AU where everything is the same except I know what happened to Idrila. THEY conflicted with another Aeon and was consequently cursed. Idrila suddenly disappeared and reincarnated as two halves of a whole destined to torment each other.
One half, Argenti, felt empty, mindlessly wandering across planets. He had always been drawn to Idrila, thinking THEY may be the key to his happiness. As the other half, you felt similarly, but instead held an intense aversion to the Aeon.
Sparks flew when you finally crossed paths in the way a hammer strikes bruised metal. Where Argenti felt whole, you were burdened by the threat to your peace. Where he stepped forward to catch even a graze of your skin, you vehemently shrank away from his touch.
Only when you both accept each other can Idrila rise once again. However, this ‘couple’ was doomed to a carousel of endless chase, forever ignorant to the truth.
What's stronger, our love or the law? (it's the law)
In a reality where the authorities are competent and actually arrest your Yandere. After a good few years, you decide to visit him in prison and get some closure.
Warnings: SELF HARM, Boothi*, one gets worse and the other gets better, they genuinely hit rock bottom
Characters: Argenti, *oothill
I refuse to let the Yandere Argenti tag die. RIP Gallagher fans though
Argenti
Argenti would definitely be the more artistic inmate. He's writing love letters and scrawling your imagery everywhere to the point that practically everyone knows who you are. When the guards confiscated his pencil he resorted to a more grotesque medium. The next day the entire prison reeked of metal. Why? Because this psycho pulled out his nails and clawed his skin raw just to continue his artistry. It seems he'd rather die than forget your face.
That and because you refused to meet him for the longest time. When he was first arrested he was in a deep, calm denial that you'd come to your senses and fix everything. But as days passed he grew more antsy and frustrated - not at you, but from having no outlet for his intense longing. Your painted features would grow disproportionate. He began regurgitating the same lines over and over until every page looked the same. It was as if his brain was in a state of decline. And if anyone were to engage him in a conversation, suddenly every topic was related to you.
Then came the day you finally returned. You were taken aback by his scruffy appearance and jagged scars, though he was careful not to touch his face. He still had to make himself presentable after all. When he first set his sights on you he immediately burst into tears and lamented the time lost, almost breaking into a soliloquy. However, the moment you spoke he fell deathly silent, latching onto your every word as if it was the last time he'd hear your voice. It probably was.
If you decide to release Argenti, he's rushing through the door and squeezing you tight to the point you'd fear that your eyeballs would fall out. Scold and threaten him all you want, but you'd never hear an apology come out his mouth. Despite staying years in that cell he never learnt his lesson, still thinking that what you have is sacred, bound by the blessings of his Aeon. He'd play along the first few months, just enough for you to lower your guard once again. It's only a matter of time until you realise that some things never change.
On the other hand, if you leave him to rot, he'd be in a much worse state than if you never came at all. He'd start neglecting himself and hunch over the floor, scrawling every insane thought that came to mind. Some homicidal, others just depressing. All extremely illegible to everyone else. Eventually, 'Idrila' would become interchangeable with your name, and he'd find himself praying to a mortal instead of a deity.
Boothill
Boothill is another beast entirely. Of course he's taking every chance to blitz past the guards towards sweet, sweet freedom. Unfortunately this always lands him swaddled in a straitjacket. Unlike the knight, he'd actually collaborate with the other inmates and try to escape. Although he won't hesitate to threaten or even drop anyone who gets in his way. He's been in too many prisons to fully trust others.
With how he curses your name, others would think that you were the one who killed his family. God forbid anyone else insult you though. The last time someone tried that the guards found him jawless in the restroom. However, whenever Boothill was alone, he'd take out your picture to stare at your frozen smile. What little comfort it gave him was soon replaced with molten anger and he'd pocket it again. This cycle repeats every night without end.
When you finally visit, it's a competition of who can successfully rage bait the other more. Boothill would be endlessly snarky and obnoxious, making sure each shift of his body rattled the booth. So what if you never visited again? You'd be meeting in person no matter how long it took. However, one word of you moving on and the smile would wipe off his face. Despite venting his anger, Boothill would come out the exchange feeling emptier than before.
If you had the bright idea of releasing him everyone would look at you as if you had bricks for brains. Boothill’s not complaining of course, although he’d still want his get back. Unlike Argenti he’s extremely clear about his intentions and would stay stuck at 100% until he realizes that you won’t actually leave. After a good amount of time had passed, he’d finally feel comfortable falling into some sort of ‘normalcy’ and leave you in a tucked corner of the universe to pursue his revenge. However, one bad day is all it would take for this fragile trust to shatter and for him to relapse into old habits.
If you left him, he’d genuinely pin your picture as if you were a hit. Boothill’s motivation would dwindle with each failed escape attempt until he’s swallowed by apathy and numbness, similar to when he’d first awoken from that operating table. With each day blending into the other, he’d dig under his metal plates and pinch the wires, savouring each shock just to ground himself. If he closed his eyes, he could even fool himself into seeing the static as your silhouette.
End
These are kind of depressing ends in captivity. So, canonifanonically, they are put through rehabilitation seeing as they’ve both ‘calmed down’. After extensive treatment they’re deemed sane and are released back into the wild. But some wounds don’t fade into scars - they reek and fester with disease, smothered under layers of bandages.
The next time you meet is not a coincidence. You can be sure that they’ve learned their lesson - just not in the way you hoped.
Warning: fade-to-black banging at the end, betraying day ones, lack of self respect
One rainy evening, a knight spied a beggar slumped on the temple’s steps. He rushed to your side in worry while you merely stared in awe. What left your chewed lips weren’t pleas for hospitality, but a rather peculiar request:
“May I paint you?”
