of a distraction. I must admit, even I didn’t expect her to appear that soon. It must be The Traveler.”

“Wait, it was truly Mr. Lyney?!” Rosalie wasn’t even aware that Aether had been more than he let on, much less Mr. Lyney being Fatui.

Oh. Oh! Rosalie remembers now. The day she first saw Aether and Paimon was the day they went to watch Mr. Lyney’s magic show. Since then, you have begun acting strange, and Aether started to linger more often, but Rosalie hasn’t given it much thought. She simply chalked it up to you making friends—definitely not messing up a Fatui operation.

“Are you following, Miss Rosalie? Lyney has failed, and Y/N has disrupted our mission. You see, children in the House who go against our rules receive punishment.”

Rosalie doesn’t like where this is going. She knows the answer already: “What is the punishment?”

“Their lives.”

Rosalie winces. Fatui don’t play around.

“But Y/N isn’t part of the House anymore…?”

“Her memories are no different than one of a child currently in the House.”

At her stunned silence, The Knave seems to take pity. “I have a child that’s concocted a potion to make them kill a part of themselves that was involved with the Fatui.”

Kill a part of themselves?

Rosalie’s brain lags for a second. “Are—are you saying no one’s dyi—”

“If Y/N has no secrets to spill, then there is no reason to punish her. She can enjoy a life that never involves the Fatui in the first place. However, you became a factor. It would’ve been difficult for me to make her forget everything when you were there. If I make her forget her life in the House, she will forget you too, as everything that led up to meeting you involved the House. And that would make things a lot more complicated than necessary on your part.”

Is… she saying that she considered Rosalie’s feelings?

“Now, I am here to allow you to decide. You could also choose to forget her.” The Knave perches a hand on her hip. “You’re her mother now, are you not?”

“Why didn’t you ask Y/N first?”

“Would her answer dictate your decision?”

“Of course.”

“Even if she chose to forget you?”

Rosalie’s mouth parts for an answer. She wishes it was quicker than The Knave’s question that Rosalie feared more than anything, but instead, she finds herself uncertain. “…If that’s what she desires. I have no right to tie her by my side.”

“Hm. Quite an answer.” The Knave looks at Rosalie with what feels like a smile. It certainly doesn’t appear as one—neither side of her lips quirked, but her eyes felt lighter. “But do not worry. It’s why you’re here. Y/N would be asked, eventually.”

Ah. So Rosalie is just bait.

She wants to feel angry at the woman in front of her, but to her horror, she is instead understanding her. Like she could read what The Knave has been concealing behind each word—what the diplomat truly wants to say.

Rosalie hesitates, looking up at The Knave through her lashes. Her crimson eyes are terrifying, and having been tied up to a chair while the fourth of the Fatui Harbingers is standing is just as unsettling—Rosalie hasn’t relaxed an inch throughout the entire conversation.

“You still think of her as your child, don’t you?” Rosalie asks Arlecchino.

Arlecchino, fourth of the Harbingers, director and ‘Father’ of the House, turns away. “Attachments to traitors are only a hindrance in the House.”

It is not a clear answer, but doesn’t that make it clearer?

Rosalie takes a deep breath. She takes one long look at the flower on her lap, thinking back to when you first held one from her shop, froze it, looked at her with the roundest, fearful eyes, and knew that her answer was clear, too.

Thunder roared as the sun dipped behind the rolling hills of Fontaine. It struck badly and poured even worse. Each second passing without Rosalie in your sight, without knowing what could’ve happened to her, itched your rage and despair more and more. The more you worry, the more your temper rises.

You were arguing with Aether as to whether or not you should get the freaking Iudex involved—you vehemently refused, while Aether asserted that it was for Rosalie’s safety as well—when you spotted two familiar figures from afar.

Lynette is leading Lyney inside the shop, side by side. Your ire grows exponentially at the sight of them, hackles rising in a snap. How dare they. How dare they have the nerve to even think about showing their faces to you? How dare Lyney march back into your second life like he didn’t just ruin your first one, but now this, too.

Lyney’s eyes are wide with worry as they reach the door. “Y/N, what happened—”

“Of course you knew where I live,” you say, brimming with contempt. “Did you tell that to your ‘Father’, too? Or was she the one who told you?”

“I was the one who knew, Y/N,” Lynette admits, her voice infuriatingly calm. “Lyney knew you wouldn’t want him knowing where you lived, so I volunteered to get intel and give you his gift. We came here because we thought ‘Father’ did something, and, well…”

The atmosphere drops. Everyone feels it—everyone but you, the catalyst. They flinch at the assault of the biting chill, of your fury in the form of a glacier.

“What… happened?” Lynette asks cautiously, quietly. You’ve never seen her terrified of you; it’s so wrong, but what they’re doing to you isn’t right either. So, really, who’s the bad guy here?

“Rosalie’s been kidnapped,” you say, clipped.

“Your guardian,” Lynette says, surprised. “The woman who runs the shop, right?”

“My mother. Don’t act like you didn’t expect this to happen.”

“We’re pawns in this, too,” Lyney says, finally finding his voice, it seems. “Please, I know it doesn’t seem that way right now. Let us prove it to you if you let us help—”

You scoffed, bitter and cold. You bit back the bite of ice and wondered how ironic it was that every time your Vision acted out, it was, more often than not, tied to Lyney.

“What, so you expect me to believe you’d just go against your ‘Father’ like that?”

“I would,” Lyney says without missing a beat.

How maddening. Aether, Lynette, and Paimon were shivering, wide-eyed and unsure, yet Lyney stood unfazed. No, he burns. His eyes, his gaze, they smolder your bleak anger. But that only serves to irritate you even more.

“Lyney,” you warn.

“I would, Y/N,” Lyney cuts, eyes narrowed fiercely. “I would for you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lyney.”

“I do. And you know I do!”

“Give me a good reason to believe that.”

“Because I lo—” Lyney grits his teeth, and finally, some real emotion—no more tricks, no more lies; his frustration satisfies you—at least until he says, “I like you, okay? You know this.”

Maybe deep down, you really did know. You felt it. Maybe you even feel the same. But your brain’s fogged over, and all you can think about is how Lyney keeps taking everything from you—‘Father’, your pride, your spotlight, and now Rosalie.

Aether reaches out. “Y/N—”

“Shut up. None of this would’ve happened if I never met you,” you snap, turning away at the sight of his eyes flashing with hurt.

You turn and stomp off, refusing to acknowledge their protests and Lyney’s weak pleading. The door slams shut and rattles, with ice spreading from where you’ve touched it. “Find your sister yourself. Stupid brothers, getting me involved… This is why I’m an only child…”

And so you’re back to square one. Alone. So be it. Maybe this is truly where you belong, anyway. You don’t need them, and you definitely don’t need Lyney and his blind love.

This is how it would come to be, eventually. You, leaving; or them, leaving you. You long expected it. Or maybe it is because you forced it—you wanted it like you’d feel in control if things went exactly as you expected.

So why does leaving them feel nothing like control?

notes i know i kept saying i was excited to post this chapter, but now that im actually posting it i got nervous LMFAOO its been a month since the last update. i dont know how i did tbh!!! but either way, tysm for reading and i hope u can stay with me for four more chapters <3

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaa @rionah @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng @fiannee @ask-kurayami-akura @sc4rlett-letter @xxxion @wangshuu @deathkat657 @powchakko @beasalmeh @h-8chi @lovelypadisarah @unstablemiss @huanator @ceneid

an imperial command a knight!choso fic

pairing ⸺ knight/warrior!choso x princess!reader

summary ⸺ you, the princess of the nation, and choso, the son of your father's most trusted general, have been inseperable since birth. but after many deem it inappropriate for him to be so close to you, the distance between you and him only deepens after he leaves for war. when he comes back older and a more handsome, bigger version of the choso of your childhood, you both grapple with love, duty, and test the bounds of propierty.

warnings ⸺ smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, reader has a vagina, classism? not really, reader may seem pushy at times, not edited, very sweet love confession, happy ending, fingering, breast worship, virgin reader, mutual loss of virginity, mentions of sexism and archaic beliefs about virginity, pathetic choso, soft dom choso, p i v sex, gentle choso :(, me being really horny about his HAPPY TRAIL

a/n it's something about a hot decorated warrior that crumbles at the thought of you...

general masterlist

You and Choso had been inseparable since birth.

As the princess of the realm and the son of the general—your father’s most trusted advisor and sworn brother—it seemed ordained by fate itself that you should become steadfast companions. And companions you were; as babes, you darted through the royal gardens, frolicked in the halls of the palace, and devised schemes to escape the ever-watchful eyes of your tutors. Only the constraints of your education would separate you. You were confined to lessons in the classical tongues, the harp, and courtly diplomacy, while Choso immersed himself in the arts of the sword, the strategies of war, and the unyielding discipline of a soldier.

“Choso!” you squealed, your laughter ringing through the royal gardens as you fled from an imagined dragon. You ran toward him, your skirts billowing behind you, and found him poised and ready. His knees were bent, his gaze unwavering, and his small wooden sword clutched tightly in his hands. He glared past you at the phantom threat with the solemnity of a true knight.

“I will save you, Your Highness!” he roared and lunged, hacking away at the demon passionately. You cheered him on, giggling at his act.

“You’ve done it!” you cheered, clapping your hands in delight. But then your eyes widened in feigned terror. “Look, another one approaches!”

Choso spun around at your warning, his attention diverted just as you had planned. Seizing the moment, you imagined the dreadful beast closing in on his unguarded back.

“Watch out!” you exclaimed, grabbing a fallen branch to defend him. With a bold leap, you placed yourself between Choso and the imagined peril, brandishing your twig as though it were a knight’s blade.

“I’ve got you!” you declared, laughing as you swung your newfound weapon, the pair of you lost in the unrestrained joy of childhood.

Of course, while the king, your father, appreciated you so closely acquainted with his general’s son, your mother did not seem to think it wise that you become estranged from the daughters of nobles; after all, you would need to forge relationships early on to strengthen your future court. This led to many a playdates being interrupted.

“You didn’t need to save me!” Choso whined, pouting while crossing his arms. 

However, you held out a pudgy hand, patting his hair as if to soothe him. “It’s okay, Choso. If you ever need saving, I’ll always be there—” “YOUR HIGHNESS!” You heard footsteps running towards where the both of you were sitting idly. When parrying the imaginary monster’s attacks, you had tumbled on top of Choso, your dress and limbs entangled with his and both of your hair unruly. Hearing your governess’ voice led you to pout, for you were sure to earn a scolding for fooling around with Choso rather than practicing the violin for the nth time. Alas, you couldn’t escape her—as well as Choso’s nannies, who had appeared—and you both looked sheepishly at their horrified faces.  

Frowning, Choso’s nanny stomped towards the both of you, untangling you both impatiently and, once you were both standing, giving Choso a light smack on his head while bowing towards you. “Your Highness, I apologize, but the both of you mustn’t do such things anymore. You both are far past the age that this is appropriate.”

“What?” You pouted, disappointed in having to back to your room, confined to practice your violin with those dreadful, boring tunes. “What isn’t appropriate about this? We’re just playing—”

“Your Highness,” your governess began, her strained smile barely masking her displeasure. “It is not fitting for a princess to engage in such… undignified behavior. You must remember your station. A young lady of your rank is expected to conduct herself with grace and decorum at all times.”

Choso’s nanny, now tidying his tousled hair with brisk, efficient motions, added in a sharper tone, “And you, young master, should remember your place. You are not her equal but her servant’s son. Such familiarity is unbecoming.”

At her words, Choso’s face turned pale, his gaze dropping to the ground. His hands clenched into small fists at his sides, but he said nothing, his lips pressed tightly together. You could see the effort it took him to remain still, his shoulders stiff with tension.

“Choso?” you called softly, tilting your head to catch his eye. 

However, he did not look up, though his voice came, quiet and steady. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I… I won’t do it again.”

Your brows furrowed, your chest tightening at the sight of his downcast expression. “What are you apologizing for?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. “You’ve done nothing wrong! We were only playing.”

“Your Highness!” your governess interjected, her tone scandalized. “Such defiance is unbecoming. You must understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” you snapped, cutting her off. “I understand that I don’t care for these rules. Choso is my friend, and I decide what is and isn’t proper!”

Choso’s nanny inhaled sharply, but he quickly stepped forward, shaking his head fervently. “Please, Your Highness,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “Don’t… don’t say such things for me. I’ll… I’ll do as I’m told. I promise.”

“Choso!” you exclaim, betrayed as the sting of his words settling in your chest. His gaze still refused to meet yours, fixed instead on the ground between you.

Your governess, sensing her victory, straightened. “Your Highness, you must return to your chambers immediately. Your music tutor is waiting. And as for you, Master Choso, your training will resume at once. I trust there will be no further disruptions.”

Neither of you spoke as the governess and the nanny ushered you away in opposite directions, their sharp voices ringing in your ears. Yet, as you glanced over your shoulder, you caught one last fleeting glimpse of Choso, his hesitant gaze finally meeting yours for the briefest of moments. It held a quiet resolve that only deepened your frustration.

“Wait and see,” you muttered under your breath as you were dragged back toward your chambers. “I’ll change this someday.”

That was the last time he ever spoke your name aloud; now, you were only Your Highness and The Royal Princess. It irritated you to no end; you were his friend, not his superior. But he insisted, falling deeper and deeper into the depths of social proprietary and hierarchy his nannies and parents were no doubt pressuring him into. You could only take what you had; if he was refusing your affection, he would at least not refuse royal commands of rendezvous.

Years had gracefully unfolded since that day, and now, as teenagers, your clandestine meetings in the royal gardens had blossomed into cherished rituals beneath the cloak of night. The gardens, adorned with that glowed under the moon's gentle gaze, became the sanctuary where you and Choso could momentarily escape the rigid expectations of courtly life.

As you approached the secluded alcove near the ancient marble fountain, your heart fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement. 

And there he was.

Choso waited beneath the willow tree, his dark eyes darting between the swaying branches and the dimly lit path beyond. The shadows stretched long in the garden, and the faint sound of patrolling guards put a furrow in his brow. He shifted on his feet, arms crossed tightly as though bracing himself for some reprimand.

When you finally appeared, dressed in your lighter night robes, he let out a small breath of relief. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t—”

“Can you stop that?” You whine, brushing him off and making a move to sit in the swing right by the tree. You lightly swing your feet, establishing a gentle rhythm while you grin mischievously at him, meeting your lighthearted eyes with his furrowed, slightly worried ones. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Choso. No one’s going to catch us.”

He can only shake his head, for after years of friendship had led him to know one universal truth: if there was one thing, it was that your mind, once resolute, could not be changed. “I don’t know how you keep wanting to risk them discovering this.” Then, he sighs, lamenting weakly, “and why I have to dragged into this.”

You flash him an innocent smile, about to give a cocky response about how you’re the princess and it’s not like Choso doesn’t want this…right? but both of you pause, deadly still, when you hear the undeniable clinks of armor.

Patrolling guards.

Choso’s head snapped toward the sound, his body going rigid. It kind of dazes you, in a way, how his curriculum as a warrior leads him to be so alert. It’s also this moment that you realize how grown you both are becoming; it feels as if you’re stuck as a dainty princess, while he’s steadily growing taller and bigger, a smaller picture of his formidable father.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

You froze, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with him before instinctively ducking behind the grand marble fountain. The cold stone pressed against your back as the guards’ footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the bobbing light of their lanterns.

“Who’s there?” one of them called out, his voice sharp and commanding.

Choso shifted beside you, his breath quick and shallow. Your hand brushed against his arm in reassurance, but it did little to ease the tension radiating off him. The guards’ lanterns swept methodically across the gardens, their shadows flickering on the trees.

“Stay still,” Choso mouthed, his dark eyes fixed on the approaching light.

The guards drew closer, their boots crunching against the gravel path. You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, each second dragging on unbearably.

Then, a faint rustle to your left—a squirrel darting across the underbrush. The guards turned toward the noise, their lanterns swinging wide.

“Must’ve been an animal,” one muttered, though he sounded unconvinced.

“Keep looking,” the other replied gruffly. “The king’s orders were clear—no one’s to linger in the gardens after dark.”

The pair continued past, their voices fading as they moved toward the far side of the grounds.

You let out a shaky breath, but before you could fully relax, Choso grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. “We need to go deeper,” he said urgently, his voice low.

Without waiting for your agreement, he led you away from the fountain, weaving through the hedges and into the denser parts of the forest. The shadows thickened as the soft glow of the garden lanterns disappeared behind you. Branches brushed against your arms, and the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves filled the air as you ran.

“Choso!” you whispered breathlessly, struggling to keep up with his longer strides. “They’re gone!”

“Not far enough,” he replied, glancing back at you. “We can’t risk them doubling back.”

The forest grew darker the deeper you went, the canopy above blocking out most of the moonlight. Finally, when the sound of your own breathing seemed louder than anything else, Choso slowed to a halt beneath a towering oak.

“We should be safe here,” he murmured, releasing your hand.

You both sank to the ground, the soft carpet of moss cushioning your fall. For a moment, neither of you spoke, too winded to do anything but sit there, catching your breath. Then, a stifled giggle bubbled out of you, unable to contain the absurdity of the chase.

Choso shot you a warning look, but his resolve cracked when you pressed your hands over your mouth, failing to muffle your laughter. A small laugh escaped him in turn, and soon you were both doubled over, trying in vain to quiet yourselves.

“Shhh!” Choso whispered, though he was grinning. “You’ll get us caught.”

“You’re the loud one,” you whispered back, nudging him playfully.

Soon, the laughter slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of rustling leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Choso leaned back against the tree, his expression softening as he glanced up at the canopy. His eyes caught on something above, and he pointed. “Look—fruit.”

Following his gaze, you spotted the cluster of small, round pomengrenates hanging from a low branch. Choso stood, brushing dirt from his trousers, and reached up to pluck one. He examined it briefly before biting into it, his movements unhurried and deliberate.

“Are you just going to eat that without offering me one?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He smirked, holding another pomengrenate aloft. “You want it?”

“Obviously.”

But instead of handing it over, Choso lifted it above his head, his smirk widening. “Come and get it.” You stood up, moving closer to him to make a motion to grab the fruit. Alas, the effort was not fruitful. 

“Choso!” you hissed, glaring at him as he kept the fruit just out of reach. You try many things: you grab his shoulder, tickle him on his stomach, and arms. However, it all is in vain.

“You’re the one who wants it,” he said, his head peering down at you in amusement.

You stood, determination written all over your face. “Fine. If you think I can’t—”

You leapt, swatting at his hand, but he easily moved the fruit higher, his height giving him the upper hand.

“You’re insufferable!” you said, laughing despite yourself as you tried again, this time jumping with more force. Still, you missed.

“Perhaps you should’ve been born taller,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Or perhaps you should stop being such a—” Before you could finish, he lowered the fruit suddenly, pressing it into your hand.

“There,” he said, smirking. “Satisfied?”

You took a triumphant bite, your glare softening into a grin. “For now.”

Settling back down, you both shared the fruit in companionable silence, the earlier tension of the night dissipating in the quiet forest. Yet, as you sat side by side, something about the way his gaze lingered on you—or perhaps the warmth blooming in your chest—made you wonder if these late-night meetings were becoming something more.

And then, years later, he left for war. Choso left for the battlefield, summoned to serve alongside his father as the general’s son. 

The morning he departed was etched into your memory with painful clarity. The air was crisp, the kind that stung your lungs when you breathed too deeply, and the courtyard was alive with the sounds of preparation. Soldiers moved with purpose, their boots striking against the cobblestones in rhythmic determination. Horses snorted and pawed at the ground, their breaths rising like smoke in the cold air.

You stood at the edge of it all, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, trying to keep your expression composed. This was no place for a princess to display her feelings, no matter how tightly they knotted in her chest. Your father was nearby, speaking with the general in low, serious tones, his gaze sweeping over the troops with pride. Your mother was absent, as always, too preoccupied with courtly matters to concern herself with the departure of soldiers—even one who had once been your constant companion.

When Choso emerged from the crowd, his figure clad in the red, utilitarian uniform of a soldier, it was as though the rest of the scene blurred. The boy who had once darted through the gardens with you, his hair wild and his hands dirtied by mischief, now looked every inch the man his father had raised him to be. His hair was tied back, his face set in an unreadable mask of calm, and he carried himself with a solemnity that felt foreign.

He always did make you feel like a child. While you were still delaying acceptance of your fate as the princes—future queen—-he had grown into a man, fated to be a war general. 

He approached slowly, each step deliberate. When he stopped before you, he did not smile. Instead, he bowed low, his dark eyes briefly meeting yours. “Your Highness—”

But you had enough of that godforsaken title. “Why must you leave?” You cried, your voice breaking as Choso stood before you in the courtyard.

The image of the steeled soldier crumbled as his eyes softened in fondness and melancholy. “You know I must.”

You shook your head fervently, as if to vehemently deny what was undeniably the truth. “You know that’s not true.” And it wasn’t, for it would only take an imperial command of yours to bar him from ever entering the battlefield.

But it was his dream; you saw the way he looked at his father. To deny Choso the sword and the glory he was destined for was to chain him down, and you knew that. So instead, you shook off the idea, then blurted, “You’ll write to me, won’t you?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with expectation. He hesitated, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before it smoothed back into neutrality. “If time allows.”

That was all he offered. No promises. No reassurances. Just a vague, distant answer that left your heart sinking.

Outraged, and a bit petulant, you exclaimed. “What do you mean if time allows? Will you be so busy that you won’t have time? Are you not at least going to grant me some peace of mi—what is that?”

In the corner of your eye, you see something in his hand catch the sunlight, and glimmer. He hesitates, his hand clenching before inevitably opening his palm. A timid, “For you, Your Highness.”

An instinctual don’t call me that dies out in your throat as he shows you what he was hiding. In it he uncovers a small, delicate object—a pin shaped like a blooming flower, its petals carved with meticulous detail and painted in hues of white and gold.

You stared at it, your hands trembling as you took it from him. “What is this for?”

“It’s a symbol,” he explained, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Of where I’ll always be, even if I’m not here. Keep it with you, and you’ll know that... that I’ll do everything I can to return.”

“Oh, Choso.” Your bottom lip trembled as tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your fingers closed around the pin, the intricate craftsmanship biting into your palm. Somehow, the weight of it felt heavier than it should’ve been. “I don’t want a pin, Choso,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I want you to stay.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might reach out to you. But then he stilled, the rigidity in his posture a clear reminder of the boundaries he refused to cross.

Even so, you didn’t want to seem ungrateful. The gift, despite your pain, was beautiful, and its meaning wasn’t lost on you. You sniffled, brushing a tear from your cheek with a trembling hand. “But it is beautiful, regardless,” you murmured, holding it up to the light. The golden edges of the petals gleamed softly, like sunlight captured in metal. “Put it in my hair?”

Choso blinked, caught off guard by the request. His gaze flickered between you and the pin, uncertainty etched into his features. “Your Highness, I—”

“Please,” you interrupted gently, tilting your head slightly toward him. “Just this once.”

He hesitated for a long moment, his fingers flexing at his sides as though he were battling some internal conflict. Finally, with a barely audible sigh, he reached out and took the pin from your hand.

You held your breath as he stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. His hand brushed against your hair and your neck as he carefully gathered a small section, his touch warm and deliberate. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips, earned from countless hours of swordsmanship, yet his movements were painstakingly gentle.

“There,” he said softly, stepping back to examine his work. His gaze lingered on you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his formal mask cracked ever so slightly. There was something in his eyes—something raw and unspoken—that made your chest tighten.

