#but it just wrote itself

[annegrey]

Two for the price of one

Kelly x fem!Reader x Max

Summary: While you loved both of them, Kelly was the only one you've slept with. And she wants to help you to finally enjoy Max' company. (I kinda suck at summaries.)

Let me know what you think! Without critisism one can't get better! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Your breath was labored, your hands were clutching the sheets to your sides, and there was a soft warmth along your back. A soft chuckle sounded, and a hand grabbed yours. You couldn’t be sure whose hand it was, with the blindfolds, but instead of making you even more nervous, they helped you calm down.

A soft kiss was placed on your neck, then your cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, he knows what to do. I trained him well”, Kelly whispered, and another chuckle sounded, this time from between your legs. “That she did.”

Knowing that Max saw you like that, all spread out and your most intimate parts right in front of his face, made you squirm. And with your right hand clutched in Kellys, you knew the soft touch on your right thigh was Max. And while you loved that man to bits, it still made you suck in a deep breath.

While he had been nothing but considerate, you have always been more nervous when it came to sex with men. You didn’t know why, but while you found men and women equally attractive, you felt more comfortable about yourself and those little flaws that made you human around other women. And Kelly had made it her mission to show you that you had nothing to fear from Max.

Because even though you have been in a relationship with both of them for quite some time, this was the first time Max was included in your erotic endeavors. Simply because you were too concerned with his judgement, which was completely ridiculous. He loved you, you knew that, but that didn’t shut that small voice in your head up.

So Kelly came up with an idea: you just didn’t see him. The solution was just as ridiculous as the problem, but it worked. After Kelly had tied the silk around your head, you had felt yourself relax more and more, the longer everything went on. Even when the second pair of hands and lips joined Kellys, you were able to concentrate on the feeling instead of your fears. You weren’t sure how or why it worked, but that didn’t matter.

 And even now, all spread out, all it needed was some kisses from Kelly on your neck and her free hand massaging your breast, and you were relaxing once again. Just to be surprised when you felt a tongue swipe through your folds. A moan was ripped from your throat, and you leaned your head on Kellys shoulder, sighing and whimpering while Max truly started to eat you out.

Two hands, slightly rough, grabbed your hips to keep you still, and only then you realised that you had pushing them towards Max’ face. Your unhappy huff just made your two lovers laugh, and Kelly kissed your cheek again, before her second hand joined her other with massaging your tits. It wasn’t the first time with her, so she knew exactly how to pinch and twist your nipples to make you keen and arch your back.

At the same time she was softly biting your neck, slowly working her way to that one spot that almost instantly made you come apart at your seams. While you were a moaner, making your pleasure known, tonight you were almost screaming with pleasure. Kelly knew exactly which spots to hit, and Max was really, really good at eating a woman out, so it didn’t take you long to feel your climax approach.

“I’m… I’m close”, you gasped, and both of them slowed down for a bit. “You think you got a second one in you? Do you need a break?”, Kelly asked, while one hand was slowly stroking your arm. This was one of the reasons you loved her. She was always so considerate and made sure you were on board with everything before acting. Just like she sat you down not long ago and explained her idea with the blindfold. And right now, she was asking, not truly if you wanted to cum, but if you wanted to continue afterwards. You took a few breaths, you owed it to her, to them, to think about this. And if you were honest��

You didn’t want to stop. You wanted them to make a crying mess out of you, until the silky blindfold was soaking wet and you were to exhausted to move even a finger. So you took another breath, swallowed, and whispered “No, make me cum. Please, I can take it. I need you. Both of you.”

“You’re such a good girl”, Kelly whispered, while Max just moaned and continued to eat you out as if you were his last meal. You gripped the sheets in your hands, not even sparing a thought of maybe ripping them with how hard you were pulling on them and bucked your hips against Max’ hold on them. Kelly even snuck a hand down to your pussy and started to rub your clit, causing your orgasm to crash over you. You didn’t even notice that one of your hands had grabbed Max’ hair and pulled him closer to your core while you rode out your climax.

Only when you were breathing hard, slowly coming down from your high, you felt someone carefully pulling it out. You mumbled a quiet sorry, but Max just kissed your knuckles. At the same time, you felt Kellys lips on your temple, and a hand on your blindfold. “What do you think, should we get rid of it?” You knew what she was asking. Were you feeling comfortable enough to look at Max for the remainder of the evening. Chewing on your lips for a bit, you nodded. “Yes, please.”

@amberpanda99 (told you I would inform you xD) @sassymillenialscorpio

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[willowser-but-nsfw]

and if i said incubus bakugou. what then.

because think about coming home after a long, infuriating day of work; you're tired, your back hurts, you're hungry, you're sick of being in these stinky work clothes — and all you want is a shower.

so you go to run yourself the hottest one known to man, tossing your clothes haphazardly on the floor because you're irritable and want to be a bit of a brat because you couldn't be one at work. you get all the way through washing your hair, are rinsing the soapy suds off your body when you're finally starting to calm down. thinking about what to eat for dinner, if you'll get that takeout you've been thinking about all week. you think you deserve it.

and then a heavy hand is banging against the glass of the shower.

"jesus christ!" you hiss, curving into yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked multiple times now. on the other side, bakugou is glaring at you, his own arms folded like the GROUCH that he is. "what the hell is wrong with you?"

he ignores the question. "y'gonna let me in?"

the sight of his stupidly handsome, supernatural face has you gritting your teeth, mouth twisting into a scowl as he yanks the door open anyway. "since when have you ever needed my permission to do anything?"

bakugou bares his little fangs, temper flaring like the black wings that threaten to stretch out behind him. you hope they don't; you're tired of having to pick up everything he knocks over. "hah?" he hisses, crowding you into one side of the shower because of how big he is. "don't act like you ain't been begging me to fuck—"

"alright!" you snap, cheeks heating. his own nose scrunches up — in disgust, maybe — and you can't stand to look at how horrifyingly beautiful he is, so you turn away. after a minute of awkward silence, with him just looming behind you, you ask, "have you figured out how i can get rid of you yet?"

several bottles clatter to the floor.

"you're the one that fuckin' summoned me here, brat—"

"and i was trying to summon up some goddamn money!" you turn to glare at him over your shoulder, eyes dipping down when you see his totally normal and equally as handsome human form, as he collects your shampoo and conditioner from the ground. "it was an accident."

"yeah," he grumbles, "so you've said."

you turn away again as he rises back to his full height — still otherworldly, despite his disguise. the deep red in his eyes always makes you shiver, both terrifying and oddly sexy. "well," you pout, though he can't see it. "don't act like you haven't been enjoying it, too."

"that's my whole point, shitty human!"

you're demon-handled around rather roughly, as is typical, and he's got you spun to face him, back pressed against the shower tile as he gets all in your face. his blonde hair is flat against his head, dark eyelashes heavy and sticking together, making his eyes seem that much bigger and brighter.

you take the chance to commit his face to memory; most of the time, you either can't keep your eyes open to look at him or don't want to, because he's so incredibly infuriating.

— but so up close, you see the deep, unhappy lines of his face, how far down his eyebrows arch. his lips tremble, just the slightest, in their frown.

"that's my whole fuckin' point," he tells you again, quietly. "'s'all 'm good for."

it's startling enough that you feel — bad. guilty, like you're taking advantage of him in some way, though it's always him that's appearing on his knees in your kitchen or waking you up in the middle of the night with his hand in your underwear. you feel like you should offer some kind of comfort to him, despite the menace he's been, because you have found relief from the world with him. many times.

but the moment passes and before you can think of anything to say, bakugou's eyes are hardening and he's pressing his mouth to yours, as his hands begin to trail down your body.

