azuuryu

.・゜゜・

genre: inspired by the beloved princess hours!!!! romantic comedy, lighthearted, humorous story that has emotional moments along with what the fuck. where [name] navigates royal duties and an arranged marriage with a charming yet maddening prince.

.・゜゜・

warnings: my first SMAU (legit) language (e.g., “life has fucked YOU"), themes of arranged marriage, depictions of royal pressure and court corruption, potential for suggestive humor or romantic tension, SLOW BURN BABY--afab reader but I'll try to make it neutral!

contains around estimated: 24 parts or less! it depends if I'm free to work on it 😼

taglist: ask or simply use the emoji 👑!

status: just beginning!

❃ notes:

● don't be afraid to share ideas!

● feel free to imagine yourself however you want here

• currently working on it as of may 7!

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⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 🎶 now playing

»»————> chasing stars, crowned in love

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ royals and stars! ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

✦ • ♛ Royal Pain Society -- ꕤ • Lovely Menace Club

. . unexpected jewels and tiaras

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

01. a seat I never thought of taking

00. history of golden lineage

02. at first glance at that crown

03. the royal family

that bliss however, will change today. dottore knows about where she's from. a planet far from the depths of teyvat. a globe dominated solely by the human race with no room for elemental power. a planet currently known as earth.

very little is known about this planet, which only causes dottore's interest to peak. her origin makes her the perfect test subject for the doctor, but i will not let him lay a dirty fingernail on her.

we cannot continue to travel as one; dottore will find her if she's with me. i don't have any cards left to play.

i do worry that leaving her alone would put her in another danger. she carries no vision, nor any strength that could compare to the creatures of teyvat. however, nothing is more dangerous than becoming an experiment of the second fatui harbinger. on the inside i know she'll be okay. she can find-

she can find my replacement. a new companion.

my only option is to watch over her from the shadows. that is the only way i can protect her.

sometimes i can tell that i hurt her feelings when we converse. but my personality is something i can't change, and she's never seemed to want change from me. perhaps that's why i've enjoyed her company more than i could ever enjoy another human being's. she understands me more than i think she does.

since i made her cry on her last birthday, i've decided that i could attempt to make her smile this time around. in my defense though, the cookies she made for us to share together were truly detrimental. but... maybe my words were too harsh. i forget what i said exactly... "you wanna poison me? are you so dumb as to have forgotten that i'm not human?"

my eyes trail back to ms. craziness and my eyes widen when she trips over a tree branch. i actually have no idea how i've been traveling together with a girl who has two left legs without dying. i don't notice the tears streaming from my eyes until she looks my way and spots me.

she runs over to me, and i quickly wipe the useless, hot tears. when i see her happy expression, i need to make an effort not to let the guilt eat me alive. i think i've admitted it to myself a while ago, but i love y/n. i'd presumed just as everyone else that i'm a puppet incapable of anything close to love, but if what i feel for y/n isn't love then i'm not sure what it is. i am positive that it is love. when you experience pain, you don't doubt it and assume it's something else. you just feel. and when i'm with her i feel.

"SCARA!" y/n exclaims as she topples me over in a hug. i nearly fall to the ground, but i'm able to catch us before it's too late. gosh, can she even contain her energy for two rational seconds?

i shove her off of me, but before i can say anything, she excitedly holds up a compass-like trinket in my face. "look! a sweet young boy gave me this lovely compass! it's supposed to lead you to wherever you'll be the happiest! and~ it led me right to you! we are just the perfect little duo, aren't we scara?"

i scoff, "and you believe that? it led you towards me because i'm standing north from where you were earlier."

y/n's excited expression drops.

"oh..." she pouts. "well... we can still pretend, right?"

pretend. maybe i can pretend she'll always be with me.

"pretending won't get you anywhere in life," i respond flatly.

"oh, but you pretend all the time," she responds. "i know you sometimes pretend that you can't hear me when i ramble about random things. although it hurts my feelings, you're still my best friend, scara."

what she said is actually not true. i in fact remember everything she rambles about in great detail. like that one time she was complaining about how she hates her hair because the wind blows it in an unattractive way. it was just so annoying because she needs to set her priorities straight. her appearance should be the last of her worries.

"give me your hand," i say. my voice is softer than i intended it to be. when she extends her hand, i slip a diamond bracelet around her wrist. on it is a charm with her nickname for me engraved in the center: scara.

please don't forget about me.