You reached up instinctively, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the pin now nestled securely in your hair. “How does it look?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the lump in your throat made it difficult.

Choso’s lips parted, but no words came. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away as if he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer. “It’s beautiful,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The horn sounded again, louder this time, breaking the fragile moment between you. Choso stepped back, the walls of propriety rising between you once more.

“Thank you,” you managed, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

He bowed deeply, avoiding your eyes. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the faint scent of earth and steel, the pin in your hair a bittersweet reminder of the distance that now separated you.

For weeks after, you found yourself restless, wandering the garden paths where you had once talked and laughed together. You scribbled letter after letter, pouring out questions and updates, recounting bits of palace gossip and even sending sketches of the places you’d been. But no reply ever came.

At first, you tried to excuse it—surely, he was too busy, too occupied with the rigors of war to respond. Still, you kept writing, sending your letters to the front lines with the faint hope that one day, you’d receive one in return.

“Any news of the general’s son?” you would ask your father over dinner, feigning casual interest.

“He’s doing well,” your father would reply, distractedly cutting into his meal. “His tactics in the northern campaign have earned him commendation. A fine young soldier.”

You pressed further, ignoring the disapproving look your mother shot you. “And... is he safe?”

Your father raised a brow but indulged you. “Of course. The reports say he’s advancing quickly through the ranks. A promotion to captain is already under consideration.”

Your chest swelled with pride at the thought, but it was quickly eclipsed by frustration. If he was receiving such accolades, surely he could find the time to write a simple letter?

“Why do you trouble your father with such questions?” your mother chided later, her tone clipped. “The general’s son is serving the nation. You should focus on more important matters, like preparing for your duties.”

But your concern for Choso only grew. Whenever news from the front lines arrived, you would listen intently, hoping to hear his name mentioned. When you did, it brought a fleeting sense of relief, but it never lasted long.

The silence from him felt heavier with each passing month. You couldn’t understand it—how could someone who had once been your closest companion, who had sworn to always protect you, sever that bond so easily?

And yet, you never stopped writing. Each letter was folded with care, sealed with your personal wax stamp, and sent off with the same unwavering hope. Even if he didn’t reply, even if you didn’t understand why, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

The city was alive with celebration, a symphony of cheers, music, and the occasional crackle of fireworks that lit up the night sky. The soldiers had finally come home after a long winded war, and you just couldn’t miss out on the excitement. After Choso’s departure, you had grown. Before you were a gangly teenager, but now you were a young woman. With this came you forming your own opinion, independent of our parents, and had developed a habit of frequently sneaking out of the palace.

You couldn’t bear to stay confined to the palace, not when the air was thick with excitement and the news of the army’s triumphant return had set the entire city alight. The soldiers, clad in polished armor that gleamed even in the dim light, strode through the streets in small groups while the people cheered on the sidelines. They carried themselves with the confidence of men who had seen battle and emerged victorious.

Young ladies lingered at the edges of the crowd, their eyes alight with hope as they watched the soldiers pass. Some called out to them, their voices playful and lilting, while others merely smiled shyly, clutching kerchiefs or flowers they clearly longed to offer. The soldiers, for the most part, maintained a stoic demeanor, though a few exchanged grins or nodded in acknowledgment, their faces betraying a mix of pride and exhaustion.

Children darted between legs, waving tiny flags and shouting in delight, while their parents looked on with a mix of relief and gratitude. The scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced wine wafted through the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the soldiers’ armor. It was a night of unity, of celebration, where the lines between commoner and noble blurred in the shared joy of victory.

Draped in a simple cloak to conceal your identity, you slipped past the guards at the palace gates, your heart pounding with both exhilaration and trepidation. The anonymity of the cloak felt liberating as you merged with the crowd, the world suddenly vast and unguarded in a way it never was within the palace walls.

Laughter surrounded you, the contagious energy of the revelry lifting your spirits as you wandered farther from the familiar confines of royal life. You paused to admire a street performer juggling flaming torches, your cloak billowing slightly in the breeze. But before you could move on, a sudden gust snatched the handkerchief tucked into your cloak.

You gasped, your fingers grasping for it, but the delicate fabric was already airborne, dancing above the heads of the crowd. You watched helplessly as it soared higher, carried by the playful wind. Instinctively, you gave chase, weaving through the throng of revelers as your heart raced with the thrill of pursuit.

The handkerchief drifted out of sight, disappearing beyond the swell of people. Your steps faltered, and you stood on tiptoe, scanning the crowd in vain. It was only then that a firm hand shot up above the sea of heads, catching the fluttering fabric mid-air. The sight of your handkerchief, caught in a strong, gloved grip, sent a jolt through you.

Your gaze traveled upward, and there he stood—a figure that was at once familiar and startlingly different. His broad shoulders and proud stance were unmistakable even before he turned, his dark eyes locking with yours.

“Your Highness?” His voice was deep, steady, and entirely too familiar. Then, his eyes went to your hair—you, still wearing the hairpin he gave you that day—and they filled with a conflicted, longing sort of expression.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you froze. He looked so much…bigger. He always had muscles due to his frequent physical lessons, but he was so much taller now, his face a lot more sculpted. Before you could interpret what the lurching in your heart meant, he took a step towards you. But before he could take another step toward you, you turned and ran instinctively, the sound of his voice chasing you as surely as his footsteps.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! If Choso knew you had sneaked out, he would send you right back, citing useless things about duty and protecting you. While your traitorous heart started beating faster as soon as you saw him—different, but still undeniably Choso—you knew your liberty was at an end if he sent you home and informed your parents of what you did.

You bolted as fast as you could, your cloak billowing behind you as you darted into a narrow alley. Footsteps echoed against the cobblestones, heavy and deliberate, chasing you down. You reached the end of the alley and stopped, your chest heaving, unsure whether to keep running or face him.

“Your Highness,” the voice came again, closer this time.

You spun around, and there he was. Choso. But he wasn’t the boy you remembered—he was a man now. Broad shoulders filled out his uniform, the insignia of his rank glinting on his chest. His hair was tied back, revealing a face hardened by battle and time. Yet his eyes, dark and intense, still held the same quiet depth you’d known as children.

He dropped to one knee, his hand over his heart. “Your Highness.”

You gaped at his display. Since when did he start kneeling? “What are you doing?”

His voice came out, devoid of the warmth you had once known. “It’s protocol, Your Highness.” His head remained bowed, his knee pressed to the uneven cobblestones, the hand holding your handkerchief resting against his heart.

But you were in denial, scrambling to pull him up by his arms. It was futile; he was way stronger than you, and at your touch, he jumped back, as if stung. Wounded, you urged him. “Get up,” you stepped closer, “Choso, it’s me. You don’t need to—”

“I must, Your Highness.” His tone was calm but resolute, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Unless you are issuing an imperial command, I have no choice but to honor the rules set forth by your station.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “An imperial command?” The words tasted bitter on your tongue. You didn’t want commands; you wanted familiarity, the easy camaraderie you once shared.

“Yes, Your Highness.” He finally lifted his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “If you do not wish me to kneel, then say it as such. Otherwise…” He lowered his head again. “This is my place.”

“Your place?” You felt a flicker of anger rise in your chest. “Choso, your place is by my side, as it always has been! Don’t—don’t treat me like some distant monarch.”

His shoulders tensed, and you thought you caught a flash of something—guilt, perhaps?—in the way his fingers tightened around the handkerchief. But still, he didn’t move.

Frustrated, you stepped even closer, your voice rising despite your efforts to remain calm. “Get up,” you said, reaching out and tugging at his arm. “I said, get up!”

“I cannot,” he said softly, the words cutting through your frustration like a blade. “Not unless you order it as my superior.”

You stared at him, a mix of hurt and disbelief swirling in your chest. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “If that’s what it takes, then I command you—get up, Choso. I command you to stand!”

For a moment, the tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. Slowly, reluctantly, he rose to his feet, towering over you with a presence that felt both familiar and foreign.

But as you looked up at him, your frustration only grew. “This isn’t you,” you said, your voice softer now, tinged with sadness. “You’re treating me like I’m just your princess, like I’m someone you barely know. Do you even know how much it hurt when you never wrote back to me? I kept sending letter after letter, but it was like you didn’t care. Like you forgot about me.”

Choso’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “It wasn’t my place to respond, Your Highness.”

It was that damn phrase. “Your place?” you echoed, now even more bitterly. “You were my friend, Choso. My closest friend. Now you stand here, calling me Your Highness like I’m a stranger, like we never ran through the gardens or talked under the stars. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

For a moment, his expression softened, but it was fleeting. He straightened, his demeanor distant once more. “It’s dangerous for you to be here,” he said quietly. “I need to call for a carriage to take you back to the palace.”

Your heart sunk to your derriere. If Choso did indeed send you back, your parents would undeniably discover that you’ve been sneaking out. “No!” you snapped, stepping forward. “You can’t. If my parents find out I was here, they’ll—”

“They’ll ensure your safety,” he interrupted, his voice steady but firm. “And that’s what matters.”

You stared at him, now anger bubbling in your chest. “So you’ll just hand me over like I’m some burden to be dealt with? What about you?” Then, in a strong fit, you bursted out. “Are you going to stay here and fool around with girls while I’m locked away in the palace?”

His eyes widened briefly at your accusation, a flicker of surprise breaking through his stoic mask. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step back. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“Fair?” you shot back, your voice trembling. “What’s fair about any of this, Choso? You’re not even trying to fight for us—for the friendship we used to have.”

He hesitated, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then make it simple!” you demanded, your heart aching with every word. “Stop pushing me away. Stop acting like I don’t matter to you anymore.”

For a moment, you thought he might say something—something real, something that would bridge the growing chasm between you. But instead, he turned away, his voice steady and distant as he said, “Wait here. I’ll call for the carriage.”

You watched him walk away, the ache in your chest spreading until it felt like it would consume you entirely. The handkerchief in your hand trembled as you clenched your fingers around it, your anger and sadness swirling into a storm of emotion.

And yet, even as he disappeared into the bustling streets, a part of you refused to believe this was the end. You couldn’t let it be.

Ever since his return to the palace, Choso has been ignoring you.

It’s not that you were spending every hour and every minute with him before, when he was just your childhood friend. However, you would meet everyday, whether it to be sneak off into the gardens at night, or meet for lunch or dinner. Even a request of yours could’ve secured a visit to town, the both of you going to town to eat pastries and street food while accompanied by a chaperone. Of course, that was due to your incessant pleas to your disapproving mother, but you could score an occasional playdate outside the palace every month or so.

But it feels…different. And he feels different.

You oft find yourself daydreaming about him, older and a decorated soldier. And before you can catch yourself, you find your cheeks heated and your heart set aflutter. It’s a bit mind-boggling, really. Ever since Choso left, none of the future dukes and lords had ever caught your attention, even at balls. Their gentle, weak disposition didn’t compare to your Choso, you always thought. Back then, you had always thought of it as pride for your best friend, but now…..

Musing aside, you’re tired of this distance Choso has created between you. So you choose to seek him out.

The castle courtyard was alive with the sharp clang of swords and the rhythmic stomp of boots on hard-packed dirt. You leaned over the balustrade of the upper terrace, concealed behind a stone pillar, watching the soldiers below. It wasn’t the sparring or the strategy that captivated you—it was Choso.

The sun bore down on him as he moved with precision and power, his blade a silver blur as he sparred with one of the veteran knights. His whole torso is bare; damp with sweat, the sun shines against the cords and cords of muscle that then lead to a string of hair that trails into his trousers. The muscles in his arms ripple with every swing and parry. You bite your lip, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks that you stubbornly attributed to the summer heat.

He had changed so much. Gone was the boy who had laughed with you under the willow tree and run with you through the gardens. In his place was a man who carried the weight of war on his broad shoulders, his every movement deliberate, his expression unreadable. And yet, despite the distance he put between you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When the sparring session ended, Choso handed his sword to a squire and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. You straightened as he turned, half-expecting him to glance up and spot you. But he didn’t. Instead, he spoke briefly to the knight, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. You couldn’t keep hiding and watching from afar. You had to speak to him, to demand answers for why he had been avoiding you since the day in the alley.

Quickly, you made your way down to the courtyard, your pulse racing as you rehearsed what you would say. But when you reached the training grounds, Choso was already heading toward the barracks.

“Choso!” you called out, your voice echoing across the courtyard.

He froze mid-step, his shoulders tensing before he turned slowly to face you. His expression was neutral, guarded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something he quickly masked.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head. “What brings you here?”

You frowned, frustrated by the formality in his tone. “I wanted to speak with you,” you said, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy with training and my duties.”

“That’s a lie,” you said, crossing your arms. “You always find a reason to leave whenever I try to approach you. You didn’t even look at me after the alley—”

“Your Highness,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not proper for you to be seen in the training grounds.”

“Proper?” you repeated, anger flaring in your chest. “Since when do you care about what’s proper? You didn’t care when we were sneaking out or when we were running through the gardens—”

“That was different,” he said, his tone softer now. “We were children. Things aren’t the same anymore.”

“Why not?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the soldiers milling about in the distance. “I’m not pushing you away,” he said finally. “I’m doing what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “How can ignoring me and avoiding me be what’s best for me?”

Choso didn’t answer. Instead, he bowed his head again, his hands clenched at his sides. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I need to return to my duties.”

And before you could stop him, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the courtyard, your heart aching with every step he took.

You paced the length of your chambers, clutching the skirts of your dress. It’s been two times that Choso dismissed since his arrival. Did he abhor you so?

It was as if an invisible wall had been erected between you, the builder of it Choso for some mysterious reason. Proprietary aside, it would be okay for the occasional chat, would it not? After all, he was still a noble in his own regard, and a conversation or two wouldn’t be frowned upon. So why was he ignoring you entirely?

You couldn’t take it anymore. If he wouldn’t come to you, then you would ensure he had no choice but to stay by your side. If he truly detests it, you will let him go, no matter how painful it would be and how ardently you would mourn your friendship. But you needed to know.

Resolved, you marched to your parents’ audience chamber, where they were seated in quiet discussion. Your father looked up first, his brows furrowing slightly at your abrupt entrance. “What is it, my dear? You seem troubled.”

Your mother glanced at you as well, seated right next to the king, her sharp gaze assessing. “Has something happened?”

You straightened your shoulders, facing them both, willing your voice to remain steady. “Father, Mother, I have a request.”

Your father tilted his head, curious. “Go on.”

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “I would like Choso to be assigned as my personal guard.”

The queen blinked, her lips pressing into a thin line, and questioned, “Choso?”

“Yes,” you said quickly to prevent your mother from getting a word in. “He’s proven himself in battle, hasn’t he? He’s been promoted several times for his skill and loyalty. Who better to protect me?”

Your father leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “It’s true he’s risen quickly through the ranks. He’s a fine soldier.”

“And he’s someone I trust,” you added, stepping closer. “He’s been by my side since we were children. I feel safer with him than with anyone else. With me growing into adulthood, there would be no one better to be by my side.”

Your mother’s gaze sharpened. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with his recent return to the palace, would it?”

You met her eyes, refusing to back down. “It has everything to do with the fact that I need someone I can rely on. Someone who knows me.”

Your father exchanged a look with your mother, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. I will speak to the general about the arrangement.” Then, a little wryly, he adds, “Although, I did hear that it was him that reported you when you were sneaking out in public. Perhaps it would be a fine match.” At that, your mother visibly bristled at the memory of hearing that you were out, unguarded.

At the king’s words, relief washed over you, but it was quickly tempered by your mother’s stern voice. “This is highly unusual, you know. A princess requesting a specific guard. People will talk.”

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes, but showing sass to your mother would mean that she would argue further.  Instead, you went and showed her your pride. “Let them,” you said, lifting your chin. “I don’t care what they say.”

Your father chuckled softly, knowing you would say something of the sort. “Spoken like a true princess.”

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head. “Both of you, Father and Mother.”

As you left the chamber, your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was your chance—your chance to bring Choso back into your life. Whatever walls he had built between you, you were determined to tear them down.

The water was warm, steam curling gently around you as you leaned back in the large marble tub. The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant patterns across the tiled floor. It was one of the few moments you had to yourself, free from the watchful eyes of attendants and the endless constraints of royal duty. You closed your eyes, sinking deeper into the water, allowing yourself to relax—until the door to your bathing chamber slammed open.

“Your Highness, why did you—” At first, Choso raised his voice slightly, storming in. Then, he stopped right in his tracks as he noticed you, and your face, your neck and then the rest of your body engorged in soapy, steamy water. Blushing furiously, he turned, scrambling for the door. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to—”

He was rigid as he stormed toward the exit, and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the sight. “Choso, wait,” you called, your voice laced with amusement. He stopped abruptly, halting awkwardly in his tracks. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm for your new title,” you teased, “I’d prefer if you didn’t barge into the bathing chamber. Let us count ourselves lucky that you had not seen… more.”

It was nearly impossible not to laugh now. Even the back of his neck was flushed a deep crimson, and it struck you as absurdly endearing. The aloof and stoic soldier who had spent weeks ignoring you had crumbled into a shy boy at the mere sight of you in a tub. You supposed it made sense—he’d likely not had much interaction with women, what with his rigid dedication to the army. Still, his reaction felt... exaggerated.

Choso let out a shaky exhale, his voice strained when he finally spoke. “I apologize,” he said, his tone clipped as though to mask his discomfort. “But I must ask—why did you instate me as your guard?”

The answer was simple, and you played absentmindedly with a soap bubble as you replied, “Because there is no one I trust more than you.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for the faint dripping of water. Then, Choso spoke, his voice low and almost pained. “Why must you do this to me? Why must you torment me so?”

What?

His words pierced through the lighthearted atmosphere, leaving you stunned. A pang of hurt welled in your chest at the sharpness of his tone. “Does it torment you to be in my company?” you asked, laughing scornfully to hide the sting.

When he didn’t answer, the silence was louder than any words could have been.

“If it torments you,” you continued bitterly, “then so be it. You have already had my one liberty stripped away. Mother and Father have doubled the surveillance on me, all thanks to you.” The memory of your recent restrictions only added fuel to the fire of your frustration. “Is this not fair? An eye for an eye, then. Perhaps your torment will teach you to stop pretending you know what’s best for me.”

Still brimming with anger, you lifted your chin and gestured to the door. “You may leave now.”

For a moment, he stood there, the weight of his presence filling the room. Then, with a stiff nod, he turned to the door. “Your Highness,” he murmured, his voice cold and formal.

And then, he was gone.

You really do abhor dinner parties.

There’s much wrong with them, and if you had to, you could do a systematic rundown of every single grievance. The first and foremost was the absurd inability to properly enjoy the food. The chefs’ hard work deserved to be indulged in, not nibbled delicately with those ridiculous little spoons. And then there was the matter of breathing, which you could barely manage with your waist cinched so tightly and your bodice forcing your chest up like some cruel display. Sitting down practically demanded you forgo the simple luxury of air.

But the worst part? Having to entertain men.

“And I have acquired double the profits of Lord Gojo,” Lord Naoya declared, puffing his chest like a rooster preening in the henhouse. His voice boomed with self-importance, his words spilling out in a showy, rehearsed cadence.

You couldn’t help yourself—you smiled. And while it appeared to him as admiration, it was born of pure amusement. The man clearly thought you were too dim to know better, but you were well-versed in state finances. Lord Naoya’s exaggerated claims were as transparent as glass.

On your right, Choso sat silently, his role as your personal guard justifying his unusually close position. He had been quiet all evening, his eyes scanning the room more than his plate.

“And surely, a woman as lovely as yourself would agree that business acumen is the truest mark of a man’s value,” Naoya continued, leaning closer to you with a smirk you found utterly punchable.

You giggled, not at his words, but at the sheer absurdity of them. You bit your lip to stifle a laugh, but your amusement couldn’t be fully hidden.

When you finally turned to glance at Choso, however, your mirth faltered. He wasn’t looking at Naoya anymore—his dark eyes were locked on you, his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

He looked very upset.

You blinked, confused, before glancing back at Naoya, who was still prattling on, utterly oblivious. Was Choso… angry at you?

It didn’t make sense. After you had initiated him as your guard, he’d been resigned after that confrontation in your bathing chambers. Ever since, you’d seen him stoic, protective, and even exasperated, but this—this was different. The weight of his gaze lingered on you like a reprimand, and it unsettled you in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

“Your Highness, I trust you’d agree,” Naoya pressed, oblivious to the charged air.

“Agree?” you echoed, snapping back to attention. You hadn’t been listening, too distracted by Choso’s silent brooding. “Oh, of course,” you said vaguely, waving your hand with a polite smile. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Naoya looked pleased with himself, but you barely noticed. Your focus shifted back to Choso, who had turned his head forward, his jaw tight. You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Is something the matter?”

He didn’t look at you, his tone curt. “Nothing, Your Highness.”

Your stomach twisted at the formality. The night had already been exhausting enough, and now Choso was acting like you’d personally offended him.

“Choso,” you pressed, your voice softer now, “if I’ve done something to upset you—”

“It’s not my place to say,” he interrupted, finally looking at you. His gaze was sharp, cutting through your defenses. “But if I may offer counsel, I’d suggest not wasting your smiles on men like him.”

You blinked, taken aback. His words weren’t loud, but they struck with the force of a hammer.

“What does that mean?” you whispered, your amusement long gone, replaced by confusion—and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“It means,” Choso said, his voice low, “that he’s not worth it.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with implication.

Before you could respond, the clinking of glasses drew everyone’s attention, and you were forced to look away as a toast was made. But even as the room filled with polite applause and laughter, your thoughts were consumed by Choso’s quiet but pointed remarks.

When you glanced back at him, his focus was elsewhere, his expression carefully neutral. Yet something about the tension in his shoulders told you that the conversation wasn’t over—not really.

And for the rest of the evening, Naoya’s words became nothing more than background noise, drowned out by the quiet storm brewing in Choso’s eyes.

The air in your chambers was warm, the faint crackle of the fireplace soothing you as your maid finished tugging the laces of your nightgown into place. The fabric was delicate, thin enough to feel the cool evening breeze against your skin despite the room's warmth. With a bow, the maid excused herself, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Ever since that dinner party with Naoya, Choso had been more distant than ever. Before, it had seemed that he had warmed up to the task of being your guard; whenever you walked through the garden, you eventually warmed him enough that the both of you could converse during the stroll. Of course, it hadn’t returned to what it was like before, but it was still progress. However, now it seemed that all he had to offer was curt responses and avoidant stares. 

The change grated on you, more than you cared to admit. You weren’t naïve; you knew something had shifted that night. The way he had looked at you, the way his words had cut—it all lingered, a splinter in your chest that you couldn’t pull free.

Still, tonight was meant to be routine, a brief reprieve from the emotional turmoil. You always ended your evenings with a massage, a small luxury that helped soothe the tension from the day. Summoning Choso to your chambers, you intended for him to call for the maid who usually performed the task.

When he arrived, his expression was as stony as ever. “You called for me, Your Highness?”

“Yes, Choso,” you said, smoothing your hands over the hem of your nightgown. You lazed back on your chaise lounge, head against pillow as you looked at him. “I need the maid for my massage. Could you fetch her?”

He hesitated. “The maids have retired for the night. Shall I summon someone from the servants’ quarters?”

You frowned. The thought of disturbing anyone at this hour felt excessive. Then, your gaze drifted to Choso, his broad shoulders rigid, his hands clasped behind his back in his usual formal stance. An idea struck you, and you spoke before fully thinking it through.

“Then you’ll do it.”

