#two time x azure call that...

[containedconspiracy]

IM WEAAAAKK

[legrzybek]

wawawa paranoia strikes again so NS//FW DNI, this includes people who publicly like/reblog a lot of that kind of content as i am uncomfortable with my art being seen alongside that. thanks

if you percieve this in any kind of sexual manner please kindly go gouge your eyes out ^_^ meow

tending to his dearest flower ♡

get azuretime fluff beamed i don't CARE sends this idiot to sensory heaven

would yap more but im tired and embarrassed and i just wanna post this already GGRGFGFHFHHF.

[chososcutie]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ─── BOUND BY VOWS, TORN BY DESIRE ─── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

pairing ── satoru gojo x reader

teaser ── your kingdoms have been at war for what seems the longest time, ancient ancestors dating back bloodlines never ceasing in their feud. but now, with the upcoming of a new age, and a desperate need for heirs with an old, dying king on the throne, you are forced to resolve and seal the peace by marrying prince satoru, of an opposing nation.

content ── fluff, slow burn, heavy angst, eventual smut, royal!au, forced proximity, arranged marriage, one bed troupe, mommy issues, jealousy, historic!au, language, mention of drinking, kissing

count ── 5k

author’s note ── thank you to everyone who voted for this series!! this is going to be a multi part story, and i hope to continue if it does well, also i think i’m going to make more series’ down the line because this was fun :)

in two days you were to marry prince satoru.

it was at the crux of the two kingdoms' warring, and father was weak and desperate in those times.

your mother had grown unusually cruel, even more so than usual, her voice sharp and reprimanding, put under pressure by the ongoing conflict that never seemed to be getting better.

you were heartbroken when they told you, but not surprised. you had hoped you would get to choose your own partner to spend the rest of your life with, but it seems cruel fate had other plans.

you had tried to reason with your mother to get out of it, that there were other ways to resolve a war other than sending off your daughter to be married to an unknown man from another kingdom, but she was having none of it.

it was really a matter of convenience. a way to set up a peace treaty, arrange a marriage, and combine two impossibly rich kingdoms? you had known your parents long enough to know they never loved in the way they were supposed to, always king and queen before mother and father, and that they’d take this opportunity in a heartbeat, no matter the cost.

you hadn’t however, known how soon everything would progress, until days later when you received an invitation in the mail, unsigned, and enclosed in a thick brown envelope, complete with the royal seal stamped pristinely on the front.

we hereby invite you to the royal marriage of… it read in rich gold lettering, looping cursive filling the page. little illustrations litter the margins, and a single grainy folded-up picture flutters out upon its opening.

when you unfurl it, it reveals the man you were to marry.

prince satoru gojo, in all his glory, wearing a pristine white and gold suit, a coy smile curving his lips, and soft, cloudy white hair fluffed up, a sword at his hip and azure blue eyes boring into yours.

for a second all you can do is stare, taken aback by his beauty.

you had heard of how gorgeous the prince was, being the talk of almost every woman in the kingdom for his good looks and charm, but you had never seen him up until now.

he was drop-dead ravishing. the kind of beauty one saw only in dreams.

“i see you’ve received the invitation.”

your mother’s calculated voice.

you quickly wheel around, her eyes fixed on you coolly. “we’ve gotten word to head to the gojo clan estate now. they will receive you there.”

“but..” you start, hoping against hope that maybe you could get through to her, and beg her not to send you off.

“please don’t disappoint us.” she eyes you disdainfully. “this arrangement means a lot for our kingdom, and it’d do you well to start thinking about what’s best for your disciples rather than your own wants.”

you stare at her. was she calling you selfish for not wanting to wed a man you had never met?

suddenly, the heavy hoofbeats of a horse-drawn carriage breaks the silent tension stretching between you two, a graceful steady gait of horses coming toward you causing you to quickly turn back to your mom, eyes pleading.

“please.. don’t make me.”

in your wildest dreams, her eyes soften and she looks at you with something different then, something resembling love, before scooping you up into her arms and kissing you on the forehead like a mother would, calling you her precious only daughter, and promising to never send you off, and what was she thinking, before calling off the wedding completely.

but instead, she stares at you, detached as if you were nothing more than a pawn in her intricate chessboard of royalty, your worth determined only by what you could provide for the kingdom.

the carriage comes to a halt in front of you, horses snorting and whinnying as you stare back at the face that looks so much like your own, only lacking the empathy you had always longed for.

“get in the carriage.” she says simply.

and realizing she’s not going to change her mind, you study her face for the last time, as if committing it to memory, that same stony unchanging expression that had been with you all through your childhood, before opening the door, and looking ahead, eyes hollow.

maybe this new husband wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

after a few hours of the carriage lurching and bumping along cobblestone trodden pathways, your head craning to look out from the slightly drawn curtains, you make it.

and just as you imagined, prince satoru's estate is big.

in fact, big didn’t even begin to describe it, with towering iron-wrought gates, and a winding driveway all leading up to a fairy-tale like palace.

statues of noble figures stand tall, outlined against its magnificence, and the castle itself is a rich ivory color, accented with shimmers of golden turrets reaching up into the sky, their tips brushing the clouds themselves.

quickly, you are ushered out, the carriage door held open for you by the coachman, and before you get a chance to take in the elegant grounds of the estate, royal servants are already waiting to greet you, all polite smiles as they advise you to follow them inside.

on the way, they tell you that you were to be properly welcomed to the gojo clan before tomorrow's highly anticipated ceremony, in the form of meeting the king and queen in charge, along with your husband to-be.

you take the chance to glance around, taking in all your surroundings, everything ancient and wooden, with small adornings of mythological figures decorating the walls along with paintings dating back to centuries-old wars, history written all across the panelling prominently.

finally, the royal attendants come to a stop in front of a long-winding corridor, leading all the way down toward an ornate wooden door, its magnificent size amongst the others causing it to stand out notably.

"this is master gojo's suite, and where you will be staying with him for the rest of your time here." says the servant nearest to you, beginning to back up slowly, the others in tow. "the king has asked that you meet with him beforehand, so you two can become acquainted. we shall leave you to it."

and with a final bow of his head, he's gone, leaving you to stand in front of the intimidating mahogany door, its broad outline almost menacing in the dimness of the passageway.

as you make your way to it, you push on it hesitantly, only to be met with resistance as it groans in protest, unwilling to budge.

you try the door handle. locked.

you look up again. you know this is the right door. so why isn't it..?

it opens so suddenly, you with all your weight resting on its frame can't stop yourself. you immediately topple over, letting out a soft oof! of surprise as you crash into something warm yet solid, your body pressing hard against it.

budging.

regaining yourself, you can't help but feel the flexing muscle under your palms, looking down to see a man's chest, his quick exhale of breath making you retract immediately.

and looking up, you're met with the sight of none other than soft white hair and blue eyes coming to blink hazily at you.

a vaguely familiar smirk curving his lips as he sets sights on you.

the man in the picture.

your husband to-be.

satoru.

"hello wifey.." he drawls out, tone almost mocking as he stares down at you, dressed in traditional heavy white robes. "i take it you're excited for the marriage?"

pointedly, his eyes fix on where your other hand is dangerously close to gripping his... lower half, so to speak.

flustered, you instantly step back, face blushing immensely. "m-my apologies my lord, i didn't mean to be so forward. i was sent here to meet you before the meeting, and.."

you notice his teasing grin seems to drop for a moment, eyes searching the halls for signs of life. once he knows you two are the only ones, his expression hardens, blue eyes becoming unreadable.

you were alone together.

"lets get one thing straight, princess. you're here to fulfill your role, nothing more, nothing less. i don't care for pleasantries. there's no reason for us to pretend we're anything other than strangers bound by a marriage of convenience."

you try to back away, eyes wide as you make a small involuntary noise in the back of your throat, but he doesn’t let you, coming closer.

"we'll carry out the duties expected of us, and that's all." he continues. "do what is necessary, but don't make the mistake of thinking i'm interested in anything beyond that."

you bristle slightly at his words. "oh, you think i want this? you think i want to be married to you? in a foreign enemy kingdom i don’t even know? because i don't! but there's no way of getting out of it, so why can't you at least afford to be nice?"

he scoffs. "nice? you and your kingdom have ruined my life! you've robbed me of any chance i had at making my own life choices, and i'm supposed to be "nice?"

"why are you acting like i made this marriage? it's not my fault! that's the whole point of an arranged marriage, it's arranged for you!" you don't even realize you're raising your voice until your words begin to echo off the vast walls, bouncing around you tersely. "and if i had, i certainly wouldn't have picked an asshole such as yourself.”

he steps closer, tilting his head at you. “careful what you say about your husband, sweetheart. or you just might get yourself in trouble.”

you know you should stop before you escalate things, but you can’t help it, jutting your lip out at him in a mocking pout. “yeah? make me then.”

in a heartbeat, he has you pinned against the wall behind you, one thigh holding up your weight as the warmth of his bulky frame surrounds you, cerulean blue eyes raking across your face steadily.

you let out a small gasp of surprise, but quickly recover, eyes narrowing on him fiercely.

he leans ever so slightly closer, crowding your space completely as his loud, sultry patchouli cologne surrounds you, alluring and familiar all at once.

his breath ghosting over your lips, is warm and cinnamon-y, as he stares down at you, eyes lidded and just daring you to defy him again.

"excuse me, mister and mistress gojo? your presence is requested now."

immediately, satoru jumps back as if stung, eyes lingering on you a moment longer, before stalking away in temporary surrender.

you push off the wall, feeling the servant's eyes on you questioningly, but not bothering to indulge him, simply brushing yourself off before rapidly following suit.

“your majesties, it is truly an honor to meet you both.” you take a small curtsy to the king and queen you were standing before, lifting your dress to show respect.

satoru rolls his eyes subtly, shifting beside you.

his father shoots him a look, all graying hair and wise crinkling eyes. “the pleasure is all mine, my dear. it’s nice to meet someone with proper mannerisms and respect for the crown.”

you smile. “yes, well i was raised in a kingdom, after all.”

beside him, satoru’s mother, the queen, grants you a kind smile, long white hair flowing around her mirroring her son's. “that you were.” she agrees. “which is why we are so honored to have you here at our own, and to finally resolve the peace that has been fleeting for so long. you have no idea how much this marriage means to both us and the kingdom.”

satoru sighs.

instantly, the queen’s eyes bore into him. “i’m sure you’ve been acquainted with your husband, prince satoru. he is just as pleased as the rest of us for this opportunity you and your kingdom have bestowed upon us, it was rather benevolent of them, and we are eternally in their debt.”

you get the feeling that they've been having disagreements with the arranged marriage, judging by their body language, and instantly the air grows thicker, more tense.

before the situation can progress however, the queen clears her throat, smiling politely at you. "why, it's been a long day, and i'm sure you're tired, sweetheart."

her attention turns toward her son, her voice holding a warning to it that you can't ignore. "satoru. walk with her to your rooms please, and accommodate her."

he nods, and doesn't even wait to see if you're following before retreating hastily, leaving you to chase after him.

finally, you find yourself back in front of the long-winding hallway leading to his─your─ bedroom, and he pauses, as if remembering something.

"we're going to have to share a bed."

your heart skips a beat, breath catching in your throat as he opens the door to reveal a mahogany bed, draped with quilted covers and over-extravagant silk pillows slightly rumpled by sleep. you had forgotten that as a married couple, it would be custom for you two to sleep together, just the thought of being in such a close, intimate space with him causing your pulse to race, whether with anger or.. something else, you can’t tell.

"no we're not." you move toward the bed, grabbing spare pillows and blankets to make your own on the plush carpet, vowing to stay as far as possible from that stuck-up prince.

you hear him sigh from where he's leaning against the doorway watching you.

footsteps pad across the floor toward you, before coming to a stop. "listen. i know this isn't ideal, but it is part of our arrangement to sleep in the same bed, as a married couple."

you gaze up at him coolly. "i'm sleeping here."

he runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "this is part of what is expected of us, and we need to fulfill our duties as a royal couple. just.. get on the bed, and face the other direction, if you must."

you ignore him, tucking yourself into the blankets you had set up with a small yawn, turning to face away from him pointedly.

all is silent for a single, peaceful moment, but then, two unfairly muscular arms are wrapping around your frame, and lifting, scooping you up into him as with a squeal, you kick, trying to get away.

one of your feet makes contact with his side, and he lets out a low grunt before throwing you roughly onto his stupidly huge bed.

"keep fighting all you want, sweetheart. i can do this all night."

for some reason, his words come off more provocative than anything, and you can't help the fact that the stern sultry purr of his coupled with it tinges your cheeks pink ever so subtly.

"i'll tell you one thing about this arranged marriage. as my wife, you are going to listen, and you are going to obey what i tell you, okay? i will not put up with attitude and immaturity.”

your cheeks warm at being scolded like a child, and all you can do is scoff in disbelief before turning over, resigned to your spot on the bed, vowing to stay as far away from him as possible.

you scoot all the way to the edge, squeezing your eyes shut angrily as tears of frustration prick at you.

just who was he to boss you around?

a few terse minutes tick by, with both of you silent, facing away from each other, the only sound being satoru's soft puffs of breath, sleep eluding you further.

you’re trying your best not to let your skin make contact with his in the slightest, but it’s proving difficult with the way his weight makes the bed dip in the middle, trying to draw you toward himself.

this was going to be a looong night.

you figure you eventually fall asleep at some point, because when you open your eyes again, sunlight is peeking through the windows, and something hard and hot is pressed stiffly against your back, insistent with its prodding.

you reach down, half-asleep, to move it away, but your hand connects with something pulsing and.. large. you trail your hand further up, eyes scrunching in confusion only to feel a small shudder under your palm, someone breathing fast and loud right next to you.

satoru.

you instantly scramble away, eyes wide, in your haste falling off and hitting the floor with a low thud.

this wakes him up, half-lidded eyes opening to take in your tangled form on the ground. “what are you doing?”

��y-you..!” you sputter out, frozen as you stare at him in disbelief.

he follows your gaze to his pants, a straining bulge printed on the front clearly.

his cheeks warm, and he looks down, mumbling under his breath. "mornin' wood.."

before you can bring yourself to speak however, two sharp knocks against the door break the awkward silence, followed by the voice of a servant outside.

"madame and master, it’s time to prepare you both for the wedding ceremony."

“ow!”

you scrunch your eyes tightly, pain washing over you in waves.

the stylist pauses, taking in your expression sympathetically before resuming to tug at your poor hair, putting it up into an intricate updo, a plaited bun with face-framing hairs and bangs, hot curlers and bobbypins attacking you left and right.

"just sit still, dear." one pushes your head back, while another tilts your face to the side to furiously blend foundation on your cheeks.

this day would only come once, in your lifetime at least, and being a royal wedding, of course, everything had to be perfect.

you and satoru were being relied on as human peace treaties to prove to the world that for the first time, your kingdoms were united, marking the official end of the war.

which is why, not only were appearances important, but also your actions towards satoru had to be convincing enough for the clan to wholeheartedly believe you two were in love, and effectively stop the fighting at hand.

so today was more important than ever that you look fully and maddeningly in love with satoru gojo.

you sigh to yourself, but suddenly your thoughts are cut off by the proud voice of your main stylist taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

"perfect. absolutely perfect." the rest nod in agreement, and with a few last touches, you're ready.

and as you all head to where the ceremony would be held, to describe how you're feeling right now as overwhelmed would be an understatement.

currently, there's about two thousand people waiting for you, all elegantly dressed, their heads held high with self-importance.

even the palace is decorated for the occasion, banners and emblems of the gojo clan stamp hanging proudly over the room, while decorative flowers in vases cover every available surface.

you shift your feet nervously, waiting for your signal to walk the aisle, praying that you wouldn't trip or embarrass yourself, fidgeting with your dress anxiously.

the wedding dress in question, was a classic take on a vintage ball gown look, with a too tight-fitting cream-colored corset billowing out dramatically from the waist into a poofy, tulle skirt, and currently it was killing you as you tried to take deep breaths, its taut stiffness practically constricting your lungs.

to make matters worse, it pushed your breasts obnoxiously up, and showed off your outline far too much to be comfortable, contouring every curve distinctively.

before you can try and pull it down however for what seems the hundredth time, the renowned quality of a simple elegant instrumental begins playing, signifying your entrance, and time seems to stop.

your heels click softly on the marbled stone, each step seeming to magnify in the large room spread out before you.

highly prestigious people, who had dismissed you before as nothing but a simple child princess living in her daddy’s kingdom were now all craning their heads to get a better look at you, hushed gasps and chatter sweeping through the crowd as you pass.

slowly, you begin to make your way down the dramatically decorated aisle, and as you get closer to the altar, you spot satoru, leaning slightly, cerulean eyes focused solely on you.

he’s dressed elegantly, in a frilly suit that matches the color of his eyes, all extravagant buttons and poofy sleeves, with crisscrossing gold lace, and a white overspilling cravat on the front.

he tilts his head as if to study the dress you're in, intense blue gaze raking up and down to ravish your clearly outlined figure.

your cheeks flush, his effect on you instantaneous as unbearable though he is.

slowly, you come to stand at your spot beside him, nervous as you look around at the crowd.

what happens next, you hadn't been expecting at all.

as one, they get up, and shower you both in applause, claps as precise and unified as their owners, the sound heard all the way around the entire palace, as they all give a standing ovation to their new king and queen of a new era.

the blush creeps up your neck, and you look around at your new subjects, all of them cheering for you.

after a minute or so of this, they begin to gradually quiet, sitting back down while both you and satoru turn to face each other.

the royal priest clears his throat for attention, and begins his long winding speech, garbled words slurring together as you stare at satoru.

he was so beautiful, breathtakingly so. his white hair is fluffed up, showing his high cheekbones, and he even has a bit of makeup on him, contour and powder.

in fact you’re staring at him so intensely, so swept up in him, you don’t even realize the priest is talking to you until he’s raising an eyebrow at you expectantly, the crowd hushed.

“huh?” you hear yourself say, embarrassment pinking your cheeks.

he clears his throat, speaking a little louder. “do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better..”

when you glance back at satoru, he’s looking at the priest, but there’s a curve to his mouth, amusement glinting in his eyes.

insufferable.

you take a second to let your eyes roam the audience, and happen to land on a particular face, one you hadn’t seen before.

she's wearing a knee-length navy blue dress, one that highlights her chubby figure and pudgy stomach, and a hat which covers most of her face. her head, though covered, is bowed low, as if in shame, which stands out to you as most of the audience is gazing up, at you and satoru, heads perked for a better look.

before you have time to further analyze however, you’re snapped back to the priest who is finishing up his speech.

“..till death do thy part. do you pledge your faithfulness and devotion, and promise to be thy loving wife, forevermore?”

your head starts to spin, the weight of his words sinking into you fully. you were to be with this man, whom you hadn’t even met before yesterday, for the rest of your life. all your hopes and dreams outside of the kingdom may as well come crashing down on your head once you were to speak those forsaken words.

after today, you would be queen, alongside your husband, the king.

at the very thought of being so responsible, the words stick in your throat, face paling. you have the urge to say no, to call the whole thing off, to truly disappoint your parents and disgrace satoru’s family for eternity, because this was your life. your life, and nobody got to take that from you.

you force a smile. “i do.”

the ring-bearer comes up to you, a ring on a fluffed pillow for you to take, its band gold and cool in your palm as you pick it up, a baby blue gem encrusted with the gojo symbol across it staring back.

you had never chose, nor seen this ring in your life.

he turns to satoru. “and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to..”

you turn to satoru, expecting to see that same playful smirk, but something else has replaced it, more open and raw.

maybe he was feeling the implications too?

“..promise to be thy loving husband, forevermore?”

he swallows, pauses for a second too long, before speaking, the words cool and strangely detached. “i do.”

his ring comes, silver and chiseled with symbols of royalty, all sleek metal and polished, shining pristinely in the light. it has diamonds encrusted all over it, each worth more than a house, along with his precious initials, s.g, carved into it.

he takes it without looking at it.

“then by the power vested in me, i now pronounce you man and wife.” he turns toward satoru. "you may now kiss the bride."

your mouth goes dry, and for a second, all you can do is gape at satoru while the priest's words register in your head.

shit. how could you have forgotten you would be expected to kiss him? it was a wedding after all.

satoru's mouth curves up as he leans in slightly toward your ear, his hair brushing you. “c’mon princess, kiss your husband for the audience, yeah?”

you blush, and oblivious to all the people and the priest standing less than a foot away, he goes on, “although, don't be too good of a kisser, or i might get used to..."

before he can continue, you grab his face in your hands, pressing your lips hard against his, if just to make him shut up, and he pauses, taken aback, before slowly his hand creeps up to cup your cheeks gingerly, hesitantly leaning in to it.

the crowd all cheers around you, but you can’t even hear them anymore, all of it fading around you.

he's your first kiss.

he tastes like cinnamon and clove, like something spicy and reckless, his tongue already coming to meet yours in a brash tangle.

as quickly as he had been on you however, he draws away, wiping his mouth with that same lopsided smirk tilting his lips upward, leaving you practically dizzy.

and as the rest of the ceremony drones on, you can't help yourself from wanting more.

it wasn't enough to leave you satisfied, and now that you've gotten a taste, you fear you might not ever get enough.

after the wedding ceremony, there was to be a reception where only the most prestigious and important of people would attend.

it was held in the palace ballroom, lavishly decorated for the occasion with crystal chandeliers, and silk draped tables filled with shiny silverware, everything overly classy and elegant.

when you enter beside satoru, they're already serving flutes of champagne, people milling about amiably and making pleasant conversation.

and if you thought you were popular before as a princess, you had no idea the kind of attention being a hot topic like you were now would bring.

before you're even two steps inside, there's already people surrounding you to congratulate you on your marriage, kiss you on the cheek in greeting, and welcome you as newfound queen to the throne.

after a few minutes of this, with no sign of the crowd of people easing up, you begin to get nervous.

there's just no way you can see to get out of it, and as you start to feel claustrophobic, your body being pushed and jostled by all these people wanting to meet, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the crowd.

satoru.

“i think it’s time for a dance.” he says before grabbing your warm, gloved hands in his, and twirling you out to the center of the dance floor, where a few couples were already swaying to a slow tune.

satoru takes his hands, placing them on either side of your waist, just above your hips, a lazy smirk curling his mouth up as his touch seems casual, natural almost.

it seems almost genuine, the way he flirts with you in the public eye only to blatantly disregard you in private.

well, two could play at that game.

you wrap your arms around his neck, and draw yourself closer, lips hovering above his, your front rubbing against him dangerously.

he inhales sharply, eyes flickering with heat for a second but before you get the chance to revel in the fact you could draw a reaction from him, he starts spinning you.

you gasp as he whirls you around, before starting to glide back and forth with you across the dance floor, a smug grin on his face as you try and keep up.

luckily for you, as royalty you were expected to know how to dance, and your parents had enrolled you in private lessons weekly, your feet falling into familiar steps as you swept along the floor with him.

he takes notice, hands gripping your waist tighter as he sways with you, quickening the pace. “who taught you to dance, princess?”

you can't tell if he's teasing, or being genuine so rather than answer, you glance down, pretending to focus on your steps as you try to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

and finally with one last dramatic twirl, your hands tracing delicate arcs in the air, the music crescendoes and satoru catches you in a perfect dip, your head tilting back with a flourish.

instantly, cheering erupts, the room absolutely filled with clapping and whistling as your chest heaves up and down, still in his arms.

you had been so caught up you hadn't even realized everyone had stopped to watch you two, and with your finish, you were now the center of attention.

and as you seat yourself in a chair across from satoru, the formal banquet about to begin, you finally answer his question, seemingly out of nowhere, making him come to a start as he looks at you.