"oh, scara... it's beautiful! I'll never take it off. i promise."

"i have a matching one," i respond as i hold up my wrist for her the see.

she smiles when she sees the nickname engraved on my bracelet: princess.

there it is. her smile.

i sigh. "human, i know that you have your other shenanigans to deal with today, as do i. but meet me up that hill in the forest at sunset."

"oh, okay? scara, why are you being extra nice today?"

"um," i attempt a half smile. "it's your birthday, isn't it?"

[6:03pm]

i pick up the sword from the wet grass of the forest mountain beneath me. it's raining hard tonight. y/n is going to catch a cold, and i won't be there to care.

i walk over to the puppet standing across from me. my puppet. the puppet i've created to fake my own death. isn't it funny? the puppet of a puppet. both abandoned by their creators.

i take my bracelet off and slip it on its wrist. she has to believe it's me.

"i'm sorry," i whisper before stabbing my clone in the chest. i close my eyes when i hear my own voice cry out in a short-lived pain. it falls to the ground, lifeless as i walk away into the forest.

the bloodshed spreads with the heavy rain, and moments later, i see y/n approach the dead body. there she is.

and i feel as if my nonexistent heart has cracked in half when she screams. my eyes close in a sort of pain i've never experienced before. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, princess. it's the only way you wouldn't look for me.

i wish that a day will come where we can be partners again. but on the inside i know that her human lifespan is not long enough to fulfill that silly wish.

Odd. Venti isn’t the type to just sit in complete silence very often. Even when he’s sleeping, he always leaves soft music playing in the background, almost as if he’s trying to avoid the silence.

You make your way into the kitchen, and begin to catch on to what must have happened here while you were out. Six empty bottles of various wines sit scattered around on the counter, and a seventh bottle has obviously been smashed to pieces on the floor. Venti doesn’t really drop things on accident. He’s got reflexes like a cat. Besides, there’s no wine on the floor, just glass.

It doesn’t take long for you to put two and two together and realize that a particular type of storm really must have rolled through.

You find him in the bathroom. There’s no way he didn’t notice you opening the door, but he makes no move to acknowledge your presence either. You take in his appearance. Hair hanging loose and messy where his braids have fallen out. The tips are glowing, just like his eyes and his archon marks are. Well, what you can see of them from between the parted fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, at least. They fade from a bright blue to a soft teal, in and out along with his breathing.

He seems half dressed, his vision, cape, corset, hat and accessories all gone. Standing with his back to you in just his shorts and shirt, you can see his tense expression in the mirror. He’s obviously had a bad day. His thin fingers are gripping the edge of the counter so hard you were surprised that it wasn’t crumbling underneath the force. Though, as usual, even when pushed to his breaking point, he was never one to forget his own strength. Not nowadays, at least.

He didn’t like having to use it, didn’t like it when others would look at him in fear after seeing even a fraction of what he’s truly capable of, so he keeps it reigned in. Tries to make himself look the least imposing he can. He wants to appear approachable. Friendly, warm, and safe. He usually does his best to mirror the way his friend had always carried himself, and tonight he seems to be having trouble doing that. He’s upset about something, that much is obvious… and you know him well enough to know that he’s not letting himself feel it. Not fully.

You attempt to break the staring contest he’s having with himself in the mirror. It’s a little off-putting, honestly, given the fact that he can go a concerning amount of time without blinking. Or moving.. at all. Standing here in the bathroom, as still as any one of the statues carved in his image that decorate the peaks and valleys of the City of Freedom. He’s actually kind of unsettling when he’s angry, and you’re willing to bet that’s exactly what he’s mad about in the first place. He doesn’t like himself like this.

You’re not truly afraid of him, though. Never have been. Venti has never once raised so much as a single hand against you in anger. You can’t even recall the last time he raised his voice around you. He doesn’t want anyone to see him when he’s upset… when he’s angry. Least of all, you. But you’ll be damned if you’re going to just walk away and let him try and deal with these emotions on his own. He’s had to do that for long enough. You’re here now and you’re going to do what you can to help him work through this.

You try to keep your voice as soft and gentle as you can when you break the silence.

“Something’s bothering you, Venti.”

His eyes dart to your reflection in the left corner of the mirror and they stay on you for a long moment. He still doesn’t blink. His lips are pressed together in a stoic, straight line. He parts them, and speaks.

