#After SO long I finally drew her fully.

[susartwork]

English isn’t my first language, sorry in case of misspelling.

-UNDYNE- Age: 28 years old Magic color: saffron yellow Gender: female Pronouns: she/her Orientation: homosexual

Likes: - Soda and turmeric bread with salami - Smoking tobacco - Playing piano and doing pottery - Anime with big swords!

Dislikes: - Whoever doesn't follow the laws, but she's open to forgive - Needles - Splatter movies

Extra info: - She owns 5 cats after she found them in a box on the street. - She obviously has a huge crush on Alphys, and all her seriousness vanishes when she's around. She basically turns into an idiot /aff - Her rival is UW!Red/Silver, but they're also best friends. - Her parents died at the hands of a serial killer not long after she was born. Many years later that same person stabbed her in the eye and cut off her leg, but Silver luckily saved her by killing him. - Gerson always took care of her but never adopted her. He's like her cool uncle, as is Asgore. - She often feels stressed and gets irritated easily, that’s why she smokes. On the other hand, she will always try to be optimistic. - She has LV... Not many know how much. - She loves Fairy Tail and obviously Erza is her favorite character. - She's very good at singing but never grew an interest for it. - Voice example: "レディメイド" sang by Ado. - Attacks: Can use green magic on souls. Magic spears and bouncing spears. Huge piranha head made of pure magical energy (it's like a Gaster Blaster but instead of shooting it chomps the target). Metal fishing spear that can work as a harpoon. Metal claws.

[kyurochurro]

patchy patchy who has stars in her eyes!!!

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part one

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is devastated when Mattheo gets a girlfriend and asks Theo to help her get over him.

Word Count: 5030

Warnings: Unrequited love & reader crying. Let me know if there's more; I probably forgot something.

A/N 💌 I am so excited about the first part of this series—it's been in my head for weeks! Big thank you to @moonpascal for reading and editing! I'm so excited to hear your thoughts!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

Against your better judgment, you’d fallen hard for Mattheo Riddle. And yet, you were fully aware that nothing would ever come of it. 

You’d grown up in the same circles, your families often crossing paths at dinners and parties, but you were never particularly close—barely acknowledging each other in those polished, formal settings. It wasn’t until you both started at Hogwarts that any real connection formed. Being eleven and navigating the overwhelming experience of a new school was daunting for anyone. When you both were sorted into Slytherin, the shared familiarity in an unfamiliar place naturally drew you together.

Over time, you’d been there for him more times than you could count. You were the one cleaning his cuts after a fight, always telling him it was the last time because you couldn’t bear to see him get hurt. Yet, each time he showed up, you let him in with an exasperated huff, carefully tending to his wounds. When he’d appear at your door late at night, eyes dark with whatever was haunting him, you’d silently walk with him, sitting together in the quiet of the common room until the tension in his shoulders finally eased. You’d pretend to be annoyed when he asked to copy your coursework, but in truth, you savored every moment he sat close to you—the way his arm would brush against yours as he scribbled down your notes, the warmth of him, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air—leaving you longing for him to stay close just a little longer, even though you knew he never would.

He moved from one fling to the next, a string of one-night stands that never seemed to reach his heart. While you’d never been one of them, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were. A stubborn, hopeless part of you clung to the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, he’d one day let you be the one he trusted with more than just a night tangled in the sheets.

Your friends always joked that if Mattheo ever got serious about a girl, it would be you—but you knew the chances of that were painfully slim.

So you were caught off guard when you walked into the common room and saw a girl you barely recognized sitting with your friends. Cozied up in the same armchair as Mattheo. Your steps faltered as you approached, trying to piece together who she was and why she was sitting with your friends. It wasn’t that you were opposed to meeting new people, but your group had never once welcomed anyone new.

“Hey, love.” Enzo murmured, patting the cushion beside him on the couch. He’s the only one who’s noticed you so far; the rest are absorbed in their heated discussion about the latest Quidditch match. You slide onto the couch next to him, your gaze briefly flicking to the girl sitting directly across from you, trying to place her.

“Hey, Enz.” You say with a soft smile, setting your bag down as you settle onto the couch.

“What’s going on?” You tilt your head toward the girl, and Enzo glances in her direction. She’s not paying attention, her gaze fixed on Mattheo with a lovesick expression.

“I’m not sure,” Enzo replies quietly, ensuring his voice doesn’t carry. “Mattheo just introduced us, and we’re all a bit confused about it too I think.”

“Oh.” You murmur and Enzo watches you carefully. He knows about your feelings for Mattheo; he’d have to be blind not to notice.

Enzo leans in closer, and you shift your gaze to him. “Listen, love—”

Enzo doesn’t get to finish before a soft gasp of your name catches your attention. You look over, surprised to see the girl leaning forward with her hand extended. You notice that her other hand still has a grip on Mattheo.

“I’m Veronica,” she says warmly, her smile never wavering. “Mattheo’s girlfriend.”

The word hits you like a punch to the gut. You’re at a loss for words, unsure if you can even find any.

Girlfriend. Since when does Mattheo Riddle have a girlfriend? And why wasn’t he introducing her himself?

You want to question her about it, to find out when this happened and how she managed to get past his walls. Because you had been trying for years. Instead, you sit there in stunned silence, your eyes darting between her hand and her face. Your mind is racing, trying to process the truth you’ve been blindsided by. You’d known he’d never be yours, not in the way you wanted, but hearing it, seeing it so plainly in front of you, feels like a cruel twist of fate.

Forcing a smile, you finally take her hand, the gesture automatic and devoid of real warmth. “Nice to meet you.” You manage to say, though the words feel foreign on your tongue.

Her smile widens, and she shifts closer to Mattheo as if silently asserting her place by his side. Your eyes flicker to Mattheo, whose attention is pulled to Veronica as she presses closer into him. You study his face intently, searching for any hint of his feelings toward her, hoping to find anything that might betray his feelings.

But when you see the way he looks at her—eyes soft, filled with a tenderness you’ve never seen from him before—your stomach churns with a sickening mix of jealousy and heartache. 

His eyes meet yours, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Can’t wait for my two favorite girls to get to know each other better,” he says, the warmth in his voice making your chest tighten.

You glance at Veronica as she nods enthusiastically. “Me too, Matty,” she says, her voice dripping with sweetness. “I’m already so excited for the girls’ nights we’re going to have.”

You can’t tell if she’s genuinely that nice or just putting on a show for Mattheo. “Oh yeah. Can’t wait,” you say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. Neither of them notices the unease behind it—they’re too wrapped up in each other, their attention locked in a gaze that makes you feel invisible.

You tear your gaze away, the sight of them together too painful to endure, and instead turn to Enzo. “What the hell?” you mutter, barely managing to keep your voice steady.

“I’m sorry, love, I wanted to tell you before they did,” Enzo whispers, wincing as he gives your hand a quick squeeze. You murmur a soft “It’s okay,” but inside, you’re far from feeling that way.

Desperately, you try to compose yourself, but the effort feels pointless. As your eyes wander, they lock with Theo's. He’s watching you, his expression unreadable. You muster a soft smile, hoping to mask the heartbreak inside, but he doesn’t return it; he just keeps watching, his gaze heavy with something you can't quite place.

You manage to stay for half an hour, offering the occasional nod and murmured agreement to feign interest in the conversation. But your mind is elsewhere, detached from the words being exchanged. No one seems to notice your distraction; they’re all too absorbed in their own banter to catch the distant look in your eyes.

Without realizing it, your gaze keeps drifting back to the couple. Veronica rests her head on Mattheo’s shoulder, and his hand is gently resting on her knee, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. You can’t help but notice how at ease he seems with this physical intimacy—something you’re surprised he’d be so comfortable with.

When Pansy casually asked how Mattheo and Veronica had met, you felt a surge of restless energy. Without thinking, you abruptly stood up, the couch creaking loudly at the force. The sudden noise drew the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes shifted to you, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity as they awaited your next move.

“Um,” you winced as the room's gaze fixed on you, feeling the heat of their attention. “I’m afraid I'm coming down with a migraine. I’m going to bed early tonight.”

Your friends’ voices fade into the background as they shout their goodnights, the words scarcely reaching your ears. You speed through the common room and down the cold, empty hallway, desperate for the seclusion of your dorm. Just as you’ve made it halfway to your room, a firm grip catches your hand. Startled, you spin around to find Theo standing there, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and hesitation.

“Dolcezza,” he says softly, his voice a gentle caress in the quiet hallway. His eyes follow the tears streaming down your cheeks, and you watch through blurry vision as he takes a tentative step closer. “What’s going on?”

You open your mouth to respond but find yourself unable to form the words. The lump in your throat feels insurmountable. Instead, you just shake your head slightly, your tears continuing to fall unchecked.

He releases a quiet sigh and says, “Come here.” Without a second thought, you step closer, encircling his waist with your arms while resting your head against his chest. His arms come up to settle around your shoulders, and he gently rests his head against yours. As you press your face into his chest, sniffling softly, he whispers soothing words in Italian, his voice a comforting murmur. 

You must have been standing in the cold corridor for fifteen minutes before the distant murmur of approaching students prompts Theo to gently pull himself from you. He takes your hand, his touch warm against the chill, guiding you away from the freezing corridor.

“It’s just you and Pansy, right?” He asks, using his hand to guide you in front of him to let you go ahead and enter your room first.

“Yeah, but she’ll probably stay with Blaise.” You say softly, the strain in your voice revealing that you’ve been crying. ​​Theo doesn’t say anything; he’s long since lost count of the times he’s told them off for leaving the curtains open or forgetting to cast a silencing spell. Instead, he follows you into your dorm, the door clicking softly behind him.

The walls are lined with polaroids of the group, and Theo’s gaze lingers on the numerous pictures of you and Mattheo. Your dark wood desk is topped with a silver lamp and a few textbooks, its surface cluttered with quills and scattered notes. Mattheo’s jersey is draped over the back of your chair, and Theo recalls all the times seeing you wear it at each game. Your teddy, a well-worn bear that Theo recognizes as the same one you bring every year, sits at the top of your desk. 

The room feels markedly warmer than the corridor outside, though it might just be because it’s your room.

“You can sit.” You offer. Theo’s eyes move to where you’re perched on the edge of your bed watching him.

You’ve kicked off your shoes and tossed your robes over your trunk. He swallows, his gaze lingering on you. Despite the tear stains on your cheeks, he finds it hard to look away, thinking how pretty you look.

It’s rare for him to spend time with you alone. Usually, when you’re together, it’s with the rest of your friends. Over the years, you’ve been paired up in classes a few times, but neither of you has ever gone out of your way to be alone together.

He sits down next to you on the bed, deliberately leaving some space between you. For a while, neither of you speaks. When Theo finally glances at you out of the corner of his eye, he notices you staring at a polaroid of you and Mattheo. It was taken at a party celebrating Slytherin’s win. In the photo, you’re perched on his lap, one arm casually draped around his shoulder, the other holding up a cup of whatever you were drinking. Your smile is bright, full of life, while Mattheo’s is more subdued, but there’s no mistaking the way he’s looking at you—content, almost in awe, as you laugh above him.

He was sure you two were going to get together that night.

“Dolcezza,” He murmurs. You hum to show you’re listening, but don’t look away from the picture. “You know I’m here for you. In any way you need me.”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the picture at first, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you stare at it. Finally, you let out a sigh and turn to him, “I appreciate that. But how fair would it be for me to vent about your best friend to you?”

It’s the first time he’s ever heard you say anything that hints at your feelings for Mattheo.

“I don’t care about him right now. I care about you.” He says, and you look a tad surprised at his words.

There’s a moment of quiet as you process Theo’s words. He’s always been Mattheo’s best friend, so hearing him dismiss Mattheo like that catches you off guard. You hesitate, not wanting to unload all your feelings onto him, especially since the mere thought of talking about Mattheo and Veronica makes your stomach turn.

“Theo,” you sigh, your voice tinged with vulnerability, on the verge of breaking. He can hear how close you are to tears. “Will you lie with me? If that’s weird, I understand—”

But before you can finish, Theo gently takes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring, leaving no room for doubt. He gives a small nod, silently gesturing for you to lie down, and you follow his lead. 

“Where do you want me, dolcezza?” he asks, his voice soft. You feel a momentary hesitation, your heart stuttering at the tenderness in his tone.

“Um,” you murmur, turning onto your side, feeling the vulnerability settling in your stomach. “Will you face me?”

Theo doesn’t hesitate. He moves effortlessly, sliding into place beside you. You watch as he slips off his shoes and sets them aside, then settles himself on the bed, positioning his body so he’s facing you. You find yourself holding your breath, acutely aware of how close he is—how you’re sharing the same pillow and could study every detail of his face if you wanted to.

“Thank you.” You say, and you cringe inwardly at the way your voice wavers. It’s as if your sadness is laid bare, impossible to mask.

His eyes gently trace your features, a soft concern evident in his expression as he takes in the sight of you, “For?”

“Laying with me. Coming to check on me,” Your voice drops to a whisper and your eyes well up in tears when you think about why you were upset in the first place. “It means a lot.”

Theo lets out a soft hum, his gaze tender as he lifts his hand to gently brush away a tear that slips from your eye. His touch lingers, the pad of his thumb making slow, deliberate strokes against your skin, as if taking his time. His eyes meet yours, and you watch him with your lips slightly parted, overwhelmed by the unexpected tenderness of his touch. The softness of his fingers against your face feels soothing; you’ve never had anyone touch you like this before.

You shift closer to Theo, and for a moment, he tenses, as if unsure of your proximity. The hesitation makes you wonder if this closeness is too much, but then he wraps his arm around you and draws you in, holding you firmly against him. You let your eyes flutter shut, inhaling his cologne—surprisingly more comforting to you than Mattheo’s—and feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt.

As his fingers move gently over your hair, a calming touch, you rest your head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat becomes a soothing reminder that you aren’t alone, and soon you find yourself drifting off, wrapped in his quiet of your dorm.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

When you wake up, Theo is gone, and you’re not sure if you’re more disappointed or relieved. Given how you feel, you’re leaning toward the latter. Your head throbs with a sharp, relentless ache, and your puffy eyes serve as a reminder of the tears you shed last night.

You’re nearly done getting ready when Pansy slips into the dorm, her brows knitting in surprise as she takes in the sight of you. 

Her gaze lingers on the dark circles under your eyes and the slight tremor in your hands as you fix your tie, “I didn’t think you’d be leaving the dorm today.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You snap and Pansy raises an amused brow at the agitation in your voice.

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood to see them.” She heads to her trunk, her current clothes rumpled and clearly in need of a fresh uniform. You don’t need her to spell it out—you know exactly who she’s talking about.

“I left because I had a migraine.” You grit out and she glances over her shoulder, obviously amused and doubtful at your answer.

“Really? A migraine after seeing those two?” Pansy hums, rummaging through her trunk with deliberate slowness, her eyes flicking to you as if gauging your reaction. “They were all over each other last night. Who’s to say they won’t be again today?”

You stiffen at the mention of Mattheo and his girlfriend, your fingers pausing on your tie. The events of last night rush back—Veronica’s hand on Mattheo, the way he looked at her. You feel a fresh wave of nausea but push it down, not wanting to give Pansy the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

“It doesn’t bother me.” You mutter, trying to sound indifferent, though your voice wavers slightly. You force your hands to finish with your tie, pulling it tighter than necessary.

Pansy glances over at you, a flicker of something like sympathy in her eyes, as she drops the amused smirk, “You know you can tell me, right? About how you feel about him.”

You study Pansy, debating whether to finally say what you’ve kept to yourself for so long. It’s only been hours since you basically admitted it to Theo, and now telling Pansy feels like too much—though you’re sure they’d suspected for a while. But voicing it out loud feels like stepping into territory you’re not ready to face.

“What difference does it make, Pans? He’s got a girlfriend now.” You sigh, the sadness from last night seeping into your words. She abandons her trunk, standing up to fully face you, her expression unreadable.

“If it helps, we were all surprised.” She says, her voice unexpectedly gentle. “None of us had a clue he was sleeping with anyone more than once.”

Your stomach churns further, “I don’t think that really helps, Pans.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of comfort. “I could make her life a nightmare if you want. Perhaps then she’d decide it’s not worth it.”

“No,” you say, wincing as you stare at the wall, feeling the heaviness of the room. “I want him to be happy, and if she makes him happy, then I need to accept it. Even if it hurts.”

Pansy narrows her eyes, disbelief crossing her face. “Are you joking? You’d make him happy—”

“Pansy,” you cut her off, frustration making your voice sharper. “I don’t need you to fix this. I just need to figure out how to deal with it myself.”

Pansy falls silent, her gaze shifting as she takes in the raw pain on your face, a flicker of guilt passing over her expression. She heads off to change, leaving you on your bed, the weight of her offer hanging in the air. You sit there, lost in thought, waiting for her to finish getting ready. Despite her nights spent with Blaise, you both always made a point to walk to breakfast together.

When Pansy finally emerges, you both make your way to the Great Hall in quiet unison. The hum of conversation and the steady flow of students around you create a backdrop of normalcy.

“What did you do after you left last night?” Pansy asks, her gaze shifting from the bustling corridor to you.

“Had a good cry.” You reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the heaviness you feel.

Pansy’s brow furrows. “Darling, you shouldn’t have been alone.”

“I wasn’t.” You say, almost reluctantly.

“What do you mean?”

“Theo came back to the dorm with me,” you explain, your voice softer now. “He stayed with me, just… holding me, until I fell asleep.”

Pansy’s eyes widen slightly, and she falls quiet for a moment, “He did?”