As someone who spent his entire life bowing at his God’s feet, it felt utterly addicting to be the one viewed through a reverent lens. For the duration of your stay, he became the sole subject of many portraits.
After much encouragement you entered the artistic world through an art exhibition. You proudly showed the knight off as your muse, savouring the jealous gazes of your fellow artists who were overshadowed.
Despite all this, you weren’t happy with the attention Argenti was receiving. Jealousy flared whenever he smiled at courtship efforts. You buried your feelings, convinced that he didn’t reciprocate, and began distancing yourself.
Unbeknownst to you, the knight also felt similarly. Fearing that you were losing interest in him, he visited your studio to talk things out - only to see that someone had already taken his place, with you observing him with the affection you once held for Argenti.
The knight stalked your new muse through the night and struck up a conversation with his usual amiable attitude. Although wary, the other was quite open and eventually revealed that you were both in a secret relationship.
In disbelief, the knight’s restraint collapsed. Only the moon bore witness to his sin.
The next morning, you were setting up your tools when your muse finally arrived. Your startled upon seeing Argenti instead. Despite the serene smile, his eyes were dull with bags, and he opted for loose clothing rather than intricate armour.
Argenti frowned when you rejected his advances and asked whether you truly felt nothing at all. You confessed that you had loved him once but already moved on. He swallowed back bile and pinned you to the desk, insisting that you try loving him again. You once again demanded that he leave before your actual lover arrived.
The knight suddenly admitted that your lover wasn’t coming. You didn’t need someone else on your canvas. You didn’t need to search further than the man in front of you, who loved you earnestly when you had nothing. Tears rolled as he bore his naked heart to you.
Out of desperation, he slid your hand under his shirt and relished your cold touch. The desk creaked as Argenti towered over you, offering himself in full to your intense gaze as he’s done many times before.
His unmarred flesh was yours to ruin. Love and bruise him as you wish, until his nerves were numb from abuse.
Years after your escape, he unexpectedly finds you harbouring a child.
Characters: Argenti, Sunday, B*thill
Warnings: child endangerment, children as tools, child abduction, toxic ‘family’ dynamics, every child is biologically his except Booth*ll’s, pretty vanilla
kids are terrifying bro they’ll turn on you for a billion pounds and an actually fun parent
Argenti
Your kid would certainly find him weird at first, and although Argenti would be surprised by their remarks, he’s awfully endeared by who it reminded him of. Watching him interact with his spawn was like watching someone try to lovingly bait out a cat. Regardless, he’s keen on gifting them all sorts of trinkets from his travels, taking note of what they liked and exploiting it heavily.
Before you knew it they both began alienating you. Eventually, you and your kid blew up into an argument while the knight silently observed with feigned worry. When they ran away in tears Argenti stopped you from following, taking this moment to finally have a proper conversation. You resisted at first, but you were so desperate for your kid’s trust that his pleas didn’t seem so unreasonable anymore.
In the end you reached an agreement; Argenti was free to step in as a father but not as your husband. He could be at their sporting events yet couldn’t loop his arm around your own and call you his. Nevertheless, he was happy to be back inside your world, even more so upon receiving looks from others when you emphasised that you weren’t together despite him treating you so dearly.
He picked up every chore, every event you had to miss, and provided financial support - only to suddenly disappear one day. Your life grew harder (having become overly reliant) and your kid kicked up hell. When he finally returned, he didn’t make a show out of your struggles, yet you could feel his satisfaction when you didn’t protest his intrusion. As if a period of weakness proved that you still needed him.
Sunday
Although Sunday resented you for depriving him of the magical pregnancy months and early years, he’s more than eager to rectify that by giving you another child once this blew over. How he convinces your child depends on their gender (very sexist).
If it was a girl he’d be a lot more upfront about whisking you both away like some kind of fairytale. A few photos of Penacony and your little girl was pleading to visit. All of a sudden you were the bad guy. The villain in the way of her true happiness. What do you mean she wasn’t allowed to meet her superstar Aunt?
Now, Sunday wasn’t one for abducting children, but how could he say no to her pleading face? At the crack of dawn he’d get a screeching call from you demanding that he return your child, to which he told you to come get her yourself. Haven’t you had your fill of independence? Now it was time for you to return back home, your real home, as a family.
However, if it were a boy he does a little something called ‘projecting’, instilling his ideals until your kid was the one barking about keeping you safe. Children are terribly impressionable and Sunday did an excellent job twisting the narrative. Suddenly, you were no longer the trusted adult the kid looked up to. Sunday was.
It was as frustrating as it was terrifying. What little control you had was squashed under Sunday’s thumb, and he was well on his way into grooming your child into his second pair of eyes. And with him already preparing the boy to become his successor, your futures only became more intertwined.
Boothill
Who’s bratty kid is that? Did you bang someone to get back at him? Despite his frustrations he’s big on keeping conflict behind closed doors. A kid is a kid after all, and he couldn’t help but notice your mister not in the picture. The cowboy eagerly assumed the role and would taunt you about your unfortunate choice of lover. Though he assures you that he’ll gladly split the dude’s skull if they were to ever meet.
Well he’s admittedly not much better as a father. As a criminal, he’s constantly forced to lie low and be on the run. He would drop in from time to time and whisk your child away on a PG adventure, retelling embellished stories and just showing off. While they may not replace his own late kid, he found these outings therapeutic and almost forgave you for getting knocked up. Almost.
Along with his sneers, you also had to deal your kid constantly gushing about him. You were haunted by how it came to resemble him more everyday. The first time your kid imitated his western speech you had such a visceral reaction that they locked themselves in their room and refused dinner.