“Barbatos.”

His eyes flick back to their prior position, glaring back into his reflection.

“It’s Barbatos. No one-" he pauses for a moment, seemingly searching his face for something recognizable and failing to find it, “-no one else.”

Just like you suspected, he’s struggling with his identity again tonight. It doesn’t happen often these days but it certainly does still happen. Your heart aches for him every time, watching him look upon his own form with such disdain. You attempt to talk him down.

“Okay… that’s okay.”

You make your way further into the bathroom and lean back against the door frame.

“Then, Barbatos, is there any particular reason you’re not Venti tonight, love?”

He closes his eyes and lets his head quickly drop forward to press his forehead against the mirror. The impact sounds like it hurt but if it does he doesn’t show it.

“I can’t be Venti. Not tonight. Not when I’m like… this.”

He takes a deep breath, and it comes out shaky like he’s trying to steady himself. When he turns around and looks up at you, you notice the pale blue tear tracks running down over the apples of his cheeks, and you feel a pain in your chest. There are few sights more upsetting than looking your very own God dead in the eyes and watching them cry. It’s.. it’s painful. Seeing how much he’s struggling to keep himself together. You want to rush towards him, wrap him up in your embrace and put the pieces of him back together. You also want to give him space if that’s what he needs right now. So you settle for something in between. You cross the floor and hold out a hand, giving him an invitation, a choice- and watch as he takes yours in his and starts tracing the lines across your palm, trying to calm himself enough to speak. His breathing is so unsteady, like he’s holding back tears.

“I can’t disrespect his memory by behaving so recklessly. It’s not becoming of anything that he stood for. He wanted freedom, and I loved him so much that his dreams became my own. He died fighting for it, for this future of free will and peace, and what did I do? I created myself in his very image and kept fighting. I rearranged the very earth with the power that came from my grief. I took life. I… I took many lives. Everything I’ve done since… I did it all in his image.”

Guilt is a hell of an emotion, with its way of eating away at you from the inside.

He’s still tracing the lines across your palm, over and over like he’s trying to memorize them. It’s easier for him to speak this honestly when he has something else to focus on. You slowly bring your other hand up and begin to ghost it along his arm, from shoulder down to wrist and then back up again. His thoughts continue to spill out.

“I have a very bad feeling that he wouldn’t be very proud of the things I’ve done. I mean- it’s been so long, how can I even be sure that he wouldn’t hate the person I’ve become? I was a wisp when he knew me, and now I’m this God that’s done so many things in the name of freedom that I just… I-I don’t know if the ends justified the means.”

He looks up and to the side, still unable to meet your gaze, and you watch fresh turquoise tears pool in his eyes.

“What if I could have done things differently? What if I had thought clearer… and taken more careful, controlled steps on the journey to freedom? How many lives could I have saved from becoming casualties of the storms I created? What if…”

His voice cracks on the last word and you pray that he doesn’t notice the tears threatening to fall from your own eyes. He takes one more shaky breath and looks directly up, speaking his final question to the heavens as much as to you.

“What if all that I am is a storm?”

Feeling something akin to relief from the weight of his long-unspoken worries being lifted now that he’s voiced them, he lets himself fall forward into you and you immediately reach out to catch him. He cries into your shoulder, and you bring one arm down to circle around his waist. Your other hand reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, keeping him as close to you as possible. You don’t even need to think to find your response, the words sitting ready on your tongue, waiting to spill out the moment you part your lips.

“Barbatos, you are the breeze that carries dandelion seeds across Mondstadt, imbued with the hopes and prayers of your children. You were the constant updraft that kept me from falling when we fought Stormterror. You dry the clothes hanging out on the lines. You keep the windmills turning in their perpetual motion. Cecilias can only grow on the cliffs where your energy blows freely, without restraint. You are the oxygen that fuels the life-saving campfires that burn on Dragonspine. You bring love, and the scent of apple blossoms towards the city in the spring. You are the warm gusts of summer air that wrap around every single traveler that steps foot into this land, letting them know that they are welcome here. You are the soft whisper in the fall breeze that tells every single child of yours upon returning to Mondstadt that they are safe, and that they are home now. You carry the passionate voices of the bards performing in the street. You have carried the voices of every single citizen of this nation when they cried out for freedom.”

