#there's like details to it that makes it worse than it already sounds but

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟖

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: light smut, angst, language, sexual tension, teasing

Word Count: 5814

A/N: English is not my first language.

This is inspired by the song 'Remembrance' by Memoria Futuri.༊

Your fingertips reached out the eagle symbol as your hands moved over the hard plate on his chest while you remained seated on his lap. Soldier Boy continued to watch every move you made. As the minutes went on, his grasp on your stomach grew softer, and you started to question your ability to truly influence his thoughts over Cate and other things. You hoped you would be able to go back inside his heart and that he would be able to love you without missing the times that you were reluctant to remember.

You wanted to make things right because you felt a strong draw toward him, even if you weren't sure how.

You were cool with it if he wanted you to Temp-V so he wouldn't force your mind to surrender you to the merciless hands of another Supe. You were obviously anxious to discover your dynamics with him, but you must have done it many times with him. You were curious about how he treated you in bed. The idea heated your cheeks. 

As if sensing it, he remarked in a playful tone, “What are you thinking now?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Just us.”

Your answer warmed his heart. If he couldn't remember every detail of the times you had spent together, he would say it was deja vu. But you were back on his lap, telling him that all you could think about was him and you. You sounded precisely the same, as if you were deliberately recreating that same moment, so he wondered whether he was right to think that you were different. But all memories were forgotten, and here you were in his arms. 

You made an effort to approach him more closely than you had previously, and you inquired, “Are you okay too, though? Instead of focusing on finding Cate and forcing me to recall things, considering extending my time.”

He said, “On one condition.” His hands seemed softer now, like if he could pull them back at any second. 

“I already accepted taking that thing you mentioned, Temp-V.”

“There is one more,” he said with determination. His expression was serious. 

“What now?” You sighed. He was constantly asking something more.

“If you can't remember a single thing in a month, you will agree to get help from Cate.”

You instantly said, “No way!” and were irate that he hadn't even given you six months. You had doubts; he cared about your feelings much. “You're being cruel. Let me have four months.”

With a tone of rage, “Fuck no,” Soldier Boy tightened his hold on your body. “One and a half.”

You sighed, seeing how quickly he was growing furious. “You're asking too much from me, you know.” There was something different about his rage. 

“How it's too much when I want the woman I loved to come back to me.”

The way he utilized the past tense made your body tense. Your mood fell as you realized that, despite your best efforts, there was still some distance between you. Your palms touched the eagle symbol on his chest and then went gently down to the belt, which had a star symbol on it. Soldier Boy felt regret after realizing what he had just said, but instead of offering an apology, he said nothing that would have made you feel even worse. 

You were reaching out to him, and he was reaching out to you, but your efforts were going in separate directions. Why did he find it so difficult to accept you as you are? Was the difference between the old and new you really that much? You questioned if you were really that annoying.

You muttered, “Give me three months then,” without responding to what he had just said. There was a hint of disappointment in your voice. It was difficult to control how you were feeling.

With annoyance, Soldier Boy examined your face and inhaled deeply. “One and a half. That's all I will give. Discussion is over.”

“No.”

“For God's sake,” he murmured in frustration. You began to become enraged with him for his impatient manner since he was being so persistent. At least he could acknowledge some of your decisions while you were being so kind, even if he didn't like your new version.

You scowled and tried to get to your feet to break free of his hold, but his hands stopped you with ease. Soldier Boy drew you closer to his body with a serious look, saying, “Stop moving.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders and said, “You stop being a stubborn asshole.” Then, with a rapid motion that brought your body even closer to his, you gasped, “Ow!” as his iron belt hurt your stomach.

Soldier Boy instantly released his hold on you. His expression was one of perplexity, as though he hadn't realized what he was doing. You questioned how you managed to stay with him for so long given how harsh he was and had such a temper. 

“Language.” With a hint of irritation in his tone, he playfully responded, “Show some respect to your man. That's what happens when you don't listen to me.” He replaced your body back on his lap. He looked over your stomach and raised your t-shirt a little higher to see if you were hurt. It burned a bit, but there was just a slight scretch. 

For a split second, you felt like a foolish young girl because of your excitement at his remarks. “I wonder how I survived with you,” you muttered once more as you stopped physically battling with him. Soldier Boy's fingers lightly touched the small mark on your stomach, giving him a disappointed expression, yet his expression was serious on the other side. “I should have been with a regular man who would respect my choices.”

He got frustrated that you brought up being with another man instead of him and remarked, “Watch your mouth,” as he let your t-shirt fall in a rough manner. “Respect the decisions you've made? A man is a pathetic and useless pussy who can't fix anything if he just lets go of everything when his woman experiences memory loss.”

“Or?” you said, trying to lighten the mood by lightly teasing him. While you were still on his lap talking to him about your future together, you realized it wouldn't be a good idea to argue with him. “And I'm not something to be fixed. You must know how thick your skull is.”

With a little smile, he studied your face and body till your cheeks reddened. You tried to get away from him slightly, but he held on closely. You stiffened up as his fingertips continued to linger on your skin and gently moved into your t-shirt. 

“What were you saying? Now, what happened? Do you need me to remind you of the other thick parts of my body that you found most pleasing?” Soldier Boy inquired, a sly smile playing on his lips. It was apparent that he was enjoying your response to him. You could feel the hardness of him beneath his suit as he rubbed your body against it. His mouth was so dirty that it made your cheeks flush crimson.

You whispered, “Don't change the subject,” without saying anything more. Your pussy had other plans, even though you tried not to stare at his massive member beneath you. “Will you allow me enough time? Four months seems like a reasonable amount of time.”

“No way.” He said it in a more controlled manner this time. You knew he was briefly looking at your body as his hands and fingers caressed your skin and held you tightly to his body. There was desire in his eyes; you could tell that.

Instead of disturbing you, though, it unexpectedly thrilled you. It seemed as though there was a magnetic pull between you or that your bodies were attempting to reunite in a more intimate manner. 

“That would be enough, and it benefits you the most,” you said. 

He arched an eyebrow at your refusal, chuckling. “In what ways will it benefit me?” Then Soldier Boy took a serious attitude, although it was clear that he was amused by your attempts. 

You stated, “If I don't love you back the way I had loved you in the past, you can tell my emotions were fake or something.” Even though you knew it was a cheap move, you still felt like you had to try it. 

The look on Soldier Boy's face shifted, as if he gave it some real thought. You might sense there was a brief moment of little lack of confidence if you didn't know how much he knew about himself. Nonetheless, he was undoubtedly the most attractive and powerful Super. 

“I know you love me already, and when you said you did, you said it sincerely.” There was no debate after his sharp remarks. “It doesn't matter if you remember or not.”

You dared to challenge him even though it wasn't a smart move. “How can you be so sure, and why so stubborn if it doesn't matter?”

“Because I can tell when you are lying. They are not the same thing,” he replied. 

With a cunning appearance on his lips, he watched you cautiously as your hands slid gently over his suit. You could have chuckled at how patient he was now, in spite of his intolerance only moments before, if you hadn't felt his hardness beneath you. 

You posed a lighthearted question, “Can I change your mind a bit?” You wanted him to be unconscious of how much this was fun for you, but you both were into playing a little. There was an overpowering need for discovering your balance with him. 

Your hands returned to his shoulders after carefully grazing each and every inch of his suit. As he stared at you and did nothing except hold you close, you felt a kind of joy emerge in your chest. Soldier Boy was the one who was closest to you and was willing to let you do everything you wanted to do him, even though you had known Butcher and the other guys for a very long time. You knew it was different with him.

“I'm not sure. You have to give it a try,” Soldier Boy grumbled, returning his hands to your hips. “You must know I'm not very easy to convince.”

“I see that,” you winked at him. At least you knew just how stubborn he was without needing your memories to return. However, you were equally determined about pursuing what you wanted. 

Soldier Boy couldn't resist chuckling when he saw how much you were already enjoying. For a little while, you felt as though you knew him as well as he knew you, and everything between you was normal. 

You said, almost in a whisper, “I want to bargain,” shifting slightly on him despite the fact that your cheeks were burning. If he acted more stubbornly and pushed you away, you would be quite embarrassed. 

To your astonishment, though, his hands kept stroking your hips—only more forcefully this time. Instead of harming you, he was once again showing his dominance to you. 

When you noticed he was considering it, you asked again, your cheeks heated, and you started to move on him a little. “Can we negotiate?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, seemingly disconnected from what you had to say, and instead he stared at your body. 

That's when Soldier Boy turned to look at you. His eyes were staring at you intensely. You trusted him when he said he missed you. You were there with him, comfortably seated on his lap. You weren't uncomfortable or anything even a day ago. It just felt right to be with him.

Soldier Boy smirked and gave you a quick ass squeeze. “Show me what you can do to convince me,” he urged. Although your eyes became wide, you were determined not to allow Cate to touch you and fuck your brain's balance. 

You weren't sure how far you would go without Temp-V at the time, and you didn't know how much he would go far. You had at first wanted to speak with Butcher. But there has to be a way to get him interested enough. 

You shifted slightly on his lap, one hand caressing his neck and hair, the other gently touching his huge bisceps. Your lips parted in surprise and desire as you felt his erection under you. Even though you had both stated that you were not interested in having sex before you remembered him, here you were, unable to get your hands off of one another as if you were meant to be together forever. 

You remained motionless, yet your lips were almost in contact. All you could do was stare into his eyes. He continued to hold you, the mock on his lips disappearing as his hold on your hips grew stronger and stronger. 

“How about...” you muttered. “Four months?” 

“Fuck no,” he responded, giving you a firm squeeze to move on him. 

To give you adequate space, Soldier Boy widened his legs a little. As you moved, you could feel his hands tightening around your thighs and his breathing becoming heavier. The strength difference between you made you a little uneasy, but you would have told him the moment his touch began to hurt. 

He suddenly said in a stern voice, “I should have fucked you on that table,” urging you to continue. Although there was quite a barrier between you and his pants, it didn't stop you from getting pleasure. 

Your body and cheeks became flushed from embarrassment, but you persisted and stated, “Give me four months.” 

You could never have agreed to let some other Supe get near you and screw your mind even more. 

You gasped in shock when Soldier Boy ignored what you had said and put a firm grasp on one of your tits through your t-shirt. He had hands all over the place. By the end, you weren't sure if you would be the one to get what you wanted. All of his focus was on his own needs.

“Feel how much you still make me hard, baby,” he muttered on your neck, pressing you on his stiff cock more thoroughly. “We haven't been this way in a very long time. I've so fucking missed watching you move on my cock.”

Longing was present in his final words, along with a lot of yearning. Though you tried to dismiss it and concentrate on the present, you couldn't help but feel a type of sadness tightening in your chest. Though you hoped you missed him just as much as he did, you showed no signs of this feeling. It seemed as though you had never separated. 

At that moment, you found yourself willing to play the game he needed.

In an attempt to give him what he truly desired from you, you hesitated before placing one of your hands on his and making him squeeze your ass firmly. 

“How much did you miss me?” you asked, meeting his gaze directly. Though your lips met his, it was not a kiss. His lips and touch were warm. 

It would be great if you knew his name, but though you tried so hard, you could not recall. You hoped that you had forgotten Butcher's instead.

Soldier Boy's lips began to lick your neck and throat. “So fucking much,” he moaned. It was evident from the way he moved underneath you that this was making him harder than before. 

Between gasps, you proceeded, encouraged by his reaction to your touch and words, “Will you give me four months?” His grip on your hips began to ache a little, but you bit your lip to keep the moment from being ruined until you had what you wanted.

He groaned, “Don't stop,” as soon as he noticed you were moving on him more slowly. His finger was lingering around your trousers and giving you little bruises. You tense up, thinking he's going to rip them off, so you tried to get the speed that Soldier Boy needed.

“You did give me a good hand job there, didn't you?” He let out a moan as you struggled to maintain the same pace. You made an effort to loosen his hold somewhat with your hand, but he didn't seem to be listening. 

“Given how long it's been, you would let me fuck you raw right now, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you allow me to fully fill your tight pussy and fuck you from behind till you can't move?” You eventually whimpered as Soldier Boy tightened his grasp on your hips and murmured into your ear. 

“Careful!” His hot kisses on your neck were so passionate and intimate that you felt yourself losing yourself in the moment with him as you moaned in pain and stroked his hands to calm him. 

He said, “I'm not even using force; relax,” as if he were at the end of his tolerance. It was impossible to determine if he was very aroused or enraged. Most likely, he had no idea how powerful he was. You came to the realization that using Temp-V was a wise decision. It was risky to be with a supe like him since you never knew if he was aware of what he was doing. 

His lips captured yours with desire, allowing you to slow down and ultimately release his hands from your hips without allowing you to say anything more. You felt a bit more at ease once he released your hips. 

You said, “We need to calm down,” in between kisses. You gave him softer, more tender kisses in return for his fierce, heated ones. It was absurd that you felt safe getting closer to a man you had only met the day before.

Soldier Boy was not your boyfriend; he was a stranger in fact. Someone you couldn't remember. But your heart knew the right path. 

He moaned, “Can't get my hands off of you,” kissing you this time with care and desire. “Fuck, I need to be inside you right now.”

“But I didn't take Temp-V,” you murmured hurriedly. It was difficult for you to make predictions as to how you did it because you couldn't recall your private moments with him.

“So?” Not sure what you were hinting at, Soldier Boy stated in a querying tone.

You muttered, “I don't know,” struggling to find the right words. “How.. we used to do it.”

“Do what?” he repeated, but this time he was smirking.

You stopped him and said, “Don't act like an asshole,” but his rough hands were already on your hips once more.

He kissed you hard and briefly in between talking about your attitude, saying, “The first thing you must remember is that'respect' for sure. And yes, we did it many times without Temp-V or anything else.”

You've been rubbing yourself against him and quietly panting. You just whispered, “Hmm.”

Once more, Soldier Boy gained complete control over your body and forced you to rub up against him while murmuring, “You wouldn't believe how many times I've fucked you without Temp-V.”

As gentle fingers ran through your hair, you muttered, “Was it good enough for you?”

“Perfect,” Soldier Boy responded with honesty.

“Protection?” you asked once again. It was difficult to comprehend what kind of power imbalance there might be between you and Soldier Boy during such times. He wasn't even aware how hard he grasped your hips until you warned him. 

“No,” to make it short, Soldier Boy's brought your body as close as his as he possibly could. You scowled as you saw his expression change. His voice had lost its tone of amusement and had become harsh. 

“Why?” 

“I'm a supe. There's no way I... could get you pregnant. Our DNA's are built differently.” Oh. 

Expressing verbally, a sort of rage entered Soldier Boy's heart. He couldn't recall the last time he had given an explanation for his inability to complete something. Even if he didn't intend to have children at that moment, it hurt his pride as a man to be unable to get you pregnant. He repeatedly filled you in a single day and continued to do so for months, but you were never able to conceive.

You said, “Okay,” in a whisper. Though he had made it plain, he did not explicitly state that the reason was that you were weaker than him. You were unable to overcome the anguish that was around your heart like a glass.

You couldn't stop thinking if the person you used to be had any plans to have a baby with him. You were startled that the thought didn't even slightly worry you as your mind raced with images of you, Soldier Boy, and a tiny baby. On the contrary, it kind of excited you. But it looks like the concept would remain a far-off fantasy that wouldn't ever come to pass. 

“So,” you began, hoping to get the conversation to go somewhere else. Your hands hesitantly touched his chest, then his iron belt, making contact with the star sign. “How about our negotiation?”

“Two months,” he said emphatically, as if nothing could make him reconsider at that very moment. 

If you weren't sitting on his lap while he stared at you longingly and with anticipation, you would have giggled at his inflexibility. You wanted to take some time and give it your all, even though you were aware of his earlier statements that he wouldn't love you in this way. 

You reached between his legs with your hands down. You could feel him tensing beneath you as your palms found his hardness through his jeans. He began to loosen his hold on your body when it became too tight since he clearly didn't want to harm you. 

“Two months is not enough,” you told him, lightly stroking his hardened cock with your palm against his trousers. 

With a swift moment, Soldier Boy shifted your positions and with an escaped gasp on your lips, you were under him, on the bed. He gently pushed your hair from your face and placed himself between your legs. Your eyes widened with surprise as he took your hand and put on his cock, making you to rub him through his pants.

Neglecting your words, Soldier Boy said, “Take it out.” He was already waiting for you to do something. “Now.”

Excitement flooded your body, so you followed his orders. After giving him a few more rubs to torment him, you unzipped his pants very slowly to get him more thrilled, though messing with a Supe wasn't a smart idea. 

“I thought you didn't want to touch me until I remembered everything,” you stated. “Why did you say it if you didn't mean it?”

“I decided to change my opinion, and why not? We used to bang five times in a row,” he snapped back. He truly never felt embarrassed over anything. Your body became hot when you attempted to figure out how you could take him so many times. 

You whispered, blushing at his bold remarks, “Don't you have a filter on your mouth?”

Soldier Boy said in your ear, “You should hear me when I'm inside you, swetheart,” as you finally succeeded in unipping his pants with trembling hands. You couldn't help but notice the longing on his face, his messy hair, and his hot breath. He was terribly good-looking and masculine. 

With a slight roughness in his voice, he thrust his hips toward your hand and seemed eager to continue. 

“Are you thinking about how much time you'll give me?” You inquired lightly, refusing to take him out of his suit no matter how many times he ordered you to continue. Soldier Boy shot you a cold stare right after. 

“Depends.” 

“On?” 

“Your little handiwork performance,” he stated with a brief smile that offered you his desire. 

With a hesitant smile back, your hands started to work on his pants to remove him. It was a play that you were both on. You two knew what was happening probably made you more thrilled than he was, and he would stop whenever you wanted him to, so it wasn't like he was pressuring you into doing anything you didn't want to. That was ingrained in your bones and feelings. 

You struggled to free him from his suit and were a little afraid of seeming foolish. Once some time had passed, you gave him a helpless glance. All Soldier Boy did was smirk mischievously over you. 

You said, “You could give a hand,” as your hands were a little aggressive on the material. 

“I thought that was what you're going to do.”

You surprised yourself by pulling his head to yourself and kissing him, refusing to let him torture you any longer. Thank goodness, Soldier Boy responded to your kisses instantly, and it didn't take long for his to take control and start making coarse noises within your mouth. 

You had no idea who was making louder noises or which of you was kissing each other harder. You were just aware that he was pressing you against the bed. He pulled back, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. During that moment, his lips remained on your neck, giving you a few gentle nibbles that left you whimpering.

You could feel the desire between your legs as Soldier Boy's hands frantically tugged at his clothes to get himself free. You were unsure if he would take you there.

Your phone rang in your pocket, and you realized that he was about to pull his cock out of his pants. As Soldier Boy was ready to pull down his pants, he grumbled in displeasure and halted, ignoring the phone ringing in your pocket. 

With a frantic “Oh, wait,” you attempted to shove his body away. 

Then Soldier Boy quickly took the phone from your pocket and glared at the screen with enraged eyes before letting you react. He stood up, leaving you on the bed by yourself, still gasping after the passionate interaction you had. You could tell who was calling by the way he looked across the room—it seemed like he was waiting for the right opportunity to enrage Soldier Boy even more. 

“You're a dead man,” muttered Soldier Boy as he held the phone up to his ear. “You and your worthless team.” Though it was barely audible, his voice was full of promise. 

Whispering, “Give it to me,” you hastily rose from the bed and attempted to take your phone from Soldier Boy's hands. 

It was obvious that Butcher was getting on Soldier Boy's nerves, even if you could only make out some of what he was saying. Butcher always had an ability of getting under people's skin. 

“How many lies you've told her, I don't know, but one thing is certain. You and your pitiful pets had best hide out in whatever shithole you are now in, because I'm going to kill you all.”

Soldier Boy eventually handed you the phone, ignoring everything Butcher was saying to him. As you waited for Butcher to speak, your pulse raced with thoughts and confusion, but you were at your breaking point. 

“I've called you a hundred times since yesterday,” you immediately complained. It was clear from your voice that you were disappointed. 

You paced the room, ignoring Soldier Boy as he observed you intently and zipped back his pants and straightened his suit. 

“We needed to exercise caution since he managed to catch you. Are you alright?” Butcher questioned it as if it were a common question. You were getting tired of his insensitive attitude already. 

You answered him harshly, “I need to talk to you in private,” ignoring his question.

“This is not the place for you to come. Sweetie, you'd put us all in danger.”

It was difficult to ignore the awful weight of rejection from someone who you still called friend and remembered with a heavy heart. You were aware that, for the most part, Soldier Boy was being truthful at that point. You were dumbstruck at how easily Butcher cast you aside while continuing to discuss safety.

“In somewhere else, of course,” you remarked coldly. “He will not follow me.”