"my mother put me in dance classes from a young age." you smile bitterly as the memory washes over you. "you know it's funny, she was always the most beautiful dancer in the ballroom at my kingdom, but she wouldn't teach me. said i was "too slow", "had two left feet", "didn't pick up quickly", and i was nothing like her. she had someone else instruct me, and every day i would go and practice as much as i could, in hopes of getting better and pleasing her."

"did you?" satoru presses.

you sigh sadly. "i did, but it was never enough for her. nothing was. i remember thinking when i was younger, that maybe there was something wrong with me, and that's why she couldn't love me. why anyone couldn't love me, really. i've always felt like just a mere decoration in my palace, just another step on my mother's agenda."

what he says next surprises you. "i get what you mean. ever since i was little, my parents have been telling me, "you're going to be king" "one day you're going to overtake the throne" and "think of your future kingdom", when all I ever wanted was to be a child."

he draws nearer to you. "but, that gets taken from you once you're born into a monarchy, right?"

you nod. "that, and everything else down to your way of life, your interests, your dreams.." you break off, eyes flickering down to his lips for a moment. "..your husband."

the conversation between you becomes more intimate as he leans in too, lips above yours, and just as you start to close the distance..

the distinct sound of a fork clinking against a glass.

the royal toasts were starting.

it was from satoru's father, the king, his wise, crinkled smile looking around at all his subjects. "hello everyone. we thank you for coming out tonight to celebrate the birth of a new age, as my son and the daughter of a rival kingdom have come together in marriage, forever binding our palaces as one. this marks the start to a new era."

he pauses, letting the people around break out into clapping, some cheering, before going on.

"as you are aware, i will be stepping back from my role as king, knowing our future is in capable hands, by your new king and queen.."

at that, he lifts a glass toward your table, winking solemnly.

"to satoru, my successor, my pride, and the future of this kingdom. may your reign be long, your rule wise, and may you bring many heirs to this kingdom."

wait.

heirs?

you turn to look at satoru, his face paling.

"to the future, to the kingdom, and to the continuation of our legacy!"

"long live the king!"

[yunamoona]

formation a !

summary: you’re getting hit on!!! Luckily your friends have a protocol to neutralize this very situation.

content: fluff, satoru gojo x fem!reader (ft. Shoko and Suguru), silliness, gojo vs jealousy. Gege if he was full of joy and whimsy AU where they all at least make it to their last year of school together. Oh and thug Geto (but not really) allusion to the “Formation b” og at the end.

a/n: we all saw how quick Gojo was to reacting to Megumi “getting hit on.” formation b??? yeah, that was NOT his first rodeo…anyways, this is my first oneshot! please be forgiving, but I’m open to constructive criticism! also feel free to send feedback & reqs! info in my pinned.

“I don’t waannaaaaa!”

“Then go home.”

“I don’t wanna do that eitherrr”

Before you can snap at him again, it’s Suguru who smacks him upside the head, “then quit whining,” the man grumbles as Satoru whimpers and rubs the back of his head. “It’s already hot as balls out, you’re giving me a headache.”

Satoru huffs at that, purposefully stumbling along the sidewalk to knock himself into Suguru. There’s an oof as Geto returns the gesture by elbowing him in the gut, and some of your and Shoko’s shopping bags slip down Gojo’s arms as he shoulders the other man again, more intentionally this time. It’s moments before the two break out into a full on scuffle.

“Let’s bring Haibara and Nanami next time, kay?” Shoko jests loud enough for the two behind to hear, her thumb jabbing backwards towards them with that feline smirk on her lips. “They’re way more well-behaved than those idiots.”

“You can’t replace me— maybe Suguru, but not me!” Satoru wheezed out, sputtering a bit. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Suguru tightening the headlock around the other boy’s neck, squeezing a choked sound from Satoru as his sunglasses slipped down his nose. “You’d miss me too much!”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, we’re almost done shopping, alright? I just wanna get one more thing.” You point a little ways ahead to the shop you’ve been meaning to get to after hearing they had a sale on all their blind packs.

Yet looking backwards, you could see the heat was getting to your friends, making them more irritable and haggard. Even Shoko looked about ready to call it a day, but it was Satoru who appeared to be the least tolerant. He was practically dragging his feet across the ground, cheeks flushed red from the absurd heat and a rare genuine frown on his lips. The sight made your heart pang just a little.

Your gaze traveled around the little outdoor shopping center, landing on something that you were sure would bring up the mood— at least for a certain someone.

“Oh!” You pepped, pointing out a little cart stationed at the corner across from the store you wanted to hit up. Perfect. “How about we stop for ice cream?”

The way Satoru brightens immediately is almost uncanny, azure eyes sparkling and wide. “How’d you know that’s exactly what I was thinking?” He beamed, toothy grin wide and unabashed. “See, this is why we’re soulmates!”

You wish he’d stop saying thoughtless nonsense stuff like that.

The four of you stroll up to the stand, the older man running it joyfully greeting your group as Satoru leaned over the counter, enthusiastically giving your orders. You can’t stop thinking about that shop across the way, though. Clarence. Blind boxes. Marked down. MiniBrands…other people were gonna buy them all out…

“Shookoooo,” You whine, your bottom lip jutted as you reach for her hand, nodding your head towards the store. “Come with me pleeaaase? I’ll be quick.”

Lie.

Both of you told the guys you’d only be a minute, but it’s been at least 15 by now. Where the heck were they hiding your stupid discount mystery boxes??

“I know they’re here,” You reassure Shoko after dragging her into the same aisle you’ve checked three times now. “Somewhere. I have that feeling.” She doesn’t argue, but you feel her unspoken doubt.

After a while still, Shoko taps you on the shoulder.

“You keep looking, I’ll be right back,” she hums, middle and pointer finger tapping her lips. Then she was waving and strolling out the automatic doors, right back to where you both left Satoru and Suguru. The latter was manspread on a bench and scrolling on his phone, the former half-perched on the armrest watching the screen over Suguru’s shoulder. He had his second half eaten popsicle in one hand, taking sneaky licks of your ice cream in his other when he thought no one was looking.

He didn’t pay Ieiri any mind for a good several minutes, not until he peered up into the glass window of the store across the street, tongue frozen mid-lick of your ice cream. You were in there, without them— with some guy— chatting. Laughing. Suguru’s head rose when he heard the plop of frozen dairy hitting the asphalt, following his friend’s gaze after registering his alarmed expression.

The ebony haired man sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. “That’s rough.”

In a blink Gojo’s hands grip Shoko’s arms with urgency. “Shoko.” He gritted, hand flying to make wild motions toward the shop.

The girl squinted, spotting you inside after a few seconds, talking to some guy. “Oh. Good for her,” she’d acknowledge coolly around the cigarette at the corner of her lips.

Satoru’s frown drastically deepens.

“You were supposed to stay with her— what happened to girl code?”

“I needed a smoke. And what do you know about girl code?”

“Queens before nicotine!” Satoru stressed while jostling the easygoing girl.

“C’mon, c’moonn, we gotta hurry. Do it like we practiced, alright?”

“These what you’re looking for?” The man who’d originally approached you pulled out a small colorful package from a larger cardboard box, lopsided grin on his plain face as he held it out to you.

“Omg, yes!” You cheered, clasping your hands together. At long last, you’ve been reunited with your cheap blind boxes. “Thank you so much, you have no idea—“

Your name is called out somewhere down the aisle, and when you turn to look, you spot Shoko back from her smoke break.

The brunette looked less than enthused, however, eyes flitting down to very obviously scan some note cards between her fingers. She briefly cleared her throat.

“Another one? Damn girl. Isn’t this your third one today? I thought what we had meant something to you.” She exclaimed flatly, articulating every word like a robot. She shuffles to the next card. “Girl, you crazy.”

???

You stare at her with a gaped jaw and knitted brows, lips barely forming the beginnings of the word “What—“ when you hear the chime of the door. And in the storefront’s entrance stood Suguru- reimagined to look…vaguely thuggish?? Your eyes don’t know where to look, between the rolled up sleeves of his rumpled uniform that showed a poorly scribbled tattoo sleeve on the arm of his pocketed hand, and the jagged scar with a smudge of red that’s suddenly appeared on his right cheek. (You’ll learn later they’re sharpie marker and Shoko’s red lip stain.)

“Hey babe,” BABE?? “Sorry to keep ya waiting. There was…a complication.” He grunts around a toothpick. You only notice he’s lugging a bat over his shoulder when he taps it twice against himself for an intimidating emphasis. He begins to stride toward the three of you, unimpressed glare landing on the man who’s now shuffled slightly behind you. “But there’s no trouble here. Right?”

The poor guy looked ready to piss his pants out of fear. You were ready to explode out of shock and embarrassment.

“I—“ You open and close your mouth like a gasping fish, but no words are forming as your baffled expression shifts between Shoko and Suguru. “What the hell is happening?!”

Admittedly, you did feel a sense of foreboding. Like a piece was missing from this debacle of a puzzle. A grand finale that would ensure you would never set foot into this store for at least another decade out of pure shame.

“Would you step away from her? You homewreckers!”

No. Nononono—

To your horror, large hands clap over your arms, spinning you around to face teary cerulean eyes.

God knows where his uniform jacket’s gone, or where he’s managed to get a tie to wear at the collar of his white button up on such short notice.

The way he laments your name is already enough to make you cringe, his disheveled white hair cascading as he slumps his head forward between his shoulders, his hands bracing on yours.

“I knew you’d be out here, fooling around! Don’t tell me it was a lie? When you said I was the only one for you?? I slave away everyday at that damn office— to provide— for us!!” He’s sobbing, in the midst of his own soapy k-drama. You half expect cherry blossoms to start raining from the tiled ceiling covered in harsh fluorescent lights, or for some violin-heavy ballad to start playing.

“Come home,” he begs, lifting his face stricken with faux tears to meet your eyes. “the kids miss you…”

There are no words to describe how much you wish to disappear. The blood that had drained from your face comes back tenfold, now buzzing in fiery humiliation.

There’s a too heavy, too long, awkward pause.

“…Okay, well. If you don’t need anything else, I should get back to restocking…” The man who’d been the target of Satoru’s strategic wrath half-bowed his head, anxious to shuffle away with a forced polite smile. “Glad I could help you find what you were looking for, miss.”

“Huh.” Both Gojo and Geto chirp in unison, heads tilting in confusion. Only then do the men maybe register the fact the guy who was “hitting on you” was wearing a uniform and a name tag. And then understanding dawned. Not before you yank at either of their ears, unfortunately, which they begrudgingly accept.

“What is wrong with you guys??” You fume, and either of them shrug, wincing when you tug harder. Best to take this sitting down. “Why would you embarrass me like that— and why’re you dressed like the villain of a low budget movie?” Geto glances sideways and you can almost see the guilty cartoon sweat drop.

With a long suffering sigh you release the both of them, whipping around to Shoko with hands on your hips. “Okay, but why’d you go along with this?” You ask in exasperation. She merely gives a halfhearted shrug.

“‘Was bored.” Figures.

“So mean! We had good intentions, where’s the love?” Satoru pouted, faux tears in his eyes as he rubbed at his reddened ear.

“You,” Was all you could muster in a dangerous tone, accusing finger jabbing towards him. He jolted, at least having the decency to look somewhat fearful even if it was mostly overshadowed by thrill. “I know you’re behind this.”

“Sweetness, hey,” He attempted to pacify you, palms forward. “before you get mad, I—“ The squeal that elicits from him is girlish as he twisted just out of your reach. Then he’s booking it. Slippery bastard.

The way he cackles at you as you give chase makes your cheeks burn hotter, curses and promises of strangling him spilling from your lips. He howls when you nearly crash into the ice cream stand while whipping around the corner after him, the owner shouting his own swears at the two of you and…

…and the remainder of the memory escapes you as sunspots dance in your vision. Bright light sears your eyes the moment you manage to blink them open, a bead of sweat rolling from your forehead down the bridge of your nose. You just sit there for a minute like this, dazedly staring at the sky. Trying to hold onto the vivid imagery before it began to fade back into the recesses of your mind once more. With a grumble you gain your bearings, wiping your face with a sleeve as you stand. You swear there’d been shade over this bench when you sat down…just how long had you been sitting here in this heat?

You look side to side. Where have your students gone? Well, your students, and that overgrown manchild—

“Fushigurooo!!”

“No.”

“But Fushigur-“

“Stop following me.”

Your head snaps to where your students are zipping past the sidewalk, Yuji stumbling after Megumi as he stormed off.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Fushiguro! I really thought she was hitting on you— y’know, Bros before Does!” Itadori placated with a pleading gesture of his hands. With one glance behind him however he jolted, picking up the pace into a sprint almost immediately after spotting Kugisaki barreling towards them.

“Itadori, you idiot!” She squawked, waving a fist as if to clobber him once she caught up. “Making us chase down that angsty sea urchin in this heat! You’re gonna get it!!”

All three disappear around that corner where that ice cream stand always used to be posted, an echo of the past. Come to think of it, it hasn’t been around for years, and you idly wonder what became of the old man who used to run it.

As if on cue, Satoru meanders up to you, ruffling his snowy hair as he readjusts his blindfold over his eyes. He beams simply at the sight of you.

Your glare hardens, and he startles. He knows that you know he’s the mastermind behind that spectacle you’d just witnessed. Was it really that long ago since he pulled this same stupid stunt? He never did quite change.

“Ehehehhh,” He pitters nervously, putting on a wide innocent grin as you approach, index scratching a nonexistent itch at his jaw. “Hi sweetie, baby, love of my life—”

What makes him give pause though is the way you just trudge into his side and nod your head against his chest. You feel an arm instinctively wrap around you, and it makes you uncomfortably warm in this hot weather, but you don’t entirely mind it either. “Hey, what’s up,” he murmurs more sincerely, head craning to get a better peek at you. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Is what you mutter in response, still replaying the dream of that memory in your head. It made you feel poignantly happy, but the aftertaste of the emotion left you…tired. “Heat fatigue.”

“Right.” His grip tightened, nestling you closer. He doesn’t say anything, just letting the quiet fill the air aside from the croak of locusts. You wonder if he’s reminiscing on those times, too. Before everything— “I betch’ya got a nasty tan line.”

“Satoru!”

“I’m kidding! You’d be sexy even if you had a redneck tan.”

“Ew, don’t even say that!” You scold even if you can’t keep the ridiculous smile off your face. You still check under your sleeve for good measure, to which he chuckles.

“Wanna get some ice cream?” There’s a smile in his voice, and you feel his lips stamp a kiss to your sweat damp forehead.

“Y’read my mind.”

[norristrii]

MORNING AFTER.

You thought your one night stand is just some no name, but Monaco is full of surprises and you find out who he really is.

pairing. Lando Norris x fem! reader

warnings. mention of sexual activities(not directly tho) reader is a student (so she’s like 21), not proofread.

babs’ notes. Thank you so much for all the support! I just started and the likes are INSANE. Btw race in 4 days how are we feelin? ily guys 🤍

LUCKY YOU, being born into one of the wealthy families of France meant you always got everything you wanted and never missed out on anything. The world was at your fingertips, and luxury was your norm. Lavish parties, exclusive events, and private tutors were all part of your upbringing.

However, as you grew older, you started to feel the weight of your family's name and expectations. You didn't want to be just another member of the elite Parisian society, so you made a bold decision to study at Monaco University, away from the familiar streets of Paris and your family's influence.

Your initial plan was simple: focus on your studies and return to Paris during holidays. But life had other plans. You fell in love with Monaco's charm and beauty. The azure waters of the Mediterranean, the picturesque landscapes, and the vibrant culture captivated your heart. Before you knew it, you had decided to make Monaco your permanent home.

You found an apartment with your best friend, and together, you embarked on a new life. The city offered a lifestyle that suited you perfectly. The night life in Monaco became your favorite thing. Yacht hangouts with your rich friends, glamorous parties, and exclusive events filled your evenings. The city's blend of sophistication and excitement was intoxicating, and you couldn't get enough of it.

Living in Monaco allowed you to forge your own identity, away from the shadows of your family's legacy. You embraced the freedom to live life on your own terms, creating unforgettable memories with your friends and immersing yourself in the luxuries the city had to offer. Your life was a blend of elegance, adventure, and independence, and you cherished every moment of it.

Your long-awaited summer had finally arrived, and you were determined to enjoy every second of it. The nights were filled with endless parties, yacht hangouts, and night visits to the luxurious homes of rich boys your age. The excitement and freedom of the season were intoxicating, and you embraced it all with open arms.

This time was no different. You woke up to the sun shining through the window of a not-so-familiar apartment. The light streamed in, casting a warm glow on the room. As you turned around, you saw the bare back of a man whose name you could hardly remember. The events of the previous night were a blur, a whirlwind of laughter, dancing, and fleeting moments.

You got up from the cozy bed, scanning the boy on the bed. He was actually quite hot, with messy curls falling all around his face. The sight of him brought a mix of emotions—curiosity, attraction, and a hint of regret. But staying wasn’t in your guts. You quickly gathered your clothes, which were scattered all around the room, a testament to the mess you two had caused with your night activities.

You took one last look around the apartment, your eyes landing on the many racing helmets displayed around the room. He is definitely a big fan, you said to yourself with a smile, appreciating the dedication and passion evident in the collection. The sight of the helmets brought a sense of curiosity and intrigue, adding another layer to the mystery of the man you had spent the night with.

With a final glance, you closed the door and began walking through the fancy apartment building, the elegance of the surroundings contrasting sharply with your disheveled appearance. As you checked your phone, you noticed it was already lunch time, and multiple texts and missed calls from your best friend filled your notifications.

Monaco was already bustling with activity. Elder women with Birkin bags were walking their dogs, people were rushing around to their various appointments, and the city was alive with the hum of daily life. Amidst the sophistication and glamour, you felt like a stark contrast. Your hair was tangled in a messy bun, your t-shirt was inside out, and your overall appearance was far from the polished image Monaco was known for.

The sight of everyone going about their day with such poise made you acutely aware of your own disarray. You hurried through the streets, weaving through the crowds, determined to make it back to your apartment and put yourself together.

You finally managed to get to the familiar door of your apartment, barely able to take off your shoes. The exhaustion from the night was evident in every step you took. As you entered, your best friend's voice called out from the kitchen, “I thought you were dead!”

You followed her voice to the kitchen, where she stood, cooking your favorite pasta. The comforting aroma filled the room, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for her presence. “Well, I’m alive,” you said, your voice tired and strained. “Hardly,” you added, feeling the ache in your body from the night's adventures.

“Why so?” she asked, giving you a judgmental look as she stirred the pasta.

You leaned against the counter, ready to spill the details about the previous night. “Girl, we were like animals,” you said with a smile, biting your lip as you remembered the wild moments.

Your best friend rolled her eyes, raising an eyebrow in amusement. She knew you well enough to expect such stories, but it never ceased to amaze her. “I can’t remember much, but gosh, he was so amazing,” you sighed, the mix of excitement and frustration in your voice palpable. The physical attraction and chemistry had been undeniable, and the thrill of the night still lingered. “What a pity I don’t remember his name, though.”

She raised an eyebrow again, curiosity piqued. "Do you have a photo? I want to see that chosen one of yours," she said with a mischievous smile. The anticipation in her voice was evident, and you quickly remembered you had taken a few drunken pictures with him. The hazy memories of the night flashed through your mind as you opened your gallery, scrolling through the blurry images until you found one where his face was still somewhat visible. The excitement and anxiety mingled as you held your breath, showing the picture to your best friend.

Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth slightly agape. "No way," she murmured under her breath, clearly stunned by what she saw. The surprise in her expression was enough to make your heart race with curiosity.

You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion. "What?" you asked, but she remained in shock, unable to tear her eyes away from the photo. The tension in the room grew as you waited for her to explain. "What's wrong?" you asked again, your voice tinged with concern and impatience.

"That's Lando Norris," she finally said, pointing at the photo. The name didn't ring any bells for you, but the seriousness in her tone made you realize the importance. "He's, umm, a Formula One driver," she explained, her excitement barely contained. Suddenly, the racing helmets you had seen in the apartment made sense, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

"He's a really big name in the F1 world," she continued, her voice filled with awe and admiration. Your best friend was a huge fan of Formula One, always following the latest races and drivers, but you had never paid much attention to it. Now, the significance of your encounter was becoming clear. You had spent the night with someone who was not just another wealthy boy but a renowned athlete.

"Just search him on Instagram," your best friend suggested, her curiosity evident. You nodded and quickly grabbed your phone, typing his name into the search bar. His account popped up first, boasting an impressive 9.4 million followers. Wow, you thought to yourself, that’s a really big name.

You began scrolling through his feed, captivated by the photos of him in team merch, intense training sessions, and those unforgettable eyes that had left a mark on you. Each image painted a picture of his life, giving you a glimpse into the world of a renowned Formula One driver. The realization of just how well-known he was added a layer of complexity to the situation, making your encounter feel even more surreal.

"I can’t wait until you appear on gossip pages as the mysterious rumored girlfriend," she joked, her tone light-hearted. The idea of being thrust into the public eye sent a shiver down your spine. The thought of your private life becoming a topic of speculation was probably your worst nightmare, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety.

"Should I text him?" you asked, looking at her for guidance. The uncertainty in your voice was palpable, and you hoped she would provide the clarity you needed. "I mean, I can see it becoming something more." The weight of your emotions hung heavily in the air, and you were torn between taking a leap of faith and protecting yourself from potential heartache.

"It's your one-night stand," she shrugged, her tone casual. "So deal with it," she added with a wink, trying to lighten the mood. The idea of it being more than just a one-night stand was thrilling, and you couldn't help but hope for something more. The possibilities seemed endless, and you found yourself daydreaming about what could be.

© norristrii 2025

[vivalabunbun]

An Encore of Betrayal

Summary: The devil with no sin nor memory and he who has held them all for centuries.

Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)

Tags: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic, SMUT, NSFW, Historical AU, Fantasy AU?, Reincarnation AU, cursed!neuvillette, dragon!neuvillette, reincarnated!Reader, human!reader, Fluff, a lot of fluff, Melusines doing their best to play cupid, ex-lovers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers? ANGST, he's trying his best, dragon x human dynamics, Monsterfucking (two... I have no defense), cunnilingus(long tongue), marking, size kink? breeding kink, heat, overstimulation, hate sex? kinda?, slightly unhealthy dynamics (past life), dubcon, trust issues, immortal x mortal, slightly possessive!neuvillette, slightly yandere!neuvillette, TW: mild mention of blood, TW: descriptions of drowning, sin, and sacrifice. TW: Trauma from betrayal, themes of resentment, Infertility.

Author's Note: Wanted to try out a historical fantasy from Neuvillette's pov. I struggle with fantastical settings, so overlook any world-building confusion. Mihoyo won't give me his real name, and it's eating away at my sanity. Enjoy!

Somewhere deep beneath the waves, away from the omnipotent watch of false divinity, lies a village. A bustling home carved into an outcast cove nestled under the cover of suppressive tides.

One littered with tiny houses surrounding an impressive estate modeled much like the ones seen in those novels abandoned from capsized ships. 

Would you believe that such a place exists? 

Decorated with curious trinkets which sunk beneath the surface which had forsaken them, kept in this cove for so long that it was challenging to remember the azure hues. 

Ornaments decorating the expanse of this once lonesome cave, almost enough to conceal its true origin: A prison.

A fool sentenced to this penitentiary masquerading as a home, now affectionately named ‘Merusea Village’. 

Within that attentively built estate, a looming figure stood in front of a wall lined with neatly organized novels, lilac eyes running along the titles printed along each spine. 

A collection saved from watery abandonment after falling overboard by the curious hands of Melusines. Amassed throughout the years until the shelves of this humble library were without vacancy. 

Stopping a finger on a spine, he decided on the novel to pass the ever-plenty time bestowed upon him. He’s aware that each book amongst these shelves has been thumbed through by him.