You let out a soft hum, and Pansy grips at your hand, her touch both firm and reassuring. Her eyes reflect a mix of concern and guilt as she looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice softening with sincerity. “I should’ve come to check on you instead of leaving it to Theo. I didn’t realize your feelings for Mattheo were this strong.”

You shake your head slightly, your gaze dropping to where her fingers clasp yours. “It’s okay,” you murmur, trying to steady your voice. “Theo being there helped more than I thought it would. I’m glad I wasn’t alone.”

Pansy nods, her expression softening. “I wish I’d known,” she says quietly. “I would’ve gone with you immediately. I just thought you needed some space.”

You offer a small, appreciative smile, grateful for her concern. “Thanks, Pansy. It means a lot.”

Pansy pulls you into a warm hug, and despite the heaviness in your chest, you can’t help but chuckle at the unexpected show of affection. When she finally lets go, she takes your hand and leads you toward the Great Hall. 

As you make your way to the Slytherin table, your spirits, momentarily lifted by Pansy’s support, are quickly deflated when you see who’s occupying your usual spot.

A heavy weight settles in your stomach as you spot Veronica nestled against Mattheo’s side, her head tilted as she whispers something into his ear. His laughter, genuine and warm, makes your appetite vanish. You decide that you’re not very hungry anymore.

You swallow hard, struggling to keep your emotions in check. Pansy gives your hand a comforting squeeze and gestures toward an empty seat beside Theo. Usually, Theo would be across from Mattheo, but today he’s positioned next to Draco. You hesitate, not wanting to assume he saved the spot for you, but then Theo turns and offers you a gentle smile—a smile you’ve never seen him give anyone else. As you stand there, he reaches out with that soft smile, his hand extended to gently guide you into the seat beside him.

You settle into the seat beside Theo, and with a resigned sigh, you reach for some food to add to your plate. Even though your appetite is all but gone, you know it’s important to eat.

Theo leans in slightly, his voice a low murmur as he meets your gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” he says quietly. “I had something I needed to take care of.” “That’s alright,” You murmur, sending him a quick, soft smile. “Were you able to get any sleep last night?”

Theo hesitates, unsure whether to tell you that it was the best sleep he’s had in a while or simply agree. He settles for a nod, “Uh yeah. I slept pretty good. Did you?”

“As well as I could,” You shrug, “But it was nice having you there.” He can see how flustered you are to utter those words, your gaze fixed on the tea you're stirring, and he struggles to resist the urge to offer to stay the night with you again.

“I meant what I said. I’m here for you in anyway that you need me.” You turn towards him, your expression softening as you take in the genuine look on his face. Your lips part, but you can’t manage to get anything past them. The way he’s looking at you makes you nervous.

“Oi! What are you two whispering about?” Theo’s head snaps toward Draco, who is watching you both with a look of clear distaste at the way you were leaning into each other, gazing at one another so intently.

“Nothing.” Theo snaps out, and Draco raises an eyebrow at the sharpness in his tone. A sly grin begins to form on Draco’s face as he opens his mouth to speak, but Theo interrupts with a low murmur that you can’t quite make out. Draco doesn’t say anything, but faces his breakfast with a disgruntled look on his face.

Theo engages in a lively conversation with Enzo and Draco, leaving you content to eat in quiet. However, it’s not long before Veronica's giggles start to cut through the silence, growing louder with each passing moment. When you finally look up, your heart sinks. Mattheo’s arm is wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he murmurs something into her ear. She glances up at him, still laughing, and Mattheo leans in, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Overwhelmed, you instinctively reach for Theo’s thigh, your hand gripping it tightly as you try to steady yourself. Theo looks at you, startled by your sudden reaction, but you’re not meeting his gaze. Instead, he follows your line of sight to where Mattheo and Veronica are entwined, lost in their own world. 

He drops his fork with a sigh, his hand immediately reaching out to grasp yours with a firm, reassuring grip. His touch is warm and steady as he gently pulls your focus from the scene before you. Theo's gaze lingers on the tear-brimmed edges of your eyes, his expression a mix of concern and quiet determination. He glances at your friends, still lost in their animated conversation, and feels a pang of relief that they’re oblivious to the devastation written across your face.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, rising from his seat while maintaining a firm hold on your hand. With a quick, reassuring glance, he leans down to grab your bag. “I’ll walk you to class a bit early.”

Without a word, you follow him, casting a glance back at Pansy. You silently mouth ‘class’ to her as she watches you with curiosity from over your shoulder. If your friends notice the way Theo’s hand is intertwined with yours, they make no sign of it.

The moment you're out in the hall, it feels like you can finally breathe again. A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you cling tightly to Theo’s hand as you walk, finding some comfort in the steady warmth of his touch. You appreciate how he doesn’t push you to talk or ask any questions, just quietly staying by your side. There's a comfort in knowing he’s there if you need him, without the pressure to say a word.

After a couple minutes of walking, you squeeze his hand and Theo glances over at you, “I’m not sure how I’m going to do this.”

He squeezes your hand back, “What do you mean?”

“Seeing them together,” You mumble. “It really hurts.”

“I’m sorry, dolcezza.” He speaks softly, wishing he had the right words to offer, some way to tell you how to get over someone. But the truth is, he’s still trying to figure it out himself.

“Will you help me get over him?” Theo's steps falter slightly at your question, his heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. He swallows, the weight of your words sinking in. 

He glances at you, unease settling in his stomach, “How exactly?” He briefly considers the fact that whatever you ask of him could make him fall for you more. But as long as it meant you were happy.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the floor as you search for the right words. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… be there, I guess. Help me forget about him. Distract me.”

Theo nods slowly, his mind racing. He wants to say something, to offer more than just his presence, but he knows that pushing too hard might make things worse. Instead, he gently squeezes your hand again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a comforting rhythm.

“I can do that,” he murmurs, his voice steady despite the nerves inside him. “I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

You offer him a small, grateful smile, and he can see the hint of sadness still lingering in your eyes. It breaks his heart, but he pushes those feelings aside. Right now, what matters is helping you heal, even if it means hiding his own growing feelings for you.

As you continue walking, Theo keeps you close, his hand never leaving yours. And though he doesn’t say it out loud, he silently vows to do whatever it takes to make you smile again, even if it means keeping his own heartache hidden in the process.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

By the time you reach your dorm, exhaustion weighs heavily on you. You’ve spent the entire day with your head down, avoiding any sight of Mattheo and Veronica. The silence between you and Mattheo feels foreign; it’s the first time you’ve gone a whole day without speaking to him, and you’re unsure if he even noticed your absence.

Unfortunately, you share several classes with both Mattheo and, evidently, Veronica. The sound of her laugh has become something you never want to hear again.

You kick off your shoes, fatigue weighing heavily on your limbs as you move towards your bed. As you pass your desk, something catches your eye—a bundle of red flowers sitting on top of your books. You pause, your curiosity piqued, and approach the desk. With a gentle touch, you lift the bundle, revealing vibrant red peonies. Their rich color stands out against the soft light filtering through the window, and their subtle, sweet fragrance fills the air.

Your eyes catch a note nestled among the flowers. You bite your lip to hide a smile as you read his messy handwriting: your name followed by a simple heart.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[kozachenko]

Finally decided to play around with my old lineless style again! Also figured out a way to draw Reimu that I actually really like!

Artist's Notes;

I've mentioned in a few earlier posts that I've been wanting to draw in my lineless style again for a while as a way to test what I've learnt from my previous style in regards to lighting. I did the face first and then for a while was thinking about doing a full body illustration of Reimu just to draw her outfit again. I'll talk about the face first since that's the first drawing I did in this batch.

For the longest time I really couldn't find a way to translate Reimu's face into my style. I was able to make her clothes work out well, just not really her face. I did like elements of how I drew her face a few other times, namely the tiny eyebrows and her pupils, but they didn't really feel like Reimu to me, or at least how I imagined her in my head. I then realized that it was less of a problem with the entire face and moreso the eyes, and it took me quite a bit of trial and error to make something that I was happy with. Also, as much as I thought the tiny eyebrows were cute, it didn't really make sense with her character. Like, from what I know about Japanese history, plucking your eyebrows was something that nobles (rich people) would do, and since Reimu is...neither of those things, I decided to just give her some thicker eyebrows instead (I will be saving the plucked eyebrows for another character though, so they will return). After I got to a face I was happy with, my next challenge was the hair. I did the front part first and liked that enough to continue, and then after more trial and error I realized that deep down I was a short-hair-Reimu-is-best-Reimu-truther this whole time because once I gave up on the long hair and gave her shorter hair something just clicked in my brain. And so, after drawing her outfit in again (this time without the yellow tie which is kinda sad but I'll find a way to incorperate it into future designs because it just was not making sense to me in context with the rest of the outfit) and finnicking around with the bow, I came to a version of Reimu's face that I actually liked. I thought that it made more sense for her character to have her cut it short, mainly because she's doing a bunch of Youkai extermination and she has to keep her hair out of her face somehow. I still wanted to make it kinda messy though, as Reimu is probably too lazy to clean it up herself. I think another reason I like it so much is because in Forbidden Scrollery, Moe Harukawa gave Reimu short hair and that really suited her, so I guess that was just a subconcious reason as to why I liked it so much. I also think that the shorter hair helps to separate her a lot from Marisa, as I think Marisa looks really good with longer hair. Speaking of, now I wanna do a drawing of her and Reimu together to really solidify how I draw them (unlike the previous version where it was just them standing). As much as I do like the face, I am concerned if she looks too much like how I drew Keiki now, but that might just be a product of the stylistic choices I made with her eyes and I might just be overthinking it. I am hyperaware of same face syndrome so that's probably the reason I'm so concerned about it lol.

Now for the fully body drawing. I was struggling to think of a good pose for her, so I just took a picture of myself and used that as a reference while still making slight adjustments for readability's sake. This is another case of, "I've looked at this too long and can spot every single issue with it" but this time I'm still happy with the final product mainly because this was a test drive for how I want to develop my lineless style in the future and for what it is I am more than pleased with the result. The main reason I deviated away from my lineless style was mainly because I was having a hard time with the lighting and making it interesting, and I am so glad that I've finally found a way to make it work! I'm especially happy with the clothes, as I think clothing folds are really fun to draw. I was somewhat inspired by the works of J.C. Lyendecker and the way he draws clothes, though admittedly it is not a one to one, since I mainly wanted to try implying the shading of the clothing folds with shapes (I do really want to do a study of his style one day as his art is incredible). So for the sleeves, I drew in a bunch of triangles where I wanted there to be a strong highlight, roughly coloured in the inside, and then blended them all so it looks like a more subtle. On both of these drawings, I also added in a noise filter to give it some texture (as that's what I used to often do with my drawings) and while I do like it, I might want to experiment with making it more subtle in the future, as it's pretty noticeable in both these drawings. Overall, I'm really happy with the lighting and colours of this drawing, and while I could nitpick several aspects of it (her hand holding the gohei looks too tense, I tried making her look like she was standing on the balls of her feet but the positioning of her Gohei's trail of papers ends up making it look weird, and I could've put more effort into the hair and bow and so many more things), this is more of a piece for me to experiment with my style again, and I'm excited for when I get a new idea for a piece, as I really wanna try some more stuff out with this style!

[finalgirllx]

after countless rounds of swing dancing at the community center dance, you were finally ready to call it a night. ellie, your girlfriend, seemed to have the same idea—though for different reasons.

while you were having the time of your life on the dance floor, ellie mostly stayed put as a wallflower, content to just watch. she wasn’t a huge fan of dances anyway, going just for you and close friends. she occupied herself by fiddling with her old flannel, drinking, and a bit of socializing, but her green eyes rarely strayed from you.

as the night wore on and drinks flowed, the way your body moved became increasingly tantalizing, and ellie longed to have you all to herself. so, as soon as you leaned against the bar counter, a buzzed and unusually bold ellie pounced. nuzzling your neck and pressing tender kisses along your skin, her voice turned low and sultry as she whispered, “you look so fuckin’ pretty. mm, can’t wait to get you alone.”

though loving the sensation of her lips on you, you were feeling playful, so you gently pushed her away and said, “you know, i think you’re going to have to work harder than that to take me home tonight.”

an already needy ellie shot you a puzzled look. “excuse me?”

you grinned suggestively, “i want you to try and pick me up. like we aren’t already together.”

ellie pouted for a moment, not fully understanding the game but deciding to play along for the hell of it. she leaned against the counter with her drink in hand, looking your figure up and down, acting as if you were strangers. “so… come here often?”

you rolled your eyes. “try again.”

“did it hurt when you fell from heaven—” “yes it did. try again.”

“you. me. my bed. 15 minutes?” “not a chance.”

you made her attempt a few more cheesy lines, but ellie wasn’t known for her patience. the desire in her gaze and the flush on her freckled face from the liquor did more for you than the lines. you felt yourself getting just as flustered.

ellie drew nearer, her breath hot against your ear. “babe, you are the most beautiful girl in the world. but you’re also a tease. can i take you home before i tear off your clothes right here?”

wanting her just as much, you caved, leaning against her shoulder. “jesus, els. you’re lucky you’re cute.”

ellie beamed, ready to whisk you away from the dance. “i promise to practice my pickup skills with you tomorrow. for now, i just need you.”

[damiansgoodgirll]

Don’t break my heart part 4 with reader and drew finally kissing ❤️🤭

part one, part two, part three

damian priest x reader (platonic), rhea ripley x reader (platonic), the judgment day x reader (platonic), drew mcintyre x reader

‼️ angst, comfort, liv morgan as a warning, some fluff, family issues, a lot of family issues, crying and panicking , mention of sexual things but nothing happened (yet) - part 5 will be sadder and general worse‼️

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated

don’t break my heart - part 4

it’s been a week since your first “date” with drew and you couldn’t lie if you said you didn’t like him. you probably developed a crush for the man but you tried to keep it as private as possible, fearing rhea or damian would find out, or, worse, fearing that drew would find out.

in the same week you’ve been texting more and more, talking about the silliest things. he even changed his work schedule just to train with you - and rhea and damian.

he didn’t mind them as long as they weren’t keeping you away from him. in this week he got to realise how much they cared for you and even if he wouldn’t hurt you, after you’ve been through, he knew that they still would be over protective with you.

you started talking with drew more and more about private and personal things. you didn’t fully open up to him, especially not via text, but somehow he understood that apart from damian and rhea, you were completely alone.

he felt for you.

you were a nice person to hang out with and he couldn’t understand why the other girls didn’t want to befriend you.

rhea and damian knew something was going on with you. they weren’t stupid, they knew something was going on between you and drew but they didn’t know how to bring up the situation because they didn’t want to upset you.

after rhea saw drew kissing your cheek from the hotel window, she knew she should have done something but at the same time she knew that if she intervened in something that didn’t belong to her, you would have gotten mad, and losing you too wasn’t an option.

so she talked about the whole situation with damian and they both agreed to talk with you after raw ended.

while driving to the arena, damian and rhea kept exchanging glances, noticing how happier you were. they knew it was because you were going to see drew and they hated that he was the reason of your happiness.

“i can’t wait for kicking some asses” you said smiling, making both of the adults laugh.

“yeah, i really can’t wait for my fight against carlito…he’s been a real pain in the ass these past weeks” damian added.

“what about liv? just the sound of her voice irritates me” rhea smirked making you chuckle.

you were extremely excited that you were going back on stage. you didn’t have any match yet but you were there to support damian ringside with rhea. you knew that finn or jd would have done something to make damian lose and you couldn’t allow that.

“how much do i have to get ready?” you asked rhea, watching the clock on your phone.

“about an hour…don’t be late” she winked at you, knowing that you were always ready on time and she was the one who was always late.

while moving to your changing room, your eyes met drew who waved at you smiling. you waved back, smiling at him.

you felt like a teenager in love and you hated yourself for that. you’ve never had an actual teenage crush, all the boys you liked, never liked you back and so you had no idea of what to do with drew, without talking about the age gap between the two of you.

you wished you could talk to rhea or damian about this but if you told them you had a crush for drew, they would probably kick your ass too.

while finishing getting ready, you smiled seeing a text from drew popping up on your screen.

can’t wait to see you kick finn’s ass out there! be careful <3 see you after the show!

he wanted to see you?

he wanted to see you!

“oh my…he wants to see me!” you almost screamed like a baby.

“y/n! ten minutes!” one of the managers screamed from outside the room and woke you up from your little dream.

you weren’t supposed be on the ring until rhea finished her promo so you waited backstage, watching her from a screen. she was showing confidence, something you’ve always admired from her. she was showing the world who was in charge and definitely weren’t dom or liv.

but then liv started talking about how she took everything from rhea. not only the title but how she took dom and the rest of the team from her. how she replaced her in the family she thought she had found and you could see hurt in rhea’s eyes but she was trying her best to not break.

you, on other hand, were deeply hurt from her words and a tear fell from your eyes. you couldn’t understand how someone could be so cruel. you couldn’t understand how finn and dom were siding with her. you couldn’t even understand why dom was treating rhea that way, he always loved to be her puppy so making her feel guilty after she’s the reason he became who he is today, it just wasn’t right.

damian was capable of bringing a smile into your face when he appeared from behind and started attacking dom.

“finally” you whispered getting ready to go in the arena.

just a few minutes later and damian’s match against carlito began. it was an easy match for damian and you knew that he would have won easily but when you saw jd ready to attack him you couldn’t stay back.

rhea held you, whispering that it wasn’t time yet.

“i just wanna delete his existence from the face of the earth” you whispered making her laugh.