Your kid became a rebel, getting into all sorts of trouble and frequently getting injured. Whenever you pissed Boothill off, he’d rope the kid into some danger and bark with laughter at your reaction afterwards. Boothill wasn’t enough of a bastard to put the child into ‘real’ danger; it was just to remind you who of actually held the reins in this patchwork of a family.
In a cliche turn of events, you die to death and isekai into your favourite dating game. Ecstatic, you’re eager to romance the scrapped bachelor, only to quickly realise there was a reason he didn’t make the Final Cut.
Before his planet got annihilated, Boothill had a hobby of carving tiny wooden sculptures. The first time he only managed to make a blocky ‘bear’ out of spare firewood. His old man laughed at his lacklustre attempt and sat him down properly to teach him.
Even after moving out he still carried his father’s knife and made those fugly figures, now of his boys rather than critters. This little hobby died down as he grew occupied with protecting locals and dealing with thugs.
Then came the first death. Boothill wasn’t allowed a moment to grieve, channelling all his rage into suppressing the rival gang. His anger failed to settle when the dust had long cleared. Tears were shed and hats tipped. A grave dug and flowers laid. Yet still Boothill remained an overflowing kettle.
So he fell back onto old habits, carving his late friend’s memory into nature itself, daring her to forget his being. By the time the others checked up on him, failed sculptures littered the floor with the creator numbly hunched over on a stool. His hands were torn red from miscuts.
This line of work was cruel and unrelenting. Many more of his brothers fell, and in turn, Boothill’s palms became riddled with splinters and callouses.
He was in the midst of cutting them out when he was interrupted by disapproval. The cowboy looked up to see a stranger (visibly from a big city) admonishing him. In turn for prying them out, he directed you to the nearest town, though he couldn’t help asking why you bothered downgrading your lifestyle.
Your story stayed with him even after dropping you off at the inn. Perhaps it was because you were a fresh of air in his turbulent life that he began to frequent that town in hopes of running into you.
Boothill taught you all about country living, from how to shiv groping men to riding horses, even pulling a few strings to land you a comfy job. Despite their close relationship he didn’t tell his friends about his budding love. You stayed his little reprieve.
With how you fondly treated him, Boothill was confident that you felt the same. He could practically hear the wedding bells already. However, they crashed and burned when he witnessed you with another. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one with a secret.
His safe haven began slipping from his grip. He replaced your smooth hands with rough wood, carving your likeness and hiding it away in his pocket. When stressed, he’d run a thumb along the edges and pretend they were the dips of your knuckles, though the relief would sour with the reminder of your misplaced affections.
Come one chilly morning. Boothill was returning from a successful hunt atop his horse when he realised your lover coming the opposite way. At first he merely grit his teeth and passed by, only to do a 180 and trot beside him.
Conversation was dull. The man’s muscles were clearly underdeveloped and awareness lost. If Boothill were to draw his gun the other would be none the wiser. Wasn’t that an appealing thought?
Nonetheless, he bid his time and dug into the man’s love life, hoping to lift the bark and reveal writhing maggots of perverted intentions. All he found was pure devotion. Boothill almost spit out the bile in his throat at the mention of marriage.
Your lover was so engrossed in his own ramblings that he hadn’t noticed the cowboy stopping. Nor did he see Boothill reaching down, past his holster, to grab the lasso.
The man’s neck snapped with a gurgle. His body snagged on rocks and back tore into ribbons, leaving a smear of red in the canvas of snow.
With both hands and feet bound to rocks the corpse sunk in a lake. It was discovered the next day by a travelling merchant.
You were broken from the news. Boothill murmured comforts while you sobbed into his shoulder. His hands were shaky, not from the shock of taking an innocent life, but the thrill of having you all to himself.
The cowboy was unrelenting in his pursuit. Every memory you once shared with your deceased lover was replaced with Boothill, Boothill, Boothill. At first he respected your grief, however, his patience thinned when you insisted on displaying that man’s portrait. As if he’d ever let that homewrecker’s face in your shared home!
Your face twisted in confusion. Fuck, that really was a strange thing to say, wasn’t it? You soon realised the true meaning of his words and backed away in fear. He hated it. He hated how your love so quickly fell apart after he meticulously stitched it together.
Pinning you down was the easy part. He’d taken on plenty of ruffians. Tracing your soft skin with his knife while you begged for mercy shook his resolve. But he couldn’t have you running into another man’s arms, could he?
He took a deep breath and began carving.
That night haunted him even now. Although his blood now pumped black and hands wiped of scars, he could still feel the ghost of your body coated in blood.
As he strolled through the forest he would stare bitterly at the families accompanying their children. Once their voices faded, he slipped out his knife and dug into the nearest tree.
The cuts were jagged. Friction akin to flesh. Instead of vague figures he engraved those same initials again and again until they could be mistaken for a scripture. The IPC would soon realise this as a marker of his presence but he couldn’t give less of a damn - even if you end up being his own undoing.
For abandoning his morals in the name of love, he knew that when his time came you’d await him at the gates of hell. He could only hope to burn in the warmth of your rage once more.
Luocha is the most evil man in hsr I can feel it in my bones (99% chance of being wrong)
Warning: you don’t need those legs, do you?
Take a GANDER as to which movie inspired this
While I don’t think he’d go so far as to make you a potato (no one in hsr would lol), he’d have a lot of fantasies about it, especially when you piss him off. Mainly because he likes you being wholly dependent on him. But who knows, since he’s a healer it’s not like you’d be permanently disabled (trauma aside).
Scary part is you wouldn’t know a thing about it. Whenever you fight he’d wear a thin smile as if he’s not dreaming of you pain. I don’t know, I feel like he’s really into violent non-sexual intimacy. Holding your head against his chest as he digs a thumb into your wound, loving when you helplessly writhe in his embrace a he tightens his grip. Like how people love seeing their favourite character in absolute misery.