His dark eyes snapped to yours, wide with disbelief. “Your Highness, I—”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence but unable to fully hide the mischief in your smile. “Oh, come now, Choso. You’re stronger than any maid. Surely, your hands would be better suited for the task.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you as though you’d just declared the sky was green. His lips parted, but no words came out, his gaze darting nervously around the room before settling back on you. “I don’t think that’s… appropriate,” he said carefully, his voice low and strained.

You leaned back slightly, arching a brow. “And why not? It’s just a massage. Surely, as my personal guard, it’s your duty to ensure my comfort, no?”

“Your Highness—”

“Choso,” you interrupted, your tone softening as you leaned forward slightly, letting your hair cascade over one shoulder. “You’ve sworn an oath to protect me. Are you really going to deny me such a simple request? Besides,” you added with a teasing smile, “I trust you. Who better to take care of me?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his shoulders visibly tensing. It was rare to see him so uncharacteristically flustered, and you found it almost endearing. Still, you could see the war waging behind his eyes—the struggle between his rigid sense of propriety and his inability to deny you.

“Choso,” you said again, gentler this time, “it’s just us here. No one else needs to know. Please?”

The word seemed to undo him. After a long, weighted pause, he exhaled sharply, his hands clenching at his sides before he gave a stiff nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

You smiled in satisfaction and shifted, lying down on the chaise lounge with your head resting on your folded arms. The thin fabric of your nightgown clung to your back and shoulders, leaving little to the imagination, but you paid it no mind. Choso, however, hesitated, his gaze flickering over you before he finally moved to kneel beside you, his movements almost painfully hesitant.

You settled onto the chaise lounge, lying on your stomach and pulling your hair over one shoulder to expose the curve of your neck. The thin fabric of your nightgown clung to your body, leaving little to the imagination, but you paid no mind to it. Choso, however, lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his dark eyes flickering over the exposed skin before quickly darting away.

The tension in the room was palpable, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his hesitation. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until finally, he knelt beside you, his movements stiff and deliberate. His hands hovered just above your shoulders for a moment, as if he were debating whether to go through with it, before he finally made contact.

The first press of his palms was firm, his calloused hands warm against your skin. He worked in silence, but his touch was tentative, almost reluctant, as though every movement was a battle against himself. His fingers found the knots in your shoulders, but his grip tightened slightly as you let out a soft sigh of relief.

“You’re good at this,” you murmured, your voice languid. “I should’ve asked you sooner.”

Choso didn’t respond, but his hands stilled for the briefest moment, his jaw tightening. He resumed a beat later, his touch growing more confident as his fingers moved lower, kneading along the length of your spine. Yet, there was something almost possessive in the way he worked, his hands lingering at the curve of your back, brushing the edges of your nightgown with an intimacy that felt deliberate, even if unspoken.

Heat pooled in your belly, but the mood shifted when Choso spoke, his voice low and edged with something that made your breath catch.

“Do you let all your guards do this to you?”

Your eyes snapped open, the sharpness of his tone cutting through the haze. You turned your head to look at him, frowning. “What?”

He straightened, pulling his hands away, anger visible on his face. “Do you let all your guards touch you like this, or am I just the special fool?”

The accusation in his voice stung. You sat up on the chaise lounge, clutching the fabric of your nightgown to your chest. “What are you implying?”

“I’m implying,” he said, his eyes dark and filled with something unnameable, “that you smiled at Naoya like he was the only man in the room. That you entertained his nonsense—his lies—like you actually enjoyed it.”

A sharp laugh escaped you, incredulous and hurt. “You think I was flirting with Naoya? That I would ever entertain a fool like him?”

“You did tonight,” Choso shot back, his jaw clenched tightly. “You smiled and laughed at him, as if he deserved it. As if you weren’t above him. The you I knew wouldn’t have entertained someone like Naoya for a second. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

That cut deeper than it should have. Your breath hitched, and frustration welled in your chest, bursting free before you could stop it.

“You don’t know me anymore?” you echoed, your voice trembling with emotion. “Well, Choso, I don’t know you either! You’re the one who left me without a word. You’re the one who never answered my letters, who pushed me away for no reason. You didn’t answer them for years, Choso. For years! How can you stand there and talk about me changing when you’ve done everything you could to shut me out?”

He flinched, as if your words struck a nerve. His gaze fell to the floor, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I didn’t answer because I thought it was better that way,” he said quietly. “Because I knew… whatever this was—whatever we were—it couldn’t last. I didn’t want to make it harder for you.”

Your heart cracked at his words, tears threatening to spill over. “You didn’t want to make it harder for me?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You made it unbearable, Choso! You didn’t just leave me, you abandoned me. Without explanation, without closure. You were my friend, my closest ally, and you just… disappeared!”

“I was avoiding the inevitable,” he said, his tone low and bitter. “I was saving us both from something that could never be.”

“And why not?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Why couldn’t we have stayed friends? Why couldn’t you have stayed as someone I trusted, someone I could rely on?”

Choso let out a harsh, incredulous laugh, his head bowing as his hands rose to rub at his temples. When he looked back at you, his eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You think I just want to be your ally?” Choso’s voice cracked, his tone harsh and trembling, a storm barely contained within him. He stepped closer, his shadow stretching toward you in the dim light. His dark eyes blazed, raw and unguarded, piercing straight through you.

“Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life standing at your side, pretending it doesn’t destroy me every time you smile at another man?” he continued, his voice rising with emotion. “Do you think I want to be some nameless figure in your life, someone who exists only to bow, to nod, to follow orders while the rest of the world gets to bask in your warmth?”

Your breath hitched as he took another step, the space between you shrinking.

“I don’t want to be your ally, your friend, or some loyal servant,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I want you. I have always wanted you.”

His confession struck you like lightning, setting every nerve ablaze. You could see the anguish etched into his features, the way his hands shook as if he was struggling to hold himself back.

“I want to touch you without wondering if it’s inappropriate,” he went on, his words tumbling out, unrestrained. “I want to kiss you without the weight of the crown between us. I want to wake up beside you every morning, knowing you’re mine—truly mine—and not just some unattainable dream I’ve been foolish enough to carry.”

“Choso…” you whispered, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

“I want to tear apart every damned rule, every line drawn between us,” he continued, his voice thick with frustration and desire. “I want the world to see that you’re mine—not Naoya’s, not some prince’s, not anyone else’s. Mine.”

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair, his composure unraveling further. “But that’s not what the world allows, is it?” he said, his tone laced with venom. “Because I’m not a prince or a duke or anyone worthy of you. I’m just a man—a soldier. And the world says I can’t have you.”

His chest heaved with the force of his confession, and his eyes—God, his eyes—burned with a pain so deep it was almost unbearable to witness.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as his words sank in. “You could have had me,” you said, your voice trembling, tears stinging your eyes. “If you’d just stayed, if you’d let me in instead of shutting me out. We could have figured this out together, Choso. I would have fought for you.”

His expression faltered, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his anger. “And what would you have me do?” he asked hoarsely. “Stand beside you while everyone whispers that I’m unworthy? Watch as suitors line up for your hand, knowing I can’t stop them because it’s my duty to protect you, not love you?”

“I don’t care what the world says!” you burst out, stepping closer, your voice rising with desperation. “I don’t care about duty or station or rules. All I ever wanted was you, Choso. You, as my friend, my ally, my—”

“Your what?” he interrupted, his voice low and rough. “Say it. Say what I’ve been longing to hear and dreading all at once.”

Your breath hitched, tears streaming down your face as you met his gaze. “My everything,” you whispered.

For a moment, the tension between you hung thick and electric, the weight of years of unspoken words pressing down on you both. Then Choso stepped back, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight.

“That’s why I stayed away,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “Because I knew if I didn’t, I’d lose myself in you completely. And I wouldn’t be able to let you go. This is why I must stay away.” 

For a moment, he lingered there, his hand flexing at his side as if fighting some invisible force. His gaze dropped, and when he finally turned away, it was slow, deliberate, each step a struggle. He didn’t look back as he crossed the threshold, the heavy sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence.

The silence in your room was suffocating. Curtains drawn tightly, the dim flicker of a single candle cast wavering shadows on the stone walls. Plates of untouched food sat on a tray near the door, abandoned by the maids you had dismissed hours ago. The only sound was the faint rustle of your gown as you shifted on the edge of your bed, your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold your broken pieces together.

A soft knock broke the stillness, tentative and almost hesitant. You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to see anyone, let alone speak. Whoever it was would surely leave if you didn’t respond.

But the door creaked open.

Your heart twisted. “I told you all to leave me be,” you said hoarsely, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I’m not one of your maids,” came a quiet reply from a voice that was all-too-familiar.

Your head snapped up, breath catching in your throat as Choso stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. His dark eyes, always so steady and unreadable, now held an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

“Get out,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended, though the hurt behind it was impossible to mask. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I know,” he murmured, taking a hesitant step forward. He held something in his hands—a small stack of parchment, edges worn and yellowed. “But I have something to say to you.”

You frowned, your gaze darting to the papers he carried. “What is that?”

“Letters,” Choso said, his voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard before continuing, “The ones I wrote to you but never sent.”

You stiffened, your heart lurching painfully in your chest. “Why are you showing me this now?”

“Because I should have given them to you a long time ago,” he said simply. “And because I need you to know… what I couldn’t say before. But what I feel I must say now, for I am done with pretending I am not a selfish, selfish man.”

He stepped closer, setting the letters on the bed beside you. For a moment, he hesitated, then knelt before you, his hands resting on his thighs as he looked up at you with a mixture of guilt and determination, as if he had made a decision. And you fight desperately to not yourself believe that, perhaps, he has changed his mind, that he will finally take you in the way you desire.

But you steel your heart as you cautiously look at him. 

“Read them,” he said quietly. “Please.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the stack, the paper cool and rough beneath your touch. The first letter was dated years ago, the ink slightly smudged, as if his hand had lingered too long on the words.

My dearest friend,

I’ve written and torn up this letter a dozen times. How do I explain the ache I feel every night I march under foreign stars? How do I explain that even on the battlefield, amidst the chaos, my mind drifts to you? I think of our secret meetings in the garden, the way you’d laugh as you dared me to meet you in the willow tree every night. Do you remember that night we barely escaped the guards? Your laughter, your gown splayed across the forest floor. I dream of those nights—of you leaning close to steal the fruit in my palm, staring up at me, the world disappearing, and wishing I could ask for more. For you close to me not under the pretense of stealing the pomegranate in my hand, but for something more.

Your voice broke as you read, tears pooling in your eyes. Choso remained silent, his head bowed, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

You moved to the next letter.

The scent of jasmine haunted me on the journey here. Every step of the way, I remembered you crouched beneath the trellis, daring me to pluck the flowers despite the gardener’s wrath. When I handed you the bouquet, your smile made me feel invincible, as though I could conquer kingdoms just to see it again. I wished then that I could have told you the truth—that every reckless moment we shared was a reprieve from the weight of duty. I wanted to kiss you in the moonlight, to tell you that you were more than a dream to me. I tried to, in part, with the hairpin I gave you, one that amplified your gentle beauty even more than I thought possible. But how could I ruin what little time we had?

“Choso,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why didn’t you send these?”

“I was a coward,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought it was kinder to stay away. To bury how I felt. But it wasn’t kinder, was it?”

You shook your head, unable to speak as you continued reading, each letter peeling away the walls you’d built to protect yourself from the pain of his absence.

When you reached the last letter, your breath hitched.

If I were braver, I’d tell you this to your face: I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time we ran barefoot through the gardens, laughing until we couldn’t breathe. I’ve loved you since you bandaged my hand after my sparring lessons, scolding me and treating me gently as if I weren’t a warrior, as if my rough, damaged hands were worth your care. I love you with a desperation that terrifies me, that kept me awake in camp as I replayed your smile over and over. If I lose you now, it will be my own doing. But still, I love you.

Your tears fell freely now, soaking the parchment. Choso rose slowly, his hands lifting as if to touch you but stopping just shy of your skin.

“Say something,” he pleaded, his voice raw.

Instead, you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet you. Your lips found his in a kiss that was fierce and unrestrained, pouring every ounce of longing, anger, and love into the connection.

Choso froze for a heartbeat before melting into you. The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matched your own.

His hands moved to grasp your waist, as if afraid you might vanish. Before they could touch you, he paused as if doubting his ability to be able to touch you. To your frustration, the heat of his almost-contact pulled away. “Your Highness—”

“Choso,” you pleaded, grasping his hands in yours and placing them on their rightful place: your body. You dragged his hands down your torso, helping him explore your curves sensually, intimately as he squeezed his brows together, eyes shut, conveying his inner turmoil. His resolve almost cracked as you begged him, “Take me. Please.”

With agitation, he withdrew his hands from your grasp, painfully clenching them by his sides as he groaned. “Your Highness, you’re playing with fire. I mustn’t. Your body is of a thousand gold, and I would never dare to touch you with my hands—”

But you interrupted him by snorting. “If it is of a thousand gold, or whatever archaic term the royal legends have invented, then you are a thousand gold richer.” You gently took his face in your arms, kissing his forehead. “I am yours, and if you believe that anyone will have my heart after you, then you are most grievously mistaken.” 

He still looked at you, both kneeling on your bed, with a conflicted expression. You gave him a reassuring look before pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. Then, you teased him softly. “Will you not fight for my hand? Will you truly let me be promised to another man after this?”

His eyes darkened in a possessive manner, as he joined his lips against yourself furiously. “I would never,” he punctuated his interruptions with a searing kiss. “let anyone have you after this.”

With tender hands that heavily contrasted his desperation, he slipped the shoulder of your dress, dragging the hem down and down until your breasts were bare to the air. “So, so beautiful,” he whispered before enclosing your nubs in his mouth, kissing them both tenderly.

You could only but gasp, victim to his ministrations as he sneaked another hand up your legs, gently caressing your thighs until he met your core. He groaned, louder than ever, when he was met with the bare heat, wet with your desire and arousal all for him. With painstaking gentleness, he eased a finger in, drinking in your moans and sounds of pleasure. 

He couldn’t help but smile at the small scream that escaped you when he curled his fingers up. It seemed he had found the place that pleasured you most, one that you had stayed unbeknownst to. And he definitely couldn’t stop himself from torturing and repeatedly hitting against it with the way squeals of his name left your mouth whenever he did so.

Before you knew it, an unknown feeling washed over you as Choso kept continuing his touches, one that seemed like worship with how he was looking for your reactions, for your pleasure. A gush of slick escaped you, and Choso kissed your breasts one final time before drawing out his finger.

You peered down at him, flushed, as his eyes stayed trained on you while he slowly drew his finger inside his mouth, seeming to savor your taste. At last, he pulled it away from his mouth and asked, voice hoarse, “how are you feeling?”

You laugh bashfully and look away, blushing. “You know you don’t need to ask that. But,” and you pause, looking at him through your lashes, “you know I want more.”

The flush that was only apparent on his cheeks spread to his entire face and neck and he whines as he buries his face in your breasts once more, now to evade eye contact. “Don’t say things like that. It makes holding back even more arduous.”

You stroke his hair, smiling softly. “Would you have any qualms about taking my…maidenhood if you were my husband.”

His answer is immediate. “Absolutely not.”

“So you want to…make love with me?” You heat up at your own words, nervously looking at him in fear of his rejection.

He pauses, but then slowly nods. “Well, yes, but—”

“Then we shall put archaic traditions aside. Choso,” and you look at him mischievously as he squints at you, “I command you to make love to me.”

The reaction is immediate. As if animated again, he pins you down against your mattress, eyes feral as he takes your lips with his once more. With both hands, a riiiip echoes across the room as he entirely tears your shift in his bare hands. Mind you, it was not weak material, and you lay dumbfounded as he strips his shirt off.

You don’t even have time to admire his bare torso, muscled as you knew it would be. Your eyes automatically trail down to the string of hair that leads down to his v-line as he rids himself of his trousers. 

What gets uncovered makes you pray for your life, and you gasp, eyes wide. “How is that even supposed to go inside—”

He says your name, reassuringly, as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I will take the utmost care of you. I promise.” He lines his length with your entrance, and, with another kiss, he pushes in gently.

When his member first breaches you, you gasp, dizzied by the fullness. Then, as he slowly bottoms out, you whine while impaled on his cock. “More.”

Basking in the euphoria of your clenching heat around him, at your request, he curses. He pulls out his length—slowly, gently—and then slams back in, and you squeal, whispering a breathless utter of his name once more. 

He continues making love to you, the sounds of his devotion echoing across the room. When you both climax, it is down with a prayer of the other’s name, as a promise. That you are both each other’s, and no qualms about proprietary and status could any longer apprehend either of you.

When the both of you settle down, him having gently cleaned you with a cloth, he collapses next to you in bed, bare arms engulfing you and pulling you closer. As you both lie there, skin to skin, you giggle at your own thoughts.

At the sound, Choso perks up, looking at you in soft amusement. “What’s the matter, my love?”

Ignoring the way your heart fluttered at the nickname, you replied, “I daresay you will be the strongest prince consort in the history of our kingdom.”

The mention of the weak nobles that had ascended the throne in centuries past makes him snicker smugly. “I would agree,” he muses, amused like you. “They would not have been as tall as me, or as strong, or as good in bed—-”

“Choso!” you squealed, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it.

Grinning like a devil, he dodged with ease, catching your wrist and pulling you down onto the bed. Before you could protest, he wrestled himself on top of you, pinning your arms above your head and smothering you in kisses.

After his barrage was over, he turned solemn once more. “I’m serious,” he murmured, his tone softer, more sincere. His dark eyes searched yours, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’ll protect you, stand beside you, love you until my last breath. You’re my queen in every way that matters. And no matter what, I’ll never leave your side again.”

Your breath hitched, his words settling deep in your chest. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you smiled, warmth flooding your heart. “And I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was equal parts promise and devotion. It wasn’t hurried or frenzied, but slow, a tangible declaration of everything you both had endured to reach this moment. Here, in the quiet of your chamber, with his weight grounding you and his lips marking you as his, you found the only place you wanted to be—by his side, now and always.

general masterlist

a/n AHH HI POOKIES!! I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED MY FIRST CHOSO FIC?? let me know if i do him justice this was written with my pussy and me having a specific hyperfixation :3 anyways i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you guys did too :')

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

VENOMIZED?! t. fushiguro

❤︎ sum. your ex-fiancé needs a favor from you — just one more, he swears! apparently, he’s got some weird “parasite” that for some reason is very attracted to your sweet, sweet scent..

wc. 9.2k

warnings. fem! reader, venom! toji, modern au, pre-established relationship, pining, some spoilers + movie references, reader's a doctor (allegedly), unprotected, venom's dialogue is in bold, venom's tendrils, long tongues, brief bj's, manhandling, getting pounded silly in venom’s suit, choking, size kinks, L bombs, cunnīlingus, twice the stamina, marathons, fīngering, riding toji ‘till he cries, venom's kinda unserious, dīck slipping, cęrvix mentions, spitting on it, bręeding, squīrting, tummy bulges.

an. i’m ovulating and rewatched all three venom movies hear me OUT-

“pussy.”

“venom, man- please.”

“what.”

furrowing your brows, you stared at toji, the man who you were originally supposed to marry just six months ago. in the flesh, he stands tall behind the door of your office with a sheepish expression. he looks tired, ruffled hair buried underneath a sideways baseball cap while wearing some dingy sweats. “are you talking to yourself?”

“eheh- well,” toji gruffs, darting lime eyes toward your teal scrubs. he’s missed you. to think if he hadn’t been stupid enough to snoop through your life foundation files to expose confidential information regarding their private business practices. his silly little mistake ended up getting you both fired, but fate loved playing in your face because you almost forgot that you were still toji’s doctor at your other job. clearing his scratchy throat, toji sighs. “i’m dyin’ here, doc. need a checkup.”

“she smells good.”

“yeah, she does smell good.”

“what?” you eyed toji, wondering just who the hell he was even talking to.

toji looks at you, scratching behind his neck. “ah- sorry,” and you notice how he’s a lot veinier than usual. toji did a quick scan around the spacious, empty doctor’s office before he slightly tilted his head down. “long story short, sugar, i got a … parasite.”

“PARASITE!?”

“parasite?” you repeated with a deadpan, grabbing your clipboard near your desk.

oh for the love of . .

you thought you’d never see toji again. letting off a sigh of your own, you pat the cerulean-blue hospital bed. “sit.”

hoarsely scoffing, toji makes his way toward the bed before flopping on it with a loud ‘oof.’ scratching his head, he turns toward you as he sees you writing something down—probably information regarding his chart. “so… how ya been?”

“toji, let’s just make sure you’re alright.”

“fine, fine,” he grumbles, getting smacked face first with the thick tension swarming the air that could be cut with a knife.

there was obvious tension between the two of you, and toji was still head over heels in love with you. in fact—he’s never stopped, and he regrets every day choosing his career over his relationship.

if he could start over, hell - he would.

the two of you had plans and everything after getting married. settle down, maybe move out of san francisco, maybe even live near the countryside. you both even had a brief small talk about children too, but seeing you again just reminded him of how much he screwed up.

“what’s . . the problem, exactly? you said you have a what- parasite?”

your sweet tone snaps him out of his thoughts and his droopy, grassy eyes flick down to meet your gaze. “oh- uh, yeah. you’re the only person i thought of comin’ to. last doctor, i went to called me crazy and uh … called a swat team…. ha.”

“ooookay…” you curl a brow inward, hoping the last part was just another one of his unfunny jokes. “and does this ‘parasite’ make you talk to yourself or is that just toji being toji?”

“she’s sassy.”

toji rolls his eyes, disregarding venom’s instigating comments in his head before shrugging. “sometimes. he’s annoying.”

“he?”

“my uh- parasite. he hates being called ‘it.’ goes by venom ‘n everything,” toji explains, his hands still buried deep into the pockets of his cottony sweats. as you glance up to get a good look at him, he’s sweating bullets—all from the sides of his forehead too. “oh, ‘m fine. ‘s just a bit hot in here.”

“the a/c’s on.”

“oh..” toji murmurs, slouching a bit on the bed. to say he’s feeling hot is an understatement. it’s like the more he stared at you, the more he started to feel the unsteady beats of his heart pick up.

ba-dump after ba-dump after ba-dump! and he could even start to hear each pulse through his ears, traveling through his veins.

toji clenches his tense jaw as he tries to listen to you. you’re rambling a bunch of medical terminology about checking his vitals and blood pressure and he’s replying with uninterested head nods.

oh fuck.

venom’s getting excited.

it’s probably been about five months since the little ‘incident’ occurred where he ended up getting venom.

long story short—toji was snooping around the headquarters of the life foundation where he found actual test subjects. not animals, not insects but people. live, living, and breathing people, and before he could even think of pulling out his phone to record the things he saw - bam!

one of the test subjects—a girl, sneaks up from behind and attacks toji.

little did he know that a ‘parasite’ that was once inside her ended up slipping inside of him. the parasite is known as ‘venom.’ to sum it all up toji was a perfect match, the perfect host.

“toji, are you even listening to me?”

“yeah, toji. our wife’s talking to us.”

“shut up.” he grumbles, shaking his head.

“excuse me?”

“not you- ah, fuck,” toji takes off his ball cap, running a hand through his greasy darkened strands.

he’s been so kept in his thoughts that he didn’t feel you checking his vitals and blood pressure which was oddly higher than a usual human.

toji sits on the sheet-covered bed, the blood pressure cuff still wrapped ‘round his beefy bicep before he sighs deeply again. “i don’t.. wanna waste yer time. i doubt you’ll find what’s wrong, er- medically. it’s … hah- hard to explain.”

as you switched the sphygmomanometer off, you concluded with toji’s chart for now before thinking for a moment. “well, if it’s internal and is causing you to behave strangely, maybe an MRI will help-”

“NO.”

toji grows sheepish again. “heh- no, no.. MRI.”