You looked at Soldier Boy to see how he responded, but he was already seated and preoccupied with smoking weed aggressively across the room. Even though he occasionally sent you glares, you wanted to think he wouldn't break his promise to you. 

“Don't be so sure, honey,” Butcher sighed, unsure of how to handle the situation without putting the squad at risk by speaking with you. 

You said, emphasizing every syllable, “He's treating me good. We can meet in the house we all used to live in. I'll go there by myself. Alone.”

Butcher said, “Fine,” not wanting to talk about it any more. “Make sure you come here by yourself, baby,” he asked. Butcher owed you a conversation, even if he wasn't eager to meet you or risk running into Soldier Boy again when he really intended to kill him that much. Especially not after what he had done to both of you.

Of course, there were other topics to talk about.

Feeling relieved that he finally agreed, Butcher informed you when to meet and hang up without saying anything else. You were far too hurt to talk with him without coming out as fragile. After standing for a while staring at the screen of your phone and doing nothing, you turned to face Soldier Boy, who had already begun to drink. Then he looked at you. It was difficult to determine this time if his expression was one of hatred or rage. It was unclear if it was directed against Butcher, you, or both. 

You muttered, “I need to talk to him alone,” which gave you nothing to talk about. It was too much for you to handle.

You felt lost and alone once again.

Soldier Boy said, “Come here,” in a quiet voice. He sighed, seeing your mood drop and your smile fade. He detested seeing you so distressed and heartbroken. It would be simpler if you could just remember, but you were terrified. He couldn't figure out why.

Soldier Boy made you sit on his lap once again and gave you a tight embrace as if he could see what you were going through. Your head was on the cool material of his suit, where the eagle emblem was supposed to be. His warmth was relaxing and soothing.

You said, “He wants me to go to him alone,” hoping that he wouldn't provoke another argument once more.

Surprising you, he simply said, “Okay.”

“Just because I'm not going there with you for this time doesn't mean I won't murder him,” Soldier Boy firmly said, “He will pay for what he did to both of us. He and the others will die for that.”

You wanted nothing bad to happen to Butcher or the others, in spite of all that he had done to you. You knew you would never stay with Butcher again the moment he accepted the lies he'd told you. It did not, however, imply that you wanted his or the others' deaths. The only thing that would be lost would be trust, and that would be enough price.

You stated, “I don't want to talk about this right now,” implying that you didn't want to discuss Butcher or anybody else. You felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, so you decided it wouldn't be a good idea to tell Soldier Boy that you didn't want Butcher to die. 

He kissed your hair, and you closed your eyes with relief. He murmured, “Fine,” with a soothing voice. His roughness didn't make his arms and kisses seem unsafe.

You said, “But I can't stay here too,” keeping in mind that you would have had to see the Seven, Homelander, and their heinous deeds every day. The idea itself was dreadful. “I don't want anything related to the Seven or Vought.”

Soldier Boy inhaled deeply and remembered the last night you spent together, months ago, when everything was okay. At least your hatred for Vought and Homelander did not change. That was good enough. Although he too had no desire to interact with them, he was forced to do so due to the circumstances. For the time being. 

He continued, “We'll talk about such things later,” in a harsh voice, his hands lightly brushing your back as though he were trying to comfort you. 

“Where will I be staying?”

Soldier Boy scowled at your thoughts of living alone. “Obviously, not here.” As if he would let you go. 

With pride, he declared, “I own a place. We’ll stay there.” Though it didn't, it would have been preferable if things had gone as you two had hoped months ago. He wished he had purchased a house while you still remembered him. He would like to see your reaction.

You inhaled with gratitude upon learning that you would not be residing in Vought Tower. You could tolerate this as long as you didn't encounter Homelander and everyone. You were aware that Soldier Boy wouldn't allow you to go elsewhere, apart from him. Whatever had occurred or would happen, you had to confront it.

“Have you thought about the amount of time you'll give me?”

Soldier Boy took another look at the problem and groaned at your intransigent demeanor. He said, “Two and a half months,” playing with your hair and curling it with his fingers. “Not a single day more.”

“Make it three.”

“You are always greedy, aren't you?” He teased to lighten your mood. “Fuck it. Fine.”

“Will you tell me your name?” You asked in a low voice, realizing that you had never addressed him by name and recalling how disappointed he was when you couldn't recall it. You forced yourself to recall it till your brain hurt, but it was just impossible. You felt horrible about not being able to recall even one letter. 

You said, “Jack?” in an attempt to predict what he was going to say before he did. “Kevin? Eric?” 

“Fuck, quit saying other men names. Who the fuck are they?” He abruptly became irate and cut you off; jealousy was clearly taking over. 

“I don't know anyone with those names.” You said, playing with his possessive gaze as you raised your head to look at him. “Are you jealous?” 

“I am,” he declared firmly. The roughness in his tone made you giggle.

“You can forget everything—my face, my name, and even our memories—but you never forget that you are solely mine. You belong to me in your every version.”

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: I guess that was a filler chapter. Please let me know what you think. Comments are keep me going. ♡

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met a neopagan in the wild today and it was a psychically disturbing experience im feeling psychically disturbed is all I can say. my psyche is disturbed

[crystallinestars]

How They React to Your Death

My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.

This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.

Part 2 here.

Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.

Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.

Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism

🎧 Alhaitham

Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.

Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.

When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.

At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.

What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.

No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.

During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.

Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.

What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.

🐋 Childe

You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.

The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.

He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.

Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.

Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.

Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.

Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.

🔍 Heizou

Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.

To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?

The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.

His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.

After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.

Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.

The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.

Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.

🍷 Kaveh

Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.

A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.

Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.

The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.

Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.

Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.

It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.

Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.

Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.

🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.

Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.

Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.

You were dead.

Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.

Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.

He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.

Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.

Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.

⚖️ Neuvillette

You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.

When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.

It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.

When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.

That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.

Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.

Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.

However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.

Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.

🍃 Venti

Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.

Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.

Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.

Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.

Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.

In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.

Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.

During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.

Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.

☂️ Wanderer

You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.

Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”

He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.

Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.

He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.

He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?

You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.

Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.

It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.

Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.

Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.

Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.

🐺 Wriothesley

You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.

Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.

When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.

There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.

[her-favorite]

CLANDESTINE; M. STURNIOLO

BF!CHRIS STURNIOLO / MATT X F!READER

warnings: SMUT, dom!chris/sub!reader (soft dom!matt), MATT THE MUNCH!!!!, squirting, reader’s obvi on the pill blah blah blah, cheating?

people that wanted to be tagged!: @watercolorskyy @thepubeburgler @sturnsxplr-25

a/n: i kinda have an idea for a pt. 2 to this if anyone wants me to start working on it…

wc: 3,088

SYNOPSIS: Receiving a punishment from Chris was always brutal, but when he left you tied to his bed, what were you to do? Surprising you, an uninvited guest makes sure you feel better…

PT. 1 | PT. 2

-

“Chris, please!”

“Keep talking and I’ll make sure to gag you, too.” Chris’s voice was stern as he tightened the rope around your wrists, securing your hands above your head. Shutting your mouth in response to him, your boyfriend hums in acknowledgment. “Good girl, keep that pretty mouth shut.”

Inhaling sharply through your nose, your fingers subconsciously twitch as they beg to be freed. For the past twenty minutes, Chris has been teasing you. Lying naked in his bed, you cried and begged for him to keep touching you and let you come, but he never gave in. By now, tears ran down the side of your face, melting down into the soft pillow below your head. Wanting to speak, you try to restrain yourself because you knew if you did, he’d make your punishment worse.

“Y’look so pretty, mama.” Chris mutters, running his large palms along your legs, just barely grazing your inner thighs on purpose. A whine erupts from your throat, causing a smirk to grow on your boyfriend’s lips. Slapping your thigh, he rejoices in the loud echo that sounded in his room, as well as the groan from you. “You wouldn’t have been here in the first place if you just behaved. But you’re such a slut for me, huh, ma?” He teases, his pink lips forming a smile once he sees you nod in response. He hums, squeezing the skin that he had smacked, making the burning sensation intensify. Your back arched slightly from the pain, inhaling shakily, still trying to keep your mouth shut.

“Now, I need to go and get a few things from the store,” Chris starts, immediately revealing to you what his plan was. He ignores the way you tug at the rope, only becoming more turned on by the way you express your need for him. “And I’ll be back when I get home.” He finishes vaguely, putting you more on edge than you already were.

“No, Chris, please—!” You start, the same tears forming again, quickly rolling down your face. With one look from him, Chris’s expression shuts you up, not without an involuntary exhale leaving your lips.

“If you keep up the attitude, I’ll make you stay like this for even longer than I planned.” He threats, his eyes sending daggers into yours. Sealing your lips, you keep eye contact with him until he looks away to turn towards his door. “Patience, baby.” Was the last thing he said before shutting the door behind him.

If you were honest, you didn’t know what you were going to do. You had no idea how long he was going to be gone for or where he was even going. Tugging lightly on the tight rope, a hiss leaves your lips once you feel it burn against your wrists. Deciding against trying to escape from the harsh hold, you swallow dryly and look around his room. You’ve been in here numerous times; you were sure you could pinpoint every detail of it if asked to.

Before you knew it (not that you could tell anyway), ten minutes had passed. Already becoming impatient, your body moved on his bed, at least trying to sit up, but with your arms placed above you, it restricted your movements. Groaning softly at the limitation, you let your body rest against Chris’s comfy bed, eyes scanning his blank ceiling.

Your heart raced as soon as it heard the door open, that familiar creak sounding throughout the room. Your head shot up, immediately thinking of Chris and how he was too impatient to leave you alone for too long. But that thought quickly left your mind as soon as you saw a tattooed arm welcome itself inside. Matt.

“Hey, I was gonna—” Matt begins, clearly thinking he’s talking to his brother, before his eyes met yours, his words cutting themselves off. “Oh, fuck.” He mutters, as if he caught sight of something he shouldn’t, which he has. His blue eyes rake over your bare body, noticing the way you’re straining against the rope that held you.

Too in shock of the situation, your mouth sealed itself shut, your mind screaming at you to say something, anything. Your boyfriend’s brother is seeing you naked! “Matt—!”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did he leave you here?” His words shock you, rendering you speechless. His tone was teasing, resembling Chris’s. Letting himself in, he shuts the white door behind him, his eyes never leaving yours. Clad in grey sweatpants and a plain white shirt, a bulge already forming at his crotch.

Going dumb, you nod your head in response, your chest fastening its pace. Were you really going to let your boyfriend’s triplet brother see you like this? What kind of girlfriend would you be if you let him take advantage of you?

As if sensing your sudden uncertainty, Matt takes a few steps forward and towers over the bed, standing by the foot of it. “Relax, baby, it’ll be okay. Just let me help you.” He soothes, reaching forward and resting his big hands on your ankles, gently gliding them up. “That okay with you, sweetheart?” He asks, the eye contact he’s holding with you making you melt. Nodding in reply, the need inside of you deciding your decision for you. With a smile, Matt whispers, “Good.”

Sighing softly once you feel his touch, your heart still hammers against your chest. You knew your wrists were going to be extremely sore once you’re free from the aggressive grasp of the rope, but as of right now, nothing inside you seemed to care. His palms traveled up your body, purposefully skipping where you needed him and trailing goosebumps up your sides. “So pretty.” Leaves his lips as his hands move towards your chest, swiping his finger of your sensitive nipple. Recalling the teasing from Chris earlier, your body was more responsive than usual, desperate for more than just fleeting touches.

Situating himself on the bed, Matt leans over you as he ducks down to press tantalizing kisses against your neck. His hands glide back down your body, resting on your thighs. A smile fills out his lips when he hears you gasp once his fingers finally make contact with where you craved him.

“You’re so fucking wet, Y/N.” He says, as if astonished by the way your body reacted. His slender fingers run up your slit, gathering the wetness, falling deep into the sounds you were making for him. “How bad do you want it, baby?” Matt asks before he presses sweet kisses against your skin, trailing down your body.

“I need you, Matt. Please.” The words fell from your lips as if routine. Deep down you knew it fed into Matt’s ego, but in the state you were in, nothing else mattered at the moment. By now, you felt your body cry for any sort of relief, begging to be claimed by someone.

“You’re such a good girl, sweetheart. Chris is so lucky, hm?” Matt mutters, knowing exactly what he’s saying behind his brother’s back. The man knew what he was doing was wrong, but he just couldn’t help himself. He’s always had an eye on you, and Chris knew that when the younger brother decided to go for you as well. “Leaving you here, all needy…” he tsks before continuing. “But I can make you feel so much better than he can, pretty girl.” Matt claims, domineering eyes meeting yours.

Before you could get a word out, the air was sucked out of your lungs as you felt Matt’s warm tongue lick a line up your slit. Gathering up your legs, Matt lets them rest over his broad shoulders, savoring the warmth you radiated onto him. Cold rings made goosebumps form on your skin every time they touched you, his thumbs holding your lower lips apart as he devours you. He eats you out as if he was begging for the chance his entire life; like he needed it more than oxygen.

Moaning in return of his actions, your hands moved faster than your brain as they craved to grip onto his soft hair, only to be restrained by the irritating rope. Noticing the harsh lines on your wrists, Matt pulls back from your pussy, smiling softly at the whine that left your lips. “You wanna touch me, baby?” He asks, pressing a quick kiss to your clit, watching you nod. He hums in acknowledgment and leans up to undo the knot, letting it fall from your aching arms and onto the bed. Sighing softly from the release of the tight rope, Matt smirks at your reaction.

Quickly leaning back down between your legs, he duplicates the same position as before, surprising you when his tongue meets your pussy again. Your hand flew down to his hair, tugging on it. Matt groans into you from the sensation, making your back arch as you gasp.

“Fuck, Matt,” your words were breathless as he makes you see stars. Moving one of his hands to your thighs, he squeezes your skin harshly, eliciting a moan from you. Bringing the opposite upwards, his long fingers rub your clit as his tongue enters you, your hand clutching his hair even tighter. Groaning again, Matt’s sounds vibrate against you, driving you even closer to the edge.

Pulling back slightly, Matt’s fingers travel down and quickly plunge inside you, resulting in a loud moan from you. Matt smiles at your sounds, pressing kisses to your inner thighs, looking up at your pleasure-filled face. Leaning down again, his pink, wet lips envelop your clit, the knot inside your stomach hanging on by a thread.

“You close, sweetheart?” His voice breaks you from your daze, nodding your head at his question. “Yeah? Good girl, cum for me, baby.” His fingers hit that spot inside you, rotating them around, the wet sounds echoing through the room. Matt began to grind into the mattress, everything about you; the way you look, the way your body reacts to him, the way you taste, getting him off.

Loud moans rip from your throat, one hand gripping the soft sheets as the other grasps Matt’s hair harshly. As the band snaps, you feel your legs shake, trapping the man between them. “Holy shit.” Matt mutters, yet it barely reaches your ears in your pleasured state.

Inhaling shakily, your body starts to recover from the intense orgasm, chest still heaving. Opening your eyes, they meet Matt’s as he sports a wide grin. Wincing slightly once he gently takes his fingers away, you just start to notice the now-damp shirt he supported, as well as his wet chin. Feeling your body heat up in embarrassment, you look away from him and up at the ceiling.

“That was so fucking hot.” Matt’s words cut you out of your thoughts, making your head turn towards him. He leans down and presses scattered kisses to your sensitive pussy, making your legs twitch.

“Matt, I can’t,” your words are broken as your hands push on his head, yet it does nothing to move him. Leaving one more kiss, Matt leans away and sits up on his knees. His view of you was to die for: the tired look in your eyes, your legs spread wide, your hair a mess over the pillow, yet still in need of more.

Trailing your eyes down his body, they center in on the bulge in his gray sweats, the thin fabric protruding it more than usual. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to fuck you. As if he knew what you were thinking, Matt reaches his arms back to get rid of his shirt, tossing it next to him on the bed. Leaning down to hover over you, his blue eyes never look away from yours, only teasing you more. His swollen lips share your breathing as they stay just inches away from yours. Surprising you, a sudden hand holds the bottom of your chin as he moves down to kiss your neck again. He lets his palm rest there, not putting enough pressure to hurt you, but enough to make you stay in place.

“You listen so well, sweetheart.” Matt mutters against your hot skin, nipping slightly, wary incase he makes a mark. Trailing his hand down, it lands on your breast, squeezing it softly before circling the pad of his thumb on your nipple.

Moaning quietly from his actions, one of your arms wraps around his bare shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

“You want it, baby?” He asks, moving up as he props himself up on his hand, looking down at you. With a nod from you, he stays watching you, clearly wanting verbal approval.

“Yes, Matt, please.” You reply desperately, moving your hands up to glide down his chest. With a smirk in response, he leans back down to press more kisses against your neck, trailing down to your collarbone.

“Of course, you do, princess. Y’want my cock so far inside you, hm?” He hums nonchalantly, as if he isn’t saying the most sinful words in your ear. Nodding again, one of your hands meets his hair, grasping the soft strands and pulling on them. Eliciting a groan from the man, his hands suddenly take hold of your thighs and wrap your legs around his waist, bringing you as close as possible to him. “You ready, sweetheart?” Matt mutters, pressing a kiss against your temple.

Uttering a quiet “yes,” Matt lines himself up with you before pushing forward. Wincing from the stretch, your nails dig harshly into his bare shoulders, taking a groan out of Matt’s lips.

“Taking me so well, baby.” He mutters as he waits for you to get comfortable, groaning once he pushes all the way inside. After a bit, and confirmation from you, his hips move backwards before thrusting forward, sucking the air from your lungs as your mouth opens in pleasure. “That feel good?” Matt teases with a smile, rhythmically starting to move his hips.

“Yes, fuck!” A cry leaves your lips once he hits a certain spot, your nails clawing down his pale back, red marks quickly forming. Moaning at the feeling, Matt’s hips quicken their pace, painfully hard ever since he stepped foot in Chris’s room and saw you. Over time, he grew exceedingly desperate for you; just watching you writhe underneath him could’ve gotten him off.

“Knew you’d feel so good, baby- shit.” Matt cut himself off with a guttural groan, leaning down to rest his head in your neck. Your thighs tighten their hold around his waist, your head thrown back against the soft pillow under you. His words register in your mind, yet they don’t have much of an impact yet.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I can,” he exhales harshly, moving back to lean on his forearms again so he can look at you. “I can feel you clenching around me. ‘Want you to come for me, princess.” Matt rests his forehead against yours, still thrusting forward, his hips smacking against your skin. Your moans melt into his as your lips stay inches away from each other, your breathing joining his.

Reaching one hand up, it engulfs one of your breasts in his large palm, the sudden pressure throwing you off guard as it adds to the already overbearing pleasure.

“Matt, please,” your voice was yearning for relief as you start to beg, like how Chris always wants you to. “Please, I need to—”

“Come for me, baby. No need to beg.” Matt cuts you off, his hips never relenting their brutal pace. Your back arches as white flashes behind your eyelids, stars evident as you close them. Crying out of pure ecstasy, your nails dig even deeper into his marked back, your legs shaking as you come undone.

Watching you, Matt’s driven closer to the edge, taking in his view of you. His hips grow sloppy as he nears his orgasm, breathing heavily from the pleasure. “Where do you want me, baby?” He groans, his pace yet to stop.

“Inside me.” The words leave your lips before you could think. Matt quickly complies, moving his hips forward a few more times before a low groan escapes his lips as the same knot that was once tightening in your stomach, releasing in his.

Both of your chests heaved as you calmed down from your highs, bodies spent and tired. Once Matt gathered up the strength, he leaned back on his forearms and let his eyes graze over your face. Not being able to help himself, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, shocking you. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t kiss back.

Pulling away slowly, the smirk on Matt’s face never faltered. With you still recovering, your eyes grew tired, not paying attention to your surroundings. They shoot open once you feel Matt’s hands envelope your wrists and put them above your head, wrapping the rope that he placed beside you around you again. Tying it gently, still cautious of your already sore skin, he rests them back against the pillow above you, mimicking the way it was when he had walked in.

“Good luck, baby.” Matt smiles before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I think he’s back.” Pulling away, the smile doesn’t leave his lips as he gets up, throwing on his clothes and sending you a wink before quietly leaving Chris’s room.

Lying there in astonishment, your eyes are locked on the closed door, replaying everything that just happened over in your head. Your heartbeat spikes as soon as you hear muffled talking, your mind immediately registering it as your boyfriend’s and his brother, the one that just fucked you.

The door creaks open, revealing Chris as he sets down a plastic bag before shutting the door behind him. Noticing how you were still in the same position as before, Chris smirks and makes his way over to the foot of his bed.