Sunday probably has something similar except with a saviour complex. He likes the idea of comforting you rather than actually causing you pain. Still toxic as hell though.
But hey Luocha’s body’s kinda tea though so it’s not all bad
Office AU where Argenti is the new colleague you have to supervise 😏
Warnings: infidelity, abuse, OOC
As you grew closer he began treating you fondly - much more than any normal colleague would. One thing lead to another, and on the day he officially became independent, he confesses despite you already being married.
At first you declined and even considered reporting him to HR. However, things were rocky with your husband and you eventually accepted Argenti out of spite. Both of you knew the nature of your relationship, but Argenti still held hope that you’d leave your husband to make things official. You feigned ignorance as his delusions grew stronger, liking the attention your husband failed to provide.
Then, one day, your husband had a change of heart and demoted himself to a more relaxed role. All for the sake of reviving the dying flames of your marriage. No matter how Argenti tried to pit you against him, you spent less time together until you inevitably ended the affair.
When Argenti kept harassing you for a second chance you promptly changed departments. After you blocked and avoided him like the plague, Argenti only found himself craving your presence even more; visits to your department lead to following you back to your car, escalating to following you everywhere. Soon the items you forgot at his home faded in scent and he took every opportunity to snatch things from your desk.
But those tiny trinkets just simply weren’t enough. Before he knew it, Argenti began sneaking into your house when no one was home. He loved and hated how comforting yet alien it felt, courtesy of your husband’s ‘inferior’ tastes. He couldn’t even lie on your bed without being reminded of that man. Argenti swallowed his bitter jealousy until he saw the approaching anniversary marked on your calendar.
He really, really didn’t want you to hate him. But how was it fair that you get to move on while he suffered in your absence?
It was easy convincing your husband of the affair. Almost as if he was waiting for an excuse. Your marriage must not have been as secure as you thought. But don’t worry, Argenti would never treat you so cruelly.
He’d never drag you by the hair. He’d never beat your delicate skin purple. He’d never throw you out so callously with only the clothes on your back.
As Argenti gently ushered you into his arms, he smiled despite the utter ruin you were in, taking his sweet time proving that you were still loved - even if you continued to spit on his affections.
Perhaps this time you’ll be smarter and choose the right man.
Historical AU where you’re one of the King’s many offsprings with Argenti as your loyal knight.
As your late mother was of low status, you were allocated to a bare bones residence with little to no security. Every servant and maid you had were either incompetent or opportunistic thieves, which is why Argenti took it upon himself to tend to your every need.
Having been born to a peasant family, he deeply empathised with your situation. Despite being a prodigy in combat, he’d been repeatedly underestimated, and it was no mistake that you were given someone who your family deemed you to be on the same level as.
What he couldn’t understand was why you were content with this treatment. Sure, you didn’t have to worry about assassins, but your jewels were fake and room much outdated. Not to mention the occasional bullying you’d face from your half siblings. And that wasn’t even touching on what a brilliant mind you had.
In his eyes, you were a much worthier candidate than the shallow heirs who drained Royal funds on beautiful yet meaningless parties. The contest would be brutal, but Argenti was willing to put his neck on the line if it meant a chance for you to assume your rightful place on the throne.
You, on the other hand, had no interest in it whatsoever. The mere suggestion had you berating him for such foolish thoughts. That was perhaps the first time he saw you as… less than the idyllic person he thought you were. A bright mind yet weak resolve. It was a shame.
So, for the first time under your command, he disobeyed you.
While you slowly starved from your thinning allowance, Argenti schemed his way up and left to work for your half sister - your main bully.
Of course you felt utterly betrayed. You could forgive him for wanting a better life, but of all princes and princesses, why her? Him giving you the cold shoulder and never visiting only added salt to the wound. From then on, pouches of money would appear on your doorstep. Perhaps from guilt. You donated it all to the poor.
Perhaps the final straw was when she’d approached to gloat about stealing your most precious jewel. When she kissed him, you almost pinched yourself from disbelief. And Argenti, ever so obedient, simply smiled with his lips her colour.
When he was finally alone, Argenti wiped off the impurity with sheer disgust; how dare she touch what was not hers. How dare she even think you weren’t worthy of more.
Argenti would love to say he gained his position through pure business, however, he was never one for political games. Thus, he relied on his ethereal beauty to… capture the interest of the princess. His features that once drew foul attention was now his ticket to ambition.
For too long did he have to endure her perverse touches, and for too long had you been neglected to skin and bones. Which was why, the moment he spied an opportunity, he struck with all the rage and contempt he held in for you both.
It was a beautiful experience, from the tingle of his skinned knuckles to the crunch of bones singing a delightful tune. By the time he exited her quarters in nothing but a blood soaked robe, he didn’t know whether he was doing it for you or for himself.
You were the last of the Palace to realise the massacre, what’s more, you walked in on him humming while scrubbing the floors. He eagerly greeted you on one knee as if he weren’t the portrait of madness.
His angelic, white hair was drenched in a bold red and his glimmering eyes so full of awe trembled minutely.
Your coronation was witnessed by the whole Kingdom. Having felt your kindness first hand, they welcomed the abrupt usurpation with open arms.
You had no enemies. No superiors to mock you into submission. Yet that night was first time you forwent sleep. It didn’t help that the cause of all your troubles insisted on guarding you throughout. He reasoned that it was for your safety.
But did safety include him caressing your now full cheeks while you feigned sleep? Or persistently helping you dress despite access to an endless supply of servants? It seemed that even after achieving his goal he was still unable to be honest with you, or rather, himself, as he treated you with as much reverence as a deity.