You have to pause and take a deep breath of your own, running your hand up and down his back, slowly, gently trying to calm both of yourselves down. He holds you tighter. His crying has slowed to a halt, nothing more than a soft and quiet whine of protest emitting from him in response to your honest words.

You aren’t so presumptuous as to think that your words can completely lift the centuries of guilt that he carries, but you’re sure as hell going to try. Over and over, no matter how many times he needs to hear it, you will be there to remind him of all of the good that continues to exist in this world because of him. To remind him that he is so, so much more than the storms he has created.

You break the silence that has fallen over the two of you once again.

“Can you look at me for a moment, love?”

Pulling back just enough to slip your hand under his chin, he doesn't resist when you gently guide him to look at you. You wipe a stray tear from his cheek.

Catching his gaze, you hold it. Neither of you blink as his watery, blue eyes look up and meet yours.

God, you wish he could see himself the way you see him. He's something far beyond holy to you.

ok sooo

ashton is shy baby.'

ashton gets fluster.

but he'll be more flustered when he sees [name] wagging their tail as soon as they see him, even just a small glimpse.

they were a weird pair for others, but they accepted it nonetheless

i mean, a wolf anima and a rabbit anima together??

but anyways, ashton was probably watering that flower again when [name] saw him.

[name] was running around trying to catch a dragonfly and stumbled, rolling around and finally stopped near a flower pot. they heaved out a sigh and rolled onto their back.

they darted their eyes everywhere and hissed accidentally looking into the sun. they covered their eyes dramatically before staying still thinking how embarrassing that was.

[name] heard pitter-patter; water, probably being consumed by soil. they turned their head, as well as their body and looked where it was coming from.

their eyes landed on the person's shoes before trailing it up, revealing ashton. ashton slightly furrowed his brows as he heard soft yet fast tapping on the ground.

[name] writhed away from the tiredness and sat up before rushing to ashton, almost ruining some flowers on the way.

ashton, stripped of his focus on the flower, focused on the hurried footsteps coming his way. he squinted his eyes before realizing that it was his significant.

he knew about their habit of skipping class, but he couldn't ever get over the fact that [name] was always open about their excitement; about seeing him.

there wasn't really anyone in the garden, but he still couldn't believe someone would be excited to see him. [name] then jumped at ashton, instinctively wrapping his arms around [name].

he sighed, a small and soft smile appearing on his face, contrasting his partner's giddy smile.

"..hey."

"hi!!"

motherfucker's a menace teasing his partner bro

but he does appreciate it, he really does

underneath his teasing demeanour, he is a really good boyfie

bro's in the kitchen when he senses [name] skipping again

[name] ditched class again, and this time, they're hungry. they felt their stomach rumble as they made their way to the kitchen. ears down, tail wagging melancholy.

they thought about siri's cooking and pouted; missing the taste of the food he cooks. sure it may just be steak, but the way he prepares it made [name] water.

as siri was messing around with the ingredients, he sensed footsteps getting closer. he couldn't care less and continued on with what he was doing.

[name] slightly wooshed their tail and accidentally made a noise, startling themselves. [name] went stiff for a second, not realizing they were already in the kitchen.

siri glanced at [name] and raised one of his brows, before thinking of something. he smoothly maneuvered towards his partner and tugged their tail.

it sent a shock and [name] jerked to a nearby wall; near the entrance; making it easy for siri to do his other thing. before [name] could even speak up, he pinned them on the wall and nestled his face on their neck.

[name]'s tail was now in-between their legs and it wagged excitedly, yet struggled as it was restrained by their own legs. they could feel his warmth breath tickling their neck.

"seems someone's excited to see me."

siri smirked before kissing [name]'s neck, kissing also, along their face. he quickly pecked [name]'s lips and grinned.

-

boogshk sabog, one request down, three more to go YEAHHHHHHHH

Soft 100%

Tbh more of a lover than a fucker

He likes holding his partner’s hand during sex, for him sex is something more intimate and loving than something just for pleasure

He’s a switch but he prefers to be on top, his partner’s pleasure is his top priority and he wants them to know he loves them and prioritizes them before him

Very into praise, mainly giving it (but he likes receiving too!)