“and why not?”

“sound… uh- sound hurts him. him and me.”

dropping your shoulders with impatience, you tap your foot with a grumble. “look, toji, i’m really trying here but i’m not sure how else i can help you. i don’t even know what this ‘parasite’ thing even is.”

“it’s.. better if i show ya.”

right at his words, your brows raised. show you?

at that moment—question marks were popping up all through your brain, and you were the epitome of confusion. toji sighed, sitting up straight before glancing down at you. “don’t get scared, alright? i won’t hurt’cha, promise.”

“um, okay..” you murmur, crossing your arms as your wrist bristles against your doctor identification badge. the anticipation’s nearly killing you, and you remain quiet as you try to study toji’s next move.

“alright-” toji inhales deeply, and right before your very eyes - he’s changing forms.

he’s still wearing sweats, but within seconds, his body’s starting to get covered with black. it looks like some sort of dark villain suit. he’s waaaay bigger now, and his face’s just halfway covered. as you raise your head, you’re met with the face. the slit, blinking eyes. there’s large, curving eyes that longly curl further up near the back of his head and the teeth-

half of toji’s mouth was now replaced with probably dozens of sharp, honed teeth and an obnoxiously long tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth.

what ….

the ….

fuck.

“pretty little girl.”

the voice sounded far different than toji’s. it’s more pitchy and low, it's screaming with smoky bass and it nearly makes you shudder. toji - or whoever that was, did a quick walk around you and you’re silently gulping.

it’s venom now, and the more he’s in your presence, the more he’s getting a louder smell of your signature sweet scent.

so this is the girl toji’s been whining about non-stop. interesting.

“i- um.. take it you’re the parasite?”

you heard an annoyed growl leave from his mouth before he replies, cocking its head.

“watch it, now. it’s venom, sweet thing.”

“venom, poison, toxin- whatever.” you rolled your eyes, your slight fear subsiding. toji told venom how you were sassy but you, you were intriguing. you didn’t seem the least bit scared and he liked that.

as you took in his massive appearance though, he was just so big, towering over toji entirely even with his head tilted down. venom’s very burly, and you could just see him drooling from his lips from your peripherals. in a tiny frail voice, you murmured. “where’s toji? is he-”

“still here, unfortunately. he’s my shitty host-”

right on cue, they swap back and toji’s back in his body. he rubs behind his neck, looking down at your cute appalled expression. “heh- see?”

“toji, what the hell did i just see.”

“i don’t know- but look, he’s a part of me now and he’s hell-bent on makin’ my life a livin’ hell for as long as i’m alive,” toji let off an exhale. “i didn’t . . just come here for a checkup though.”

your eyes meet his and toji’s demeanor turns more serious now - he’s starting to sweat again, and raven bangs that slit down his forehead nearly shield his eyes. “i- i missed you, sugar. seriously.”

“toji-”

“no, listen,” he grumbles, slowly closing the awkward distance between the two of you. the room grew dead quiet, and the only sounds that could be heard were from the outside of the hospital.

endless chatter and machines along with occasional beeps from the staticky hospital’s intercom. intently, you stare deep into his eyes and his hand softly goes on your cheek. toji’s patiently waiting - waiting for the moment for you to push his hand away, but you don’t.

instead, your body’s first response was to lean into his touch and you could see his eyes slowly widening as he continued to caress your cheek. he didn’t expect that.

“god, i- i’m so… horny-”

…..

“nice one. no wonder why you struggle to get laid.”

you blink thrice, staring at toji and oh- he’s starting to sweat even more. his eye seems to be twitching from venom’s insult and you’re wondering what’s going on through his brain - or who.

he’s not sitting on the bed anymore, he’s standing now, and again, toji towers over you completely.

if you squinted just enough, you’d see the dark bags indenting underneath his eyes. “you look .. really pretty today.”

“i’m wearing scrubs, toji.”

“idiot.”

toji grumbles, trying to disregard venom’s snarky side comments. “i know- i know, i just-” he pauses, his eyes trailing up and down your body. “wait- i think i know how you can help with my parasite.”

“how?”

“heh- do you uh- mind if we go back to your place? ‘m kinda starved-”

♡ ♡ ♡

“o- oh my.. god!” you’d squeal, yet another pretty primal ripping its way out of your throat. one minute, you’re having a heart-to-heart with your ex-fiancé and the next, his tongue’s swirlin’ left and right in between the cracks and crevices of your open thighs. you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t miss his tongue.

but fuck it.

you’re whimpering, swollen-glossed lips trembling as you’re hunched over your damn sofa. you’re bent over the arm of the couch as toji’s positioned behind you, using one hand to roughly grip the right cheek of your ass.

like always - he’s just nasty, sliding his tongue in and out of your syrupy cunt, savoring the candy-sweet taste. toji’s all in there—puckering his plump glossy lips as your hips refused to stay still on his tongue.

“hngh- sweeter than ever for me, pretty hah- mama,” toji groans, feeling you writhe again at the shuddering response your body gives him.

leisurely, his scarred lips tickle their way against the outer part of your pussy and you’re already fighting back fat tears. tears of straight pleasure, and he could hear those sweet ‘lil sobs getting caught in the back of your throat every time.

“fuck- dreamt ‘bout tastin’ you again for so long,” and as you’re continuing to fill the room with your repeated, wailing whimpers, toji brings a sticky, wet kiss to your labia that’s just constantly twitching. “mhm, i missed you too, wet girl.”

“ngh- toji,” a soft, gasping moan snatches away from your lungs as your thighs gradually grow shaky. you’re unstable—struggling desperately to cling onto the armrest of the sofa. toji’s tongue was just brutal - its pace was simply relentless, barely giving you any time to get out a single breath.

“fuck- fuuuuck,” and your chest dips inward, hearing that familiar slosh sound sob from between your legs. your tummy nearly does flips, cartwheels, and somersaults, feeling that thick, big stretch of one of toji’s fingers trying to insert its way inside you.

immediately, you’re clamping around him, presenting his stocky fat middle finger with your dripping, slick warmth. you heard a cooing, husky ‘ooooh’ rumble away from toji’s throat as he stared in awe.

“your fingers are sooo- fuck-” you’re cut off by his tongue that’s wetly slurping against your pussy. it’s so loud too, a carnal sound you’d probably never get used to.

toji’s a sloppy man - proud ‘n entirely unashamed, especially when it came to you.

his long, ravened lashes were closed the entire time whilst he was trying to barrel thick fingers inside of your drooling core. you’re just so wet, dampening his fingers within each overwhelming inch that sinks inside your pussy. “baby-” he breathily rasps, hearing the hurried huffs depart from your throat once he starts scissoring his digits inside of you. his fingertips were even bigger, and your toes were just pathetically curling up.

“toji, i want a taste too.”

toji grumbles, nearly forgetting about venom’s presence. already - you had a good portion of his chin dripping with your essence. as toji’s starting to create a decent, sloppy thrusting pace of his fingers, he spits on your clit.

“don’t be greedy. besides my tongue’s longer.”

“fine.” toji rolls his eyes, glancing at the glittery glob of spit that’s straightly cascading down the slit of your cunt.

venom did have a point though -

he could stretch it out to be several feet long. toji’s fingers continued to loudly thrust in and out of your sobbing, wet cunt before he nibbles against your nub. “mmch- sugar, can i try somethin’ with my tongue?”

“o.. okaay-” your voice cutely cracks, and you’re already starting to feel the irregular beats of your heart pick up at a much more frantic speed.

“hah- i’ll have ‘ta take my fingers out for it. might stretch you a bit,” and right as he says that you hear the drenched ‘pop’ sound splash away from between your trembly legs.

you’re damn near hysterical - temporarily pouting once you’re clenching around nothing but air once he pulls his fingers out.

down to his rounded, pointy knuckles — both fat fingers were glossed from top to bottom with streams of your gluey slick.

you heard a ‘whoosh’ from behind you, and your eyes slightly bulged once you felt a bit of drool splatter onto your back. you’re completely bare, and the only thing you currently had on was panties that toji lazily shoved to the side with his teeth earlier.

“bend.”

it’s venom’s voice this time, and the bass gruffly screaming in his tone had you already arching up. you whined, still feeling him shamelessly drooling on your bare backside.

you could hear him snarling quietly, hearing the slopping sound of his tongue rolling straight out of his hanging maw. curled, white eyes stare at your pretty pussy just on display, and venom’s tongue stretched out even farther.

“eyes… lungs… pancreas…” his venomous, deep voice bellows after each word that leaves his dropping, wet lips. the chiseled, sharp teeth that decorated the inside of venom’s mouth were just so shiny.

you felt yourself throbbing at every second he spent widely staring at your body, admiring your nude physique.

large, blinking eyes finally flicker down between your thighs and you moan once he hungrily licks his long tongue across his salivating lips. once he teasingly brings the tip of his tongue to lick between the wet crevice of your leg, you whimpered as he finished his sentence. “—pussy.”

“o- oh.. my goood-” you’d croak, eyes instantly rolling back once the slimy tip of his tongue slaps its way against your hole.

slooowly, it slithers its way down until it reaches your opening. it was so long, the tip already reaching near your navel within half a second. it’s just huuuge, longer than toji’s tongue by a mile. he’s just as ruthless too, dipping his way inside of your inviting cunt without muttering a single word.

you’re holding onto the edge of the couch for dear life, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as his tongue sloppily flops its way in and out of your throbbing pussy. venom’s a tease too, and every few seconds he’d purposely stretch the tip of his tongue even longer just to hear those pretty cries of yours pitch higher.

“uuugh.. s- so long, fuck-” you’d whine, gasping once you felt his flicking tongue occasionally slap against the sprawled arc of your thighs. unapologetically, venom creates a slimy, wet trail and he’s just straight-up licking you everywhere.

he’s not only licking your pussy, he’s gliding his tongue down your legs, around your legs, and of course -

he tends attention to his new favorite spot, your hole.

every time he’d lave the reddened, curly tip of his tongue at that particular spot - you’d let off the prettiest squeal. your eyes nearly popped out of their poor sockets as you’re left a stammering, babbling mess. messily, he swirls his extended tongue around your puckering hole before slithering it back down between the puffed folds of your pussy.

“ ‘m not.. hah- not gonna last, toji-”

venom scoffs, but he could feel toji trying to take over. as you remained awkwardly hunched over the fluffy armrest of your sofa, you just couldn’t get over how long venom’s tongue was.

just thinking about how many feet it was had you fluttering, and not just the kind of fluttering that occurs inside your stomach.

it’s wet, dripping everywhere down your legs as it continues to glissade up, down, ‘n around. you were impatiently spasming on his tongue the entire time as you were still arched over, chasing each incoming breath until your release decided to present itself.

venom’s tongue was widely thick too, and it just couldn’t help but roll its way against the bare left cheek of your ass. you’re practically gasping for air at this point, on the verge of collapsing from the length of his tongue before he delves it in wholly.

“fuck- fuuuuck-” you’d squeak, drool moistly seeping from each corner of your lips.

steamy, hot breath tickles against your thigh as his tongue continued to drag its way through your sloppy cunt. every smacking slosh that you heard from between your yelping legs only grew louder, and you’re just gnawing on the bars of your fuckin’ enclosure.

you’re starting to cutely crawl forward, at least you’re trying to, but you gasp—feeling one of venom’s long black tendrils curl its way around your torso.

“stay, girl.”

you’re moaning, eyes bulging wider once the tip of his tongue occasionally reaches near your pulsating g-spot. he’s so sloppy with it too, purposely diving his tongue at that same spot to make you cross-eyed.

your sweet melodic ‘ooooh’ ‘s only pitched higher, and as his tongue continued to thrust in and out of your throbbing cunt, you felt his tendril delicately caressing down your skin. “ ‘m gonna cummm-” you’d whine out, feeling the pathetic surrendering quake of your legs.

his tongue was just sooo vast ‘n wide - thickly stretching inside of your cunt before flicking the tip of his flat tongue all against your drenched, wet thighs.

within a blink of an eye, you hear a ‘swoof’ sound and toji ends up switching back to his original form. your kaleidoscope-like vision had you seeing bleary white splotches of pleasure. as each lively vein and axon located in your body gets harshly interrupted with a euphoric wave of elation, your high’s finally making its longly awaited appearance.

venom’s tongue which is now toji’s tongue shrinks a bit, and the entire time—you feel it all inside of you. pulse after pulse after pulse . .

the scar that slit down the right side of his lip smeared against your pussy as he takes one big sluuuuurp.

toji groans, grabbing ahold of your rickety thighs before snickering lowly. “c’mon, pretty girl. give it t ‘me. hah- ‘m so thirsty,” he murmurs against your folds, his lips wetly gluing together with the help of your slick cascading down his stubbled chin.

you’re just shaking - your jaw dropped with your toes cutely curled together. toji softly slides another finger inside you and this time, it's his index finger.

your lips spread wide - parting into a cute, surprised ‘o’ once you feel a brief cold band of what feels like a ring. it’s his engagement ring, and after all this time he still wore it.

“f- fuck, tojiiiii-” you’d sob out, furrowed brows contorting as he’s trying to slide in each thick inch of his digit.

you’re drooling, and not just from your mouth.

“never .. hngh- stopped lovin’ you, sweetheart,” toji grumbles, a smoky groan ripping out of his throat once he feels his dick twitching in his sweats.

toji’s hard too, and you could even hear him let off a soft raspy whine once he started to roll his hips against the cushioned couch. “fuuuck- gonna make me cum too, ugh-”

the wet silver band of his engagement ring tickles against the inside of your core, and as he repeatedly pistons his thick digit in and out of your pussy, he kept flicking his tongue at the same time.

you’re shivering, feeling your hips dramatically stutter before the coil buried deep in your fluttering tummy finally snaps.

“fu- fuck!” you’d squall out a pretty near battle cry, purring off little shaky ‘ah’ ‘s once you hear his final, repeating slurps.

toji’s free hand already snuck underneath his sweats, and he was angrily pumping his veiny cock that hid underneath his boxers.

the white stripes of his underwear had ‘lethal protector’ decorated around the upper strip of his boxers in bold white and purple — (venom’s idea of course)

as toji’s kiss-stung lips practically glued against your pulsating clit, he drinks all of your slick juices. the top row of his teeth playfully snags against your nub as his long, dark lashes flutter shut.

but as you’re creaming on his tongue, toji grunts loudly.

his bare shaft that’s hugged around his palm ends up releasing too from the tip, and he grumbles, feeling the inside of his stomach frantically tighten.

toji ends up cumming merely nanoseconds after you, and white splotches end up spraying over his stomach and on the burgundy cushion below you both.

“hah- fuck,” toji growls through honed, gritted teeth. he’s drenched with sweat, and he’s letting off guttural moans against your sweet cunt as his animalistic hips humped against the sofa. “made a fuckin’ mess outta me, pretty girl. just like . . ya always do-”

as you’re still getting over your own teeth-shatter release, you end up sitting up. toji brings his slick-covered ring finger towards his scarred lips, giving it a teasing ‘lil suck before humming in content. “my wife’s always had the sweetest taste.”

“ex-fiancée.” you corrected him, still feeling your thighs quake.

“oh, boo. same thing, sweetheart,” toji pants, and he saw how your eyes immediately dropped further down.

it starts near his chest. toji’s chest was puffed out, and fuck was he buff. his arms were oh-so swole, and your gaze was entirely stuck to his body as he started to take off his sweater.

after that - came his tank top.

it’s dingy, a dirty color of white and you could even see a few curly black strands of chest hair poke near the center part.

as you were openly gawking - you didn’t even realize you were crawling closer and closer toward him..

this probably wasn’t a good idea.

you’d probably regret this tomorrow.

but, again - fuck it.

one more last time with your ex-fiance couldn’t hurt that bad, right . . ?

“heh- come closer,” toji sits manspread, sprawling his beefy vein-covered arms over the edge of your sofa. “i don’t bite but venom might.”

“shut up-” you mumbled, and toji inhaled a sharp breath at the familiar feeling of your touch.

as always - you’re just so gentle, tenderly tender with one of your palms wrapping over his sensitive erect length. it’s like he grew the last time you saw him, and from all the tannish-pink sides, it was overwhelmed with veins.

prodding, lightning-shaped veins.

toji’s rounded tip was a pretty color of pink with splotches of glittery white where a few remnants of cum remained.

grunting—toji’s eyes briefly flap shut and you could see the core muscles in his stomach tightly flexing. a single vein throbs down the left side of his shaft as he feels your tongue flick against his frenulum.

speaking of - his poor, rosy-colored cockhead’s just tearing with glossy globules of pre-cum. you swirl your tongue around, hearing each low growling ‘o- oh fuck,’ leave from toji’s scarred lips.

if it was anything he missed more than you, it was your mouth. you always knew how to wrap your lips around his cock. ardently, toji bites his lip before he sees you reaching between your legs.

humming, he raises a brow as your hot throat starts to finally lower itself against his weighty cock. “mngh- poor baby. need a hand?”

“ ‘m fine,” you grumbled through full lips, almost remembering just how big toji’s dick really was.

seconds later and your lips were feeling tender just from the subtle gaping stretching it created. you’re letting off a symphony of muffled moans left and right as you’re trying to get his mushroomy tip to hit the roof of your mouth. as toji ogles at your bobbling head, he playfully pinches your nose.

“fuck- thaaat’s it, breathe.” he released the grip from your nostrils, hearing a faint noise of a gag.

he was just so thick, and your fingers weren’t helping your impatient fervor at all. you weren’t just throbbing anymore from between your legs you were twitching too.

a lustrous strand of saliva dribbles from the corner of your lips as you moan again - pretty, bleary eyes glancing back up at toji before you huff. with a sloppy, wet ‘pop!’ noise, your drooling lips left his veiny cock.

“hm?” toji lets out a smoky exhale, a wide palm still softly placed on top of your head. he sees the needy little pout gradually spreading against your face before he smears his fat tip against your lips. “impatient, wifey?”

“toji-” you grumbled, not even caring anymore. your body knew all too well what it wanted. “just fuck me.”

you wanted him - maybe even needed him.

toji knew what you wanted too, and god- you just wanted to wipe the smirk right off his face.

it’s like he could read you like a book. after saying just his name though—you let off another gasp once he suddenly lifts you.

“hah- well then. upsie’ fuckin daisey, girl. i gotcha.”

strenuous, hefty arms carry you as he’s stomping down your hallway. emerald-green eyes occasionally leer at the few hung paintings and wall decorations that are displayed on your wall.

of course, toji knew where your bedroom was because that’s exactly where he was taking you.

never before had your jaw dropped wider.

once toji’s aligning his blushing, plump tip against your already sobbing pussy you knew it was game over. toji had you in one of his favorite positions - prone bone.

almost like before, your face was down with your pretty, wriggling ass raised. a long, rectangular mirror was propped up in front of you and toji was just silently drinking in every lewd expression that contorted against your face.

his sweats - his boxers, everything seemed to disappear and all he wore was that same black suit with a carved ‘spider’ looking symbol on his chest.

“mhm- look at how wet she is for me, fuck-” toji grumbles, carnally admiring how your clit was just fluttering with a jumble of aroused pulses.

“you mean us.”

“us, right.” toji rolls his eyes at venom’s remark, forgetting how you couldn’t hear him at all.

you were just drenched, and as he ran a swollen thumb down your slivering slit, he hummed.

if he squinted just enough, your pussy would’ve easily resembled a flower - so so pretty.

toji groans, and you hear a bit of a faint whoosh sound.

right before your eyes as you’re arched over, you watched how he was now wearing all black. like from before — it was the suit, the suit whenever he transformed into venom but toji was still there.

ruffled, black strands nearly blocked both of his eyes before he damply smacks his mushroomy tip against your weeping cunt.

“ngh- toji, don’t tease me-”

“patience, sweetheart-” he grumbles through gritted teeth, and your lips part into an even wider ‘o’ once he’s sliding the head of his cock back and forth against your puffed folds.

your thighs were eagerly trembling - direly waiting for him to just go inside.

toji’s cock was so ridiculously fat - each slap against your pussy with just his tip alone had you dizzy. the minuscule, sizzling buds in your mouth made the entirety of your tongue water as you were just babbling those same whimpers.

“dunno who’s louder.” he licks his lips, still tasting remnants of your cloyingly sweet juices on his tongue. as he’s still toying with you, you moaned once you heard that familiar welcoming squeeelch.

toji’s starting to ease his way inside - already creating a huge, gaping stretch with just his tip alone.

the sweet ‘o- oh shit’ that pours from your syrupy lips was mere music to his ears. tenderly, a hand wraps around your throat from behind, making you look at yourself through the mirror.

his shadow alone, you saw it - venom’s eerily presence, his silhouette shadowing behind toji, and he was even bigger. you gulped, feeling your tummy take a few resists and turns as he’s still trying to make his way inside.

“make her arch more.”

toji brings a hand toward your back, gently pressing down to make you sit upright. he’s just so big, and your brows were already compressing and curling all from his thick size.

he was barely even a few inches in and yet it felt like he was stuffing you to the brim. unsteady, wobbly arms remained pierced into the cushioned mattress as you could just feel toji’s cunning grin from behind you.

“fuck- so fuckin’ big, tojiii-”

“nice ‘n big just for you, wifey,” he purrs, and you’re whimpering once he rubs the frigid band of his wedding ring against your pussy again. the sloshes started to grow more wet after each barreling stretch, and you’re just gasping for air at this point. “c’mon big girl, let's make it fit like old times. gimme that pretty biiiig stretch- fuck.”

toji’s halfway in when he groans, feeling your heart-shaped insides instinctively clench around him. it’s almost cute, and he’s leaning against your ass to where his weight’s just hovering on top of you. the same hand that was holding onto your throat softens its grip, and he gives you a teasing kiss on the side of your mouth.

as your neck raised a little, you tried to wiggle your hips. fuck, you tried something, anything so he could just move.

toji lowly chortles at your cute agitation before gifting the right cheek of your ass with a rude spank.

“ohhh, what’s all this? want me to move, yeah?”

“pleaseplease-”

your words were a soft-spoken mumble, and toji’s just about all the way in now. after he’s bottomed out, his cock stiffens inside of you as you tried to writhe against his hips.

your dripping cunt was still as loud as ever, squelching with numerous pretty sloshing sounds. kissing near the back of your neck, toji whispers hoarsely, “heh- shame, y’er pussy’s speakin’ up for you, pretty mama. but i need ‘ta hear you,” and you moaned, eyes nearly rolling back at the sheer warmth of toji’s chiseled frame laid flat against your flesh. “please what?”

“f- fuuuck me, toji. please- just fuck me.”

within every swallowing inch—you felt toji’s thick, heavy cock trying to squeeze itself in. you’re whimpering, staring ahead with bleary, lust-like eyes as he’s taking you from behind.

he’s so obnoxiously big, but from the inside, he was even bigger.

his sharpened pelvis presents one thrust to you - just a single, vigorous thrust and you feel like you are gonna break.

fall over like you were just some fragile, porcelain doll on the verge of shattering into smithereens. all because of his damn hips. “ugh-” toji grumbles, a small hiss leaving his lips at the sticky contact your sharply slapping ass makes against his lower half.

“i wanna taste her more.”