[darknights-beloved]

you shall not cause yourself to wither, not in my embrace, not while i still hold you

(and not forever, not even after death)

"It is I who cherishes those hands and holds them with my own. Happy birthday, my darling. I am immensely proud of you." i dont know how this ended up as my birthday fic, but here we are <3 maybe its all the years of growth im grateful for, and here i am.

diluc x reader

wc ⸺ 8.4k

cw; hurt/comfort ◞ implied abusive ( ? ) family ◞ afab! reader ◞ self indulgent (appearance mentioned - dark hair, dark pupils) (personality - heavily implied introvert mainly, adhd and traumatized if you squint) ◞ implied trauma (nothing too explicit. just vague details.) ◞ depression/anxiety ◞ tw self harm (/other mildly suicidal themes) ◞ established relationship (husband and wife. uses of 'husband' 'wife') ◞ once again self indulgent ◞ reader with questionable parents (abusive, overbearing, narcisisstic...etc) ◞ reader is mainly feeling numb due to emotinal trauma catching up w/ them ◞ somewhat melodramatic (in my eyes at least) ◞ mention of pills/medicine ◞ terms of endearment ◞ kissing and holding as always ◞ any and all backstory is mostly vague this is for my broken souls who suffer because of others and are not kind to themselves. pure comfort from here on out. needless to say that it is strictly sfw! hopefully, im not forgetting any other warnings or missing something, if so please reach out! <<<<

synopsis; to cherish someone is to ache for them, more so as they ache. you've hurt yourself and diluc's heart aches deeply. you dont deserve it you both know it - and yet there it is, the stubborn ache that your husband will conquer (even more so stubbornly) and replace with a loving, gentle ache of tenderness instead. - in other words, diluc ragnvindr, comes back home to the manor to see his wife anguished by the troubles of her mind and other factors playing a part in doing so. he takes care of you with nothing but devotion and protectiveness and worry for the night as he will tenaciously every single day of his life no matter how much you think you dont deserve it.he'll show you how beautiful you are.

 Diluc drew in a shaky breath of air as soundlessly he stepped into the stillness of your shared chambers.

His eyes rove over your figure, laid upon lavish crimson sheets with your head burrowed into the soft pillows and fast asleep. Dark, black locks of hair tousled, splayed in contrast stark against the gentle white of the pillow. You were huddled by the comfort of the bed he had always lovingly arranged for your every night’s rest, sleeping soundly. You were safe.

His shoulders relaxed as he made his way forward to your sleeping figure, taking a closer look at your tired form. For now, he wanted to push any worries present aside and focus himself on you. He tugged at the tips of his glove, each finger until it was made easy to pull out. Then wearily making move to cast the leather fabric aside to the dresser, bare and calloused hands reaching out to you and gentle fingers coming down to weave through your soft hair. Another breath leaves his lips.

You were safe.

⸺⸺⸺

Just this morning, you were with him ── happily chatting away by the coffee and snacks table as the two of you shared a pleasant breakfast prepared by no other than Adelinde. You had a small cold too due to the yearly season so the head maid made sure to whisk up a warmer, nutritious meal than usual, suited to ease the strain and drain of your sickness.

Unexpectedly, later, the moment was interrupted by a particularly probing businessman who unabashedly demanded the master’s attention from the distillery’s staff. To say Diluc was vexed with the sudden incident – no less while the two of you were peacefully enjoying yourselves – was to put it mildly. It took about an hour just to deal with the man and another to shut him up completely and shoo him away until he disappeared from the Windwail Highlands itself.

the moment he returned, however, he failed to catch sight of you anywhere in or near the Winery. He questioned his staff and most of them only had short, uncertain answer. But you were gone, this for sure.

You didn’t tell him, or anything. The maids were already done cleaning up along with your much hardly eaten breakfast, discarding away the leftover food as they washed the plate in the sink, simply going about their usual duties. It was nothing all too surprising; you usually tended to skip this meal of the day and in consequence he’d chide you for the lack of care you hate for your wellbeing sometimes. But today, he had gotten you to sit down and eat with him. Despite all the food he set onto your plate, perhaps all you had eaten was a small bun or so. Did the incident with that snob put you off? If so, he had barely constrained himself on throwing his fists at the bigot before lest you’d disapprove of his actions, but he’d most certainly like to punch him now. You were often wary of social attention and the attention he got as Duke of Mond certainly didn’t help.

He looked around the walls of the manor, searching for you with soft yet urgent calls of your name only to hear no reply. No reassurance. You must be in your shared room, yes? No. By his desk, sitting in a position that was very likely to strain your neck later as you draw fond sketches of him? No. Outside. You must be outside. He didn’t check outside yet.

“Master Diluc.” The head maid cleared her throat gently, a trace of concern etched onto her features.

Diluc halted his aimless pacing around the Winery by the doorway of his office, with a solemn expression. “Where is my she, my wife? I’m looking for her.” He stated forthright, eyes searching hers for an answer.

“Where is she?”

But the way the older maid averts her gaze slightly, an ounce of hesitation weighing her silence makes his chest tighten.

“She hastily left just half an hour ago, saying something about taking care of or accompanying her parents somewhere. To…lunch, I think.” Diluc’s eyebrows furrowed but Adelinde’s expression remained flat. “She did not inform us where as she scrambled to the door last-minute.”

“Parents…?” Diluc echoed quietly with a tone that could only be identified as a mix of caution. Anyone with eyes good enough could tell that he didn’t like what he was hearing. “Did she take her coat?” Mondstadt would only get windier by nightfall. Your cold would worsen.

“No, I don’t believe so.”

A pause.

“And you did not attempt to make me aware of this?” His jaw ticks.

“She had advised us not to bother you.”

An exasperated sigh left his lips gruffly the moment her words reached his ears. He simply turned, marching towards the hanger by his office, snatching the coat off it roughly by the collar as he sloppily slipped his arms into the leather sleeves.

“You shouldn’t have listened.”

That was all, he abandoned the conflicted maid and strode urgently and purposefully away from the winery, off to Archons knows where and hopefully catch sight of you.

⸺

Diluc’s thoughts were scattered. Partly because of his concern and frustration, for good reason too. He was sure his jaw would tense up painfully later from how much he was clenching it. Your faring with your parents was…strained, to put it mildly. Generously, too. He could not bring himself to trust them around you. He knew he was being stubborn, to not take your reassurance when you tell him you are able to handle things on your own. But how could you not even inform him of your departure? He’s more than just concerned; he feels mad and a little hurt. You always, always if called outdoors on any occasion, leave him with a sweet kiss of goodbye and a “I’ll return safely, dear” that the man was always accustomed to.

And today, you had not just disappeared onto any happy occasion, but you were with your parents. Your parents. People who never failed to repulse him by endangering you emotionally or physically by their selfishness, unresolved conflicts and troubles and own lack of understanding.

Then there’s you, with a benevolent heart with unfathomable empathy that hidden away in its core. And the Ragnvindr could never quite bring himself to understand how on Teyvat you could still care for them at times. He’s had his own fair share of family drama; or mayhap more than just what can be considered a ‘fair’ share but he knew for sure and in clear, unforgiving black and whites that anyone who do not even had a shred of decency and respect towards you simply doesn’t deserve to be in your presence.

He could never ensure your safety around them. He trusts you, truly he does, but he’s not a fool. He doesn’t trust them. Ultimately, Diluc only seeks definitive reassurance from you, the fact that you are indeed safe.

⸺

Hours later, and he’s restless. He’s scoured half of Mond and not even a knight dare question him, not wanting to be met by the scorching glare in the Ragnvindr’s red eyes. Caught up by a few pig-headed noblemen on the way or a few drunkards by the tavern who seemed to be causing their daily trouble who delayed him. He knows he shouldn’t prod like this in your affairs but your affairs with them were nothing but trouble.

Your husband remembers the many times you’ve been alone with your parents and then when you finally return to his arms, you don’t tell him about your stay with them. It’s always a vague answer. If he asks you what happened, it’s always “we’re doing good” “it’s fine” and he could never shake off the unease that crawled up his back at those words.

Only when he was met the outrider’s words of reassurance that she had seen you heading back to the Winery much later did he give up on his search. He breathed a soft sigh of relief, more than eager to get back home to you–

“Master Diluc, a fight has broken out in the bar between two knights! No. Wait. Three.” Charles panted, running towards Diluc the moment the barkeep spotted the Master in view. “- drunk knights.”

The Ragnvindr gritted his teeth, silently seething. “Those…imbeciles…” Charles panicked slightly, with a slightly confused expression on his face.

Diluc just sighed deeply, reigning in all his frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s no use talking about it. I will tend to them shortly.” This was taking much, much longer than he could ever be pleased with.

⸺⸺

Dusk had fallen. He hadn’t expected you to sleep so early, not when you always wanted to hang by his side all night alongside him as he did his paperwork. And were it not for the mishaps of his day he would’ve arrived home to you earlier so.