“let damian win and then we can go” she said.

after a few minutes damian won his match and was in that exact moment that jd attacked him, making you even more angry “okay, go…” rhea looked at you with such pride in her eyes. she watched you run into the arena and began your attack on jd, trying to separate him from damian.

the crowd screamed of happiness when they saw you.

just a few seconds after and liv was attacking you from behind “wrong team y/n” she whispered. her words only made you laugh.

with a quick move you were able to free yourself and to pin her down, making her yelp from pain.

“wrong person to attack, you bitch” you whispered.

she was surprised at how fierce you were feeling tonight “you know, with this temper, you would fit perfectly with me and the guys” she whispered making sure no one heard.

“in your dreams” you said while blocking her arms down.

the moment rhea came to stage, dom was quick to shove you apart to save liv. so you stayed there, watching with damian how terrified everyone was of rhea.

out of nowhere, finn tried some moves but he was about to get hit by damian when he moved apart and sacrificed jd to get that hit.

“what a coward” you screamed into his face making the whole crowd chant with you. as a result of their cowardice, you, damian and rhea were happily celebrating inside the ring.

both for damian’s victory and for your ability to face the team, you were happily getting backstage. damian in the middle with you and rhea on his side, his arms around your waist while the crowd happily cheered for you.

once backstage you couldn’t contain your happiness “oh my! that was amazing damian!” he happily hugged you when he saw how excited you were.

moments like these were rare so they cherished every single moment when you were happy.

“i’m going to take a quick shower and change…uhm…if you want to go back to the hotel i will see you there” you smiled, trying to avoid that topic.

rhea understood what you meant and even if she wanted, she couldn’t hold you back.

“okay, be careful” she said in a serious tone “and don’t hesitate to call if something happens okay? even if you need a ride back”

“okay, i will, thank you” you said happily before coming back to your changing room. you were quick to take a shower and change in some clean clothes cause you didn’t want to lose drew segment.

seeing him on the screen always made you feel butterflies in your stomach. his confidence, his voice while speaking on the mic, his personality and charisma, that you were kinda shocked to see how different he was with you, almost embarrassed to messed things up.

“ouch!” you almost screamed when you saw punk hitting him with his belt. you knew there were going to be bruises and you were kinda worried for him. you knew he had much worse but still, punk probably went too far.

you took a protein bar out of your bag and happily eat it while watching the rest of the show when you heard his voice through the corridors “funking punk!” he screamed.

that made you laugh.

you reached for your door, wanting to see if he was doing okay when you stopped in front of his changing room. he was trying to see the damage left by punk while looking in the mirror.

“need help with some lotion?” you softly asked. his face soften when he saw you standing in front of his door.

“can you take a picture first?” he asked and you nodded.

he made sure to show the bracelet he stole from punk “you’re being petty” you joked while taking the picture.

“i’m the worst, kid” he laughed. you handed him his phone back and he thanked you.

you saw he was looking for some wipes to clean the blood off but you moved first and took a sanitary wipe from the bag you had on your shoulder “here, this should help…” you handed him the wipe but he turned his back on you, hinting that he wanted you to clean him “are you sure? i don’t wanna hurt you”

“you have feathery hands, trust me, you won’t hurt me more than punk did…” he laughed, convincing you.

you moved cautiously, don’t wanting to hurt him, you cleaned the blood that came from the bruises before gently applying some oil on his skin. he swore he could get used to your touch. kind and gentle, definitely not what he was used to.

“and we are all done…” your voice came out as a whisper. standing so close to drew while he was half naked was completely different from having date lunch with him or texting him.

he turned back to face you again and maybe, just maybe, you were a little too close. the height difference between the two of you was crazy, your eyes were fixed on his chest, too shy to watch him in the eyes as you felt them on you.

“too shy kid?” he said smirking when you lifted your head up.

“i’m not a kid…” you whispered back, making him chuckle.

“you are my kid though…” his hand gently lifted your chin up so you couldn’t escape from his gaze “i could stay like this forever” he whispered.

yes, definitely different from the past week where you’ve been texting nonstop.

“really?” his statement took you back and you wondered if he really wanted to stay like that forever.

“really. you’re so kind and beautiful, and it pains me that people don’t see you the way i do…” his hand gently stroking your cheek “i like you y/n…yes, maybe all of this was unexpected and i definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love with the judgment day’s protégé but here i am…i really, really like you” his accent made everything even hotter.

you weren’t good with words. especially not when you were still getting to know him well and even if you knew you liked him too, you had no idea of how to tell him so you simply acted of gesture.

you brought his face down so your lips could meet his but he was stronger so he lifted your body up from your waist so now you were the one on your toes, your hands behind his neck while you were still kissing him.

it was a soft yet passionate kiss. something you’ve been wanting for years. you felt all the emotions exploding in your stomach.

drew’s hands moved from your waist to hold your back and your neck, while his lips were still moving upon your soft ones.

your hand went involuntarily into his hair tugging them. he almost moaned into your mouth but when you opened your eyes and saw his look, you thought you might have hurt him “sorry…”

“don’t apologise love, tug on them all you want” he said smiling against your lips.

“can we do that again?” you said trying to catch your breath.

“absolutely” he said before capturing your lips again. this time he was fighting for dominance, gently biting your lower lip, making you smile into the kiss. his hands wished they could touch everywhere on your body but he didn’t want to scare you away, he still was a gentleman so he kept moving them from your neck to your waist and from your waist to your neck even if he wanted to feel the skin under your jumper.

once you both needed to catch your breath, your eyes met and there was like an unspoken rule between the two of you.

you wanted him as much as he wanted you. both sexually, physically and mentally. there was a connection between you two.

“drew?” your side voice woke him up from his trance.

“mh?”

“do you really want this? want…me?” you were hesitant as you didn’t know how actually felt feeling wanted.

“as long as you want me y/n…” he replied.

“i want you drew…i want this and i want to get to know you but…but i feel like once you know the real me, you’re gonna leave…” you didn’t wanna sound weak but there was a lot going on in your life and you didn’t want to open up to someone who might leave, not again “drew…my head’s a mess and i don’t wanna scare you away”

drew’s heart broke when he heard how scared you were of opening up to him “y/n, love, i promise you, i’m here to stay…whatever you might tell me, won’t scare me away, i’m here for you”

you couldn’t find words to thank him enough so you simply hugged him, trying not to mess with his back “let me put on a clean t-shirt and then i’ll drive us both to the hotel” he smiled and you nodded.

once he was ready, you both went into his rental and drove back to the hotel. he complimented your presence inside the arena, telling you how much confidence you were gaining.

“will you ever get back that bracelet to punk?” you asked laughing.

“probably not” he said making you laugh even more.

once parked outside of the hotel he helped you with your bags and put them on the floor.

“which room are you in?” he asked.

“uhm…405, you?”

“320…different floors…well, love, let me take you to your room so i can proper kiss you goodnight” he said, making you blush “oh so you are shy now?”

“i’m not shy…”

“right…” he chuckled, calling the elevator while still carrying his and your own bags.

once inside, he gently moved your bags from the floor to the table on your left and took his time in admiring you underneath the moonlight “you are so pretty” he whispered making you blush even harder.

his hands moved some of the hair that laid in front of your face and his thumb gently caressed your lips “goodnight y/n” his lips captured your lips one last time before he went back to his room.

you couldn’t really fully register what just happened but in less than two hours drew confessed to you, kissed you, told you that he was gonna stick by your side and let you take care of him.

maybe life wasn’t so bad at all - you thought but then you remembered that you left the remote at the reception to let them fix it as it wasn’t working this morning, so you would have to go and get it from them.

“hello, i’m here for the tv remote please…” you smiled at the lady who was working at the reception. she kindly gave you the remote back but before you could go back to your room, a very irritating voice caught your attention.

“y/n” liv morgan happily called your name.

“liv…” you weren’t in the mood for talking.

“can we please talk? just for a minute?” she asked but you quickly said no and turned your back to her “well, that’s sad…you know, you could have your own spot with us…we could be your new family…it’s not gonna take long before rhea and dam abandon you like your own biological family did” she laughed.

how did she know that?

“how do you?”

“how do i know?” she interrupted you “finn told me…finn told me everything” she smirked “he told me about your family, about how they kicked you out when you were only eighteen, how you had no place to go, how lonely you felt…” tears were forming in your eyes but you didn’t want to cry in front of her “i know you’re still in therapy due to all the things your family put you through….i had no idea they tried to reach out when you got famous, pretty sure not even damian and rhea know…” she kept smiling knowing she was breaking you apart “finn practically told me how much of a crybaby you are…how you needed damian or rhea everytime you were feeling down, finn told me about all the times you bothered him with your own stupid problems…trust me y/n, if your family abandoned you, if the judgment day abandoned you, it’s just a matter of time before rhea and damian abandon you too…” she said before going away.

leaving you there, alone, with tears in your eyes and a mind who couldn’t be trusted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

never thought this would be a series but i can’t wait for part 5 cause is gonna be really really angst and i promise you rhea and damian will be more present

[flametrashiraarchive]

So, since @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi fed me real real good with her Muzan smut I wanted to write something in exchange, and as per usual I got carried away and the Giyuu "blurb" I promised became nearly 3k words of smut and feelings.

Stay With Me

Giyuu Tomioka x F!Reader. Childhood friends to lovers. A lot of handholding.

NSFW below the cut. MDNI

It began innocently. 

You and Giyuu were just kids, given barely enough time to catch your breath and begin processing your grief after final selection when you were sent on your first mission together. The fight was messy and hard. Other slayers died. You survived, and that was a burden you both would always carry.

By the end of the fight, the pair of you were so exhausted you could barely stand. Giyuu's sapphire eyes stared at the snow-covered ground as the demon's body crumbled to ash and was lost to the wind. Your comrade’s bodies remained along with the guilt. The weight of everything sat atop you both, crushing and relentless; the loss and responsibility far too great for hearts so young to bear. 

You were hurting but so was he. Giyuu’s heart has been hurting since the day he emerged from that accursed mountain and stood unblinking in the wisteria grove. Back then you hadn’t known how to comfort that scared, silent boy, but as he sat beside you on that first mission, you reached out and offered him simple solace. You held his hand.

“Giyuu,” you said, “stay with me. It’ll be okay.”

His hand was small and trembling back then, calluses barely formed and skin peeling where the hilt of his blade had rubbed away the top layers. The skinned peaks of his little knuckles broke your heart, even though your hands were just as small and battered.

His hand just hung loosely in yours as you curled your fingers around it. But he didn’t try to pull away. He simply let it be. 

You kept a hold of his hand all the way back home.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly as you finally parted ways at a fork in the road. Those were the first words he had ever spoken to you.

As he walked down the road toward his village, your hand flexed around empty air. You missed the warmth. 

The next mission you were sent on together ended in much the same way. And the next. And the next. 

It became a habit. He would come to your side when the fight drew to a close, his hand nudging yours, inviting you to take it. He never spoke much– which you didn't mind at all; his presence was comforting enough for you. Some said he was weird. Others that he was too haughty to speak. You quickly silenced those whispers. 

Giyuu was just quiet and sad, carrying so much on his shoulders. And though you barely knew a thing about him, he was your friend. So, after every mission you found yourselves on together, after every death, you held Giyuu’s hand.

But the years passed and he climbed the ranks faster than you did. The silent boy became a stoic man; his hand feeling larger, rougher, and heavier after every mission. Before long your fingers couldn't surround his fully, but you still tried. And despite the strength of his grip on the hilt of his blade, he remained passive in the gesture, his fingers never once curling to squeeze yours.

Then, Giyuu became a Hashira, tasked with eradicating demons far stronger than you could even attempt to fight. Your missions together grew fewer and farther between.

You missed him; missed the weight of his hand in yours, the constant comfort of his presence, the deep blue shade of his eyes. A hollow, almost painful feeling surged in your chest wherever you thought of him, but there wasn’t time to dwell. There were demons to kill, lives to save. You took the ache and pushed it down, burying it beneath your responsibility. 

And then the time came when you were charged with leading a squad of lower rank slayers on a mission. Your quiet friend was engaged elsewhere, and at that point you hadn't seen him for months. Perhaps you never would again.

You tried not to think about him.

The mission went badly. Your entire group was wiped out. All of them, even the kids you'd silently sworn to protect from harm. The grief and the guilt were crushing. If only you'd been a split-second faster, if only you'd stood an inch the the left, if only your instincts hadn't told you to duck.

You sent your crow to fetch help, and tortured yourself with what-ifs, sitting on the earth in that forsaken forest. Waiting… surrounded by shrouded little figures. Two days later a troop of kakushi arrived to clean up and recover the bodies as you stood numb, staring… lost.

You were so close to disassociating entirely that you almost missed the glimpse of Giyuu's haori in the corner of your eye. Even when you registered what you had seen, you doubted your senses. Why would he be there? There was no need for a hashira; the demons were all gone. But no… your grief-stricken mind hadn't lied. He was there. For you. 

He approached you silently, standing by your side, his knuckles brushing against the back of your hand. A moment later he curled his fingers around yours, firm, reassuring, but so gentle.

"I heard what happened and came as soon as I could,” he said. 

"I should have protected them." Your voice trembled.

"I know it hurts. You can't blame yourself." His hold on you tightened. "Not even for a moment."

"Giyuu–"

His lips parted for a moment at the sound of his name coming from your lips, but he quickly recovered his composure. "Come with me."

Down the mountain he led you, away from the horrors, his hand cradling yours the entire way. His grip never once faltered. Even when you reached a village tucked away among the foothills. He brought you to a house whose door was painted with a wisteria seal. 

He had the mistress of the house fetch a doctor to check over your injuries, which were miraculously minor, and told her that yes, you would require food and tea when you couldn't summon the words yourself. To your surprise, he knew exactly how you liked your tea brewed and what foods you liked, even though you had never talked about it. It seemed he had paid close attention to your preferences over the years. 

He stayed by your side, guiding you gently through that difficult day. When the time came for you to rest, your hands remained linked across the space between your futons.

The sounds of his soft, slumbering breaths lulled you to sleep. And for the first time you could remember, you slept well.

When morning came, you awoke to the warm, comforting security of his embrace, your face pressed to his shoulder, and his fingers still entwined with yours. Sometime during the night you had rolled across to his futon and burrowed into his arms. 

With a gentle murmur he began to wake and opened his eyes a little; a sliver of deep blue appeared half-concealed beneath his thick black eyelashes.

His breath audibly caught in his chest at the sight of you curled against him, but he didn't move. Neither did you. 

Giyuu's shallow breaths fanned across your brow as you gazed into his eyes, caught in the duality of wondering if you had unintentionally crossed a boundary and feeling as though you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

"Is this okay?" you whispered.

He nodded once, and his hand gently tightened around yours. "Please… stay with me."

Heart thrumming against your ribs, you raised your interlocked hands to your lips and pressed a slow, tender kiss to each of his scarred knuckles. “Always.”

A sharp exhale blew across your forehead. You heard him swallow before he mirrored the gesture, his lips brushing against your aching hands, as soft and tender as new leaves warmed by morning sun. And when he had kissed each knuckle, he pressed a long, slow kiss to the pulsepoint of your wrist, closing his eyes, pulling in a deep breath.

Outside the world carried on as normal; birds sang, people chattered, carts rolled down the streets, but in your shared sanctuary everything changed. You repaid the kiss to your wrist with a kiss to his shoulder. He gave you an achingly soft kiss to your temple. You pressed your lips to his cheek, and he exchanged it for a kiss to the very corner of your lips which curved into a smile to mirror his own.

You were both breathless, pink-cheeked and dizzy with trepidation as the space between you closed and he touched the very tip of your nose with his. The warmth of his breath against your lips stirred up butterflies in your stomach. The hazy, almost drunk look in his eyes made your chest tighten. 

Bringing up his palm to cup your cheek, he stroked his thumb along its curve. He closed his eyes and kissed your lips; softer and lighter than mist at first, then deeper, and deeper. You might have missed the quiet moan which escaped him if not for the vibration against your fingertips which pressed lightly to the hollow of his throat.

Kisses cascaded between you, each deeper than the last. Giyuu moaned again as you slid your tongue over his bottom lip, opening his mouth to permit your entry. With every new sensation he grew bolder, pressing his body against yours, sliding his hand down to your thigh to hitch it over his hip, rolling you onto your back with his weight and pressing you down, once more interlocking his fingers with yours.

The soft smile Giyuu had given you as you exchanged kisses faded, replaced by a silent intensity as he rocked his hips against you, shivering at the sensation. Both of you were clad in thin pajamas, and the shape of his body, as well as the heavy swell of his erection were unmistakable. He groaned as he felt the intoxicating heat of your pussy through your nightclothes, both of you desperately craving closeness in any form. 

“Please…” he whispered, the only word his mind could summon as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, fighting with the compulsion to keep rubbing his cock against you.

Heat tingled on your cheeks as you nodded in consent. “Yes.”

You were no less desperate, wetness soaking through the fabric of your pajamas as he grinded against you again. 

You were both functioning on instinct as you pulled off your shirts, and Giyuu’s lips closed around your nipple, lapping at it with his tongue. He lifted his hips and the pair of you pulled down his pajama pants, freeing his erection. It wasn’t the first you’d seen, but it was by far the prettiest– gently curved toward his belly, crowned with a sweetly blushing tip and adorned with serpentine veins. It was also the largest you’d seen. By a long way. 

He must’ve noticed the widening of your eyes, or the trepidation written across your face at the sight of it, because he released your nipple and glanced down with a worried expression which made your heart ache.