“knock y’erself out, pal.” toji huffs at another one of venom’s whines, sucking his teeth at how your insides just clamped around him.

your half-open eyes were just wandering everywhere with white flickering through your sockets as your mouth remained agape. the crown of his cock reaches a deep, deep, deep area, and the thing that made you whine was feeling venom’s long tongue.

again.

it’s slick ‘n sticky, slithering out of his dropped jaw as the wet tip licks down the path of your arched spine. he feels you shiver, and toji groans as he’s still ruthlessly pounding you into the creeping mattress. your mind still couldn’t wrap around how abnormally loooong venom’s tongue was, it was so long that he could curl it around your waist if he wanted.

“good .. girl.”

you couldn’t hear him—but you felt his presence, his eerie presence behind you as toji’s heavy weight leans riiiight up against your ass.

your slick was dripping down his cock as he was sloppily sliding his way in and out, each papping sound of thighs causing your ears to ring like bells. fuzzed cotton stuffs your ears as you’re even starting to drool yourself, clawing at the sheets as toji’s fucking you senseless.

“hah- such a pretty girl, that’s it- fuck-” he groans, biting his tongue once he’s met with the sticky sensation of your cunt noisily slapping back against his sharpened pelvis.

hit after hit after hit - and you could just about taste every beat of your heart. his hips were mean, just slamming into you after each filth of a millisecond.

delicately - toji’s thumb caresses the middle part of your throat before he makes you meet his dirty gaze in the mirror. “look,” he huskily purrs, slowing his thrusts down purposely to match your delayed, drawn-out pants.

you shuddered underneath him—moaning once you felt the tip of venom’s tongue snake its way around your trembling thighs. though bleary, droopy eyes and a tongue fully lolled out of your spit-glittery lips, you glanced at yourself in the mirror.

the image of yourself being rammed from behind by toji in his jet-black ‘venom’ whatever you'd call it suit would now constantly be etched in your brain.

as toji’s behind you, his other hand brings your waist up for a better angle. you whined, feeling a bit of his chest hair softly tickle against your spine as he grinds against your ass. he’s thick inside, molding your clammy insides after every primal, eye-rolling thrust.

“there she is, heyy sweetheart,” and his voice drops. it’s a low, guttural low with the right amount of breath that makes you shamefully throb. leaning in, toji playfully licks the side of your cheek before whispering airily. “what happened to all that attitude earlier, hm?”

“ngh, fuck you-” you moaned, gasping once you felt venom’s tendril crawl its way between your legs. it’s so slimy, creating glossy trails of wetness against your already wet thighs before it wraps around one of your legs.

“no, fuck you.” toji grumbles, creating an invisible trail of kisses down your neck.

“make me c- cum then.” you tried to talk back but you’re instantly silenced by the feeling of toji’s heavy, fat cock dipping near your g-spot.

the ridges of his cock that’s got more of a lean curve were enough to have you collapse right there. he’s hitting you good from the inside, massaging through your clingy walls as the two of you both grunt in carnal unison. “oh! fuuuck- fuck, right there, hngh-”

toji brings a hand over your mouth—a palm that muffles your reoccurring whines ‘n whimpers before he hits that same spot again..

he treats your cute ‘lil g-spot like a target, his accuracy is precise every single time. your legs quavered as he felt you twitching - so so close that your orgasm was just like the edge of your strawberry-colored tongue.

“yeah, right - fuuuckin’, there?” and even toji’s voice was starting to tremble.

he’s just about there too - the more he’s whacking his achingly, swollen tip against your tender spot the more he’s feeling his base start to grow more and more full.

you’re whimpering, the syrupy taste of your saliva pouring past the cracks of your lips whilst gluing against his palm. venom’s ravened tendrils remained curled around your thighs too, a tight enough grip to where the hold wouldn't loosen so easily.

“there, toji- pleaaaase,” you’re damn near begging now, sweet pretty pleads of mercy sliding from your lips as the bed groans in the background. he’s deep, massaging your walls as your pussy relaxed squelch after sobbing squelch.

toji’s tip was a blushing, hot red - and each time he pistons his hips, he delves his way even further against your pretty g-spot.

stringently, it prods prods prods until it just can’t anymore and you’re left with your jaw goofily hung open, agape and all as you’re staring at the cross-eyed expression that’s mirrored right in front of you.

your reflection was practically mocking you it seemed, and once you came on his cock again, you let out the most harmonic squeal.

“mhn- there we go, sugar. sloooow, hah- nice ‘n slow, fuck-” his voice pitches hoarsely as he’s gripping both of your swerving hips. as your back’s still laid flat against the plump sheets of your mattress—toji flops right against you.

he’s just close - so so close that you felt the smooth, latex-like material of his suit grind against your skin.

his abs - so naturally sharped and carved, every single row of his chiseled pecs rubbed against your sweat-glossed back and you’re just whimpering out those same pretty babbles for more more more..

with a black quirked brow, toji grunts in your ear whilst venom’s tendrils mindlessly wrap around your waist.

tenderly, his scarred, callused lift your hips just a bit more to get a deeper angle - and fuck, that’s when toji’s just about at his inevitable peak too.

“hngh- cum . . cum insiiide-” you whined, sheeny pouty lips of yours curving into a disappointed frown once you hear and feel the wet, sloppy pop. heavy, ragged breaths collided down your spine as you felt toji’s rough chest lay flat against your back.

his shaft slipped out of you, and you couldn’t help the small ‘lil moan that pried its way from your raw chords. you’re clenching around nothing now, and you even tried to sneak a hand down between your legs.

with a soft whack - you pull your hand back, feeling the brief millisecond feeling of venom’s tendril giving your impatient hand a tiny spank.

“silly little woman.”

“our wife’s always been impatient,” toji snickers lowly, wrapping his palm around his veiny, thick cock. he takes two deep breaths before plap after plap, and he’s just smacking his mushroomy tip against your slobbering cunt.

again.

“toji, tojiiiii-” you’d moan at the occasional tender stings from each playful hit. his tip’s so perfectly round ‘n plump, just gifting your pretty pussy with various hits. “breed me, fuuuck- don’t miss, pleaseplease-”

in his head, he’s counting each sloppy slap of his creamy tip tapping against your folds. he could just hear the sheer neediness in your voice, and that’s when toji starts to align himself again.

you’re throbbing ridiculously - muttering out faint, inaudible whimpers of ‘please’ and ‘fuck’ ‘s as he’s sliding his ruby-red crownhead up and down the drooling slope of your pussy.

“mhm, needy ‘lil thing. can’t go a second without throbbing,” toji groans, watching as your right thigh starts to twitch. as his ripped abdomen presses further into yours, he brings a wet kiss toward your left shoulder blade. “ ‘s that what you really want, sweetheart? for me to finish ins- oh, fuck.”

with a sharp, three-second hiss - toji feels his hips shudder. it’s a warning, a warning that he was about to erupt and fuck, you felt every prominent vein on his ramming cock pulse through your core.

vehemently, his rhythm turns from sprightly to sloppy within seconds and he’s raising your leg slightly. “ ‘m cumming, sugar. better.. hah- pussy better swallow it all like a good girl, ugh-”

with your squished chin resting on top of your arm, you stared at the lewd reflected image of yourself and toji through the mirror that hung across the two of you.

like a madman - he’s drilling into your very being with venom’s dark silhouette hovering over you both.

he’s reaching such deep, tender areas and you’re whimpering after each slapping thrust.

“toji- uuuh- toji, mgh-” you’d whimper, his hits against your ass with his pelvis being so vicious that you could almost taste it.

it’s so powerful - each direct hit that he flawlessly slams into with his cock has your cute, dilated pupils spiraling into permanent cartoony circles. with the help of venom, toji ends up stretching his dick just a few more inches inside of you, and your mouth drops.

his tip swirls its way around your gripping pussy before it’s finally coming to its risqué end.

you’re laid flat on your mattress as nothing but a tiny, inaudible gasp-like ‘fuck’ drags its way from your lips. toji’s cock that stretch stretch stretched just a little bit more ended up gifting the lower part of your tummy with a protruding bump.

he finishes in the rawest, lecherous manner, flooding every corner ‘n crevice of your gripping walls with syrupy, white cum. your thighs that glued together perfectly were greeted with a few welcoming dewdrops of toji’s slick mess. rough, callused fingertips ran ahold of your waist and you could feel him writhing behind you.

hooded, olive eyes zero down your body, and the natural sheet of sweat that decorated a path down your arched back.

god.

“heh- that’s my gi-”

“we aren’t finished,” you uttered, grabbing toji’s bulky shoulders and lightly shoving him on his back. with a surprised yet amused ‘uuf’ he lands as his half-opened eyes stare at the dripping, creamy mess streaming from between your legs. “lie back.”

venom, being toji’s conscious once more, snickers at your audacity as he watches the scene of you straddling his host.

“tojo buddy, if you won’t re-marry her, i will.”

“dude, i told you, it’s toji, and shut the hell u- fuuuck.”

♡ ♡ ♡

position after position after position and you gave toji an absolute run for his money. he didn’t expect at all for you to have as much stamina competing with him and venom combined. you even lost count of how many mind-boggling, eye-rolling, tear-jerking orgasms you’ve got snatched out of you. it’s probably been hours, and you and toji were merely both at your inevitable limits.

he’s stuffed you full with sooo many seconds and thirds and fourths and even fifths of sweltering cum that you felt like you were about to burst.

toji’s entirely milked out - or at least, he thinks he is, and now, you’re straddling him.

you’re straddling him, but from behind.

with lazy, droopy eyes, toji slides the tip of his tongue across the seam of his scarred lips as he watches you move. “mhm, gonna go reverse on me, yeah pretty girl?” he huffs, already feeling the slickly torrid mess stick against his thighs.

you’re reaaaal slow - a torturous type of slow that nearly does toji’s head in. he’s peering at your ass moving, but you’re not bouncing.

you’re not bouncing because he and you both knew that not only were you close again but he was too.

toji’s entire body felt hot, preparing lava. the humid, scorching temperature sizzles and arises after each bestial-like slam of your hips and he grunts. “god, y’er a… hah- little brat, arentcha.”

“aw, do you need a break, toji?”

“yes he does-” venom tried to chime in.

“no- no, i don’t,” toji breathes gruffly, beads and beads of sweat tearing down each side of his face. his hair’s all ruffled and unkempt, black strands nearly blocking his vision as his thick neck tosses itself back. “atta girl, ride it then. ride it like it’s fuckin’ yours, baby.”

slap one - and you moaned, hearing and feeling toji’s harsh palm swat against your right left ass cheek.

slap two - and you gasped, his hand smacking against the right.

and the third and final slap - it’s from venom, and one of his tendrils that sloppily slides from between your thighs noisily slaps against your already full, cum-dripping pussy.

toji’s jaw significantly tightens as he just watches in awe, silently gawking at the familiar sight he’s always loved seeing — his pretty ‘lil wife straddling him, he’s missed it, he’s missed you.

“fuck-” you held in a whine by giving the flat of your tongue a soft nibbles.

his cock from all girthy sides was just so fat, and the curve that stretches through your core every time you spring back down against his lap drives you both up the first street of insanity.

this reversing angle—it’s so intimate, and it’s always been one of toji’s weaknesses.

as you’re winding your hips ‘round in a hypnotic, perfect figure eight, venom’s just nagging all in toji’s ear.

the symbiote’s bored, and by the second he’s only getting more and more aroused. with a low grumble, toji told him to just wait then he’d get his turn. hopefully.

you almost did forget about the whole ‘parasite’ thing, but who were you to complain, let alone ask questions?

your legs sprawled nice and wide, and you’re nearly squatting as your cunt continued to swallow every inch of his cock. it’s so wide too, deeply prodding inside ‘till it reaches that pretty cervix of yours.

the curly, black hairs that stuck beneath toji’s slick-covered shaft tickled you, and you’re just panting continuously like a greyhound.

“sugar, fuck- bring those hips back to me like that, mhm. right there, right fuckin’ there . . please-”

please.

oh, he’s begging.

as you maintained a secure grip on his shaky knees with your hands, you heard the wanton tremor in toji’s voice.

by now, he’s reclined allll the way back against your plush pillows with his legs feeling like complete mush. fuck, you’ve probably rode him to death, because he could barely hold onto your hips anymore.

“toji… hah- cum with me, baby-” you mumbled, feeling his clammy fingertips slither down the sides of your waist.

like a wooden chair—you’re just rocking and rocking, not even minding the constant grunts and bellowing groans of your outdated boxspring that sits beneath your mattress.

it’s just so slick - your pussy, it’s sliding up ‘n down toji’s cock and he heard every clamoring, wet splat. he’s just almost mesmerized at how well you knew how to take him every time. his mouth’s as dry as it’s ever been, and you’re starting to feel that oh-so-familiar fluttering pool of butterflies stir in the lower pits of your tummy.

“heh, you called me baby-”

“shut up.”

“make m- ngh-”

blinking thrice, toji grunts once he feels your hand wrap around his neck. you’re still facing forward—riding him in reverse with your arm extended from behind you.

his neck was just so thick that you could barely bring all five fingers to squeeze his neck. “cute-” toji slyly titters, but his brattiness fatally comes to an end once he’s starting to feel his dick twitch.

his body - it’s rumbling, and your cunt’s pulsing increases after each slapping thrust. the stimulation always knew how to make your head spin, and for a second, it just felt like time indefinitely paused.

torrid, cloud breaths draw away straight from toji’s puffed-out chest and he groans. he’s riiight there, he’s right there and he could feel his creamy tip that’s messily poking around your insides trying to cling around your warmth.

as you’re just vigorously slapping your ass against his lap now, he’s left speechless.

“o- oh, oh sugar- your fuckin’ hips, yeahyeaaah-” and he’s whimpering now, long black lashes sticking together with what appears to be tears.

toji’s holding onto your rotating waist tightly, breathing through his nose as he hears each popping slosh of your cunt preparing to wring him dry for the nth time.

“toji, something’s about to-” you’d blurt, pausing mid-sentence, keeping both hands on his knees. toji’s tearing up at the sloppy, vicious strings of cum that threatens to depart from both pairs of slapping thighs that slap louder after each violent pound.

his dick’s all red ‘n swollen, from top to bottom as it’s covered with veins that paint the shriveling sides. your legs were about to give out at any second and so was his.

toji’s tip which was oh-so round ends up massaging your tightening walls perfectly, smothering your sensitive g-spot with a plethora of sweet french kisses.

“ah-” you squeal, your eyes widening as you’re coming to your end again. your throat - it feels so hot, so parched and you’re just gradually being led to your release. the adequate force of your brutal, tossing hips makes toji’s leafy irises reel further back.

glittery, wet lashes stick together piercing both pads of thumbprints into your ridden flesh — and oh, he’s cumming for what’s probably the umpteenth time now.

you both succumb to pleasure and you’re each hit with rippling waves and waves of swelling pleasure. finally, your legs end up collapsing and your jaw’s left goofily hanging.

you end up gushing, clenching internally as your labored breaths get tangled in your full lungs. it’s so wet, and as toji’s cock remained buried idly past the taut ring of your entrance, he’s pouring yet another milky wad of cum inside of you. it’s thick and smooth like honey, stickily melting inside of you like butter.

“mhm, f.. fuck-” you kissed your teeth, hearing toji’s heavy, defeated breaths exhale from behind you.

the air in the room felt so intoxicating - cloudy. as you sat still on his lap with his leaking cock still lodged inside of you, that same aroma of pure filth and intimacy smacks your nostrils right in the face.

its citrusy with a hint of sweetness, and your thighs couldn’t help but shudder above his.

“good girl, heh- think ya cured me just f- fine.” toji hoarsely murmurs, taking every few seconds to breathe.

two rough hands gingerly raise your hips, widely peering at the frothy, white ring that coats around his tan base. pearly, clear slick of your own mess stuck against your thighs as you let off muffled moans.

everything felt so tender - and in every millisecond that passed, you felt all ropes of toji’s cum plug you to the very fullest. “c’mere, girl-” he groggily murmured, and you gasped, feeling one of venom’s tendrils wrap around your waist.

with a swift movement — you’re pulled closer, breaking the distance between the two of you. toji smashes his scarred lips against yours, slipping off occasional husky whimpers in your mouth as he felt your fingers wrap around his flaccid cock. his whines pitch higher, and your thumb runs down a prodding vein that twitches from your touch.

it’s an intense, breath-snatching kiss that leaves you both gasping for air after each smack of departure from lips. as you moaned in his mouth, you could still taste remnants of your treacly arousal on his tongue.

“i love-” he whispers between kisses, and you slide out a whine once you feel venom’s tendrils swirl around your waist.

heartbeats pulsed rapidly, matching tempos of each other as your tongue disappeared inside toji’s mouth.he grunts, bringing his crimson kiss-bitten lips toward the crack of your jaw as your mouth remains agape.

“-you. s ‘much, f- fuck, you sure know how to milk me, sugar. reminds me of our . . hah- honeymoon.”

“just . . stop talking,” you roll your eyes—still feeling the after-effects of your body’s sensitive convulsions. you still felt so stuffed, still feeling the gooey remnants of cum trickle out of your dewy pussy. as toji’s eyes remained hooded and drooped, he flashes you that same smug grin. “i still- love you too-”

“there’s my girl,” toji huskily whispers against your lips, circling a thumb over the line that curves above the top of your mouth. you moaned, watching as he brought your hand up to his before kissing it -

repeatedly, before he brought your empty ring finger up toward his lips and kissed it. “mwah,” and you felt your pulse pick up before feeling toji’s broad arms pick you up. “up and at ‘em, wifey.”

but once you’re positioned to lay flat on your back, that’s when venom switches with toji again. you’re met with the same overly tall, massive ‘parasite’ with a dozen rows of whetted, white teeth.

venom slowly opens his jaw — showcasing his long, dripping pink tongue that dampens even more once he sees your filled pussy twitching solely at the sound of his venomous, deep voice.

all over his body, he’s covered with veins, and as your eyes trail ‘n trail way down, you land at his abs and stop just below his waistline.

your eyes widened as you felt hands softly grab your hips, and he brought one of his tendrils to make you face the other way.

a sultry-sounding moan escapes out of your raw throat as your face plants against your pillow.

“mmgh-” and you let off a surprised breathy gasp, feeling not one but a pair of two rockhard things slapping against the entrance of your bare cunt.

“toji- ngh, venom- i… is that-”

“now bend for me, sweet thing. my turn.”

their s/o is the dendro archon! (vol. 2)

pairings (separately!) - kaeya alberich, scaramouche, dainsleif x gender neutral reader

word count - 15,671

genre - fluff, angst with comfort, suggestive

format - hcs + blurbs

warnings - crying, yelling, slight gore and harm (wounds, blood mention), skinship, [insults, semi nudity (scara in his boxers and nothing sexual implied about it), reader is addressed as "lilium" (a codename) for half of scaramouche's, and wearing jewelry in scaramouche's], spoilers for kaeya and dain's backstories, suggestive lines and actions in kaeya's

summary - you just happen to be the dendro archon, no big deal to him, right?

a/n - woohoo!! volume two is here with my beloved <3, my beloved: the sequel <3, and my beloved: the ultimate triquel <3, (aka kaeya, scara, and dain LOL). hope you enjoy! (scara's is loooooong bc plot go brrr, just a fair warning!)

disclaimer - i literally know nothing about the dendro archon or how the dendro element works asides from the fact that it's susceptible to pyro PFBFBT- so this is my interpretation of what both the personality of the dendro archon, their powers and the dendro element itself could be like! (this was also made and written BEFORE the actual canon release of the dendro archon!)

VOLUME ONE | ALBEDO, XIAO, AND KAZUHA

kaeya assumed you were just like any other gardener he'd ever met with the exception that you sold some of the most beautiful flowers in all of teyvat

diplomats from nearby fontaine, liyue, and once even an emissary from inazuma have all stopped by the city of freedom to purchase your lush blooms

what initially got his attention was your kind nature and sweet gestures

no child would ever walk past you and not receive a special flower to don in their breastpocket or hair complete with a radiant smile from you

kaeya would often saunter up to your little trolley of flowers, eyeing the vibrant verdant vision that swung from your hips, and purchase a single blue rose

he'd then place it behind your ear, complete with his signature charming grin and a "you look good in blue, doll" before leaving with a skip in his step

naturally, he charms his way into your life and soon you find yourself donning the title of "the cavalry captain's lover", and it's a title you adore ever so much

kaeya is naturally observant, and while seeing you work with your vision he can't help but pick up on some of the oddities that occur when you're requested to appraise lands or help farmers with their crops

he's aware that the capabilities of a vision bearer are unique to each individual, but there's something odd about your ability to bring forth an entire field of flowers, or nourish a perished tree back to life with a single kiss to its trunk (he once even caught sight of you bringing an entire nursery of dead flowers back to life with a single wave of your hand)

his trust in you begins to waver, and you'll have to take the reigns back into your hands to let him know that you aren't trying to deceive him

of course, you may have your apprehensions given that he's told you of his origins, but it's worth taking the risk instead of being dishonest with him and losing him forever

(scenario + more utc!)

"kaeya, my darling," you gently cooed to the figure standing in the doorway of your bedroom, "come here, let me see your face."

for once, kaeya offered no rebuttal and obediently sat by your side at the edge of the bed. that easy smile on your lips never faltered despite the obvious conflicting emotions that swirled in his eyes.

"are you okay?" you slipped your hands into his and thumbed the back of his knuckles, voice barely above a whisper.

his laugh was laced with ice and lacked its usual charming mirth. "you tell me, dollface?" though a smile weaved itself onto his lips, his eye was devoid of any joy. your easy smile began to falter.

defeated, you sighed and pressed your lips against his cheek as a peace offering. "i'm no mind reader, but i understand what's bothering you. so please, let me explain."

a simple nod of his head gave you all the permission you needed. "i am...not who you think i am," you paused, tongue searching for the right words. you rose your hand and unfurled your fingers, revealing a tiny, delicate green item that looked similar to a chess piece. it thrummed with life and pulsed gently, glowing a gentle, fern green. tiny, white flowers climbed up the sides of the object and wrapped around its base.

his eye wasn't meeting you, blown open in shock he could only stare at the rotating gnosis that floated in your hand.

"i'm the dendro archon."

somehow those four words managed to explain it all: the seemingly omnipotent power and ridiculous strength you carried all while maintaining an air of eloquence. it made so much more sense. the air around you dropped in temperature, icy particles bit at your skin and for once that periwinkle eye bathed in light that you loved so much and the tingles of his signature laugh felt void of life.

"when were you going to tell me? or, perhaps you were just going to keep it a secret had i not been onto you?" a wry grin didn't suit that beautiful face of his, you thought.

"kaeya-"

you were cut off by maniacal laughter, devoid of humor or even the slightest bit of emotion. you almost didn't recognize the man in front of you, whose laugh felt empty and hollow. his visible eye lacked its usual charming glow, and instead an icy cavern took its place.

"to think- that i had finally come across a miracle, only for you to be an archon? fate truly despises me, when will celestia be done taunting me?" with an almost defeated smile, kaeya looked up towards the ceiling with a shaky sigh. you felt your heart break.

he stood up from the bed and held his head in his hands, threading his fingers through his once neatly combed locks. his chest heaved with strangled breaths as he recalled the one thing that his father had engraved into his minds: the gods are not to be trusted.

you refused to let him slip away like this, not with how his hands shook or how his breath began to labor with each intake of air despite the fragile smile of disbelief on his face. before he could turn to leave, you rushed from the bed and flung your arms around his torso, squeezing with all the strength you had.

no matter how hard he pried and tried to get you off of him, you held on for dear life.

