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When you find yourself trapped in someone else's body, there's only one way to survive; play the game. Resist the smothering madness or submit to it? The choice is up to you; but be warned. One wrong move and you may just find yourself six feet under. {choice based Diabolik Lovers story}
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Ajax was the psychopath hiding behind the mask of the neighborhood’s charming golden boy who ran errands for the community with a radiant smile.
Lumine was the girl who sent him to prison for murder.
Childe is a reserved, calculating man, concealing his thirst for blood behind the mask of a young, rising executive at the nation’s largest bank.
Lumine is the woman who wants to send him to prison for murder.
Except she gravely underestimates how unfair the world truly is.
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What kind of psychopath wishes for death?
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From the Sword Blooms by Maleficar, TeaAndSconesx
Fandoms: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)
31 Oct 2025
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Childe takes a deep breath, a steadying breath, and his chest catches. No wonder the secrets hurt so much. No wonder the betrayal cuts so deep. He knows exactly what this is. What he’s feeling. He should’ve expected this. After all those dinners, those shared evenings, the stories told, he should’ve expected this.
Rubbing idly at his chest, he deflates, some of the anger sputtering out into dying embers. Most of it, really. It’s hard to stay angry when you know the truth: that you only feel so hurt and betrayed because you love so deeply.
Love. What a joke.
After the final battle with Osial, Childe and Zhongli find themselves separately facing a similar affliction of the heart.
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He wants to wreck Zhongli, wants to suffuse Zhongli with so much pleasure that he never considers another lover, that Childe is written into his soul beyond even death, until erosion takes him except for the memory of Childe touching him, tasting him, carving him into the shape of his love.
Levering himself up, he looks down at Zhongli, Zhongli who loves him, who cherishes him, who lets him touch with hands so grasping and hungry they’re almost cruel. He should be gentle. He knows he should be gentle, but, tonight, with permission, he cannot help himself. Cannot slow himself down—does not want to.
After rough play leaves Childe unsettled, Zhongli reassures him with his steadfast love.
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Zhongli loses himself in the back and forth, the trading of blows and the rhythmic collision of Hydro blades against his polearm. There is a duality of magnetism to their violence, each of them pressing and relenting, ducking into and around each other as they look for openings for bloodshed.
Zhongli draws first blood, his blade sliding across Childe’s shoulder, slicing into the gray fabric of his jacket. Red blossoms on cloth. Speckles the ground beneath their feet. The sound Childe makes is agonizingly sweet. It settles like warm syrup in Zhongli’s gut.
Zhongli and Childe spar together.