But with enough years, the recollection of the contents contained within each one tends to become foggy. 

It's fate that the novel selected in his hands just so happens to be a collection of tales.

Humans have many strange behaviors, one might even call them traditions. One particular tradition mortals seem to indulge in often is that of storytelling. 

Lilac eyes browse through the pages, refreshing himself on the tale held within its faded covers. 

----------

There once was a lovely kingdom amidst lush pastures and fertile lands where the townspeople sang and danced under the bright sunlight.

But one day the sun disappeared, concealed behind ashen clouds that cried a lonesome hymn, plaguing the unfortunate kingdom with rain.

The origin of the rain stemmed from the lonesomeness of a great dragon of water.

Thus, to stop the rain, the king sent out a princess to the dragon, declaring that the kingdom gates wouldn’t welcome her back if rain fell from the sky. She was sent off in a white gown. 

Down below a flooded loch, the princess was offered to the weeping dragon. Looking up the princess saw the sorrowful pools in the beast’s eyes. 

‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, why do you cry?’ She asked.

Intrigued by the bravery of the young princess, the dragon answered: ‘Because I am lonely, I have no brethren left.’

Feeling pity the princess responded: ‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, don’t cry. I will be lonely with you.’ 

So the princess befriended a lonesome dragon under the hymn of softening rain, with his loneliness soothed, the sun peeked back out from ashen clouds. But one day, pitiful tears fell from her eyes and the princess wept so bitterly. 

The dragon could not bear seeing those tears stain her cheeks. He offered her pearls, jewels, and gold. Yet those bitter tears still fell, tainting the pristine water. 

‘Beloved princess, why do you cry so bitterly?’ He implored. 

‘I long to go home, I miss my kingdom,’ she revealed. 

But she could not go home, for if she stepped foot away from the riverside the lonesome rain would start again. The colossal dragon could not leave the loch, but he could not bear seeing those bitter tears.

So he relented, telling the princess a secret. A secret all dragons buried deep within: His true name. 

‘If you speak my name, my true name, then I can grant you one wish. But be careful, for there can only be one wish.’ The dragon whispered. 

‘Do you wish to return to your kingdom, beloved princess?’ He asked. 

The princess was silent for a long while, weighing the choices in her hand. She longed to return home, but she also longed to be by the side of her kind dragon. 

Confident in her decision, she beckons the great dragon closer, until her lips could reach the side of his large head where his ear lay. After whispering his name, she tells the beast her wish. 

‘I wish for you to become my prince, so we can return to the kingdom together, that way you won’t ever be lonely again.’

A clever wish he grants with a nod. Scales and claws shedding away until a handsome prince stood in front of her. Thus, hand in hand they returned from the loch to the warm welcome of the kingdom. 

And they lived happily ever after. 

----------

Ah, so it was that tale. 

Judging from the age of the novel, he guesses it must be a rendition of a rendition.

Words and events twisted, embellished, and simplified. Until it became nothing more than a mere fable told to entertain the wandering minds of children. 

A beloved tale of a maiden who got a dragon to give up his grand authority, stopping the flood of vengeance from drowning Fontaine.

This is what the origin of his damnation has turned into. The tales of the heroine’s feats sung and written throughout the narrative of time, passing from one generation’s lips to another’s ears. 

However, he supposes this is expected of humans. It’s their tradition of storytelling, after all, mending a fallacy into a tale palatable to their conscious.

Or perhaps, these embellishments were added to compensate for the hollows caused by the frailty of mortal memory. 

Patching over the holes with flowery words to distract readers from inaccuracies that were only compounded upon from the last. 

Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the dragon all that well, considering that they thought the proud dragon would bow to the whims of a meek human.

Placing a secret so simply in her hands at the mere sight of tears.

Did Fontainians not realize that the land they reside on once belonged solely to dragons? How preposterous it is that a sovereign couldn’t set foot upon his own land. Or did they forget why he couldn’t? 

What a naive ending, did mortals truly believe that blood and water could dwell together without consequences? That simply wishing the dragon to become a human could resolve all troubles?

To overwrite everything with a ‘happily ever after’ which never happened?

Regardless of his reservations toward such fables, the Melusines always seem eager to gather around for such stories. The towering figure lacked the conviction to deny such requests. 

From down the hall approaching closer came the pitter-patter of steps, he turned his tall frame toward the direction of the sound just as a few familiar faces revealed themselves from the library entrance. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette! Come quickly! A human! A human appeared!” A group of Melusines tugs on the fabric of his slacks while pointing toward the phenomenon. 

A mortal in this domain? A cavern hidden deep under the land and waters where the warmth of the sun couldn’t grace. How did such a being find their way into this sanctum?  It’d be best that he alleviates their worries. 

“Please lead the way.” Neuvillette closes the novel, returning it to the confines of its shelf. 

His swift movements in time with the melusines’ frantic patter as they made their way out from his estate.

Soon the tops of the Melusines’ cozy homes of Merusea Village came into view, as did the murmuring of a distraught crowd. 

“Excuse me.” His steps made their presence known, their heads perked up to look at him before parting a path for Neuvillette. 

Upon the maroon pasture of Merusea Village was a blanket of silk and woven lace, snowy fabric surrounding the still figure of a human.

Treading closer Neuvillette kneels down while reaching out a hand, weaving his fingers under the fabric which obscures the mortal’s face. 

“We found her while gathering offerings from the waters … Is she…” The anxious murmuring quiets to await his verdict. 

“She has a pulse,” he reveals, fingertips detecting wisps of warmth along cold skin. 

It was faint, but his attentive eyes caught onto the slow movement of her chest. The snowy fabric had greedily drunk up the essence of the sea. Cursing her to sink deeper below the tides. 

To leave a mortal in such a state would be too cruel of a fate. 

Neuvillette moves his hand to support her covered head as his other arm gathers the damp fabric under her legs.

Carefully, he stands back to his full height, cradling her limp body in his hold. An audience of fretful gazes follow his motions.

“Do not fret, she only requires some rest and a change of clothing, I’ll take her to my abode. Could you gather some cloth to dry down her body?” Neuvillette’s melodic voice just barely above a whisper, so as not to stir the figure in his arms.

His expression softens to offer the compassionate creatures some reassurance. With firm nods the Melusines scatter, determination alight in their bright irises as they sought the necessary items to care for their newfound guest. 

The dampness of the heavy fabric seeps into his own attire as Neuvillette turns the knob to grant him entry into his abode. 

Quietly ambling through the spacious halls, the master bedroom came into view. Neuvillette lays the limp form upon his sheets, ensuring that her head rests slowly upon the soft pillows. 

Just as her figure sinks into the mattress, a chorus of metallic clinks catches his attention. Glancing down her body his lilac eyes discover the origin.

A pair of silver shackles encased around her ankles, the unforgiving metal digging into defenseless flesh. 

Gingerly, he takes one ankle into his grasp to better observe the shackles.

This time he couldn’t fight against the deep frown as it debuted upon his lips. His eyes hone on how tightly those heavy chains were bound along the flesh. 

Soon the unforgiving metal crashes down to the floor, he soothes the freed skin with his thumb while checking for any other possible wounds. 

Lilac eyes travel up to her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be reminded that her face was concealed behind a shroud of lace. 

How uncomfortable it must be to have a cold piece of fabric to cover one’s face. Neuvillette places her ankle back onto the bed.

His large hands took hold of the damp veil to lift it from her resting frame, revealing to his draconic eyes for the first time their face. 

The veil stays suspended in the air as his hands cease all motion. Hardened gaze tracing over her features, the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, and the structure of her face.

Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness. 

Within those mortal tales, there’s a wide variety of beasts and fearsome creatures. Dragons were depicted as such omnipotent beasts. But there’s a monster all other beast falls secondary to, the devil. 

They didn’t possess the sharpest talons nor the largest fangs. No, what made them so horrifying is that they dawned the most enchanting faces. 

He’s staring at it right now. The face of the devil who deceived him. 

Those gods must be laughing at him right now. Those false idols, with their capricious fate and whims, who once must’ve shook hands with you to carry out their schemes all those years ago. 

The scheme which imprisons him here in this humiliating form of the mortal creatures those false idols loved so much. 

Yes, a devil, that must be what you are. For how did a meek mortal trick a dragon who once held the full authority of the tides?

His chest expands with a deep breath before a long exhale leaves him. Ah, yes that must be why this white gown has appeared before him again. He removes the senseless scrap of lace, checking once more for signs of discomfort before he turns his body away. 

Finding himself outside the threshold of his bedroom as he closes the door behind him. He should wait here for the Melusines to arrive with a change of clothes and towels. 

It’d buy him enough time to steadily return the tempestuous loch to a subdued ripple in a pond. His chest expands once more with a deep inhale. 

A second cruel rendition unfolding once more in the narrative of time.  

The crisp turn of a page resounds through the room. Lilac eyes glanced up from the text every so often to watch the steady rises and falls of your chest from his vantage point of a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside. 

Heavy lashes still shut just as they were the day your drenched figure was pulled from the tides by merciful hands. 

The journey to wisdom is lined with mistakes, mistakes providing teachings one must ingrain into their very being if they don’t wish to repeat such blunders again.

Just as how a burn seared into skin is a forever reminder that fire indeed burns indiscriminately. 

A scar ingrained deep within him cries out for Neuvillette to withdraw from the fire which scorned him so long ago. 

Alas, it’s duty which has sat him down beside your sleeping form. You’re the first guest this cove has seen in a long time, thus bringing you under the responsibility of the host, Neuvillette himself. 

A stir brings his stoic gaze back away from his thoughts. Your chest rises with a long inhale as leaden lashes flutter open.

The cadence of your breaths begins to rise as more of your senses return to you. Fatigue evident in each slow drag of breath. 

“Ah, I see you’ve awoken.” Neuvillette observes. 

Your muscles momentarily forget their fatigue as your head snaps toward the owner of the deep voice. Eyes now wide and alert. 

“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.” He casts a glance toward the steaming bowl on the nightstand. 

He could feel the weight of your stare travels up his figure. Do you perhaps remember him? Can you recall his lush snowy locks streaked with azure? Irises that held an all too familiar hue, a multitude of lilac shades much like a field of lavenders.

Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled? 

“W-who are you?...” Your gaze was too cowardly to meet his.

Ah, have the cycle of death and rebirth washed those sins and memories?

The tonality of your trembling voice filled with puzzlement instead of recognition. He should’ve expected this much.

This you is nothing more than a stranger who shares the face of a devil. 

“Where am I?” Another question leaves those lips in the absence of a response. 

Just give him a moment, allow him to pacify the surging torrent within so their bitterness doesn’t seep into his words. 

“You’re in our village!” A cheery voice joins the conversation. 

Two pairs of eyes land upon a short figure with a pair of pastel horns. You blink once, then twice, then slowly thrice. Inquisitive eyes stared right back at you. 

“W-what… are you?” Instinct commanding your body to retract deeper into the sheets. 

A sharp cough halts your actions, drawing your attention back to the man as he lowers his hand down from his lips. 

“She’s a Melusine, they prefer to be addressed using she/her pronouns,” he elucidates, an ever so subtle chastise in his tone. 

“Oh…” You advert your gaze again, shame creeping onto your cheeks from your unintentional discourtesy. 

A few breaths of silence follow, he observes you studying everything but the two figures just beside the bed.

Your fingers soothing over the soft cotton nightgown against your skin, a change from that restrictive and ornate dress. 

“We, Melusines, helped you change out of that wet dress. Big sister Sedene said you’d get sick if we left you in that.” 

It looks like your diverted gaze wasn’t as subtle as you originally thought. Sheepishly you extend your gratitude. 

“Thank you…” Your words draw out, a brow quirked as your stare remained on her short form. 

“Kiara!” She points to herself with a mitten hand. 

“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish. 

Her mittened hand then gestures to the towering man beside her. 

“This is Monsieur Neuvillette! He’s the one who carried you here,” she announces. 

“T-thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You could only gather the courage to glance at the wall behind him. 

“Just Neuvillette is fine,” his tone melodic and calm. “Are you able to sit up?”

Nodding your head, you attempt to fight through the fatigue of your muscles. Neuvillette and Kirara offer their assistance, his firm hands guiding your body up as Kirara adjusts the pillows to support your back. 

Once you were situated, he reached for the bowl placed down earlier. A light clink sounds out from a spoon clattering about the porcelain dish. You glance at the contents, noting the clear amber broth. 

“This should be kind on your stomach while providing you with some much-needed hydration and nutrients.” He holds out the soup. 

A quivering hand attempts to reach up for the bowl, only for muscles to lose to fatigue as your arm limply falls back down to your side. Your strength has yet to return. 

Another clink from the spoon resounds in the room as it gets taken into the grasp of an attentive hand. He holds out a spoonful of the warm soup, but your lips remain shut as a skeptical gaze meets his. 

“Please forgive this inconvenience, but it’s best that you eat something to regain your strength.” The spoon remains unmoving in his hand. 

There’s a rumbling stir within him. A voice snarls into his ear, interrogating him as to why his hand is feeding the very devil who once bit it. 

“If you don’t eat you won’t get better.” Kiara’s eyes are riddled with concern as she observes your sealed lips. 

That was his rebuttal to that snarl.

The Melusines simply don’t wish to see a human in such a pitiful state. Blissful in their ignorance of events that conspired long before their birth. 

 Dignity overpowered by the guilt of seeing such pure eyes marred with worry. 

Soon your lips part, accepting the spoonful of broth delicately offered by him. After he observes you swallowing the first sip, Neuvillette holds out another spoonful. You part your lips again.

Neuvillette overrides the clamorous warnings of his instincts with the duty of being a ‘good host’, bringing another sip to your delicate lips.

 

With a regular diet of warm broth with servings of Bulle Fruit on the side, you were soon able to pick up the spoon yourself. The fatigue that plagued your bones finally leaves, allowing you to support your body off the mattress which had your shape imprinted into it. 

The Melusines, seemingly born infatuated with humanity, would often gather about your bed.

They were curious about you just as you were about them. To them, you’re the creature from those fairytales he’s read them. 

In exchange for your recollections of warm Summer days and descriptions of lush lilac fields swaying in a gentle breeze, they reveal more about this village.

About how the estate you were currently residing in was refurbished by their own-mittened hands, taking inspiration from the various books depicting what human abodes looked like. 

The beds, drapes, and even rugs are all arranged by them to create a lovely abode. A drastic change to the worn and rampaged shell it once was before their meddling.

Perhaps if he never filled their naive minds with those tales, they wouldn’t be enamored with you and humanity. 

Or maybe it’s the vibrance of your smile that drew their naive souls closer. A warmth like a flickering candlelight beckoning a moth closer.

What are the odds that the hands of fate stayed so faithful to the details of a heroine from so long ago? 

From your image to your bewitching mannerisms, and alluring voice, they’re all identical replicas. You and the ‘devil’ from that tale. 

Wisdom from a lesson learned long ago, he must not repeat the same mistake. He must not be enchanted by the same flame which scorned him. He must ensure a breadth between you and him, just as those tiresome voices call for. 

However, Neuvillette understands he has a responsibility as a host. Thus, he regularly checked on your condition, then when you were well enough to stretch your legs he accompanied you on strolls. Maintaining a respectable distance away. 

He guided you through the marble halls of the estate, showing the library and bath which were yours to access whenever you wanted.

Rooms illuminated with the muted glow of luminescence gems and pearls. Water sourced from a hidden freshwater spring. 

Impassive eyes observe yours as you look in awe at the facilities and commendations hidden deep under the tides. Were they comparable to the ones you’ve encountered back on the surface? 

This estate, these wide stone halls, those pearls and jewels once scattered about, were all made just to please the bitter tears of a mortal. Perhaps his first attempt was too subpar to quell the longing to return to the sunlight. 

But gauging from the glimmer reflecting off your eyes, it seems the Melusines attempt was satisfactory at least. 

Today’s stroll took you outside of the estate, Neuvillette accompanying you about a routine walk, watching from behind as your eyes scan the dim realm.

The lanterns lining the path of Melusine's home grace the maroon pastures and rocky walls in place of the faint wisps of sunlight offered by the depths of the sea. 

Very much expected for a village beneath the waves and earth. Were you reminiscing about the warm grace of the sun you felt up there?

It’s not fair to compare the vast sky of the surface to their cavern hidden away from the eyes of the mortals, perhaps even the divine themselves. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” You began today’s attempt at a conversation. 

“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment. 

He keeps sentences brief, but informative. Counters to your attempts at conversation. 

“I’m aware this might sound strange, but is there a dragon down here?” Turning back to face him.

His strides stop as a lull of silence falls over the both of you. The weight of his unshaken gaze upon your shoulders caused them to tense up.

Your hands find each other for comfort under his oppressive stare as he awaits the reason behind this odd inquiry. 

“W-well you see, Fontaine has been having awful weather for years now. Saltwater ruining crops and persistent heavy rain, it’s because the Hydro Dragon is crying from his loneliness. I was selected and offered as his bride, to stop the rain, that’s what The Oratrice instructed,” you babble out. 

“So…do you know where he is?” Sheepishly you glance up. 

The lilac hues of his eyes connect with yours as his lips remain unmoving. Staring into your eyes as he contemplates what you have just revealed to him. Your hands fumble together as you await his response.

“So humans are still telling that local legend…” He sighs. 

He has to rein it back. The torrent which threatens to brew within him. Deep breaths to remind himself about the nature of mortals. 

Humans are fickle and meek creatures who constantly yearn for something divine to worship, a figurehead to guide them in the turbulence of life.

When faced with hardship and destitution, they believe such concepts to be punishment from above. 

Thus, they invent traditions to appease those false idols. Going to great lengths in attempts to pacify those unseen forces, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own. 

Perhaps this was the trait of mortals that made them so favored by the usurpers, their naive devotion feeding into the greed of selfish gods.

Maybe that’s why those false idols uprooted the land that belonged to dragons. 

“I wonder just how far that fable has spread by now,” he sighs again.

His lashes flutter shut in exasperation as a huff leaves him. It was a moment before they flutter back open to hone in on you. There’s no use in keeping his identity from you any longer. 

“Do I seem lonely in your eyes?” Baritone voice steady and low. 

No sounds fall from your agape lips as your eyes reexamine his features, this time shamelessly ogling the peculiar details you’ve brushed off previously.

Do you notice it now? How his ears were a bit too pointed, or those two particular cerulean strands of ‘hair’ poking out from his snowy locks. 

As you study the specifics of his eyes, do you now comprehend the sharp dark pupils that cut through the multitude of lilac shades? Much like a shadow cutting through a field of lavenders. 

“You’re the Hydro Dragon,” you deduce. 

He nods in confirmation. Only causing your eyes to scan over him again as your mind reels back from this revelation. 

In those stories you’ve read back on the surface, how did they depict him? As a towering scaled beast with fangs and claws? Are you wondering why he’s not matching that description? 

“I’m aware that my current shape might not convey such a presence, ” he answers your unspoken question. 

He fights for his lips to remain stoic, not allowing the weight of a frown to pull them down. You don’t know, you don’t need to know, he reminds himself. 

A detail excluded from the pages of that tale, the ‘princess’ would only ever look at him, would only ever smile at him when a dragon took on this shape. A form which mirrors humans. 

In fact, she was so fond of this human shell of his that she cursed him to dwell within it for the rest of eternity. 

Neuvillette takes another deep breath, quelling the stir once more. You look like you had more questions. 

“So… does that mean the need for a bride is fictitious?” You clutch your hands tighter. 

Some years ago, the Melusines were born from spilled blood. A new generation of successors of the brethren he once forsaken. Making this prison much less lonesome, voiding the accuracy of the sentence in that tale. 

If that was the case, then why did the waters still rage? Why did the pittering of rain drown out all bird songs and tumults of perplexed citizens? Is there a way he could simplify the details missed by storytellers for generations? 

After that ‘happily ever after’, a dragon cursed his devil just as she cursed him. 

No, such expositions would be an unfair burden upon your shoulders. 

“It’s not fictitious.” Turning to gaze out at the depths of the underground realm, he takes a breath before continuing. 

“The land which your nation, Fontaine, resides on is stolen land,” he reveals. “More accurately all of what you know as ‘Teyvat’ was stolen from the dragons, my fellow brethren.” 

The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on. 

“My brethren were banished to the depths for the sake of humanity. A dragon’s rage isn’t something that can be easily quelled.” He glances back at you. 

“A union between a dragon and a human, a show of peace between the two species. Even if the origins of this ritual have been embellished heavily, it serves the same purpose to pacify the ancient dragon’s rage,” he concludes. 

Neuvillette wonders if this tale was enough to satisfy your inquiry, if his attempt at the human practice was enough to simplify the events muddled and twisted by time.

Impassive eyes scan over your expression, not missing the glimmer ever so bright within. 

“So… has the rain stopped?” Your hands almost clasped together in prayer. 

He nods, the shine growing ever so luminous in those blameless irises, one he couldn’t resist the enchantment of. That all too familiar look in your eyes. 

“That’s good.” A slow smile made its appearance upon plush lips.

Ah. He remembers what that look was called, voices of recollection pulling him away from the edge. Just before he fell into bewitchment once more.

That look wasn’t relief, nor was it salvation. It's duty. He takes a slow and deep inhale. 

Just as it was all those years ago, the narrative of this tale did not stray away from the plot. He must be more careful. 

There’s been a still lull engulfing the atmosphere down in a hidden cavern. So still in fact that walks amongst maroon patches of grass have stopped. Your body was well enough to explore the corners of the state without assistance. 

No reason for him to remain by your side throughout the day, and no reason for you to shadow him. 

Neuvillette and you keeping mostly to one’s self. It was just the natural progression of things. After all, the ritual had been completed and the tides had receded. You’ve served your duty once more. 

A foreign aroma was wafting through the estate, strange enough for Neuvillette to leave the library to investigate the origins of this aroma.

Steps slowing as the clacker of pots and pans becomes more distinct. The entrance of the estate kitchen comes into view, and he peers in to see a few familiar faces. 

“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence. 

An assortment of vegetables, spices, and even some meats from fresh catches were spread about the table as a pan sizzling over a crackling fire.

Ingredients gathered from offering dropped down below the tides. The recent influx could be attributed to how the hymn of the rain has ceased. 

“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette.” Your smile greets him. 

Ah, he’s found the explanation behind the foreign aroma and why the variety spread of ingredients was being utilized in a kitchen that was once mainly created just to match those diagrams drawn in novels. 

“I hope you don’t mind my use of the kitchen, I wanted something other than…Consomme Purete.” Wiping your hands with a rag. 

Yes, Consomme Purete.

It was the dish served when you had first woken up, a light but nutritious soup that was kind on your stomach. It had the right amount of hydration balanced with nutrients to sustain oneself, a perfect dish.

The only dish cooked in this kitchen, that was until today. 

Removing a pan from the heat, you carefully transfer the contents onto a plate then place the pan back on the wood stove.

The rich aroma caused an audience of bright-eyed stares from the Melusines to center upon the steaming plate. Their tails make their excitement clear as they gaze upon a dish they’ve never seen before. 

Was this a new passion of this life?... Or was it just one he never got the chance to witness?

Was this the devil before the role of a bride was forced upon her? A devil he’s never known, for all he saw was her performance to stop the deafening rain all those years ago.

His attention was brought back as the chime of cutlery against porcelain was heard, cooked veggies stabbed between the teeth of a fork.

Cupping a hand under the fork, your body leans down to the Melusine’s height, feeding them a bite of the fragrant dish. The wags of their tails increase in cadence as they chew. 

“This is Tasses Ragout, tasty isn’t it?” The corners of your lips curl as you watch their little heads nod eagerly. 