“So gorgeous, mama. You’re so patient for me.” He runs his hands over your legs, causing the same trail of goosebumps as Matt’s did. Leaning forward, he hovers over you, pressing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. Licking over your lip, his tongue grants itself access, swallowing your quiet moan. Peeking his eyes open just slightly, they trail up to the rope that secured your pained wrists. Deepening the kiss, his tongue meets yours, quickly taking control of the situation.

That was when he noticed the knot was different.

[indecisivemuch]

The Pact

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Seeing you yearn for a relationship and dejected over the lack of one, Luke Castellan proposes a dating pact. Little did you know, he was going to do more than just wait until the day the pact could happen (friends-to-lovers, fluff, pining, a lot of longing, lowkey jealous luke).

Note: Sort of inspired by Monica and Chandler's pact thing from Friends.

Word count: 3.4k

You were spending some time alone near the lake, trying to enjoy mid summer sunlight as well as the silence from the lack of campers and couples around. For some strange reason, the number of people dating at least tripled in the last three weeks. If you were honest, the sight of happy couples was starting to irritate you.

Your eyes glided through the lines in the novel you were reading, though you could barely get past a few pages before a degree of bitterness seeped through. You set the book down and sighed. Your head leaned against the tree behind you while shutting your eyes and furrowing your eyebrows. 

Oh, if only someone could love you the same way love was portrayed in books.

Before the scowl could grow permanent on your face, you felt light finger tips setting on the crease between your eyebrows. Instead of getting scared, you remained calm. You knew immediately who it was because there was only one person who would do that. The person sat down next to you and you turned to see them already smiling at you. 

To most, Luke Castellan was just the Hermes cabin counselor and best swordsman. But to you, he was a close friend and confidante. He has made it a habit to press softly against your scrunched eyebrows to prevent you from scowling further. It was somewhat sweet to you.

“What’s got you so bothered?” Luke asked, peering at you while tilting his head in a boyish manner. The look alone somehow made you blush. There was no denying that Luke was cute. You knew at least a handful of people at camp who would agree. It honestly surprised you that he was still single. Though you were somewhat relieved at that. For about a year now, you have had a little crush on the Hermes cabin counselor. It was not hard falling for his kind words and sweet actions.

“This is going to sound so stupid…” You let out a deep sigh.

“Oh, come on, since when have I judged you for being stupid?”

“Oh, so you do admit I’m stupid sometimes?”

“Yes, but is that really a problem, considering I find it endearing?” You hope he did not see the way your face heated up at his words. 

Little did you know, Luke did notice it, just like he has always noticed little details about you. Knowing he was the reason behind your pink-tinted cheeks filled his heart with joy. In fact, throughout the last year, it got to the point where he would grow very bold with his flirty jokes, disguising his feelings in between them. Honestly, he was surprised you had not caught up to the truth yet. 

“Okay, well, so many people have gotten together lately, and it’s got me a little bit annoyed.”

“Why?” Luke questioned.

“Because, I want that experience, you know? The teenage love thing. We already have a strange life, fighting creatures and going on quests that could kill us. I just want to at least experience an aspect of a normal teenage life,” you watched him nod and digest your words. “I didn’t want it, want it. But seeing everybody else experiencing it makes me wonder when it will be my turn, you know?” You sighed before adding, “To make matters worse, it seems like nobody is interested in me that way, so…”

Luke almost let out a chuckle of disbelief at your last remark. Oh, many Demigods found you cute. But if only you knew to look right under your nose. He has always been here. If only you could see him how he wanted you to and give him a chance.

Ever since the day Luke Castellan met you, he became a dreamer. During the night, every dream would be of you, while in the morning, he’d daydream of you until he would see you next. You filled in every thought, walking in his mind like it was your home. But even if it wasn’t your place, he’d still give you the keys without hesitation.

“So…you just want to experience teenage love?”

“Well, that, and ideally, to be loved too. I don’t just want some casual teenage love, but at the same time, I’m tired of waiting around.”

A lightbulb practically lit up inside Luke’s head as an idea popped up. The logical part of his mind was yelling that this was a bad idea, though the more chaotic side was pushing him to just give it a shot. Though, he spent little time contemplating.

“What if we make a pact? By the end of summer - so maybe in about a month - if you haven’t started dating anybody…let’s date each other,” Luke blurted out before his mind could talk him into backing out. It was stupid, and he knew it. But if that was one way to potentially date you, then so be it. 

Luke’s heart squeezed when he saw you completely frozen. He started panicking. Maybe he made it too obvious, and perhaps you didn’t like him in that way and were trying to find a way to back out. 

“I mean—just so the both of us could experience teenage love, you know? I think it will be great. We already get along well. We’re good friends. What could go wrong?” Luke tried in a more casual voice.

A lot could go wrong — you thought. A possible thing that could go wrong is that you would fall harder for Luke, and that feeling would absolutely destroy you when you two break up because he finally becomes genuinely interested in another girl. Or, it has you so hung up that you would confess to him, only for him to say that whatever you two had was just a pact. But Gods, your heart must actually be a fool to whisper to your brain, ‘I mean…at least you would no longer have to imagine how it would feel like to be his.’

“Sure,” you said before you could think twice about it. “Deal,” you grabbed his hand and shook it.

“Deal.”

Now…Luke just needed to do a couple more things in the meantime.

During the first week, you asked Clarisse to set you up with somebody. She introduced you to one of her friends, Dean. However, when you mentioned Dean to Luke, he clicked his tongue before warning you.

“I just think you deserve better, Y/N. I’ve known him for five years and have never seen him bring one person on a date twice. Last week alone, he went on a date with five people.” Since then, you haven’t spoken to Dean again, deciding that you don’t want to try and date a playboy.

Two weeks later, you asked this guy on a date. He came to the picnic you had set up with a bouquet of flowers. However, your smile faltered slightly when you realized they were the type of flowers you disliked. You shook the negative thoughts away. After all, it’s the effort that counts.

Things quickly went downhill as the guy started sneezing…a lot. His eyes were watering, and it seemed like he was borderline getting sick. You noticed him trying to stop sneezing. You could feel the guy trying—you really did. But the last straw broke when he turned away to sneeze mid-sentence but didn’t do it fast enough. 

Three days before the day that marked the day the pact would be able to begin, you attended a party hosted by the Hermes cabin. You were honestly done with trying to find someone to date. Perhaps, this pact thing was not such a bad idea after all, even if Luke might not like you as much as you like him. But at least you knew he would treat you well.

However, your numbers must have turned because somebody had walked up to you and struck up a conversation. With similar humor, your jokes bounced off each other’s, and you almost started crying from laughing at one point.

The sound of your laughter caught the attention of the Hermes cabin counselor. Luke could feel his lips slowly curling up into a smile at the sound of your giggles and laughter. He has always found the sound so endearing.

However, when he turned his gaze over at you, his eyebrows scrunched at the sight of you conversing with another Hermes boy — Oscar, who was also one of his friends. Luke was no longer paying attention to the conversation in his circle right now. His ears were busy trying to make out what that boy was saying to make you laugh like that. However, he almost left his friends when you touched Oscar’s arm while giggling at another one of his jokes.

You always tend to physically react to Luke’s jokes, from small touches while laughing to you playfully slapping his arm at his cheekier jokes. They never fail to make the tip of his ears grow red while his cheeks match the same color. Though Luke swore he had never seen you this way with anybody else. Hence, he was less than enthusiastic at the sight of you doing the same with another guy right now. 

You continued talking to Oscar, but your conversation stopped when somebody bumped into Oscar and spilled their drink onto him. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip…” the guy who bumped into Oscar apologized.

“Chris, it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Oscar said, though a sigh quickly followed his words. “I’ll just go and wash the drink off, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, though?” Oscar looked at you. He smiled when you gave him a sweet nod.

“Sorry again, man,” Chris said before watching Oscar exit the cabin. He turned to you now. “So, how are you? Are you enjoying the party?” You answered Chris and started catching up with him. You and Chris met through Luke, though as the years went on you two became friends as well.

With your focus now on Chris, you did not notice the figure of the Hermes cabin counselor zooming past you two and outside, following a certain someone. However, your conversation with Chris didn’t last long because Clarisse swooped in and borrowed you from Chris. 

“So, I saw you talking to Oscar. Give me the details,” she said, dragging you down to sit beside her.

“He’s great! It’s so easy to talk to him and be around him.”

“Easier than with Luke?” you gave her a warning glare. You might have told her about your little crush on Luke, though you confessed that to her out of the belief that nothing would ever happen and that it would pass soon. Fast-forward to a year later, your feelings have not changed. 

“...No, but—”

“I’m telling you, Luke’s the best one for you.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“If he doesn’t like you like that, he would have never made that pact with you." When you didn’t reply to her, Clarisse decided to bring something else up. “Alright, let’s move on and talk about something else then…another candidate. Dean told me you didn’t show up.”

“Show up to what?”

“He wrote you a note asking you to meet him?” the look on your face must have told Clarisse you had no idea what she was talking about. “He wanted to ask you out on a date in person after that talk you two had three weeks ago.”

“Where did he leave the note?”

“Apparently, he was planning to get me to give it to you, but he passed Luke on his way to me, who offered to give it to you.”

“Well, I never got the note. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. Luke told me he’s quite a player.” Clarisse pondered on the information you just provided her. Dean was in no way a player. She knew he has only been on one date with another person at camp. However, the puzzle pieces quickly clicked for Clarisse and she leaned back with a smirk. 

Before you could question the look on Clarisse's face, Oscar came back to the party. 

“Well, if you don't mind, Oscar is back and I have a good feeling about him. So I'm going to go and talk to him,” you left Clarisse, walking in the direction Oscar did. Meanwhile, Clarisse only silently chuckled. She knew exactly what Luke was up to and it made her shook her head in amusement.

“Hey,” you touched Oscar’s arm, though the cheery grin on your face fell when he slightly flinched and shrugged your hand off. “Uhm, it’s good you got that stain off your shirt,” your eyebrows furrowed when you realized Oscar was not even making eye contact with you.

“So, tell me more about that quest you went on last year?” you asked, hoping to start a conversation again. However, Oscar quickly broke out the truth.

“Listen, you seem very lovely, but I don’t want to put myself in the middle of anything. I don’t want to cause any drama.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not the type of guy to steal girls my friends are talking to or having a thing with,” you scrunch your eyebrow in confusion. Just as you were going to question what Oscar was referring to, his eyes betrayed him and looked at someone. You followed his eyesight only to see Luke already looking at you while glancing between you and Oscar. Though realizing he had been caught, Luke looked away and back to his friends.

That was when everything made sense.

“Uh oh…” Chris’s voice snapped Luke from whatever his friends were saying. He followed his gaze to where Chris was looking, only to see you storming over.

“We need to talk,” Luke tried not to think too much about the way your hand felt on his wrist as you pulled him through the crowd and outside. As always, he blindly followed you to wherever you were taking him. 

You released Luke from your grip and stood with hands on your hips. You took a deep breath. 

“Are you kidding me? Have you been sabotaging me? You told me Dean plays around, but apparently he doesn’t. He also gave you a note to give to me, but you never did it. Then, Oscar, who I was getting along with, came back acting weird, wouldn’t even look me in the eye, and then told me we have a thing going on?”

Oh, Gods, you found out about what he has been doing.

“Listen…” Luke started off while rubbing his neck, though he was unsure what to say next because he was indeed guilty of every accusation you were throwing towards him. But how was he meant to trust fate that you would still be single by the time the pact would be able to come true?

So, he intervened in his own way. That included throwing away Dean’s note, having Chris spill a drink on Oscar to get the boy away from you so Luke could have a talk with him. He might have also suggested your date two weeks ago to get you flowers, despite knowing that the boy was allergic to flowers.

All he wanted to do was to make sure the pact could happen.

“Luke…why? You know I wanted this. I wanted to experience things and date someone.” You weren’t mad, but you were slightly disappointed and confused. You didn’t understand Luke’s intentions behind his actions.

However, Luke misinterpreted the look on your face. He thought you were genuinely upset, and that alone pinched Luke’s heart. He gulped at the idea that he might have disappointed you or made you sad. Screw waiting until the pact happens before confessing. What use would that be when you might somehow start hating him?

“...Maybe I wanted it to be me,” Luke confessed, watching your eyes widen. “You told me you wanted to experience teenage love and feel loved, and you’re tired of waiting until it’s your turn. But I have never told you what I want.” Luke took a step closer to you before starting.

“I want to be the one to take you on dates and give you your favorite flowers every single time. I want to be your personal hype man and be your shoulder to cry on if you ever need one. I want to sit with you by the lake while you read. I also want to read the books you read and those little annotations you make. I want to learn about the things you love and the things you don’t. I want to do things you love. I want to show and tell you just how amazing you are every single day. I want to let the feelings I have right now grow cause I really like the idea of loving you, and I want to get there someday.”

You stood there shell-shocked. This felt almost surreal, like something you read from one of your novels. You have always wished to have someone who practically walked out of a romance novel.

“I want you.”

And here he was, standing in front of you, begging for a chance to be yours.

“And I know you just want teenage love, and I could offer you that. But just know I’m also offering so much more, even if you don’t treat the pact the same way as I do and will only view it as a casual relationship. But I suggested that pact and chased all those guys away because I like you a lot, Y/N. And in hindsight, it was stupid and selfish. But I did it because I felt like it was the only way I could have you.”

“I like you too, Luke,” the words slipped out so easily like they were always meant to be said. “I want you to be my teenage love. I want you too.” You’ve been walking around asking when it would be your turn. If only you had paid attention and looked closer instead, you might have noticed he felt the same way. You wanted everything he has spoken of and be just the same for him — to be there for him and learn to love the things he does.

“And I look forward to every single one of the things you’ve told me, and be the same for you. I really can’t wait for it. However, there is one thing I really want right now,” you said as you walked closer to him, one hand taking his own into yours.

“What?” Luke rasped out, looking so tentatively at you. Gods, whatever wish that spills from your lips this second will have him scour the world for it—whatever guarantees your happiness.

“I want you to kiss me.”

Oh, you could ask him for a thousand kisses, and he would give you a million.

Luke’s cheeks grew rosy at your request. He stepped closer, tucking your hair behind your ear without breaking eye contact. 

“Can I?” He whispered in a honey-like tone, and you knew right then that if he kept talking to you in that voice, you’d do absolutely anything he asked.

“Mhm,” your quiet hum granted Luke permission to his next addiction. Without hesitation, Luke attached your lips together with both hands caressing your face tenderly. In return, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled you both closer until your bodies were flushed against one another. Slowly but surely, you also tangled your fingers in his curls. Luke almost immediately melted against your touch, sighing in contentment against the kiss.

Luke was convinced this was now his new favorite thing to do. He wondered if you could taste it through the kiss—his feelings and borderline infatuation for you. Either way, he intended on making every kiss like this: wholeheartedly and as if it would be your last. 

Now, if you were to ask Luke Castellan how to get the person of your dreams, here’s what he’d advise you:

Step 1. Be stupid and propose a dating pact (tick).

Step 2. Chase away every other potential candidate (tick).

Step 3. Confess (tick).

Step 4. Fulfill all those promises you have made about loving the person (To be continued...But, he’s intending to do this for as long as you’ll let him).

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

masterlist

join my Luke Castellan taglist

[noyasmashing]

Between Lines

Sub!Kenma x Fem!reader

CW: caught jerking off, reader a lil mean, begging, kenma being a cry baby, phone smut

A/N: Kinda rushed this one tbh.. I don’t know if I’m a fan of it but I liked the idea

WC: 1,360

Kenma's quiet demeanor was a defining trait, one that set him apart from the crowd. He wasn't one to actively seek out friendships, nor did he make much effort to engage in conversations with girls.

However, you were the exception. The circumstances of how your nightly calls began was something Kenma could not recall; but it was evolved from your shared love of video games. But once the controllers were set aside for the night, the conversations continued.

Despite his reputation for silence, Kenma was an attentive listener. He found solace in the sound of your voice, absorbing every detail you shared – whether it was the latest gossip, your favorite TV shows, or the mundane details of your day. He was content with this, offering only occasional interjections or quiet chuckles in response.

When the topic inevitably turned to him, Kenma's responses were dry, stale. I mean, you tried to talk about him, but it’s like he was on a witness protection program. He always found a way to turn the conversations back to you.

You weren’t exactly sure why, as sometimes you would have to ask “Are you still there, Kozu?"

A soft "mhmm" would be his only response, a subtle reassurance that he was indeed still listening.

Tonight was no exception. The clock ticked past 10:00 pm, leaving Kenma’s room dark as he lay on his bed, phone pressed to his ear. Your voice filled the room, animated and excited as you recounted the latest episode from your favorite TV show.

"But can you believe that plot twist?" you exclaimed, your excitement palpable even through the phone.

"Yeah, it was unexpected," Kenma replied, his tone calm but laced with a hint of amusement.

As the conversation continued, Kenma found himself lying there, feeling embarrassingly aroused. Lately, he had been struggling to find release, but there was something about the sound of your voice that seemed to make him undeniably hard.

His hand started to wander lower, venturing into forbidden territory where his boxers were already dampened with precum.

"That reminds me, Kozu! What you pulled off during the last match was pretty impressive," you enthusiastically complimented him, completely unaware of the effect your words were having on him.

“o-oh really?” He asked shakily, shamelessly teasing his overly sensitive pink tip.

"Mhmm, good job, Kozu.” You chuckled, praising him once more for his gaming skills.

Now, of all times, was the worst moment to praise him like that. He was already so aroused! The tone of your voice, your affectionate words, and just your presence in general was too much for him. By now, he was shakily jerking himself off, beads of precum leaking out of his tip.

He attempted to stifle his sounds of pleasure, but his efforts were in vain as a loud moan escaped him, broadcasting through the mic. His moment of ecstasy was abruptly halted when the realization of his mistake hit him.

"Kozu?" you asked, surprised at his unexpected reaction. Kenma didn’t know what to do with himself. He could die right about now. The one time he decided to let into his urges and he gets caught!

Before he could gather his thoughts to respond, you continued with a mischievous tone, "Have you been getting off to my voice every night?" Kenma's cheeks flushed even deeper as he struggled to find words, caught off guard by your bold question.

"N-no... I just... I'm sorry," Kenma whimpered out, his embarrassment evident in his voice. Somehow, he found himself even more aroused than before. Being caught by you had an unexpected effect on his body.

He braced himself for your potential reaction—scolding, perhaps even the silent treatment, or worse. But instead, your voice cut through his panicked thoughts, softer than before, calm and understanding,

"Did you cum yet?" you asked curiously, your tone indicating a desire to help with his predicament.

"W-what?" Kenma asked, still expecting a reprimand from you, his confusion evident in his voice.

“Cum? Did you?” you asked, this time with a slightly firmer tone.

"N-n, no.. no I didn’t," Kenma told you anxiously, unable to believe you would ask him something so intimate.

“Do you want to?” you inquired, your tone still gentle, yet probing. Kenma couldn't decipher how you felt about the situation, but he responded with a shaky "yes," although it was an obvious answer.

Your light laughter filled the air, further fueling Kenma's embarrassment. "I won't stop you, Kozu. I was waiting for something like this to happen," you admitted seductively, your words sending a shiver down his spine.

Kenma let out a soft whine, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursing through him at your candid admission.

His hand slowly made its way back down to his aching cock, ready to relive himself of this burning feeling.

"What... what do you mean?" Kenma let out shakily, running his hand over the length of his throbbing erection. God, he was incredibly turned on right now, teetering on the edge of climax with every touch.

"Oh, come on," you teased, as if he should have known what you meant all along, though maybe he did, he wasn't sure. "Do you think I spend hours talking to you even when it’s late just for fun? I like you, Kozume. I really do," you confessed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

This time, Kenma let out a loud moan in response. You? You liked him? It was all too much for him to process.

"I want to see you," he whined, his voice filled with desperation, the sound of his frantic movements against his cock audible through the speaker, causing you to clench around nothing.

"You sound so pretty right now. I wish it was my hand doing the work for you," you remarked, ignoring his attempts at flattery.

He continued to diligently pleasure himself, while you comforted him with soft words, unwittingly encouraging his actions.

His breath became heavier, punctuated by moans and whimpers. "Please," he breathed out, nearing the edge of his climax.

"Please what, Kozu? Do you want to cum?" you asked warmly, causing him to nod his head rapidly, as if you could see him.

"Hmm?" you questioned at his silence. He let out a shy "can I?" seeking your permission for release.

"I don’t know…" you trailed off, feigning contemplation. "I’m kind of upset you touched yourself to my voice without me knowing. You're such a little pervert," you chided, and Kenma couldn't help but let out a mangled sob, his hand slowing its pace in response to your disapproval.

Hearing his slowed motions, you quickly scolded him,

"Don’t slow down if I didn’t tell you to.” This time you were much harsher than he expected. Tears began running down his burning cheeks, small apologies leaving his wet lips.