Everyone else seemed to know what was best yet wholly relied on you to make important decisions. You never wanted to be responsible for an entire kingdom. You never wanted to be treated as anything more than an ordinary person. And with such heavy expectations all too suddenly, you soon buckled under the pressure.
So you fled at the dead of night after drugging Argenti to sleep. The Kingdom was in uproar the next day but you were already long gone.
For a week you settled in a remote village under a new identity. Although skeptical at first, the villagers warmed up once you proved your worth. Each day fell into a comfortable, mundane routine and you began enjoying life again.
One day, while reading indoors, there was a commotion outside. With a lack of things to do, there was bound to be some petty squabbling. What you didn’t anticipate was a knock on your door.
Not wanting to be suddenly dragged into drama, you first took a peek out the window to see who it was.
A familiar red stopped your heart. Argenti’s once dull, green eyes livened when they met yours.
If I became queen running away would be the last thing on my mind let me tell you that 😏
Warnings: Ashveil might be a bit OOC because I know nish about him
Argenti
When you were at your lowest, Argenti was the one to guide you towards Idrila, becoming a formidable Knight of Beauty. Despite working alone, he insisted on mentoring you until you could walk on your own feet.
The question was if he would ever deem you ready enough. Although you carried a talisman and diligently polished your armour, he knew that the tether between you and his Aeon was fragile, held together by none other than himself. He surprisingly didn’t mind. In fact, he took pleasure being a reliable pillar in your life. The only one.
Which was why, while visiting a particular planet, Argenti was unsettled when you began pondering a life outside him. No matter how much he spoiled or coddled you, his influence slipped and you inevitably returned the talisman. Of course you still kept in touch, but no longer did you look to him for validation or comfort.
As shameful as it was he abhorred the happiness you found. Argenti made it clear that despite being a traitor you could return anytime. Anytime at all. The real meaning was not lost on you and he was denied at every turn.
By all means, he was supposed to kill you by now, and if any of the other knights were to catch wind of this they'd surely put you out of your misery. Nonetheless, Argenti kept making excuses on your behalf. To him, you were merely lead astray during a trial Idrila had so cleverly entrapped you in.
Then this must be a test of wills. As your mentor, he had the responsibility of correcting you, no matter how deep you dug your heels. This included giving some tough love by challenging you to a duel. Since you were out of practice you straight up refused. However, he gave you no choice by striking first.
The outcome was predictable with you flat on your back. Argenti offered you a hand but you slapped it away with full disrespect. You gave him a piece of your mind, criticising him for not respecting your wishes and abandoning his integrity as a Knight.
Of course he didn't take you seriously. Not when, in his eyes, you were throwing a tantrum like a giant child. He merely picked you up and stole you away. All the while he reassured you that this was for your own sake and that you'd thank him later for it.
It didn't matter that he'd have to start again from square one. He will build you back up, and you will learn your place in this world. It wasn't with those people you thought of as friends, nor was it in the planet you called home. It was with him.
He swears on it. Not on Idrila, but as his duty as your companion.
Aventurine
There wasn’t many who could bear the duties of a Stoneheart. There was even less who could endure your high expectations. Which was why it was such a shock that you and Aventurine were close, even more so that he was actively courting you.
In truth, you were both in similar positions, unable to escape the claws of the IPC. You often went out as drinking buddies to complain about everything yet nothing at the same time. From the numerous vows you made to escape, Aventurine never believed you could (at least not without him) until a notice called for your arrest following your defection.
While you were MIA your department nearly fell into ruin, but Aventurine couldn’t care less about the IPC’s wellbeing, opting to join the manhunt despite skepticism from his peers. With your abundance of wealth you did well to hide your tracks. Unfortunately, Aventurine had no qualms using dirty means to undo your hard work.
When he finally found you again, he didn't immediately confront you nor alert the IPC. Instead, he observed your new, mundane life with a hint of envy. No longer were you the cold Stoneheart but just another ordinary citizen earning their keep. Although, he had to admit, he much preferred you in luxurious attire than cheap cotton.
You were sat on a park bench when he suddenly joined you as if this was another of your hangouts. Aventurine slung an arm around the bench and crossed his legs, making casual comments while you struggled to comprehend just what the hell he was doing here.
Seeing as any attempt at a calm conversation was out the window, he cut to the chase; he really, really didn't want to hand you over to the IPC on a silver plate. Although, he couldn't just turn a blind eye either, not when he's invested so much.
Thus, he proposed a little game: if he bested you in three coinflips, you'd become his personal assistant and keep your right to life. On the other hand, if you won, he'd give you a generous running head start. Hardly fair, but if this life had taught him anything, it was to always spin things in your favour. No matter how deplorable it may be.
You knew him too well to agree. However, the moment you stood up, a gun pressed against your back. An IPC lackey was poised to shoot if you so much as took one step. He wasn't the only one either, as you noticed others milling about amongst unsuspecting civilians.
Aventurine merely smiled and gestured for you to sit back down. His face lacked any warmth, instead taking a sharp edge he reserved for interrogations.
So, heads or tails?
Boothill
For earlier collaborations, Boothill didn't care much further than your shared desire to see the IPC burn. He always saw you as that hard-headed ranger who charged straight into danger and he respected that whole heartedly.
He didn't know when he began confusing camaraderie with something more. Eventually, you were practically inseparable, and even your wanted posters were displayed together. The fact that you were one of the more elusive of his peers was the cherry on top of his entitlement to you. That is, until you finally completed your revenge.
With the whole IPC on your tail Boothill thought you'd stick closer than ever. However, you wanted nothing more than to settle down, feeling lost and exhausted now that you had 'nothing to live for' anymore. Wasn't that a stupid thought, he was standing right there!