"i tried...so hard to protect them, kaeya. khaenri'ah is- was a beautiful nation." between sputters of sobs, you clutched the fabric of his shirt and prayed that he'd hear you out. tears rolled down the valleys of your face, but you made no move to swipe them away. "but the other gods...they wouldn't listen to me. dendro isn't a powerful element, i heal not destroy. and i was consequently looked down upon," you paused to move your hands from his waist to cup his face, stained with crystal clear tears, "i promise you, i tried with everything i had to protect them. but it wasn't enough, and i let them all perish because i was too weak-"

you tried to explain further only to be cut off by the bubble of sobs that escaped your throat, remembering the bloodied faces of the scared khaenri'ahan children you'd failed to protect and the looks of horror upon the faces of each and every citizen of khaenri'ah, watching as the gods descended upon them with murderous intent and slayed their children and elderly.

his heart pinched in his chest as you fell apart in his hands. kaeya moved his arms to hold you up against him once you began to sway and allowed you to press your tear covered face into the crook of his neck.

"h-hey now easy there, calm down." he whispered, though his own hands were shaking with fervor. you clung to him with all that you had and hiccupped into his skin as he rubbed his hand up and down your back to soothe your cries.

much to his surprise, little yellow flowers on a thin, green vine began to bloom from your body: taking root in your hair, encircling your neck and wrists, wrapping themselves like thin, wiry snakes around your entire body. the vine had come up to where his hand lay on your back and gently wrapped itself around his index finger.

"are you doing this?" he pried your face away from his neck and held up his index finger with a weak smile.

you felt your face heat up with embarrassment quickly wavingyour fingers so the flowers that surrounded your body faded into nothing but shimmering particles. "s-sorry...when my emotions get out of control that just happens sometimes."

the little yellow flower on his finger remained intact however, and his observant eye scanned it over in great detail. "the common rue flower..." he recalled staring into albedo's "great big book of flowers" as klee has called it, and reading the description of the symbolism behind the little yellow flower. his heart clenched and pounded in his stomach as you stared up at him with wide, watery eyes, still fearful of rejection.

the give of his heart was strong and elastic and it was more malleable than ever as he drew you into his arms and squeezed your body against his, gripping onto the little yellow rue in his fist.

"i'm sorry, darling. i shouldn't have gotten mad at you like that. not when you tried to help." he finalized his words with a kiss to your wet cheek, only for you to vigorously shake your head.

"no, no, i'm sorry for not being honest with you from the beginning." kaeya chuckled faintly and pulled you away from his body, holding your chin between his index and thumb fingers.

"i suppose now i can check "seducing an archon" off the bucket list, huh?" the playful lilt of his voice had returned, and so had the gentleness in his eye. you missed him, but you said so with a kiss to his lips rather than with the words caught in your throat.

after your talk and reconciliation, kaeya feels like a weight's been lifted off his chest

you couldn't help but agree: he doesn't have to keep his lingering resentment for the gods under wraps now, and you don't have to hide the fact that you're an archon anymore

though you can't help but wish you had gotten to kaeya first before the tsaritsa did

he laments that his vision was of ice: cold, immovable, stagnant, and akin to death

whereas your vision bloomed with life and held the capacity to heal and birth new possibilities

it makes you wish you had given him a vision before the tsaritsa had, but alas

once you learned of how he received it, part of you was relieved to know that he had the power of cryo to protect him because archons knows that a dendro vision would hardly suffice against pyro

he often drunkenly mused over the irony of your relationship: a khaenri'ahan descendant mixing with an archon of all people

his ancestors must have been rolling in their graves at the news

kaeya often thinks about his homeland, and you let him in on the secret that not a second goes by where you aren't haunted by the looks of horror of the khaenri'ahan citizens, to which he responded with a tight hug and a promise to stay by your side for as long as he could

kaeya additionally becomes more interested in your powers and how your emotions affect them

you have a tendency to produce flowers that hold the meaning of your emotions when intense

and boy does he get a kick out of it when a loving remark or sultry gaze ends up with you covered in wine red roses and carnations imbued with what looked like starlight

of course, he'll make up for his teasing with tons of cuddles and kisses!

"darling? have you seen my scarf?" kaeya popped his head into the doorway of your shared bedroom, only to find you sitting at his work desk, fluffy scarf in hand. you caught his eye once he announced his presence and gave him your best smile.

"right here," you cheekily lifted up the scarf, "just adding some details to it, i hope that's okay."

"oho? details like?" he sauntered over and kissed the top of your head, leaning one arm on the rim of the chair as he tried to get a peek at your handiwork. unluckily for him, with a wave of your hand a leafy vine gently wrapped itself around his visible eye, blocking his view.

"aw c'mon, sweetheart, i thought we agreed on not using your vision on me!" he teased, raising a hand to peel away the thick leaf from his eye, but you caught his wrist before he could proceed any further.

"nuh uh, no peeping yet, mister." kaeya could only cede with a short laugh and kissed the knuckle that held his wrist.

with a few swishes of a sewing needle, you finally declared his scarf, "finished!"

with a snap of your fingers, the leafy vine dissolved into particles and his eye finally came to rest upon his signature fur scarf snug in your hands.

miniature, royal blue roses had been imbued into the fabric of the fur and sprinkled all the way down to the end. the fur itself had been combed and washed and felt like new in his hands. "darling, you did all this for me?" he couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face as he leaned down to capture your lips in his as thanks.

"nope, clearly i was about to wrap it up all nice and pretty and take it as a gift to master diluc." you stuck your tongue out and looped the scarf around his neck, pulling him down closer to sneak a breathless kiss against his lips that had him gripping the arm of the chair for stability.

"ha ha, very funny, sweetheart." the bass of his voice purred against the shell of your ear once he pulled away, followed by a complimentary kaeya-esque grin full of wolfish charm.

"oh! and look!" gleefully, you shrugged off your coat, revealing a shirt tinted pale blue that hugged your body. the shoulders were lined with the same miniature blue roses and gleamed in the early morning light as if it were weaved from stars.

"i made a shirt for myself, so we can match! what do you think?" you beamed as you stood up, making sure to show off the little blue roses that decorated the fabric.

kaeya took your hand, whistled behind a sugary smile, and spun you around once to get a good look before drawing you flush against his chest and bringing his lips down to hover over your ear to whisper, "lovely, and it'd look even lovelier if it were on the floor," you felt your cheeks grow warm and plunged your face into the crook of his neck. kaeya huffed, an amused glint in his eye, gripped your chin to pull you away from his shoulder, and punctuated his words with a heated kiss against your lips that had your knees buckling. the sultry lilt of his voice and hot fan of his breath was enough to have you weak in his arms, ravaged by his kisses.

preoccupied with the taste of your lips on his, he hadn't noticed the slight poke of a rose thorn against his forearms, mistaking it for your nails. it wasn't until it sunk into his flesh hard enough to draw blood that he pulled away from your mouth and gawked at the sight before him.

glazed over with pure adoration, your eyes bore into his soul and reached within the depths of his heart to draw forth the pulsating affection from deep within. your breaths were heavy and heated, making up for the lack of air he had taken away from you. but, more importantly, tangles of deep, wine red roses and ruby carnations had burst forth from your body and nestled themselves into your locks. thick, green vines that held the roses and carnations wrapped around your torso and arms, and had snaked up to kaeya's body. the thorny talons of the rose had dug into his arm and produced a thin, stream of blood that ran down his skin towards his wrist.

"well," he started with a chuckle and plucked one of the roses from your hair, "this is most interesting. roses and carnations, hm? i wasn't aware you were so charmed with me, dove." he maintained eye contact all while that silver tongue of his got to work licking a single stripe up the side of his forearm where the thin stream of blood had appeared.

you tried to find the right words to speak, but to no avail. still too flustered, you opted to hastily brush the flowers out of your hair and from around your body dissolving into nothing but particles, only for new ones to immediately take their place, blooming out of thin air. upon seeing your frustrated pout and eyes that burned with adoration and hints of embarrassment, kaeya took it upon himself to draw you in by your waist and brush the rose he had plucked from your hair against the line of your jaw.

"you, my darling, are absolutely irresistible. adorable." between the two adjectives, he punctuated a kiss on either side of your cheek before settling on your nose. his heart melted when your nose scrunched up cutely upon impact.

you groaned out of embarrassment into the skin of his neck, opting to hide your flushed face. the flowers in your hair and around your body thrummed with life and burst forth in greater numbers when kaeya decided to run his baked palms up your sides and press one more loving kiss to your lips.

"i still wanna see that shirt come off though, we got time."

"kaeya!"

the fact that you're the dendro archon changes very little about your relationship with kaeya

he might have been hostile upon first finding out, but he knows that you were never truly at fault for what happened to his people

and, consequently, what happened to him

you're (y/n) to him, just (y/n) who happens to be a dendro vision holder

and you're the (y/n) that he loves with all his heart and would do anything for

despite the fact that he's already won your heart over, he'll still stop by your flower cart, purchase a blue rose, and stick it behind your ear followed by a flurry of kisses to your cheek and one big, tight, kaeya-esque hug

if you ask him why he keeps doing it, "to show that you're mine," will be his answer

and the way that he treasures the embroidered fur scarf you gave him is enough to show that he wants other people to know who he belongs to as well

when news that the dendro archon had gone into hiding reached the ears of the tsaritsa, least to say she was mildly irate

if you can count mild as sending chunks of ice hurling through the large windows of zapolyarny palace, that is

but fear not! for her most resourceful (and possibly strongest) harbinger was at her service the moment she summoned for him

scaramouche, upon being given the task of retrieving the dendro archon's gnosis, wasn't thrilled to say the least

dendro was arguably among the weaker of the elements, he'd have no fun taking such a valuable item from a being who controlled such a fickle substance

yet, he wasn't one to disobey her majesty's orders, and set off for sumeru to investigate

thankfully, he had your aid to assist him

you were a wandering informant scaramouche had met once in a brothel near the borders of mondstat and fontaine when you had managed to stop a scuffle between some fatui agents under his control and the brothel manager with your words and calm attitude

scaramouche came to respect your courage and you, his strength

you introduced yourself under the codename lilium with a warm smile

there isn't much he knows about you, other than you sell information and travel the lands. that, and you wielded a dendro vision.

in exchange for information, you only asked that a single stem of a flower be given in return (though scaramouche doesn't particularly care for this rule of yours and scoffed upon first hearing it)

scaramouche is reluctant to head to you for information given that he'd rather adorn the position of a lone wolf, but he'd get nowhere by being stubborn

you didn't flinch in the slightest when scaramouche, draped in a black hooded cloak and void of his signature hat, threw a battered weed, roots and all, onto your corner table and slammed his palm down onto the wood. the rest of the patrons in the sumeren tavern minded their business, much to his pleasure.

"tell me all you know about the whereabouts of the dendro archon." he muttered in a low voice.

you hummed, took a delicate sip from your glass of wolfhook juice, and scooped the piece of grass (which looked like he'd uprooted it whole with his fist) to inspect it.

"my, my, i thought you had better manners than this, scaramouche?"

"i thought you sold information, lilium, not prissy little guides to table manners." he spat.

"...fair point. though, you'll have to do better than this," you pause to limply hold up the half dead weed in your hand with a wry smile, "what you ask of me is grave information, therefore i require similar payment."

toying with scaramouche was always fun to you, but there was something quite odd about his behavior.

"how is it possible that you're coming off as more irate than usual?" the question itself was innocent in nature if not for the coy, upward tilt of your lips and the curious glint in your eyes.

"oh please," he scoffed and snatched the weed from the table, leaving behind crumbs of dried dirt, "give me twenty minutes."

twenty minutes came and went with you swinging your legs back and forth and taking casual sips from your glass. suddenly, the wooden door to the tavern burst open and in stomped scaramouche, arms full of bright red roses and baby pink carnations (with the roots still intact somehow). dirt scattered all over when he tossed the flowers onto your table with an agitated sneer to compliment the gesture.

"will these weeds suffice?"

"ah, scaramouche, you really must treat these flowers with more respect." you tutted, fingertips glowing in dendro gently grazing over the flowers. their petals became lush with vibrant colors and the roots withered away into dust until in your hands you cradled the most luscious and vivacious flowers scaramouche had ever laid eyes upon.

"well, you've paid your price," your leg moved to push out the wooden chair on the opposite end of your circular table, head gesturing for scaramouche to take a seat, "it's only fair that i hold up my end of the deal as well."

scaramouche huffed and muttered a "it's about time" under his breath before sitting down on the hard wooden chair. his hands traveled upwards to pull back the charcoal cloth that covered his stormy colored locks, electric violet eyes trained dangerously on your calm and easy smile.

"what specifically do you wish to ask, o high and mighty balladeer?" you cooed much like a parent to their child, drawing indecipherable shapes into the dents and grooves of the wooden table with your pointer finger.

"are you deaf? fine, i'll repeat it since you can't seem to let information process in that smooth brain of yours." scaramouche sneered, arms crossed firmly over his broad chest, "i need to know all you know of the dendro archon's whereabouts."

you clasped your hands in delight, lips perched into a gentle smile, "ah yes! well, you're quite lucky as i'm proficient in all things sumeru and everything related to the dendro archon!"

twisting in your seat, you rummaged through a tattered, beige, cloth satchel that hung from the back of your chair and from within emerged a map. once you spread it thin on the table, scaramouche recognized the geography as that of sumeru.

"being the god of wisdom," you start, fingers carefully running over the printed valleys and bowls of sand that littered the sumeran landscape, "they are one to first analyze and evaluate a situation before making a decisive decision. it's not likely that they've abandoned their people by going into hiding, rather they are in a safe environment that allows them to monitor the situation from afar knowing that their region is next in the gnosis hunt."

"wow, thanks, i could've told you that myself." scaramouche rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to make another crude remark only for the soft of your palm to connect with his lips, effectively shushing him for the time being.

"please let me finish, balladeer," if you weren't his best source of information, he would have had your head on a stick from the moment you placed your skin on his.

"the dendro archon is the most reclusive of the archons, and yet they are the most gentle among them," your pursed your lips and took a tentative sip from your violet glass of wolfhook juice, "they have many secret temples that are most likely to be in similar locations: far enough from the wandering eyes of people yet close enough so that they are able to efficiently watch over and protect their people."

"if anything, this god of theirs sounds like a coward." scaramouche snorted.

"hm, you might be right—about the dendro archon being a coward," a faint, almost nostalgic smile crossed your lips as your fingers traced the sweltering edges of your crystal glass, "but they are known to care deeply for their people. i wouldn't imagine they would ever let waste be laid to them."

"whatever, mark the temples on the map so i can get this over with." from his hands, scaramouche tossed a thin pencil onto the map and watched with pointed eyes as you hid a smile behind your hand. "mind telling me what's got you laughing like a hyena?" he sneered, leaning forwards with an intimidating glare on his face.

"it's not that easy to access their temples, after all they were built with the intention of staying hidden in plain sight," your fingers tapped the side of your glass in a steady rhythm, your eyes never straying from his gaze, "however, i know of a way to narrow down which temple they're hiding in, and how to access them. ah ah ah," you interrupted to hold up a finger in front of scaramouche's lips, parted as if he were about to come back with another demand, "there are certain requirements to being able to locate the temples."

scaramouche pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, choosing to exhale loudly through his nose in a bull-like manner rather than blurt out a line of expletives at how cryptic you were being. "what, are you implying that i'm weaker than you? you do know who i am, don't you? what are these so called requirements anyway?!"

"first of all," your hand brushed aside the silk-like fabric of your cloak to reveal your gleaming dendro vision, "you must be able to wield dendro, second of all, you must already have prior knowledge of the layout of sumeru and the habits of the dendro archon themself."

"what are you trying to get at, lilium?" scaramouche leaned forward, forearms dug into the wood of the table and violet, thundering irises narrowed into both curious and apprehensive slits. wisps of his stormy locks fell to the front of his face and you resisted with all your might the urge to tuck them back safely behind his ears.

"my, i thought you were more perceptive than that, scaramouche," you giggled and extended your hand, palm up in an offering of sorts, "i would like to make an offer with you, if you'd be so inclined as to humor me that is."

"i've humored you thus far, get on with it."

"in exchange for guidance to the temples, i would like to travel with you on your mission."

scaramouche felt the familiar tug of a frown on his lips. lone wolfing things has always been his go-to, and you were no more than a pit stop on this languid roadtrip of his to steal the dendro gnosis like candy from a baby. but, with your skills, intellect, and knowledge of the area, at the very least you wouldn't be dead weight.

the back of his knuckles knocked aside your outstretched hand as he rose from the table, chair screeching backwards with his movement. he turned his head to side eye you one more time just before the hood fell back over his midnight locks.

"we leave at first light." was all he left you with, before briskly walking to the tavern doors and leaving without another word.

he's not exactly pleased that you'll be joining him for this trip

it's not like he wanted to be here in the first place

scaramouche seeks to battle to the best of his abilities and yearns to see others at his feet where he stands in victory

and the god of wisdom hardly seems like a formidable foe compared to the god of war or the god of contracts

but the job must be done, even if it's up to him

and getting the job done means sacrificing some of his comfort, enter: you

from the moment you first embark off to brave sumeru's stormy sands and pudgy grounds, he finds himself regretting taking you up on your offer

sure, you might know what you're doing and the dendro vision certainly helps in the dendro archon's land, but gods do you get sidetracked easily

he could be haggling a scholar for information, only to be dragged away by his arm with your eager voice recounting details of a nearby festival or an interesting food cart or shop that had caught your eye

of course, he's frustrated and grumpy about the whole ordeal but finds that when you are all business, you're most effective

so just this one time, he'll let your side tracked mind indulge in whatever catches your fancy (and perhaps begrudgingly dip into the funds of the fatui should you spot anything that catches your eye)

his fingers aggressively tapped against the edge of the wooden desk, brows furrowed and mouth twisted into a poisonous sneer that sat comfortably on his face.

"i'll ask you again, old geezer, what do you know of the dendro archon's temples?!"

the old book keeper behind the counter merely countered his crude behavior with a gentle smile, eyes blissfully shut and mouth stretched into a calm expression.

his patience was wearing as thin as the fine granules of sand that littered the landscape outside, face an angry scarlet and knuckles a ghastly white. this was the third time he'd inquired about information, to no avail.

"that's enough, scaramouche."

a soft hand enveloped his ghost white knuckles, skimmed and stretched thin from maintaining his anger. your gentle voice interrupted his frustration as he observed the manner in which your arm snuck around his bicep, hand still warming his own.

"good sir, we'd like to purchase information regarding the beloved god of wisdom's hidden temples. if you'd be so kind as to show us the best materials regarding that topic, we'd be much obliged." unlike scaramouche's unagreeable and demanding behavior, your voice felt of the faint trickle of a gentle stream or clouded mist that rose from the dewy ground in the early mornings of spring.

the book keeper finally responded to your request, excusing himself before disappearing into the back.

"get off of me-!" scaramouche sneered and shoved your arms away from his body just as the book keeper disappeared from sight.

you merely giggled and fixed his misaligned hat. "balladeer, you must have kindness and formality when conversing with the residents of sumeru. they value proper behavior just as they do intelligence."

"then you do all the talking, i don't have time for such mediocrities nor do i care what the sumerans value." he huffed and folded his arms across his chest defensively like an iron shield or a thick wall, blocking off the core of his heart and innards from your prying gaze.

the book keeper returned with some scrolls and politely discussed the price with you. with numbers in the millions, you needed to say nothing when scaramouche placed a large satchel of mora on the desk and scooped up the scrolls into his satchel.

as you exited the book shop, your ears caught wind of faint music and the distant sounds of cheering and laughing that overcame the chatter and clutter of noise from the sumeran street market. the sweet, sugary sounds of joy and celebration lay just over the horizon of the many houses and buildings that lined the sand covered street.

"scaramouche, come this way! i think there's a festival happening!" you grinned as your hand found his and pulled him towards the noise.

scaramouche halted at your words and sneered, "and what? we have a job to do, have you forgotten?"

"surely you can spare a minute, can't you? i promise it'll be quick, just a glance!" scaramouche couldn't help but be entranced by the way your eyes silently pleaded with him, going as far as to offer up the core of their sparkling bits that had him reluctantly nodding, even against his will.

scaramouche was not one to partake in silly little festivals, and yet here he was, watching as you ran around eagerly from stall to stall. the festival had been set up in a village square of sorts: colorful banners draped from all corners and settled at the middle, stalls line the circular edges of the square, and in the middle danced people of all ages, from the tiniest of children to the eldest of couples. music hummed happily from a nearby groups of musicians who eagerly eyed anyone that dropped a tip in their cup.

"isn't this wonderful?" you beamed and looked around in awe, eyeing each stall with hungry eyes.

"very, now can we leave?" he wanted to groan as you ran off towards a jewelry stall.

"lilium." he hissed, urgency laced in his voice as you held up a shining necklace with a verdant pendant similar in color to the dendro vision on your hip. the chain glimmered in the high noon sunlight, the silver bounding off of the metal and reflecting painted constellations over the span of your face.

"yes, yes, just a second. can't i take a look at jewelry in peace?" you giggled and ran your thumb over the neat, diamond shaped cut of the green gem, "this is absolutely stunning, how much?"

"five million mora." the burly man behind the stall answered, puffing airy smoke from the pipe nestled snugly at the corner of his lips.

before you could open your mouth to gawk at the price, scaramouche decided to answer for you, "whatever, we'll take it." he scowled and tossed a hefty bag of mora at the stall keep, who eagerly looked inside with hungry eyes before nodding at the pair of you.

"thank you for the gift, scaramouche!" your hands fiddled with the necklace in an eager attempt to put it on as you faded further away from the stall. your fingers struggled to clip the clasp in place, either going too far or clasping too soon.

"tch, come here." you felt yourself be yanked by the back of your collar and the necklace, ripped from your hands, as scaramouche's deft fingers worked to secure the clasp in place. his cold fingers sent shivers down the line of your spine as the pendant jostled around your chest, then finally sat still against your hammering heart as his body moved away from yours.

"happy? let's go now."

his shoulder brushed past yours and his hand moved to tip his hat down so you wouldn't bear witness to the glowing blush that adorned his cheeks.

your travels together are unprecedented in his mind but as time goes on, he begins to feel less and less hostile to the idea

you're a radiant light to his thunderous storm: the eye of his hurricane perhaps

you fill in the gaps where he is not complete: from your gentle nature to your vast and expansive intelligence, he's been struck in awe

scaramouche now realizes that he could have never navigated sumeru without your help (but it's not like he'd ever admit it)

hours are spent mulling over the locations of the dendro archon's temples only for him to come up short

which is where you'd come in and use that big brain of yours to fill in the gaps with all you knew of the dendro archon

he's not sure when the binds around his heart began to come undone, perhaps it was when he bought that beautiful necklace for you

ever since then, he's found himself at a loss

the simplest of your smiles or the lightest of your touches would make his ears burn a fierce ruby red

he's known you for so long as simply "lilium", who appears to know all and always has the right information for him

but now he begrudgingly begins to wonder what lies under your codename; just who are you?

and why are you making him feel this way?

flames quietly crackled above the drying air; dancing embers flung from the base and gently pranced across the sandy, dirt ground before fading into nothing. the makeshift camp he'd set up right outside the city would suffice for now until daylight broke over the horizon.

scaramouche leaned his back against the base of the large tree trunk, hat cast aside and arms folded while his electric irises traced the lands for any sign of danger. though, if he counted the way your eyes skimmed over the faded, scholarly journals you'd purchased in a small town earlier that day, the faint flicker of rouge and persimmon flames in the core of your eyes, and the soft shadows that danced over your face, he'd consider himself in danger.