“If you wanna cum, beg," your demeanor shifted quickly, fueling his arousal even more.

He couldn’t believe you would make him do something so lewd, but he was too far gone to stop himself, "Please.. p-please [name], 'wanna cum so bad! I'm sorry.. mm sorry!" Kenma's voice came out in pitiful sobs, his desperation evident.

The sound of your tongue clicking, as if you weren’t satisfied with his pleas, only made him more desperate.

“I don’t know… maybe I should make you wait until I can touch you,” you remarked. But all Kenma could focus on was the “until I can touch you.”

The thought of you, looking at him with those pretty eyes as you made him cum on himself over and over again, was too much.

He let out more pleas and whimpers, his hips buckling pathetically into his own hand.

“I need to cum, it hurts. I haven’t in sooo long. Please, just this once.. one time,” he rambled, trying to convince you.

"Alright baby, let it out," you finally relented, and Kenma's moans grew louder as thick white ropes of cum flew out from his sensitive tip, coating his pale stomach. Small thank yous and pieces of your name left his lips as he hit his peak.

"Who knew someone so quiet would moan so loud," you remarked, a hint of amusement in your voice.

[baynetta]

riding miguel would literally be a sport omg the way he’d have to lift you up off his lap because your body is too exhausted

riding miguel! (nsfw)

they should considere it to put it up to a olympic sport atp cause it’s something that just takes a lot of time and work. i definitely feel they’re some days that he would come home and he’ll be more than pleased to give you a hand. but not today. he’ll come so tired of all the late work that he had to indure. you didn’t know how much he crave for it, to have you all by himself. and why not to try something new, now that you had some practice before why not ride him all by yourself. this time, no guidance and definitely not help. at first you’ll be a little bit intimidate by it, having him staring at you, full in display, on your own bed, him observing every minute detail of your performance. it felt like your first time all over again (who btw was with miguel ofc🤭). he’ll grab you by the wrist to get close to his throbbing cock, he’s been painfully hard the whole day, thrilled just for this moment, so he’s now very impatient. “c’mon just sit on it baby” “don’t be acting like a prude right now”-. he muttered as you start to accommodate his tip already glassed in pre-cum on your entrance, you had it grabbed by his base giving it slow strokes, as your going in you feel how it slowly rasps making his way into your cavities, you yelp at the feeling, mostly bcs you didn’t had any prep. he usually will take his time before fucking you, he’ll eat you out and stick his fingers on your tight cunt till it’s fully mixed with both of y’all juices before he can burried his length into you. but not today. he wanted to feel how you strech yourself with his hardness, how good it i’ll start to dilatate and contract while his tip reach for the cervix.

as you were making it fit, you were whimper and sobbing mess and miguel could feel how tensed you were, how he was ripping his way up. “honey. escúpele” he demanded as you’re half way in. you spit on the palm of your hand and start glazing and rubbing his shaft with the mix of your sticky saliva and arousal. you watched miguel throw his head back off, shutting his eyes. fuck he’s been fantasizing about it for so long. and mind you, you haven’t reached to the base yet. abruptly you feel miguel’s hand groping your mushy hips and dragging you all the way down. it felt so violent the way you took him in one sitting, that you cry loudly at being now fulled by him. “fuck that’s it” he spit, you cry as you clench tightly on him, and fuck he’s having way too much fun, “ahora de nuevo”—he hissed while looking proudly at how well your taking him, such a good girl. you go all the way up again, with one hand on his base trying to keep the control of it, and drop slowly until your inner thighs are crashing with his pelvis, fuck it stings badly, you feel how hard his cock is stretching your walls as well your thighs are starting to cramp and burn as it’s holds your entire body weight. you tried to support your hands on miguels defined abs but he just slapped them away, “don’t fucking try it, put em behind”—you wanted to protest be he’s already giving you that “say it o you’ll regret it” look. you put them behind as you start going up again, and get down giving little semi circular movements, hissing as it starts to hit the right spot. “fuck.. que apretadita estás”- you cry as he’s hitting it, over and over again, your legs burning, the way your hips are loosing the tempo making all the movements messy and desperate for a guidence.

the room has been a mixing sounds of grunts, whimpers and sobbing messes, the filthy noises of the headboard slamming and the loud sounds of skin slapping as your crushing down hard and squirming all over him. miguel throwing his head back groaning and mutting the dirtiest praises “fuckk..such. a dirty. slut” “stop crying or i’ll be worse”. he’ll constantly switch his grip between your hips or your bouncing tits, he’ll twisted and squeez it. he fucking enjoying it watching your tired body starting to collapse. your pretty eyes closed, trying to endure all the pain and pleasure coming from all the parts that his hands and cock are abusing. the minutes you been on and on it’s almost miracle that you didn’t faint, as he sees you getting all flustered and sweaty he’ll grab you by the face, “don’t. fucking. stop”—.you can feel now his thumb digging dip in your jaw, making you gasp. you feel your full body start trembling, you try to inhale and exhale but your lower back and thighs went on shock. the exhaustion in your face as you implored and begged for miguel's help. until you just can't help it anymore and drop your weakened body on top of him. miguel inmidiatly will embrace you in warm and intimate hug, lift you up off his lap, stand up while he’s still inside you. he'll leave a trace of kisses from your collarbone up to your face whispering how good you were and now he's gonna take care of you.

pd: the stamina of this guy GOD he’s probably goes on an on all night 🤭

trad:

-spit on it

-now again

-you’re so tight

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you just can't get to sleep thanks to a terrible rainstorm terrorizing the ship. luckily, your tossing and turning inspired nami with an idea: just go sleep with the swordsman.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

don' ask about the aesthetic k? k 💙

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

With how the hail storm rattled against the hull of the ship, and how the vessel careened on the waves, you were at a loss as to how Nami was fast asleep already.

The crew had settled down for sleep hours ago, the laughter and teasing from dinner falling into a soft silence draping over each and every one of you—well, except you, that is.

Even after months at sea, the incessant rocking had you curling into yourself, headache blooming under the skin of your temples. Groaning, you rolled around on your sheets, burying your face in your pillow as you shoved the blanket off your shoulders and down your body. Chill air hit you instantly, a contrast to the sweat rising from your skin. All you wanted was sleep, but your ears rang with the sound of rainfall and the far off thunder rumbling through the sky.

You tossed and turned again and again, rest ever so far away and the sway of the Going Merry making kept your mind alert with all its tilts and jumps. Yet another grunt of frustration huffed from your lips, and Nami finally sprang up, glaring at you from across the cabin.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, her eyes heavy and her annoyance high.

Great. Now Nami was upset, which usually lasted a whole day if you were unlucky. You didn’t bother turning back to look at her, digging yourself deeper into your blanket. “Sorry…”

She sighed and rubbed at her cheek, gaze drifting over your exhausted form, taking in what she could in the dark. Settling back down, Nami said what she’d been thinking for the past two hours of listening to you loll around restlessly. “Just go sleep with Zoro.”

A beat passed, your eyes slowly opening as you tried to convince yourself you’d heard her wrong. You flipped around and gaped at the girl slinking into her sheets with a smirk you would catch through any dark room. “What? Why would I—Why would you—Nami!”

She chuckled darkly, her bright eyes finding yours. Nami propped her head up on her hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time, right?”

Trying and failing to make a comeback, you opened and closed your mouth like a gaping fish, settling on crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s none of your business.”

“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “But I’ve got dawn watch and am in desperate need of sleep.” All you did was stare at her, your glare fading. Nami rolled onto her back, offering into the silence, “It’s not like he’ll turn you away.”

You tried so very hard to let her logic roll off your shoulders, but it was cold (Zoro was warm) and you were tired (Zoro was a good napping buddy). As appealing as the idea was, you didn’t want to bother him. Zoro was probably just getting back from his night watch, Sanji heading up to the deck in his wake. Zoro wouldn’t turn you away, but he might grumble at you, and sometimes that was worse.

“Stop overthinking,” Nami’s voice whispered through a hiss. “He likes you.”

She was just trying to give you heart palpitations saying stuff like that. “Does not.”

“Mhmm. Get some sleep… with Zoro.”

You threw your pillow across the room, missing her bed by a longshot. You could throw pillows and shout whispered words at her all you wanted—it didn’t change that she had a point.

It wouldn’t be the first time you crawled into Zoro’s hammock late at night, seeking shelter from sleeplessness that seemed to miraculously melt in his embrace. Nami might’ve been right; Zoro might like you, at least more than he liked anybody else. It was confusing most days, but your mind was so mushy with fatigue you didn’t bother running over the finer details of your affections for the swordsman.

You puffed out a huff, eliciting a growl from the dark, “Go. Or neither of us will sleep.”

“Fine.” You threw off your blanket and marched out of the cabin before you could lose your nerve, trudging through the nearly pitch black hall of the Merry. 

You yelped as you tripped over a discarded broom, cursing into the night as you kicked it aside and kept on toward the boy’s cabin. As soon as you laid eyes on the closed door, your footsteps faltered, heart stuttering. 

The ship leaned on the waves and sent you teetering into the wall, and the decision was suddenly easy. You inched the door open gently, wincing at the momentary creak, and slipped inside. 

The boys’ cabin always had a… unique scent to it. Somewhere between burning socks and musk is how Nami described it. Honestly (now, you would never tell her this), you just thought it smelled like Zoro. Though Zoro might’ve been slightly less odorous on good days, you mused.

The swordsman of your infatuation lay in a swaying hammock tied up between two support beams holding up the ceiling. A flash of lightning illuminated his peaceful face for a brief moment, and the room was back to black. 

Collecting your wits, you approached him slowly, careful not to step on any of the clutters the boys left lying about. Lip pinched between your teeth, you stepped around a crate of slingshot ammo Usopp had crafted, catching your foot on the slingshot itself and jumping out of the way. 

You swept the room fretfully, yet no one stirred, the usual snores rising and falling. A sigh puffed form your chest as you turned back to Zoro’s hammock, only to lock eyes with the stoic swordsman as he gazed blearily up at you.

Lurching back, you calmed your racing heart and huffed at him. “You scared me.”

Zoro leaned up on his elbows, confused. “You scared me.” His gaze flickered all over your face. “What’re you doing?”

You fisted your hands, feeling like a deer at headlights, and blurted, “Nami kicked me out.”

Zoro’s brows drew instantly. “What?” He rose halfway when you hand found his chest, gently pushing him back down.

“I mean,” you amended. “I couldn’t sleep, and she got tired of me rolling around…” Bashful in how you averted your eyes, swaying on your feet, “I… sleep better with you. Y’know?”

Not even a second later he tugged on your arm to draw you closer, shuffling over to offer you some room. You smiled softly, falling into the space beside him, molding right into his side. “Yeah, I know.”

Your face warmed, your heart swelled, and you rested your head on the rigid outline of his shoulder, adjusting to find a comfortable place. Zoro’s arm slid under you and curled you further into his side, a sigh pulling from his chest, his muscles literally relaxing under each of your touches. 

There wasn’t a name for what you and Zoro were, not yet anyway, and somehow you were fine with that. He was there, and you were there, and that felt like enough. For now, you let your eyes finally give way to exhaustion, the pelting of the rain growing fainter and fainter. 

Nami was a tease, but she made some good points a lot of the time. You’d have to thank her in the morning, after you finally got to sleep in the arms of your swordsman.

[janiehellion]

Healing Touch

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When Daryl Dixon is injured and stuck in bed, he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of being pampered by the group. But you? You’re more than ready to take care of him—and show him just what it means to be a good boy. Think Daryl Dixon’s all rough and tough? Think again...

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HANDJOB / TEASING / EDGING / ORGASM DENIAL

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.033

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S2E05—ᴄʜᴜᴘᴀᴄᴀʙʀᴀ & S2E06—ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ

MASTERLIST

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, the Georgia sun burning down on you as you walked over to Maggie and Glenn outside of the house on Hershel's farm.

Every so often, you'd look towards the cars where a few others in the group were working, trying to make the most of the now limited supplies you all had left at the moment.

"I got a lot of corn here," Maggie said, holding up a can. "Maybe we can make some soup tonight. What do you think?"

Glenn laughed, "Soup sounds fine, I think. As long as we don’t have to eat beans again. I think I’m starting to sprout beans myself."

"Hey Maggie," you shouted over to her. "How’s everything going so far? You two need any help?"

Maggie gave you a small, but rather distracted, smile. "It’s been a quiet run, so we’re okay. We just came back a few minutes ago with some new supplies."

You nodded. "That's good. Means we won't starve anytime soon. Hey, listen, I heard Daryl’s still inside the house. Do you know how he is feeling? I really hope he is feeling better. Everything that has happened, I just... I don't know. I still can't wrap my head around it."

"Well, dad took care of him, just like he did with Carl, so I wouldn't worry too much about his condition. And if it would've worsened, dad would've told Rick already, that's for sure. But what has happened to him out there, and then the bullet? I don't know him well enough, but I think that he’s too stubborn to admit he even needed help in the first place. And that ear necklace? I'm sorry, but that was beyond creepy."

You remembered… Daryl has been out there, trying to find Sophia again. Of course, it all had to go sideways. You didn't know the details exactly, but you remembered how he had dragged himself back to the farm, looking like he’d been through hell and back. Covered in dirt and blood, and barely conscious.

Then, just when things couldn’t get any worse, Andrea took a shot at him from the roof of the RV. She’d been told to hold off by Rick, Shane, and Dale, but she fired anyway, hitting Daryl in the head, with the bullet grazing his temple.

"I’ll check on him," you now said, putting the supplies aside again. "You're right, he's too stubborn to admit it, but he needs someone to make sure he’s not pushing himself too hard. And if he could, he'd already be out there again."

As you walked towards the farmhouse, you passed by Rick, who was busy organizing and looking through different maps. He looked up at you, giving you a nod. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding rather exhausted. "Are you going to check on Daryl? Or are you going to help Beth and Lori in the kitchen?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Daryl's been through hell while trying to find Sophia."

"Good idea. He’s definitely been through a lot, that's true. I mean, we all have. But just… be careful with him. You know how Daryl is."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know, Rick. That’s why I’m going to make sure he stays put and tied to the bed. Don't worry."

As you walked into the farmhouse, you could hear a voice coming from the kitchen, where Lori was preparing a meal with Beth together for Daryl and the rest of the group.

"Hello," Lori said and looked at you. "Are you going to see Daryl, or do you want to help us? Rick has been annoying me with me apparently needing help, even though Beth is helping me already."

You nodded, giving her a smile back. "Don't worry, Lori. I want to make sure Daryl's alright, you know, after everything that has happened lately."

She gave you a quick and thankful thumbs up before you continued heading to the room in which Daryl was in, but paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath. The thought of Daryl lying there, probably still hurt and so vulnerable, made your heart ache. He’d always been so strong, but seeing him in such a state was hard to imagine. And just as you were about to open the door, you heard a voice coming from the inside of the room.

You stopped, listening for a moment before pushing open the door to find Hershel standing by Daryl’s bedside.

"Evening, Hershel," you said as you entered the room, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach.

Hershel looked up, smiling at the sight of you. "Hey there, good to see you. I could use an extra pair of hands."

You moved closer to the bed, where Daryl lay, and Hershel continued, "Daryl’s been in and out of consciousness yesterday most of the time, but I’m hopeful he’ll recover fast if he gets the rest he needs. And if you could help changing the rest of the bandages right now, that would be great."

You nodded, taking a closer look at Daryl. "Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I know he can be stubborn, but he needs to take it easy eventually."

"That’s the spirit. I’ve done what I can for now. He’ll need the rest."

You were still looking at Daryl as Hershel took a few steps back, who now moved slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes opened just a little bit, and he looked at you with confusion.

"Hey, tough guy," you said. "How are you holding up so far?"

"Just peachy, as always," he answered rather annoyed.

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer. He certainly sounded like the Daryl Dixon that you all knew so far. "Well, I’m here now, so you’d better let me take care of you."

Hershel gave you another nod before finally walking out of the room. "Good, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, like more bandages, don’t hesitate to ask. We still got enough medical supplies left if needed."

"Thanks, Hershel," you replied, watching as he left the room.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task ahead.

"What’re ya even doin’ here?" Daryl suddenly mumbled. "'M fine. Don’t need no babysittin’ bullshit. Ain't needin' ya 'round here either."

You gave him a smile, trying to hide how annoyed you already were with his usual behavior. "You’re obviously not fine, Daryl. You’ve been through a lot, and you know it. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like trying to get up and do something you shouldn’t."

He grumbled in frustration, trying to turn away from you. "Yeah… whatever."

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. "Yeah... Too bad, huh? Because right now, that means letting me help you."

"Ain’t nothin’ you can do that Hershel didn’t already do," he mumbled again.

You set down the small medical kit Hershel had brought with him and pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Hershel did his part, sure, but it’s not just about the wounds. You need to rest and relax, and that’s where I come in. Also, taking off the old bandages and putting on new ones isn't that hard, but I doubt that you can do it yourself. And Hershel just left the room, so it's up to me now to change the rest of them. I don't care if you complain about it or not."

You then began to carefully take off the bandages from his side, where the crossbow bolt had pierced itself through. Daryl winced a little, but he didn’t complain so far, his pride keeping him quiet even though you could see how uncomfortable it was for him.

"You know, for someone who’s always acting so tough, you’re a real damn mess right now," you said, trying to break the ice with a bit of humor. "How’d you end up like that anyway? What even happened out there?"

Daryl smirked a bit to himself. "Ya think I’m gonna tell ya a story now? Hell, jus' get it over with."

You shook your head and laughed quietly, focusing on cleaning the wound first. "Hey, I'm not the one that looks like the wrong side of the bed became sentient and beat the ever-loving shit out of you. So you’re going to have to deal with me being the one to help you. It’s either that or I get someone else who’s less careful."

"Less careful?" Daryl asked, and he winced again as you applied antiseptic to the wound. "Sounds to me like yer enjoyin’ this."

You stopped for a moment and looked at him with a teasing smile. "You know what? Maybe I really am enjoying this. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not going to cause us any more trouble, even though we all appreciate what you did. Especially Carol."

"Ya think I need ya to look after me? I can handle myself jus' fine," he grumbled and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at you anymore.

You soon finished cleaning the wound and then continued with the fresh bandages. "Oh, I’m sure you can, Dixon. But that’s not even the point. The point is, you’re not in any shape to be running around and playing redneck cowboy."

Daryl moved slightly again, trying to get more comfortable. "Ain't in need to be told twice. Thank ya very much."

You stopped wrapping the bandage around him, waiting for him to get into a more comfortable position. "Stop it with the damn sarcasm, Daryl. For someone who’s always trying to play it cool, you’re really not doing a great job of hiding how much this is bothering you. You do realize that looking weak and needing help are two different things, right? You're far from being weak, and you've done much more for this group than you can probably imagine, even if you're doubting yourself and telling yourself that it's all bullshit in the end." You told him and then continued, putting on the final bandage. "But it's not. And right now, you need to let yourself be looked after, and you need to give us the chance to care about you. Even if it's only for once."

There was a moment of silence, and for a second he looked at you only to look away again, clearly struggling with giving you an honest answer about what he thinks.

You took a deep breath. "Alright, I’m done with the bandages. How about a quick check of your other injuries?"

Daryl nodded quickly, but you could see he was starting to relax a bit. "Yeah, fine. Jus'… make it quick, will ya? Ain't got no time for this bullshit."

You smiled and began checking his other wounds. "So, what’s your actual excuse for not telling us what has happened?"

"Ain't worth tellin’. Jus' 'nother day of me bein’ stupid," he grumbled back as an answer.

Soon enough, you finished checking his other wounds and stood up, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re all patched up, try to get some rest. We’re all counting on you to be back on your feet soon; don't forget that."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I’ll try to stay outta trouble while bein' tied to this damn bed."

You smiled and began to pack up the antiseptic and unused bandages, putting them back into the small medical kit. "That’s all I ask for. Get some sleep, Daryl. You know you need it. Something to eat will be ready soon."

As you put away the last of the bandages, you noticed how tense Daryl seemed to be. So you decided to take an extra moment to help him relax, thinking how a little extra care couldn’t hurt.

Your fingers soon massaged his side as you sat down once more, careful not to touch the wound. It was meant to ease the tense muscles around it a bit, but as your hands moved over his skin, you felt that he seemed to react differently when he gasped slightly.

"Ya really don’t have to," he started, but he stopped talking as you continued, your touch slow and feeling soothing.

You looked up, now looking into his eyes. "Why not? You’re all tense. And it’s not just about the injuries; your whole body’s been through a lot. A little extra care might help. There's nothing wrong with it."

He grunted, trying to remain tough, but his breathing grew heavier, betraying his growing discomfort, and you noticed how his body responded to your touch—a reaction he was clearly trying to hide.