The suspicion melts from his gaze as he observes to the delight in their expressions, a few mitten hands tugging at the skirt of your gown for a bite. A giggle bubbles from your throat.

A scene mirroring that of a mother trying to appease the appetites of her ravenous young. 

Soon your eyes connect and he straightens his posture. Brushing away the nonsensical musing, lilac hue advert away momentarily to recompose themselves before returning. 

“Would you like a taste?” A fork offered in his direction, beckoning closer to take a bite. 

There’s a myth he’s read about, of a forbidden apple held out by the tempter of all tempters, an apple so red and lustrous it made any mouth salivate. 

“Thank you for the offer, however, I’ve already had my lunch.” He refrains. 

A bite from that forbidden fruit was the genesis of disgrace and banishment. A betrayal of commandments once promised. Neuvillette won’t be deceived again. 

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

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Come look!” 

Mittened hands grasping upon his coat and gloved hands as a circle of Melusines guides him through the winding halls, anticipation amping their voices. 

There’s a chorus of giggles resounding through the halls, a joyous clamor of pattering steps against the marble floors.

The estate has been lively ever since your arrival in that white dress, a liveness which reaches his pointed ears even from behind closed doors. 

Regardless, he allows himself to be towed by their skipping steps. Leading him to a room he recognizes as a space where many fabrics and gowns were collected and stored.

Garments made with the intent to be sold to Fontainians, but their crates were capsized over by the ravenous tides. Saved from watery abandonment by curious hands. 

While this form of his could wear a few of those garments, the Melusines had statures much too short for pools of fabric to not drag along the ground. Thus, that collection of fabrics found themselves collecting dust. 

Their steps abruptly stop just at the threshold of the door, mittened hands pressed up against their lips signaling for him to remain silent.

Soon their sights glance into the room as he follows, lilac eyes opening ever so slightly wider as they process the scene in front of him. 

Evening gowns crafted by skilled tailors to be sold to Fontanian ladies, you had the right frame for those garments as well.

A trail of lustrous sapphire silk gathered behind your figure. The artistic stitching and pleating draping the silk around each curve of your body as if you were the only person meant to wear it. 

A few Melusines fussing about the silk train, ever so curious of humanity, they must’ve requested for you to dawn the gown.

Just as they often had requested for him to dawn those fickle suits and coats for their enjoyment.

It seems you bent to their childish whims just as he does. 

“How do you like it?” You ask your audience, twirling about in front of a mirror. 

It’s different from those hardier dresses for when you wandered about the village and estate, in comparison this dress was much less practical. 

“It’s beautiful, Madame!” Their round eyes were enamored.

“I’m glad, who knew you had such an aesthetic eye.” Your expression softens. 

Bending down to Carole’s height, you scooped her up. Cradling her as your forehead touches her horns gently.

“Thank you for such a lovely dress.” Placing tender pats along her head, careful to not disturb her horns and hair. 

Carole leans into your touch as your smile widens. Twirling once more with her in your arms, giggles ringing throughout the room.

Until your head peeked up, finally aware of the silent spectator just behind the door frame. 

“Oh, hello Neuvillette,” you greet him with a smile he doesn’t return.

A tense lull creeps in, and a chill begins to mix with the quiet atmosphere. Lilac eyes pass over your form as Carole remains sat in your arms.

“Monsieur! Isn’t Madame pretty? Look!” Cheery and oblivious voices chime returning the warmth to the air. 

Mitten hands release your skirt as they skitter toward his towering figure. Pride shines in their beaming smiles, awaiting validation of their handy work.

Steadfast eyes lowering themselves to the level of their short statures until the sharp edges gradually dissipate. 

“A fine effort indeed.” A gloved hand extends to rest atop their heads. 

Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment 

A warmth in those lilac hues, endearment no word could ever encapsulate fully. 

“Are they your daughters?” Your head slants to the side.

His body stills, strictness reinstated in those violet irises just as they met yours. Studying that look within your polite smile, one which didn’t seem to reach your eyes. 

Gloved hand ceasing all movement, his concentration now elsewhere. That expression ghosting your face, what does it mean? 

“My apologies, was it too impudent of a question?” Your gaze adverts away, searching for reprieve in this heavy hush.

A deep breath as he formulates his response. 

“I don’t share blood with them if that’s what you’re inquiring. However, they are the successors of my brethren.” 

“Oh, I see,” you hum. 

 Neuvillette returns to patting their heads, while you readjust your hold on Carole. Subtly bouncing her, while turning back to face the standing mirror.

Casting a glance, he could discern the softness returning to that polite smile. Yet, the dragon has yet to unravel that luster in your irises. 

An audience of bright eyes switches between the Monsieur and Madame. 

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

“Bring these to her, you should greet the Madame!” Tiny hands push against Neuvillette’s back. 

The traitorous clicks of his shoes against marble expose his approach.

Your head peers up from the book resting upon your lap, in the midst of reading a tale aloud to an audience. 

Just in time to catch the tall figure of Neuvillette emerging into the library at the behest of the Melusines. 

Lilac eyes meet yours ever so briefly before his gaze averts elsewhere. Gloved hand adjusting a bundle hidden a broad back, brings the other hand up to clear his throat. 

“The Melusines found these when retrieving some offerings from the water, I believe you’ll enjoy them.” He presents their trinket. 

A simple collection of dainty petals clustered together, pastel hues contrast against vivid virescent leaves. A quaint ribbon tied around the stems holding the bunch together held out in front of your face.

The recipient stares in round-eyed astonishment at the fragrant blooms before a smile melts into your lips. 

“Thank you.” You accept the bouquet from his hand. 

Admiring the rustic arrangement and the saccharine aroma as the Melusines sat around you leaned in closer to catch a whiff too. 

“These are called Pluie Lotus up on the surface, they smell nice right?” Giggling lightly as you held the bouquet closer to their noses. 

Grin ever present upon your lips as your soft eyes watch their marvel of such simple weeds. A bloom foreign to this realm abandoned by the sunlight. 

There’s subtle slack in his posture, a budding smile just about to unfold just as your head peers back up. Every fiber in Neuvillette’s being tenses, goosebumps slithering up his nape. 

Frozen there only able to witness your eyes study back and forth the hues of his irises and the periwinkle color tinting the fragile petals.

He watches an epiphany light up in your widened eyes as the bouquet was lifted higher, turning back to face him. 

Don’t. Don’t say the words he knows are hanging off the tip of that honeyed tongue. 

“They are the same lovely color as your eyes, Neuvillette.” You beam at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling from the stretch of your lips. 

His posture returns to its rigid and upright state, a hand hidden from view balls up into a fist.

A sharpness threatening to break through leather confines and into his palm, as if they were attempting to grapple the surging torrent stirred up within himself. 

Why? Why was this line from a script being recited word for every damn word? All said with that saccharine smile plastered over those wicked lips? 

Indecipherable eyes narrow ever so slightly before he catches himself. Reining in the torrent just before it seethed out.

He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness. 

“Do excuse me, please return to your reading session,” he utters his parting. 

Promptly turning to return to his secludedness, stepping past the Melusines gathered by his side.

Swift strides through the empty halls leaving you to your peace and him to his peace, just as it should’ve been. Much to the pouts of a disappointed audience. 

However, he didn’t have the mind to contemplate their discontent. Not when these rabid bellows drown out every other thought in their rancor.

Like a sea starved for vengeance, ravenous to settle a debt against those vile gods and their beloved creations. 

A brass knob was abruptly twisted, hinges squealing in surprise as at the force as Neuvillette shuts it behind himself.

Ragged breathes resounding through the reprieve of his bedroom. Away from innocent bystanders and the devil who showed her face again after all these centuries for an encore.  

Has he not been humiliated enough? He tugs at his cravat, freeing himself from the fickle decoration constricted about his neck in this already imprisoning body.

A form which binded him no matter how violently talons and fangs clawed and chewed, unable to leave a singular dent upon this damn curse. 

This was humiliating enough, bound to this cove that separated him from the sea which cries for their sovereign.

He once believed this penitentiary was obscured away from the peeking eyes of capricious gods. Perhaps, he’s wrong. 

Why is this fantasy being played out right in front of his eyes now after all these years?

To have you by his side, to have you reside in the home he craved out and inlaid pearls into, to see you smile and cradle young against your bodice. It’s insulting. 

Because this was all he ever wanted. This was all he had ever wanted. 

The lonesome dragon only ever yearned for a maiden’s endearment. He once believed she adored him back just the same. 

Because while she lay within his arms under silken covers, her bare skin pressed against his mortal shape, her enchanting eyes always regarded him with such tenderness as her delicate hand stroked his cheek. 

A glimmer he once believed was love.  

The tale written along the parchment implied that the ‘princess’ loved the dragon. However, that was inaccurate. She never did. 

For if she loved him, then she wouldn’t have deceived him.

She wouldn’t have ever whispered his secret to the town’s folk. Those foul creatures who then used his secret, which was once reserved solely for ‘you’.

Why? That simple question taunted him for decades as he rotted in this mocking solitude.

Why did ‘you’ yearn for the sun more than him? Was his love not enough to replace the warmth of a star? Was the home he made not enough when compared to the extravagance of humanity? 

Or was it because blood and water, no matter how much they intertwine and mix, could never produce wine? 

If… if the Melusines had been born just a few centuries earlier, then would you have been satisfied by his side? An answer he could already discern.

 Because after his decades of solitude within these deridingly hushed walls, he finally accepted the truth. 

 She loved her people, they took up all the space of her heart, leaving no room for a prideful leviathan.

What a clever plan it all was, to distract a sovereign from his duty, cleansing stolen land with a flood of vengeance, by sending a maiden.

A woman so bewitching, so enchanting, and so lovely, that a proud dragon couldn’t resist bending to her whims. Spilling the secret hidden deep within him into her ear. 

Abandoning his true form to be confined in the shape she favored the most. Then lured up to the surface, suspicions obstructed by the dazzlement of a false welcome from the nation of Fontaine. 

Unaware until the scorching knife was already lodged in his back. Using the secret he had only ever told you, those meek creatures of the usurpers wished:

‘For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides’. 

What a clever ploy, a masterly crafted master plan. Did that Oratrice bestow it upon mortals? Or was it your own little scheme? A devil in human skin who must’ve been enlisted by the god themselves. 

 That day when he was chained by that loch, you didn’t even bother to grace him with your presence.

You cruel, cruel devil whose heart only had room for her fellow citizens of Fontaine, whose eyes only ever glimmered with duty. 

Neuvillette had finally comprehended the truth, he had made peace with the disgrace he brought upon himself. 

So why did those vile false gods dangle you back in his face? They had already taken fragments of his authority.

Was his torment entertaining to them? 

Lungs shaking with unsteady breaths, he could feel the pricks of scales dotted along his skin only for this body to swiftly reject it. A turmoil of draconic influence constrained by a mortal curse. 

Like a beast kept in a cage much too small for it. If Neuvillette wishes for this agitation to cease, he must cease the stirred emotions. 

 Emotions don’t settle quickly once agitated like sand attempting to settle at the bottom of violent tides. He paces his shuddery inhales, biding in the solitude of his room until the storm dissipates. 

To avoid the placid lake within him from thrashing violently to the woes from the throb of a wound which has yet to scar over, Neuvillette found it best to avoid your presence. 

The lanterns outside the Melusine’s homes had long gone out as they followed their routine bedtime.

The expanse of the cavern dimmed to near blackness, the small creatures all tucked away soundly in their beds. A hushed ambiance provides a suitable environment for reflection. 

His steps flatten the grass underneath as they accompany his strides with their rustling.

The absence of light had never bothered him, it’s within his nature to detest it. Any beast would withdraw away from the mere image of fire. 

The rustle of the grass halts, a wispy aroma of smoke wafts towards him. It doesn’t take long to identify the origin. Only a small flicker broke through the shadows, candlewick fostering only a weak flame.

But it was enough to fend the shadows away from your frame. 

The flame’s light caught on each subtle ripple of the pond you were kneeling over.

The seemingly unremarkable pool served as the sole entrance and exit to Merusea Village. Where the Melusines traveled through to gather food, fresh water, and trinkets swallowed up by the waves. 

Cold waters catch the bitter droplets of your pained eyes in the reflection of the ripples upon the surface, the distorted silhouette of a weeping devil. 

An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils. 

Under the rich aromas wafting from the kitchen, behind the diligently tailored gowns, and hidden in the cadence of your voice as you read tales aloud, laid the yearning for the rays of a bright star. 

You’re human, a creature fleeting and meek by nature. Blood yearns to be with blood just as every drop of rain yearns to return to a cloud. 

A sharp rustle of grass under a heavy step jolts your hunched-over posture straight, head whipping around to face the uninvited audience.

Once those weeping eyes recognize the brooding figure in front of them, your face adverts away from his direction. Shame evident upon your expression. 

A concerned hand reaches out only to retract away, contrition marring his shut lips as Neuvillette diverts his eyes too.

Fire burns indiscriminately, even the dancing flame of a candle can sear its mark upon skin. Neuvillette knows this all too well, for the lesion he received from embracing that flame once still festers even after all these years.  

However, lilac eyes pan back towards the orange glow illuminating your melancholic face. Warm hues contrast against the wet trails down your cheeks. There’s an ache more agonizing than a festering wound. 

His steps advanced closer until he was knelt down by your slump frame. A benevolent touch lands upon your shoulder. Guiding you away from the taunting waters and into his arms, hiding your face in his broad shoulder. 

 Offering you a semblance of warmth in a coven shunned from the grace of gentle sunlight.

With your face away from his gaze, the cacophony of your sobs returns, digging your fingers into the folds of his dress shirt.

Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.

Perhaps a foolish dragon has yet to learn his lesson, still lured in that the brilliant light of a flame. 

A gentle hand traces up along your back, softly brushing your hair away to reveal the skin of your nape to his sharp pupils.

Honed in upon untainted skin, the courts of rebirth may have removed the proof of your damnation, but not the hex itself. 

Or maybe, a foolish dragon feels some responsibility for being the one to curse you to this fate. 

A mark once imprinted upon your nape by a lonesome dragon, a heavy oath sworn to you engrained into the very fabric of your soul amidst the first rendition.

One which then became the cursed chains that sunk you under the unforgiving waters.

It’s said that love is heavy, a weight greater than the density of water. A heaviness which could sink anything and everyone under salty tides. 

A heaviness originating from this accursed prison where a disgraced being resided.

Even as the earth above welcomed new generations as they said goodbye to bygone times. 

The solitude of a fool turning into ravenous waves which seeped into soil until its appetite was satiated by the return of its beloved treasure.

It’s his fault that the tides stole you from the sunlight. 

The courts of rebirth had already forgiven you of this burden, not a single memory remaining of that tale.

What right does he have to place it back upon you? There’s no point in punishing one for a sin that had been cleansed by the tides of time.

You didn’t deserve to be held away from the warmth of a benevolent sun.

To have been dragged down below to these depths. To have been stolen away from the warmth of the sun by the command of fickles gods and ancient grudges.

It’s much too severe of a sentence for you, someone who didn’t deserve to repent for a sin that wasn’t truly yours. 

Is it okay for his hands to wipe away your tears when this cursed dragon was the cause of your agony?

Even if it’s wrong, Neuvillette holds you closer. Even if he didn’t have the right, he pressed your face in his shoulder. Allowing the vehemence of your tears to scorch his skin as you buried your cries into him. 

Glancing at the pool you had been leaning over, he watches as the ripples of the surface taunt you and him the same.

Two beings whose bodies couldn’t embrace the tides. Two cursed beings who’ve been trapped in repeated play. 

“It seems you’re bound to this prison as well.” He scorns those gods and ancient grudges, but he scorns himself the most.

Confined behind a human face and a human body, a traitor who’s lost his birthright over the waters who couldn’t welcome him.

How can a cursed dragon quell those choking sobs of yours? How can he atone for his selfish sin?

Neuvillette takes a deep breath just your tears continue to soak his skin. Steeling his resolve, he meditates on the one resolution he can offer you. 

“Fontainians still tell a tale about a princess who wished a dragon to become a prince, yes?” He begins. 

After a pause filled with hiccups and shaky breaths, you nod your head as an answer. 

“It was when she spoke the dragon’s true name that he granted her one wish,” he recounts the tale, feeling the trembles of your shoulders. 

“That part of the story isn’t fictitious,” he reveals.

Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions. 

However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs. 

“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.” 

Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes. 

“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire. 

“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.” 

“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes. 

He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing. 

“That is what you must find for yourself.” 

Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end. 

The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead. 

“Oh?”

“Oh?”

What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.

Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor. 

“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you. 

Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath. 

“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up. 

Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.

The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon. 

He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly. 

“Oh…”

It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight. 

This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.

It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you. 

It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his. 

Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him? 

“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws. 

“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?” 

Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?

The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions. 

You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire. 

Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs. 

Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation. 

“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen. 

Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl. 

“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over. 

“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.

A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel. 

This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup? 

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness. 

Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat. 

“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises. 

A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space. 

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something. 

As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders. 

Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride. 

You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return. 

“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation. 

The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips. 

“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something. 

After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.

Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup. 

In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint. 

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

“Is your name Édouard?” 

Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.

You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.

Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.

However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?

Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows. 

Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics. 

Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.

He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name. 

Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.

All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.

He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.

“There’s a tear in your coat…” 

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear. 

“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams. 

He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say. 

“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer. 

It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands. 

To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment. 

Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host. 

“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.” 

His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.

As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.

“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands. 

Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.

Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him. 

“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair. 

Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.

However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture. 

Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.

His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table. 

The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences. 

“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth. 

Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.

Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.

Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long. 

“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself. 

Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.

Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body. 

Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.

If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them. 

Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.

Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure. 

By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.

Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support. 

Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.

The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands. 

“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude. 

He hums an answer. 

“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows. 

“Why did you say that?” You finish your question. 

Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences. 

The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool. 

“Do you really wish to know?” He warns. 

You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here. 

Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat. 

“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals. 

The needle stops.

“A curse?…” you stammer out. 

Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.

The answer was sitting just in front of him. 

“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?” 

To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.

But such hands could not touch a being such as him. 

“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept. 

“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber. 

Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.

To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.

For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea. 

Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse. 

“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper. 

Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears. 

“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.” 

Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale. 

Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?

A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal. 

 Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape. 

Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.

More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.

Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?

The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal. 

A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool. 

What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.

A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting. 

“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present. 

Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer. 

“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.” 

Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves. 

He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.

Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.  

“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap. 

A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace. 

However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice. 

Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.

Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.

It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles. 

Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame. 

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

“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor. 

Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.

Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette. 

“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.

“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.” 

“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…” 

There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt. 

“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.” 

She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face. 

“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate. 

You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel. 

“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns. 

A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets. 

Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd. 

“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress. 

“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside. 

“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted. 

Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.

They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses. 

He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.

For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison? 

His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now? 

“Could you be expecting?” 

Huh?

Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.

Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation. 

“Will there be a new addition to the village?” 

“How long do we have to wait?” 

“Are we getting a brother or sister?” 

Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat. 

“No,” he coughs out. 

A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes. 

“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement. 

A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.

A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine. 

“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps. 

You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.

A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down. 

“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles. 

Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness. 

Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time. 

Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?

Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?

“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks. 

Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down. 

“Where does a baby come from?” 

The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.

If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?

How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?

“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.

“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?” 

At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.

The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve. 

“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.  

“Of course, Sébastien.” 

His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts. 

“Regrettably, that is not my name.” 

“Was it at least a decent attempt?” 

He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.

Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed. 

His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.

Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.

Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.

No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.

“Do you miss the sea?” 

Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.

Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response. 

“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.” 

After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.

Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight. 

Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.

One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.

For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. 

Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips. 

His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.

Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.

However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands. 

When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle. 

It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.

The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish. 

A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.

An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…

Neuvillette clears his throat. 

“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you. 

“Oh?...” The comb stops.

At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone. 

A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff. 

“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly. 

The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’. 

Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily. 

He needs to leave now. For your sake. 

Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face. 

Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?  

The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn. 

The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin. 

How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering. 

A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory? 

Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.

No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.

Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct. 

From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly. 

But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity. 

He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows. 

Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought. 

The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.

“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.

Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust. 

“Neuvillette?” 

He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust. 

 The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart. 

Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure. 

However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment. 

So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets. 

A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer. 

“Neuvillette?…” 

His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion. 

He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face. 

“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes. 

The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form. 

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut. 

“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown. 

Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.

“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.

 Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.

“...But I missed you…” You whisper. 

Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth. 

“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this. 

“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.

Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body. 

“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit. 

“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder. 

Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes. 

Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.

“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours. 

Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat. 

And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy. 

“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it? 

Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long. 

Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat. 

The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.

His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air. 

Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.

A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away. 

Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?

They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.

Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right? 

His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.

Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise. 

His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections. 

Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?

Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?

There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch. 

Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper. 

Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin. 

Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.

A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.

Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit. 

Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.

Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires. 

A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.

Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well. 

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.

Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?

His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you. 

There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.

Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up. 

Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.

Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat. 

Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds.  Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.

The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.

Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.  

The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.

They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried. 

The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before? 

Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows. 

“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face. 

This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils. 

Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?

That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress. 

“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him. 

Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.

An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets. 

Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?

A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.

His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit. 

Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.

The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities. 

“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort. 

Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon. 

“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice. 

Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.

The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.

The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.

The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.

As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter. 

A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.

It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.

Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him. 

That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight. 

Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life. 

One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been. 

Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.

Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open. 

His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.

Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for. 

Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.

Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.

A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.

Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up? 

“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear. 

Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you. 

“That’s too bad.”

 His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms. 

He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.

Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you. 

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.

Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him. 

Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat. 

A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.

Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity. 

Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.

As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his. 

In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?

Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.

He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.

Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface. 

Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.

Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was. 

Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.

He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.

A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.

He doesn’t want to see it. 

The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues. 

But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.

What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much. 

It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.

As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin. 

Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them. 

How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick. 

You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.

How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters. 

You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition. 

If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting. 

Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.

The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.

Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?

There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.

Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame. 

There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.

Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.

His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips. 

The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.

The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head. 

Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.

He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all. 

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.

The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges. 

There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.

No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.

Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls. 

You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.

Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body. 

An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse. 

Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.

An offering made to him.

So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.

Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body. 

He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.

Why not renew it? 

Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.

Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape. 

‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.

Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.

No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well. 

It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.

But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper. 

Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon a burly hand.

Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.

An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his. 

Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.

Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind. 

A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.

However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart. 

The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession. 

For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.

No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles. 

He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.

Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown. 

Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.

 To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged. 

Oh, how could he not love you?

The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.

A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile. 

The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.

Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was. 

The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.

Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls. 

Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing. 

Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.

Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe. 

Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same. 

With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.

The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you. 

Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality. 

He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure. 

Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.

Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.

Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes. 

Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.

However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy. 

This wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance. 

The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin. 

A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers. 

A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness. 

A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.

Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort. 

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel. 

You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.

Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you. 

“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.

Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom. 

“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand. 

Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism. 

“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue. 

“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind. 

A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him. 

“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”

A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water. 

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

“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”

“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice. 

Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.

Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.

“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support. 

With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.

Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.

What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface. 

“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone. 

However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall. 

“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues. 

‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears. 

“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning. 

There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.

But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water. 

To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.

However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?

To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.

Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?

Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth? 

His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.

No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending. 

Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.

The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before. 

“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him. 

Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace. 

As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile. 

Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.

Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time? 

Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours. 

Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors? 

A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.

Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon. 

“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?

“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away. 

Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.

“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.

Why must you keep lying to him? 

Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.

Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away. 

Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called? 

“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him. 

A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.

For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale. 

“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over. 

This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that? 

“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle. 

Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore. 

“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation. 

Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.

The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.

Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in. 

He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve. 

“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know. 

But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity. 

He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires. 

“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands. 

He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his. 

“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.

His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish. 

Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.  

Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.

Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions. 

He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses. 