However, his frustration melted away seeing you safely tucked into the sheets as his heart beats calm down significantly in relief. He had scarcely been able to focus on anything but you. It really, really wasn’t like you to sleep early. You must be tired if you’re not going to stubbornly push yourself to stay awake. Shrugging off his coat, he slowly sat at the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. Any questions he had can wait for until after you’ve had your rest.

The truth is you’ve been uncomfortable for days now. Weeks. Only recently had you been progressing well. There's a hollow look in your eyes. No matter how hard you try to feel okay and how much ever his heart aches at the sight, it's as though a fragment - a delicate, precious fragment - of you is missing. His darling.

And the thought of you ever being sad or disoriented destroys him.

Diluc tries not to let the weight of his sinking heart be the focus of his mind now. As soon as he refreshed himself, changing himself into a loose set of nightclothes – a flame flickers and dances at the tip of his finger as it lights a candelabra that stood gracefully on the nightstand, the small flame soon burning down from the top of the wick. He set aside the ornate on the nightstand, along with his vision. His movement were deft as a hunter’s as he carefully reaches out a hand to check your temperature. Your forehead…feels warm. Not too warm. A soft sigh escapes him. He hopes you’ve at the very least eaten when you got back and taken your nightly medicine. Though, noting the stiff outdoor apparel that still clung to your skin as you slept, he knew you would have likely done neither.

At one glance itself, it was easily to tell you had mostly collapsed into bed the second you had returned home.

“You must be tired...” he murmurs quietly, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze is still stuck to you, red eyes swimming with concern as they drift over your figure while he carefully sat against the headboard, mattress sinking slightly under his weight. “you’ve worried me, dear.”

Worried is an understatement.

His arm comes to wrap around the side of your waist and pulling you closer to his side to which you unconsciously lean into his warmth, seeking his presence even in your sleep. Roughened fingers come down to caress the softness on your cheeks, only to feel almost something wet brush against his skin. His brows knit together as he felt damp tears against your cheek – a clear sign you had been crying.

You avoid crying. Resent crying. You didn’t like crying in front of anyone. Even in front of him, sometimes. Just as he was physically strong for you, you’ve always wanted to be his emotional rock in turn and perhaps to a fault. His protective instincts kicked in, alarm bells sounding loudly in his brain as he wipes away the dampness with a warm finger and strokes your hair, trying to soothe you in your sleep. He whispered your name softly, with a mixture of tenderness and worry. He wanted to wake you, ask you what was wrong, hold you but he didn’t want to disturb you.

His mind raced with possibilities at what could’ve caused such an emotional reaction from you at this. He was sure, without a second thought, that it had something to do with your family. He was sure of it. You disappear in the late morning, don’t inform him about a word of your departure, when he’s back you’re in bed early and there’s tears staining your cheeks. The very thought of you crying alone in bed only makes him bristle in more than just one protective instinct. Such nightmares you of all people should not have to endure. And yet���

He struggles to shake out of the darkening thoughts that start to cloud his head and tries to focus on your breathing. He couldn’t help but wonder just what had caused you to cry. Was it something that happened while you were out? Yes, he could be wrong, but his intuition was nagging at him badly. Mind racing with a million possibilities, he forced himself to push the same thoughts that haunted him and lurked at the back of his mind earlier this same day.

You still had your cold. He knew the best thing he could do right now was let you rest and recover as much as you can. He hesitated for a moment and decided to watch over you until you were awake again, leaning down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead as his heart aches with a mixture of concern and affection.

Feeling his warmth, you shudder slightly. A welcome contrast to the cold your body feels right now. Despite his best efforts of keeping, you undisturbed, you couldn’t help but stir awake as your body recognizes his presence and awakes your senses. Though he wasn’t too surprised when he felt you awake.

His heart stills as your eyes flutter open, momentarily frozen in his movements.

“oh, you’re back..” his heart clenches when he sees your hand discreetly try to wipe any tears you thought was there, only to feel your cheeks warm and dry. A flicker of realization passes through your expression. You don’t look at him directly.

“why didn’t you wake me? I was wondering if you’d be concerned about my sudden disappearance.” You murmured quietly, watching his brows furrow slightly. There’s a pang of guilt in your heart. Of course he was worried.

“You’re exhausted.” He frowns slightly, his tone firm but caring “Needless to say, your cold. Why would I wake you up?” “And I was half mad all the day, not knowing where you were or if you were okay.” He withheld a sigh, feeling you snuggle up against him. But when you coughed into your fist, he felt his fists clench involuntarily. You should’ve rested. You should’ve informed him, or something... He normally would’ve rolled up his sleeves and give you a stern talking to but you didn’t even seem all that fully awake.

However, you felt his frustration melting away as you gingerly laid your head on his shoulder, only making him hold you tighter in a protective embrace. “Where have you been, my love?” he continues, his tone softening as worry whelms any other emotion he feels right now. “What’s happened, hm? You did not even care to inform me? You should know you’re not inconveniencingme by something as plain as that, darling.”

“besides, you’re still sick” he stresses, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.

You stiffened at his gentle scolding, though you knew it came from a good place. A protective place that wants to keep you safe. Though, it was not out of fear nor anything alike, but more of guilt. You could be reckless sometimes, you knew that. But this time, it was more than just recklessness. You knew that and that made you feel guiltier.

“My parents had called for me-“ you reasoned weakly, as though an important excuse. A proper justification. “They don’t like it when I turn them down. You know how they are…” averting your gaze, your own tone softened much more “with me, with us…”

Your eyes drifted to the wall across, a sort of dull white. A thoughtful on your face as you recounted the incident with them.

What was supposed to be a pleasant lunch with them quickly turned sour. The food sat in your stomach uncomfortably the whole walk back home, your guts churning with the need to just shrink away. It was pathetic, really. You were supposed to be strong. And yet,

“They get suspicious quickly.”

You felt another cough coming on, stifling it to no avail as you bring your knee to your chest and your husband’s worried gaze doesn’t relieve at all. The way you said it, it makes him stomach churn. He knows how they are. But he knows you too. You’re being vague. A little too vague than usual.

Though hearing you excuse their overbearing behavior simply because they’re your parents makes his jaw tighten. “They do not own you like that, my flower. You shouldn’t have to drop everything and run to them whenever they call. Especially when you’re unwell..”

He pauses, his gaze studies you as he tries to get a read on your expression. Your eyes are still, not so subtly, avoidant of him. He could see the weariness in them, the obvious pallor in your cheeks. It didn’t help that you were trying to hide the effects of the cold from him either.

“You have to take better care of yourself, my love.. And you need to set boundaries with your family…you can’t let them keep guilt you into things like this. I won’t.”

He reaches out and pulls the blanket over the lower half of your body, feeling your faint shudders and shivers.

“I know…I do, I just...” your voice falters and you feel your words failing you. It wasn’t just this situation and you know it. How to describe the tumultuous rage of emotions in your heart when your mind violently blocks all your feelings? It’s stuck in your throat; it’s almost choking you and you hate it. You also hate that he can see it, that it’s worrying him, deeply.

(oh if only you knew where his worry was coming from…) albeityour doubts and fears were the most stubbornest things about you and you loathe it.

And how can you reassure him when it’s so clear that in your eyes a spark is missing, a spark he’d do anything to reignite until they smile and shine so brightly yet softly as though a sea of stars were poured into the darkness of your pretty pupils.

His heart hurts. Gods, you’re usually so talkative. He loves listening to every word that falls from your lips, music strung by your pretty voice. But now you’re awfully silent and he doesn’t miss the way your lips tremble every time there’s but a syllable on the tip of your tongue. Albeit the silence is unnatural in every aspect, he doesn’t push it.

It hasn’t just been weeks and both of you know it, pretending will only get someone so far. It’s been months and it hurts. It hurts him as much as it hurts you. The past few weeks were only more prominent, the numbness stronger and more palpable compared to the days before that. You’re falling apart and he keeps picking you back up, with gentle and nonetheless steady hands. For Archon’s sake, you’ve even demanded him why. Why didn’t – couldn’t – he just give up on you already? What makes him so patient, so kind, so caring? To stay by your side with the softest of smiles and go to the point of exhausting himself to keep you safe and cared of. Loved. Was he even tired at all?

Instead, you snuggle up just a little closer to his side and Diluc’s expression softens a tad bit more. Both arms now come to wrap around your smaller figure, as if protecting you from the world, from your fears. He turns to face his body to you somewhat, his chin propping itself right above the top of your head as he takes in your scent to ground both you and himself.