His cock began to harden under the sheets. The outline of it was becoming more pronounced, and you could see the rise of the sheets with each breath he took.

You tried to ignore the current awkwardness of the situation, but it was impossible not to notice, and even more impossible not to look at it. Your fingers stopped, and you hesitated momentarily before continuing to massage his side, with Daryl’s eyes squeezed shut and another groan escaping his lips.

"Ugh... Daryl?" You asked quietly, your voice full of curiosity as you realized what was happening. "Are you… okay?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head away from you. "Yeah, jus', jus' let it be. Shit, jus' stop!"

But you couldn’t ignore the evident hardening beneath the sheets anymore. As you moved slightly in your seat to get a little bit closer to him, your hand accidentally brushed against his cock, and Daryl’s reaction was immediate—he sucked in a breath, his body tensing even more.

"Ain’t needin’ ya to… to be all handsy now, goddamn it!" Daryl's voice was trembling, his body shaking a bit, and his muscles straining, even as you didn't continue to massage him. But the sudden power you had over him was intoxicating, and you decided to take your chance and act on it.

You reached down and carefully pulled back the sheets covering his lower body. Daryl’s breathing hitched as you exposed him, and his cock was already hard, pushing against his pants. You could see it clearly now, the visible outline of it.

You smirked at him as you pulled the waistband of his pants down, just enough to pull his cock out and free it from his underwear.

As you pulled it out, Daryl's eyes widened as he watched you handle him. There was no need for words; the look on his face said it all. He felt vulnerable.

You gave him a smile, your hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. "You look like you're about to lose it, Dixon."

He glared back at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. "Ain’t fair, ya know…"

You leaned in close to him, your lips touching his ear. "Well, who said life was fair?" Your hand started to move, giving his cock a slow, torturous stroke that had him groaning. "But maybe… if you ask nicely…"

"God… Please," he groaned again, but it was clear he wasn’t used to begging, yet the desperation in his voice was there beyond doubt.

"Good boy," you murmured, and you could see how his eyes slowly closed as he gave in to your touch and words.

You soon picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, his hips bucking into your hand. "Shit, jus' like that," he moaned, his eyes squeezing shut even more tightly.

Fuck… How he wanted it. Your hand working his cock, making him forget about everything that has happened…

You could tell he was close already. His cock twitched in your hand, and the quiet sounds he was making were turning more desperate. "Please," he gasped again. "I… I can’t..."

"Oh? Already, huh?" You teased him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum over it that had gathered there.

You smirked, enjoying the power you had over him. "Do you like this?" You teased him further.

"Yeah, jus' like that…" He panted, his body trembling. "Please... I need ya to touch me more. Can't fuckin' take it..."

"Touch you where, Daryl? Use your words. Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you want."

"My damn dick... please, jus' touch it." You immediately switched your pace back to pump him slowly again, and each stroke of your hand made him shiver, his moans growing a little louder with every touch.

His hips bucked involuntarily, but you kept your rhythm controlled, never speeding up, not letting him get the orgasm he wanted so desperately.

"I thought you were a tough guy. But look at you—so damn needy already. Come on, Daryl," you mumbled. "You’re not done yet. Not until I say so."

He whimpered, trying to thrust into your hand, but you stopped him, keeping him on edge.

"Fuck, please…" He groaned in frustration. "Don’t stop… jus' fuckin' finish me off already!"

You laughed, your grip tightening just enough to torture him a little more. "And why would I do that? You need to learn so much more about patience."

With each stroke, you used different pressure and speed, sometimes going slower just when he thought he was about to finally cum. The feeling was almost unbearable for Daryl, and you could see it in the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again and again, his breathing only coming out in gasps.

"How does it feel, Daryl? Being held on the edge like this?" You asked, looking over at the door to listen if somebody was coming closer.

"Shit, feels so damn good…" He gasped, his voice strained. "I jus' need… I need to… Fuck!"

You smiled, leaning closer to him once more when you were sure that you'd be left alone. "Not yet, tough guy. I want to see just how much you can take."

You continued your teasing, your strokes slow and torturous. "You can take it. I know you can. You want it, don’t you? You want to make me finish you so badly, but you’re going to have to earn it," you whispered.

Daryl could only nod. "Please… Hell, I can't take much more!" 

He couldn't take it anymore. The teasing—it was all too much. He wanted to cum. And he needed you to make him cum. Hell, he loved it. Your hand pumping his cock, teasing him, making him groan with need. The way you toyed with him, bringing him so close only to pull back? Shit, he was losing it… And the way your fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking it just right… It was driving him insane.

You simply grinned, feeling excited because of the power you held over him. "But that's good. Because I want you to remember this. Remember how much you wanted it and how much I made you wait."

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to give in.

With that, you continued to edge him, every touch, every stroke keeping him on the brink, pushing him to the limit of his own control.

And the feeling of sliding your hand back and forth along his thick shaft, the way he groaned and moaned quietly, trying to keep himself quiet just for you—it was everything you wanted...

"Fuck, please," he moaned again, his voice now breaking slightly.

His cock was pulsing in your hand and still leaking pre-cum, and you knew this was the moment he might not be able to hold back any longer. And just when he was about to finally stumble over the edge, you stopped pumping him completely, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.

Daryl’s eyes flew open in shock, anger, and need. "What the fuck?" He growled, his voice hoarse. "Why’d ya stop?"

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Because I wanted to see you beg for it, Daryl. And you’re not quite there yet."

He glared at you in need, his cheeks red, and sweat started to form on his body. "Ya can’t jus' leave me like this! Please!"

"Oh, but I can," you answered with a smirk. "And I will. Unless you really beg for it."

Daryl closed his mouth, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitching around as he gritted his teeth, his pride and ego fighting with his desperate need. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow.

"Please, please, let me cum," he whispered and finally started to beg and whimper a little more. "Please! I can't take it anymore. Please…"

God... How much he needed you. Desperately. Your hands, your touch, everything about the way you teased and pumped him, the way you handled him… It was like you knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed, and you were giving it to him for free, if only he would beg for it...

You smiled, satisfied with his response. "That’s better. Now, let’s see how much more you can take."

You went back to your teasing, your hand moving slowly over his cock, feeling him twitch and pulse again with every touch. His moans grew a little louder, even more desperate, as you brought him to the edge again and again, only to stop just before he could finally cum.

By the time you finally decided to give him what he needed, Daryl was nothing more than a trembling and pleading mess, his hips bucking toward you again and again, his eyes now looking desperatly at you.

"Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Daryl," you whispered quietly. "Look at you, trying to keep quiet for me, trying to hold back so hard. Taking it like you should… Don't stop looking at me."

You sped up, your movements rough and fast, giving him no time to adjust to the now quick pace. His body was shaking, and you could feel he was more than ready to snap.

"Yeah, you want to cum so bad, don’t you?" You teased. "Go on, Daryl. Cum for me. Show me how much you need it. How much you want it."

With a choked groan, Daryl's body tensed. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing in your grip as he came all over your hand. You kept pumping him through it, milking every last drop out of him.

"Oh, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" You mumbled. "Let it all out. You did so well for me."

He collapsed back against the bed, completely spent and exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You reached for a towel next to the small medical kit, wiping your hand and cleaning up carefully, making sure not to leave any evidence of what had just happened behind, before you looked down at Daryl, a wide smile on your face.

"Fuck," he panted. "That was… fuck..."

"Told you I’d take care of you," you answered him, giving him a wink.

He opened his eyes, looking at you quite exhausted. "Yeah, ya did…"

He didn’t protest as you cleaned him up; he just watched and stared at you with those intense blue eyes, still catching his breath with his mouth slightly open.

"There," you said, as you were finishing everything up. "All cleaned up again."

Daryl didn’t say anything for now, just giving you a small and a little ashamed nod as you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty face.

"Get some rest now, tough guy," you whispered, pulling back and standing up. "You’re gonna need it. Remember: Be a good boy for me."

"Yeah… I... I..." He grunted in response, unable to even finish his thoughts after hearing your words, which were still making his head spin.

You simply smirked, heading towards the door. "Anytime, Daryl. Anytime."

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied as well. Daryl Dixon might be tough as hell, but in that moment, he was completely and totally yours.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene IV: The Quiet Morning)

The tension between you and Spencer reaches a breaking point the next morning.

Part warning: (18+) breast play, fingering, and some grinding action because he can’t stop himself Words: 1.9k A/n: this might be the quietest smut I’ve ever written, but we need to keep the tension going because it’s good for the drama🤩 i also wanna say that i wrote this in between my pile of work so please excuse me if you see any mistakes or some weird description that doesn’t make any sense. my head is about to explode

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You woke up with an arm draped across your waist. Under normal circumstances, you would have jumped at the unexpected contact, but when the memory of last night crossed your half-conscious mind, it shouldn’t have surprised you.

Although you weren’t sure how you ended up like this. The details of the night before were a bit hazy, like fragments of a dream slipping through your fingers. You remembered the intensity, the undeniable pull that had drawn you together, but how it had led to this calm, intimate closeness was a mystery.

The gentle weight of his hand resting on your stomach was a constant reminder of the compromising position you were in. You wondered whether he was awake, or whether he was merely drifting in that blurry space between sleep and consciousness. You couldn’t help but wonder if he even realized how tightly he was holding you.

But then a subtle brush across your stomach made you tense unexpectedly. You felt his warm breath fanning across your skin, a shaky exhale that barely made a sound as it passed through his lips. There was an intake, a pointed swallow, the thick gulp of exchanged air suggesting he was, in fact, already awake.

You shifted slightly. This seemed like the right moment to address what happened last night. The quiet of the morning made it seem like an appropriate time to confront your emotions, to peel back the layers of what was quickly becoming something more real. More than just a lie

But neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of your breathing. You lay there, waiting, your mind conjuring up various scenarios of what might happen next. You imagined him awkwardly stumbling over an apology, or worse, bolting out of the room in a rush of confusion and regret. Yet you certainly didn’t expect what came next.

He pressed a hesitant kiss at the back of your neck.

You froze, caught completely off guard. You thought of pulling away, but your body remained still, almost as if it refused to react until your brain processed the rush of emotions flooding through you. For a moment, you felt suspended in time, unable to move, to think, to breathe. But as you felt his tongue trace a warm, delicate line along the curve of your neck, you knew you couldn’t resist him any longer.

You tilted your head, giving him better access to the tender skin beneath your ear. His lips found the spot where your pulse throbbed most visibly, and he lingered there, sucking gently the whole time you squirmed in his arms.

He took your response as encouragement, letting his hand trail along your stomach before stopping at the hem of your shirt. He paused, his hand resting lightly against you as if asking for permission. A moment of hesitation fluttered through your mind, but it didn’t last too long. With a deep breath, you gave a small nod, signaling him to continue.

His palm was warm as he slipped beneath the fabric, tracing soft patterns on your skin. You tensed momentarily at the initial contact, then relaxed into his touch as he gently skimmed along, drawing invisible lines towards the soft skin where your breast met your ribcage. He paused yet again, this time as if he was waiting for any sign from you to stop. But you gave none. How could you stop when every part of your body was trembling with anticipation?

When he realized that you weren’t pulling away, his large palm covered your breast.

You let out an audible gasp.

In all the time you had known him, Spencer was the type of person who approached everything with caution and thoughtfulness, and maybe even a bit reserved. But he was a man full of curiosity, always eager to learn and explore new things, and this time, he was curious about your body.

His hand lingered there, taking in the softness of your skin before his palm molded around the curve of your breast, fingers stretching out to feel the delicate flesh beneath. The pressure was light at first, almost tentative, as if he were gauging your reaction. He then moved his thumb to trace the outline of your nipple, causing it to harden under his touch.

Your skin prickled with arousal as he continued to tease you, brushing over the sensitive peak over and over again until he was satisfied. There was a certain confidence in his movement now, as though he were familiarizing himself with your body. When you arched your back, he responded by pinching your nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently, drawing a quiet moan from you.

His own breath was hot and uneven against your neck. You pushed your hips back into him, feeling the firm pressure of his growing arousal against your body. The sensation made you crave more—no, you needed more. Before you could second guess yourself, you pulled his hand away from your breast, only to guide it further down.

His fingers followed your lead, sliding over your stomach and down towards the waistband of your shorts. You felt his breath grow shallow as he realized where you were leading him. He hesitated for a moment, but when you parted your legs for him, his hesitation dissolved. His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your shorts, and with daring boldness, he let his fingers slide under your panties as well.

The moment he made contact with your bare skin, a shiver ran through your body. He ran his fingertips along the length of your folds with genuine curiosity as if he was wondering how you managed to be this wet already. His fingers slid over your slickness, up, down, and then back up again before he found your throbbing clit. 

Your chest began to heave, your hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over you casually. He circled your clit with slow precision, the pads of his fingers finding just the right pressure to make you gasp. A strained moan escaped your lips, more like a cry of need than anything else, and Spencer seemed to sense your desperation. 

He withdrew his hand from you, and you almost voiced a protest, but it died in your throat as he pushed your shorts down your legs. You quickly helped him, slipping off your panties before you settled back onto your side. But he stopped you, pulling you slightly onto your back so you were half-lying on the bed and half atop him.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as he slowly parted your legs. He positioned one of them over his, leaving you fully exposed. You could feel his ragged breath against your ear as his hand moved down the length of your inner thigh. You squirmed when he finally reached your heat.

He traced the outer edges of your folds, teasing you with light, feathery touches before he slipped lower, finding your entrance. He teased you there, dipping just inside before retreating, a drawn-out moan tumbling past your parted lips. He repeated the motion, each time going a little deeper, until finally, he pushed two fingers inside.

The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. His fingers were long, stretching you in ways that made your toes curl. You watched the way his arm flexed, his muscles tensing as he pumped his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. He hit a spot inside you that left you gasping and panting, and your desperate hand sought purchase, sliding up behind you. You reached into the soft hair at the back of his head, threading carelessly through the tousled strands as he leaned closer, planting open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

Your moans grew louder, more urgent, as he continued to thrust his fingers deeper. The pressure built inside your lower stomach, and you could feel the unmistakable rhythm of his hips rutting against your ass. He was hard, his cock straining through the fabric of his pants, brushing against your bare skin with every thrust. Another drive of his hips had you clenching around his fingers, and suddenly, the sweetest noise flew past your ears.

A groan. A very small one, hardly above a whisper, but it was rich and coarse.

The sound only heightened your pleasure, and now you were seconds away from shattering. Your grip on his hair tightened as you turned your head towards him. He responded immediately, his mouth capturing yours desperately, a meeting of tongues and teeth that left you both breathless. You clung onto him as his fingers quickened their pace, and all you could hear was the filthy sound your body was making.

Everything was suddenly too much, and before you knew it, the tension coiled within you snapped. A wave of intense pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling and crying out against his mouth. Your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, your inner muscles clenching around his fingers as he continued to drive into you, his hips grinding desperately against your ass.

You were now panting, trying to focus through the haze of your orgasm as you felt the hard length of him straining against his pants. You shifted slightly, arching your back to give him better access, and the new angle allowed him to press even closer. His fingers slipped from you, and he grabbed your hip, using it as leverage to grind himself harder, rutting his hips against you with an urgent rhythm.

With a final, forceful thrust, he found his release as a moan that sounded more strained and desperate, almost like a whine, escaped his lips. His body tensed and then relaxed, the tension melting away as he clung to you, his breath heavy and warm against your mouth.

For a moment, you stayed like that, both of you trying to catch your breath. But then the silence that followed became too palpable, stretching on as neither of you seemed ready to break it. You should probably say something, anything to fill the void, but neither of you seemed able to find the right words.

The quiet grew, and you suddenly became acutely aware of everything around you—how your leg was still draped over his, the feeling of his arousal still pressing against you, and the way the cool air brushed your exposed skin. And somehow, amidst it all, you began to feel a creeping sense of unease.

You began to resent how you had allowed yourself to be swept up in the moment. You began to hate your lack of self-control. When your brain was no longer clouded by lust, your thoughts became clear, and now you felt foolish for letting things go this far, for not guarding your emotions as well as your body.

Spencer opened his mouth, but you didn’t want to hear whatever regrets he might voice. You sensed it in the way he slightly pulled away, the way he loosened his grip around you as if he too was trying to make sense of everything. The last thing you needed was to hear those doubts spoken out loud.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The air felt thick, almost suffocating. The more you stayed there, the more you felt like drowning. It was all becoming too much. So you slipped away from his arms, trying to create some much-needed space between you. You didn’t look back as you headed towards the bathroom.

You didn’t look back as he called out your name.

[whoskimii]

Could you Do a Kinda detailed makeout with Gojo! 🤠

yummy i love that :3

⋆౨ৎ˚ notes > satoru x you. basically a heavy and steamy makeout with your manzz <33 think we all need that! he knows he's fine frfr. tell me if i missed anything!! ^^ ౨ৎ warning : you may have butterflies in your belly while reading this!! 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

satoru had never been an insecure guy. whether it's about his looks or even you, his girlfriend. hell, he even loves showing his pretty baby off. he's always been confident.

but the way that guy looked at you in public didn't sit right with him. that fucker seemed to have a ring on his finger and he looked much older than you. ew.

your boyfriend could swear he was eye-fucking you. if it wasn't for your boyfriend at your side, he was sure that he would've done much worse than just looking at your ass. satoru wasn't having any of it.

he brought you back home and you could sense that he was pissed. like, actually pissed. but not at you, obviously. it wasn't your fault if you were so, so pretty :( he was mad at that gross bastard. and he definitely needed something to calm down. turns out that something was you.

that's why you found yourself on your boyfriend's lap, arms around his neck as his tongue explored your mouth. your pants were off. your panties were the only thing covering your wet little folds from his greedy fingers.

you whimpered softly into the kiss as you felt his bulge pressing against your core. the friction between your panties and his sweatpants was delicious, to say the least. you felt like you could come from this alone.

your hips instantly reciprocated and you began grinding against him as your pretty manicured hands tugged at his disheveled white strands. "fuck, baby," he groaned against your lips. "lemme see..." his hand made its way towards your panties. soon enough, you felt the coldness of his fingertips circling your throbbing little clit.

"aw, damn... y'so fucking wet... i barely even touched you yet..." he murmured into your ear as his middle and ring fingers began teasing your dripping entrance. "'toru... don't tease..."

he chuckled against your lips before kissing your neck, occasionally leaving love bites all over your skin. "no ? why shouldn't i ? s'fun, watching my baby get all flustered just from a lil' teasing..." he mumbled. "just... please..." you whined. "aw, you sound so pretty, angel... s'just my fingers rubbing your pretty pussy... what's it gonna be when it's gonna be my cock, huh ?" he smirked lazily. his cocky expression made you want to fuck him senseless.

"shut up..." you mumbled as he pulled down his sweatpants just enough to free his boxers. his bulge was so pretty against his boxers that just the sight of it made you lick your lips. "oh ? what was that, mhm ? what about putting that pretty tongue to work ?" you tugged on his hair and he moaned.

"baby... don't make me get noisy... we already had complaints, last time..." you hummed. "don't care." he chuckled at your feisty answer and rolled you onto your back as he climbed on top of you. "what a naughty girl..." he whispered and went back to grinding his hips into yours. the pace was tortuously slow. your eyes rolled back as he hummed. "that's it, sweet girl... give it t'me..." he breathed. "give it t'me, love..."

you felt the familiar warm bubble in your lower tummy tightening dangerously. "'toru..." you gasped softly. "i know, baby, i know... m'right here... s'alright." he ground his hips against yours one last time and you came in your panties. "theeere you go... that's it, love... such a good fucking girl..."

as you finally came down from your high, your boyfriend kissed your flushed cheek. "think y'can do that around my cock, now ?"

you definitely can.

what a mannNN <33

⋆˚࿔ kimi 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[writella]

The Confession

Synopsis: Confessions shared with the wrong person gone so sinfully right.

Details: rick grimes x reader, afab!reader, smut—masturbation, unprotected sex, riding, both rick and reader being desperate in the dark. I made the exact reason for the confession and occasion very vague. 18+, wc: 2.6k. Proof read, but there might be some errors.

A/N: Not sure how much I like this one, but I had this idea back in early October and I wanted to finish it and give you guys something after a whole month.

I miss you, I’m sorry. Hope you’re all well!! With love from writella. ♡

Your voice is solemn and heavy as you sigh before starting, “I don’t do this very often,” you say, “I hope this is okay.” Your eyes lowering shamefully as you stop. It’s only the first sentence and you’re finding it hard to continue. It’s almost as if there are needles piercing into your throat. “I just feel so embarrassed,” you admit.

Then you pause.

No response from him comes after.

Only silence fills the dark and hallow space of the wooden confession box. Only your thoughts, every creak you made on the built-in bench, and the light wind that rustled from the cracked door were heard.