The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks. 

 “Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now. 

Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could. 

Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches. 

Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks. 

Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here. 

What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil. 

“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”

A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?

Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks. 

“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.

“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.

Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue. 

“How could I hate you?” he confesses. 

Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation. 

For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time. 

Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.

Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours. 

“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks. 

That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you? 

Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long? 

“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict. 

“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.

He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes. 

Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.

Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge. 

A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods. 

However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition. 

If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[saturngas]

megumi warming up to you

[🪐] a few years after megumi and tsumiki got "adopted" by you and gojo, megumi finally feels comfortable enough to tell you about his little school crush. just please don't tell gojo

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: sfw

warnings: established relationship; reader and gojo are both in their early 20s; megumi is around 8 years old; use of gender neutral pet names; megumi being gojo's number one despiser

word count: 1.4k

..

megumi was awfully quiet on the ride home. he and tsumiki were walking a few steps in front of you and satoru. not that he wasn't a quiet and reserved boy by nature, always seeming to be deep in thought and observant of his surroundings. but this time was just different. his little dark eyes were placed on the ground, guiding his careful step, while his lips displayed a subtle pout.

he seemed to be thinking hard.

you looked up at satoru who was chewing on the straw of his already finished strawberry milk box.

"satoru," his eyes fell immediately on you at the sound of his name. his left hand was intertwined with your smaller one, the warm air lingering around both of you making your hands to be a bit sweaty. "do you think megumi is okay? he looks... distracted."

"oh! yeah, of course! why wouldn't he be?" he muttered out a bit nervous, straw between his lips. were you aware of the little disagreement megumi had with a classmate a couple of days ago? he promised megumi you wouldn't know. "maybe he has a bit more homework today, baby. he probably is already thinking about the answers."

"mmm, yeah, true," you hummed. "please help him with that, yeah?" satoru felt his cheeks burn intently the moment you shot him your best puppy eyes. his round glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, revealing his big azure eyes. he left a boyish chuckle while rubbing the back of his neck.

"hah, of course, sweet pie, yeah, hah."

math was always the easiest subject for satoru. well, actually any subject was a piece of cake for him. but he liked math and physics a lot more. he would solve equations within seconds without thinking too much of them. you may have been a little jealous of him during high school when you two would compete to find out who was faster; you would lose for mere seconds.

megumi did have more homework that day, elementary-level math problems. but that wasn't the source of his concern. but he couldn't just tell satoru.

the black haired little guy looked at his benefactor. his stupid face with a stupid grin megumi just couldn't bring himself to get used to. satoru was chewing on a candy flavor gum. megumi could almost taste the intense flavor from his breath. how could he have something so overly sweet for so long in his mouth?

"what's wrong, little fella? you want to go over why two plus two equals four?" megumi sighed at his words. his worksheet displayed multiplication and division problems. of course he already knew how addition worked.

his tired eyes followed your silhouette as you helped tsumiki with a dna three-dimensional model. you were a lot more thoughtful, more considerate of others' feelings. you had the communication skills satoru lacked. for a second, megumi realized why satoru was with you, something he was questioning the moment he met you.

megumi was going to tell you.

it was the perfect moment. the idiot of your boyfriend was out in a mission and tsumiki had asked for permission to stay at a friend's. megumi was walking next to you. again, he looked lost in thought.

"megumi—," you cut yourself before spitting out the honorific -chan. the little guy hated being called megumi-chan. satoru did it all the time and megumi now can't handle it even if it comes from you. "are you alright? is there something you would like to tell me?" you said almost in a whisper.

the eight-year-old boy looked at you with indifferent eyes. he now was in the deepest of deep thoughts.

you sensed his little body tensing at your question. "hey, hey—, it's okay megumi. I won't tell satoru if you don’t want to, okay?"

his sight softened. bingo. that always worked with the little kid.

"I think... I've caught an interest in someone." megumi muttered below his breath, little fingers fidgeting. his glance on the ground as a deep shade of pink adorned his pale face.

oh, so this is what's about... you were fighting off a big smile that threatened to appear. you needed to remain serene if you wanted megumi to keep opening up to you.

"oh... who?" you said as softly as possible.

"it is a girl. she is nice. but she is from fifth grade." megumi sounded a bit sad. your heart crunched a bit. he was just a third grader. you weren't surprised he liked a girl who was older that him though. the little boy had complained before about his female classmates being a bit too... immature.

"where did you meet her, megumi?"

"from the art club tsumiki is in. I went with her once because I didn't have anything to do, and I saw her. she is very smart and is really good at acrylic painting."

so now everything makes sense. a few days ago, megumi had asked satoru the price for some acrylic paints that weren't made in Japan. you assumed the little girl had mentioned the brand and megumi was curious.

"what do you want to do about it, megumi?" the black haired boy fell silent again, so you continued, "do you want me to help you with getting close to her, or—"

"no, I want to do it on my own," he cut your words quickly with a serious tone. "just maybe... could you help me with some money? I promise to pay it back."

megumi was so cute you were sure your heart would turn into liquid from the way it was melting.

"ha ha! it's totally fine, megumi!" you let out a giggle. "of course I'll help you and you don't have to pay it back, 'kay?" you suggested with a big smile. "and I promise I won't say a word to satoru," you winked at him.

megumi felt relieved.

two weeks had passed since your little arrangement with megumi. he was actually very secretive with it. tsumiki was probably aware of his little crush on her classmate, but wasn't of the deal megumi made with you.

megumi was serious when he said he wanted to do it on his own. he only asked you for 7,000 yen. and that was the last thing you knew about all this.

you were getting ready for bed when satoru interrupted your skincare routine placing a wet kiss on your cheek. you groaned as he prepared to brush his teeth.

"baby, did you know megumi has a girlfriend?" satoru mumbled as toothpaste ran down his perfect chin.

"what?" you acted genuinely surprised. megumi already made her his girlfriend?

satoru grabbed a towel to dry his face and wipe off the counter. he always made a mess when brushing his teeth. "yeah baby. when I picked them up, he said goodbye to a girl, and I mean—! I have never seen him bid farewell to absolutely no one, not even me!" he said a bit exasperated, looking up at you with his baby blue eyes. "im pretty sure that's his girl or something."

poor megumi, his deepest secret was known by his greatest enemy. you sighed softly as you finished applying your lotion and walked close to satoru.

"that could be a possibility, 'toru," your hand roamed through his hard back as the other one went up to fidget with his soft white locks. satoru stared down at you lovingly, his arms encircling you with a tight grip. "but please, do not tease him." you voice was so hard and stern that it made the young sorcerer swallow all the spit in his mouth down his throat.

"yeah baby, no problem—."

"no, satoru, im being serious right now. leave him alone." you were dead serious, satoru knew. his lips moved unconsciously to yours to erase the subtle pout that was starting to form on your face.

"i promise, shnookums," he left a chaste kiss on your nose. "well then, I'll have to tease you tenfold babyyy~!" satoru hugged you with all his mighty force, knocking the air out of you. his large arms made you feel so safe and warm. satoru gave the best bear hugs.

"somebody gotta receive all my love~" you giggled at his words. satoru loves everyone, however many people may find his love language a bit… obnoxious and annoying. his lips now teasing your earlobe while his large hands rubbed your back. "or else my little brains might explode and— wait, baby," his warm lips left your skin, as he opened wide his blue eyes.

"what, what."

"so that is why you made a withdrawal of like seven thousand yen? to give it to megumi?"

"satoru are you checking my bank account?"

"baby I can't help it~," he whined out loud, his face snuggling down your neck while planting wet kisses around your neck. you couldn't help but feel funny when his hands danced under your shirt, caressing your hot skin. "you should end your independency and start using my credit cards."

your boyfriend was so shameless.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-four —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: ily

England passes in beautiful shades of green, the last time you'll see it, so you soak it in. Rolling hills streak the landscape like scars. In the distance, you glimpse faded architecture, imagining people living and working there. An ivy-covered university appears, and you picture yourself dozing off in a lecture. These little fantasies entertain you for the next two hours, but Blue isn't distracted by the same game. When you look at her arm, you notice pink scratches just below where the friendship bracelet hugs her wrist, made by her nails mindlessly.

You tear your eyes from the window and nudge your shoulder against hers. "Hey. What do you call a cow with no legs?"

Her lips twitch at the broken silence and she lifts her azure eyes to yours, a bead of sunlight catching in them. "What?"

"Ground beef."

Those eyes roll. "That's stupid."

Nereida smiles from the other side of her. "Oh, I've got one. What did the ocean say to the beach?"

Blue sighs. "Ghost said that one before. Nothing—it just 'waved'."

A recoil passes over Nereid's kind eyes. "I apologize. That's the only one I know."

Quiet air fills the space again, and when you notice Blue's nails dig back into her wrist, you gently lace your fingers through hers and pull her hand to your lap, allowing her to scratch your thigh, instead. 

When an old theme park erects from the grass, Blue's interest piques. "Woah. What is that?"

"None of it works anymore," Ghost mutters, one hand on the wheel.

"It looks cool, though. I have to pee, anyway. Can we stop here?"

"I could use a little stretch for my legs," Nereida adds.

The pitstop is brief enough to allow Blue the chance to curiously look through the decrepit bumper cars, carousel, and even a small rollercoaster that still has the car sitting mid-track. She grabs Ari's hand to show him, but he doesn't seem as intrigued given the pale look on his face. He ends up rushing to a bush and keeling over.

"The back gets a bit bumpy," Kyle says when he notices your expression. "He'll be fine."

"I'll switch with him for the rest of the way."

"You don't have to."

"It's fine. He can probably entertain Blue better than I can."

Everyone uses the small break to eat a little lunch. You already had some of the beans Ghost packed, so you feel uncertain whether you should eat anymore of his food. You haven't even discussed sharing. Rather, you ration the jerky you made and save the rest. 

It is a small meal, so you eat it slowly to trick your stomach into feeling full. Just before getting back to the truck, you spot a tree by the entrance to Kettering Kastle. Hickory. Paul told you once they make for great arrows, a softer hardwood. Pliable yet strong. This excites you. Your sheath is only half-full, so you grab your serrated knife and cut a few midsized branches to take with you.

Sitting in the truck bed is far from pleasant. The tail wind makes it hard to breathe, and you have to grab the side of the truck to keep yourself from flying out. Kyle notices your struggle and seems amused, but reaches an arm over in offering. You hold onto him and it does some to keep you stable. 

The motorway passes through Kettering, which is a smaller city. The smell is retched, though the only Greys you spot don't take notice to you, trapped between buildings and toppled telephone poles. You make out a sign that reads A14 and figure it is headed to Cambridge. If you continue this pace, you'll reach the coastline by sundown.

Of course, things don't work out that way. The road becomes more obstructed with abandoned vehicles. Ghost has to weave through them like a maze, wasting time and fuel. The sun crawls higher in the sky. Finally, there are a few kilometers of straight road. Speed ticks up only to come to an abrupt halt when he reaches an underpass. You let go of Kyle and stand up to see what has caused the stop—a semi truck completely blocks the way through it.

"Jesus," you mutter.

Consecutive slams of the fronts doors indicate Price and Ghost are checking it out. Kyle hops out with them. After a few minutes, he returns and explains with a sigh, "We'll have to backtrack and find a side street that will lead to another motorway ramp."

"That's going to eat time. The sun will set soon."

He offers his arm again as Ghost begins reversing. "I know. It's fine, we'll just get to the water tomorrow. No rush, yeah?"

It adds an extra hour and a half. The sky turns a remarkable orange that would've had you gawking if not for your irritation of having to stop again. Ghost pulls over just before it gets too dark to set up the tents in a small market town called Haverhill. There's hardly anything here except fields of bright, yellow flowers and little shops with slanted CLOSED signs. It is actually pleasant and well-preserved, until you catch the distinguishable shape of a corpse hanging from one of the telephone poles, a black trash bag over its head.

"Don't look at it."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," you dismiss under your breath. 

A more forested patch of land at the edge of the town is where you make camp for the night.

They eat canned goods and you finish your last pieces of jerky. This means you'll have to find more food for yourself tomorrow, or ask Ghost for some. The thought makes you anxious. The last thing you want is to seem like an extra burden. Dead weight that they'd be better off leaving behind. But he also didn't comment when you ate the beans. The uncertainty of where you stand means you need to make yourself useful.

The men need rest, so you offer to keep watch.

Prices dismisses you. "You don't have to, Twix. The three of us can take turns."

"No, really. I'll keep watch and you guys can all get more sleep. I've just been sitting in a car all day, anyway."

He gives in, visibly fatigued after being up over twenty-four hours.

Ghost and Price sleep first.

That leaves you sitting with Kyle when the stars begin to flicker like bright, little heartbeats against the black night.

You pull out your smoother knife—the one you found back at that base—to carve the sticks you found, careful of your bandaged thumb. 

Kyle lays his rifle across his lap. "First time I am seeing you smile today and it's while carving sticks." 

"Arrows," you correct, holding one up and tapping your index lightly against the sharpened point. "And it's good wood. Hickory."

"You're an easy woman to please," he teases.

"My tastes have changed over the years."

"Really? I can't imagine you as one of those people who cared too much about nice things."

You flash him a raised brow. "Are you saying I was cheap?"

He nudges your knee. "Not what I'm saying. You just seem like someone who would prefer a little movie date over a fancy dinner."

"I liked sushi. Is that fancy?"

He hums. "There were some good cheap sushi spots in London—hole in the wall type places. When there was some kid doing their homework at one of the booths, that's when you knew it'd be good shit."

"You're making me hungry."

"Well, you should've eaten more." He looks at you knowingly. "You're scared to ask anyone for food, aren't you?"

Are you really that easy to read? You place the half-finish arrow across your knees and look at the ground, brushing your fingers absentmindedly through the soft grass. "I just—I am aware of my place here."

"Your place?"

Your hands tightens the grass into a fistful. "I am at the bottom."

"The bottom," he repeats slowly, and his voice lowers. "You really think that?"

You rip the grass and sprinkle it over your boot, glancing up at him. His eyes have darkened, or maybe they are simply mirroring the sky. "I am not complaining. I understand that everyone here has others who they would prefer to keep alive over me, that's all. I just don't want to stick out anymore than I already do."

He reels in your words. "You're forgetting that everyone here has their own perspective, their own wants. It is not as simple as you're making it seem." In a change of topic, he reaches for the arrow on your lap. "Here—let me help."

You hand him the knife and he begins carving expertly as a few minutes of silence ensue. You are lost in your thoughts, keeping your eyes on the surroundings, when he suddenly stops in his handiwork, holding up the knife. You watch him study the leather handle carefully, shake his head to himself, then look at you.

"Where did you get this?"

"Huh? Oh—I found it. At a military base actually."

Your answer seems to strike him, and he releases a disbelieving exhale. "The one near Manchester?"

You nod. 

"It was my brother's."

What?

Reading your expression, he shows you the handle and rubs his thumb over a small etching at the bottom that you can barely make out in the moonlight: PG.

"Patrick Garrick," he explains in a murmur, and your chest tightens. "I didn't even notice it at first. It's been years since I had it. The last time...the last time was when shit happened, and I lent it to a friend of mine at the base."

"Who?"

"Soap," he says, a memory taking over his expression as he rubs his jaw. "He was the other member of our spec ops unit."

"You... Someone mentioned him before. Ghost—he asked you guys about him when you arrived. You don't know what happened to him, right?"

Kyles nods. "He stayed back at the base to keep helping even when Price and I jumped ship. That was the Scottish in him—stubborn as hell. Soap was just his codename, of course. Like mine was Gaz." He looks up at you with a faint dimple. "And yours is Twix, huh?"

"I guess." You press your tongue to your teeth and grab the knife, frowning at it as you try to recall exactly where you grabbed it from. "What was his real name, then?"

"John MacTavish."

"I think—I think your friend is dead. I'm sorry." You gaze at him. "I remember now. I found it in one of the rooms, and there was a skeleton with that name. He... he had it quick, though."

The expression on his typically warm eyes turns unreadable and his shoulders stiffen in the slightest. You wonder if you should have bothered sharing this, but then he shrugs it off with a sigh. "It's okay. Figured as much. Many people have died. He's just another name to the list."

Instinct draws your hand to his shoulder, and the muscles softens beneath your touch. "I'm still sorry."

His eyes find yours. 

He smiles solemnly.

Then, somewhere in it all, he leans over and closes the gap. The sudden, foreign feel of lips pressed against your own stuns you. His lips move gently, cold and soft against yours, and only when he threads a hand through your hair to pull you closer do you fully register what he is doing. Your eyes fly open and you break away, leaping to your feet.

"Why did you—what was that?"

He stands up with you. "It felt right in the moment."

He tries to touch your shoulder but you flinch away. "I'm sorry. I just—I was just trying to comfort you."

"I misread the moment." His eyes are clouded. "So you didn't want it?"

Did you? Your mind feels fuzzy. "I don't know. I need to...I want to be alone right now."

You grab your knife and sticks, rushing around the tents to find solace by the truck, needing to process what just happened. As you move, you bump into a hard chest—Ghost. Somehow you failed to hear the jagged teeth of the tent's zipper. Avoiding his gaze, you try to slip past, but he grips your elbow, holding you in place.

"What is it?"

The lie wedges out of your lips. "Nothing. I just—thought I saw something so I am going to sit over there and keep an eye out."

The difference in height leads to his stare burning into your scalp. "What did you see?" 

"I don't know. Something. Maybe just an animal."

His hold doesn't soften. Stoicism forces itself on your face as you press your lips into a line.

You're easy to ready.

He finally lets go. "I'll take over now. You can sleep."

You find yourself nodding soundlessly, internally glad to be relieved of this duty. 

Sleep offers peace of mind, at least until morning. 

Dawn breaks over the small town in a quiet clatter of spoons against cans and the shuffling of bags being packed up. The dream you wake up from was one of an old life—the last kiss you experienced. But it fizzles quickly from the recesses of your brain the moment your lids shutter open. 

Both you and Kyle seem keen on acting as though nothing happened. More than anything, you are confused. You try to search inside that box of yours for how you feel, but all you find is fear. You've barely been able to keep up with the fear. You busy yourself with helping get everything back in the truck, fitting the supplies like a jigsaw puzzle. You have nothing to eat. A day or two without food is doable until you can properly hunt for something—

"Here."

It is Nereida who catches you by the truck before leaving. She practically shoves a can of tuna into your hands and you look up at her in hesitant gratitude.

"We're all sharing food," she says. "That is how it should be."

"Thank you. Really, this is—"

"Don't thank me. There is plenty for everyone."

For now, your mind chides, but you swallow the thought while scarfing down the meal you pretend is London's finest sushi. 

Once everyone is ready, you head to the back of the truck, expecting an awkward encounter with Kyle, only to find Ghost sitting there beside the kayak, hands relaxed behind his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Needed a break from driving."

You glance at the front to see that Price is behind the wheel, and Kyle is in the passenger side. In a way, you're relieved. You breathe through your nose and hoist yourself up. The bumpy ride is quiet at first. His body takes up space so that each pothole nudges your shoulder or knee against his. The morning ages. You swear you can see there coast at one point, but it must be your imagination, because the passing sign reads Halstead. 

"You really need to work on lying better."

The brash accent registers low against the hum of the engine, and his eyes are closed when you look over. He is leaned back, one leg straight and one bent, seeming to enjoy the seat more than you are. 

"Fine. I'm bad at lying."

"Care to share the truth, then?"

He needn't elaborate for you to know what he is referring to. "I was...I was upset because I found out my knife—the one I took from the base—belonged to Kyle's brother."

His brow ticks.

You continue, "But he actually gave it to Soap, and I—I found his dog tag on a skeleton. John MacTavish. You were friends with him, weren't you?"

His eyes open, but they are too murky to decipher from just his profile. His jaw flexes. "I wasn't a man with friends, Twix."

"You know what I mean."

There is a pause, and then, "He was a sergeant under my command. A good man. Grating, at times. But good."

"Well, I'm sorry he didn't make it. If you of all people say he was a good guy, then he really must've been."

He hums in agreement. Thoughtful. Then—two gloved fingers touch your jaw, turning your eyes to his. "You are still lying, and still bad at it."

You wet your lips. "I wasn't—"

"Help!"

Ghost drops your chin and grabs the gun from his waist.

Your eyes flash around at the sound of a second plea. There is a man at the side of the road, leg draped in bloodied bandages, but there isn't a chance for you to register more of him when the truck takes a sudden, sharp left down a side street and you brace yourself by grabbing the edge with both arms. The small city-scape whirls by in a blur. Ghost swears under his breath, scanning the area as he bends on one knee and keeps the gun secure in his grip. Confused, you grab his arm.

"That man was injured."

His voice is harsh and alert. "He has fucking friends somewhere here. He was just trying to—"

A shattering sound. An audible pop. You're thrown against the truck bed even harder this time as it skids across the street, nearly slamming into a flipped-over car. Ghost covers you, the weight of him keeping you from flying out. The truck swerves to a halt. Everything is black until his weight lifts. He barks an order, jumps out, and pulls you with him.

Pressed against the side of the truck, the world becomes consumed by loud sounds and the distinct smell of gunpowder. Ghost rips open the passenger door and urgently pulls Blue, Ari, and Nereida out, ordering them to keep low. From the other side, you hear Price and Kyle shouting, followed by another series of gunshots.

[n0tamused]

Jiyaaaan request coming your way~

While training his soldiers, one of them accidentally calls him 'Dad'. This leads to the reader teasing them but Jiyan teases back by calling them 'Mom' (or the gender neutral for it?)

(Was reading tv tropes and Jiyan had the 'A Father to his Men' tropes in his character tab lol)

A/n: Anon this request was so sweet, thank you sm for sending it in! Jiyan the father of an army fr.. I do hope I executed it well. Enjoy!

Content: Jiyan x F!Reader, fluff and playful stuff, nothing more

The morning sun had long since shifted its axis towards the center of the sky, blazing down through cotton clouds that sailed the azure skies. Below them, in the open fields, west of the main base cacophony sounded, consisting of commands, groans and other sounds of effort as the Midnight Ranger performed their training. And today Jiyan had come to overlook the session himself, although it wouldn’t be the first time. He was often so preoccupied with tasks at the front lines that he didn’t have the time to be leading drills too frequently, but when he did get the chance to do so he would take it. While it wasn’t a full reprieve from the battle, it was still a stark contrast to the grotesque and twisted fates he’d see daily on the battlefield.

Jiyan was noticeably more disheveled by the end, hair messy and hanging in strands and clinging to his sweaty forehead, hands on his hips as his voice rose to meet all ears present. You have just been passing by, helping carry supplies that just came in, and loading old and empty boxes back to be refilled in the city. For once there was no rush that would make your legs ache or your lungs hurt, allowing you all the precious time to bask in the views, the soft chatter and, of course, your dear lover.

The sun caught his figure and formed a golden aura around him, his skin glistening, and you couldn’t help but take a seat at one of many big boxes at the side of the training grounds after you had finished your task. In passing you caught a few looks, and a few smiles of the soldiers you knew from before. They looked much  more lively, despite the rigorous training they just went through. It made your heart warm seeing them in better spirits, wishing nothing more than to see them prevail and be happy. And just as you had recognized a bunch of familiar faces did Jiyan conclude his small speech, about to dismiss everyone with advice of rest hanging on every word. He had spotted you from the start, when you were going by with supplies in arms and soon he’d have a chance to speak to you too, he thought.

“General Jiyan! General Jiyan, a word or two- if I may?” 

It was a voice of one of the new recruits, Jiyan noted as he gazed at the face of the youth, a boy of twenty or so years by the looks of it, and eyes full of curiosity and admiration. He had come up to Jiyan just as he had turned towards you, prompting him to stay rooted in his spot a little longer. A few more young rangers came up behind the recruit, sharing the same curiosity but also being aware of whatever the recruit had on his mind.