“I missed you..” you breathe and his heart clenches at how timid it sounds. No matter how much you may try to conceal your emotions or hide your thoughts from him, sometimes its as thought he knows more about you than you do about yourself. And in times you forget who you really are, he is more than happy to remind you.

“I’ve missed you more, mein liebe.” whispers he in return, his voice a little more quieter.

“we will take care of this later” he promised, pressing his lips to your right hand with absolute reverence. “for now, let me take care of you..”

He felt you shuffle nervously in your place, your left-hand stiffening under the blanket. His brows furrow, alarm bells sounding in his head as he sensed you were conscious of your movement, intentionally keeping it away from him. He knows sometimes you avoid his kisses out of your own insecurity but never quite deliberately and without being aware of what you were doing.

He felt his stomach sink as his hand searched yours underneath the soft blanket.

“Darling-?” he caught your hand in his fairly quickly, concern immediately etching onto his face as he feels you tug away from him.

“What are- “ you tugged your hand again as you hid the upper half away underneath, and he saw the panic rise in your eyes like urgent flames with only one instinct in mind.

“it’s nothing.” There it is. Your tone, it was uncomfortable and you cursed yourself for it. “Can you not do that- “

Your efforts were to no avail. You watched in helplessness and panic as his fingers brushed against a rough scrape with your broken and abrased skin around it, his blood going cold as he felt his heart lurch with ripples of shock electrocuting it so - on your ring hand no less where a red rose carved diamond rests on your ring finger. His heart dropped to a million pieces as he felt you quick, desperate protests, flying out of your mouth instinctively.

“W-wait…Diluc! D-don’t…. I didn’t-“ To hide this from him. His eyes darkened.

“What have you done?”

The words sound strangled in his throat; each syllable being forced out as though it were he was forcing out pointy daggers out of his esophagus instead. His held your hand firmly but gently – the last thing he ever wanted to do was cause you more pain.

“I-“ but the words were strangling you, too. Each cutting through your throat as you tried to force out your own set of daggers. You weren’t as strong as him. Not that you could find a coherent word in your head to word anyway. You had caused yourself harm, again.

His thumb silently traced across the scratches, cut deep but not too deep. Perhaps just deep enough for it to sting in the cold air, for you to wince at the touch and gentle tracing of his finger – for it to leave a small scar behind and to swell around the edges. The sight were knives twisting at the guts of his heart, hurting him more than it could hurt you. He slowly rubs against the slight swell, feeling your hand tense under his touch. One cut just below your pinky, another on the opposite side of your wrist and one in the middle, below them.

Those were three cuts.

He felt a wave of despair and anger wash over him, a roaring fire that burned furiously in his eyes, with emotions too loud to identify and some he could’ve even name. Hopelessness and sadness mixing alongside it. His grip on your wrist tightens slightly and you know you can’t escape even if you wanted to. His eyes trail over the self-inflicted wounds, swimming with anguish and then slowly but inevitably - unshed tears. He grits his teeth.

“I don’t understand.” His eyes search yours, and it almost seemed as though you didn’t understand either. “I thought you were doing…better.”

You’ve hurt yourself. Did you see that? Feel that? And yet, the only thing that seemed to be your main concern now was the fact that you were caught. Not the fact that you slit open your delicate, petal-like skin. Skin that’s soft, so perfectly in contrast to his callous ones. He has scars and he hates it. And If anyone ever dared to scar you or do so much as lay a fingertip on your body in the wrong way, he’ll do away with them. Severely. Anything the poses as a threat to you or any danger that stalks you, he’ll have absolute zilch hesitation in obliterating them completely. He’s all too familiar with the dangers of this world and what’s to come. But the thought of you being the one to hurt yourself, to wound your undamaged skin and treat yourself in ways he would kill were it anyone else’s hand scarring yours was torment to say the least.

“What have you done...” he pleaded, pulling you impossibly close and eliminating any space between you as though even a gap would be enough to stop his breath. “…to yourself...?” Your breath hitched and you were at a brilliantly pathetic loss for words.

"I was sure you were long past..." he paused, the words choking on his throat. It felt like poison in his tongue and he could neither spit it or swallow it down. "self-inflicted injuries..." "I'm sorry" you shivered against his chest "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I just.."

Sorry doesn't cut it and you know that, you should. You don't miss the way he seems to tremble too, as if he was also scared just as you are. Red eyes that can't tear its burning gaze away from the various self-inflicted cuts on your wrist and forearm. Red eyes that swim with frustration, worry, concern, sadness, and fear all at once. Red eyes that seem to be fully set ablaze now.

“I didn’t mean to repulse you…. or anger you.” No, of course not. If anything, you meant to demean yourself. The thought made him feel all the more helpless, yet more protective.

“No, angel. What you’ve done has done more than just repulse me. It’s hurt me.” He lets go for a second, scrutinizing each cut as his heart swelled in muddled and screeching emotions. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

Your tears finally fall, the weight of his words pushing the droplets down your cheeks. Now you see. You have given into those urges again. Something you have both fought tooth and nail to shake yourself away from. Something he thought he’d succeeded in doing but as your stomach churns do you slowly realize whatever pain you endure hurts more than what’s just. Because he cares, cares beyond what would be fathomable.

“You don’t deserve this.” His thumb gingerly hovers over the wound, his heart heavy and mind unable to focus on anything but the weight of his suspicions made reality. More so than what his initial anxiousness was for. He doesn’t understand. He simply doesn’t. You don’t deserve even a fraction of this. “Come here.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. You’ve sliced open your skin because no one would care and you could feel the thrill of pain and numb all emotions. Where’d you get this from? When had that ever become reality? Was it the moment you had fought with your parents again, when they overlooked you and your efforts and you felt all that hurt all over again?

"Sshh..." he coos, despite yourself. Despite himself. He encircles his arms around your waist, and you can really feel it. His heartbeat was stuttering. He really is trembling.  "...my darling..."

Your eyes sting with more fresh hot tears at the hardly stifled crack in his voice, the way he tries to stay strong for you. But just as your cuts bleed, his heart bleeds more at the sight of it all.

A hand makes its way to the back of your head, holding you tightly and keeping you leave locked in his desperate embrace. Weary red eyes flutter close. Fingers thread through your hair again and Diluc holds you a little tighter - just to ground himself. Just to remind you and himself that the both of you are here, together.

He tries to let it sink in, that you had gone and does this to yourself again. You didn't in the past year. And he wasn't there beside you. He's frustrated, mad at himself. He wasn't there to shield you, to protect you and he could've. If only you told him, if only he....

Your spouse lets out a slow, unsteady exhale. He pulls back to look at you more clearly. Dark circles under your mildly bleary eyes and your nose flushed red from crying. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he feels your shoulders loosen slightly. His hand comes down, tracing the back of your wrist, along your pinky to your forearm. His frown deepened slightly, heart squeezing when you winced. The bruised skin have swelled up around the marks. His chest tightens as he inspects it closely.

"My darling..." He breathes, bringing the mistreated hand up to his lips as he peppered the most featherlight kisses. Right below every cut, above and all around as if to make them disappear with his lips alone. "Who made you do such a thing?” and did I fail you? But he dares not speak the questions that plague him, it’s on the tip of his tongue though – not so steadily balancing itself if it weren’t for him biting his own emotions back.

Because more than anything, Diluc is scared. He is really a scared, worrying lover of all things, trying to take care of you with all he is capable of (and oh so much more) and protect you with all he is. All he wishes is for you to let him.

Feeling the way you tensed up at his questions, as if your senses were on high sensitivity, he backtracked. His hand moved to your soft, silky hair that cascaded down the front of your shoulders messily as he stroked the stray locks tenderly. “Why? You don’t have to pretend with me, I love you more than words can articulate.”

You looked up to his eyes again, taking in how soft such a hardened gaze can become for you. This time from a slightly different emotion. You know what he's asking, pleading for.

“Let me in. Talk to me. Please.”

"I'll try.." You can't promise him. Not this time.

"No." But he won't let you.

“I think you need to understand this clearly. Everything will be okay sooner than you’ll know it, I will make sure of it. No matter what happens, I’ll always be beside you.” he sucks in a breath through his teeth and his eyes flicker to your hands once more. The right one, unscathed while the left…was the opposite. His heart contracted.