You wait a second longer.

Hoping.

But still, nothing.

Part of you was suspecting that Gabriel would have been more inviting, telling you it’s okay; and doing so with his kind and gentle voice, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t doing anything it seemed. You only saw the silhouette of his face when you walked inside— the outline of a nose and mouth, really. He seemed to be sitting as far from the small barred window as he could, but you didn’t dare look again. You didn’t even turn on the light fixture in the corner. Your fear was all too big, and his unwavering quietness made it worse.

Maybe you had come at the wrong time, maybe you interrupted him. You almost wanted to ask. But maybe confessions happened in complete silence… you didn’t know anymore, but at this point, you were hoping so. You had already wasted five minutes and managed only one sentence. Perhaps he heard the fear in your voice and was just trying to be a good listener… yes, maybe, you pretend as you urged yourself to start again:

You breathe in sharply, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The words come out in an uneasy, hushed whisper. “It happens a lot and I know it’s wrong. And you’re probably going to look at me differently after this, but I have to tell someone so I can stop.”

Your eyes screw shut, the next phrase coming out jumbled and continuous as you try to explain yourself quickly: “I’ve journaled about it and told myself it’s wrong but it’s not helping.” You start to weep, almost laughing at yourself, “I feel so stupid.”

You sigh and you almost think you hear him do so too, but you keep going.

“I’ve been thinking about someone,” you finally say. “For a long time. And I know it’s bad, I know it, but I do it anyway. It's all I think about.”

Another pause.

You catch your breath.

You wait.

But nothing.

So, you start again.

“I think I love him sometimes.” And if you couldn’t get any more timid, your cheeks flush, and your voice grows quieter, “I like his hair, and his eyes, those button-downs he always wears…” you smile at yourself, these were silly things, “Even his beard.”

And then you hear him shuffle, and a light sound is emitted.

It startles you, but silence ensues again thereafter. Maybe you imagined it.

“I like his kindness too. People would usually say strong or giving, but that’s what I like to tell him— that he’s kind. I think he’s kinder than other people give him credit for. He’s just protective. Everyone, and especially himself, we put a lot of pressure on him to make the hard decisions, but, really…” and there it is, “that's not the only way I think about him. There are things–” your throat tightens again– “ things that I think about. And things that I do.” Your eyes screw tight as you force yourself to say it, “I touch myself.”

Another bout of silence comes before the question.

One you’d never suspect.

“Can you describe it?” The voice asks, dark and curious.

The cool spring air of the night turns cold, but it adds no relief to the summer heat that burns in your heart as it begins to beat painfully. The texture in his voice, the inflection at the end that lined the sentence as a request, it rings through one ear and out the other and back again in a cycle.

You knew who it was.

“What?” You shriek so lightly as if playing dumb would help you now. He knew who you were talking about, you made it so desperately obvious.

“Can you,” he repeats steadily, “describe it?”

“I… shouldn’t.”

“What other better time could there be?” You can’t tell if he truly means it. His voice remains firm and lets out no hints of his true intentions, but despite doubt, you start anyway. He’s right after all, you’re in here because there hasn’t been a better time.

“I- I start by touching up my thighs, trailing up slowly… I always get so nervous… I never do it fast because I know I shouldn’t do it while thinking about you- about him,” you correct yourself, squeezing your thighs together, your hands gripping the bench tightly.

“But you do it anyway.”

“I do,” you reply meekly.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I can't.”

“What happens when you finally reach all the way up?”

“Gotta touch myself.”

He puts his hands on his knees, making sure his voice stays leveled. “Where do you start?”

“Rubbing my clit.”

“Do it.”

And then you do. You truly can’t help it. Your fingers slide down your hips to the front of your heat, chilly fingers pressing up against your lips over your underwear.

He hears the little sigh as you finally allow your finger to reach your clit in between.

“How does it feel?”

“My fingers are cold right now, so,” a quick breathy laugh leaves you, “ good, really good.” You rub your fingers in slow circles, but your hand and hips jerk, forcing you to speed up, but you try, try to not seem so pathetic to yourself as if there was any attempt at going back now.

His voice’s a slight strain as he asks, “And what do you think about?” He starts to rub his thighs, feeling his cock stir to the side of his jeans, making the material feel tighter than it truly was. His fingers trail closer, knuckles brushing against his erection. He’s pretending like he can stop himself too. “What does he do in your head, sweetheart?”

“He watches,” you say as your movements speed up again. You really can’t help it now, his voice edges you on. Your hand goes under the band of your underwear, fingers collecting wetness below to bring up to your clit, “He’s standing at the edge of the bed,” you tell him, “he’s unbuttoning his shirt, and then he starts taking off his belt… He’s smiling.”

If only you knew that hearing how bad you wanted him was making him do the same thing on the other side.

You’re panting now, one foot comes up to the bench as you slide yourself over to press your back into the corner of the wall, your head tilting back as well, using the assistance to grind into your hand. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

“That's cause are.” He’s lowered his pants now and takes his cock out from under his boxers. Your words make his mouth gape and his eyes close as he begins to stroke himself. “You really are.”

His smile fades as he bites down on his lip lightly. You’re so needy for him and so desperate to admit it. It makes him feel powerful. Almost God-like, despite you both starring as the other’s tempter. So sweet and sinful the sounds you’re making are. How could he not give in? How could he not make you wet for him even at church and stroke his cock as it happens? You’re making it so easy with every whine and little moan you try to withhold. He could hear you getting restless, but he wants to make you want it more, “Keep goin’,” he tells you. “What’s happening now?”

“I put two fingers in,” you whine, “not big enough. Never enough.”

You let your two fingers stay inside you as you press your palm down on your pussy, rubbing your clit with the underside of your hand. You stop for a moment to take off your pants and underwear entirely, discarding it on the floor before you return to your spot. You put one leg up on the bench as you continue to finger yourself.

“I want him so bad.”

“How bad, sweetheart? What would you let him do?”

“Anything, Rick.” You say it louder than you intend, you’re losing yourself. “Anything for him.”

“Anything?”

“Everything.”

After that only nonsense comes out, simple sounds of desire and pleads. It was becoming too much to talk.

Rick felt the same. His hand on his shaft made quick and short movements, his lips parted and pink, more red on the bottom than the top from when bit his lip again at the words anything and everything for him. He repeated it in his mind, listening to your sweet little whines in the present. His head tilts so far back that it bangs on the wooden wall and he hisses.

It reminds him to compose himself.

Even after you let out another moan of his name, and he swears he could almost hear just how wet you are now, the squish of your fingers going in and out, louder and louder.

He swallows hard and takes a breath before he says, “What if I say I want you in here right now?”

That’s when your movements completely stop. You can hear the wind swirling again. You were speechless.

He turns to the netted window. You two can’t see each other but you know he’s looking. “C’mere.” He says slowly. “Now.”

And after that, your body takes control. Swift and instantaneous you move from your door to his, shutting it hard. You don’t even take a moment to look at him, it was too dark anyway, and that’s not what mattered. You’ve already dreamed of his curls, and the pierce of his blue eyes. You knew what he looked like. It’s time to know how he felt.

Rick takes off his shoes and fully lowers and discards his pants. Before he could even consider his shirt, you’re on top of him. You’re kissing his face, your lips and tongue missing his lips by just a little, but it doesn’t matter.

You begin to rock, your wet pussy making the length of his cock and thigh slick before it's even inside of you. You couldn’t help yourself and it makes him laugh, all cocky and proud. Something that you’d cross your arms to, even quip back at in any other situation but right now, it’s so fucking hot.

His hands latch onto your hips, his legs slide back to hit the wall. He raises your frame and you grab him. Your sticky fingers lace around his dick and then you both lower yourself down onto him.

You try to bottom out fast, but his nails dig into you, slowing you down. Your face reaches back with a pout and a whine as he says, “Wait,” even after he’s inside of you.

Your pussy quakes around him. You’re both trying to hold it together, but he’s faring much better than you.

His hand holds your jaw, thumbs caressing your cheeks and a tear falls from your eye, all the sensations becoming too much.

His eyes trail the sight as it rolls down and he tells you, “You’re right. I do think you’re beautiful.”

And he kisses you. Tongue slipping past your lips just as quickly as they depart, going to whisper in your ear: “Go on now,” he smiles, “show me everything.”

You begin to rock against him instantly. Initiating the kiss this time, your tongue slips into his mouth but his goes on top of yours. He grabs the back of your neck, deepening it, and you continue to take charge below as you ride him.

You squeeze around his cock tightly with every movement forward and you hear a strangled groan come out of him as his dick twitches at the sensation.

It makes you moan so loudly, you could wake somebody up.

But it doesn't matter.

You could even come right now just from feeling him inside you for the first time.

And it doesn’t matter.

“I've wanted you for so long, Rick!” You tell him.

He’s all that matters.

“You’ve got me.” He tells you breathlessly, kissing down your neck with his hand tugging on your hair. “You always could’ve.”

Now you know you’re all that matters too.

Your head tilts to the side, eyes closed, and mouth open for each pretty sigh and slight hiss that come out as he bites and kisses.

His hands lower to the hem of your shirt and he pulls it off. You start to undo the buttons on his too.

It’s fast and rushed and messy, but now your chests can meet. You press into him. Your hips are rocking hard. Your clit meets his pelvic bone making you whine and moan again. “Really good,” you say.

Rick’s hands slide to grab your ass, helping you go faster until they rise to your hips again. His thumbs press into the crevice of your hips and legs and he starts to bounce you on him.

You grip onto his arms, assisting him in his efforts. Your eyes are still closed, you’re smiling— already in a state of bliss, yet relishing in the fact that he was pushing you further and further into the dream-like feeling that was to come: your orgasm was close, and the string of airy moans made it evident to you both.

The way his hands move to caress your waist, trail up your back, roll over your arms, and back down again feels like gliding on ice. You felt him everywhere.

“Come on,” he tells you.

“I'm trying, I want to.”

“I know,” he affirms. He takes hold of your upper arms, letting his hands slide down to yours that tightly gripped his biceps and placed them on his shoulders.

You bounce yourself down on him harder, switching it up to rock on him and give your clit attention, then repeat it again.

Once you’re back to bouncing Rick takes one hand on your hip, helping you go faster while the other rubs your clit as vigorously as he can.

Your mouth is open wide, pants and squirms, and pleads coming out wildly. You almost feel like you’re making the whole box jump along with you as you bounce, and bounce, and bounce, and then… there it is: you shout his name and he speaks back to you, you both come together and ride out your high.

A glow emits as you smile, your head crashing into his as you catch your breath.

Then a noise erupts.

The church door closes.

Steps become louder and louder until they reach the open confession box door.

Rick puts his finger to your lips, silently quieting you both. Your eyes are owl wide knowing what the person in the next section would find in there. You almost squirm but Rick slots his finger into your mouth to stop it. “Quiet,” he mouths as the person next to you drops the wet garments they just touched, almost running out of the place as fast as they could.

You lower your face to his shoulder. Embarrassed, you sigh, “What are we gonna do now?”

Rick is unfazed: “Well,” he starts, picking you up by the hips, securing your legs as you wrap them around him, “we could do this one more time.”

He locks the church door and then walks you down the aisle and onto the podium, placing you gently on the ground. He’s standing above you. Just like it all your daydreams.

It was his turn now.

[candycandy00]

His Good Girl - An Umemiya x Reader Fanfic

Sold to a local mafia syndicate by your indebted parents, you’re forced to “entertain” a visiting rival mafia head named Umemiya. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Umemiya as a 20-something mafia boss. Dubcon. Oral sex. Inexperienced Reader. Umemiya is a sweetheart. 

This is my first time writing Umemiya so please be gentle! Any feedback is adored! This was inspired by a bizarre dream I had and the idea refused to leave my brain. I might write a follow up if there’s any interest. Divider by @benkeibear.

Your parents owed the local mafia way more money than they could ever repay, so they basically handed you over as payment the day you turned 19. It’s only been a week, and so far you’re still uncertain what your job will be here. You figured you’d be shoved into some brothel, but thankfully, not yet. 

The whole mafia mansion is abuzz today because of some meeting taking place tonight. Apparently they’re hosting the heads of several local mafia families to try to negotiate territories and boundaries. An older lady comes in and explains to you and ten other young women what your roles will be.

To keep the heads of the other families happy and compliant, the plan is to have you and the other women “entertain” them. You feel a knot in your stomach, already guessing what that might entail. Then she goes over the details, and it’s somehow worse. You’re to spend the entirety of the meeting, which could take hours, cockwarming them. With your mouths. You won’t be allowed to take their dicks out of your mouths unless they have to leave the room, and your job will be to make them cum as many times as possible. 

The men in charge of this family seem to think it will be amusing, watching all these stoic, powerful men trying to keep their cool while pretty ladies are on their knees in front of them, sucking them off all evening. 

You feel sick to your stomach, but you don’t argue or protest. You’re told that doing this one job will cut your parents’ debt in half. The sooner you work it off, the sooner you can be free of this place. So you grimly prepare with the other women, dressing up in tantalizing outfits and putting on makeup. You’ll try your best, even though you have no experience with this sort of thing. 

When the meeting starts, you and the other women are already in the room. There’s a half circle of eleven chairs, and you watch in trepidation as the guests begin walking in. 

None of them are gross, at least. Most are fairly attractive, even the slightly older ones. And to a man, they are all dressed impeccably. Figures. No self respecting mafia head is going to show up looking like a slob. 

The last man to arrive catches your eye, for a number of reasons. The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. Really tall. He towers over everyone else in the room. The second thing you notice is that he’s incredibly handsome. He has fine features, soft white hair that’s mostly slicked back, a few strands falling into his bright blue eyes. He’s younger than the rest. You’d guess mid twenties. He’s radiant, smiling in a friendly manner, wearing a long jacket that’s been left unbuttoned. It’s a casual style that would look unpolished on anyone else, but on him it looks stylish. 

The women behind you are whispering, but you can’t hear what they’re saying. Are they talking about him?

The hosting mafia head explains the plans for the meeting, and why the women are there. Almost all of the visiting heads seem excited, but you notice the tall, beautiful man seems unhappy with the idea. 

“That sounds pretty miserable for the ladies,” he says, glancing at the group of women. 

The hosting mafia boss who owns you laughs. “Nonsense! They all feel honored to be able to serve such distinguished gentlemen! Isn’t that right, ladies?”

All of the women, including you, slowly nod. A few of them even put on phony smiles. The handsome man’s eyes meet yours for a brief moment. Can he see the near panic in them? 

“Regardless, I think I’ll respectfully decline,” he says. 

One of the other guests slaps him playfully on the back. “What’s wrong, Umemiya? Afraid you won’t last as long as the rest of us?”

So his name is Umemiya. He gives the other man an awkward smile. “Haha, maybe.”

The host narrows his eyes. “If you decline, we’ll take that as an insult to our hospitality, and we’ll have to ask you to leave the meeting.”

Umemiya looks back at the man, and though his friendly expression doesn’t change, there’s a gleam in his eyes, like a quiet anger bubbling beneath the surface. Then he sighs and says, “Fine. I guess I’ll accept your… hospitality.”

All the men take seats in the half circle, including the host, who is clearly excited to begin. Then he looks at the women and says, “Ladies, I’ll allow you the honors of choosing tonight.”

You and the other women stand there awkwardly for a moment. You hear one of them say in a low voice to another, “That guy’s gorgeous but I’m definitely not picking him.”

You turn to face her. “Huh? Why not?”

Her voice is a whisper. “Oh, honey. Think about it. A guy that tall is gonna have a huge dick. I don’t want to choke all night. It would be unbearable. A shame though, he actually seems nice.”

You watch nervously as the women begin selecting their men for the evening. The more handsome ones are taken first, then the others, until only Umemiya remains. You realize with shock, and embarrassment, that you have to pick him. You shyly approach, your hands fiddling with the hem of the too short skirt you were told to wear. 

He looks up at you with an uneasy grin. “Guess I was last picked. That’s kind of embarrassing!” Then his eyes seem to focus on your face. “How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen,” you squeak out. 

He sighs again. “At least you’re an adult.” He gives you a warm smile. “I’m sorry about this. I’ll try to make this as easy on you as possible, so let’s try to get through it together.”

You feel your heart flutter. You can’t believe how nice he is, on top of being ridiculously good looking. Maybe this won’t be so bad. 

The other women begin dropping to their knees in front of their chosen men, so you do the same, feeling completely out of your depth. 

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks as he begins unbuckling his belt. 

You shake your head. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, then he looks at you apologetically. “I’m really sorry about this.”

Huh? Why does he keep apologizing? He was basically threatened into doing this, same as you. But those thoughts freeze in your brain when you see the enormous organ he just pulled out of his pants. 

Ehhhhhh???? Is this thing for real?! Surely they’re not supposed to be that big! You glance to the side, and the woman to your right is staring at it with bulging eyes. Then she gives you a pitying look. 

Umemiya himself looks a little embarrassed. “Uh, it gets a little bigger when I’m fully hard. Just thought I’d warn you.”

It gets bigger?! How?! You try to contain your shock as you eye the imposing shaft. 

The host claps twice to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s begin the meeting! Ladies, remember to keep those cocks all the way in your mouths! And don’t forget to keep those tongues busy!”

You look back at the cock in front of you with alarm. The women beside you both lean forward and take dicks into their mouths. You couldn’t help noticing that those dicks looked tiny by comparison to Umemiya’s. 

“Take your time,” he says to you in a comforting voice, “ease it in slowly. It’s okay if your teeth touch it, just try not to bite down.”

“O-okay,” you say, leaning your face forward and opening your mouth. It’s already bigger than when he first pulled it out, quickly growing hard despite his reluctance to participate. You feel it press in past your lips, dragging across your tongue, and finally hit the back of your throat. That’s it. That’s as far as it goes, right? 

Looking forward, you can see that he’s not all the way in your mouth. Your eyes flick toward the host, worried that he’ll notice. Umemiya seems to notice. “Try to relax your throat,” he tells you. “That’s it, you’re doing good.”

His voice sends goosebumps across your skin as his massive cock slides even further in, going partially down your throat. 

“Breathe through your nose,” he says. 

Your hands are on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his pants. You’re gagging slightly, trying to keep it under control and focus on breathing. At least he smells nice, like fresh citrus. 

The meeting begins. The host starts talking, but you can’t listen to him. Your full attention is on the giant cock in your mouth. Occasionally you hear one of the men grunt or groan, but overall they seem to be trying to focus on the meeting. Umemiya is eerily calm, maintaining his usual expression and only glancing down to meet your gaze every so often. 

After what feels like forever, your jaw is sore and your throat aches. Tears fill your eyes. When Umemiya notices, he looks at you guiltily before moving one large hand over to gently rub the top of your head. “Good girl,” he says, “you’re taking me really well.”

The statement makes heat spread over your face. Then you remember that you’re supposed to be making him cum. The thought of it makes you excited somehow. You feel the urge to pleasure him, to make him feel good. He’s been so sweet to you after all. He hasn’t moved at all, letting you do things at your own pace. Looking up at his face, it’s clearer than ever how gorgeous he is. 

You tighten your lips around his base, your tongue gliding across the underside of his shaft while your tight throat constricts around his tip. He looks down at you suddenly, blue eyes slightly widened, another strand of his hair slipping down across his forehead. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly. 

You wish you could tell him that you want to. Instead you continue, licking him and sucking out the gooey precum from his tip. You hear his breath catch in his throat, but he makes no other reaction. 

He holds out for longer than you expected, even speaking to the host at one point. But eventually his hand grips your hair, and for the first time you feel a bit of force from him as he pushes your head down, his cock going halfway down your throat and choking you. Immediately, you feel his warm cum flood your mouth, coating the back of your tongue and oozing down your neck. 

His hand quickly releases you, and he mutters another apology. His face looks slightly flushed, and he’s breathing a little harder. Oh god, he looks so hot right now. You feel a growing dampness between your legs as you stare up at him, his now soft cock still in your mouth. 

Right away you begin gently suckling on the sticky flesh, your tongue pressing into the tip.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna be hard again in no time,” he tells you. 

You look up at him, hoping he can read your intentions from your eyes. You want to pleasure him, again and again. 

He pats your head affectionately. “You’re so cute.”

Ahh? Did this unbelievably beautiful man, who happened to be a powerful mafia boss, just call you cute? You feel yourself blushing. You’re not sure if it’s possible to fall in love with a man while his cock is in your mouth, but you think you just did. 

By the time the long, boring meeting ends, you’ve made him cum twice more, both times feeding you his tasty cum and calling you his “good girl”. 