True to your reputation, you disappeared with frightening ease. Boothill found himself making more mistakes on solo missions, too used to you covering his weak spots. Working with others was out of the question as it left a bitter taste on his tongue.
He knew it was illogical but he couldn't help resenting you for abandoning him. If he were in your position, he sure as hell would've stuck it out for you.
When your capture made headlines, a tinge of amusement hit him before it was quickly smothered with disgust at himself. Despite the department responsible for your arrest being unrelated to Oswaldo, he busted his ass making the trek, leaving a massacre in his wake.
Any and all snarky remarks died on his lips when he saw your miserable state. Seeing your once untouchable body utterly mutilated woke an unbridled rage in him while also casting you in a different light. No longer were you an equal, but someone he had to protect.
One building-blown-up later, you were splayed on a table as an IPC healer worked their magic at gunpoint, courtesy of the cowboy. You and Boothill ferociously argued about next steps, your relationship, and grievances with each other. Eventually, you hit a nerve upon admitting that you saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.
The ranger fell silent. Once the healer finished their task, Boothill shot them without thinking twice. He leaned over to wipe the blood off your pale face. The tender action was spoiled by him tearing into your naivety: you only came so far because of him. It was high time you returned the favour.
You were in this together, whether you liked it or not.
Ashveil
The rivalry between the two detective agencies was well known among locals. Your frightening efficiency swallowed assignments like a black hole, and in his early days, Ashveil had to snatch up whatever low paying ones you rejected.
Now that you were on somewhat equal standings the competition was in full swing - however, it was not as reciprocated as you thought. On your first meeting you were surprised by his rather impulsive nature. The hot-shot you conjured up in your mind shattered when you treated him to drinks. Of course the bill fell on you.
Although, there was something off about him; it was as if he saw right through you carefully constructed façade, like a wolf sizing up a fox encroaching on its territory. How much did he really know? That was a mystery you weren't keen on solving.
With how he tested your boundaries by invading your space and getting personal (even jesting that you become partners) it was abundantly clear that each interaction was artificial, designed to draw you out for whatever purpose he had in mind. Whether he was onto you or not was irrelevant. You needed an out.
And so, overnight, your agency was uprooted, leaving an abandoned office for sale. No goodbyes. No prior warnings. Gone, just like that. For a few weeks you were able to breathe easy - managing a criminal organisation on top of everything was no small feat, after all.
You assimilated into the new area with ease. Smaller agencies were quelled and you had an easier time doing business. However, you couldn't help but look over your shoulder and hold your breath from time to time, feeling as if the shadows you left behind were stalking you. It was a while before he completely left your mind.
One night, after returning from a gruelling negotiation, you froze at the threshold - there, keenly scanning over documents nit-picking his every action, stood Ashveil in the dark of your own house. Him being flattered by your ‘admiration’ did little to ease the tension.
He waved off your threats of calling the police, instead yammering about a recent assignment that caught his attention. You stayed rooted to the spot as he leisurely approached until he was a mere breath away. Ashveil confessed that he hit quite a stump in the investigation and that he needed another brilliant mind to help connect the dots.
Just a simple case of finding someone. A criminal leader notorious for distributing contraband yet always evading law enforcement. What's more, they seemed to have moved their operations elsewhere. Ring any bells?
Ashveil had you cornered with no where to run. No doubt he’d been collecting evidence to back up his claims. Reaching the limit of your patience, you asked if he was here to gloat at having bested his competitor. The payout would be massive and he’d never worry about clients again.
But that’s not what he wanted. Not at all. You came to realise this when his eyes met yours with a carnal hunger.
And like a lamb at the mercy of a wolf, what else could you do but comply?
Yandere polycules crack me up. Just imagine being in an intense one sided relationship with a possessive guy, and he introduces you to his friend who he acts suspicious with, before revealing that his friend wants to get into your pants as well. And somehow the first guy isn't mad? In fact, they bond closer over being freakishly obsessed with you. Absolute insanity.
So then you're stuck with guy one trying to get you to soften up to guy two, who keeps trying to woo you, all the while they smooch right in front of your virgin eyes and enjoy time alone together. Personally, I think I'd see red at the utter irony.
Sick scenarios - except they're the ones with a fever. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
Characters: Argenti, Sunday, Jiaoqiu
Warnings: genuinely just crack
Argenti
As gorgeous as he was, his clammy, pallid skin ruined the illusion of perfect health even when he carried himself firm. His voice boomed strong, and apart from stifled coughing, anyone would've been none the wiser.
Then he dropped. Hard. It was difficult to tell whether the fever or fall took him out first.
For a moment, with gleaming delight, you saw red pool under his head and rejoiced at the thought of him splitting it open - unfortunately, that was merely his hair.
Despite his unconscious state, the hand holding yours was like an unbreakable vice. No matter how much you picked at his fingers or straight up stomped on his wrist it was all for naught.
In the end, you had to drag him out the way and wait until he awoke. He suddenly came to with a frightening gasp as if he had just watched his Aeon fall. You both stared at each other for a while in disbelief before he profusely apologised and fixed himself.
Argenti continued as before, and as expected, almost fainted again. He very intelligently came to the conclusion that he should rest, not because of his own health, but because you were pretty banged up from it too. Completely ignoring that he could fix that by simply not latching onto your hand.
In this state he was uncharacteristically self-conscious, pleading you to look away for something as simple as a quiet sneeze. Argenti was utterly convinced he looked ghastly despite the mirror saying otherwise.
While he was arguably having the worst time of his life, you were lying in wait for the golden opportunity. Having stopped at a hotel, once he was in deep sleep, you crept up with an unplugged kettle ready to splatter his brains into atoms.