“Yes? Is there something you need?” Jiyan questioned, looking at the young man. From his peripheral vision he spotted you moving down from the boxes and joining his side, staying quiet after a short word of greeting towards his Rangers, but your presence felt like a cool breeze under this sun, and he appreciated it all the more.

“I just wanted to say how great today’s training session was, we learned so much more than we did with our drill sergeant” he praised, smiling up at Jiyan all the while, “And I just wanted to ask whether or not you’ll be leading our training session tomorrow as well? Or any other day that is, we would really benefit from your teaching. I mean, you've seen it all for yourself at the front lines!"

The other few with him nodded along, prompting a small smile of pride to form on your face from seeing their fascination with Jiyan. To them he was everything they aspired to be - strong, enduring, tough but not lacking kindness or knowledge. There were times where they were scared to approach him, not knowing how he’d react to their questions, but from observing his interactions with others they warmed up to the idea and plucked all their courage. 

A polite smile curled up on Jiyan’s face as he regarded the youth with gentle golden eyes. His presence as the drill sergeant today wasn’t due to his availability, but a simple coincidence and necessity to fill the shoes of their drill sergeant that had been injured due to Tacet Discords, and Jiyan just happened to be able to be there. “Ah, you have my thanks, rangers. If a replacement for your drill sergeant does not arrive tomorrow and I am not required to be at the front lines, then I will be leading your training tomorrow as well” he told them, which pleased them greatly to hear.  “Although I’m sure Sargent Jin’xi has much more to teach you, something much more important for your sound development in this profession. You cannot take his method lightly. He has seen everything I have, as well. His knowledge is as valuable to your growth, and even more so than mine. You need the good foundation he can give you” He was aware of how confusing or hard it could be to listen to Jin’xi, as the sergeant had quite the eye for details and slow progress in lessons due to his meticulous nature - but that also made him all the better for his station. He was observant and could pluck out bad behavior and mistakes like weeds, and that is better to be done here, than in the middle of battle.

“We know, general, but sergeant Jin’xi is just so hard on us.. sometimes it really seems like he has no limit” one of the women standing behind voiced, earning a look from Jiyan that spoke of his understanding but also his disagreement with the subtle message they were trying to send - please, replace sergeant Jin’xi, or, save us.

“Yeah! One time I accidentally mixed up the weapons in the storage room and he had me do everything on my own again, saying how such mistakes can’t happen on the front lines, how it all means life or death” the first young man said, brushing his fingers through his hair and sighing. “I understand it, but we just got here..” he added and looked at his comrades. 

What was supposed to be a short chit-chat turned swiftly into a gossip galore about Jin’xi. Had Jiyan been any different from the man he was currently, he would’ve scolded them, taken offense at how they spoke about his colleague, but he was in their shoes once, always on edge around the higher ups, and he wished not to bring that same unease to them. He didn’t fail to remind them to not speak like this in front of everyone, and to respect sergeant Jin’xi when he does eventually return, and they gave him their word.

The first young man that approached looked at Jiyan after their discussion, both hands on his hips and looking more relaxed. “We won’t forget that, I promise on my last name! Still, we appreciate your kindness, and one more thing dad- I MEAN- GENERAL!” His entire face crumbled into a look of terror, and all eyes of the group shot to him, looks of surprise and amusement appearing before several of them erupted into laughter after taking a wary glance at Jiyan - who was not offended.

“General Jiyan! Oh god- I apologize, general, I don’t know where that came from-” he stammered, shaking his head and his hands, face flushed from sheer embarrassment. More choked words tumbled out of his mouth, desperate to excuse himself and forget about this. 

Jiyan can’t help but chuckle, the corners of his lips twitching in a failed attempt to hold back his smile. “At ease, recruit. You have not done any crime” he nods at the other, his eyes softening and not showing any sign that he’s about to dish out some punishment - that’d be ridiculous. 

You can’t help but crack a laugh too, covering your lips with your hand as to stifle the sound, but your mirth was evident in your eyes. “Have I missed a chapter? I didn’t know you had kids, general Jiyan” you teased, earning a few shocked but heavily amused looks from the group. Giggles erupted once more, all stifled as they waited for Jiyan to respond to the quip.

Jiyan turns his head to look at you, his eyes boring into yours and questioning your intentions - you can read the thoughts going through your head and your smile only widens in a silent call to a challenge of wits. He didn’t expect you to say something like that, but he could only huff, hiding his amusement under an abrupt guise of confusion.

“Kids?.. Why, I had hoped you’d recognize your own kids, Miss (L/N)” he shot back instantly, making your jaw drop at his rebuttal, a gasp flying past your mouth. “General” you said, accusations plenty heard in your tone as the atmosphere melted into one of jest and play.

Many eyes flickered between you and him, taking in the easy way you conversed with one another.

“Yes? What’s the surprise for? The recruits look up to you too, if you fail to notice. You can confirm with them right now” he is shifting the spotlight to you, and the recruits are quick to jump in too. “It is right, miss. Personally I haven’t been around you for long, no longer than I interacted with the General, but you two are alike, you treat us new ones with a firm but kind hand” a young woman said, smiling at you, and you feel your heart climb into your throat. 

“Can we really be surprised, they’re always together too-” "Aren't they married?" Whispering is heard amidst the group, and Jiyan looks amidst the faces to catch the one that said that but fails to do so, or refuses to weed out the individuals, and his eyes go back to you to catch your response. It’d be a lie to say your relationship with him was a secret, everyone knew there was something deeper between the two of you, something you didn’t show in public due to the war and status, but it was undeniably there. Still, hearing it loud and clear like this was like a splash of cold water. Despite their chatter, the group remained respectful, sweet in their musings.

“Ah, quiet, I do not want to hear it. This is about you, General”

“Ah, don’t run from it now. You’re the one that started this” he commented, rolling his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest. “Anyway, you’re all dismissed. I have a word with.. mother over here. Off you all go. I will see you all in the morning for another training drill. Get some rest” he speaks to the group, gazing upon their faces, only to see how they looked at him with some sort of childhood wonder, and that’s when he realized he must be flushed too. A sheepish smile bloomed on his face. 

“Alright! Awesome-” “Yes, sir!"

“Have a good day, General! And you too, Miss!” 

He watched them leave, bidding them all farewell, and when he turned to face you again he saw you pinching the bridge of your nose, hiding away the biggest smile of the day, the apples of your cheeks redder than before. The Midnight Rangers were undeniably close in connection, having spent so many nights and days huddled together for warmth or laughs or protection, and this small exchange only warmed Jiyan’s heart, to witness how positively they felt around him - and you. 

“Didn’t think we’d become parents so soon. Have we gotten that old already?” Jiyan commented, tone softer in a way he only addressed you when you were alone, and there was no one near the training grounds to hear you.

“Oh, shut up, Jiyan-” you playfully snapped, biting your lip as you looked up at him, stifling a giggle. “You are unbelievable!”

“Hm? Did you expect me to stay quiet today or ignore your quips?” he smiled bigger and you have to admire the little dimples in his cheeks as the smile reaches his eyes, making them squint at you softly.

“I don’t know what I expected, but your response was certainly the last thing I expected” you replied and shook your head, as if that would shake off the redness tinting your skin, imitating him now by crossing your arms. The two of you were looking at each other, wordlessly admiring your red faces while throwing these little quips at one another. 

“Ah.. you’ll get used to it, dearest wife”

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[dearru]

₊˚ෆ  thinking about how disgustingly in love you are with your boyfriend, hinata shoyo | wc: 952 | fluff (sfw) | gn!reader x ts!hinata shoyo | mlist

THE BRAZILIAN SUN beats down on your back, beads of sweat dripping down your swimsuit-clad skin. Your bare feet carry you along the familiar sand-lined path of your local beach, and you pay no mind to how they burn under the hot ground. 

When you reach the end of the walkway, you spot your boyfriend, Hinata Shoyo. He’s by the volleyball nets, as always. And you can tell he’s just finished a match from how his chest heaves and eyes blaze with a resolute glow. 

You laugh. He’ll stay out here all night if you don’t steal him away now. 

“Sho!” you call, waving as you jog toward him. 

He looks up, face flushed a brilliant scarlet, and it reminds you of the tomatoes you spent ages slicing for dinner last night. You two had originally planned on going out, you’d even chosen a place, but the thought of that disappeared once Shoyo burst into your shared apartment with tousled hair and hands full of burstingly ripe fruit. 

You smile at the memory. If you focus hard enough, you can still taste the vibrant flavors of the salad you made just for him– the crunchy hearts of palm, the sharp, tangy vinaigrette. You can still feel Shoyo’s nearness, see his lovestruck gaze from across the table, smell his sun-stained hair. 

He made you glad you stayed in. He made your sore fingers worth it. 

“Hey!” he beams, still presumably breathless from playing, “I thought you had work today.” 

“I called out.” 

He hums, mouth making an animated ‘o’ shape. Behind you, you hear a resonant whistle echo across the courts. Another match is starting. Shoyo twitches at the sound. You bite back a laugh. 

There’s something about being around him that makes you incapable of not smiling. It’s like his secret superpower. 

“Got any time for me today?” you ask, cheeks already aching.

You gasp when he swoops you up into his arms, capturing your lips in a warm kiss. The scent of the aloe vera you’d rubbed on his sunburns this morning tickles your nose and sends heat through you. 

His touch is a thousand times hotter than any Brazilian summer. 

He pulls away too soon. The loss of feeling has you aching for more, and you know he can tell from how his head reels back with laughter. 

“I always have time for you,” he grins, his thumb brushing a stray eyelash from your face. 

It’s not long before you two are lying out across the sun-warmed sand, your hands tracing Shoyo’s hair with soft affection as he rests between your plush thighs. You sigh, gazing out to admire the picturesque horizon. The sun lumbers in the distance, slowly casting brilliant orange hues across the sandy landscape. Waves from the endless ocean crash in the background, and you hum in contentment. 

You could stay here forever.  

Eventually, your eyes lead back to Shoyo, who’s stretched out on you like a lazy golden retriever, tucked comfortably in your grasp. You cherish the calm still of this moment, using it to marvel at his handsome features. His azure tank top lines his rigid frame perfectly, revealing all his strong lines and tanned skin. It makes your heart swell. 

You can’t believe he’s yours. 

“Hey,” you murmur, biting back a smile, “I got you something.” 

His ears perk with curiosity, “You did?”

You nod, lips twitching up. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

He doesn’t hesitate. With the enthusiasm of a child waiting for a surprise, he springs up from your lap and spins around to face you. His eyes squeeze shut, body practically buzzing with excitement. 

You go to fish the object out of your bag, and your fingers wrap around a braided leather necklace tucked at the bottom. As you bring it out, you’re suddenly all too aware of how simple the piece is. The cheap beads and thin fabric don’t seem worthy of his infectious glee.

“Uh– it’s not much, but I saw it and thought of you,” you say sheepishly, tenderly pressing the jewelry into his palms. 

He opens his eyes, glancing down at the necklace. For a moment, he pauses. You swallow hard, breath catching.

Then, he laughs. 

“I love it!” he exclaims, surging forward to attack you with kisses. “You always give the best gifts.” 

You bite your cheek, face warming. “It’s just something I got from a street vendor. I’ll get you something better later–”

“No,” he shakes his head, “This is perfect.” 

“I’m glad you like it, Sho,” you smile, relief spreading across your body.

You gesture for him to turn around, and he obeys right away. Your fingers brush the nape of his neck as you clasp the necklace around his skin, your lingering touch soft and gentle. 

“Thanks,” he sighs, still facing the sun but now tilting his head back to look at you. 

He stares at you with a sudden intensity that makes you shiver, eyes boring into yours. It’s filled with a revere that steals your breath away. It’s the same look he gives you before you share a meal together, or when you’re curled under the covers about to turn in for the night. It’s a look he reserves only for you.  

“I love you,” he says, voice low and dripping with sincerity. 

Your chest floods with emotion, so full it hurts. You’re overwhelmed by how much being with Shoyo makes you feel. He always manages to make your heart tug with a powerful ache. His simple devotion and unwavering joy fills you with a thirst for more. He makes you want more. Always. 

But you’ll settle with watching the sunset together for now.

“I love you, too.” 

–a/n: i love you hinata shoyo. happy birthday.

[lavenderfilledcoffin]

azure x reader | sweet jewel

cw: smut—azure fucks you with his tentacle

*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*ೄ·*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*ೄ·

Naturally, being unable to be entirely alone would be enough to drive you insane.

You didn't have the time or privacy to give yourself the release you so desperately needed, it drove you absolutely mad.

You could never ask the other survivors for help, not even out of embarrassment, because you were dating Azure. A killer.

Being a killer... Did he even have genitalia after his… transformation? Then again, those tentacles of his... The mere thought of those thick, slithering appendages inside of you made you shiver.

God, you need to see him.

As soon as you got up from your bed, startling your roommate, Elliot, you were placed into a round.

Already, the distant sounds of screaming echoed throughout the air. Poor soul.

You hid behind a wall and leaned to the side ever so slightly, peeking your head out.

Squinting, you saw a thick black tentacle lunge forward and wrap around someone whose head was obscured—unmistakably Elliot with that bright red uniform.

Elliot was lifted up as if he weighed nothing, and despite your undying love for Azure, it still made you shake with how he tore Elliot's body into two.

Azure...

A familiar heat built up in your body, causing your cheeks and chest to burn. You would have felt disgusted had your thought process not been clouded by arousal, but those tentacles... Fuck, you wanted them deep inside of you.

Against your better judgement, you decided to sit in a corner and hide. Azure would save you for last and let you survive, anyway.

Covering your ears with your palms, you curl up into a tight ball—attempting to drown out the screams of agony from your so called 'friends'.

Then suddenly, it all stopped. Everything went quiet as the breeze was blocked by something. Or, more specifically, someone.

You look up and remove your hands, letting them fall limply at your sides as you look up into the striking eyes of your significant other.

"What's this?" His low, slightly garbled, voice softly asked. He sat down beside you, wrapping a tentacle around your waist while his actual arm wrapped around your shoulder—pulling you close.

"Nothing, honestly." You mumbled, earning yourself a light scoff from Azure.

"If it's really nothing, why are you in the corner like a child in timeout?" His comment made you chuckle, something that made his cold, dead heart flutter in his chest.

"Well, I was waiting for you." You say while titling your head up to the side to look up at him, noticing the small smile on his lips.

"Oh? That's precious, hehe." His hand slip up from your shoulder to gently pet your head as if you were some domestic animal, it felt... nice.

"Actually, um, I wanted to... talk about something."

"What is it?"

"I'm a bit... pent up?" You sighed out of embarrassment, instinctively averting your gaze—your face burning far too hot for your liking.

Azure only chuckled, sliding his hand down to the back of your head. "You should've said something sooner."

One of his tentacles slid from behind him, brushing against your jawline and titling your head to look up at him.

You were about to say something, but it was quickly cut off by Azure leaning in and kissing you.

It wasn't like one of the sweet, gentle kisses you two shared—no—this was something of pure, hungry desire.

His tongue quickly slipped past your lips, brushing against your own as he practically claimed you.

His fingers curled in your hair, tugging just enough for you to feel a tingling sensation—causing you to let out a muffled groan against his lips.

Azure broke the kiss, quickly trailing more across your jaw and neck. “Fuck, Azure, please…”

“Please, what?” He murmured against your neck, his tongue trailing across a particularly sensitive spot that sent shivers down your spine.

“Please, don’t tease me. I can’t wait…” Was all you could muster, to which Azure chuckled against your neck.

He stood up, his tentacles moving to hook under your arms and pull you up—his hands already making quick work of your clothing.

Within the blink of an eye, you were standing nude in front of Azure. The cool air didn’t help one bit, nor did your arousal slowly trickling down your inner thighs.

Azure scooped you up into his arms, his hands holding you up by the back of your thighs while his tentacles emerged from behind him.

“So wet, so… cute.” He lowly whispered, resting his chin atop your head.

One tentacle slithered up and ran along your drooling slit, catching on your clit—making you whine.

Azure gently rubbed small circles onto your thighs, slowly pushing past your entrance.

The burning sensation of being stretched, of finally being filled was enough to almost make you climax right then and there.

Your walls instinctively tightened around his thick tentacle, earning a small hiss from him.

“Sweet jewel…” He groaned, nuzzling his face into your hair—deeply inhaling your scent as his tentacle began moving.

It dragged deliciously inside of you, curling and filling you so full. Tears began to well up in your eyes from how heavenly it felt, even with the slight pain of his girth stretching you open.

Azure’s eyes remained closed as his tentacle fucked into you faster, the obscene sound of your sopping wet cunt being split open mixed with your cries of pleasure filled his ears. “You sound so pretty, fuck…”

His sharp nails dug into your thighs, ceasing the gentle action of his rubbing as he lost himself in you.

In, and out. In, and out. Your mind was fuzzy, drool seeped out of the corner of your lips, and your g-spot was relentlessly rammed into.

Your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, nails digging into the back of his shoulders—your subconscious desperate for closeness while you were fucked stupid—your body pressed tightly against his.

Azure could feel every small flutter of your walls, every twitch of your body, every single heartbeat against his chest.

Fuck, he was going insane.

His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, crushing your body against his own, “Cum.”

That single word growled in that tone drove you right off of the edge.

With a sharp cry, your vision went blank.

Azure’s tentacle kept ramming into you even as your juices gushed out around the sides of the thick appendage, making a lewd squelching sound.

Your entire body shuddered against his while your clit throbbed and your cries escalated.

Only then did he slow down, remaining nestled inside of you as one of his hands gently ran along your back.

“There, there, sweet jewel. I’ve got you.” He murmured, peppering your face and jaw in gentle kisses.

As your body went limp in his arms, Azure smiled, content to hold you close until you eventually woke up.

Azure was utterly in love with you.

*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*ೄ·*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*ೄ·

genuinely wanted to scrap this oh my goooooddd i hate it

[thevanillerose]

REGAL | CIEL x SHY!READER | BLACK BUTLER

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

“I'm nervous...” “Don't be.”

Sebastian smiled at you charmingly, hoping to calm your nerves even by a little. The two of you were standing outside the door that led into Ciel's quarters. This infamous boy, the 'Queen's Watchdog' as they called him.

Believe it or not, you were a marriage candidate for him. It was crazy to even consider, but there was a chance that he would say 'yes' to you, and just like that you'd be married to such an iconic person.

On the flipside, there was also the chance that he might say 'no'. That was always a possibility, unfortunately, and not one that you especially looked forward to.

Nobody wanted to be rejected, did they?

“Any last minute advice?” you looked up at the tall, black haired butler. He simply continued smiling down at you. “Just don't act too rashly, that is what I would advise.”

Don't act too rashly. Okay...that should be simple enough, right?

 Gulping, you readied yourself just as he pushed the door open and let you go inside. You truly had no idea what you were expecting, as he closed the door again and left you standing there in the glass walled conservatory.  

 The place where you had been tasked with meeting the young master Phantomhive was a pleasant one. Delicate rays of sunlight shone in between pastel rose petals, which surrounded a seating area of wooden furniture painted in flawless white. Upon the table there was a rack with an array of pastries, and two cups sat ready and waiting by the teapot.

 Upon the bench, there he sat.

 Ciel wasn't particularly tall, but you were instantly intimidated. Uneasily, you tried to approach with grace nonetheless, and caught his attention as soon as you were close enough to the side of the bench. Ciel slowly turned his head, and simply looked at you.

 “...”  For a brief moment, his eyes almost seemed to widen, and your hopes raised. Yet just as quickly he was wearing that placid mask again, one which didn't tell you even a little of what he was truly feeling. It felt so tense, knowing that you were being silently judged by him, worrying about what you should do or say.

 “...Aren't you going to sit down?” Ciel suddenly prompted, and gestured to the bench opposite from him. In an instant you were flustered, hurrying to take the spot.  “Ah yes! Of course, I apologize...I'm already wasting your time...”  He quirked a brow. First impressions...  ...You were very pretty. That much could certainly be said. You also seemed to be very shy though, to the point where it appeared to be hindering you somewhat, making you excessively anxious when you really didn't need to be.  

 As you sat yourself down, Ciel clasped his hands calmly in his lap and observed you thoughtfully.  “I'll admit that I did not expect you to be so...meekly mannered.”  “That's my fault, I'm afraid.” you admitted, going a little red in the cheeks as you shifted to get more comfortable. “I...I'm a bit of a shy person, you see...”

 “Hmm.”  Ciel pondered that. Well, you did come across that way. Was it necessarily a bad thing? That he wasn't sure of. It didn't actually bother him too much.

 So many of the potential candidates who had been sent to him had been too loud, too arrogant, or too annoying for his tastes. You were different from the lot of them...and though it made for a slightly awkward scenario, he was actually pretty relieved that you were.

 “...[Y/N], that's your name?” he prompted, to which you nodded and looked up into the one azure blue eye that he had to show. The other was shielded by a black patch, partially obscured further by his soft blueish hair. You could certainly see why so many wanted to be his wife. He was like a porcelain doll.

 But this only made you worry more about how worthy you actually were. Could you possibly be a good spouse for someone like him? You didn't know that you could...

 “Yes...that's my name...” you uttered, and Ciel sighed softly before pouring you some tea.  “Well tell me then, [Y/N]. What is it that drew you to me?”  Actually, that was something you could answer.  “Well it wasn't just recommendations from my family that made me decide I'd try my luck. I...I've heard so much about you, I've become so curious. And in person, you're a little...”

 It was just going to all come out now, wasn't it?  “...Stunning.”

…

 Funny how a single word could claim you that chance.

 A few days passed after the meeting before a finely written letter arrived at your parents' mansion, notifying you all of your success as a bridal candidate. Actually realizing that Ciel wanted to be with you...it was a dream come true.

 Of course, you were still nervous about it. Yet the more times you met him, and the more pieces that were put into place for your eventual wedding, the more you started to relax and fill that role.

 It was on your shoulders to put forth a good image, after all. To represent the Phantomhive name as best as you possibly could. This would mean standing tall and graceful before others, proving that you were a worthy wife. You couldn't allow your inherent nervousness to change that. To put it in jeopardy.  

 So...you asked him, one day:  “Ciel I...I would very much like it if you could teach me...”

 “Teach you?”  He turned away from the array of blue and violet roses he had been admiring, and faced you fully. “What are you seeking to learn?”  You clasped your hands before yourself. Over the past few meetings you'd had together, you'd yearned to ask for some sort of guidance. You would have asked Sebastian but he wasn't your butler, and he only seemed to answer to one...

 “...I see. You don't need to say it, I think I already know...” Ciel walked up to you, already smelling like the flowers around this place, “You wish for me to teach you how to be more regal? To be like a true lady of the house?”  “Mm.” you nodded, and looked up at him sheepishly. Call it old fashioned, but that was what you wanted.  “Alright. Sit down with me.”

 He gestured to the very same bench where you had sat together during that first meeting. As you joined him there, Ciel brought over the teapot and fine china cups, one of which he set down before you. He then handed you the teapot.

 “Pour me a cup of tea the right way.”

The 'right way'? What 'right way' is there, exactly?

 That was the question, wasn't it? Regardless, you obliged of course, nodding and proceeding to gently tilt the teapot. Immediately the lid almost fell off, but Ciel's pale hand quickly shot out and grabbed it before it could drop completely.

 “Careful.”  “S-sorry!”  “Why are you so nervous?”  “I-I don't know I just...”

 Your heart was pounding after that. You looked up at him, almost a little tearfully. “-I just worry about...humiliating myself, and then it ends up happening.”  “Perhaps if you stopped overthinking things so much then it wouldn't?” Ciel suggested, and you nodded. You knew he was right.