“You’re big,” you explained, wrapping your hand around it and giving him an exploratory stroke. 

A choked cry burst from Giyuu’s lips as his cock twitched against your palm and a white rope of cum shot from the tip, spraying over your stomach. He hurried to clean it up with his pajama shirt and collapsed into you, burying his face against your neck, red with shame and arousal. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. Oh, Gods, I didn’t mean t–I’ve never felt anyone touch–”

“Giyuu…” You placed your hand on the back of his head and stroked his hair, gently and shushing him. “Stay with me, it’s okay.”

His breaths blew hot and heavy against your collarbone, each one accompanied by a ragged whimper until the sensation of your fingers threading through his hair calmed him. “I don’t think I’m done,” he said, lifting himself up and glancing down at his cock. He was still erect, a pearl of cum dripping from the tip. “I…don’t want to stop… please…”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Please don’t stop.”

You smiled and spread the cum over the blushing head with your thumb, arousal flushing your chest as his face darkened and his eyes fluttered shut. As much as you craved his touch, watching Giyuu fall apart was the most beautiful and delicious thing you had ever witnessed, and a part of you wanted that again and again. 

But Giyuu’s fingers gave yours a reassuring squeeze and then let go. He drew back away from your hands to kneel between your thighs. Inch by inch, he removed your pajama bottoms, kissing every bit of skin he exposed; your lower belly, your hips, your thighs, down to your knees. He removed the garment completely and glanced at your rosy face before his gaze fell reverently to your pussy. 

His lips were maddeningly soft as he kissed your cunt slowly, his tongue delving into your entrance as his groan curled your toes. His eyes flicked up to you, gaging your reaction before he traced the shape of your pussy lips, with his tongue. After each experimental caress his eyes returned to your face, so desperate to please, to give you everything he could. 

He lapped his tongue against your clit and your hips bucked toward him. “Fuck, Giyuu– that... Gods, yes–!”

Oh, there was nothing of the shy, quiet boy in his eyes then. Seeing your reaction, knowing he was pleasuring you well, tilted his lips into a smirk before they returned to their newfound purpose of driving you to absolute ecstasy. The blush on his cheeks spread as he licked at your clit, breaking away to breathe and circle it with the tip of his nose before continuing his kisses. His hot, wet mouth against your slick skin applying such divine pressure you couldn’t help but place your hand on the back of his head and sink your fingers into his thick, black hair, silently encouraging him to go on.

His name tumbled from your lips as you fell apart, grinding against his mouth. He savored every drop of your essence. Everything was new and fascinating to him; the way your thighs tensed and trembled, the powerful throb of your muscles as you rode the waves of your orgasm. He adored it. He wanted to give you more. More pleasure, more kisses, more love. He needed it. 

 As you came back down to earth, Giyuu kissed your pussy with such affection and tenderness your heart ached. He desired you, deeply and truly.

“I want–” he began, losing his voice to his shaking breath. “I want to be closer to you… can I…?”

You sat up, still trembling, anchoring your hands on his shoulders as you kissed him. The taste of you remained on his lips, mingled with the comforting scent of him. You wanted it too. You needed to be closer, to feel him inside you. 

Pulling him back down, you stroked a hand up the back of his neck as the other pressed his cock between your folds, coating the tip of it in your slick before pushing it into you.

Despite the fact he had already cum, he was entirely unprepared for sensation of fucking you. His back arched, pressing his pelvis firmly against yours, bottoming out in you suddenly and eliciting a cry from both of you as his feet slipped against the futon for purchase.

“F—fuuuck,” he gasped, lowering his head and gritting his teeth as his arms trembled beneath him. It was all too much. 

His body pressed to yours entirely, craving intimacy and closeness. He didn’t thrust–he couldn’t– he simply ground his hips against yours, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit as he gasped and the crease in his brow grew deeper. He was hanging on by a thread, overwhelmed and desperate to hold on, to make it last, to–

“Giyuu,” you whispered, placing your hand on his, “stay with me.”

He nodded, intertwining his fingers with yours and pulling in a breath. “Always… always.”

You held each other’s hand; that simple, innocent gesture of love and comfort, now more meaningful than ever. For years you had shared grief and guilt, loss and loneliness and the sweet comfort and solace you found in each other. And now you shared this. 

Giyuu Tomioka, that quiet boy whose hand once trembled in yours, now held firm and just as securely as you did him.

[angelpregdreams]

a fruitful union (1)

content: fpreg, half-elf/half-orc offspring, hard labor, hard birth, praise

wc: 4145

When Eirian Estainfae had been told of her fate as the bride to feared Orc chieftain, Rhesh Kharr, she sat in shock for several days. At no point in her life had she considered her future husband would be anyone other than an Elf - let alone an Orc. 

She had never imagined it would be Rhesh Kharr, even in her wildest dreams. 

The night before her wedding to the Orc chieftain, Eirian’s mother came to her chambers, sending the servants away as soon as she entered. Myfiria was nearing her third millennium but still radiated grace and beauty. It was something Eirian always admired about her mother, something she always prayed she acquired from her.

With how she had been feeling lately, she doubted her own grace very much.

“My darling,” Myfiria cooed at her daughter, smoothing her hair away from her face. Eirian couldn’t help but feel tears burn her eyes once she looked up at her mother. “Oh, cry if you must, my dear. But cry here, in my arms, and not again from this night onward.” Her hand tucked a stray hair behind her daughter’s pointed ear, then slowly drew her fingers up under Eirian’s chin - keeping her eyes upwards, “do you hear me? Do not cry in front of them.”

Eirian sobbed, remaining in Myfiria’s arms until the sun rose. By then neither of them had any more tears to shed, simply comfort in silence. 

After her mother left, Eirian sat in her bed to wait for her maids to come in to dress her, bare of all clothing, and her long black hair hanging down her back, loose and slightly tangled. She began to lose track of time after that, her chest aching and her mind moving too slow for her body. One moment she was in her childhood bed chambers, and the next she stood in an opulent war tent, listening as her…husband explained…something she hadn’t caught the start of.

“...-thers, they will not bother you either, so you are free to go about the camp as you wish.” Rhesh finished saying, using the common language. His back was turned towards her, and Eirian finally noticed that he had removed his tunic, the broad expanse of his back exposed her eyes. 

After a beat, she cleared her throat slightly and stepped towards him, replying in the common tongue as a courtesy in return. “I appreciate that-” Eirian stumbled over her next word, at a loss of what to call him, before the silence grew a second too long, “husband.”

A muscle in his shoulder twitched and she rose her eyes from it before the motion captivated her again, as he turned to stare at her. Rhesh lingered in silence after that, his hard stare pinning her in place, but she didn’t look away. After a moment, Eirian noticed his brow quirk slightly, then his face returned to a blank mask. 

“...You look troubled, wife.” Rhesh replied, his eyes roving over her form, not even attempting to hide his lingering gaze. He then turned towards her fully and Eirian felt her cheeks burn. 

His cock pressed against the seam of his trousers and took no effort to hide it. Unabashed, he took two steps closer to her, and lifted up a hand to her cheek. His thumb brushed over her skin and Eirian stilled completely - except for her heart beating rapidly against her breast. His hardened, dark grey eyes searched over her face, looking for…something she couldn’t figure out. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he finally said, dropping his hand and walking away from her, barely brushing against her as he did so. Rhesh left the tent without another word. 

For the following week, he did as he promised. He didn’t hurt her. He spoke to her every day, common things. About how the food was, how comfortable her cot was, if anyone was bothering her. It was charming, and the start of a very tentative romance. 

He gave her time, and she felt like she could never repay him for it. His kindness showed through, but only for her. Every interaction she saw Rhesh have with the others in his warband, he was rough and near-cruel and it never stopped making her stomach turn. But then he would sit across from her for dinner and ask her about what she studied. 

As the days passed, Eirian began to speak more and more, opening up to her husband. Both emotionally and physically. 

Rhesh expressed his worries about their need to please both of their people and the reality of now being split between two nations. She listened, inputting her opinion, the stress of the last few elven councils she had attended. 

When Eirian began to speak about her sadness, Rhesh placed a large hand on her thigh, squeezing gently but not pushing beyond that. That was the moment Eirian realized that she began to fall for the massive Orc. 

From there, their touches were casual occurrences. She would reach for his arm while walking near him through camp. He would slip a hand around her waist while guiding her through the entrance of their tent. It was innocent, it was gentle. 

Surprising both of them, Eirian made the first move. She was in the bath, a tub set up in the middle of their tent while he was out on a patrol. Except Rhesh returned sooner than she expected, leading to him walking in on her, naked, wet, and flushed pink in the hot water. Her eyes caught his, and she swallowed her nerves, beckoning him to join her in the bath. 

Rhesh raised a brow, silently asking if she was sure - to which, Eirian gave him a slight smile and nodded. 

His armor was removed, something dropped from his body with every step towards the bathtub, but his eyes never left her form. When he stood at the side of the tub, he was fully nude and Eirian couldn’t pull her eyes away from his massive erection. There was no hiding it, and it made her belly twist in excitement at his unabashed nature regarding his attraction to her. Knowing he was turned on by her, and her alone, it made her crave him just the same. 

The bath was tight with the two of them in it, but when Rhesh pulled Eirian onto his lap, straddling his hips, did they fit in it more comfortably. Eirian was a blushing mess, but she couldn’t help herself, and grinded her hips down against his throbbing member. His growl was encouraging and, if that wasn’t enough, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down, his lips finding hers passionately. 

Eirian wasn’t a virgin when she met Rhesh but the amount of time it took to adjust to him was far longer than either of them expected. By the time she was comfortable, Rhesh swiftly set a quick pace, bouncing her up and down on his thick cock as she dug her nails into his muscled shoulders. Neither of them were quiet, his grunts and her whines were heard through the camp, but no one would comment on it later. 

When Rhesh pounded upwards, pulling her downwards at the same time, he rocked his hips against hers - then Eirian felt the warmth of his cum spill into her belly. She couldn’t help but whine, having sensed her own orgasm quickly approaching but when he stilled to cum in her, Eirian wiggled her hips needily. 

He grumbled into a chuckle, releasing her hip and reaching down to her clit, flicking over her sex swollen nub only a few times before she finally orgasmed. Her cunt clenched around his softening member and he groaned in approval, rocking his hips up to urge her orgasm to linger. 

From then on, their relationship shifted. 

They were friends, and now lovers - the two of them falling into a working marriage as a bridge between their people. 

However, the biggest bridge came when Eirian’s belly began to swell outward. Rhesh commented on it first, holding his hands over her lower abdomen and rubbing the slight pouch developing over her middle. As he did so, Eirian had the sudden realization, she had not bled in a while. No one ever confirmed the pregnancy, in fact, the two of them decided to keep their first child between them for as long as possible. A small act of rebellion against those that arranged their marriage without them. 

The problem came when Eirian was reminded she was quickly swelling with a half-orc child, and hiding her growing belly was harder as months dragged on. Someone finally caught a glance of Eirian and Rhesh together by a river, the two of them lost in each other, and not realizing a servant now had spread the word of her pregnancy throughout camp. From his war camp, it was quickly spread back to their home countries, and from there - a mess of missives and letters making demands of their unborn child. 

Pregnant and worried for her baby, Eirian cried one evening, the first time since the night before her wedding. Her hands were splayed over the expanse of her large middle, their child nearing full term now, at least with a normal Orc pregnancy. Elven pregnancies lasted longer, but considering the weight around Eirian’s hips, she realized this would not be like a normal Elven pregnancy. 

Silently, Rhesh came to her side and brushed the tears from her eyes, gently lifting her into his lap. He cradled her and held a hand over her belly, his thumb rubbing over her popped out belly button over her dress. There were no words spoken between the two, just her quiet tears and his silent support. 

The conversation about their first born needed to be addressed but for the night, the couple simply found solace in each other. From then on, it quickly became the two of them versus their own people to try and protect their future children. 

Eirian’s belly continued to grow, albeit slower than a normal Orc pregnancy, but just as big. Rhesh became concerned as the days drew on, his eyes and hands never straying from her swollen form in one way or another. His worry became palpable, the entire camp felt the pressure under his harsh orders. Everything had to be right, and Eirian had to be protected. 

Neither of them said it outloud, but they both knew that the Orc elders and the Elven council would be above subterfuge to identify the babe. Eirian knew that her uncle would pull no punches with this alliance, including swiping her first born if it meant he could manipulate the child of their union. 

Rhesh kept his camp in one spot for several weeks, not wanting to be on the road when Eirian began to labor. He wanted his camp set up so their tent was deep in the middle, making sure his men and personal guard were between them and those that posed a threat to his wife and unborn child. It made his men nervous but he was quickly becoming steadfast in his care, ignoring their comments of disapproval. 

After a long day, Rhesh finally came back to their tent. He had been out on a patrol, and after being waylaid by a group of river bandits, finally able to come back to Eirian’s side. She sat draped over their plush chair, specifically bought for her by her husband quickly after her pregnancy showed itself. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, her head tossed back over the chair, her dark hair messily thrown over one of the arms. Eirian rubbed her distended abdomen with both hands, a focused look upon her features. 

Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a lingering look, one that told him everything he needed to know. 

“Our babe is ready?” Rhesh asked her, coming to her side immediately. He knelt beside the chair and took her small hand into his larger one. “Are you well, Eiri?”

Eirian released a long breath, continuously rubbing her stomach with her left hand. Rhesh squeezed her right, bringing it to his lips to gently press a kiss in her palm. She gave him a reassuring smile, “labor is taking a toll on me, I fear.” Her body tensed and she squeezed his hand tightly, attempting to control her breathing as she continued to speak through the pain, “it’s been…all day, I hadn’t expected…you…to be gone so long.”

The Orc held her hand, shaking his head, “I hadn’t either, forgive me. Do I-” he paused for a moment, letting her ride out the pain before continuing, “shall I get someone?” 

“No, no, please no.” Eirian shook her head, teary eyes boring up at him. “Do not leave me again. I just want us.”

Rhesh nodded, brushing away hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead. She pressed her head into his hand, giving him a tired smile. 

“The little one sits low, I think it’s almost time.” Eirian said, grunting and shifting in her seat. Her thighs were sitting wide apart, her massive belly jutted upward, the pressure on her hips intense and unable to be ignored. She groaned and tossed her head back, belly tensing as a contraction took over her again. 

“Fuck!!” She cried, the pain lingering for longer than before. Wiggling her hips slightly, she gestured for him to help lift her dress up. Rhesh complied quickly, shoving the fabric up her legs and pushed it over her hips and massive belly. Her taut skin was splattered with stretch marks, the soft pink flesh between her legs was darker, and swollen. Eirian spread her legs apart farther, gasping in slight relief as she was able to shift into an open position, the head of their babe sitting deep in her body. Rhesh grabbed on her legs and placed her foot on his shoulder, allowing her to push against it as she needed. 

Eirian gave him a grateful look, not pausing her focus as she felt another pain take over her lithe frame. On his shoulder, her foot trembled, her strength pressing against his and it was no match, even as she labored. 

“Breathe, Eiri,” Rhesh murmured, reaching up and caressing her thigh, “listen to your body.”

She made a noise of acknowledgement, a soft huff as she tugged the dress she wore up and over the rest of her body. Fully nude now, Eirian tossed her head forward and looked at her husband, whispering her discomfort, “...there’s so much…pressure…”

Rhesh nodded, sensing the strain on her body as she heaved heavy breaths, thighs now fully spread open to reveal her slit to him. Her foot on his shoulder dug into him, Eirian grunting as the pressure shifted even lower into her core, the weight of it causing her to rock her hips forward slightly and groan out, “fuck..fucking…pressure!” 

“Keep breathing,” he reminded her. In response, she gasped out a deep breath, eyes screwed shut in pain. “Good, good, again.”

Eirian continued to follow his instruction, even as a few minutes passed and several pains came and went. Her body began to arch with each pain, the tightness of her muscles around her middle making the movement nearly impossible to avoid. The foot not on Rhesh’s shoulder now draped over the arm of the chair, fully apart enough for her body to finally give her the urge to push with her next pain. The pressure between her thighs was too much to ignore and Eirian finally gave a grunt and pushed, her body wound tight and tense as her body began to strain. 

“Good push, Eiri,” Rhesh cooed up at her, reaching up to rub her other thigh, his fingers trailing over to her swollen womanhood, feeling every tremble in her muscles along the trail. “Good girl, good push.”

In the chair, Eirian groaned and pushed with her body, the pains now never letting up and the child sitting so deep in her core that she felt if she moved forward it would push the child back into her womb. “Nughhhh…” She moaned, pushing down hard. “Ah!”

For several long minutes, Eirian continued to push, making little progress, but still progressing. Rhesh watched her pussy turn a darker red and began to bulge outward. But as the next half an hour passed, that was the most progress she was able to make. His fingers rubbed the bulging folds softly, urging her to push as the next pain came and went and again very little progress was made. 

“It’s…it’s too big…fuck…” Eirian breathed, releasing her push with a whine. 

She brought up a very valid concern Rhesh had remained silent about for most of her pregnancy. The genuine fear of her body not able to deliver his child, their different sizes painfully clear to notice. If she wasn’t able to do this, if his child was too big and this hurt her…killed her?

Before he could consider his word to express his worry, Eirian began to push again, her body naturally trying to urge the massive child from her womanhood. 

She groaned and it quickly turned into a shout, crying out as she strained and pushed. Her pussy bulged out even more, and Rhesh cupped her lips, the head poking out just a sliver before sliding back in when she relaxed her body.

“Yes!” Rhesh encouraged, “I saw it, I saw our child, Eiri.”