He’s also into light bondage, mainly just tying your hands but he doesn’t do it often because he wants to hold you

Yk since we’re on the topic of hand holding, he has long fingers… (if you’re into fingering he is too)

Fav position is missionary if he had to choose, he wants to see your face when he isn’t covering you in kisses and having his face in your neck

If you aren’t doing it in missionary it’s probably spooning

If he’s the bottom he looks lowkey beautiful (he always does in my opinion)

He doesn’t make that much noise, just some shaky breaths and small moans

PLEASE be loving with him like he is to you, he doesn’t wanna be mean to you so please be kind!!

Also he gets easily flustered when he’s teased, especially in public

He can tease you easily he’s very smooth with it- like he legit asked you to dance with no shyness at the ballroom

He’ll whisper a dirty thing or two in your ear before continuing whatever he was doing like normal

But when you tease him it’s completely different, he starts blushing but he does his best to go back to being chill

Since I ran out of ideas here’s some short headcanons for the aftercare

He probably read about aftercare before you guys did it

He has some water and snacks ready for you so you’re well taken care of + a towel to help with the clean up

After he’d prefer to hold you close he’s a very loving person

He also loves being held please hold him he needs more love 😭

orter madl is a bad person. he was born to be. his entire life was a cycle of left hooks, knife throwing, and gunshots. from an early age he was bound by orders and loyalty. he was raised to lead, raised to be the top in the game. show no mercy to your enemies. be the best.

everything orter does is for the suffering innocents, his family, the organization. he has to do it, even if it goes against all morals. he can’t afford to make mistakes. they’ll hinder him and ruin everything he’s worked hard for. that’s why he shouldn’t get close to anyone. attachments and emotions weaken. they mess with logical judgment, and orter would rather die before letting his emotions make decisions.

yet orter couldn’t stop himself when he got to know you, the clumsy person who spilled coffee all over his suit. he hadn’t meant to, but it was like being a moth to a flame. he sought for you, and you invaded his thoughts at every waking moment. orter wanted nothing more than to see your face, to grasp your hand into his, and to press his adoration for you onto your lips.

and that in itself–that love–would be his downfall. your entrance into orter’s life sparked a long chain of events that brought complications onto the organization that never existed before. he should’ve seen it sooner. he could’ve ended it sooner. but that’s what emotions do. they blind. they’ve blinded him for far too long, and tonight, he’ll finally put an end to it.

hours into the night, orter arrives at the empty warehouse where you’re being kept. he wears a mask over his feelings as he passes by underlings who offer their respects to him. he’s ushered inside. orter spots your figure seated in the center of the wide space. a flurry of emotions surges through him, causing him to order everyone out despite their protests.

orter sighs, taking steps closer to you, becoming more aware of your current state. your hands and legs are tied down to the chair. bruises dot along your skin, and cuts bleed from your lips and forehead. the light in your eyes has gone dead. you stare into nothing.

it pains orter more than any beating he’s ever received. he wants nothing more than to untie you, find a med kit, and clean your wounds just as you always did for him. but he knows he can’t, so he has to tighten his fists, make his knuckles turn a blinding white to hold himself back from caring for you.

he takes the seat across from you, saying nothing despite the mess of sentences bouncing across his mind. you finally pick up your gaze, keeping quiet. no words are exchanged for what feels like hours.

orter’s mask is slipping, cracking ever so slightly as you catch glimpses of confusion, anger, sadness, and nothing all at once. you manage to not betray a single emotion.

orter caves, breaking the silence with a simple question. “why?”

you bite the tip of your tongue, deciding on an answer before you speak incorrectly. “because I had to.”

“had to-” orter cuts himself off with an inhale, rubbing a hand over his face as he abruptly stands. frustration sprouts across every vein in his body. he scoffs. “do you even know what you’ve done? do you know what you’ve cost me?!”

you glare, nose flaring, finally conceding an ounce of emotion. “people are dying because of you! it is my job to stop you.”

“you just don’t understand.”

“understand? understand what?!” you cry, voice ringing through the empty room. “what else is there to understand, orter?!”

orter flinches, unsettled by the abhorrent you carry towards him. it’s unlike you. no. that was never you. it was yet another lie you had fabricated. there’s no point in making you try to see his point of view. there was no way for you two to see eye to eye. it just couldn’t happen with your backgrounds. that doesn’t stop him from trying anyway.

“do they brainwash you over there?”

“don’t be ridiculous.” you scoff.

“the people i’ve killed,” he begins. “do you even know what they did?”

your teeth clench.

“kidnapping, blackmailing, murder, robbery, trafficking, and the list goes on and on and on. they are making people suffer, and it is my job to stop them.” orter echoes your words as a spit to your face. “i know you know it too. deep down you’ve always known.”