 “Here, let me demonstrate. You need to hold it by the top too. That way it won't spill out.” he explained, and positioned himself close beside you. As he did so, you only became more red faced. You couldn't help yourself. He only amplified the hindrance that you so typically had to deal with.

 “...Like this.”  If you hadn't already felt like you were blushing enough, he only worsened things as he laid his hands over yours and guided them gently. It was a simple task, pouring a cup of tea, but in this case you needed to learn to do it properly.

 “I think I know how to do it now.” you said, and then Ciel gestured for you to demonstrate. You did so, with poise and grace, and he looked satisfied.

 “That's it. You're doing well.” he noted, but you just looked at him with hesitation.  “I don't know...I feel like I could do so much better...like I'm not good enough...”

 Perhaps it was about time he made it clear to you. Without any reluctance on his own part, Ciel reached up with both hands and softly clasped your face between them. He held you gently, and leaned in closely before he spoke.

 “If you weren't good enough, I would never have chosen you.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

[cannibal-alien]

Azuretime x reader polygamous please! We need more of them frfr

I'm not sure about the specific plots, but maybe when Azure came out as a killer for the first time and they all reunited?

You can choose whether or not reader was also in the cult. But they prooooobably didn't know about the sacrifice? Maybe they might've also almost got sacrificed, but Two time failed and they got Forsaken™ first?

Yeah, that's about it. I think. I forgot to say when I said we need more Azuretime x reader, I meant angst 😈😈 /hj

The relationship is gonna so strained, but the dynamic would be kind of interesting?

Take your time with the requests! Your health and happiness is the first priority!

❤️❤️❤️❤️ /Platonic

HAAAIIII omgosh sorry this took so long!!! and sorry if it’s. not the best!!! i hardly write angsty so thank you for this practice!!! hope u enjoy regardless<3

azure x two time x reader - unspoken confessions

not much really concerns you these days. after numerous weeks(?) of being stuck in a eerily cold & horrific realm, as if you were a lab rat in a cage, putting on a show for some mysterious ‘spectre’, you’ve pretty much gotten used to it.

of course, you still prayed to the Spawn every day, clinging to your faith in rough times like these. and you prayed for your partners, too- wherever they were. if they were even safe. at least they didn’t have to suffer in this place, wherever you were… could be hell, could be purgatory. you weren’t all too sure.

but it didn’t take long for things to shift and you quickly regretted ever feeling hopeful. eventually, two time ended up in the same realm as you, though something about them was off. you noticed it right away, the air of tension, the defensive glint in their eyes. they felt distant, hesitant. when you reached out for a hug, relieved to see one of your partners after convincing yourself you never would again, they flinched.

that’s fine, though. that’s absolutely okay, you told yourself. two time must be incredibly overwhelmed. confused, maybe even scared. after all, there was only one way to end up here, and it wasn’t exactly by natural fate. you didn’t pry, they didn’t want to talk about it. but when you finally mentioned your attacker fleeing and leaving you to bleed out, a small frown flickered across their face. just for a moment, you thought you saw something, some hint of emotion. you couldn’t tell if it was concern… or maybe regret?

so you brought up your second biggest concern, a bit of anxiety settling in. azure. what about azure? was he okay? at the mention of his name, two time slightly stiffened, but their eyes continue to hold that same manic look, tense as if they were holding something back.

you barely got an answer. it hurt. you needed to know. but every time you tried to learn more, two time redirected the discussion back to the Spawn, always circling back to the one thing they were utterly obsessed with. and though you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, praise be to the Spawn, you were starting to grow agitated.

eventually you ended up in a match together, forming a tiny pact to watch each other’s backs. you noticed the spectre had let them keep their dagger, though you didn’t ask why. a weapon’s a weapon, and it’s pretty useful in this case. maybe it didn’t mean anything.

you’ve already repaired a few generators, but the lack of a killer was making you increasingly anxious. where the hell were they? did taph blow them up already? where was all the usual bloodshed? something was off.

“two time? two time?” you call out, presuming they had ditched you. so much for loyalty. you even made a mental note to give them absolute hell for it later, but the sight you walked into stopped you cold.

you initially didn’t want to believe it, but you couldn’t deny it for long. it was azure, but not the one you remembered. they were different- stronger, more intense. scarier. it didn’t take long for it to click. they were the killer.

azure’s eyes look almost regretful, maybe even sad, as their hands tighten around two time’s neck, choking the other cultist on the ground. the sight hit you like a truck and left your head reeling. instinct took over and you lunged forward, trying to pull them apart. everything went all blurry for a moment. azure’s eyes widened when he saw you, filled with a conflicted emotion that didn’t match his actions. it was almost like he wasn’t in control at all.

you did successfully manage to shove them apart. two time weakly crawled away, gasping for air. azure just stood still, shaking, hands twitching.

your eyes drift over to the small wound you left on azure’s cheek while trying to save two time. slowly, he reached up to graze it. every little move was tense.

without a word, azure turned sharply and forced himself to trudge away, footsteps unsteady. you didn’t try calling out to him. he didn’t bother looking back. all you could do was stare at the empty spot where he once stood, his silence louder than any words he could’ve left.

[navybrat817]

Soak in the Tub

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You want to relax in the bathtub with Bucky. He wants to make you feel good.

Word Count: Over 1.9k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, fingering, implied unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, inner monologue, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: My first Bucky Barnes Smut Menu fic of 2024, courtesy of @ellemj, and it belongs to Stud and Smartie, thanks to a sweet nonnie's inspiration. Crossing off roommate and fingering. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Take a bath with me, Stud.”

Bucky sat in his chair with a book in hand as you walked by in your robe. You glanced behind you just in time to see him look up from the page and sweep his gaze over your body. “Was that a request or an order?” He asked, placing the bookmark in-between the pages.

You raised an eyebrow as you turned back toward him. “Let’s call it an order in the form of a request,” you teased, putting a hand on your hip when he pretended to consider it. “Come on. Please?”

It was a quiet afternoon and the two of you had nowhere to be. As much as you didn't want to interrupt his reading, you finished the puzzle you were working on earlier and wanted just a bit of attention. Not much, but some.

And as soon as you finished soaking in the tub, he could go right back to reading.

He chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “And why are you heading toward my bathroom and not yours?”

You loosened the tie on your robe enough to expose some of your skin, your heart pounding against your ribcage when his eyes followed the motion. You both knew he was going to join you. “Because your bathroom has the bigger tub,” you reminded him. It was only fair that he got the luxurious bathtub since the apartment was his long before you moved in. “And we both know you love the oil I use.”

“That’s our little secret, Smartie.” Bucky set the book aside and pushed himself to his feet. It was your turn to stare as he stretched, the bottom of his shirt riding up to expose the top of his underwear and just enough of his chiseled abs that your brain began to shut down and reboot. “Should I take my shirt off for you so you can see more of me?”

Fucking duh.

You blinked rapidly and felt your cheeks heat up when he smirked, but you refused to feel shame that he caught you staring. You had every right to look at the gorgeous specimen that was your roommate and lover. Considering he looked at you as if he could swallow you whole at any given moment, it was only fair to return the favor.

“I want you to take everything off. I’ll start,” you said, taking a breath before you pushed the robe from your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

As it pooled at your feet, you saw nothing but love and desire in his azure eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered, your confidence soaring when you heard his metal fingers curl.

You fought the urge to grip his long hair and drag him in for a deep kiss. If you did, you wouldn't make it to the bathtub and you really wanted a soak. “You can join me when you pick your jaw up off the floor,” you smiled, turning and walking away with a sway of your hips.

You exhaled when you got to his bathroom, your legs a little wobbly and an ache growing between your legs. It wouldn't be long until Bucky joined you, so you went right to the tub and turned the water on. You tested it with your fingers before you added the oil, inhaling the scent with a hum.

“Took me a minute to pick my jaw up,” Bucky said from behind you as you straightened up and spun around. “You're just too beautiful.”

You somehow managed not to preen from his compliment or collapse when you stared his muscular chest and abdomen, his clothes long gone. You took an extra second to admire the naked man in front of you. He heard from you more than once that he had the body of a god, one to worship and die for. His thick cock only made your knees weaken more as you glanced down.

Fuck, I want it in my pussy. In my mouth. Just give it to me.

But beneath the gorgeous package, Bucky was stunning because he was the best man you knew. No one affected you the way he did. You suspected no matter how long you were together that it would always be that way.

“So, you had me slack jawed and now I render you speechless,” he winked, brushing his body against yours as he moved close to the tub. “We’re quite the pair.”

“Yeah, we are,” you smiled, your heart swelling before he turned and gave you a chance to check out his backside.

Would he fault me if I bit one of his cheeks?

Bucky stepped into the tub with a sigh and slowly sank down, nodding for you to join him as he spread his massive thighs. You let out a moan of appreciation as you got in and sat down between his legs. As large as he was, there was enough space that the two of you could relax together.

Whatever home the two of you eventually moved into or had built would have to have a nice soaker tub.

“We really are quite the pair,” he told you, bringing another smile to your face. “I’m keeping you forever.”

And ever.

“I’m keeping you, too.”

As he wrapped his arms around you to pull you back against him, you were happy to sit there in comfortable silence. You cherished the conversations you had, but also adored the moments like this when you said nothing at all. Where you could just hold each other and feel secure and connected.

That's love.

Bucky used his foot to turn the water once it was high enough and put some soap in the nearby washcloth, drawing a gasp from you when he brought it to your inner thigh.

“You do know I can wash myself,” you teased, but didn't stop him from moving it along your leg.

“I know you can,” he said, your stomach flipping as his hand moved higher. It was a completely innocent gesture, but he could make anything sinful. “But I like doing these kinds of things for you.”

The unwavering sincerity in his tone made your heart melt. “Thank you.”

He switched to your other leg as your body relaxed more, your thighs parting without him needing to ask. Your body was completely in tune with him. And it was nice to have someone who wanted to take care of you.

“So, was there any particular reason why you wanted to have a bath together?” He asked against your skin, his hot breath making you shiver and tilt your head slightly.

“Just wanted you to relax with me,” you replied, a whimper slipping out as his lips moved delicately along your neck. Your eyes fluttered, thankful that you were sitting since you felt weak in the knees.

Bucky made a sound like he didn't quite believe you. “Maybe you did, but I also think you wanted me in here so I could see you naked,” he said, dropping the washcloth into the water before his hand moved up your trembling thigh again. He placed a soft kiss beneath your ear when he added in a low voice, “And feel how wet you are.”

Your breath caught as you looked between your legs in time to see his large hand cup your mound. You jutted your hips up in the hope to get some friction and he took mercy on you by brushing a finger along your folds. “I’m always wet for you, Bucky,” you whispered, gasping when he teased your entrance. “Feel me.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder with a groan when he pushed a thick finger inside, his palm pressing against your clit. “I feel you,” he rasped when he slid another finger in. “Do you know how good it makes me feel knowing how much you want me?” He asked, brushing his metal hand over your breasts, taking a moment to tease your hardened nipples and send a ripple of pleasure through you. “Feels so fucking good.”

The fact that he can get that hand wet and still… Oh, fuck. Right there.

“How could I not want you? I want you so badly,” you moaned, the water splashing around you gently when you bucked your hips. “I want your big, fat cock inside me. Please,” you begged, surprising you with how easily the dirty words tumbled out.

“Jesus fuck. You're killing me,” he grunted, his fingers thrusting and lightly curling inside of your soaked pussy as his other hand slid to your neck. “Telling me you need to relax when you need me to fuck you.”

Both. I need both things.

You whined when you felt his cock press against the curve of your ass. “Please. Fuck me, fuck me,” you chanted, your walls tightening around the thick digits as they pushed in deeper.

He nearly growled when he gripped your chin and turned your head toward his, devouring your mouth. You encouraged him to deepen the kiss as you parted your lips and let him slip his tongue inside. The taste of him was intoxicating. You wanted to get drunk on him.

“Come on my fingers first,” he whispered against your lips when he pulled away. You were unable to keep from whimpering when he circled his palm against your clit, heat radiating from your core. “Come on, pretty girl. Show me how badly you want my cock.”

You reached back to grip his hair when your orgasm hit you hard and fast, your other hand holding his arm as your cries bounced off the walls. His fingers stretched and rubbed you through it, your toes curling and eyes slipping shut. His lips touched your temple when your legs shook, swept away by his desire.

“That’s it. Get my fingers wet. So fucking beautiful,” he praised before you turned your head again and sought out his lips, your heart racing as you came down. His fingers didn't stop until you whined into his mouth, your breathing heavy when your head fell back.

“Did I…” you smiled with hazy eyes as he carefully slipped his fingers out of your quivering hole. “Earn your cock?”

Bucky chuckled as he helped you sit up, his hands gently caressing your arms like he just had to touch you. “More than earned it. And we can relax some more after I finish inside you.”

You trembled all over again. “Even if we get water all over the floor?” You asked, letting him turn you to face him.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours and a swirl of emotions hit you as you held his face in your hands. He made you comfortable and so at ease with yourself. He was your friend as much as he was your lover. He also made you feel desired.

Most importantly, he made you feel loved.

“We can flood the whole fucking apartment for all I care,” he smiled, stealing the breath from your lungs when he pulled you in for a kiss.

The water was cold by the time Bucky was done with you, which gave him all the more reason to hold you after he helped dry you off. He even put your head in his lap so he could keep you close as he finished reading the recent chapter of his book. Alpine and Soot came out to keep you company, too. It was the perfect afternoon.

All thanks to Stud and his deluxe bathtub.

Oh, these two. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[madamechrissy]

♡ Time after Time ♡

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ CEO! Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Fingering, thigh riding, cumming dirty talk, nudity, Gojo less of a dick finally lol

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 5k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ Gojo Satoru is your boss And you've been his head assistant for over two years now. You do everything for him, including and not limited to cleaning his messes, picking out his clothes, and writing his speeches. Sixteen hour days... night calls... You are tired of being overworked and at his beck and call. You decide you are going to put in your two weeks notice. He is shocked, and wants to try to keep you, because you're the best. But you know better. Right? . You really wanna fucking quit. You also wanna fuck him. Also, fuck him.

Chapter 3 - Masterlist- Playlist

Chapter 4

As the first rays of dawn gently illuminate the little cabin, you stir from sleep. Your body is enveloped in a warm, hard embrace, and you feel so safe. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you are met with the sight of Gojo next to you. Peaceful, almost innocent looking, nothing like the devious little shit you usually saw. You sigh, and have to admit to yourself he’s just gorgeous.

His silver hair cascading over his forehead, sculpted features relaxed, full lips ever so parted. A surge of warmth and desire courses through you as you realize the full extent of your situation. You are trapped beneath his weight, his strong arms holding you securely in place. You try to wriggle free, but his grip is strong, he’s super heavy for as slender as he looks.

Giving up, you start to enjoy the embrace, enjoy looking at him like this. Literally perfection just sleeping against you. You start to understand the numerous girls in his bed, you couldn’t blame them at all. You brush some of his silky hair back, sighing and studying the man you’d been all too eager to run away from just the other day. Now, something was different.

But was it different?

Or was Gojo that attractive that he just fucked your head up?

You’d had to work yesterday after all. But… was it so bad? You start to think of his words in the Limo. Would you have a life, friends, a boyfriend… you have to wonder if you just lived to work. And Gojo used it to his advantage. Had you not been so eager to do everything, after all, he may have not taken such an advantage. You always wanted to be the best and you were.

But you were exhausted, and that wasn’t going away. Though, you had to admit, the sleep you just got was absolutely amazing. Gojo indeed was the best cuddler… there was no doubt about it. Though you had nothing to go off, you certainly knew it was top tier. The way he held you… did things. Gojo did things. Things you had put aside, to focus, to be professional.

Your fingers trace down his jaw, sharp, refined, relaxed just so. His breathing is steady against you as his arms tighten. You resist the urge to kiss him, straddle him, do things you should not want. Instead, you kiss his forehead, sweetly, thinking he looked like he needed one then.

What was he doing to you?

His hands gripped your shoulders, then, and you froze, realizing he had woken up. You peek down, removing your lips, and there is a playful glimmer in the azure depths of his gaze, a little smirk on the mouth that had been relaxed before. You feel yourself flush in embarrassment, looking down.

“Taking advantage of me as I sleep? Hmm maybe that’s your kink. Somnophilia.” Gojo taps your lips with a low chuckle, yanking you on top of him. Your hands are on his strong, bare chest, and his leg is between your thighs.

“I was not doing anything pervy! God!” You wiggle a bit, trying to get out of the strong embrace, but he just yanks you closer against him. Your sensitive aching pussy against his thigh felt far too good. You bite your lip against the sensation, and he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I am just teasing you. That was actually pretty cute.” He kisses your forehead, then, and you sigh a bit. “Don’t think I’ve done that. Weird.”

“Kissed a forehead?” You ask incredulously. He shrugs, contemplative look on his face.

“Not that I can think of. I’ve kissed damn near every part of a woman, but I don’t think that one has come into play.”

“You just looked… peaceful and cute. Unlike now, looking like a devious bastard again.” You glare, and he chuckles.

“I’m cute hmm? Not words I think describe me. Handsome, gorgeous, sexy… all those.”

“You’re cute when you sleep. When you aren’t running that mouth of yours.”

“Same.” You two looked at each other then. “You snore, though.”

“Do not!”

“Do too.”

“Lies.”

“How do you even know? You literally can’t tell. You’re asleep, silly.” You sigh, grinning.

“You have a point. You don’t snore.”

“I know, I’m perfect. We can’t all be, baby girl.” Gojo pats your head, brushing your cascading hair back with a grin.

“You’re a perfect looking asshole.”

“But I am perfect looking?” He gives you a wink.

“Ugh.” You lean up a bit. “What was that shit you were talking about, somno what now?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child.” He tuts his mouth, damn devious features back once more. “It’s when your kink is sleeping people.”

Your eyes open wide. “Like you want them to stay asleep? And… like fuck them?”

“Mmhmm. It’s a thing.”

“You know all these kinks hmm?”

“It comes with experience.” Gojo’s hands trail down your bare arms, making goosebumps follow in their path. You tremble.

“Are you into that?” You ask, curious about this man that you should really know more about. He shakes his head.

“It’s not my thing, no. But I’ve done it on request. Just didn’t care for it too much. I really enjoy every. Little. Movement.” He watches you tremble as his lips near yours. “Every. Sound.” He kissed you in between the words, and you moan softly into his lips. “And especially the look on your face.”

“My face?” Your brows furrow in confusion, as your lips part in desire. Gojo grins at you, hands on your hips now, pressing you down. You grow embarrassed, knowing that you’re hot and wet against his thigh. “Not their faces?”

“Your face is very pretty. Even when you scowl like a bitch.” You huff at that, but he lifts his leg, and you gasp, every instinct in you telling you to grind on him. But you couldn’t act that feral… “But so pretty when you want me. And, you do want me, you need to stop lying.”

“I… fuck it. It doesn’t… change that I…”

“That you want to quit. I know. Shut it on that and tell me what you feel.” He consumes your mouth, tongue swirling, his teeth nipping, and fuck if he didn’t taste good even waking up. Smelled good. Felt good. Desire starts shooting through your body, down your tummy, between your thighs. He pulls back. “How do you feel right now? Use your words.”

You take a shaky breath, blinking rapidly, disoriented from him. “I feel so overwhelmed. It’s like I need something. And I don’t know what. I’m not experienced like you I don’t really-”

“Not so many words.” He kissed you again. “You want me. Say that.”

“Unh.” He moves against you, and that’s the only sound your brain could fathom. Gojo looks amused.

“Say it. You’re even soaking my sweats.” His hands gently slide down your back, landing on your backside, squeezing as he pressed up again, sensations making your pussy pulse, feeling it start to get hot and sticky against the shorts you wore.

“What does it change, Satoru?”

“It doesn’t have to change shit. Just say it. Say it and I’ll give it to you.”

“Thought I had to beg.” You mumble, starting to rub against him, crying out as his hands gripped your ass hard, letting you ride his thigh, his own heart in his chest pounding against you.

“You will beg.” He flipped on top of you, then, lips overtaking you, making you heady, your hands sliding up into his hair, pulling. He moaned into your lips. “Say you want me. No. Say you need me.”

“Fuck you.” You arch your back as his hand yanks off your shirt, baring your breasts to him. His eyes hit them like a hawk.

He played with your nipple, swirling his finger around it, studying your every expression. “Don’t you want to stop hurting, brat?”

“Yes.” You had tears prick your eyes when his big hand goes down your trembling tummy, finding your clit like an expert, throbbing against his hand. Your hips buck up as pleasure shoots through your body.

“Then ask me. Ask me to get your little pussy off.” Gojo slides a finger down, to your entrance, just a tip in, and at that you cry out so loud it was embarrassing. Gojo’s brows raise up, an arm braced on one side of you, his hair falling. “Very, very little pussy.”

You blush, your chest heaving, then. “Satoru, please.”

“Please what? Want me to stretch her?” He hissed the words, and you nodded fervently. “Say it, then.”

“Please get me off. Please.” You had no shame anymore, as your nails dig into his arm, urging him on, wishing he’d slip more inside of you. Gojo stayed there, smirking at you. “Oh God, I said please, jerk!”

“Say you want me to stretch her out.” He slid a little more in, and you wanted more, so much more.

“Stretch me out, Gojo. I want you to.” You yank him down, kissing him, slippery and wet when his finger hits all the way inside, long, filling you, stretching you. You’re blinded when he moves his finger up, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. Your back arches, and he studies you.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He groans, arching his elbow a certain way and striking even deeper, you started to wriggle under him, so wet it was embarrassing, pussy pulsing around his finger that moved up and down. “Can you even take two, little brat?”

“I don’t even know. Yes? Try it. Fuck.” You feel him chuckle against your lips, and he leans back, yanking your shorts down fully, and you’re naked in front of him, bare, blue eyes raking the sight in. His soft lips kiss your waist, and he takes his finger out, probing in with two fingertips, stretching and pulling your delicate skin. He bit you right by your rib, pressing further.

“You’re so fucking small.” One hand cupped your breast while the other pushed in further, just to the first knuckle, arching his fingers up and down, hurting slightly.

They continued, every so often pressing further, using the wetness, pulling it out and swirling it, before sliding in deep finally. You buck up off the bed as he fills you, the pressure rough to handle, your body torn between thinking it was too much and wanting even more of him.

“You okay, baby girl?” He asked softly, pausing his fingers movement, brows knitted together. You nod. Gojo made you feel so much then, starting to fuck you with both of his fingers, so thick and deep, stretching you, pushing you to your limits, all while he watched you with his gorgeous fucking eyes.

God you wanted him.

You felt pressure start to build, body on fire for his touch, hitting so hard, spots you’d never known were even fucking there, and he played you so well, like you were an instrument he’d mastered. He leaned up, then, his other hand finding your clit, and that was too much. You started to feel your breath quicken, your hands clutching the crisp sheets beneath you, your entire body shaking.

“You’re doing such a good job. Taking them so well. So wet for me.” Gojo purred the words at you, and you’d have done anything for it then, for his touch, for his words. “Do you want to come on my fingers, baby?”

“Yes. Yes please, Satoru please.” You panted the words, and he dug in deep, finding that spot in you, making everything go black as the pleasure built and built till you couldn’t take any more.

“Then come.”

Nothing could stop you anyway. Your scream rings out and echoes in the tiny room, you cover your own mouth as pleasure flows, riding your climax, biting your hand, but nothing muffled your cries. Everything went black with stars, pussy throbbing around his fingers, your wetness seeping out, making them fuck you easier. Gojo came back into focus, an expression you hadn't seen, studying you, watching you fall apart.

“Fucking beautiful when you come.” He whispered, easing his fingers out, glistening with your juices, sucking them and closing his eyes.