After her mind was able to register his words, Eirian was able to release a breathy laugh, and immediately moaned as another pain began to build. In his hand, her folds pushed against his palm, the skin parting as the head was brought to just visible. This time remaining closer to her opening, the sliver of the head just in sight now and staying there.

The babe came down into a wide, wide crown, very slowly. Eirian whimpered and cried out with every push and urging down her body strained to do, fluid dripping out of her swollen folds with each time. The foot on his shoulder, lifted off, her hand coming up to grip the back of her thigh and lift it up and apart from the other. As her cries and grunts elevated in volume, Rhesh rubbed her skin as gently as he could to ease the pain but it didn’t matter, her pussy was burning. 

Eirian’s pushes lasted longer, and as the next pain began, she began to push down just barely and the head finally lurched free from her tight womanhood in a messy gush of her fluid. In surprise she cried out and reached a hand down over Rhesh’s, the both of them holding their baby’s head. Tears fell over her cheeks as she felt around the head and felt for the cord, remembering that small part of childbirth in the back of her head from her mother. No cord was present and she felt her body relax slightly, some of the worry and paranoia leaving her as she went through the action. 

The rest should be easier. At least, Eirian prayed the rest of it would be easier. 

With how far the babe had spread her entrance open, she knew the shoulders would be an issue if she couldn’t get them out with the help of her body. Waiting for the next pain, she felt the little one in her jolt, the sensation making her hips buck as she jutted them into both Rhesh and her hand. The babe nestled at her entrance even more at the action.

Between her legs, Rhesh smiled up at her with awe, the sight of his small, perfect, Elven wife in the middle of birth was just something he would cherish forever. She grunted and groaned and sweated and cried, but to him, right now - she was perfect. 

Eirian looked at him with watery eyes and gave him the smallest smile she could, the pain making it the only thing she could focus on in the moment, but she still cherished him and his care. 

Their baby, however, seemed more than a little eager, now that the head had been introduced to the world. 

“Ah - oh, fuck!” Eirian cried, grunting and pushing down as she felt the baby shift in her body again, the shoulders rubbing against her entrance. Her noises got louder as she strained and bore down with all of her might. Her husband offered soft cheers of encouragement but she was far too lost in her own world. 

As the more pushes she did, Eirian’s strength began to fade quickly. Her last push was almost half-hearted, the grunts turning into whines again, the pain and the pressure making everything that wasn’t the baby - hard to focus on. 

Rhesh tried to ground her, and her body continued its natural urges to push, but Eirian sobbed and shook her head. “I c- I can’t…” She whimpered, eyes wide and directed at her husband, the look of fear crossing her features made him wish he could take this from her. “Rhesh,” she begged, “please…don’t make me…”

“You must.” Rhesh returned firmly, the hand next to hers near the babe’s head brushed their fingers together,  just slightly in comfort. “You know you must, Eirian. The babe is almost here, feel…” 

He guided her hand to fully cup the head of their child, it barely fit in the palm of her hand, the head huge and impossibly wide. Her breath caught in her throat, realizing that they were so close to meeting their child and that she had already pushed out something so massive. Their eyes met and she continued to cry, but nodded barely, once. 

Grinning, he nodded back at her, pride bursting from his chest as she readied herself to push again. Eirian’s hand still rested on the baby’s head, supporting it as she leaned her body forward towards the edge of the chair to push with as much of her might she could still muster. 

The first one was painful, Eirian screaming as she pushed. The only payoff being a slight gush of amniotic fluid dribbling around the head, spilling out of her straining womanhood, and around their fingers. As she took a breath and began to push again, her entire body shifted. Several things happened at once. Her body lurched as far forward in the chair it could, her knees coming up as close to her shoulders as she could bring them, and then one of the baby’s shoulders slipped free. 

Rhesh cheered, urging her to push one last time, their child almost free of her body. 

Eirian didn’t hear him, her entire focus now on her final push. Her cries went silent, her mouth just open and eyes screwed shut. Her pussy was pink, pulled tight around the huge half-orc baby that hung out of her. The weight of it put more pressure around her entrance as it pulled downward into Rhesh’s other hand. With her own hand, she felt the shoulder that popped out, and reached down to wrap her fingers under it’s armpit. As she began to lose steam at the end of her push, Eirian kept going, her hand now helping her as she pulled and pushed the huge child out of her.

A splatter of fluid gushed out of her as the babe came out, and Rhesh helped keep the child in their arms in the mess, guiding the child to rest on Eirian’s chest. 

Instinctively, she rubbed the child’s back - a girl, Rhesh said - and cooed, tears spilling over her cheeks as she stared at the little one in her arms. 

The cry that errupted from their daughter’s lungs was shrill and it made both of them laugh in relief and pride. Rhesh came up closer to the two of them now, rubbing the head of their little girl. 

“She’s loud and looks healthy,” Rhesh mumbled without attempting to hide his proud tone, “mama did a wonderful job.”

Eirian still cried, but sniffed, unable to take her eyes off the babe, her fingers trailing over her daughter’s features. Every part of the girl was perfect to her already, the pale green skin, the wide doe-eyes, and the obvious Elven ears. A beautiful combination of both parents. She would be beautiful and strong. 

A sudden stake of fear pierced her heart, coming back to the reality that their first born was a girl. Both of their people needed a male heir to secure the alliance for the foreseeable future, meaning she would have to go through this again. At least twice. 

Eirian swallowed, glancing back down at her perfect daughter, Rhesh’s hands caressing both her and the child lovingly. The worry of the future still nagged at her but she smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek - fully intent on cherishing this moment as long as she could.

[north-noire]

What are you going to eat for dinner, dad?

Drew this prompt between Henry and Charlie, with a bonus drabble! Think of it as a writing exercise for the AU itself (plus, I just found the prompt really lovely). I'm also trying to experiment with my art a little more!

Anyway, the full pentadrabble/writing I made for this prompt is under the cut!

--- Henry could hear Charlie talking behind him, her voice sounding curious. "What are you going to eat for dinner, dad?"

"Since winter is coming up again actually, I made your favorite soup." Henry replied warmly. He softly smiled as he stirred the ladle within the pot of soup he was cooking. He chuckled at the thought of her enjoying her favorite stew once again. It was the familiar feeling of fuzziness that came with nostalgia. He could still vaguely remember the times where Charlie came home from school feeling exhausted and drained from dealing with the day, only for her to perk up when she recognized the dinner Henry set on the table.

It felt warm and tender, like the soup he was making for her.

It didn't take long until Henry finally took a light taste of the soup he was making. He made sure it tasted just like how it used to be. He could still taste the familiar warm saltiness of the soup, and that was enough for him. He was sure that Charlie would like it too.

As he turned off the stove, he was already grabbing two plates near him to put them at the dinner table. "Well, dinner's ready."

Charlie chuckled in reply, but there was clearly a hint of sadness in her voice. "I really wish I could eat with you too, dad."

"W-what are you talking about, it's your fav--"

Then the realization hit Henry.

The reminder that she was just a soul confined within the Marionette felt so sudden, when Henry could've sworn that he was talking to Charlie - back to the person he used to know. Henry hated that he could still imagine Charlie herself just from her voice.

Charlie sounded distraught as she spoke to Henry again, almost ashamed with what she had said. "S-sorry, I appreciate that you made this all for me and everything, it's just that--"

"It's alright, Charlie, you shouldn't apologize," Henry assured her, trying to avoid showing any devastation in his tone. It hurt him to get reminded that she wasn't a person anymore, but at most, he appreciated the gentle reminder from her, even if it hurt to fully accept it all deep down.

As much as he'd rather see his own daughter's form rather than the Marionette itself, the last thing he wanted was for Charlie to feel bad for what had happened to her.

At the end of the day, she was still his daughter, and he loved her all the same.

As he put back one of the plates he was holding back in the cupboard, he hastily sat down on the table beside his daughter. He looked at Charlie and put a hand on her shoulder.

Henry tried to smile at her. "How about we go do something after this? Something we can do together."

Charlie's expression softened. "…yes. I'd love that."

[theoldsports]

Matrimony

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 5.7K words

SMUT 18+ ONLY. unprotected sex. possessiveness, flirting, drinking, body image/too tight dress, gaslighting.

THE WEDDING. FINALLY. CLICK HERE TO READ MORE.

The sheets in the large hotel bed were soft and smelled so clean. They lacked the heavy rose smell that lingered in the Snow home. It was a welcome change of pace.

Too bad [Y/N] had hardly slept a wink in them. She was too nervous. It was the day of her wedding, after all.

She didn’t hate Coriolanus. She had before, but she didn’t now, not really. Coriolanus had slept well last night, which he rarely did. He only slept a few hours a night too often. [Y/N] thought her nerves had increased due to the proximity of the wedding, Coriolanus’ had subsided as the day drew closer because it was likely that he thinking he was one day closer to fully having [Y/N] under his thumb. But whoever knew what Coriolanus was thinking?

[Y/N] was worried about saying I love you and I do. She knew Coriolanus didn’t want her to be so anxious about it and reminded her, with a kiss to her forehead each time, that she could do it. He loathed being supportive, but he was getting better at pretending. It was less exhausting for him now.

If nothing else, tonight would be a party and a party meant she would drink and eventually she would blackout, if she was lucky. And Coriolanus would get her back upstairs to their hotel room and fuck her good and hard, so he would be happy. And they would wake up still wed the next morning. And he would be still be haughty and she would still be discontented. And that would be the first day of the rest of their lives.

[Y/N] had watched Coriolanus leave quietly through the door nearly an hour before. The few moments of rest she was able to get from her night of sleep ceased when he pulled his arm off of its nightly home on her waist. He had turned over his shoulder to look at her from the door before he left. One final good, long look. It was funny. Coriolanus never took the time to look back at her. [Y/N] snapped her eyes shut when Coriolanus rocked his weight back onto his heels. [Y/N] hoped he hadn’t seen her blush or fluttering eyelashes. [Y/N] got so excited at the simplest gesture from him. If she were a less careful woman, she may have almost smiled.

He looked at me.

The brief joy was gone with Coriolanus and he was now long gone. [Y/N] finally rolled over to step out of the bed. Her new silk white nightgown alluded to her future that evening. [Y/N] sighed. Her hand crunched against something paper beside her. Coriolanus must have left something. [Y/N] glanced to her right. A white rose from the vase he had requested on the bedside table, free of thorns. [Y/N] smirked. Of course. There was also a note in his curly, slanted script.

Darling,

Big day. It’s likely the next time I see you will be at the alter. Remember, you have nothing to be nervous about. I’ve got you.

And don’t lace your corset so tight you can’t breathe. You’ve got dancing to do.

C.B.S.

He was so good at baiting her into comfort that [Y/N] almost forgot it was baiting. She took at deep breath. I’ve got you. Coriolanus still had not seen the dress, but his educated guess about the corset was spot on. He was always spot on. He paid too close attention. It was shocking that Coriolanus could oscillate from obvious manipulation and intimidation to the man that cared for [Y/N]. Unless the second part was more elaborate manipulation too.

[Y/N] went to the bathroom to piss.

Dark spots on her neck and chest greeted her. They never really faded away. Coriolanus would find new places for them, or mark over the old ones. [Y/N] liked how they looked and certainly how they felt to receive. But what a pain they were to conceal! She should have known better and acquired a high-necked gown way back when. It was a winter wedding, so it wouldn’t have looked out of place.

The beauty parlor would be able to work some of that Capitol magic on them.

[Y/N] looked in the mirror over the sink in the bathroom with the pristine black tile and giant bathtub. She smiled vapidly. That was that. By the end of the day, she would officially be a wife. Her identity would be defined by Coriolanus.

Once, she smiled because her poor decisions would reflect boldly on Coriolanus. Now, [Y/N] worried because it was the other way around. She was a permanent extension of Coriolanus and his aspirations and desires the second she had his name.

She sighed. For better or worse.

[Y/N] crept down to the hotel lobby in large green sunglasses and a hotel robe. It was turquoise. It was a terrible color. Coriolanus would have hated it. She lost her purple sunglasses after the Flickerman interview. Coriolanus did like that. He hated those sunglasses too. The green ones were better to him. A small part of [Y/N] liked knowing that Coriolanus was pleased by what she wore.

She glanced around. No sight of Coriolanus. She didn’t want to break tradition. There was no more room for things going wrong in her life. Across the lobby, [Y/N] went towards the beauty parlor and the wedding shop. She had gone through so many catalogs of dresses and hairstyles and everything must be perfect, only for her to allow to be handled by beauticians who were strangers at the last minute.

Then the hands landed on her waist. [Y/N] gasped, readying herself to scream. The hands pulled her to firm chest and the hands turned into arms, wrapping around her waist and pulling her back beside a ficus and a fern.

She looked down and saw the hands. Pale white hands with rings and a loose bracelet.

Coriolanus Snow, rigid, but never one for following the rules.

“Coriolanus!” [Y/N] squeaked. “You’re not supposed to see me yet. Let go!”

“That’s a silly old story. Saw you this morning.” He whispered with a smirk, holding [Y/N] waist tight.

“It’s… yeah, but—“

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to see the dress. But you—“

“I don’t wanna ruin today—“

“Fine! Fine! Just let me look at you one more time and I’ll let you go,” Coriolanus said. He spun [Y/N] to face him easily. His eyes slid from her eyes through glasses, down her face, her neck, her breasts, back up to her neck. That’s where his eyes greedily stopped. His finger tickled the skin on the right side of her neck where he had left a dark bruise. [Y/N] laughed a little and slotted her face into his hand.

“No thanks to you, the ladies in the parlor will have to work harder on me today.” [Y/N] said, referencing the marks.

“Don’t cover them.” Coriolanus said simply.

“What?”

Coriolanus smiled softly. “Don’t cover them. You look very beautiful.”

“Yeah, didn’t know you had such a sense of humor, Coryo. Could’ve fooled me,” [Y/N] smirked. “It’s our wedding.”

“So?”

“So…” There was no good argument. [Y/N] had done much worse before. They both knew that. She huffed.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Do whatever you want. I’m just saying, if I had to take my shirt off for some reason tonight, my back looks three times worse than your neck.”

[Y/N] blushed. “Yeah, but you eliminated your argument by saying that. Because you are wearing a suit. I’m wearing a low-cut dress.”

Coriolanus gritted his teeth. He was going to say something harsh. He refrained. “So the dress is low-cut?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Fuck!” [Y/N] exclaimed. “No. No more. I’m going,” she tried to pull away from Coriolanus. “Let me go. I’m going. I’ve ruined it,” she jabbed a finger in his chest. “You cursed us. We’re cursed. That’s bad luck.”

“If anyone cursed us,” Coriolanus let go of her waist. “It was you, Darling.” He called as she walked away. [Y/N] shuddered as crossed her arms. He hadn’t meant it, had he? God, he loved it when he made her nervous.

—

[Y/N] had some bridesmaids. She did not love that she had to share the stage and the big fluffy dresses with the ladies, but here she was. Lysistrata was her Maid of Honor. She wanted it to be Clemensia, but Coriolanus said no.

After that, Clemensia refused to be in the wedding party at all. Too bad.

[Y/N] thought she looked good in her white snowy gown. Lovely even. But she was too nervous to focus on much of that beauty.

Everyone would nitpick her dress, her hair, her body, why she of all people was unbreakably becoming the Capitol’s darling’s Darling, among other things. The pressure was high. [Y/N] had not been able to make herself cry either, which was unusual for her. The woman wanted to claw at her skin and tear it off from the itching, nerves and impatience.

Would Coriolanus finally love her tomorrow? Or would he ignore her now that she was belted in permanently as his plaything. [Y/N] didn’t want to be used only when Coriolanus wanted. She would have bitten her nails if they weren’t so well-manicured.

[Y/N] inhaled. Her corset was too tight and she was so nervous. The breath came out ragged. It didn’t relieve her the way that a deep breath was supposed to. She thought back to Coriolanus’ note: And don’t lace your corset so tight you can’t breathe. She hadn’t listened well enough. [Y/N] did not want him to be mad at her. She reached back with shaking hands to try and loosen it, but she couldn’t manage.

I’ve got you.

When she sat down on the bench in the hallway outside of the venue to wait for her father to walk her down the aisle, the pressure shift made the bottom half of her dress’ corset tightened more. The dress was stunning, it was a true. A ballgown, a favorite style of [Y/N]’s. It was indeed low-cut with a beaded white corset pressing her breasts higher. It didn’t make her feel whorish, but it helped her feel beautiful. Over that, she had a wintery long-sleeved translucent mesh top. It was white and was covered with speckles that looked like snow in the places where snow might catch as it sprinkled down. Her veil was less traditional and didn’t cover her face completely. [Y/N] felt freer in it, and Coriolanus wouldn’t have to wrestle with it. Under it, she wore the red heels she had worn at their engagement party. It was sentimental, but that night was one of the first actual lovely memories she had of Coriolanus. Was that memory meant to be lovely? [Y/N] was unsure. She decided she would remember it that way. If she didn’t, she would lose her mind at what she had done to herself.

I’ve got you.

Everything had to be lovely.

The wedding had to be lovely.

“[Y/N],” Her father said, approaching her in a loud colored tuxedo. Gaudy. Tacky. “Stand. Let me look at you,” He muttered, extending his arm to her. [Y/N] did as she was told like she was a child again. The man could barely look at her. They had spoken for the first time since their engagement party at the rehearsal dinner the day prior. Her father was pleased to leave the burden of his disappointment on another man. [Y/N] shifted and did a small spin for her father before taking his arm. She could hear the orchestra playing inside the venue along with the chatter. [Y/N]’s looming father reached behind her and grabbed the ties of her corset and pulled the ends tighter. Her breath hitched. “That’s better.” Her father said. Then, he proceeded to the door to finally give her away.