“Wherever I am, whenever. You have me. I’m yours, my love. And I want nothing more than to keep you happy and safe. To see that precious smile of yours.”

A shaky breath leaves his lips as his sternness cracks and overflows with emotion. "Because I can't bear to see you like this, my sweet..." Diluc brokenly whispers. He tries to swallow down his sadness, but it's painfully prominent in his eyes. He doesn't mean to make you feel guilty, it's not his intention at all. But he needs you to understand just how much he cares about you; he cares more than what he can handle sometimes and it hurts.

It hurt to see his dearest hurt herself.

"Whatever did you do to deserve such pain, such...hurt?" he demands in a broken whisper, gently cupping your cheeks up to him. "hm? Was it ever your fault? Your wrongdoing?"

No. No, no it wasn't. It wasn't. Your heart breaks along with his and all you can manage this moment is a strained sorry - a word he shakes his head at.

"Don't apologize." His jaw clenches slightly. "Don't apologize to me."

Your hand gingerly reaches his at his distress, you squeeze it as it rested atop your cheek. "For all the pain I've caused you." You murmured, watching his eyebrows knit together.

"It's only my pain because you've caused yourself pain." He interjects roughly, his hand quickly interlacing with yours as he kisses your knuckles gently. You sigh deeply.

“Don’t you understand?” you breath hitches as he pulls you impossibly closer to him with his eyes full of ache. “Everything I do, I do for you. You deserve so, so much more sweetheart. I’m…scared.”

Your hand comes to instinctively wrap around his and you hold onto it firmly. “What, why?”

“I can’t lose you…” His fingers dig into your hips lightly and your press your lips against his chest, right atop where his heart is. “Not to pain. Not to grief. Not to sadness. Not to doubt, not to paranoia. Not to death.”

“You won’t. I promise you won’t.” you assured with the same desperation as him, looking up at him with apology “I don’t even know what I was feeling, it just….it just happened.”

“I know. I know you don’t.” His heart swelled from the kiss and he felt ache tighten his chest again. “I know its hard but you can tell me, come to me if there’s if there’s anything even remotely bothering you. I’m here, sweet darling, and I’m solely here for you. You know this, don’t you…?”

You let out a heavy sigh, averting your gaze. “…not always.”

“Then I would remind you.” A finger delicately tilted your chin up, bringing your eyes back to your husband’s burning gaze. “I know not always. But it’s alright. I’m your husband – not just anyone. Your lover, yours. I want to be there for you. It’s my duty, my honor and privilege.” Burning with conviction and firm love. “You have to let me.”

Your throat constricted with unvoiced words, too many of them. All jumbled up. But he didn’t force a reply out of you, didn’t force a promise out of you no matter how much he wanted a conclusive reassurance from you.

“You don’t have to promise me that you won’t do this again. Just tell me you’ll let me take care of you.” his voice dropped to a delicate whisper; the next words fragile as they were precious. “…my love?”

So were yours. “I’ll…let you take care of me.” You reluctantly muttered and that was all he needed. His lips found your own, and no matter how many times he’s kissed you, he could never be prepared for how his heart sings, soars and swells all over again.

Whatever happened will be discussed once you’re in a better state of mind and ready to talk. For now, all you need is rest while your husband dearly takes care of you.

⸺⸺

The fireplace lit the dark manor, its halls illuminated in the warmth of its light and heating up the distillery to a comfortable temperature. It was silent, not too silent, just perfectly silent. Maybe it was the rare quietness in your mind that made you feel this way. Calm, oddly enough. Your thoughts not screaming at your emotions for once, your head not heavy on your shoulders.

The only sound was the crackle of the firewood or the broth boiling small bubbles in a pot over in the kitchen. Or Diluc’s disapproving hums and soft take of breaths as he carefully unfolded the dressing pad of the square bandage and gently pressed it atop the streak of your swollen wound. And never mind your barely stifled coughs from time to time…

The smell of classic chicken soup wafted in the air; broth filled with luscious ingredients that Diluc lovingly prepared for you. Your cold was still mild and you couldn’t even feel it in the tranquil of the moment. When everything else faded out and it was just you and your husband, while your head rested on the cool mahogany table and left arm stretched out for him to examine, to take care of. To put to rest what pain you’ve inflicted because of those who hurt you. Were you to allow it, he’ll find them later, strip them of everything they hold dear were it not for your patience.

“Does it hurt?”

You felt his fingertips caress the top of the bandage; eyebrows knit together with a hint of lingering frustration you knew he wouldn’t be able to shake off that easily. “No, it doesn’t.”

He hummed, somewhat distracted. Your eyes wandered around for a bit, before you finally lifted your head up to properly get a light read on his expression. He’s been quiet for some time.

“So…. aren’t you going to say anything?”

He sighed deeply, squeezing your wrist gently as he looked you firm in the eyes. “Please don’t take this lightly.”

His eyes trailed over your wounds once more, his eyes stuck on the same spots. The ointment he had applied was cooling to your skin, the burning tinge of the scrapes fading away from your skin. He holds it, tenderly, holds it. In his own scarred hands, more scarred than yours, bloodstained even but he holds it with a reverence that shines in his gentleness, his care.

Carefully, he lifts your petal soft skin to his lips and lets his faintly chapped lips brush against your knuckles just delicately enough. You still, heart pounding in your chest as he peppers them along your wrist to the very last mark below. It’s times like these, your heart to scream “He loves you.” And he does.

“Thank you.” at your whispered words, he looks at you and brushes your cheek with the softest smile. “for what, my sweet?”

“For taking care of me!” You exclaimed with a hint of defensiveness for his playful innocence, knowing he only wanted to lighten your head up a little. “You know that…”

“I know.” He confirms as you clasp your hand, a more serious expression on his face. “But that’s no such thing to thank me for.”

His feels your hand squeeze his and his eyes soften again with a soft grumble following afterwards. “…but you can thank me by letting me in more, hm, baby?”

“…right.” Your face flushed a soft red immediately, a shy smile twitching at the corners of your lips immediately and his gaze only softens more at the sight. His fingers brush against yours as he slowly pulls away – turning to the kitchen. The air smelled good. The soup must be ready.

“You need to eat now.” He grabbed a black catlike-shaped bowl (one he specifically bought for you at the market, telling you how it reminded him of you). Catching your pout however, he shakes his head lightly with a fond smile. “Darling, you had barely touched your food at breakfast today. As for lunch…well, I want you to forget about lunch. And then; your cold.” He said with a pointed look. Your cold wasn’t even that of a big deal. “Just sit there and look pretty, I’ll be done here soon.”

Your pout soon turned into a soft, somewhat bashful smile and his heart skipped a beat. He really knows how to worm his way into your own heart, and you’ve come to trust it with fondness. “Alright, fine.”

Soon, he placed the bowl of steaming chicken soup along with a silver rose engraved spoon. It was that pleasant, comforting warm color that the broth held – along with the perfectly diced vegetables and meat in it. Looking at the food only did you rather surprisingly realize how hungry you were. Skipping meals were a norm for you, something both your and the head maid would highly disapprove of. But something was different. He wanted you to eat. He wanted you to enjoy the taste of the food, thus the carefully homemade meal. It wasn’t cooking for another for the sake of it. He wanted you to love even the first bite and thus the effort. That felt different from the begrudgingly cooked meals you were given from your mother in the past. It was her responsibility. This was different. This was Diluc and he wanted you to eat.

“What going on in that head of yours, my love?” He inched it a little closer to you before his hand came up to gently pat your head, pulling you away from your thoughts. He lifted your chin, eyes carefully scanning if you were hesitant. When he found none, he let go. “don’t keep yourself waiting.”

“I was just…thinking.” You dismissed, shaking your head lightly in reassurance, taking the spoon in your hand while he dragged a chair closer to you and sat beside you; offering silent company.

Every spoonful made your heart and stomach feel full and warm. It tasted so good. So good. The flavor invaded your tongue, the spice a small comfort to your now weakening cold. He rubbed your back the whole time, just silently staring at you with concerned care swimming in vermillion eyes, making sure you were okay. Additionally, also making sure that you’d finish the bowl completely…maybe have seconds. No, definitely– he silently added to himself as he stood up from his seat, abruptly deciding to brew you some warm ginger tea as well. Now that he thinks about it, there were some fine assorted dark chocolates in a cabinet, too.