After it’s over, you pull away, your jaw stiff and hurting. Your mouth is a mess, wet and sticky, covered in drool and cum. A handkerchief appears in front of your face, and you look up to find Umemiya holding it out to you with a friendly smile. You take it, wiping your mouth before he stands and helps you to your feet. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

You move your jaw a bit, then wince. “I’ll be okay,” you answer. 

He stares at you for a moment, then asks, “How did you end up here?”

You glance around to make sure no one is paying attention. “My parents owed a debt, so they gave me as payment.”

Umemiya frowns. “Let me guess, their debt transferred to you.”

You nod. 

“Alright then,” he says. “I’ll pay off your debt if you’ll come work for me.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be a legitimate job, nothing like this. And you’d be free to come and go as you please.”

“You’d do that for me?” you ask. “Why?”

He scratches the back of his head, looking a little awkward. “Maybe I imagined it, but it felt like there was something between us. Not just the physical stuff. Was it just me?”

“No! I felt it too!” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to tell him your panties are soaked. 

He gives you a heated look. “Then maybe I can return the favor.”

Your skin flushes as you press your thighs together in anticipation. “I’d like that.”

He grins. “I’ll go talk to the boss. Just wait here for me.”

He walks away, and you feel your heart beating so fast, you feel like it might burst. You smile happily, ready to begin your new, much better life. 

[oneluckydumbass]

You couldn't hold back the tears anymore. The stress of the last hours, the uncertainty, the panic that was clearly visible on the others’ faces were more than enough to push you over the edge. As you sat on the floor with your back against the wall, you rested your forehead on your pulled up knees and struggled to stop crying. You should pull yourself together, you shouldn't show such weakness.

But then you felt a gloved hand on your bare shoulder, reminding you that you weren't alone in this. Ghost was there when those canisters released an unknown substance in the room, which is why the two of you were now quarantined together.

“They'll figure it out,” he said in his deep voice, although you could tell his tone was laced with hopelessness.

You couldn't blame him, you were also feeling hopeless. How could you not? They didn't know what that was, and the symptoms would surely get worse with time. The headache and the nausea was already on the threshold of being unbearable, you couldn't even begin to imagine what else was about to come.

Apparently there was something wrong with the blood sample you both gave. You weren't a doctor, you had no idea what the issue was, but they sounded serious. You didn't want to die. Your job was risky, sure, but dying from a bullet still seemed like the better option.

Before you knew it, Simon sat next to you then put an arm around your shoulder so he could force you to rest with your head on his shoulder. Through the mask, he pressed a soft kiss on your head, causing you to look at him with wide eyes.

“What? There's a chance we'll die here, I'm not gonna spend it as if we were just simple teammates,” he informed you.

The thought of him being so openly affectionate warmed your heart. Simon Riley, the man who always made sure to keep his softer side behind closed doors when he was alone with you, was now ready to let the entire team know you were together as a couple. Happy and in love, although you didn't think you would go into details about how you were already talking about starting a little family of your own.

The only sound came from the buzzing neon lights on the ceiling, filling the heavy silence that was making you more and more depressed as the minutes passed. A doctor came in to check your vitals, noted that Simon had fever, then left without saying anything about what they knew so far.

“I love you, Simon,” you quietly noted as you reached out to take his hand that was resting on his thigh.

With a short laugh he pulled up the mask a little and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, savoring the moment, turning it into a core memory. Because this was an important moment for the both of you, a slow and emotional goodbye in case you didn't make it.

“If we get out of here,” he began cautiously as you lay down with your head resting on his legs, “would you marry me? And I mean it, I don't want a long engagement or a big wedding, I just want to make it official as soon as possible.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us.”

You pulled off the glove from his hand and placed a soft kiss on it. His big, calloused hand gave you the comfort you needed now, long fingers lacing with yours in an attempt to calm you down. It would have been a nice moment under different circumstances.

Suddenly Soap walked in, wearing a hazmat suit, but even that wasn't enough to hide the wide grin on his face. “Okay, so we left cameras here to know if you're okay, which is how we heard everything. We agreed that you're idiots because one, we knew about the two of you all along, and two, there's no way you can run away like that to get married.”

Shaking his head, Simon leaned back against the wall as he looked up at the sergeant. “What's the point if we die here anyway?” he asked with a sigh.

To your surprise, Soap took off the helmet with a laugh. “I forgot to mention; the doc gave you the green light. You won't die. It's… I don't know, I was too busy celebrating that you'll live to listen to what he said. Come on, Lt., time to go home.”

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑀𝑦 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛 𝐶𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑...

Inspiration: this, this, this, this,

A/N: As per request, and a high demand, this is like a part of the Creator!Reader AU drabble I wrote some time ago! Though there is a mention about a gender in the end, since the Creator/God of Teyvat could change genders/ forms if wanted, I didn't see a problem with that one!

A/N: PLEASE SEND ME SOME NEUVI NEUVI FLUFF REQUESTS ( especially papa ones with melusines) I'M BEGGING! THIS ONE TOOK A HUGE TOLL ON ME LOL AND BECAUSE MY MIND ONLY WORKS FOR ANGST AND LORE THESE DAYS, I NEED A DISTRACTION-

Warnings: THIS SHIT IS LONG, LIKE VERY! Hints, not so much now, of Neuvi Neuvi being the Hydro Dragon and the Sovereign, hints of past abuse and violence but not detailed, reader being a simp in general

Part1

Ever since coming to the nation of justice, and obviusly water, you had never felt such immense comfort and safety at the mostly silent city, with water sounds mixing. After running away from almost all the nations with the exception of Sumeru, Snezhnaya, Natlan and of course Fontaine whose eyes weren't blinded by anything and rather listened to you, sheltered you and gave you friends after being on the wild all on your own...

The calm and safety you felt was weird.

After all, it wasn't you who asked to be the Creator of this game you loved dearly. You were just a simple, non-important human in your world. Going to school and work, study, try to stay alive, make food for yourself, sleep and repeat the cycle...

And suddenly, you were the "Beloved" Creator of all these characters? But they still hunted you down and there were a few who supported you?? And now you were playing with the tiny and adorable melusines by the pond while being married with the one you loved?

You would have said bullshit on Earth but now, as you giggled at the many melusines fighting for your attention while one of the much younger ones laid between your arms with short and warm breaths fanning your neck softly...

Maybe all the trouble you went through was worth it.

"I want to braid Their Grace's hair!"

"You already did it yesterday, and the day before that too!"

You watched as Puca and Serene bickered together, both of them pushing the other away behind you and tugging on your hair rather harshly without realizing from time to time. You already knew that wincing would make things worse, since they were all so fond of you that they hated the idea of inflicting you with any kind of pain and would wail which would later leave you with hundreds of melusines to comfort with an awkward smile.

It had gotten bad especially after the eldest of them told how "bad things" happened to you... but now You had them and their "papa" and were happier than ever!

"Their Grace will have a date with Monsieur Neuvillette~ So, let's stop bickering and make Them even more pretty!" A fierce blush took over your whole face, warming your cheeks cutely as the younger melusines cooed and giggled, holding onto their hands together and jumping up and down excitedly at the fact that their "papa" and "Mama/dad" were going out like the spouses they saw on the streets of Fontaine. You didn't... exactly have a gender, and considering you appeared in different forms for safety to other nations, especially Inazuma and Liyue who had been... rather passionate about killing you, you would often come back to the loving embrace of your husband and daughters tired, completely forgetting about your form which was different than the one they always saw you.

It still made you stiffle laughs whenever you remembered the way the melusines gasped and looked at you and their papa snuggled under a blanket so lovingly like he always did with their mama/dad...

Poor things cried their eyes out because they thought Neuvilette was being unfaithful to you and didn't stop until they truly saw you and ran at you, never leaving your side at all and gave their papa nasty eyes... which made him also cry because he never thought of such thing happening, not when even his eyes wouldn't stray from your glowing body as you slotted your fingers with his, swinging your joined hands proudly while walking around the city with him next to you as he blushed and softly looked at you.

Not when his unbeating heart, after you disappeared, started to beat once again at your fragile form in the courtroom and he put his coat over your shivering form, eyes glossy with gratefulnes as you accepted it with shaky hands and a silent and meek thank you that pierced and squeezed his chest.

Not when he finally found his mate, his true love, though it was the Creator he always held affection for and waited for millenias for you to return back once more to grace him with your light.

No one could deny the obvious feelings between you and the Chief Justice who wouldn't be too far away from you ever since you entered the city and looked at him with fearful eyes, even when you two weren't courting yet alone being married. No one blamed you for your obvious fear, they caught wind of what happened and had a brief idea after all. So, instead, they acted kind to you and offered to tell you about themselves and the city after you begged them (which felt wrong because weren't they supposed to be on their knees for you?) to call you by your name and act normal. Through time, they saw how happier and more expressive you had become at the way they acted with you, often seeing you play with the children or help out Lady Furina with meetings, or just sit with them for a lunch as they talked about the latest gossips or trends...

Such as how the other nations were suffering because of the lack of your presence, and how theirs were flourishing even more as the days passed.

Even the people knew how jealous the other nations and their people were that Fontaine was the city you favoured, that their archon was your friend and the next important person, their Chief Justice, was your spouse. And people of Fontaine was extremely smug and happy about it, happier than they had ever been, at the fact that the Creator wanted to share Their eternity with their Chief Justice, that he was the one who held your affection and love. Neuvilette seemed like he never cared about what people said about him, at least about the Chief Justice part of him. He judged according to the laws, which he soon realized was flawed, and did his reports religiously. To the outside, he was a stern and cold man who could never be tender for another, love them as if he was holding a fragile glass, and wanting to protect his love, their love and smile and everything that made him love that one special person.

Yet, the truth couldn't be further from the truth.

Yes, that unloving and cold part of him was a side he often used to not show how affected he would become after every harsh comment... But only those closest to him, melusines and now you, knew it to be completely fake and that Neuvilette always wanted to do his damn best and even more for his people.

You didn't understand why everyone seemed to make you stay away from him when you first started to wander in the city with him not so behind you. He insisted that he would accompany you (after you begged him to go out for fresh air or else you were about to explode out of boredom and he caved in at your puppy eyes) and introduce the city, knowing very well that the people could be rather instantaneous , rash at the first sight of you and you didn't like sudden moves after the events obviously, so he told you that he would be close enough to intervene if something were to happen and enjoy yourself as much as you can.

But there was one thing he didn't consider that day, one thing you didn't have an idea happening which made you whiplash so suddenly that the melusine you held hands with shrunk and thightened her hand over yours, scared: The obvious distaste of the sweet Melusines, even now, and the man that had been nothing but sweet to you, taking care of you at rough nights and whispered sweet things to you.

Going as far as letting you sleep on the couch in his office after much bickering, him insisting that a divine being such as yourself only deserved silk and the softest of beds Teyvat could offer and you whining out that it was him that you needed as you cuddled up to his long coat with a sweet and sleepy smile.

But you didn't like how people were so against him, so hellbent on making you realize that he wasn't a good choice, that he was made out of cold stone and nothing else.

That he didn't know how to even love.

But...

They didn't know how it was you that he had let himself go, to enjoy the simple side of life.

They didn't know how you would catch him staring at and feeding the otters, which you often affectionately called "mini Neuvi", with the softest and most adorable face he ever had and then flush when you caught him in the middle of his petting session and joined him, crouching down next to him.

They didn't know how his heart pounded at being close to you, witnessing your love and kindness to everything and everyone around you from being close to you and how you often held onto his arm thight as you both strolled around with flushed cheeks, under the teasing eyes of the elders of Fontaine who commented how cute you both looked together and how your eyes shone brighter.

He really wanted to know if it was because of the comments or your happiness for being treated like normal bir he didn't know he would learn it soon...

Or, they didn't know how he wished to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you against himself protectively, as if everyone outside was a life-threatening danger to you.

They didn't know the way he silently loomed close to you but still remained in the shadows, just enough to watch you have fun, and smile wide with his own little one tugging on his lips.

They didn't know that he enjoyed it the most whenever you brought whatever you baked, with one of the melusines behind you walking happily, and brought it to him as a thanks for all he did for you. No one has ever done this much for me, you would say and he had to refrain from taking your chin between his gloved hand and softly wipe that frown away. For you, anything he wanted to say many times but always refrained from doing so but as he gazed at your eyes at the time...

He knew you already knew about what he wanted to say, what he wanted to do as your eyes locked in his amethyst eyes and pink lips, chest to chest and standing so close to each other that your breaths mingled together as you both just... Stared at each other.

And they didn't know how he wanted to kiss you, how much you wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to yourself while messing with his perfectly-done hair... To bask in the happiness only he was able to give you, surrounded by perhaps otters and your sweet "daughters" and just... knowing each other.

They didn't know him like you did.

And they didn't know the sweet melusines like you did either.

And... Well, perhaps, they also didn't know how protective you were of them and the wrath of you was a power to beckon with when challenged.

"Born from Calamity, you say. He brings only devestation and pain to those close to him, you say..." your voice, calm yet still had a hidden threatening tone, was carried by the Wind on your command and towards right into their ears. The group that was talking shit behind your family all stiffened up, knowing that they had the attention of their Creator in the worst way possible.

Little Puca's hand shook between yours, which made your anger skyrocket even more, her eyes scaredly looking around as she shuffled closer to your long clothes and held on for dear life. She knew about the dislike from humans through her older sisters but... she didn't think it was this bad even now after many years.

What had they done wrong, except working hard and waiting for the people's approval?

"Y-Your Grace, w-we didn't mean to-"

"You are telling me that you didn't mean to say my daughters couldn't be trusted because you don't know where they are from, and since my husband loves them so much, in extension, he also couldn't be trusted?" You pushed whatever words this... woman had to say right back into her throat as she shivered from terror at your cold, glimmering eyes that held the universe in them pierced through her harshly and she had nothing else to do except bow in shame and hope to be forgiven...

Wrong move though.

"Do you think of me... perhaps, stupid?" You sneered angrily, stopping in the middle of your sentence in fake thinking with a curious finger tapping your chin as absolute and undeniable horror filled the people.

"N-Never, Your Grace-!"

"Then how dare you lie to my face and talk shit about my family? Who do you think you are?" Your voice rang menacingly all over Fontaine, all the water and even Wind stopping, as those who had been nothing but rude to the melusines cowered in fear and those who always stood on their side smiled proudly. You already heard enough, knew that you had been silent for so long which ended up with your family being hurt far longer than they should have and now, the time was over.

With slow and silent steps, you stood before the woman who lifted her head hopefully to look at your face but soon horror found her at the blank face you gave her with your contrasting soft hands holding her face.

"I have been patient, for you all to realize your mistake and fix it but if this goes on any longer... If I need to inflict fear so that your filthy words wouldn't taint my family... Then so be it."

With your final words, you picked Puca up and craddled her between your arms lovingly, whispering sweet soothing words as you told her how papa must have been worried and that you two had to go and meet with the rest as soon as possible.

As the little melusine rambled about whatever picked her interest that day, the fright from before long forgotten as you listened attentively but soon frowned when you felt the cooling sensation of... water, over your face.

And lo behold, soon after your brief talk, it started to rain softly.

You really hoped that your husband didn't hear the commotion, knowing how much it would hurt his gentle heart to hear the people he swore to protect still treat him and his daughters badly. You knew how... Carole's sacrifice affected him, how he started to not trust people and turn his emotions off because of how painful it was for him.

He was the one who told you this, after another nightmare where he couldn't do anything to protect his family, and sobbed on your chest with his beautiful hair all messy, eyes swollen and red as he begged you to forgive him, still affected by the gruesome sight of your body and his hands covered in large gushes and golden blood. And even then, he was the most beautiful sight you ever laid your eyes on.

But, to your horror, he did hear it.

But cried for an entire different reason.

And not long after, it started to rain... which made you think back to all the times it poured, You stared at the sky with a lovesick smile over your face as you stared at Neuvillette's slightly-shaking back, who thought he hid himself well behind the stone sculpture of yours, already planning to go to his office later to comfort your big baby.

Still thinking back to all the times when your sensitive, lovely and gentle husband who appeared to be cold but was actually the cutest man/dragon alive, cried and made it rain... Feared that he ruined everything once again but you begged to differ.

To you, it was the most beautiful show of his own feelings.

1.He saw a cute otter

"Hello, mini Neuvi! How are you?"

This time of the day was perhaps, the most funny and relaxing one for you. Because, after so much work and paper and also Furina's drama, you really needed to blow off some steam and just enjoy your life. Fontaine was a beautiful nation, but sometimes... You just wished to see other ones from more of a close eye, especially Sumeru.

It has been such a long time that you were starting to forget the beautiful greenery there, and how much you enjoyed hanging out with the others who became your friends quickly.

You definetly didn't miss Cyno's dad-jokes and how the others stared in shock when you snorted at one of them-

But, you were happy with where your life was right now. You were safe, happy, had the cutest animals around you, and then there were the sweet and ever-helpfull melusines who were always at your back and call with pretty much anything and...

There was Neuvillette.

You giddily laughed and put your hair behind your ear shyly, even the mention of the usually composed and calm yet so easily flustered man made your heart burst and dance. You wanted to believe that there was something sparking between you two after the many times you hung out with him, and the many times everyone told you that no, Chief Justice never just "hung out" with people and that this was a first.

Probably what sealed the deal for you, and pretty much everyone, was the way he... very obviously had softened gradually.

It was the subtle way he made sure you were okay, always buying a nicely done bouqet on his way for you and slowly, starting to smile more. People, before you came along, often was scared to talk to him because of his "brooding personality". They thought he was someone hard to talk with, which at first was true. The usually expressionless face he always wore made people stay away, and loose the best kind of companionship they could have had by not trying harder to understand him.

Because, deep down, you saw the longing eyes he gave to the couples in Fontaine or the best friends hanging out together happily. He really wanted to have that too, he just didn't know how and therefore, he was seen as heartless and uncaring for any attachments when it was the most wrong thing he ever could be.

Not that you had any complaints, even if that treatment sometimes saddened you, you were happy that it was you he chose to show that side of him even if it was as a result of... a traumatic experience.

"I brought you, and your whole family the most yummy snacks ever! Made by none other than me!" You shook your head at the thoughts to focus on the cute otters who were swimming where you were simply floating, making excited sounds at seeing both their creator and "mama/dada".

A/N: I just want a horde of melusines and otters in my home, is that too much to ask? 🥲🥹

Giggling at their enthusiasm, you happily followed them around for almost all the afternoon and you couldn't lie, it was the best swimming you ever had, with a worry-free mind and heart.

That was, of course, until you felt a panicked presence close before warm hands (contrasting to the cool water around you) circled your middle and a relieved breath on your ear made goosebumps appear on your skin.

"I was worried, Your Grace... No one has seen you today." Your body relaxed visibly at his rich and soothing voice and slacked back ahainst his chest, his arms thightening around your waist without noticing and inhaling your shampoo deeply with a content smile.

"Oh... Yes, I needed some alone time to myself. I'm sorry if I worried you so much." You sheepishly looked at him while still in his soft embrace and he looked down slightly at your face, crinkled with happiness and then, smiled.

Which, obviously, made your heart stop for a second as you internally gushed at how handsome he was.

"It's okay... I know you can protect yourself. Though I wonder what had taken your attention this much?"

An excited gasp left you when you remembered your children and looked around to see them behind a rock, peeking from the corner to look at you fearfully, unsure if it was safe for them to come out again.

"I came to meet my children! Come on, darlings! He is a friend, you are safe with him!"

Neuvillette widened his eyes at your form who was immediately swarmed with the otters, all clinging onto you as soon as the words left your mouth and he couldn't will his heart to stop pounding his chest at the blissful and motherly smile over your face.

It had been some time that he finally admit his feelings for you, after having a long lecture from Furina and Navia herselves about love, feelings and how a romantic relationship works. They literally forced him to look deeper into his heart and just feel what he feels when he is around you, what he wants to do and wished to happen etc. They already had enough of their favourite ship not sailing yet, Furina just wanted some action and Navia... well, she knew he was a good man now and didn't deserve to be lonely all the time so she was eager to help.

Safe to say, even they were shocked and teary-eyed at how sensitive, sensual and romantic he was when it came to you.

And those feelings only intensified with each passing day, after he was more aware of his body's, the dragon in him's reactions to you and what you did.

And right now, they were purring contently and proudly at watching you interact with your children.

Even the thought of such thing excited him and he had to cough to mask his embrassment when you two... weren't an "item" as Lynette and Lyney used to say while giggling just like any other teenager in Fontaine.

He didn't know what "being an item" meant, this was teenagers after all and their language was weird.

"Come here, mini Neuvi! I know you want this yummy fish snack- Neuvillette, are you okay?"

Well, he definetly didn't expect to hear you call an otter... with his name. He was a mighty dragon, a Sovereign for Celestia's sake, not a small and weak creature!