“you’re lying.” you deny ferociously.

“the government is enabling them by turning a blind eye. you’re enabling them.” orter declares, pointing a finger at you.

“stop fucking talking!” you scream, voice cracking. you let your head fall, chest rising and falling.

orter doesn’t know what to do. it’s eating him alive, tearing his heart layer by layer. is it possible to get you on his side? but who would trust you? can he still trust you after everything?

“just what are you waiting for?” you eye him, speaking in a quiet voice that’s laced in defeat after minutes of tense silence.

“what?”

“you know why you’re here, orter. finish the job. stop wasting time.” you tilt your head back, daring him.

“y/n-”

“finish the fucking job.” you repeat, seething through pauses, enunciating each word so orter can comprehend the message.

the provocation causes orter to pull his gun on you before his brain can think otherwise. it’s aimed square at your face, yet you remain unafraid, having already accepted your doom.

orter hesitates to pull the trigger. the weapon shakes in his hand no matter how much he tries to steady himself. he has to end this. he has to. orter needs to let your relationship end like this—in rage and hate. but he can’t bring himself too, because there’s a part of him that hopes.

“was any of it real?” he asks, gripping tightly on his gun.

you know exactly what he’s referring to. maybe that’s why you answer quickly with a confident “no.”

that should’ve been enough to make orter finally squeeze the trigger, to finally put a finish to your life, but he stalls longer, taking you in, memorizing each and every line on your face. he sees your beauty even in moments before demise. he takes a step forward, pressing the tip of his firearm to your head, using it as a chance to be near you.

the trigger tightens and tightens to the point where orter thinks he’ll follow through, but the sound of your voice makes it loosen. he drops his aim to his side.

“i can’t tell you that it was real,” you state, and orter begins to see your eyes glaze. each syllable of your following words break. “because if i did, then that would mean you would be right.”

you finally break down, your facade shatters. fat streaks of tears stream down the skin on your cheeks, and you lower your head, letting them fall onto the floor.

“if i told you it was real, then i would have to admit that my year with you has been the happiest i have ever been.” you continue between chokes. “and i can’t let it be real because that would mean that i hurt you again and again and again for no reason at all.”

orter hates your anguished cries. he would give everything to the heavens to make them stop. he can only tighten his strength onto his gun.

“i have to tell myself that it isn’t real… because doing so makes it easier to deny the fact that i love you. and i love you so much, orter.”

orter reacts in what seems to be record time, pressing his lips onto yours with a passion that could set the world on fire. every unspoken word of his is poured into your mind as you move in sync with him. for this one moment, you both forget who you are. the government’s top agent. the leader of a revolution. those are mere titles squashed beneath your foot as you kiss orter with all the love you have yet to return to him.

orter’s hand finds the familiar skin of your face, stained with blood. he commits that warmth into memory, and when you finally pull away to breathe, he loses himself in your irises, examining the details that he grew fond of.

neither of you dare to go for seconds because you knew that if you did, then you would both abandon everything, your responsibilities.

so orter straightens himself up, bringing his trembling hand to hover his weapon centimeters from your forehead.

“do you have any final words?” orter forces out, bringing himself back into the cold, ruthless leader he’s supposed to be.

you grin softly. tears still soak your cheeks. “i’m so sorry. i wish things didn’t have to be this way. maybe, just maybe if we get another chance, we can live the way we wanted, and i could keep bringing you those stupid cream puffs from that bakery we love.

you inhale. “thank you for bringing my heart joy, orter madl.”

a single wet tear drops from his eyes as a familiar string of words escape his throat. “i adore you infinitely, my love.”

orter can feel the next words that bubble on your tongue, and you break out into an even brighter, toothy smile. “is that so?”

he seals his eyes shut. the trigger pulls. a shot echoes through the warehouse. the chair falls back with a clatter. orter doesn’t dare to look. if he did, then there would be nothing stopping him from letting your blood soak the threads of his clothes, screaming your name so loudly that it could reach the heavens.

orter storms out of the warehouse, allowing his subordinates to take care of the rest. and when he's finally alone, orter breaks down. his cries ring through the night. his hands bleed from countless punches he slams onto the floor.

orter madl doesn’t make mistakes, but he made the mistake of loving you.

yet he would do it again.

every single time.