⸺⸺

“Let’s get you into something comfy, yeah?”

You hummed softly in response to your husband’s words, your eyelids already drooping with the weight of sleepiness and tire. The warmth of the food seeped in too close to your heart like a comforting flicker of flame, spurring sleep. Everything was slowly but surely catching up to you – most prominently – exhaustion.

Your eyes flickered across his figure, moving diligently as he rummaged through your closet for your night clothes. The warmth of the food felt oddly lingering, lulling in a way. The pillow that helped your back rest was fluffed to your satisfaction, only more soothing to your weariness.

Once you saw him reaching for your clothes, an idea came to mind. “Can- can I wear your shirt?”

Your voice came out unsure, your heart jumping, albeit he had sternly taught you to be nothing but open with what you wanted with him.

Diluc froze, short-circuiting for a second at the unexpected request. He paused in his rummaging; he was surprised but pleasantly surprised nonetheless. He turns to look at you with a soft smile.

“You want to sleep in my shirt, my love?”

Your eyes flicker elsewhere hesitantly before returning to his again, then to his smile. It was almost as though he was proud of you of voicing that aloud, despite the shyness that seeped into your tone. Well, if anything, it only made him further smitten with you.

“Uhm, yes?” You confirmed with a nod, waiting for his reaction. His shirt alone and the soft fabric wrapped around her body along with his arms would be enough healing needed right now.

A warm, tender smile stretched out on his lips instantly as you confirmed your words, his heart aching with happiness at the simple request.

“Of course, dearest. My shirt is yours to wear.”

Instantly, he moved to his side of the dresser, rifling through his clothes and uncaring about the mess he’s making through the neatly folded clothes. He pulls out a soft, well worn-shirt. He makes his way back to you, the clothing clutched in his palm as he hands it to you.

“Let me help you.” before any protests could come flying out of your mouth, he gently helped you remove your top. Your heart calmed at the sight of his beam, relieved by his eagerness and enthusiasm.

“there now, careful...” he focused softly, making it certain that the bandages do not disarray as he pull the top over your head carefully. You let him take your top off tiredly while he set it aside to the laundry and you trying not to disarray the bandages too much over your injuries as you slowly donned the shirt.

With that he gently laid you down into bed, grabbing the covers to pull over your legs. His eyes raked over your figure, hugged loosely by his much larger shirt. He was suddenly made aware of how small you were compared to him. With a gentle kiss to your nose, he whispered ‘beautiful’ – reveling in your soft giggles afterwards.

Then he grabbed both of your hands in his gentle hold, pressing his lips onto every inch of the skin from your wrist to each of our fingertips. Just to feel your hands in his, hear your laughter for a little longer before sleep. It took his breath away every time he absorbed the fact that your hands – smaller, softer than his could ever be, chose to held his. It was definitive he’d protect them without question just as he’d protect your heart and soul. He just wanted you to be happy, he simply wanted you to be…

“Comfortable, sweetheart?”

You smiled contentedly, tucked back in into the comforts of the soft sheets. “yeah. Comfortable!”

“Now lay down, my love.” But despite your sleepiness, you really didn’t want to. You wanted to stay awake beside him, even for a few minutes. But knowing Diluc, he would use his vision to warm his hands to an impossibly unavoidable sensation of comfort, rubbing your back soothingly until sleep lures you into unconsciousness.

Your husband couldn’t stifle the smile that stubbornly clung to his lips as he gently pushed you into the mattress again when you tried to sit up once more, lifting your hair back and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll sleep with you.” leaving each other was the last thing on the both of your minds.

“Yes, you will.” You happily smiled as he climbed into bed beside you, wrapping a protective arm firmly by your waist as he brought you close to his chest. “but not yet...” you cheekily added, making his smile widen reluctantly.

He cocked a brow at your words but before he can even part his lips to speak, he’s suddenly met with a plethora of kisses to the lower half of his face and you trying to squirm out of his hold

“You’re tired. Stop that.” He chastised gently when you tried pushing his hands away with a small frown on your rosy lips. Diluc adores your kisses and he, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt himself, was nothing more than your darling lover and more with every kiss you pressed unto his lips and body. But you needed your rest now and Diluc was also a stubborn man in that fact.

“But I didn’t kiss you all that much today.” You sighed, slightly muffled as you pressed more kisses to his cheeks and jaw. He blushes so very easily and his pale skin doesn’t do the man any favors either.

“You can kiss me plenty, tomorrow.” He cupped your face in place, squishing your cheeks together gently as he chuckled at the adorable sight of you, followed by a reluctant sigh. “After you’ve had your rest, my love. Go to sleep.”

“Fine-“ you grumbled slightly but he booped your nose, making you laugh softly again. “Hey!!” you clasped his hand in protest, holding it in your smaller one.

“don’t be mad at me, mein liebling. I just want you to have a good night’s rest after everything.” Lifting your hand up to his lips, he brushed a kiss against your knuckles. He swears it’ll be the last kiss but he can’t seem to get his hands or lips off you all too much. Despite his playfulness, the sternness in his eyes are clear and no doubt he’s still worried about you. He would be worried about you for days until he truly felt you better yourself both mentally and physically. But a few laughs spilling from your lips every now and then was the only thing that felt like it could ease the heaviness in his heart.

For now, he wanted you to have a good night’s sleep. To simply close your eyes and rest.

“I know, I’ll sleep..” you sunk deeper into his embrace he held you, no more fighting the pull of slumber. With a tired smile, Diluc tightens his arms around you gently, feeling your breathing and heartbeat steady against the rise and fall of his own chest.

“good girl. I love you. I love you so much.” His lips met yours once again and tonight, you couldn’t doubt him or that he was yours to love as you were his to be held. Your eyes flutter close. “I love you too, Luc. I love you very much too.”

Hands that were once soaked in unfathomable volumes of blood, hands that are calloused and far too roughened to lay skin to skin upon soft, silken ones such as yours, hands marred with scars big and small, some faded, some deep. Hands that run over yours gently feeling the ring that sits on your finger before reaching up and raking gingerly through your hair, lulling you to slumber. The only next thing that falls from his lips is a soft “goodnight” as you teeter on the edge of unconsciousness, failing (and successfully so, in your lover’s eyes) to the bear the brunt of catching sight to see the tears that quietly forms in your lover’s eyes as his thumb brushes once more against your wounds. Only as you slip into the deep slumber your body and mind longs for does the tears slip from the desperate grip and grasps of his restraint.

Your skin does not deserve to be marred. Not like his, at least not like his. Not like this. He’ll show you how beautiful you are all over again, no matter what. How utterly darling you are. He’ll remind you so.

a/n: im not sure if i wouldve finished it without you, aurora. i know you're dyslexic but the emotion in this fic could not exist without being dedicated to you first.

[visenyaism]

Hello bestie I am curious as to your thoughts on the "Rhaegar saw Dany while she was having a vision of him and mistook her for a future Visenya" theory, if you're willing to share them? I can't decide which side of the fence I'm on (seems like a misinterpretation to me, but does do the whole reinforcing the tragic themes of prophecy thing, which I do love)

eh im not super into it being that literal i think prophecy works best when it’s a bit more thematic and metaphorical because the whole point is interpretation and misinterpretation. i also don’t think rhaegar ever saw dany and mistook her for a daughter, i think it would make more sense to mistake dany for himself, just like she mistakes herself for rhaegar in her own visions.

the version of this theory that i really like is that daenerys bringing the dragons back is such a powerful moment that returns magic to the world that it sort of reverberates out and wraps the timeline around itself. to the extent that people who are dreamers are getting snippets of it like hundreds of years earlier as well. but people see what they want to see and turns out a lot of targaryens who saw someone walking out of a fire unharmed or hatching three dragons from stone or melting a bunch of ice soldiers with dragonfire or crossing the trident and they said thats ME i am the prince that was promised in order to get the dragons back i have to do those things. and they killed themselves trying to accomplish this because it was never going to be them it was daenerys, someone who they would have denied all power and agency and never suspected of greatness if she had been around in their time. i think thats neat

[nburkhardt]

perhaps five for the cuddling prompts if you haven’t done it already? It just seems like something that they would say 🩵

5 - “I’m sorry, I’m probably suffocating you.” “No, I don’t mind. If I do happen to suffocate, just know I died happy.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Steve will admit he’s clingy. Very clingy actually. Like to the point where a nasty voice in the back of his head -that sounds a little like his dad- will curse him and call him names about it whenever he throws his presence around anyone.