[Y/N]’s head swam. She had already been laced into the damn corset for what felt like too long but in reality had been a bit over an hour. She coped by taking shallow breaths from her chest and staring straight ahead, unblinking.

The doors parted. [Y/N] hadn’t even realized that had been pulled in front of the doors to the event hall itself. All white and red, like most winter weddings were meant to be, but white and red the way Coriolanus (and by extension [Y/N] now) liked. The bouquet, forgotten, was held straight and clutched tighter. [Y/N] lacquered her smile back on. Being in front of everyone she had ever known made her dizzy. Everyone she had ever known gasped and smiled in delight at her. The music changed. She walked. She wanted to puke. Eventually, she was at the alter. Her ribs ached. Her chest burned. [Y/N] smiled wider.

Coriolanus. His loose blonde curls were determinedly tamed, slicked behind his ears. His unruly hair never did what anyone commanded, so it was an impressive feat. Black tux, white bow tie, red rose; standard. His shoes were also red. Those were new. Did he think about her red shoes from that night often too? Had he snooped and seen her shoes in her tote bag last night even though she told him not to? It must have been his intuition. Best not to read into it. Coriolanus Snow liked red.

He also wore gloves. White and dapper. He looked so clean. Those gloves made sure not a trace of the cruelty he was capable of was visible. No trace left behind.

[Y/N]’s father deposited her in front of Coriolanus with an obligatory kiss to her forehead and walked away. She couldn’t recall walking to the alter. Her knees shook. Coriolanus was tall. Had he always been so tall?

Effortlessly, Coriolanus leaned forward and wrapped his hands behind her waist. [Y/N] thought he had just meant to place his hands on her too-narrow waist to greedily admire what he was capable of manipulating her body into. Instead, he loosened it.

I’ve got you.

What a beautiful scene that must have been. [Y/N] inhaled deeply through her nose as if she had risen from the dead. The world around her felt real again. Everything looked real. “Thank you.” She gasped.

Coriolanus kissed her forehead, much like her father had. Power shown as repetition and reversal of action. “I thought I told you not to cinch it so much.” He whispered softly. Coriolanus tipped her chin up with the fingers under his white leather glove. The pictures of that moment would later be so beautiful.

“I didn’t.”

“Somebody did, Darling… Silly. These are pretty, though.” Coriolanus whispered away from prying microphones. He dragged his finger across her neck, meaning some of the marks she had left uncovered on a stupid whim that was about to share a last name with her, but showcasing her pearl necklace instead.

“For you,” [Y/N] panted back sarcastically. “Can we get on with it?”

“Romantic.” Coriolanus scoffed and leaned away from [Y/N]’s ear. His shoulders unrolled to their full and staggering height, beautiful beast that he was. Coriolanus took [Y/N]’s hand that did not hold a bouquet of red roses in his. She swore she had imagined the circle Coriolanus has ghosted over the back of her hand.

The officiant of the wedding was beckoning everyone to sit. [Y/N] hadn’t realized the attendees had been standing. The officiant wore black as well. He was disgracefully old. [Y/N] looked out the massive picture window over Coriolanus’ shoulder. There was snow outside, too.

The old, frail man cleared his throat and held his arms open to the congregation. “A true lasting marriage requires effort, commitment, and unending understanding. As [Y/N] and Coriolanus declare their partnership on this day, we reflect on the meaning of partnership and its importance to a successful union. Partners, in life, think of one another as capable, but each arriving with their own special skills.” At these words, [Y/N] scoffed. She wondered if Coriolanus thought her capable. Coriolanus stared down at her. No love. No hatred either. He looked at her stoically. She wanted him to look down at her with something. Usually, he did. She wanted an iota of anything.

What happened to I’ve got you.

“Marriage is rarely equal. In marriage, you will often be required to honor commitments you cannot fully understand. The mark of a successful marriage is that you meet these commitments with patience, honesty, and love—even as you fail.

“Over time, you will realize that the burdens placed upon you by life are not loads to be carried—they are opportunities. Each day is an opportunity to be shared with your partner; the dawn of each day brings new experiences.”

[Y/N] felt like vomiting. This was burdensome. Not a burden, a weight. Would Coriolanus help her lift it? Or would he leave her to roll the boulder up the hill each morning on her own? He promised that he would; that he had her back, that he would help, that she would never be left to struggle alone again.

“Your rings and your vows, please.” The old man sputtered. Coriolanus removed his gloves to tuck into his pocket and exposed his beautiful hands. [Y/N] wondered if he had ever played piano. Likely not. He did not own a piano. His hands indicated that he would have been natural to it.

He procured two white gold rings from his breast pocket. One thicker for his own large hand, one daintier with three very small rubies to go with the massive ruby in the daintier still engagement ring. Coriolanus passed her the one meant for his finger.

Now came the part that had [Y/N] worried. Both the words themselves and the memorization of such words. Coriolanus was to begin. Naturally.

Coriolanus inhaled deeply. His chest jumped under his white tie. [Y/N] nearly guessed he was nervous. How could a creature like that get nervous? “I, Coriolanus Snow, take thee, [Y/N] [L/N], to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.” He spoke deceptively calmly. His voice boomed with an authoritarian edge. He had a completely different voice in public than he did in their bedroom. After the words were passed his lips, he smiled. Finally. Finally, he attempted to reveal a feeling. He slid the ring down her left ring finger to its final resting place.

“I, [Y/N] [L/N], take thee, Coriolanus Snow, to be my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey,” the word that had made her so nervous. Once she said it, everything felt much lighter. The hardest part was over. [Y/N] took that last step to give herself to Coriolanus. He had everything of hers, and now he had her ring finger too. She felt she had rushed the beginning of this vow, so she took her time with the little that remained. “Till death us do part.” [Y/N] concluded as a wife. She pressed his ring onto his ring finger. Slow. Coriolanus couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

[Y/N] dragged her eyes from the hand that dried her tears and gripped her throat, to the eyes that hungered for every morsel of her. [Y/N] handed her bouquet to the woman, whichever one stood closest behind her, and clasped both of her hands against Coriolanus’, like she was supposed to. She would be the best at doing what she was supposed to. From this day forward, [Y/N] would find that she was capable at something and do it effortlessly for Coriolanus. There was no other option.

Lastly, the Capitol’s undying wedding tradition. Handfasting. The officiant spoke again with clinical and precise rhythm. “Handfasting is an old and venerable tradition that dates back more than ten thousand years. As I wrap this ribbon around your hands, I want you to think about what you think marriage means.” The traditional narrow red ribbon cinched together their palms like a corset.

Marriage was… what, a partnership? A trap, a cage… [Y/N] thought back to the beginning of the ceremony. A burden? No. An… Opportunity. Coriolanus Snow was an opportunity. He took a chance with her and her bullshit everyday. She did the same. Everyday would be an opportunity that she would take at all costs. [Y/N] would make it work.

I’ve got you.

“Marriage will deepen your commitment to one another and strengthen the respect and support you each bring to your relationship.

“Your challenge is to grow with one another, to offer each other compassion and understanding, and to take each new challenge and adventure as it comes as a team. With each wrap of the ribbon, I give my blessing as an officiant that your marriage will be so. Let this bond be strong. Let this bond be eternal. I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Coriolanus Snow.”

As the pair’s hands were cinched even nearer together, [Y/N]’s eyes caught Coriolanus’ in prolonged eye contact. They both looked light. Relieved. It was over. The hard part was over. She swore she even saw Coriolanus smile— not smirk.

“Mr. Snow, you may now kiss your bride.”

Coriolanus did not waste even a second. He tipped his bound hands up and used the force of the action to pull [Y/N] to him. Their lips met in a searing, stinging kiss. Coriolanus pressed down against her, [Y/N] neck strained from turning her head up.

—

Everything was a blur. There was the dance floor, the drinks Coriolanus kept bringing, the hand locked on [Y/N]’s waist. The delicious cake. [Y/N] had smashed a forkful into Coriolanus’ pristine pale face. He had looked both surprised and upset, but he didn’t say anything like the good husband he was becoming. Plus he got the opportunity to get [Y/N] back and do twice the damage. He did this swiftly. Everyday in a marriage was an opportunity. Or something.

[Y/N] had been introduced to many important people Coriolanus worked with but he kept her too drunk and dumb to do much more than nod and keep her up arm protectively glued to Coriolanus’ arm. Especially around some of the prettier woman. She hated seeing his white teeth flash at those other woman. How could they smile like that at him with his wife in her gown right there?

[Y/N] stumbled to the bar for a whisky sour. While she waited on the bartender to mix her drink, she glanced through the bright flashing lights at her husband. The fair-haired man was sitting at their table, chatting with one of his University ‘friends’ that had stopped by to wish them well. [Y/N] glanced back at the bartender.

“Congrats.” The bartender said. [Y/N] squinted at his name tag but barely registered what it said.

“Thank you.” She replied, folding her hands on the bar.

“Some wedding. Very beautiful. You look very beautiful. That’s a hell of a dress, too. Is it hard to move in?”

“No, not really.” [Y/N] smiled slightly.

“Your husband’s been back and forth the the bar a ton. He pretty drunk by now?” Bold. Why had the bartender asked that?

[Y/N] her head. “Most of those were for me. So. How about that whisky sour, hm?” She said, her smile getting tighter and tighter-lipped.

“A man like that would make me wanna drink too.”

[Y/N] had spent much of her relationship with Coriolanus feeling that way, but hearing it from someone else made her upset. She did not like hearing anyone say a damn word about him. Only she was allowed to be upset about Coriolanus. Her eyes narrowed at him. “Excuse me?”

“He’s… He’s tough, no? Cold. Hard exterior. Guys like that freak me out. You seem very different from him. I mean, fuck. Look what he did to your neck. You let him do that? He make you do that?” He shrugged too casually. The stranger was taking much too long to mix a whisky sour. It was an easy drink. How many had he already unknowingly made for her tonight?

“Different maybe,” she started. “But he doesn’t freak me out at all. He doesn’t… Make me do things I don’t want to,” Lie. Not right now, but sometimes, lie. “You don’t know him.”

“Sure, sure, I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Odd topic choice.”

“Is it?” The man smiled. “I’ve been to enough of these weddings to know that girls like you rarely fall for men like him. Usually, there’s some crying bride at the bar because her parents said they would disown her if she didn’t marry some guy like your blondie over there. You’re keeping it together fairly well, doll.”

“Make the damn drink.” [Y/N] replied.

“Jeez, lady. Just trying to—“

“I think the lady told you to make the damn drink,” Came Coriolanus’ voice and his arm squeezing squeezing like a vice around her waist. She didn’t know how much more that waist could take. “Darling, is this man bothering you?” He asked quietly.

If she said yes, the bartender’s tongue would be cut out, or worse. The young man didn’t know; he had been trying to be nice. But it felt so good when Coriolanus came to her rescue and she had to practice positive reinforcement every now and then.

[Y/N] decided she would do her favorite thing: cry. Coriolanus couldn’t ever ignore her tears. [Y/N] knew her husband loved to fix a bird with a broken wing like herself. She sniffled and blinked a few times, staring dead at the bartender, before the tears started to fall.

“Yes. He is bothering me.” She said. The bartender looked appalled at the psychotic display. Clearly, he had misread her situation. [Y/N] knew she was capable of being nearly as rotten as Coriolanus. This man standing in front of her was about to face the consequences of assumptions. [Y/N] looked up at Coriolanus and placed a hand on his chest. He understood exactly what she wanted. Causing their first scene as a married couple. Milestone.

Coriolanus tightened his grip on her. “Look,” Coriolanus squinted at the bartender’s name tag. “Brutus. Hm. Brutus, do you know what that name means?” He condescended.

“Strong.” The bartender replied, putting his shaker down cautiously.

“Really? Well, I suppose it could contextually. Though, I was under the impression it meant dull,” Coriolanus scoffed. “What have you done, Brutus, to upset my wife so much?” He said Brutus as if he were saying dull.

“N-nothing. Just making conversation.”

Coriolanus smirked and [Y/N]’s grin echoed his, but her teeth were straighter. They both liked it when they had someone uncomfortable enough to stumble over their words. “Just making conversation? Did he touch you, dear?” Coriolanus asked. The punishment for touching her would be losing a hand or two. The fellow made a decent drink. She didn’t want him to lose that gift.

[Y/N] sniffled, tugging at Coriolanus’ heartstrings. “No,” sniffle. “He was only running his mouth. He thinks I sh-shouldn’t have married you.”

Coriolanus dragged his blue eyes between [Y/N] and Brutus. “Why shouldn’t we be married?” Coriolanus asked too easily. It was a trap. Brutus shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. “No, please, go ahead. I’m just making conversation. What was it that you said to my wife, here? I’m curious now.”

There was silence. Brutus hung his head uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Sir. [Y/N] knew Coriolanus would like that.

“Jealous? Think you could please my wife better than I could? Am I on the right track?” Coriolanus leaned down to press his lips against weeping [Y/N]’s neck from behind as he spoke to Brutus.

Drunk and dumb from the stress, the alcohol and his touch, [Y/N] reached her hand up to tangle it into Coriolanus’s curls. He didn’t protest for once. Her fingers cut through his hair product and lodged in place, giving his hair a gentle tug. “How’s this for you?” Coriolanus murmured, staring at Brutus and touching [Y/N] disgustingly.

[Y/N] wasn’t sure if it lasted minutes or hours, staring the bartender down like that. Coriolanus pulled her into the lobby and up the stairs to their hotel room. She couldn’t remember exactly if Coriolanus had made the two of them say a proper goodnight to the remaining party attendees. She still had her shoes on, so she would settle for being impressed with herself for that.

Coriolanus unlocked the door to their room and propped it open with some difficulty.

“What are you doing?” She asked tiredly.

“Well, Mrs. Snow, you went on about so many little traditions this week, so I figured I would gift you this.” Coriolanus scooped [Y/N] clumsily into his arms and carried her over the threshold of the room. [Y/N] smiled at his gesture.

Coriolanus walked with her in his grasp until he set her down on the bed with a muted thump. He turned back to the door and closed it. [Y/N] stared up at Coriolanus as he returned. The jacket of his tux and his red shoes had vanished on his walk back.

[Y/N] was quite surprised that Coriolanus had remained in what seemed to be such a decent mood for him all day. The smile or smirk or snarl still lingered on his plush mouth. “Hi.” [Y/N] said.

“Hello,” Coriolanus replied, cocking his head. “That dress really is something else,” he said. His eyes wandered grotesquely over her body. “What did your family think?”

“Barely saw my mother. She was at the bottom of a bottle of posca. Father thought my corset was too loose.” She wiped the remaining wet spots from tears off of her cheeks.

Coriolanus nodded knowingly. “Ah, so you can follow instructions. It was him that locked you in that thing…” his eyes hadn’t moved from her breasts which threatened to spill from her top from laying at this angle. “May I help you out of it?”

She blushed red. “The note you left…” [Y/N] started. “Sweet, by the way. How did you know it was corseted. Did you peek?” She slurred.

“Lucky guess,” Coriolanus said too quickly for the remark to be truthful. “Do me a favor and obey your husband. Turn over. I want it off.”

[Y/N] popped off her memorable red heels and rolled gracelessly onto her stomach so that Coriolanus could undress her how he liked. He crept onto the bed and straddled her thighs with some difficulty from the dress’ bulk. His fingers got to work with the silk cord. [Y/N]’s ability to take low, full breaths increased with each movement of his nimble fingers. “Coryo, what’ll happen to that man from the bar…” [Y/N] quietly.

“That’s none of your concern. He’ll be dealt with for the way he spoke to you, don’t worry,” Coriolanus said, undoing the buttons of her dress now. “No one’s going to get away with speaking to my wife like that. Not now, not ever,” My wife, not you. Because he loved her and they were eternally bound. Or because she was an extension of his existence— nobody talked to him like that. Coriolanus manipulated her body like a doll to get her out of her wedding dress until she was down to her snow white lingerie and garters. “Fuck.” He said at the sight with eyes as wide as saucers.

“It’s adequate?”

“More than adequate,” In an instant, Coriolanus was on her. He was unclipping her garters and pulling her dampened lacy panties down. “You’ve outdone yourself, Mrs. Snow.”

“Fuck me. Please. Really. Not just fingers, or something.”

“Hm,” Coriolanus started. “I should marry you more often.”

Coriolanus pulled off his own trousers and boxers without complaint. [Y/N] sighed happily. “Tell me you love me.” She said.

“What?”

“I don’t care if you don’t mean it. Tell me you love me.” She stressed. [Y/N] wanted the silhouette of a normal wedding night even if it wasn’t one.

Coriolanus said his I love yous while he expertly rubbed [Y/N] clit, who cares if he was sincere or not. Neither one of them knew if he was sincere or not and either would do well enough.

The sex, however, was anything but transactional.

By the look of it, Coriolanus had long been hard in his pants. [Y/N] knew exerting some sort of power over that man at the bar in her honor would have gotten him all riled up. After noticing [Y/N] was already shockingly wet, he pressed his hands into the pillows beside her head and pushed his cock into her easily. “Damn. You’re so wet,” he grunted. Coriolanus scrunched his blue eyes shut. He began to set a pace; much slower than he normally would, less brutal too. He was gentle. Almost. Completely gentle was not a setting he came equipped with.