But as he looked at you swinging the cute otter side to side, pointing at every feature that was very much like him according to you from the blue streaks they had, how they loved swimming, head pats and rolling in the water and how they adored being fed (something he regretted ever telling you about and letting you do it just because he wanted you to do so, that the dragon side of him submitted to you, going as far as letting you pat him and feed him, showing weakness), there was nothing he could do except sigh defeatedly and watch you play with the now horde of them as they all made happy sounds at you.

But really? Did you really have to call the otter between your arms which was cuddling up to you "Mini Neuvi"?

Did you really have to make him blush as he imagined what your supposedly-not-here-yet children might look like as they also cuddled up to your warm embrace, chanting your name?

"Oh My- Neuvillette, there is smoke coming out of you! What the-" your eyes widened at him as you worriedly swam to where he was slightly bent over, hair and hand trying and failing to hide his deep blush and giddy smile as you fussed over him.

Yeah, he had to have better control of his emotions and... bodily reactions from now on.

2. I kissed him under the rain

"As if it wasn't bad already, It's raining again!"

"Ugh, again? There goes my travel plans..."

"I wonder what's wrong with the Hydro Dragon enough to make him cry all the time..."

"This rain is ruining everything-!"

All his life, he listened to and watched people of Fontaine complain about the rain. How it destroyed their shops, how their plans were ruined and how they would surely get sick after this rain... Most of them knew about the Hydro Dragon legend, and as selfish as it might have sounded, he wished people would be at least a little bit worried over him.

Expecting this much wasn't wrong after all, right? He never thought or demanded the people to enjoy rain, he knew it could be a huge hassle to deal with a heavy storm and the mud that came with it.

But never in his eons of life, did he see someone as pecular as you, dancing and laughing under the rain but still held a somewhat thoughtful frown.

"Why are you not running away?"

He blushed at how the question left his mouth so suddenly, turning his head to not look at you as you halted and turned to him with a confused stare but soon grinned like an excited kid.

"Why would I? It's so refreshing and the rain feels nice on my skin!" You couldn't help yourself and jump on a little puddle on the ground and splash water everywhere, gleefully running around as Neuvillette's eyes were trained on you intensely.

He... didn't understand humans most of the times but you? You were another kind of enigma for him as you ran happily and pushed the wet locks of your hair away from your face which usualy irritated most of the women. You were definetly going to get sick, have a runny nose and probably feel fatigued all day... but as you slapped your wet cheeks to make sure all of this was real, and that you were finally here all happy, the sickness that would come after this seemed worthy.

But, Neuvillette had been more silent than you were used to...

Not hearing or seeing any reaction from him, you slowly came to an end in your little game and tilted your head at his expressionless face. "Do you... hate the rain?"

A sudden realization came over at his bashful and solemn face, the downward turn of hisblips and the slight bite he gave to himself. "Oh..."

"Yes..." he muttered under his breath and looked down, eyes brimming with tears and stinging his eyes but hidden by his own wet hair. His face was already flushed from the cold, and perhaps by the sight of your clothes clinging on your body and showing off some of your skin and curves.

Or maybe, the bright yet understanding smile on your face as you tilted your head at him was what made him stop and lift his eyes and stare at you dumbfounded.

And make his own tears pour even harder.

"How can anyone hate the rain?" You asked softly and he knew... He knew you didn't mean just the rain, but himself. He wondered if you were aware of the implication of your words, whether you knew the truth about him or not but frankly enough...

He didn't care.

If it was you who knew, but still didn't say anything, he was fine with his secret out for one more person.

Unaware of his newfound ambition to just "seal the deal" today and finally take the scary yet exciting step into the future, you continued to talk with your hands out in a cupping position, letting the cold rain water collect in the middle of your hands.

"It's a blessing of this world to the people who lives on soil. It is to refresh both us and the soil, the air and the waters so that humans can live. But..." Slowly lowering them down and watching the water run down over your arms, you fiddled with your hands anxiously, contemplating whether it was okay to say what was in your mind since it was a rather sensitive topic for him, with no one else knowing his true identity or name.

You didn't exactly know when you realized it, or whether you knew from the beginning or not but now that you did... Neuvillette wouldn't spend even one more minute alone anymore, you would make sure that he would be happy and loved and would never feel as if he didn't belong anywhere.

But it seemed Neuvillette was very adamant on hearing the rest of your sentence since he took a step towards you and stared down at you with his chest rising up and down rapidly in anticipation, his breath warming your cheeks by both the hotness of it and also the closeness between you two.

"But what?"

You sighed deeply and looked up at the eyes that decorated most of your dreams and daydreams. Confessing feelings have always been hard, it never got easy even if you were in a different world but if you didn't do this... Neuvillette would never do it in fear of making you uncomfortable with himself.

"It saddens me to know that the Hydro Dragon suffers so much, enough to make it flood."

Well, he definetly wasn't expecting this answer.

Out of anything that might have left your lips, what you chose to say amazed him. There was someone worried about him? Well, you weren't necessarily worried about him. After all, you didn't know (and there was no way for it to happen) that he was the Hydro Dragon and also, the one who was sad almost %99 of the time.

He often felt guilty about not being honest to you, when you spoke about most of the things that happened to you or what you used to do in your world before coming here. But the mind was a complicated system, and often showed its ugly side at times like this one.

It screamed at him often that if you were to know the truth, see his true form ... He would see the horror and disgust on your face that usually looked at him so lovingly and softly...

And it would forever break him.

"I think, compared to all the dragons I had ever faced with... He has the most gentle heart ever! But the kindest hearts often suffer the most, I just hope he has someone to care for him." You smiled kindly and knowingly at him with a raise of your brows as you stared at his own wide ones, hoping the usually clueless man would get the meaning behind your words.

And surprisingly enough, he did... He just wasn't sure if he should say something more or not, whether he got the meaning behind right or not.

Surely, you didn't...

"He does... I think he does have someone." He gave a small smile to the slightly parting sky as he looked up and sighed in content. He was glad he had you in his life, after such a long time in solidarity and absolutely no one to understand him. Even when he was just a little hatchling, with seemingly no one to care for him, his tiny heart at that time craved for it as he travelled through this world, all alone...

But never ever imagined to hear those words that left your lips next, as if they were the confirmation he always needed.

"So... Why are you still crying then?" He widened his eyes as he lifted those reddened ones to your face, droplets of salty water still running down his cheeks as amethyst-colored eyes looked at you in wonder, mouth left open in shock in a little "O" shape.

The childish wonder in his eyes made you soften at him as you shuffled closer to him, and even if he was a lot taller than you, he seemed like a fragile and ready-to-cry-at-any-moment little boy as he grasped your hands thightly that was holding his face delicately, scared that this was all his imagination which would perish as soon as he woke up and he would be left staring at his ceiling with empty eyes.

Your heart burst with love at seeing his face, body shivering from anxiety and cold together as he trembled under your touch but still seeked your comfort and warmth. He nudged your palm with a small smile, content and relaxed for the first time since he no longer needed to hide from you. He sighed onto your hands, your finger tips lightly touching his strand of white hair, swiping them away from his forehead as he leant down to your height and leaned his forehead on yours. Closing his eyes tiredly, he leant his body weight on yours but it didn't bother you and neither was it hard for you to hold him up by hugging his waist...

And he purred, placing a wide and teary smile over your face.

He finally trusts me...

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry... Even if you look pretty while doing so." You teased him softly ( there was true honesty to your words anyways), with adoration evident on your tone as you almost sung those phrases he sometimes heard children say. Your hands rubbed his back softly, drawing circles as the rain started to lower down and tiny specks of light shone on you both.

You sighed out and buried your face to his neck, cheeks smushing on his shoulder as your arms thightened around him as if to shield him from any more harm.

And, the most joyous thing was... He let you. He squeezed your back with equal force and buried his face to your neck, with his lips tingling painfully just to lay a soft and loving kiss there.

Just as many times you affectionately kissed his forehead with praises spilling from your mouth.

"Just as you promised a lot of times... I'll do everything in my power to make you happy, Neuvillette. That is, if you ha-" your hand was idly patting and going through his locks softly, hand scraping along his scalp as your murmurs hit and was absorbed by his greedy skin as he soaked it all up even in the middle of his shock.

How can you even ask such a question when he was ready to give his life for you?

"Yes..." he was already overwhelmed enough with love, and with each word passing your lips... The reality of the situation you two were in had settled.

Finally... Finally, he had you.

His arms thightened around you, voice shaking as if he was the most afraid he ever had been."Please... Don't leave. I don't know if I can live again without you... now that I had a taste of your love and warmth."

You were shocked to hear such a declaration, so passionate yet calm, just like Neuvillette himself. You slightly parted from him to look at his face, knowing his eyes would never betray his words but he was making it difficult by clinging onto you more.

"Is it-" you started anxiously, fearing that it was because of the connection between the Sovereign and the Creator when a scoff left him, nose scrunched up as if you just said the most weird and offensive thing ever known to a man.

"No, It's because you are Y/N... You are the one I love."

And what else of a reason you would need, when he craddled your face so gently and stroked your chin before slowly diving down and kissing you sweetly under the soft rain as the time stopped for you two, and the nature all around Teyvat blossomed and shone with power?

3. I fainted because he was too cute and handsome, especially when he smiled

"You are so handsome when you smile..."

Now, Neuvillette was used to the way you abruptly threw praises and sweet words at hım throughout the day. Sometimes they were agressive as you squeezed his cheeks together and made hım stare in your eyes while you doted on him.

But this one... This one was new, and he wasn't ready to hear it yet.

At least, fast enough to cover his reactions to save himself from more teasing from you.

"Thank you, my love... Though it couldn't compete with your-" he coughed out as his tail swinged happily behind him, internally cursing himself for deciding to use his hybrid form since you begged him that it would only be the two of you in his office and that you wouldn't let anyone enter without asking first.

And he was a fool in love anyways, who always became weak in the knees whenever you asked for something.

Besides, he couldn't lie: Upholding his human form for so long made him itchy and he was really enjoying as you patted and scratched his tail and scales as his very long tail was wrapped around your waist possessively.

"It's so bright and mesmerizing that it brightened my next eternal life for good...." You were brushing his hair and styling it into a high ponytail just because you thought it would suit him, so focused on your task that you didn't realize how his whole body bibrated because of his content and loud purr...

Which soon made you lean over his left shoulder and stare at his face with a loving and teasing smile.

And there it was, the fierce blush that often coated his handsome face whenever you blurted out your intrusive thoughts...

He blinked several times while looking at you with wide eyes, his heart making flips then stopping and doing it once again which made you snort and lean back on the plush chair you pulled behind his own table...

And soon, very soon, his whole face (and you were sure even his chest) was covered in the reddest red ever known as he stumbled over his own words while slightly trembling.

It was cute... But was it normal for him to tremble?

"Neuvillette? Are you... Did I say something out of-" you slightly raised from the chair while holding the handles and put the brush away, ready to assist him when he suddenly shouted out with an embrassed laugh.

"N-No, not at all! I'm fine, better than I've ever been actually!"

He would never dare to make the same mistake he once did when he reacted to your sweet and definetly distracting words. It was bad enough now that it was becoming harder to control himself...

Maybe, you would be down to the idea of a nightly swimming date?

4. I told him what happened to me and he made the city overflow

"Aaand, that's pretty much it... I already forgave them all but... I think I would never forget it."

Talking about what had happened in all the lives you lived, considering all the religious and cult-like trauma, was something hard to do. Especially since it was still a fresh wound that kept opening again and again at the sight of the Archons in your daily life. They still showed themselves to you from time to time, begging for your forgiveness even though Neuvillette himself almost headbutted with the ex-Geo Archon himself, another fellow dragon who was not as strong as him.

Even though you told them that you put all of that in your past, that you forgave them... They just didn't seem satisfied. They wanted to be closer to you, hang out with you and bask in your warmth as well.

Much like a certain someone, who was deadly serious about not leaving you alone with them for more than a few minutes.

But, could anyone really blame him? You were his treasure, his everything, the one he patiently waited for years without straying from his logic.

His soulmate that he never though he had, or could have. You were kind and loving and generous, and him... awkward about most of the things that concerned human nature, clueless, broken and rough around the edges. He, even now, never actually believed he could make you happy like you deserved while having all these flaws, especially whenever those Archons spoke of all the flaws he had and how he wasn't enough... But as you stared up at him any time he got into one of these moods, held his face and kissed his frown and worries away with little whispers of your love, he knew why he was still alive and had to fight for another day.

He spent lonely years by himself with his heart in agony, listening to it crying for the real home for him... And now that he had it, he learnt all the terrible things they did to You, how they all refused to lend a helping hand to someone in need of it without adding the fact that it was the Creator, and everyone expected him to be fine with it?

Hell no.

He just... couldn't wrap his mind around it. How could they, he thought bitterly as you leaned your head to his shoulder innocently, watching the moon shine outside and reflect the light on both of you. Your hand timidly reached out to his, smaller fingers wrapping around his much bigger ones as if you knew very well the emotional turmoil he was in to comfort him though it was him who was supposed to do that for you.

And it made him even more guilty as he leant his head on your own, as selfish as it seemed to him for seeking such thing from you at your vulnerable state.

How could they almost destroy such a cheerful, happy and kind person? Our Creator?... My love?

You were always the sunshine of wherever you entered, an eye-catching presence in the usually gloomy and calm City of Fontaine. Even when you first came, before seeking refugee and begging Furina to listen to you... You were still kind enough to stop and help a child find her mother, help a lost melusine out ( you later learnt it was Puca, who would grow on you later when she re-approached you with a necklace of sea-shells and offered them to you timidly), and even bring joy to the water in their city so much so that there wasn't a stormy or gloomy day ever. And that was enough for everyone, alongside the golden scars across your arms, that you were their true Creator.

Besides, Neuvillette didn't have to listen to what Furina had to say, the primal dragon in him was already roaring, growling and trashing inside at the other stupid Archons who dared to touch you, to hurt you. How could they, it yelled in his mind often as the loyal dragon it is to the Creator, connected with a deep sense of loyalty and... love. That dragon side of him purred loudly and softly whenever you seeked him amongst a crowd, or simply sitting with him.

The fact that it was him who you felt safe with made both him and the dragon proud and happy, so much so that if he could use his half-hybrid form, which he was already doing it a lot thanks to you, his tail would be flicking back and forth much like a puppy.

He might not be the best with emotions, with them being especially more complicated with humans and all. He might have not understood what pain, heartbreak and even anger meant but there was one thing clear:

Something in his chest broke so wildly, so loudly and stung his heart so harshly at the sight of your tears that the air in his lungs were punched, and made him silently choke on his own tears.

"Never will you ever feel scared, unsafe and unloved, Your Grace... I will make sure of it." He gently craddled your face between his much larger and slightly calloused, naked hands after finally, finally finding his voice back even if it left his lips in a raspy and wavering way with arms squuezing your body thightly. But you didn't mind it, all you could ever need was here anyways...

Except...

"Not that..." he hummed in confusion with a tilt of his head, the blue streaks of his hair tickling your face softly as you giggled and buried yourself deeper to his chest.

"I don't like it when you call me that..."

"Then what would you like me to call you, my love?" You grinned with joy as you bonked your head with his, another affectionate yet cute gesture he learnt you did whenever you were full of excitement and love. Trying to be silent, so that your army of daughters didn't wake up from next doors, you pushed him on the bed you two shared, hand on his sturdy chest as you stared down at his flushed cheeks and flustered eyes at your sudden dominance.

What a sight it was to have the ever stoic Chief Justice, the Hydro Sovereign under your mercy like this, all pretty and yours...

"I like that one better actually. Can you say it again?" You tilted your head cutely with a smile, your sadness from before long forgotten as his eyes softened at you from below you,happy that he was at least able to do that for you. His hand slowly trailed up your waist, to your back and softly craddled your face with his naked hands, hands rubbing your cheeks oh so lovingly as he uttered those sweet names to you slowly, with no rush at all with closed eyes and a loving smile.

"My love..."

"Again..." you breath got caught in your throat as the sudden rush of love and safety overwhelmed you, the man you loved from the beginning uttering and declaring his love to your skin was both too much and not enough.

Not when you unforfunately were deprived of such thing in both worlds.

More, more, I need to hear it more...

"my precious, most beautiful and one and only love..." he slowly pushed himself up on his elbow with the help of his hand on the bed, thightly holding your neck with a promise on his tongue. He was an ancient being with even more ancient thoughts on courting and loving someone. If a dragon loved someone, and devoted themselves to that person once... That was it. No more turning back, no more being lonely, no more suffering. The dragon would make sure their mate was well-fed, safe and happy with them and that no harm would ever come to them ever again, even if the dragon died.

And that dragon side of him was insperable from him after all and therefore, he was eternally yours to have, to be your sworn protector.

Those who treats his family badly would suffer the worst consequence ever...

But for now, he would only kiss your tears away, run his hands across every single scar that told another story and was left unhealed for so long.

I'll fight with everything, move the whole Teyvat upside down and rip through everyone with sharp and protective claws who dared to hurt you and take you away from him.

Not when I had been waiting for you for millenias and just now had you.

"My treasure... You are not alone. You will have me for as long as you want."

He wanted to say everything his heart desired to do but right now, at this vulnerable moment for you as you both laid naked... This was enough.

His arms around you thight was enough.

His deep voice declaring his absolute adoration and devotion to you, bringing you close to tears was enough.

The soft raining outside, making a knowing smile appear on your adorable face smushed to his chest was enough.

Your loving kiss right where his heart was enough.

He and his love was enough.

That is until he learnt in the morning that he accidently made the city overflow deep at night while crying silently to himself for you, thinking you were asleep, but bury himself deep in the sheets while you laughed at hım first thing in the morning and he almost cried tears of frustration at you again.

5. I love him

He gave his true name.

Slowly, very timidly, he brought his hand closer to yours on his face and took a hold of the softness of it with his own glowed hands. This was one of the things he loved to do the most, caressing your hands and rubbing the tips of your finger before kissing every inch of it, showing them the love no one did and could never do.

Not when your heart, skin, body and soul only knew him.

To him, your hands were divine in more than one way. They created life and helped people around, they were what patted the head of the young ones, what helped a little babe who fell on their bum and looked at you with glossy eyes, they were what showed your kindness and love to everyone and everything even after all they did, ever the unworthy ones of such love...

They were what you used to comfort him with your warmth, at long and painful nights as the sky roared with thunders and rain and he was guilt-striken at the thought of people judging him and uttering harsh words to the "Hydro Dragon".

Those were the especially hardest nights for him, marred with the images of you and his "daughters" injured and dying... His mind screaming, torturing with those images and the painful screams, mocking him for not being enough, powerful enough to save those closest to hım as everything drowned him.

Not enough...

You couldn't even save the one you love...

Failure...

Their deaths are on you-

It's okay not to be okay, my love...

But your soft voice, laced with utter devotion and love for him, was always what made it all better as he laid across your chest and hugged you thightly while your hands played with his silky locks. Sometimes, he wondered if you were reading his mind since you always knew when he was down. It was absolutely amazing yet, you were amazing too.

With ot without being the Creator.

Much like the first time he knew his every being now belongt to you, that his heart had fallen for you beyond your title, because you trully loved him for who he was, it fell again and again even more with each passing day.

His heart fell even deeper in love whenever you shyly entered his office to have a hug before dealing with the problems of Teyvat and other realms, saying that his hugs were really relaxing to which he silently teared up, brought him food and ate with hım since he forgot to eat regularly which pissed you off and he would make it up to you by kissing you, whenever you excitedly pointed to a place to have a sudden date with him while strolling in the Fontaine...

And therefore, the last thing he would give to you... would be the sign and show of his utter loyalty and trust.

Himself and his true name, as he proposed to be yours for eternity.

"Will you accept someone like me to be your eternity, Your Grace?"

With happy tears in your eyes as you nodded and jumped on him, which made him fall back on his ass and laugh freely he kissed every part of your body and uttered öne last thank you.

"Thank you for loving me no matter what..."

A soft laugh as you looked up towards the sky which had a soft rain under bright sun, a great show of the feelings Neuvillette was feeling, you kissed him deep once more, much like the first time you kissed.

"Thank you for being you, for letting me love you, my husband... I love you." You nuzzled closer to him with a wide grin as you both laughed while he twirled you happily as the melusines cheered and cried in joy, the waters around you two bursting up towards the sky and creating a feast for eyes with bright colors.

The people cheered in the distance, made new offerings to you and your new husband in happiness and gratitude for being able to witness this day...

But all you needed, all your eyes would see and all your heart would feel was right between your arms... In the form of the Hydro Dragon Sovereign, with pretty amethyst eyes that reflected you and gave you hope when you almost lost it and soft hairs of blue and pearly white that was entangled between your fingers as your lips found his passionately.