Robin told him once that it’s probably because his parents didn’t give him a lot of affection, that he craves touch. It’s why she drapes over him whenever they’re hanging out, or when she decides to link arms whenever they’re walking. He loves her for it, especially loves how she said it’s not a bad thing to be this way.

That he’s allowed to be clingy, to give affection.

Nearly all of his past relationships didn’t like it, thought it was too much. Nancy liked it for the first few months and somewhere along the way, told him to pull it back a little. Maybe that’s when he should’ve realized she didn’t feel the same way.

Which is why he decided to back down with his clingy tendencies around Eddie. Doesn’t want to push him away or give him the chance to hurt him. Because if Eddie learns how much he can be or that he has feelings, it could very easily change. He could lose this.

He thinks that he’s successful with pulling away, until Eddie corners him during movie night at the trailer.

Hopping up, he wiggles his empty can to wordlessly tell Eddie about grabbing a new one. It’s a quick few minutes and when he sits back down, Eddie is pausing the movie.

“Uh, what?” Steve looks at him, “Eds?”

Eddie sat the remote down and turned fully towards him. Determination on his face, arms now crossed and it’s leaving Steve confused. They were fine just a second ago.

“Are you upset with me?” Eddie asks, and it really throws Steve for a loop, “Stevie, you’re not where you’re supposed to be”

Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Steve opens his mouth a few times before closing it and crossing his own arms, “Eddie, what? That, what are you talking about?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, uncrossing his arms to throw them up and grip at the air before dropping them to Steve’s leg. It makes him pull it away and Eddie lets out a hum, “That! You’re pulling away from me, I thought you liked touch? It’s movie night and you’re sitting so far away from me, I miss my space heater. Miss my sunshine”

It makes him tense up, eyes widen and his heart to go in overdrive. A million thoughts race and he can’t- there’s, “Ed- what, um. Are you, are you saying that, you like how clingy I am?” He cringes as he speaks.

“Stevie, Steve, Honeylove, I will always love how clingy you are.” Eddie smiles and slowly reaches towards him before lightly touching Steve’s arm and Steve looks towards it before meeting Eddie’s eyes, finding unsaid question; can I touch?

All he can do is nod and watch as Eddie smiles and pulls him hard enough to make him fall directly on top of him.

Being this close, Steve can feel how fast Eddie’s heart is beating. Feels his own heartbeat beats along just as fast, it makes his eyes widen as he looks at Eddie’s face.

“Teddy?”

Eddie hums and wraps his arms around him, “hm?”

“What are you saying?”

Eddie squeezes him, “Want ya clingy, want you.”

Steve freezes and it seems like forever as he meets Eddie’s eye. Finding a fond expression, “I’ve wanted to ask for a while, ya know? Thought I had time to figure out the best way but someone,” he presses a finger to Steve’s back, “decided to pull away recently and I’ve decided that’s not happening, that I need my cuddly sunshine baby.”

It brings tears up and giggles bubble up, as he shifts to hide his face. Squeezing him and presses him more into the couch, “sorry, Teddy. Probably suffocating you”

Eddie clicks his tongue, “Nah, darling. I don’t mind, If I do happen to suffocate, just know I died happy. Because, I really love you.”

Steve grins, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder before shifting to look down at him, “I really love you too, you sap”

~

Can I just say I really don’t think it makes perfect sense? Maybe it does and it’s just me, my edible hit me half way into this. I think I rambled a bit, lost the plot a bit.

Hope you still like it tho!!!!!

Cuddling prompts

[mishaesque]

supernatural really went from “let’s find the two hottest young guys out there and make cheesy horror flicks” to

“the brothers are the centre of the universe and the books god wrote about them will one day be known as The Winchester Gospel”

[youssefguedira]

actually i've decided i'm obsessed with joe's what are you gonna do kill me line. marwan kenzari plays that one 100% seriously which is in line with how he does the rest of the scene (perfect btw 100/10 we've talked about that that's not the point here) and i tend to overlook it because of that but in retrospect funniest possible thing to say to the guys who have kidnapped you for your immortality. what ARE they gonna do. kill him?

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - The Tavern

*kicks in the door* HELLO! :D Guess three times who had an idea?! IT is me! Your homie!

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

I am so excited because I finally got an idea on how I wanted to mention a few things! And It fits together! :D

Also, The mentioned OC is from @spotaus Who made a lovely drabble that I personally also consider canon for this AU <3 Give it some love and look at it okay? They are very talented!

*---------------------*

Dust looks up at the building as he tilts his skull. It looks nice enough and doesn't look like the general Grillby's building. It looks grander and like it has been expended a bunch. Dust can see some newer repairs around the fench and the walls and can only assume those had to be repaired.

Cross shuffles somewhere near him "Are we sure about this?"

Killer hums as he looks at the building himself "I mean. Dusty got that cash reward for that repair thing at the last market..." and he shrugs.

Dust nods "WAs a lot." and that is an understatement. When the mayor had said they would send a thank you for Dust repairing the generator and fridges he had figrued it would just be like some flowers.

That was usually with political people did. Send some weird present and a card about how good of a free service yoou did and all that crap.

Instead she just send a cash package that none of them had expected. As thank you for saving their market. Aparently it was the normal amount they payed for a emergancy service of this big with a nice tiny bonus. As a welcome to the community present!

It had been welcome mostly because it would help get them started after the winter and made sure they didn't need to keep getting by with tiny jobs here and there.

Horror nods in agreement "Crop said this would be a good way to get more friendly. Be seen less as hermits." Dust blinks back into the conversation and actually pays attention as he is suposed to be part of it.

Cross sounds deeply unhappy "I like being hermits..."

Dust hums as he keeps holding Nightmare. Nightmare stares slightly enchanted at the building before shaking his skull to snap himself out of it. Dust thinks they are doing a good job with helping him unlearn the bad and unhealthy habits he had from being forced into his guardian position.

But it will take more time, Nightmare still feels awkward and weird for being a child and childlike sometimes. They will eventually get that mindset out of his little skull.

More shuffles and Dust glances over. Yup. No Cross in sight. Dust doesn't point it out and just thrusts his elbow out into the general direction he last heard Cross. A groan and Cross sends him a glare as the weird invisibility starts to shift off of him.

That is another thing all four of them had silently decided to just... not talk about. Much like how he tended to now be more charged with actual electricity instead of just mana. How Killer's silver tongue has gone to the extreme and even the most stupid lies seem to be believed if he says it with enough confidence. How the very layout of their own farm shiftly slightly when Horror had been staring and nudging the area.

They just...

It is probably fine. Ngihtmare hadn't seemed alarmed by it and they just figure it is because of the apple situation. Nightmare is still slowly losing that old magic and they are nearby a lot. It would make sense they took it over slightly.

They hadn't been actively bothered by it yet and while annoying and something to keep in mind it didn't seem dangerous.

Dust nods to the door "Lets go." and he walks forwards wiht Ngihtmae in his arms.

The inside is nicely lit and warm. People are all around and Dust recognises quite a few people from all of his trips to town to repair things. he also sees some of the people who came to help them with their new house. Dust still doesnt'quite know the names of them all as he never was the best with names. That is more of a Killer and Cross thing.

Dust looks around and spots a table which is empty and marches over there. By this point easily ignoring the curious glances. He also knows that Killer is shadowing him with most likely that same stupid challenging and charming grin on his stupid charming face.

Dust takes a seat and looks at the chairs around him. He ends up pulling one near and putting Nightmare in it. Nightmare manages to look over the edge but it is a near thing. Dust tilts his skull "That good?"

Nightmare thinks it over before nodding. Then he looks to the side as he takes in someone playing the guitar and singing live music. huh. Dust wonders if that is a regular thing.

The others join them and they all take a moment to really familiarise themselves with the area. It is different but small details are the same. The shade of the lighting. The colour of the shelves. Tiny things that make the scene more familiar.

Dust used to get disbalanced and well, fucked in the head by seeing things that reminded him of his own universe. He still gets missed up if it is too much alike but he likes to think he got a bit better at handling it all.