Coriolanus had never fucked [Y/N] without protection before (that [Y/N] could remember, at least). She made no move to stop him. They didn’t have any barriers left to worry about since they were married. Both silently agreed to never go back. He felt so much better in her this way.

[Y/N] moaned when his right hand moved between them to keep stimulating her. “Good, that’s good,” She said, reaching up to grip his shoulders. Her hands crept further up to grab his hair. She loved his hair, even if he fought hard against her about it so often. “Is this good for you?” [Y/N] whispered.

Coriolanus snapped his icy eyes open and plunged his head into her cleavage in reply. The lacy bra she wore was in his way, even if he thought it did [Y/N] beautiful favors. With one hand and his teeth, he ripped the bra right down the middle. “Better now,” he smirked darkly. Coriolanus slid one of her nipples past his lips. Coriolanus could conduct her moans and pants like a symphony. He knew exactly how to get his most desire response out of her. Coriolanus fucked and rubbed faster, but resisted sliding a hand around her throat and squeezing. At least for the first round as a married couple.

She could get used to the soft way he touched her. Mr. and Mrs. Snow. This caring front felt like it could almost last forever to [Y/N]. Too bad it was a front. She let out a high breathy gasp. The sound she knew he liked best.

Coriolanus was glad they had no plans tomorrow. One more sound like that and his hand would have no choice but to squeeze around her windpipe. She was always so beautiful like that. He changed his mind from weeks before as he looked at her from sucking at her nipples.

This is how he wanted to remember his Mrs. Snow. Makeup dripping, moaning beyond control, eyes rolled back and ripped and fucked out of her dress and lingerie. Because only he could make her feel like that for the rest of her life.

“I love you.” [Y/N] breathed, but she didn’t mean it, not really.

“I love you too.”

It was almost the truth.

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely @wotcherpeak @24kmar @kaealowri @weeeoosworld @dilucpegg3r @bai-wuxiangs-mask @kisstheskin

as always, apologies for the tags that did not work. love you all.

[elliewritesfantasy]

Escape in the Night

A/N: I never thought I would be posting fanfiction on this account. However, Baldur’s Gate has captured my attention and my inspiration for months now. I don’t even know if anyone will see this, but I enjoyed writing it, and that’s all that matters.

Some protective dadstarion for you all. And strong boss Tav. Female Tav x Astarion.

Snow fell in great white clumps, blanketing the forest in an eerie silence. Cold crept up your fingers, reaching further with every moment that passed. You remained crouched under the boughs of an old maple tree, the bare branches leaning under the weight of the snowfall. You were burdened with your own weight; a greatsword hung between your shoulder blades, a relic of your paladin oath long forgotten among other worries, and a bundle against your chest. It was the one spot of true warmth on this winter night. Your baby. Astarion’s baby.

Armelle.

Boots shifted, crunching snow and dirt.

“Astarion?” His name was barely a puff of air from your mouth.

“I’m here.” He appeared next to you, and knelt. His silver hair shone even on this starless night, a mess of curls barely tamed. His eyes searched your face, his hands clenched around his longbow.

“Where are the vampires?” you asked.

“They’re close. I need to get you out of here.” Astarion placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you to your feet. “I’ve lost a lot of my vampiric senses, but not all.”

“I wish they would see reason.”

“I know.”

You had found a wish scroll for him long ago, as part of your promise after the defeat of the netherbrain. The wish scroll brought him not only the cure for him vampirism, but the promise of a wide open future free of having to hide in the dark. It brought him hope and the freedom to finally say that he could marry you without feeling like he had trapped you in a vampire’s nest for life. And it had brought him his second-most precious gift of all - the wrapped child you clutched with the strength of a mother’s fierce love.

The vampires didn’t know Astarion was cured. They thought he had sired a dhampir, the offspring of a vampire and a powerful being with hungers rarely fully sated. A dhampir would be an asset to their coven, and they wasted no time in searching you out in the two weeks you have had her. You hadn’t meant to have your baby on the way to Waterdeep for a companions’ reunion. She was early. A surprise. But you were already so far from home, it wasn’t worth it to turn back.

Maybe that was a mistake.

“Y/N.” Astarion broke you from your thoughts. “Waterdeep isn’t far. If you run, you can make it while I hold them off.”

“I can’t leave you.” Your soul burned with your paladin’s oath, and your hands itched to strike the vampires down with all of your holy might.

“Just for a second. I’ll meet you there I promise,” Astarion said. His lips lifted in his slightly crooked smile. “If we can survive the Absolute and the attempted end of the world, we can survive this.”

You steeled your nerves, drinking in his familiar confident expression, though it wavered just a bit as the bundle on your chest let out a small, sleepy whine. “Alright”

“I can smell you. I can smell her.” The crooning voice of the vampire master Kazimir cut through the dampened night. Your heart quickened.

“Run.” Astarion notched an arrow, his breath coming in quick, clouded puffs. “Run!”

You didn’t hesitate. Your boots dug into the snow, into the frozen mud and you sprinted with all of the strength left in your body. The lights of Waterdeep twinkled on the horizon. It wasn’t much farther. You could make it.

“Ah, not so fast.”

You skidded to a stop, your throat lurching with fear. Kazimir stood before you, red eyes shining with glee.

“I can’t let you go, not with that creature you have.”

“She’s not a creature,” you growled. You drew your greatsword.

“Oh, but she is. And what a delicious creature she would be to have. She should be raised by a real vampire, not a pithy elf and a weak spawn.” He drew his own blade, a wicked sharp rapier. “Hand her to me peacefully, and I will let you return to your spawn without fuss.”

“No.” You swung your greatsword in an arc, poised to strike.

“A shame. Then I will have to take her from you.” Kazimir lunged forward, blade catching on the woolen edge of your wrap. You lurched back, narrowly escaping his rapier. You raised your sword, letting the anger in your stomach explode outward, lighting the weapon with a golden light. The vampire hissed and shrunk back instinctually at the light. With a cry, you leaped forward, bringing your sword down in a blazing arc. The vampire recovered just in time, spinning out of the way of your smite, his cloak billowing out behind him. He vanished among the trees, flitting between them like a ghost. You reeled, then recovered, and grounded yourself in the snow. You had to be ready.

Your eyes searched the darkness desperately, your eyes struggling to perceive anything beyond the falling snow.

“Behind you!” Astarion ran from the trees, an arrow whistling through the air. It found its mark in the shoulder of the master vampire. He screamed, turning from you to Astarion.

A blast of blue light blinded you all in an instant. A dimension door appeared just to your left with a familiar hand reaching through it.

“Gale!”

“Come with me,” Gale emerged wholly, his hair whipping in the wind of the portal. “Quickly!”

“But, Astarion-“ you looked back the silver elf now fighting Kazimir with his dagger, locked in an expert hand-to-hand battle.

“You have something more important to think about now, eh?” Gale gestured to you once again. You closed your eyes tight, sheathing your weapon. With one last glance at Astarion, you let Gale pull you through the gate and into the candlelit drawing room of his tower.

Shadowheart was the first to run to you. “Y/N, what happened?”

You couldn’t answer, your body wracked with violent shudders and shakes. Some of it was from the cold, some from the fear that made your very soul twist. Shadowheart wrapped you in a blanket. Through a tendril of consciousness, you managed to pull aside your wrap to check on your baby. You collapsed into a chair at the sight of her, eyes still closed, asleep. Safe.

“I’m going back for him.” Gale began furiously searching for a scroll through the precarious stacks upon his end tables.

Shadowheart laid a hand on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t risk it. What if the vampire comes through this time?”

Gale shook his head. “I can’t leave him to that master. I remember how strong Cazador was.”

“We have to trust him,” Shadowheart argued.

You could only sit, your arms holding your baby to you, her head cradled in your hands. A prayer of safety rang through your mind again and again. You had been a thirty minute run from Waterdeep before, and with the fight, maybe it would take him an hour.

“Please, I need you,” you whispered. Gale and Shadowheart retreated, letting you hold your child and warm by the fire while your brain was wracked with thoughts.

Please. Please.

I should have stayed.

Please.

The door to the drawing room burst open. You ran to it immediately, blood rushing in your ears.

“I’m here.”

“Astarion.”

He was here, his armor streaked bright red with blood. His hair was clumped with gore, and a cut on his cheek shone. He drank your face in hungrily, then reached for the woolen wrap, pushing it aside to reveal the perfect girl curled at your chest, her fine, newborn-soft silver hair glowing in the candlelight. Astarion placed a hand on her head, giving her a soft kiss right above her brow. He pressed his forehead against yours, tucking you both into his chest.

Even years after his cure, the feeling of his body warmth was novel. You soaked it in.

“He’s dead,” Astarion said. He twined a hand through your hair, pressing you into his shoulder. “He will never bother us again.”

“I can’t believe you killed him.” You drew back, studying his face.

Astarion laughed, his brows crinkling. “What, you doubted me? Hero of the world, slayer of the netherbrain?”

“You know it was my sword that landed the final strike,” you teased.

Armelle stirred, drawing Astarion’s attention. Oh, how much he had changed. From only being able to care about his own survival, to dedicating his whole existence to the survival of two others. It scared him more than the impending end of existence did.

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” He traced Armelle’s rounded, flushed cheeks, taking in the hair that matched his own, the nose that matched yours. “I have everything that I need right here.”

[kkcauseway]

Scrubs Up

No outbreak!Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: 1.4k of pure fluff… it’s just Joel being stupidly cute shaving your legs in the bath, he’s just so fucking cute. Content/warnings: so much flufffff! Joel miller being completely unsubtle, but also being the most doting husband.🫶🏻 no use of y/n, no outbreak.

Main masterlist I Wedding day fluff I Drunk reader fluff

You’re completely at peace in your rose scented bubble blanket. Joel ran you the most amazing bath for when you made it home from work, because as per usual the man knows what you need before you even know you need it yourself. Your boss has been unnecessarily harsh lately, and after calling him on your lunch break and breaking down for the second time this week, he knew he needed to do something to help get your mind off it once you made it home. He even lit all your favourite candles and sat them on the sink, so you were hit with vanilla when you walked into the room- it was a more than necessary amount, but you love him so much for it.

You’re resting in the perfect warm water, eyes closed with you so at peace with finally able to forget about your shitty day and instead you reminisce on your wonderful life with Joel. How amazing he makes you feel and how cute he is for running the bath for you and for ordering Chinese takeout- your favourite.

A knock at the bathroom door draws your attention away from your thoughts. On opening your eyes you’re met with your husband’s gaze as he peers his head round the door smiling at you before walking in and shutting the door behind him. “Hey baby” he utters.

“Hi” you smile at him so happy. Admiring his frame, his messy curly hair that’s just that bit too long, but you find it absolutely perfect and so he won’t cut it, the white t shirt he’s wearing slightly too tight on his biceps, dark blue jeans that hug him just right and feet bare.

When he moves towards you brining over a storage box and sits right at the side of the bath you can’t help but giggle. “What the heck are you doin’?”

“I got bored.”

You laugh “bored?”

“I missed you” he puts that adorable pouty face on that you fell for as he shrugs.

“Baby I’ve been gone like twenty minutes” you kick your legs under the water toes quickly popping out before hiding amongst the bubbles again; he can’t help but stare “s’too long, so v’brought my book in” he holds it up with a smug smile on his face “and m’gonna sit with my baby keep her company.”

“Cutie, but since when do you read?”

He leans over to kiss you briefly “I read plenty thanks” before making himself comfortable sitting back with a groan. You can’t help but stare as he opens his book up and licks his finger in order to turn the page. You just lie back watching for a moment as this man stays fully ‘engrossed’ in his book.

“Is it good?” You quiz playfully into the silence.

“Uhu, yeah great.” It’s the most unenthusiastic response as he licks his finger again and turns the page.

Laughing you add “you know the books upside down, right?”

“Oh, is it?” He peers over the top, chuckling, his eyes unmoving from yours as he turns it the right way. “Ooops, guess I was distracted.”

“Hmmm, anyone would think you drew me this bath just so you could come and perv on me.” You chuckle and the smug look that plasters his face gives you your answer immediately, but he gasps playfully “that’s outrageous.”

You shake your head before throwing it back on a full belly laugh, you couldn’t love him more if you tried. With that he then looks back to the words on the page seemingly engrossed on whatever he’s reading, so you get back to bathing yourself.

When you pick up your razor and lift your left leg to rest on the side of the bath his eyes pop up over the book. You pretend not to notice shaving away, but it isn’t long till his gaze burns. You run the razor along your leg a few more times before chuckling. Turning to look his way his cheeks begin staining red- he knows he’s caught. “If you’re gonna stare the least you could do is offer to do it for me” you jest before laughing again your breasts popping out of the water as you do.

He licks his lips at the sight before shrugging “I’ll do it for yah.”

“You will?”

You didn’t expect that kind of a response from him.

“Course” he closes and puts the book down on the floor before moving his makeshift seat over so he can reach your leg easily.

“This one’s done” you put the leg back into the water “but she’s all yours” you giggle lifting your right leg out. He takes it into his grasp running his large palm up and down the length of it before clasping your foot “you painted ‘em again.” You hum in response as he admires the baby blue polish on your toes. Gently brushing his thumb over the polish on your big toe.

You love that about him, he notices everything, every slight change.

That one hand keeps hold of your foot as he takes the razor from you with the other “now hold still” he urges.

You nod “yes sir,” completely engrossed in the fact he’s actually going to do this for you. You watch intently as he sticks his tongue between his lips and gently runs the razor along your leg in soft, even strokes. It tickles, sending goosebumps to your entire body. How is it possible that him doing something as simple as shaving your leg makes you horny? It’s the intimacy of it, leg hair could be embarrassing, with anyone else you know it would be, but with Joel, he’s always made you feel so beautiful no matter what that it’s normal. You could stay in this moment forever. Every touch is so meaningful, so full of love.

Each glide of the razor is done with so much care. And you can tell he’s enjoying himself the smirk plastered on his face grows as he shaves, and you moan at how much it tickles.

When finished he places the razor back down and you expect he will just drop your leg, but he doesn’t. He rinses it off by cupping some water into his palm and lets it fall over your leg and then he leans down to place the most delicate kiss on your foot, you can’t help but moan. This continues all the way up the side of your leg he kisses, nibbles and licks till he reaches the crease in your knee.

“I love you” he mumbles into the skin there.

“I love you too.” You squeak out, breathless from the moment.

As he pulls his face away from your leg, he gently drops it back into the water “y’ready t’get out now?”

You hum in response, looking up to him with slightly hooded eyes. You could get out yourself you know full well, but you like him doting on you, so instead you make grabby hands at him and force him to help pull you up. He keeps one of your hands in his to help you climb onto the bathmat. He stands with you moving the box out of the way before grabbing your towel and wrapping it around your body, cuddling you close. “Mmmm, you smell like strawberries” he grumbles.

“Your favourite right?” You look up at him with a smile.

He’s always been obsessed with your hair since you first met, the first time you kissed he’d grabbed the back of your head and pulled you to him as your tongues danced with one another. As he pulled away, he placed a delicate kiss to your forehead which is when he first got hit with the strawberry smell. Funnily enough it was the first time you’d used it, and ever since then it’s the only one you’ll use. It binds you together, it’s important, a part of your story, one you hope never to forget. Now all he ever wants to do is bury his face into your hair as he breathes in the strawberry scent. He says it’s one of the things he loves most about you, strawberries.

He meets your eyes with a cheeky smile “anythin’ n’everythin’ to do with you is my favourite gorgeous girl.” And with that he kisses you. “Now come on Chinese will be here soon gotta make sure you’re comfy in bed before it gets here.”

He melts your heart, loving him more is impossible.

Main masterlist I wedding day fluff I drunk reader fluff

[dreamscribee]

💎A Night of Forever💎

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿︵︵‿ ︵ ‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿

ღ Anthony Bridgerton x female reader (18+ sligth smut part at the end)

ღ Here's Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. To fully immerse yourself in this enchanting love story, I encourage you to start from the beginning. Enjoy the journey!

ღ Sumarry: Y/N and Anthony's wedding day is a joyous celebration of their love. After heartfelt vows and a lively reception, they share a deeply intimate and passionate first night together as a married couple, marking the beginning of their life of happiness and love.

ღ word count: 661 (words), 3,736 (chacters)

ღ Thank you so much for all the love on this series! This will be the conclusion, but I wanted to give you a little something before Season 3 comes out tomorrow. I hope you've enjoyed reading and escaping reality for a bit. I can't wait to create more short stories like this one for you. Just a small heads-up: since this final chapter is romantic, it’s rated 18+ for the slight smut part at the end. Enjoy!

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿︵︵‿ ︵ ‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿

The day of Y/N and Anthony's wedding dawned bright and clear, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the grand estate. The gardens were in full bloom, their vibrant colors mirrored in the smiles and laughter of the guests who had gathered to witness the union of two hearts bound by love.

Y/N stood in her dressing room, surrounded by her closest friends and family. Her wedding gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin, hugged her figure gracefully, the train flowing behind her like a river of moonlight. She took a deep breath, her heart fluttering with a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As the ceremony began, Y/N felt a calm wash over her. The chapel was adorned with fragrant blooms, the air filled with the soft hum of anticipation. When the doors opened, and she began her walk down the aisle, her eyes immediately locked with Anthony's. He stood at the altar, looking more handsome than ever in his tailored suit, his eyes brimming with love and awe.

The vows they exchanged were heartfelt and sincere, each word a promise of eternal devotion. When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Anthony's kiss was tender yet passionate, a seal of their love that drew cheers and applause from their guests.