"lilium," he called to you, voice uncharacteristically calm and devoid of it's usual haughty nature and bitter tone, "what is that?"

your ruddy eyes rose from the words of the book and a gentle smile crossed your face, "would you like to see?"

the unfamiliar sensation of butterflies instead of the usual crawls of insects and worms in his stomach had him wanting to throw up today's lunch as you rose from your seat on the ground and scooted beside him, leaning your back against the harsh bark of the tree.

"it's an old sumeran fables book. i know it's not exactly contributive to our mission but..." your thumb rubbed the faded cover affectionately as a small smile graced your lips.

"it's fine, buy whatever you want."

scaramouche's hands still folded themselves over his chest, head turned to the side.

"speaking of buying things," you reached into your nearby satchel and rummaged around the contents before emerging with a pair of crystal-like earrings in hand, "i bought this for you!"

the pair of earrings you held were golden and shaped like a sharp, thin diamond. a striking, dark violet crystal, similar in color to that of a stormy sky or muted lightning, was encased with gold and dangled from a thin clasp.

instead of handing both pairs to him, your hands unclasped one and punctured it through your ear. "one side is for me, and the other is for you!" the earring shook with your movements, glimmering in the fleeting and flickering embers of the fireplace.

scaramouche stared at the earring in his hand. it felt hefty and of good quality, and shone with ludicrous beauty. and yet despite this, "ridiculous, i would never wear this." he sneered and tossed the matching jewel back at you.

if he had a heart, he was sure it had long since turned to ice. but upon the slight crestfallen look that melted the glimmering smile on your face, he felt the icy caverns in his heart begin to stir and jostle with movement and life. "i see, but it'll be here if you change your mind."

"sorry" was not a word in his vocabulary, so instead he said nothing nor inched further away from your body when you succumbed to the warm embrace of sleep and rested your head against the closest thing to you: his shoulder. whereas most would have lost their heads should they ever lay a finger on the balladeer, you were an odd exception.

by the time you wake up the next morning, you're lying on the floor, a blanket over your shoulders, with no recollection of how you fell asleep. scaramouche is hoisting his travel bag over his shoulders, and the bits of sun that peeped out from over the horizon gently illuminated the shining gem that hung from his ear.

"let's move."

after weeks of trying to root out the dendro archon's hiding place, you finally manage to narrow it down to a temple surrounded by thick, lush, exotic plants and a glimmering waterfall

"it's surrounded by dense rainforest yet from its most highest point can easily observe sumeru's main city." had been your reasoning

scaramouche recalls his thoughts of the trip going smoothly and easily: like stealing candy from an archon, or a gnosis from a baby...?

but he's become very aware that without your help, he'd be stuck going in circles

you realize that scaramouche has grown over the course of this trip: he's kinder to strangers (in his own...unique way) and seems to be less quick to lose him temper

you've observed with careful eyes, the manner in which he interacts with the world around him and have concluded that there lies a kind and sweet individual underneath his layer of scum and dirt

and the dangle of the matching earring on his ear was enough to make your heart swell with happiness

scaramouche's heart was swelling for another reason

never before has he been in the presence of someone so pure of heart and willing to trust him: to see beyond his physical boundaries and peep into the soul he so defensively guards

and it's because of your actions and words and kindness that he finds himself at a loss for labelling this odd emotion that leaves him awake at night, taking diligent watch over camp to protect your peaceful sleep, or the frequent brushes of his fingers against the cool touch of the gem from his ear

it didn't help his battering heart that you looked absolutely ethereal while using your powers

dendro was an element he considered the weakest until you formed thick vines and towering trees that crushes enemies faster than he could draw out his catalyst and begin attacking

your hands skimmed over the vast expanse of his skin and healed his gashes with the gentle light of dendro, and never before had he come that close to falling asleep in such a vulnerable position

you truly were the most honest being he's ever encountered

but the truth is often a more daunting and treacherous path that one can ever expect

a symbol mocked scaramouche as a lock to the temple. just as he was about to burst into a vast array of colorful expletives, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and walked past towards the seal. flowing, green energy pool from your fingers and made contact with the seal, which reacted to your powers. an internal mechanism roared to life and soon the doors had opened wide. scaramouche look on in disbelief as you sauntered inwards with a teasing smile on your face.

the inside of the temple is vast and large. a wide, white marble floor covers the majority of the insides, and from the four corners emerged mini waterfalls. a dam lined the edges of the marble floors, where at the end lay a humble throne constructed of rock and covered in thick vines that held little flowers of varying pale colors. marble pillars loomed high above where vines creeped down and engulfed them in a spiral. light poured in from the crystal glass panes above, illuminating the marble floors in a gentle, pale yellow.

his shoes clicked against the clean marble, eyes wide and wandering in awe. but even among his fascination, there still lay frustration. you followed behind him, unusually quiet and devoid of your usual smile.

"the dendro archon isn't here." he scowled and sulkily walked up to the throne, kicking it with the toe of his boot. "all this work, and for what, a disappointment?!" he kicked the seat again, harder this time.

"SHOW YOURSELF YOU GOD DAMN COWARD!" his voice bounced off the empty walls of the temple, fists balled and knuckles white at his side. after all this time and effort, to not find the dendro archon was an absolute bash to his ego and will.

"let's go, lilium." he grunts and turns around to face you.

you who had continued to smile at him with eyes that seemed to know more than he did. eyes that carried within them ancient words lost to time and stars that could no longer been seen across the sky of teyvat.

"scaramouche..." your steps are quiet, tentative, like a cornered animal that has long evaded capture from its stalky predator.

as you walked forwards, your hands unbuttoned the clasp of your beige cloak and revealed to him the lines of dendro that ran up your neck and arms. your fingers contorted into an odd position, almost as if in prayer, as dendro energy began to swirl around you and pour itself back into your chest. thick branches sprouted from your temples and curved backwards to form horns decorated with little multicolored flowers. light illuminated from all directions and poured itself back into your body, while all scaramouche could do was stand there and watch, knees bent and hand ready to draw his weapon. his eyes burned as the air around you settled and a vibrant green ring locked itself onto your irises.

"i am (y/n), seventh archon of teyvat," click, click, with each step you took towards him, scaramouche stepped back, "god of wisdom, defender of sumeru," click, click, scaramouche could hardly believe his eyes, even though the evidence was clear as day in front of him: living, breathing, speaking to him,

"the dendro archon."

confusion turned into blind rage as scaramouche threw his satchel aside and lunged at you, catalyst floating hurriedly behind him. you allowed him to tackle you to the floor, and made no complaint when his large hand pinned your wrists over your head. his hat flew wildly to the side, lost to the air in the sudden scuffle.

"you lied to me." he seethed, voice barely above a whisper and tinted with what you considered unbridled rage as he towered over your. the earring that matched yours dangled ferociously and you feared that it may come flying off.

"i had to." you replied, still smiling with content in your eyes.

"you've made a fool out of yourself by lying to me." like the eerie rumble of thunder before the strike of lightning, his voice rumbled low and heavy and dripped with contempt.

his heart fought against the mere thought of what he'd have to do now: strip you of your gnosis and godly powers. but how could he when all he yearned to do was hear you laugh again or see your pretty smile in a situation where he didn't have your wrists pinned to the floor and wasn't agonizingly angry with you.

"defeat me in a fair challenge, and my gnosis is yours. you have my word, scaramouche." you offer interrupted any more of his raging thoughts.

"you?" scaramouche scoffed and masked his emotions with a decisively wicked laugh that sounded more akin to a huff, "you don't stand a chance against me." the grip on your wrists tightened and pressed your skin into the marble floor.

"then you should have no objections." you offered him one last smile before your body dissolved into tiny, multicolored wildflowers and sparks of green dendro energy. scaramouche fell forwards, the balance he'd kept while holding your body and wrists down now lost.

"what-"

"you've really underestimated me, scaramouche." your voice echoed from the other side of the temple, vines forming around your arms.

despite the screams in his heart to set his catalyst down and run far, far away from all of this, he knew of his obligations, and lunged forward with a surge of electro in his veins.

what he hadn't expected was to be pummeled upwards by a thick tree trunk that protruded from the ground. the impact wasn't hard enough to draw blood but it was enough to distract him while you planned your next move, summoning your weapon and drawing it at the ready.

scaramouche leapt down from the platform and formed a sword of electricity with his hands. he rushed forward and slammed the blade with all his might against your weapon, only to be pushed back with both your strength and the help of the flexible tree branches and vines that protruded from your back.

dendro was supposed to be weak and flimsy like those stupid flowers you always ask him to bring you in exchange for information, so why was it that his breath evaded him with every gulp of air he swallowed while trying to evade your thorny attacks? your long range attacks seemed to be more powerful, but even as he closed the distance, the look in your eyes was unbearable for him to gaze into.

"scaramouche..." you mumbled, brows furrowed and voice tinted with hint of remorse as your weapon pressed against his electro sword, fighting against his strength with seemingly no effort at all. one of your hands moved to tuck strands of his stormy hair back into place behind his ear, and his corded temper snapped in two.

you sensed the buildup of his energy right before it released, and scaramouche swore he saw the faintest of smiles cross your lips before you were knocked back by an enormous surge of electro from his hands that burst outwards in tandem with the blast of electro. purple jets of energy poured out from his outstretched hands, still tingling with adrenaline. your body flew across the temple like a ragdoll and hit one of the many marble pillars, sending you crumbling to the floor in a coughing heap.

"it's over." scaramouche's strides over to your weakened body were cold, devoid of life in each click of his heel against the marble floor until his body loomed high over yours, sword brimming with electricity pointed dead at the base of your throat.

he expected you to cower in fear, beg for your life until you were within an inch of death. instead, you merely smiled and closed your eyes.

"go on, finish the job. you've won fair and square." your hands overlapped his sheet white knuckles, cold from gripping onto the handle with all his strength, and began to push the sword down towards your throat.

panic surged through his veins once your intentions became clear. "just what are you trying to get at?! do you want to die?!" with your weakened body, strength didn't come to your hands when scaramouche yanked the sword away from your grip. the tip of the blade rested snugly over your hammering heart and flickered every so often with a lick of violet electricity that sent tingles throughout your body.

scaramouche had slain hundreds—thousands maybe, but the hands that have snuffed the life out of so many now gripped his sword not with fury but with hesitance. fear was void in your eyes; all he saw was a being who was content, calm, and seemed to embrace death with welcome arms.

"come on, scara. it's alright, i promise." you cooed, arms outstretched like a macabre invitation.

"scara" was new, you'd never called him that before and it made his heart hurt in a way he never thought possible, like running a paper cut under frigid water or biting the inside of your cheek too hard: stinging and small yet unbearable.

you hadn't removed the earring he shared with you, it still clasped itself onto the soft, fleshy part of your earlobe and twinkled up at him in the dwindling sunlight. the slight jostle of his head brought to attention the matching jewel that swayed by his jugular, all the familiar yet foreign emotions he'd felt over the past few weeks rushed him like a bull who saw crimson. the soft underbelly of this thoughts had finally given way and he knew now that his hands could kill a thousand more, but never lay a hand on you.

the sword dissipated into thin particles of mauve electric light just as he crumpled to his knees in front of your body.

"i can't." he meekly whispered, fingers grasping at his knees for some semblance of stability.

he considered himself above others, but you alone had somehow managed to bring him to his knees and set aside his weapon, even if his mission would be failed and he'd face the wrath of the tsaritsa.

what sounded like a pleased hum purred from the top of your throat before you rose from the ground and extended a hand towards him. scaramouche's head whipped up, clearly stunned at your ability to move after baring what looked like such a painful impact.

"congratulations, scaramouche, you've passed!" you beamed as he slipped his hand into yours and stood back up, a quizzical look on his face.

"...passed? what the hell are you talking about?!" he scowled and attempted to sever the connection you'd made between his hand and yours, only for your grip to tighten and your other hand to find purchase on the line of his slackened jaw, moving upwards to his cheek.

"i mean that you've passed the test to receive my gnosis, silly."

you bit back the smile from your face as you watched scaramouche seemingly run through all sorts of confuzzled expressions before settling with an irritated sneer and flared eyes that guarded him like a cornered animal.

"test?! are you kidding me- what in the hell kind of test was that?!" he growled and used his free hand to bunch up the fabric of your collar in his white knuckled fist.

a sugary laugh crept up past your lips as the hand that held his let go and moved to overlap his fist.

"well? get talking!" he ushered, slackening his fingers on the collar of your attire.

"yes, yes, o high and mighty balladeer." like a blue bird's chirp you cooed to him and straightened out the fabric of your shirt with calm movements.

he opened his mouth to make a retort at your choice of title for him when you beat him to the punch and words that you had since swallowed began to slip from your tongue.

"my ties to celestia have long since been severed," you paused to unfurl your hand and reveal the floating gnosis covered in little white flowers and tiny vines, "the gnosis is only an empty vessel—a meaningless connection to a place i no longer associate with."

"if it's so meaningless, you could've just coughed it up and avoided this whole mess. idiot." the last word he muttered under his breath, yet it rang in your ears crystal clear like the crisp smell of firewood.

"i'm aware," you giggle and step closer to him, "but there was a purpose for our adventure."

scaramouche studied the rotating chess piece in your palm, pristine and light in color—if he listened carefully he'd hear the soft chirps of birds and the twinkle of morning dew after a night's shower of rain; the atmosphere began to placate the burning irritation in his chest.

"my disciples caught wind that you'd be the one sent for my gnosis, and i had a feeling that you'd come seek my guidance even if it was to your chagrin." there was no helping to conceal the teasing lilt to your songbird voice, which of course fanned the flames of his sneer and had him crossing his arms.

"i was completely alright with giving up my gnosis, however, i wanted to make sure that it would fall into the right hands which is why i tagged along: to see and study your behavior."

you were far too close for comfort, and there was only so much space between scaramouche and the marble pillar as you backed him up into it and reached for his hands. his mind screamed at him to end it now and run far away from whatever hellish game you'd created, but his heart allowed you to pick up his calloused hands within yours and run your thumbs over the back of his knuckles.

"and after careful examination, i've deemed you and all you stand for worthy of my gnosis, scaramouche."

your hands released his as you dared to brave his stormy exterior and relish in the softness of his face as you cupped his jaw between both of your hands. his arms stood rigid by his side, unsure of which way to move or how to hold you.

"how..." he dryly swallowed before continuing, "why...me?"

"well, that's an easy question to answer. it's because you're a kind soul at heart. i know that no harm will come to my people, or anyone else if my gnosis is left in your hands."

from the look in his eyes, deep within the caverns of his stormy irises and inky pupils, you sensed a pool of doubt and a coating of mistrust. the jingle of the ornaments on his ornate hat twinkled gently as he turned his face to the side, ears burning and mouth etched into a warbled grimace.

"look at me, scaramouche," you tilt his head back towards you, a mirage of stardust and midnight blue flames peering back at you hidden behind the thin layer of his stinging eyes, "you could have killed me, but you spared my life. there is good in you, and there always will be."

"you're wrong, lili- (y/n)! i could kill you where you stand right this minute!" he barked, shying away from your touch in a brutish manner as he walked a short distance away from you, still close enough to touch but far away enough so his face could be hidden behind the thick brim of his hat.

"i'm not wrong, you forget my title of the god of wisom." you chortled, no louder than a gentle rush of wind.

with gentle, lilypad steps, you made your way to his side and raised his head once more with your hands so you started directly into his eyes. the firey, red blush on his face ran to the expanse of his nose and cheeks and tailed off near the tips of his ears; he looked akin to a dewy strawberry or ripe cherry.

the glowing gnosis appeared once more as you unfurled your hand, the other moving to grab scaramouche's palm and hold it wide open. the gnosis thrummed with life for a brief moment before falling silent as your fingers let go of the small chess piece and let it fall onto the calloused, fleshy skin of scaramouche's palm. your fingers gently covered his own and curled them inwards so the gnosis was completely concealed by his skin.

"go," you whispered, moving your hand back upwards to his cheek to caress the soft skin and brush aside the wild wisps of his inky, midnight hair, "go home to your tsaritsa. tell her you've succeeded, but not of how you obtained the gnosis."

you've managed to startle scaramouche enough today to the point where he'd welcome unconsciousness with open arms. but the manner in which you hold his face and press a gentle kiss to his forehead sends a flurry of emotions barreling up from his heart towards his brain. frozen in place, he could only watch as you stepped back and offered him one more smile before turning around and heading to pick up your discarded cloak in the middle of the temple. your figure grew smaller and smaller the more he stood, mouth agape and palms sweaty. the fist that contained your gnosis felt so warm and soft, like the gentle pitter of rain in spring or the brush of a lukewarm petal on a hot summer's day—so much like you. his mind no longer screamed at him to shove those damning thoughts of you into a corner.

with every hurried step he took, the binds around his heart became undone and left nothing but a shriveled up empty core that pounded and swelled with life. his hand grabbed around your elbow just as you scooped up your cloak from the middle of the temple, his eyes blown and grip tighter than ever.

"scaramouche?" you innocently tilted your head to the side, curiosity enveloping your irises that now lacked the vibrant green dendro ring.

ah, your curiosity, your kindness, your gentle nature, your humor, he adored everything about you, and he could hide it no longer.

with a yank of his hand forwards, his lips eagerly met yours in an uncharacteristically jumbled and awkward yet endearing kiss. he swallowed your surprised squeak and melded his lips properly against your own, arm coming around to hold your body flush against his. scaramouche's fist let go of your gnosis and let it tumble to the ground, using his free hands to dig into the small of your back and trap you in his broad arms.

"who said..." he began once parting from your breathless lips, gulping for air himself, "that you could leave my side?"

scaramouche's eyes darted from your own and back down towards your lips, cheeks ruddy and warm and mouth parted to breathe in the sweet air you managed to steal from him. you followed his gaze and ran your fingers against the dangling jewel from his ear that matched yours.

"i believe..." you started with a giggle, using your thumb to run against his bottom lip, "that the tsaritsa will be awfully upset to know that you've discarded the gnosis like that."

scaramouche scoffed and grabbed your chin between his forefinger and thumb and muttered a, "i don't care," before taking your lips as his once again.

it's a pretty, forward way of confessing, but scaramouche becomes your lover from that day onwards!

he garbles out an offer to come stay with him, which you accept!

the trip back to snezhnaya was filled with longing looks and breathless kisses that left him weak in the knees

of course, he makes sure that affectionate gestures are in private settings because celestia forbid that a fatui agent walk in on scaramouche, red in the face, being pampered with kisses and affectionate words by his archon significant other

when he presents the dendro archon's gnosis to the tsaritsa, she's quick to catch on that his means of acquisition were...unorthodox

but makes no comment of it, much to his relief

as soon as his business is done in snezhnaya, he makes haste to his (luxurious) residence in inazuma which is where he chooses to lay a base with you

because he's a harbinger, he often must leave at unpredictable times in a hurried manner

before, such a mobile lifestyle was fine because it was just his own back that he had to worry about and no one else's

however, you have now entered the picture

he'll make contradictory responses about leaving you alone for prolonged periods of time

"you'll burn the damn place down while i'm gone."

"you say that while you're hugging and kissing me goodbye, scaramouche."

"...shut up."

by associating with him in general, you've inherently become a target for outside parties that have a bone to pick with the fatui (which are there are, unsurprisingly, a lot of)

you might have to remind him that you're a literal archon and can defend yourself perfectly fine (and even then it'd be difficult for him to part from you)

aside from the chaos that is his life as a harbinger, when all is quiet and there's no missions on his belt, he'll be right by your side

his love is shown largely through words of affirmation, except they come off as the exact opposite with good intentions hidden beneath them

you help him spar in the large backyard, and he's surprised to learn that you can easily take him down

part of his time with you has led him to discover a lot more about you, like the fact that intense emotions of yours manifest into flowers that bloom along your body

one too many times has he whispered suggestive words in your ear with a teasing, sultry lilt, or let his hand wader across the span of your body

only to be met with wine red roses that bloomed from the depths of your skin and wrapped around his hands

scaramouche will never admit the way your kind words and gentle touch send his heart racing

from the simple tap of his shoulder or the warmest of embraces lined with sugar filled kisses: he loves your touch

he's not used to authenticity; kind, genuine, pure of heart compliments and words, which is why he hates that you manage to fluster him so easily with "that shirt makes you look even more handsome" or a "be well and stay safe, darling"

scaramouche is used to bandaging his wounds—both physical and (eugh) emotional—in complete solitude

but you're here now, and he begins to realize that he finally has someone to rely on—someone who cares about him to the most authentic extent

rain hammered down against his body as he approached the steep climb towards the large, luxurious house that sat atop a secluded hill in araumi.

blood, his own or someone else's, smeared itself across his cheek and shielded itself from the rain by the large rim of his hat. his bloodied nose ached with every intake of rain laden air; the only smell scaramouche could possibly register at this point was the irony peak of blood. his legs burned and ached with every step forwards; tingling vibrations shot themselves up from his ankles to the small of his back. the open gash on his torso felt like burning ice and stung with every raindrop that splattered onto his bloodied shirt. the house loomed onwards and high above, led up to by a trail of pearly white stairs crafted of marble; he was seriously beginning to regret the fancy structure of his house.

his breath stuttered against his lips upon reaching the first step, body sagging onto the railing when he heard a voice from above.

"scaramouche?!"

he looked upwards to see your figure, void of any umbrellas, coverings, or shoes and only in your night clothes as you stood near the first landing of the steps. with the steady candlelight from the house behind: you looked like an angel.

how he had managed to make it under the warm roof of his house, he wasn't quite sure. scaramouche only remembers your frantic touch and his arm slung around your shoulder as you walked step by step up to the porch. before he knew it, scaramouche found himself soiling a fresh, snow white futon with the blood and dirt that covered his body while you made haste to pull off his soaked shoes and gather appropriate materials to help clean him up. hat already tossed to the side, you peeled layer after layer of soaked clothing off until he lay bare in nothing but his boxers, large gash on display for you to gawk at.

"scara..." you mumbled and ran your fingertips over the reddened edges of his wound.

he hissed at the sudden contact and gulped for air through his chapped lips. you smiled apologetically and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "you'll be alright, just hold still."

energy the color of a dewy leaf or thick, pale moss, thrummed from your fingertips as you hovered over his wounds. the dendro energy from your skin began to morph his skin and shut the gash in slow, gentle motions, leaving behind nothing but a thin scar across the middle. your hands moved across the span of his body, taking great care not to miss any patch of skin, no matter how small the wound. finally at ease, scaramouche trained his eyes on you with bated breath as you lovingly tended to his wounds with a strong ring of green around your irises. your hands finally glided over to his face, where blood smeared his cheek and the thin trail of blood from his nose greeted you with a nasty leer.

"not mine, promise." he mumbled when your thumb rubbed over the patch of dried blood on his cheek. his words didn't seem to ease the worried look on your face.

a few more motions of your hands and his nose was good as new. your hands reached for the basin of warm water and gentle washing cloth as scaramouche sat up, a haggard breath escaping his lips.

"i may have healed your wounds, but you need rest. they will reopen if you exert yourself." you warn, warm hand cupping his cheek while the other wiped the trail of blood from his nose.

"don't give me that shit, i'm completely fine." he huffed, but allowed you to continue wiping his skin down with warm water.

"please, scaramouche," to his surprise, tears began to pool in your eyes and cascade down your cheeks in silent waterfalls, "you are so important to me, take better care of yourself, please."

though his body stung and you'd just warned him about moving, scaramouche couldn't help but pull you into his lap and lock his arms tight around your body.

"i'm not going anywhere. it'll take an army and it's general...and a dragon to kill me." he mumbled into your scalp, feeling the weight on his chest lessen with a snort in response to his sarcastic response.