The nanosecond you brought it down, everything went black, and you woke up bundled in the bathtub with the door locked. Unfortunately, he forgot you had a mouth and you began screaming like a banshee, waking up the entire hotel. A poor oversight as you both got kicked out without question.
The One and Only was infinitely less comfortable, so much so that you regretted causing a scene. Not only was it cramped, but it forced you to lie down with your shoulders digging into each other, and as Argenti was a giant, that meant your head was pressed against a wall no matter how much he curled in on himself.
At least he wrapped a towel over his head as a poor replacement for a mask. You had suggested sleeping on the seats instead, however, he didn't want to risk you trying to pilot his ship yourself.
The day ended with you lined up like the deceased, and the next started with him wrapped around you like a cocoon. To your utter dismay, when the towel slipped from his head, Argenti appeared to have made a full recovery.
The true horror started when you realised you couldn't breath from your nose anymore.
Sunday
By all accounts, it doesn't make sense. He was pretty meticulous with his health, so the minute his eyes burned and throat scratched he went overkill with medication. Somehow it only made it worse.
Naturally, he blamed you, so strongly in fact that you were 'grounded' for just breathing. As much as he wanted to power through this illness, it was as if his head was screwed on backwards and he was forced to be bedridden.
He absolutely hated being a burden and potential danger to others, not to mention disgusting, which was why he decided to suffer alone and refuse help from even his sister. To say he was one foot in the grave by his own doing was a vast understatement.
Of course, now that the servants were free, they now monitored you instead. Because why not? It's not like you were beginning to like life again now that he was absent.
Although they were ordered to keep you inside, you managed to convince them to at least let you roam the halls. As expected, every door was locked with them trailing at your heels. And that bird. That damned bird.
The only room that was unlocked was his. You barged in without knocking and was immediately chastised for crossing the line; the man had genuinely quarantined his room, what with everything wrapped in plastic and marks on the floor dictating the allowable distance.
A white, translucent fabric cloaked his bed, obscuring his figure into an ominous shadow. Oddly enough, he was touched by you visiting him, mistakenly believing you had come out of concern. This delusion was shattered when you told him to die quicker.
And, realistically, what could he do but shoot back nasal retorts? He utterly despised you becoming drunk with power and grappled for control by ordering you out. Obviously, you refused, enjoying invading his boundaries for once.
While you sadly couldn't bludgeon him to death, what with his sweaty servants a mere step away, you could absolutely make his day worse by, let's say, chucking his plants out the window and sloppily rearranging pictures.
Sunday tried giving you the silent treatment. Key word: tried, because he immediately broke it when you messed with the bed fabric. It was then that he threatened you with a harsh punishment but you didn't care.
Eventually, the servants had to drag you out. Sunday was finally able to somewhat relax and wither away alone. However, the longer the silence droned on, the more horrific thoughts haunted his sleep: why was everything so quiet? Had you calmed down, or were you planning something? Did his staff betray him?
They gnawed at his sanity until he caved in and demanded you back. As expected, you gave him hell again, and what brief relief he felt was soon replaced with sharp irritation. You'd scorn each other, Sunday would send you away, he'd grow paranoid, and you were ordered back. Rinse and repeat.
You weren't stuck with him, he was stuck with you.
Jiaoqiu
Ironically, despite being a doctor, it wasn't unusual for him to fall sick from worry over his patients (or rather, his general with a death wish). This frequency only increased once you stepped into his life.
As such, he's had many lessons to learn from his feverish times, like shutting off the gas and binning the diffuser. It got to the point where he'd sense a sickness coming and plan everything accordingly. Of course, and he says this with extreme fondness, you'd somehow find a way to ruin them every single time.
Today was no different. You insisted on cooking and plopped a none-hearted soup with a single potato and rubbery chicken. A plastic smile stretched your cheeks when he picked up a spoon, and he lethargically pat your hand thinking you must have tried poisoning him again.
But no - you had stuffed coriander into his chicken. You sneaky, brilliant, spiteful little thing. Some leaves were still stuck between his teeth.
However, there was one thing you couldn't ruin, and that was his love for 'clawing the shit out of your hair', as you so elegantly put it. Your scalp was like his own stress ball if stress balls were rock hard and brought stress instead.
Before sleep, he barely kept himself grounded enough to slather unscented oil on his hands and completely destroy your hair's oil balance. Even when he's on the brink of stepping into the afterlife he enjoys spoiling you. It didn't matter if you looked like you hadn't showered in a decade afterwards.
Unfortunately, you begged to differ and constantly fidgeted as if a beetle had crawled up your ass. Once he's had his fill, Jiaoqiu nudged you away with a huff and you bolted towards the shower to rinse off all trace of his affection.
The first day was the gateway to ruining his life. Once you fumbled that chance, the following days would give you much less space to act out; although his fever would last longer than most, it was the sort to quickly decrease in dramatics and remain as a slight hindrance.
Very quickly did the dynamic correct itself with you being doted on as per usual. He didn't even bother using a mask anymore, secretly hoping that you'd fall ill soon after.
He pretends it's just wishful thinking, but in truth you're in more danger than you think. While your back is turned he's touching all of your belongings and reducing the nutritional value of your meals. All very minor things that add up into an explosive fever for you.
So now you're both a foot in hell. Except one has built up a resistance and the other is drowning in the consequences of poor lifestyle choices.
The worst part? He acted as if it was all your own doing. That bird you nursed earlier? Must have been riddled with diseases. Oh, it was raining today? You must have gotten a cold from opening the window very slightly ajar.
And as for your troublesome behaviour, he's about to return it tenfold, overbearing-lover style.
Argenti can be quite overbearing with his glazing so just imagine him with a crush who doesn’t take compliments well for whatever reason.