The reception was a joyous celebration, filled with dancing, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. But as the night wore on, Y/N and Anthony found themselves stealing glances at each other, their hearts longing for the moment they would be alone.

As the last guests departed, the newlyweds made their way to the bridal suite, their hands entwined. The room was a haven of romance, lit by the soft glow of candlelight and adorned with rose petals scattered across the bed.

Anthony turned to Y/N, his eyes dark with desire. "You are a vision, my love," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "I've dreamed of this moment for so long."

Y/N's breath hitched as she looked up at him, her heart racing. "And I, you," she replied softly, her voice trembling with anticipation.

With a gentle touch, Anthony began to undress her, his fingers moving with reverence and care. Each piece of clothing that fell away brought them closer, the air between them charged with an electric tension.

When Y/N stood before him, clad only in her delicate undergarments, Anthony paused, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. "You are breathtaking," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

He closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. As their tongues intertwined, Y/N felt a heat ignite within her, a longing that had been building since the moment they first met.

Anthony's hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and hollow, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When he finally lifted her and laid her on the bed, Y/N's body was aflame with desire.

Their lovemaking was a dance of passion and tenderness, each touch, each kiss a testament to the love they shared. Anthony's movements were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Y/N's as he brought her to the peak of pleasure again and again.

In the quiet aftermath, they lay entwined, their bodies glistening with the sweat of their shared passion. Anthony brushed a strand of hair from Y/N's face, his eyes filled with a love so deep it took her breath away.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "More than words can ever express."

Y/N smiled, her heart overflowing with happiness. "And I love you, Anthony," she replied, her voice a soft melody. "Forever and always."

As they drifted into a peaceful slumber, their bodies still intertwined, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of their love and the promise of a lifetime of happiness together.

[verrixstudios]

Treasure Planet X Wings of Fire

Here’s some smaller screenshots with movie screenshots in them as well. Keep in mind I drew all of this after the watching movie I wasn’t really using references so it’s not like they’re a bajillion percent accurate

I drew all of this while listening to Epic the musical, and it was on the last song for Mr Arrow and bones, which is why they aren’t the same detail

[ID: (in order of the singular images) 6 wings of Fire dragon references and two headshots, all digitally sketched in a red pencil-like brush. Each dragon is heavily referenced off some characters from the show Treasure Planet. Bedside each dragon is written the character they’re based on and the Wof tribe the dragon design is also based on. Each singular image has the dragon, it’s info, and an image of the character it’s based on.

The first dragon is a heavy set MudWing based on John Silver. His right legs and wing are mechanical, heavily based on the cyborg parts of the movie character. His wings are semi spread, held above him but curved so that they aren’t fully spread. He wears a captains hat that looks small on his head and has a large tail that has a scarred end, as if it were cut off at the very end. A small hoop earring is on his short ear, and his horns seem to have been sawed off halfway, given a flat cap over the end of them.

The second is a much thinner and lankier dragon based on Captain Amelia. She is listed as a hybrid of an icewing and a sandwing. Her wings are folded at her sides, showing off the frill had follows along her spine. It breaks apart in some areas, becoming small quills behind her head and neck and on the end of her tail. Her head is thinner, with sharp ears perked upward. A larger captains hat stands on her head.

The third dragon is another Mudwing based on Dr. Delbert Doppler. He is dwarfed by Silver, despite being the same tribe. His stance is less wide than Silver, though he also has a blockier head and shape. his wings are semi folded in the same way, though tilted a little upward. He has small glasses on his face and darker spikes and horns along his face and the back of his neck. Ears are rounded and folded over halfway.

The fourth image has two dragons which seem to be arguing. Furthest from the screen is a huge but lanky Sandwing. Based on the antagonist Mr. Scroop. His wings are outspread and the membranes are shown to be in tatters. A talon is outstretched toward the screen, curled like he were preparing to hit the smaller dragon in front of him. His face is thin but showing a wicked snarl, long horns jutting outwards opposite of his snout. A spiky frill lines the back of his head and down his spine. His ribcage is a pronounced shape, not in the way that he’s starving but to show how thin and lanky he is. His tail curls behind his feet and points its scorpion like barb directly at the chin of the other dragon. The other dragon is nearly half his height, facing toward Scroop and away from the screen, face in an open snarl with his ears pinned backwards. He is a Nightwing Skying hybrid based on the protagonist, Jim Hawkins. His wings are touching the grounds at his sides and the ends folded upwards. Spikes line his spine from neck to tail, which curls around him like it was mid-flick.

The fifth image is a side profile headshot of an old and thin looking Seawing based on the old and dying character, Bones. He has an underbite, large webbed frills along his head and spine, and catfish-like whiskers on his chin. small sharp teeth are visible on his closed mouth, and his horns look to be broken off.

The sixth image is a 3/4ths headshot of a thicker Nightwing with a wide nose and chin based on Mr. Arrow. His face his scrunched in what looks like a grimace. He has short but big horns, and spikes that stick out from his spine along his neck. A thick captains hat sits on his head.

The final image is a full body reference of a robot made to look like a rainwing. He is based on B.E.N. He is 3/4ths facing the screen in a sitting position, with a wide mouth open in a grin. Mechanical frills on either side of his head are open wide. His winds are semi open and pointed outward on either side, showing that they have minimal ‘membrane’ as if he wasn’t built for flying. His chest has a circle in it, which resembles the broken compass the character has in his own chest.

End ID]

Woaaah that was a lot of writing 😂

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Please, I Need You

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of Suicide, Mentions of cutting, attempted suicide

A/N: If you can relate to this fic or feel like this please message me, my DMs and Inbox are open.

The spotlight had always been something I avoided. I liked my privacy, cherished the simple moments with my friends and family, and drew strength from the quiet, familiar spaces that made me feel safe. But when I started dating Lando Norris, all of that changed.

Overnight, I went from being a nobody to having millions of eyes on me, every move scrutinized, every word dissected.

At first, it was overwhelming but manageable. The praise from Lando's fans was a wave of positivity that buoyed me up. They celebrated our relationship, showering me with love and admiration that I had never experienced before. But lurking beneath the surface were the negative comments, the hate from those who claimed to be Lando's true fans. Their words cut deep, exacerbating insecurities I had carried long before l met him.

"You don't deserve Lando."

"You're just using him for fame."

"Lando's mine, and he'll never love you."

Each comment was a dagger, but none hurt more than the one that dredged up my most painful memory: "Go kill yourself like your twin sister did. Lando's mine, and he'll never love you."

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt like I was drowning. My twin sister, Emily, had taken her own life years ago after relentless bullying. I had always blamed myself for not being able to save her. The pain of her loss was a wound that never fully healed, and now, this cruel comment tore it wide open.

I stumbled to the bathroom, my vision blurred by tears. Locking the door behind me, I collapsed onto blade in the cabinet and held it in my trembling hands. My heart pounded as I pressed the sharp edge against my wrist, closing my eyes against the onslaught of memories and emotions.

"Lando," | whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

In the living room, Lando was scrolling through his phone, a strange feeling of unease settling in his gut. He got up and walked towards the bathroom, knocking softly on the door. When there was no response, he pushed it open and froze.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of fear and desperation. "What are you doing? Please, put the razor down."

I looked up, my eyes filled with pain

and confusion. "Lando, I can't... I just can't do this anymore."

Lando took a step closer, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "Please, just talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

As he inched closer, I lowered the razor slightly, the sharp edge still pressed against my skin. "I can't... I couldn't save her, Lando. My twin sister... she was bullied, and I couldn't save her."

Lando's face crumpled in anguish.

"Y/N, I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

Tears streamed down my face as I continued, "Someone found out and told me to kill myself like she did.

They said you'd never love me."

Lando's eyes filled with tears as he reached out to me. "Y/N, I love you more than anything. Those people aren't real fans. Real fans would be happy for us, not tearing you down."

My grip on the razor weakened, and I finally let it drop to the floor. Lando rushed forward, wrapping me in his arms. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this together."

In the days that followed, Lando helped me find the professional help I desperately needed. He stayed by my side, offering constant love and support. But he knew he had to do more.

One evening, I watched as Lando went live on Instagram. His face was a mix of anger and heartbreak as he addressed his followers.

"I've always considered my fans to be part of my family," he began, his voice shaking. "But today, I'm disappointed and heartbroken.

Someone out there thought it was okay to tell my girlfriend to kill herself because of her past. That is not okay."

He paused, tears welling up in his eyes. "Y/N tried to take her life because of those hateful words.

She's getting the help she needs now, but I won't stand for this. If you truly care about me, you'll support her and stop the hate. To the person who made that disgusting comment, I will be taking legal action. No one should ever go through what Y/N has."

Lando's outpouring of emotion resonated with his fans, and messages of support flooded in for me. The community rallied around us, showing the love and kindness I so desperately needed.

But despite the outpouring of support, the darkness still lingered.

Nights were the hardest. I often woke up in a cold sweat, the haunting memories of Emily's last moments replaying in my mind. I remembered her smile, the way she would light up a room, and the sound of her laughter. I remembered the day I found her, the lifelessness in her eyes, and the crushing realization that I had lost her forever.

Lando never left my side during those sleepless nights. He held me close, whispering words of love and reassurance, his presence a constant reminder that I wasn't alone. He made sure I attended every therapy session, even if it meant rearranging his busy schedule. He was my rock, my anchor in the storm.

One particularly bad night, I found myself unable to breathe, the weight of my guilt suffocating me. I sat on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands, tears streaming down my face.

"Lando, I don't know if I can do this," I choked out. "I miss her so much. I should have saved her."

Lando knelt in front of me, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "Y/N, you can't blame yourself for what happened to Emily. You did everything you could. She wouldn't want you to carry this guilt."

"But I feel so lost without her," | whispered, my voice breaking.

Lando took my hands in his, his grip firm yet gentle. "You're not alone, Y/

N. You have me, and you have so many people who love you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

Through the darkness, there were moments of light. Slowly, I began to heal, finding strength in Lando's unwavering support and the kindness of those around us. I learned to forgive myself, to let go of the guilt that had weighed me down for so long.

One day, as I sat in a quiet park, the sun warming my face, I realized that I could finally breathe again. The pain of losing Emily would never fully disappear, but I had found a way to live with it. I had found a way to honor her memory by choosing to live, by choosing to love and be loved.

And as Lando wrapped his arms around me, whispering words of love and reassurance, I knew that we would face whatever came our way, together.

---------

Again, if you feel this way, please reach out.

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi i @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[grandeoatmilklatte]

Fellow oat-and-omi-lover,

I have a request. It's loosely thought out and entirely up to you for interpretation.

But basically, I'd love to see a very touch-starved Ominis (you know, never been hugged or kissed in his family, the other students are wary of him, his only touchy friend was Sebastian and that's gotten tense recently) with a touch-shy MC.

Ominis is so tactile, and his main experience with close friends (the twins) is something MC is just... incredibly skittish about for whatever reason. Like he grew up having them grab his hand or sling an arm around his shoulder or greeted him with hugs, and now he's just got this singular friend available to him and there's so much adjustment on both sides???

He takes their hand to show them something, and they just freeze or startle or something? And somehow, this is reconciled? I'm a sucker for romance as well.

I DON'T KNOW!

Basically touchy Omi and big personal space bubble MC in whatever capacity strikes you.

Maybe.

If you want!

I love you, and thank you for reading my request. 😭💖

@applinsandoranges my love!! I tweaked your idea a bit and turned touchy Omi and touch nervous MC into a brand new couple and made this short little one shot from there! I hope I made you proud!

Getting To Know You In A New Way ❤️ - (Ominis Gaunt x F!MC)

Warnings: Fluff! || Slight NSFW (brief mention of touching) || mention of Sebastian slipping Ominis some liquid courage potion to ask a girl out || characters are 18 and in their seventh year || implications of trauma || aversion to touch || some negative self talk from MC || (1346 words)

Ominis loved everything about his girlfriend. He loved her from the moment he met her in fifth year, long before she even was his girlfriend. Her kind and gentle nature towards him, despite his lineage, and her alignment with wanting to pull Sebastian away from the Dark Arts drew him to her. As time went on, his love for her only grew stronger, reaching a peak during the first week of their seventh year. After being slipped some liquid courage in his morning tea, courtesy of Sebastian, the boy confessed his feelings for the girl, feelings which were thankfully returned by her. After years of pining, they were finally a couple, and he loved everything about her. But there was one small problem.

Early on in the relationship, Ominis discovered she had a severe aversion to being touched, something he somehow never picked up on in their time as friends. Her aversion was so severe that he wasn’t even allowed to hold her hand for more than a few minutes before she’d pull away, although she did allow him to kiss her, but only with brief pecks on her lips. 

It wasn’t a matter of her being ashamed of Ominis, this theory being easily debunked by the way she gushed about “my boyfriend, Omins” to anyone who would listen, their frequent dates, and her general love of being in his presence. She was just exclusively afraid of physical contact. Ominis never pushed for an explanation, feeling like it was still too early in the relationship to do so. Although he knew from the early days of their friendship that she didn’t have the best upbringing, growing up in an unaffectionate home, something Ominis was all too familiar with. 

Her aversion to touch created some difficulties for Ominis, his own love language being physical touch. He was desperate to feel the skin he couldn’t see, to know her in a new way, and he cursed anyone and everything that hurt her in life that created this trauma response. But nevertheless, he accepted her fully, never pressuring her, or touching her without her consent, hoping that there would come a day where his love and support could heal her. 

—

It had been a particularly rough week for the two of them, having been partnered and assigned an enormous project for their History of Magic class. They had spent countless hours in the library working on this project, and were incredibly nervous about their grade, grades being exceptionally important in their final year of school. Upon receiving their project back, they refrained from checking their grade until they had a moment alone together in The Undercroft, wanting to either celebrate their passing grade together or wallow in sorrow at their failing grade together. When they opened their stack of parchments to see a passing score, she pulled Ominis into a rare, but absolutely welcomed embrace. Ominis inhaled deeply, the smell of her hair flooding his nose and making his heart flutter. He felt her body begin to pull away, wishing the moment could have been longer. But as soon as she pulled away, she leaned right back in, hands coming up to hold his face as she kissed him. 

When she didn’t immediately pull away, Ominis kissed her back, deepening the kiss, but reminding himself to keep his hands away from her. His mind was racing, reveling in the intimacy. But his thoughts were halted and his mind went completely blank when she slowly worked her tongue past his lips. Ominis had completely forgotten his note to self, bringing his hands to rest on her hips as his tongue mingled with hers. She let out a squeak against his lips, but continued to kiss him for another few seconds before she quickly pulled away from Ominis, breathing heavily as she caught her breath.

“I…I’m so sorry…” Her voice was small and sad, and it was clear to Ominis that she was on the verge of tears. He couldn’t make sense of her sadness, realizing that he should be the one apologizing, not her. 

“No, darling, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like to be touched. I got carried away. It won’t-”

“No. It’s not you, it's me. I’m sorry I’m such an awful girlfriend. My boyfriend can’t even hold me without me panicking.” she had begun to cry, Ominis hearing the breaks in her words. “You deserve better than me. I’m so sorry.”

Ominis’s body reacted almost involuntarily as he immediately pulled her into his arms. He stroked her hair as he spoke, his heart shattering at her words.

“You are not an awful girlfriend. At all. Please don’t ever say that again. I love you, and it hurts to hear you say such things about yourself. Come, sit with me.”

Ominis led her over to the sofa they had placed in the corner of The Undercroft some time ago. He took hold of her hands once they were seated and he continued. 

“I know physical touch is hard for you. You grew up in a loveless home. I did too. Physical touch made me feel vulnerable, as I imagine it does for you as well. It used to scare me too. But once I got to Hogwarts and found myself with friends who love me, affection was no longer scary. I don’t want you to be afraid of affection. I want to help you heal from your pain. I want you to realize that you are worthy of love, and I want to be the one to love you. And, if I’m being honest, I would love nothing more than to be able to touch you, to feel you, to know your entire body inside and out. But I can be patient until you’re ready. Your comfort matters more to me than anything.”

Her tears were falling even harder now, but they were no longer tears of sadness. “Oh Ominis! What did I do to deserve a boyfriend as kind and understanding as you? I know I haven’t made things easy for you. I know it’s hard to not be able to touch me, especially with you not being able to see. But I want to get over this fear I have. I want to overcome this trauma, and I want to do it with your help. I love you, Ominis.”

She pulled him into another kiss, this kiss being softer than the first. Without breaking the kiss, she moved Ominis’s hands so that they could be wrapped around her waist before bringing her own arms around his neck. He could feel the tension melting from her body as they kissed. Already she was welcoming the idea of a more physical relationship with him. 

In a move that took Ominis by surprise, she began to lay back on to the couch, pulling Ominis down with her until he was lying on top of her. He had a moment of panic, unsure what to do, but as she began to kiss him with more passion in this new position, Ominis became the one with the tension melting from his body, adjusting so that they were both lying comfortably on the couch. 

Ominis slowly ran his hands up and down her arms, familiarizing himself with her skin, goosebumps forming in the wake of his touch. He then brought his hand up, his fingertips grazing her neck, which earned himself a soft moan. Finally, his hand came up to her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. Reluctantly, he pulled his lips away from hers to catch his breath, his thumb still stroking her cheek.

“That wasn’t so bad!” she said breathlessly. “I think I really like it when you touch me. I can’t wait for you to touch me more!”

There was a hint of sultriness to her words, which sent a tingle through Ominis’s body. He ignored it, knowing that there would be plenty of time to touch her that way later. For now, he was excited to get to know the love of his life in a new way.