"promise?" you moved your face from his neck to look him in the eye, remembering just how bloodied he'd been just moments earlier.

scaramouche moved his hand to grab your pinkie in his and shake it. "throw me in the ice or whatever if i do."

you giggle and raise his hand to your lips, eyes shut in pure bliss and a gentle smile etched on your lips. in that moment, scaramouche wished with all his might that his time with you would be stretched out into an eternity.

you had a weird start to your relationship: never did scaramouche ever fathom that he'd find someone to put up with his disagreeable personality

nor that he'd fall in love with the prime target of his mission

but you managed to wrangle him up in your vines of love and swaddle him in a warmth that was unfamiliar yet welcomed

he's not one to revere the gods as ethereal beings; to him they're no more than placeholders, or figureheads

however, you are the only archon that has his complete and utter devotion

and it's not because of your archon status that he is devoted wholly to you, but your kindness and love that brings him to his knees

despite his unpleasant behavior, there isn't a single thing he wouldn't do for you, even if he'd grumble and complain about it all the while

the earring that dangles from his ear and matches your own reminds him that he has someone to come home to, and someone to love

the day khaenri'ah fell is all a blur in dainsleif's mind

he lost everything:

his home, his people, his status, his life

all thanks to the heartless gods who cared not for the lives of puny mortals

despite the foggy remnants of his memory, he does remember something in particular that has stuck with him for centuries onwards:

how someone managed to bring him to safety, away from all the carnage and rot of khaenri'ah's destruction

by then, the curse of immortality had been laid, but whoever it was who saved him had managed to sneak through the wreckage and haul his unconscious body out of the pits of khaenri'ah into a grassy plain of wildflowers

though in and out of consciousness, he remembered the clean ring of vibrant green around their irises, the sweet smell of fresh flowers, their soft touch as they mended his wounds, and their honey-like voice that tried as much as possible to keep him conscious

the last thing he remembers before slipping into oblivion was the calmness and ease of his pain and the hum of energy in his ears

he awoke that night in a small clearing next to a crackling campfire, arm in a sling and a blanket over his body

since then, he's embarked to seek answers and pursue goals that were far out of anyone's reach

he wandered aimlessly as days trickled into weeks, then months, years, decades, centuries

until he finally meets you in sumeru

you're an advisor for the study of medicinal herbs at sumeru's finest academic institution, where dainsleif heads one day to procure both information and herbs

upon talking to him for just a bit, you discover that he is in search of a specific type of plant and offer your physical assistance to help him find it

throughout your little adventure, dainsleif finds that you're excellent to work with and before he can even ask if you'd like to come with him when he leaves sumeru, you offer up to join him on his travels first

he finds great solace and versatility in you: your dendro vision allows for easier access to places where nature invades, and your amicable and kind personality makes for great bargaining skills

over time as you travel more and more places together, dainsleif begins to feel an unfamiliar weight in his chest that doesn't exactly feel unwelcome

warm, calm, serene, peaceful is how he feels when you're around

he can't help but be enamored by everything about you: your eyes, lips, curve of your nose and rise of your cheeks. your kindness, your gentle nature, your perceptive insight and intelligence. all of it.

the romantic tension between you two was unbearable in the best way

quiet flames flickered from the small campsite and cast gentle shadows across the span of his face. he observed with a quiet smile, the way in which your fingers skimmed through line after line of some ancient books you had procured today, spines broken and covers worn with age and love. a shiver rocked your body as you scooted closer to him for warmth, your hips coming in contact merely once and it was enough to send tingles throughout his body.

"cold?" he asked.

you placed the book down and nodded, coming closer to his side if possible. with a single click of the clasp, the charcoal cloak that draped over his shoulders fell from his body as he placed it over yours.

"well that's not fair," you pout, fanning out the fabric so that instead of just you, the cloak covered both your bodies, "we both need to be covered."

there was no hiding the furious blush on his face as you inch even closer to him if it was possible to do so, your head coming to rest on his broad shoulder.

"are you okay, dain? your heart is beating so fast..." voice tinted with faded whispers, your fingers run over the thick fabric that protects his bare skin.

"yes, i'm...fine. do not concern yourself with my wellbeing, you need to warm up." dainsleif murmured gently and tugged the fabric up closer to your shoulders.

he wasn't sure when you'd wriggled your way past his thick irony boundaries or when he'd become so comfortable with your touch, but he didn't mind if you used his shoulder like a pillow and drooled on him, or spurred him onwards into hole in the wall buildings to discover ancient products. and his most favorite: when you'd craft flowers from your fingers and thread them through his coat or hair.

"i can't just not care about you, dain. that's silly." you giggle and brushed aside wisps of his ashen locks from his piercing azure gems. he resisted the urge to lean down and press a kiss to your forehead once your arms wrapped around his torso, so snug and comfortable.

"ah...then i apologize."

"dain?" you look up at him with sparkling eyes, threaded by pale, persimmon flames from the campfire that completely entrance him.

"yes, (y/n)?"

much to his surprise, your hands slink up to hold his face so he stared directly at you.

"can i show you how much i care about you?" there was a new gentleness to your voice that he'd never heard before, and the confusion that painted his face at your words dissipated once he nodded and felt his head tilt to the side and your soft, downy lips press against his cheek.

for far too long, he'd imagined the feeling of your lips on his skin in manners that had him burning up and shaking such thoughts out of his head. but now, having got a taste, his desire seemed to be insatiable. your lips parted from the soft of his cheek far too soon for his liking, your eyes shy and mouth curved into a timid smile.

"i'm sorry if i overstepped any- mmph?!"

before you could speak any apologies, you find that dainsleif's lips had connected and molded to fit perfectly against yours. his arms snuck around your waist to stabilize you against his throbbing heart. his mind was completely encased by all that you were: your body, mind, and soul filtered through your connected lips and became one with his in the most vibrant and indescribable ways.

dainsleif reluctantly parted from your lips with a quiet gasp and rose a hand to cup your burning cheeks.

"i care deeply about you as well, if it was not evident."

despite the teasing nature of his remark, his eyes shied away from your intense gaze, the one that sent butterflies up from the confines of his stomach.

"hehe, at least now," you giggled and pressed a gentle kiss first to his nose, then a lingering, chaste kiss to his lips, "i am well aware that our feelings are mutual."

dainsleif never exactly expected for you to return his feelings, but he considers it a win in his book

though he feels infinitely unworthy of your love and affection, you often remind him that he deserves the world and all the love contained within it

it takes a while for him to open up about his past, but he trusts you with all that he is

so he sits down and tells you all he knows of his origins: khaenri'ah, the gods, his immortality, all of it

given that he's under the impression that you are a mere mortal human, his immortality is a subject that pains him the most

to know that you'd one day leave him behind and succumb to the fate of time

but you know that isn't true, and you recognize him as someone familiar from the wreckages of khaenri'ah

hiding your secret eats you up inside, especially since dain has made it excruciatingly clear that he desires nothing to do with the gods or anyone or anything associated with them

eventually, hiding becomes too much and you realize that he deserves the truth, even if dainsleif were to discard your bond

sitting under trees and reading had become a pleasant past time for the two of you, though you've always much rather preferred to hear dainsleif's smooth voice recount tales from the aged book that would have your eyes drooping and mouth curved into a serene smile.

but today, your face lacked its usual vibrancy and your smile seemed devoid of your usual joy as he read word after word with you perched on his lap. instead, your eyes lingered on the gentle green glow emitted from your hands and the guilt that ate away at you inside. the sun was just about to blanket itself over a drape of midnight sky, and dainsleif had begun to set up camp when he finally asked, "you don't seem like yourself today, is something the matter?"

you take in a shaky breath before turning to face him with hesitation in every one of your movements. "dain...you despise the gods, right?" timidly, you step into the shallows and fear knowing that soon you will have to face the deep end.

"yes, i have no respect nor care for them at all. why do you ask?"

the lump in your throat began to pulse, almost as if to tell you not to speak the words that had been broiling in your stomach for so long, but you knew it was impossible.

you allowed your eyes to slip behind their lids as your hands folded themselves into a position of prayer. viridian and chartreuse swirls of dendro energy formed from your chest and enveloped your body for a brief moment only to dissipate and leave you floating back to the ground in white, ancient garments with golden rings on your upper arm and left thigh. thick, chocolate colored branched formed by your temples and curved backwards to form horn-like structures. striking strips of verdant dendro energy ran up your arms and legs and settled at your throat to form the heart symbol.

you opened your eyes, and dainsleif found himself face to face with a ring of bright green around your irises that seemed so familiar.

"i'm the dendro archon." your voice was meek, and nothing like that of a god. from your clasped hands, your fingers unfurled to reveal your tiny gnosis decorated in little flowers and gleaming of warmth and the gentle touch of a flower petal.

if he hadn't seen the gnosis, or your archon clothes, dainsleif would hardly believe you. a joke, a taunting tease akin to pinching his cheek in a loving manner or nudging his ribs, that was what declaring yourself as an archon sounded like. but the gnosis in your hand, the tattoos on your skin, the clothing on your back, it all pointed to the obvious.

he was sure his expression was ruthless given the manner in which you silently responded with guarded hands.

"dain..." your hand unconsciously reached out to him to hold his face, but never got that far.

fury coursed through his body like a toxic viper, devoid of rational thoughts or understanding. his muscles jerked to slap your hand away, teeth bared full and anger glinting his in starry pupiled eyes.

"DON'T COME NEAR ME! don't take another step!"

you felt your heart stop in your chest. his eyes roamed over your body like a man possessed. you'd never seen dainsleif this angry or worked up. your sweet, kind, albeit too formal and a little awkward, dainsleif. each day he'd wake up and gaze at you with nothing but love and adoration, and now he stood before you defensively, shielding himself as if you were a monster.

"dain, please i can explain-"

"explain?! there's nothing to explain," dainsleif backed away from you, even as you halted your footsteps forwards, "you archons simply love to toy with people, don't you?"

his hands worked quickly to gather his items and sling his backpack over his shoulders.

"did you perhaps think that you could spend your time toying with a mortal? am i amusing to you? did you have your fill?!" he barked, eyes narrowed into hostile slits.

your voice wouldn't meet your lips no matter how hard you tried. you desperately wanted to deny his claims; that you loved him with all your heart, but it seemed your strangled silence was enough of an answer for him.

"do not follow me."

he didn't dare look at your face, for to feel compassion or empathy for a god would be a gross negligence of their actions towards his people. dainsleif had never ran that fast before in his life, nor had he ever faced the dilemma that brewed within his heart that urged him to turn around and talk things out. but the damage had been done, and he knew that there was no saving a bond shared between a khaenri'ahan and an archon.

you watched with watery eyes as dainsleif hurriedly ran further and further away from your embrace. your body fizzled with dendro energy as you numbly walked towards a nearby stream and crumpled to your knees, eventually falling limp on your side. rejection had been your worst fear, and not only had it come true but it cost you your most beloved. and now there was nothing you could do about it, so you cried and cried and cried and let the ground around you absorb your agonizing pain.

he can't exactly get you off of his mind no matter how hard he tries

dainsleif ends up spending a week in a hotel in a town far away from where he left you and can hardly rise from bed without feeling a rippling pain in his heart

a constant war between his emotions and his mind play out, and he doesn't know which side to align with

against all he stands for, dainsleif finds himself wandering back to his time with you: your radiant smile, jubilant laughter, kindness, generosity, empathy, the soft curve of your body and the gentle, feather light tough of your lips on his

thoughts of you plague his mind day in and day out, no matter what

there exists a lingering guilt that eats away at him when he recalls the brief moment he looked up to see the absolute distraught emotions on your face

he finds himself sitting on the edge of the hotel's bed, unable to sleep and mind filled with thoughts of you as he runs his thumb over an intricate bookmark you had bought for him

dainsleif often wonders about the ring of green around your eyes in your archon form, and why they appeared to be so familiar and so warm

and it suddenly hits him: memories of the distant past khaenri'ah where he'd been spared from the god's wrath and dragged unconscious from the wreckage

those same, familiar green irises sparked the realization that it had to be you who saved him

and this realization released the floodgates for the wave of guilt that crushed him under its weight

he had left you all by yourself and rejected you when you'd bared all of yourself to him

you knew who he was the moment you first met him, and kept silent of your kind deeds and he just knows that it's because that last thing you'd ever want is for him to feel obligated to be with you

and it's this realization that has his mind giving way to all the thoughts of you that he's suppressed

dainsleif can only hope that you would give this sinner just one last chance to beg for forgiveness

night had fallen by the time he reached his destination. dainsleif isn't sure what called to him to return to where he left you, after all you were quite intelligent and staying in one place for too long while traveling was never the brightest idea. but much to his surprise, your items lay exactly where you left them and had faced the elements. he stooped to pick up a soggy copy of your favorite book off of the ground that had faced the hardships of rain, the very same one he had been reading to you the evening of your confession. his heart stung and stuttered to know that something could have possibly happened to you.

his eyes frantically searched the shady tree area for any sign of you, only for a trail of small, yellow flowers to catch his eye. they trailed downwards off a rugged path, and his legs felt compelled to adhere to the strange breadcrumb trail.

the flowers lead him to a small clearing, where a gentle stream rushed by, and where your figure lay on your side surrounded by heaps upon heaps of little, lemony flowers. dainsleif's chest began to morph and twist with every step he took towards your body, still in your archon form. he feared so greatly that death had taken you into its hands as he knelt down with trembling legs to your body. much to his surprise, you were quite awake and numbly staring at the rushing water in front of your face. the light in your lovely eyes had faded, leaving the ring a dull hazel, the color of dirt or faded mud. faded tear tracks marked lines down the center of your face, and he knew that the damage he had done was immense.

"(y/n)..." his voice warbled with suppressed emotions as his lips morphed into a watery frown.

your eyes peeled themselves away from the flowing water and connected with dainsleif's, to which you replied with a half hearted chuckle and no more.

"i'm hallucinating now? heartbreak is fascinating." you mumbled with a sad smile as your hand moved upwards to caress his skin.

"you're not hallucinating, i'm...i am real." he murmured just as he placed his hand over yours.

the light within your eyes began to spark, then glimmer with hope as the realness of the situation set in. no words could escape your lips before he had pulled you up, drawn you into a tight hug and pressed kiss after kiss to your temples, just below your branch-like horns.

"could you ever forgive this foolish sinner?" dainsleif mumbled into your shoulder and squeezed tighter, as if you'd fade from his grasp should his grip slack even the slightest.

"dain...it's me who should be asking for forgiveness, not-"

dainsleif was never a selfish man, but with you he was allowed to indulge and savor your warmth. his lips cut off your refutes just as they were about to emerge from your lips.

"you saved me, didn't you?" he asked once parted from your lips.

"you remembered." you cooed, thumbing over his ruddy cheeks.

"i tried my best to reason with the gods, but dendro is not as powerful an element as others think." a sigh enveloped your words with regret and sorrow, hands moving downwards from his face to his shoulders, "but then, i saw you. and narrowly i managed to get you out before total ruin fell to khaenri'ah."

dainsleif's heart hammered ferociously in his chest upon understanding the true magnitude of your words. you hadn't laid siege to khaenri'ah, you hadn't harmed his people in any way. you were innocent.

"i'm a fool." dainsleif berated, guilt wrenching his heart in every which way.

"you're no fool, you've just been hurt." you coo, wiping away at a stray tear that trickled down his face.

"how is it that you're able to be so kind to me even now?" he asked. your sniffles and mumbled whimpers hidden behind that smile of yours tore his heart in two, knowing that his rash actions had been the cause of your sorrow.

"it's because i love you, wholly. you are no toy for me to play with, and i will follow you to the ends of teyvat if you would indulge me." you caress the heat of his cheek and allow him to wipe away the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

"and i, you, whether you were mortal or an archon. you'll forever have my heart." and the words he spoke were truer that he'd even been, more honest than he'd ever felt with himself in so long.

his words made your limp heart swell with affection, and any doubt you might've had flitted away with the cool wind.

"you are absolutely beautiful." his eyes study you in a passionate way as his hands glide over your bark horns, to your supple cheeks, then finally coming to thumb underneath the skin of your vibrant, crystal-like eyes where a ring of soft green peered back at him.

you shy away from his gaze, face warm and fluster evidence in the warbled smile that creeps up onto your lips. but dainsleif was not finished, for a man who craved every inch of you he could never be satiated with doubt lingering in your body.

"i promise to you, you shall never shed another tear under my watch, my starlight." his lips hovered above yours momentarily, as if asking for permission before you closed the gap and looped your arms firm around his neck.

the love of a god was infinite and powerful and even if he were to wander the grounds of teyvat for a century more, he'd be alright as long as you stood by his side.

despite his grievances with the gods and celestia, dainsleif has come to an odd conclusion: not all the gods were responsible for what happened

you are his prime example

your capacity for love and kindness is so foreign to a man who has known nothing but solitude and grief

and he learns to embrace it, one step at a time with your help

dainsleif carries a heavy conscience, but he's at east knowing that you are but a momentary longing glance away and he's free to usher you close for comforting cuddles

he's much more careful with expressing his distaste for the gods around you after you reveal yourself (even if you encourage him to be more vocal)

dainsleif believes in fate as a harbinger of sorrow and anguish

but if fate had brought you to him, then perhaps fate wasn't such a bad concept after all

date published: september 10th, 2021

somewhere out there, heimerdinger just dropped the biggest, most justified ‘i told you so’

jesus no

taking a bath(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)

---

What Do I Do?

Summary: Caitlyn called you…but you weren’t supposed to hear that.

Warnings: toxic situation relationship, alludes to smut (minors fuck off or you will get blocked), don’t know if there’s others. Modern!au, we don’t do that crybaby shit over here

Notes: I wrote this all in one sitting while drinking so if there’s any mistakes or anything, don’t talk about it

WC: 1.0k

You were at home, lounging on the couch with your favorite show playing on the TV. It was a Sunday evening, the sun was just about to set and you had no classes for the day and decided to spend the rare day by yourself.

Realistically, you would rather have one other person with you but she hadn’t responded to you at all since early morning.

Unfortunately, that was pretty common for Caitlyn; she had her phone on either DND or was just busy altogether. It did get on your nerves a lot of the time but Caitlyn always took your mind off of it whenever you two were together; she always gave you her full attention and you never doubted anything when you were with her.

The only thing that irked you about the taller girl was her lack of wanting to further the relationship. Whenever you tried to broach the topic of finally becoming exclusive after almost seven months, Caitlyn brushed you off or completely changed the conversation. Most times it did lead to arguments that led the both of you staying silent for almost a week until she ended up coming back like nothing happened.

You’ll have to force her to have that conversation one day so the weird grey area you were in would finally clear up.

It was only a few minutes later when your phone rang.

Cait 💜

You couldn’t help but smile at the contact name and eagerly answered.

”Hey, Cait. I was just thinking about you—what’s up?”

She didn’t respond.

“Caitlyn? Hello?”

There was a slight rustling sound on the other end. You stayed quiet incase you could hear anything.

After a few seconds of silence, you finally heard a soft voice.

“Fuck…”

You paused, making sure you heard correctly. If you were right, then Caitlyn was enjoying her own solitude in a different way and wanted to tease you into coming over.

But…something seemed off.

You continued to listen, seeing if anything else could be heard. And soon enough, something else came through.

At first, it was Caitlyn. “Oh, f-fuck. Don’t stop.”

Then the next noise made your blood run cold.

“Yeah, feels good doesn't it, cupcake? You gonna cum for me?”

“No fucking way,” you muttered to yourself. The light blanket that was laying on top of you was suddenly thrown off of you as you raced for the closest pair of shoes you could find.

She wouldn’t—Caitlyn wouldn’t do that to you. That wasn’t like her, was it? You weren’t sure if you believed those words, as much as you wanted to. But on the whole drive there, that was the only thing going through your mind.

You soon found yourself standing outside of her door, the spare key that was hidden inside of her outside plant in hand as you hesitated. Your heart was thudding to the point where you were sure it could be heard from other people. You weren’t sure what was waiting for you on the other side of the door but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

The door carefully swung open; the living room was clear but there was noise that could be heard from down the hall, towards Caitlyn’s room. Your steps were quiet as you walked closer to the cracked open door.

There was a girl with pink hair laying halfway on top of Caitlyn, who was eagerly pulling her closer, giving her almost desperate kisses. Caitlyn, however, seemed to be enjoying it, thanks to the hefty moans that were coming from her. It was the sounds of the door opening further that gained their attention.

Immediately Caitlyn pushed the other girl off of her, resulting in her tumbling to the floor. A head full of pink jumped up while Caitlyn could only look at you with wide eyes.

“Hi?” The girl said, confusion heavy in her voice. “Are you Caitlyn’s roommate? Sorry, we were being too loud?”

She didn’t seem bothered in the slightest that the only thing that was covered of her was the lower half of her body by a pair of boxers. Yet still, your main focus was Caitlyn, whose eyes were quickly flickering between the both of you.

”Roommate, Caitlyn?” You hissed. “Are you serious?”

”So, no to the roommate then?”

”We’re together! So, no. I’m not her roommate.”

She could only blink at you. “I’m…sorry? What?”

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Was the only thing Caitlyn could say at the moment.

You waved your phone at her, showing the call log you received from her not even an hour ago.

”I wasted seven months on you, Caitlyn.” Your voice was tighter, either from anger or sorrow, you couldn’t tell which one. “Almost an entire year, you were—what, with other people?!”

”Person, one, her,” Caitlyn corrected, reaching for her silk robe that wasn’t far from her. “I’m allowed to see other people seeing how we’re not together.”

”Exclusive or not, loyalty just means shit to you, right?”

You could see Caitlyn roll her eyes. “I don’t owe you loyalty. You’re being overly dramatic on technicalities.”

“Technicalities? What—“

“Wait, wait. You have a girlfriend?” You then remembered the third party that was still in the room; she seemed to have snapped out of the stupor she was in. “What the fuck, Cait—you said you were single!”

”Because I am!” She yelled. Cait then turned to you. “We are not together. I don’t know how many times I have to keep telling you this. We’re nothing!”

You sucked in a harsh breath, refusing to tell the tears that were collecting fall. “You’re right, Caitlyn. We’re not together. We are nothing, and we will continue to be that. Go fuck yourself.”

Caitlyn looked surprised at your words. Out of anything, that was the last thing she suspected from you. As you moved to leave her apartment, you could hear her trying to grab your attention once more before Vi intercepted to yell out her own words.

The strong facade lasted until you got into your car. You just settled down into your seat when the tears finally started falling.

just a pretty face part four (pre-relationship)

summary: let me explain !! warnings: angst, talk of drinking, talk of food, suggestive, language, slut shaming, 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact, not proofread incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, shiu, sukuna, choso, ino ps: if your not being tagged, check your settings

this is kinda a filler chapter to show how the jjk men are reacting before the real drama happens. im kinda stuck between a few different options for ch. five, so peer pressure me into what you guys want !!

part one, part two, part three, part four

taglist: @higuchislut @entr4p3 @waterfal-ling @yourname-exee @kuro-chi69 @ourfinalisation @erishishigami @your-favorite-god @queenmimis @b0nez9 @mikorinstan @spookypeacesandwich @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @ventila98 @viatorem-maris @reivunzu @softobvvillion @blurpleuni-squid @hellv1ra @shesabeeler @tatsuomii @mortallyshadysoul @animereaderinsertwriter @v1x3n @satoruswifeyyyy @indiewritesxoxo @justbelljust @emi311 @rosieandthethorns @r0ckst4rjk @rawwrrgal @linaaeatsfamilies

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