They look up when Light walks over to them. Their flames bright as they carry menu's in their multitude of arms. They greet them and gives everyone a menu before getting a small notepad out "Any ideas for drinks?"

Dust shrugs as he lokos at Ngihtmare. Nightmare reads the drink part of the menu wiht a serious and thoughtful look before looking up at the fire elemental. he pauses for a moment before speaking "Can I have a root beer float?"

Light's flames flicker happily as they note it down "One root beer float for the very polite skeleton." they looks at them and wait.

Dust hums and mutters "Same." Light nods nad notes it down.

Killer looks at the different drinks and settles for some latte coffee which he will probably put an unholy amount of sugar into. DUst would be worried about the caffeine if he didn't already know that caffeine just didn't affect Killer.

Horror ends up asking for some fresh mint tea and Cross just asks for sparkling water.

With those orders out of the way Light lets them be to look at the menu. Some items hit the guilt filled part of his soul as it reminds him of things of the past but he shakes it off. Those are normal menu items. Even so Dust decides to take the chicken and egg dish. Mostly because it seems like a this universe thing.

Horror ends up picking the same as Killer ends up going for an unholy amount of fries. Nightmare ends up picking pumpkin soup and Cross joins Nightmare with his order.

Light brings them their drinks, which honestly? Rather brave of the fire elemental to bring them liquids. They take their order and leave for a short while to get everything ready.

Nightmare goes back to listening to the live music as Dust and the other three make light conversation. They keep their conversation vague as they talk abotu old missions and stupid stuff that happened. They share chuckles and it is honestly nice to relax.

Their food is brought over and Light looks at them nervously "So... How is the flower doing?"

Horror looks up before answering "It is well. It stands in the window near the fire place."

They had ended up moving the burning flower there as it served as a nice night light for Nightmare. Nightmare denied being uncomfortable in the dark but Dust thinks the darkness still freaks him out a bit now that he lost his nightvision after becoming little again.

Dust can only imagine the panic he feels if he thinks he was left alone agian. Abandoned again.

It is also why Cross invested some of the hard earned cash into fairy lights and strung those up all along and above the nest. Light it up better.

Nightmare slept much more soundly and woke up less int he middle of the night now and for them it hardly mattered if it was dark out or not.

Light, heh, lights up as they say they are happy to hear that before happily skipping off.

Dust snorts and shoots Cross an amused grin "they are enchanted by you." and he snorts again when Cross sputters.

"Hardly!" Cross glares as he blushes and his arm disappears out of view again. Luckily Killer sees and nudges where the arm used to be, bringing it back into view.

Cross crosses his arms and huffs.

Killer grins and winks at Cross "I can see why. soldier boy is so strong and reliable and a true knight in shining armour." and he winks again.

Cross sputters and his blush grows even darker as he looks away from Killer "Stop being weird..." Killer laughs and hugs Cross.

Horror watches them with a fond look before turning his focus on Ngihtmare and getting him to eat his soup. Something about little babybones needing energy to heal and grow.

Dust gets to work on his own meal as he watches the others. Soul feeling warm and content to see them all here. He really likes not being alone anymore.

*---------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

And if you haven't check out Spotaus's lovely drabble !!

[sainamoonshine]

My unpopular opinion is that in languages with grammatical gender like french, it does make sense for Murderbot to be referred to by whatever pronoun is usually used for robots or constructs. (In french, therefore, grammatical masculine.) Because there are no traditional « it » pronouns in these languages for objects, and while there are neo-pronouns, they are things one must choose for themselves. Do you honestly think MB actually spent time thinking about its pronouns?! No it didn’t. On forms it picks « non-applicable ». When people ask it what pronouns they should use, its honest opinion is « why do you even need to talk about me. Just don’t fucking do that. Don’t think about me either. Just fucking stop perceiving me altogether! »

Thinking about what pronouns to use probably makes it way more uncomfortable than letting people call it what they’ve already been calling it. Making a conscious choice about its identity? And telling other people about it??? No thanks bye, it’s just gonna walk into the ocean now, see you never.

Lbr it probably thinks the only bots that get fancy pronouns are comfort units, and the pronouns are probably shoved into them by humans same as everything else. MB would meet a bot using a neopronoun and it would wish it could barf. Because in a language like french, he/him and she/her, when applied to objects, ARE fulfilling the function of the english « it ». Nobody is saying the table is a woman or related to feminity in any way outside of stand-up comedy; when it comes to objects grammatical gender really has fuckall to do with human gender even if we use the same words. Even animal species names have grammatical gender and everyone gets that there are male and female turtles even if the word « turtle » is a female word, it’s not that confusing.

(I know this is strange when your language has different pronouns for people and for objects, but understand that english uses the same word to indicate if I’m addressing one or many people, and that is confusing to me.)

TL;DR; stop harassing international fans for not getting the correct MB pronoun in english right off the bat. Yes in english calling it « he » or « her » or « them » is upsetting because it’s projecting an identity unto it. But same goes for trying to get a foreign language translation to use a pronoun intended to express or showcase an identity (or even a lack of one!). Murderbot has not thought about it this hard, refuses to think about it this hard -> and that is its only canon accurate gender identity.

[skitskatdacat63]

Nando being silly in S2E2 of his doc 🥺

[robinfollies]

me and the guy i pulled by accidentally implying i like jazz music

[kenobihater]

so we all know the explicit sakai deer imagery, right? despite stags being associated with kazumasa, deer are still an appropriate symbol for jin as well (fast, silent, peaceful rather than predatory by nature but still capable of killing). since jin = deer, what would ryuzo best be represented by? maybe there's some textual hint, or hidden dialogue that we could go off of? maybe it's not explicit, but-

yeah, no. the game literally awards you this trophy right after you recruit him. the only way i think they could get more explicit with the shady wolf analogy is by calling the trophy "the big bad wolf", or "wolf in sheep's clothing".

ryuzo - passionate, unpredictable, violent ryuzo - being compared to a wolf is fitting, even more so when you consider the trophy refers to multiple wolves, meaning the straw hats. he was taken in by them, an unruly, masterless group, and he became their leader. despite betraying jin, he doesn't lack loyalty entirely; he only remains loyal to those he views as family after they took him in following the tournament.

his primary motivations in the narrative are staying fed, and providing for his family. he doesn't care about playing nice, or fighting clean, or lessening collateral damage. if his belly is full and his family is fed, none of that matters, and i can't think of a more apt description of that mentality than wolfish.

[braingobrrr]

can't believe that in order to finish writing my fic i have to Finish Writing it. life is so unfair

[menlove]

cut to chord: subliminal flash of love-making

Paul swore his heart stopped beating. His hand stilled mid-air with a strand of Jane’s hair still wound between his fingers. George’s mouth was dropped open, though he quickly closed it to bring his hand to his mouth and give a wolf-whistle of his own, dropping his hand with a cackle. But Paul couldn’t laugh if he tried. John was at the bottom of the staircase now, leaned against the white railing with a bright grin on his painted lips. In the time between him disappearing and reappearing, he’d gone and changed costumes. John and Paul always matched for Halloween, but this year was different.

rating: explicit pairing: john lennon/paul mccartney additional: modern au, rocky horror references, halloween, bottom john, rubber soul era

happy halloween and happy late birthday john lennon i hope you would've enjoyed dressing in drag and getting fucked because that's what you're getting. hope y'all enjoy this was a labor of love!

[seeminglydark]

hi!!! can i ask why john doesnt talk when hes little? does he use asl? also take this 🤲💝

you can! he experienced delayed speech, some kids just dont talk for a variety of reasons, in his case its a bit trauma and a bit learning disability related, even as a little kid he was so afraid to say the wrong thing he just didnt. he is observing, and reading everything around him instead, actually much like Adult John. He does use ASL at this point, (basic signs as a child taught to him in school, he didnt have much stimulation or encouragement at home, but hes really stubborn so he continued to learn into adulthood which is why in Seemingly Dark he randomly knows how to communicate with the Hitchhiker!)

luckily he found caro, who never shuts up, and doesnt mind that he doesnt talk back much since clearly hes interested in what they are saying and not being mean to them or cutting them down. They learn signs from him, in a secret language kinda way, but also eventually with the constant presence of someone talking at him, he opens up and becomes the chatterbox class clown we know sully as now. either way, Caro loves him in any stage of himself, talkative or not, which certainly helps a guy feel a little better about himself.