Your friendship used to be amiable until he became lot more heavy handed with the flattery as his infatuation deepened, so much so that people mistook you for a couple. Obviously, it had the opposite intended effect and pushed you away.
Argenti thought you would, eventually, buckle under his sickly sweet gestures until he saw you happier with others who treated you as far less - more than you ever were with him.
He knows he should respect your decision should you part ways and follow your future lover, but every instinct is screaming for him to act against the very discipline ingrained by his late mentor.
Like petals from a rose, his restraint wilts little by little with every stone you wedge between you. It won’t be long until only thorns are left.
How unbecoming of a knight.
I miss my big princess. My googoo gaga. When is he coming BACK
Warnings: Boothill is genuinely a victim, Luocha is genuinely insane, everyone’s a loser
All three stories link to each other so read them in order 🥹 pls
As one of the island’s investors, you frequently visit the park and happen to capture the hearts of three (THREE) men. Unfortunately for you, they have unsavoury methods of vying for your love.
Boothill
A dino handler who took care of the raptors from birth. You grew close after showing genuine empathy towards the creatures, a stark contrast to the flippant way other investors treat them. You both started dating after the raptors’ successful debut and even made your relationship public on social media.
Unfortunately, tragedy struck when the raptors suddenly became aggressive and mauled Boothill. It was thanks to your quick thinking that he lived to get transformative surgery on his body, however, he was barred from ever stepping foot on the Park again.
Generous compensation was gifted but he could care less, especially since you’ve cut off all contact. Consumed with frustration, he stalked your every move, whether online or in reality. His daughter kept asking why you abandoned them, and it took everything in him not to throw away the ring you would’ve worn by now.
The last straw was when you flaunted your new relationship with the heir online. All traces of your past with Boothill had already long been scrubbed off the internet but he found himself shooting retorts in the comments anyway. His account soon got banned.
Well, if you insist on acting untouchable, then he’s got no choice but to yank you down from your high horse. Boothill disguised himself and entered the island under a new identity on your Birthday, which you always spent at the attraction.
When he found you, he pinned you down with questions, growing increasingly irritated at your stunned silence. You finally cracked when he mentioned the ring and a wave of satisfaction hit him. Your squirming only encouraged him to hold on tighter. For how he was treated, the least you could do was start crying.
Besides, you never broke up with him. Not really. So why don’t you be a good lover and make up for lost time?
Sunday
The heir to Jurassic Park. You both met at childhood since your parents were already friends. Growing up, Sunday found himself enamoured by your sense of freedom and lived through your active lifestyle. It took a while for him to realise that his feelings didn't stop there.
From Gopher's encouragement, he tirelessly courted you, yet you kept refusing him. This caused a rift in your relationship. Sunday became insecure of his own shortcomings and sunk into a toxic cycle of 'improvement' even without his father's input.
And then you started dating the handler who planted unsavoury ideas into your head. Sunday loudly disapproved, stoking your ire until it erupted as a red handprint on his cheek. He decided to snip the problem at the root. Without Gopher's knowledge, Sunday ordered the head researcher to procure an aggressive drug.
Once done, you finally quietened on your agenda. Sunday hid all evidence of foul play and granted the handler generous compensation, but it was you who barred him from the Park out of shame and guilt. You couldn't even bring yourself to visit. Sunday seized this opportunity to forcefully enter your heart again.
The next time he confessed, you accepted with a still heart. He was sure that he would win you over eventually. However, his confidence was shaken on your Birthday when he saw the handler corner you. It was clear your feelings hadn't waned and the familiar claw of jealousy tore at his chest once more.
The two men confronted each other with clear hostility. In the end, it was you who broke the stalemate by urging your ex to go home and forget about you. Sunday triumphantly smirked at his seething opponent who kicked up a fuss.
He knew that, in the end, you’d come to your senses. He just wished you’d stop entertaining those unworthy of your time. But before the ex could get escorted out, the speakers blared of a sudden containment breach.
Luocha
The head researcher. You met by chance during Luocha's off hours while you were admiring an exhibit. Initially, he wanted to curry your favour, but realised too late that he wanted to be more than another connection. By then you were dating the handler.
He was already busy with illegal trading, and with bitterness soiling his work, he found himself behind on deadlines. After a late shift he overheard your argument with the heir about better treatment for the dinosaurs. From then on he served as a willing outlet for your vents and nailed the wedge between you deeper.
One day, Luocha convinced you to let the handler demonstrate the raptors' sentience to the heir and you agreed. What you didn't know was that he conspired with the heir to cripple your boyfriend. Even though the heir now hogged your time, Luocha had already planted seeds of resentment. All it needed was a trigger.
Luocha stepped away from the love triangle to work with a competitor interested in sabotaging the Park. The plan was simple: 'accidentally' release an experimental dinosaur and let it kill enough visitors to bury the heir in debt and shame.
But Luocha didn't want to just tarnish his reputation, he wanted to make it hurt. He convinced you to accept the heir. He advised the man as if they were friends. He was even guaranteed an invite to the future wedding. It all made the researcher seethe, but he was nothing, if not a patient man.
When Luocha noticed your ex arrive at the Park gates, he discreetly ordered the guards to let him pass, pretending as if you had overturned the ban. An unexpected variable, though a welcome one. He had already drawn up plans to keep you safe. For the other two? Quite the opposite.
Luocha promised you a birthday gift like no other. A chance to start over and choose better. He hopes you'll take it.
Warnings: romantic decapitation and mutilation (does it still count if he’s a clanker), unhinged Sunday what’s new
In which Boothill refuses to settle down. Sunday acts accordingly.
Then in the evening, Sunday returns to that private room and recounts his day while braiding loose wires. Perhaps tonight he’ll join his slumbering lover’s handcrafted dream.