“Holy Fuck.” Your chest heaved and your legs twitched embarrassingly, after shocks hitting watching him. He kissed you, then, and you tasted your desire, tongues swirling, panting into his mouth.

“You taste so good.” Gojo whispered the words, you flushed. “Has anyone eaten you out?” 

You shake your head. “The only… things I've done is like getting fingered then they just kinda did it. And then it sucked. So I kinda just never tried again.”

“No one has eaten this pretty pussy, hmm? That's a shame for them. But kinda fucking hot to know for me.” He kissed your forehead, brushing your hair back. “Do you want me to?”

You nod, embarrassed, into his neck, kissing it. “If you want to? But I'm kind of beat right now. That was intense.”

“Oh man, that's just the very beginning of it.” You blink. “My tongue is even better than these.”

Gojo ran his fingers over your cunt again and you shiver, whining, aching and sore. “Better than that? How?”

He laughed. “You're so innocent it's pretty fucking cute.”

“Not innocent.”

“You really are. Okay. I'll show you when you're recovered.” He snorted at that and you giggled.

“I haven't ever had an orgasm by anyone… just my vibrator. And that was different. It was ridiculous. You're… goddammit you're really good at it.”

“Told you so. Bratty thing that you are didn't believe me.” He kissed you and your hands trembled, trailing down, finding him hard, making him groan, stopping you.

“Don't you want me to return it?” You frown. Curiously trying to move your touch against his hard cock still in their sweatpants. He was all dressed and you were naked you noticed.

“If you touch me I won't be able to stop myself from burying my cock in that tight little fucking cunt of yours. Are you ready for that just yet?”

“Fuck.” Gojo had you dripping wet again. The grip on your wrist just made you hornier.

“I'll take things at your pace, my cute little nun.”

“Fuck off ugh. Not a nun.”

“You can hardly take my fingers, so I don't know if you're ready for all this.” He put your hand on him fully then, and your eyes widened, mouth open.

“Oh! Oh…” He was fucking huge. Jesus.

“Mmhmm.”

“You're like a monster.” He snorted, shaking his head.

“It won't be like whatever college dick you had.”

“I was so drunk I don't remember much. But yeah your fingers are bigger.”

“Are you serious?” You nod, flushed. “Oh man. Okay. So virgin nun theory is back. You are so sweet right now too, see. Orgasms and cuddles. Dr. Gojo to the rescue.”

You sigh. “Maybe you're a little right, but it could be orgasm brain talking.”

“See? You can just stay working and I'll get you off whenever I push you too hard. Win win!”

“Oh gosh! No. You're ridiculous.”

“You mean amazing?”

“Your head is so big it's amazing you fit through doors.”

“And my dick.”

You roll your eyes. He's right. Gojo kisses your forehead again. It makes your eyes flutter shut in bliss. “You like that now, do you?”

“With you, yeah.” He flushed himself a bit. Your eyes locked and somehow a forehead kiss was as intimate as his fingers had been in you.

“I like it too.” Your voice was husky, filled with longing, as if you stupidly wanted more than you know could happen.

Fuck.

“Food?” Gojo sat up, sliding up your shorts and putting on your shirt. Change of subject. Well fuck it. Maybe that was a good thing.

“Yes, please.” Your tummy growled as you spoke and you became embarrassed.

“It works up an appetite.” He shot you a wink. “You do blush all over by the way.”

“Satoru!”

“Let's get food.” You sighed, nodding, and taking his hands to help you up. Your legs were jello. He had to hold you up, and was grinning devilishly. “You're just falling for me all the time.”

“Oh shut it.”

“I’ve never been inside of here. Weird.” Gojo mused as you all walked into your apartment a little later on. You flicked on your lights, the LEDs you had hung up illuminating the comfy living room a vibrant purple along with the main lighting of the ceiling. It was simple but cute and spacious, your little hide away.

“You can set the food right there.” You nudge your head to the little dining area you had, one that had not been used in ages. You never had company.

“Gotcha.” Gojo laid out the take out bag on your little black table, blue eyes behind his shades cooly taking in his surroundings. “Kinda small for your paycheck though.”

You scowled as you walked past him to grab a couple of plates and forks. “It’s really cute and nice here. It’s just me.”

“Hmm. Don’t you send money to your family back home or something?”

“How do you know that…” You help Gojo get out the yummy chicken and rice you all had snatched up, along with decadent looking sushi.

“I’ve heard you talk about it.” He shrugged a broad shoulder, before going to your fridge and opening it wide. “Any drinks?”

“I have beer at the bottom.” Gojo snatched two out, opening them with his hand and shirt with ease. He handed you one. “Thank you!”

“Mmhmm. Yeah I figured you sent it to your parents or whatever.” Gojo sat across from you then, and you tensed, chest tight, your eyes pricking with emotion. He snatched up chopsticks, popping one into his mouth, studying you.

“No.” You managed to breathe out the words, sighing and sipping the cold dark lager, not knowing how to say it.

“You okay?” He asked, tilting his head. You felt your chest swell then, emotion you long held fighting to the surface, breath quickening. “Hey.” Gojo frowned, taking your hand, then.

“S-sorry.” You turned your head away, taking shaky breaths, hating how you now of all times feel like crying. Not now. Not in front of him.

“Did I say something stupid? I do that. I’m-”

“No, no.” You sigh, swiping little errant tears before turning back to look at him. “You don’t know, it’s okay. My parents died when I was in high school.”

Gojo’s brows drew together, hand tensing on yours, so tight it squeezed your own hard, jaw tensing. “Shit.”

“Yeah. I was seventeen. Car crash.” You take another sip. “I’m sorry I usually don’t get emotional, it’s been almost a decade. I don’t know if I’m just exhausted or what but I don’t cry about it anymore.”

“Why not cry? That’s horrible and fucking sad.” He sighed, loosening his hold a bit. “How do I not know?”

“We never talked about personal things. You’re my boss.” You enjoy his touch, his presence, more than you want to. “It’s fine really. But I send money to my little brothers.”

“Oh.” He gave a little nod, clearing his throat and leaning back. “I’m shit at emotional things. But I am sorry.”

“You’re doing fine.” You took his hand back, smiling. “I don’t talk about them much. I probably should but… I just don’t anymore.”

“But they’re grown now right? Your brothers.”

“They are, and they tell me not to send stuff. Lately I haven’t been. But I feel like as the oldest it’s on me to care in some way, and I live really far.”

“That's really sweet.” Gojo cleared his throat, looking around a bit at your kitchen, decked out in pink everything. He grinned. “This isn’t how I pictured it.”

“You pictured it?”

“Mmm… yeah. I figured your place was boring and crazy clean. But it’s actually unique and cozy.”

“Well thanks I think. And yes I do like pink.” You giggled.

“Eat.” He started making you a plate.

“Thank you. This is… it’s nice.” Fuck it was nice. Gojo in your kitchen, across from you. How was that a thing?

“I am nice to look at aren’t I.” He shot you a wink, and some of the darkness faded, easing the tension. You smirked, popping sushi into your mouth. “You are good at chopsticks for an American.”

“We use them there for these kinds of things you know. I was a regular at the local chinese restaurants. Especially during college.” You chewed thoughtfully, and Gojo’s long legs brushed yours under the table.

“Why not stay in law?”

“You’re inquisitive today.”

“We said we’d get to know each other. Yeah?” You nod. “So why was a bright law student with a 4.2 GPA not practicing.”

“You know my GPA?” He grinned. “Well shit I guess it was on the resume. I tried, I did, but I couldn’t handle some of the shit I saw. I was working a bit with children and… yeah no. I came here and decided I’d try something else. New life.”

“That makes sense, that would be fucking horrible.” Gojo popped another piece into his mouth, chewing and continuing to study you. “I think I had you pegged for a spoiled bitch with rich parents. I’m way off huh.”

Your eyes widened. “I mean yeah. My parents left us nothing, they were too young to have thought of it of course. And my grandparents took care of my brothers. I got into college young so I just lived at the dorm and threw myself into my studies… but never got anything from anyone.”

“Self made bitch.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“All right, so give me the tour.” Gojo stood holding his hand out. You took it, standing with his help, snatching up your beer.

“Okay, it’s not much.” You take him through the living room, to your little office room, which you rarely used. It just had a little computer and a desk with some pretty paintings you’d acquired.

Next was your room, which was quite different from the rest, decked out in posters and pictures everywhere, everything uniquely you. Stuffed animals and numerous pillows decked out your little daybed, covered in pink silky sheets and your plush white comforter. Gojo ran his fingers along your white dresser, pausing as he looked to your mirror.

Shit.

“Is that… is that me and you?” He pulled off the little picture you had of you and him slid into the crook of your mirror.

“Fuck.” You grumbled, sitting on your bed with a huff. He turned incredulously, snatching off his glasses, blue eyes wide and twinkling as his grin appeared.

“Is this the selfie I took with you when you got hired?”

“Ugh. Yeah.” You covered your head in your hands.

“I’m so beautiful you decided to have me printed. Aww! You’re so cute, little nun.” Gojo came and patted your head. You scowled, yanking the pic and sighing, looking at the two of you. Gojo had grinned and thrown a peace sign. You were all pink and smiley like a schoolgirl.

“It’s not that…”

“Liar.” He took it back, studying it. “You look different. Super happy.”

“I was. Happiest day I have had.”

He frowned, looking down at you. “How the fuck?”

“It was like a dream. You were bright like the fucking sun. I can’t explain but meeting you was a lot. And yeah…”

He sat next to you, quiet, handing you the photo. “Have I made you so sad and miserable since?”

“No. I am just exhausted, Gojo. All the time. I’m not miserable.”

“Not happy like that.” His thumb caressed the photo, as it rested in your hands, hands that trembled.

“No but that’s why it’s there. To remind me of a happy time. That sounds super fucking corny.”

“It does.” He gently brushed your hair back. His phone started ringing in his pocket, he took it out and frowned.

“Work shit?”

“Mmhmm. We have that fancy dinner speech award shit.”

“Your award ceremony?” You chuckled at how he put things.

“Yeah. My mom is writing to me about it, wanting to know who I’m bringing and making sure it’s not a ‘scandalous woman’ again. Because that’s in poor taste.” He rolled his eyes. You grinned.

“I see. That eliminates all your women.”

“Not you.” He looked at you, brows raised.

“I’m not one of your harem.”

“Exactly. You’re respectable and shit. Mom would love you. Yep, you’re gonna be my date.”

“Gojo… won’t people get the wrong idea if I am again two events in a row?” You ask cautiously. He leaned closer to you, too close.

“What idea? That I fuck you in my office.” He put vivid images of you on his desk in your mind.

“Shut it.” You shove at his chest. “No, that we’re dating or something.”

“So what if they think that? It would look good for me.”

“I’m not gonna be your pretend girlfriiend for you to go fuck randoms. You ask too much.” You grimaced as the thoughts of him and others started to confuse you. A feeling you didn’t wanna touch.

“Are you jealous?” He touched your chin, eyes intense, hard to even look at without melting. “You want me all to yourself already?”

“I didn’t say anything like that.” You sighed, looking away. “Just wouldn’t be a good position for me.”

“I know so many positions you’d look great in.” His other hand slid up your bare thigh. You trembled. “On your knees with that ass in the air for one.”

“Fuck off.” You scowl then, standing, trying to get your bearings. “You don’t even know what you want. Last week you didn’t even find me attractive. Ah!”

Gojo yanked you, pressed against you hard. “I always found you attractive.”

“That's bull.”

“You were gorgeous when I met you, just you seemed… pure.”

“It changes nothing.”

“Still so eager to leave?” You nod, but you don’t mean it fully. “Liar.”

“Am not.”

“Think about going, it’s next week. Okay?”

“I’ll think about it.” You sigh, and he kisses your neck, hands strong against your soft tummy, it trembles.

“Mom would like you. She’s also scary.” You elbowed him, and he huffed, cussing and letting you go. “Yep she’ll love you. Evil loves evil.”

“Fuck you.” You were laughing though.

“Would your parents have…” He trailed off. You froze, turning to face him, leaning your head back. He looked away, hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck now.

“Would they…”

“I’m tired. I should go.” He sighed, and literally started walking out. You blinked for a moment, before following him.

“Hey!” You called out, he was literally grabbing his wallet off the table, about to walk out of the apartment. Gojo paused. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine.” His voice was gruff, short. You touched his back, and he tensed even further.

“Wait. Let me get out of these. Can you stay just a minute?” You thought of some reason to keep him, deep in that brain you knew it was only that. You were curious about him. Confused.

“Yeah go ahead.” He was so serious, it threw you off. You ran back to your room, sliding on a little pink skirt and black tank, taking off Gojos’ clothes. You walked back out, half expecting him to be gone, but he stood there, hands in his pockets, leaning back against the wall.

“Here! And thank you.” You held out the clothes, coming close to him, hating how sad he looked. “Satoru…”

“Hmm.” He looked down at you. You took a little breath.

“My parents would have liked you.” His lips parted, and you stood there, hands touching under the folded clothes. “My parents were so funny. Dad was like some stand up comedian. So I know you would have gotten along. You always make everyone laugh around you.”

Gojo flushed, clearing his throat nervously. “It was a stupid question.”

“Not for me. Thank you for having me think of them today. I push them out of my mind because it hurts. But I needed to.” You took a breath for courage, sliding closer, till you were against him. He sat your clothes down on the side table, taking you in his arms then.

“I feel like I fucked it up. Your day. Your life. You were really fucking happy in that damn photo.”

“Not at all, no. I just… I work alot and I’m tired.” You tiptoed, feeling things you thought you never would for this man. He took your face in his hands, bending down as you leaned up.

“They’d like me huh.”

“For sure. They always said I was too serious of a child.” You smiled at the memory, a little tear pricking your eyes. “I am kinda a stuck up bitch huh.”

“A little bit.” Your lips meet softly, and something seems different. It was soft, sweet, not intense or passionate. He pulled back with a little smirk. “You kissed me, that time.”

“Shit I did. It must be that beer.” You teased, he shook his head with a chuckle.

“That much of a lightweight hmm?”

“Yep.” You kissed him again, yanking him down by his shirt, hating how your body reacted. “We’ll go to work tomorrow and be all back to business you know.”

“Nah. You’ll be begging me for another orgasm at like noon.”

“Whatever, will not!” You stepped back, rolling your eyes. He seemed amused again, and no longer… whatever that mood was.

“Bet you do. Please.”

“Get out. Bye.” You shove him, and he laughs, sauntering out. You peek at his clothes, running out to the hall. “Hey! You want me to wash them first or something?” You asked. He didn’t turn around, just leaned his head a bit.

“Nah. Keep em. They’re cute on you.” You flushed, snuggling the damn clothes like a lovesick fool. Fucking hell. “See ya.” He shot out two fingers, and walked out the hallway, leaving you more confused than ever.

What even was that?

You looked at Gojos clothes, bringing them to your room, popping them on your dresser. You put your picture back in its spot.

Just how would work go…

When you wanted to find out just how good his tongue was.

“Ugh!” You flop on your bed, sighing into your pillow.

Chapter 5

Ao3 chap:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55424137/chapters/140901502

[bewitched-hours]

Could you pretty please write some yan pre-forsaken azuretime x reader..one where they all knew eachother from childhood but the reader doesnt want to be in the spawn cult. I see angst potential in that👀

Oooo, I like the idea! Lots of potential for angst, maybe some fluff-

Reader's pronouns will be She/Her for the whole set~

You were definitely cursed.

You weren't usually one to believe in stuff like karma and rebirth and whatnot but at this point whoever you were in your past life must've had a very complicated love life, considering you had both of your childhood friends now going absolutely haywire and trying to get you to join their cult.

Now, you weren't exactly one against cults or religions.

You liked to think everyone had a right to believe in what they wanted and carry the consequences or benefits of their believes responsibly.

But when both Azure and Two Time joined the Spawn cult?

Your gut was telling you not to stick with them. You had a shitty, overcontrolling family which made you all the more desperate for an out back then. Part of you wanted to accept their invitations, even if it was just to gain some freedom of choice in your life.

But you ultimately listened to your gut, opting instead to just casually hang out when they weren't busying themselves with... Whatever their cult had them do.

You didn't bother researching the details. Were you afraid of what you could find? Maybe worried that if you found something you shouldn't have, your only true bond with someone- let alone your childhood best friends- would be severed forever?

Whatever it was, Azure and Two Time could sense it. And although they respected your hesitance and choices, they still tried anything and everything to ease you into the idea.

Like luring a cat out of its hiding spot with food...

Gifts at your door from them both- not even delivered by a company or anything- just dropped at your door with a handmade postcard of them subtly trying to confess their love for you- although you tried not to think about it too much-

Sometimes they'd drop hints of things you'd possibly enjoy about the cult, as a way to tell you that you would never regret it if you chose them for your future.

You were... Conflicted...

They were your anchor. The only two friends of yours that stuck by despite your family's hold on you over the years and even now it was hard to really make friends because someone in your family would always find a way to contact said friend and drive them away.

Needless to say, Azure and Two Time always knew everything about you and you used to know everything about them. Now that this knowledge became a one-way street, the part of you that wanted to join them was getting desperate.

Azure would assure you that your friendship was still stronger than ever to tone down that voice of desperation. He wanted you to join them by your own free will.

But Two Time tried to help you forget about that little voice entirely. They still wanted you to join but didn't exactly prioritize your free will for it.

And it wasn't like severing your connection with them would help anything. You would deprive yourself of any connections and likely spiral into madness.

Oh, how lucky that you didn't have to decide on your own~

It was late at night. You had just finished your first nightshift at your new workplace and were excited to get home and call Azure and Two Time as promised to tell them how it went.

This time, your new shift was a little more dangerous but it was shorter and paid a lot more, meaning you could potentially move away far enough to where your family no longer had the opportunity to get ahold of you.

You'd be sad to be so far away from your best friends but they seemed supportive of the idea when you first talked about it...

Seemed...

You were extra careful with your surroundings, considering you'd rather not be kidnapped or robbed.

And out of the corner of your eye, you could see them.

A group of robed individuals, reminding you of the cult Azure and Two Time were in, were possibly following you.

At first you shrugged it off, simply deciding to walk a little faster and noting that they weren't noticeably keeping up.

A sigh of relief escaped you as the realization hit.

Maybe they weren't after you at all and their cult just enjoyed walks at night. You remembered Azure mentioning something like that when you guys were reminiscing on how you've always admired the moon in all of its phases.

So, you paid them no mind and happily went on.

In a way, it even felt more safe. If their cult happens to preach kindness or protection, they might step in if someone sketchy approached you with ill-intend.

Although, that might just be wishful thinking. They were still a cult, not a religion...

So it was only natural for you to be just a little shocked when you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your head before everything went dark.

By the time you had awoken, your head felt like it was still vibrating from the impact of... Whatever had hit you...

But you had little time to think about such matters when you noticed two familiar pairs of eyes staring at you from the corner of your vision.

Oh no... Oh no no no-

This was NOT happening...

Sitting up quickly, you stared at Azure and Two Time in shock. Azure looked a little guilty but Two Time showed nothing but pure excitement.

"You're awake! We got worried the other cultists might've hit you too hard and we'd have to take care of them in Spawn's name but we're so happy you're okay!" Their upbeat tone somehow managed to give you an unsettling vibe as you tried to get up from the bed you were placed in.

... Only to quickly sit back down as the dizziness kicked back in.

"Careful, you've been in and out of consciousness for two days... We've been able to convince the others to let us take care of you but it's hard to get an unconscious person to eat or drink..." Azure forced out an awkward chuckle, allowing you to finally take note that you were put into the same robes as them... Did you smell lavender?

"Why and how..." You groaned, holding your head as Two Time quickly offered you a glass of water.

Azure hesitated to answer but Two Time was almost ecstatic to tell you. "The Spawn has chosen you, [Reader]! It has brought your image to us while praying and the other cultists agreed that you were destined for greatness!"

You froze, choking a little on your water as a pit formed in your stomach. "Two Time, I am not going to be some chosen follower in this cult..." You wanted to yell, to make it clear you wouldn't consent to this...

But your tone exposed your fear and worry rather than allowing you to raise your volume above a mere whisper.

"You... Have no choice..." Azure held your trembling hands while Two Time took the glass of water to make sure you didn't spill any over your robes. "The Spawn had chosen you and we did our best to at least make sure you would be received safely. Now it's our duty to make sure you learn the ways of the Spawn and fulfil your new duties..." He tried to be gentle about his wording but your gradually twisting face told him all he needed to know as Two Time stepped in.

"Don't worry, the Spawn has chosen you for a reason and now you will be able to stay with us even longer and be highly respected by the entire cult! Once you hear its glory, you'll see that you were saved from a future of agony and loneliness." They sounded almost too happy about that but you've grown to expect this kind of behaviour from them...

"Why was I chosen then? You're both actual followers of the Spawn and it chooses an outsider to be special? How is no one feeling betrayed by this entity??" You questioned in irritation, suddenly feeling your blood run cold as you could've sworn you saw a glint of... Something... In Two Time's eyes.

"We were praying for it to be you~! That way, you don't have to move away and you are free from your family!" Their words only made the pit in your stomach grow...

"But-" You wanted to protest again but Azure's grip suddenly tightened a little on your hands, making your heart race for all the wrong reasons...

Suddenly... It no longer felt like talking with your childhood best friends... It felt like being held captive...

Azure's gaze was pointed down enough so you could no longer see his face properly but with the way he brought your hands to his face, you could almost feel his expression twist into something desperate. "Please don't fight it... We couldn't bear to see you go... Just help us carry out the Spawn's will so that we may all ascend together one day..."

His words carried the weight of a builder on your heart, making you shiver. Was this what they were saying all along? That they didn't want to lose you...?

With a sigh, you weakly nodded. "I'll... Do my best..." You quietly answered, an odd warmth in your chest as you saw their gazes directing back to you with pure joy and... Admiration?

No, you were surely imagining it. You were too weak for any of this anyways...

"You're probably hungry, we made sure you could have your favourite when you woke up..." Azure and Two Time sat down on either side of you quietly, taking turns feeding you your favourite meal as your body began to relax.

It would be hard to accept this new reality but you were hopeful that if you were with Azure and Two Time by your side, it might not be as agonizing as you thought...

The next few months were agony. You've had many awful moments where the expectations of the other cult members had almost driven you to do... Horrible things to yourself...

In a desperate attempt to at least make it more bearable, you requested Azure and Two Time to join you and the cult obliged. You three were inseparable since because the others began to believe that their presence was what kept you sane and in line.

And it wasn't like they were wrong. Two Time and Azure knew how to tell when you were getting close to spiraling and knew how to ground you so you could continue on.

And in a way... They both enjoyed how dependent you were on them.

You trusted only them... You largely spoke to only them... They never even had to do anything, you almost isolated yourself for them.

And at night, they could just cuddle with you and make sure you felt loved...

"It's okay... We've got you..." Azure's tone reassured you from behind.

"You're a divine blessing brought to us from the Spawn... Our future couldn't be brighter..." Two Time's voice rang from in front of you as you all laid in bed.

You were curled up in the middle, shaking as you were awoken by another nightmare. Two Time and Azure were laid out around you like a shell, silently promising to protect you.

"You still love me...?" Your voice squeaked out through your tears, making them almost melt at your state.

"Forever and always, sweetheart... Our love will never waver..." Azure gently rubbed circles against your scalp, calming you down a bit while Two Time was peppering your face with kisses.

"We will protect you as the Spawn protects us... And anyone who tries to get inbetween will surely regret it..." Their words were oddly comforting as hummed in gratitude, your mind threatening to drift off into the land of dreams again as you snuck your hand to hold both of theirs.

By the time your eyes fluttered back shut, you could only hear Azure mutter "We will never let go..." before you were out like a light.

Just what a life to live...

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