#everything sucks but sucks less since I was able to write

[onlythebravest]

-

[pearlymel]

A Dragon and his Muse— Neuvillette

SUMMERY : As days turn to weeks, a wordless routine develops. You arrive, set up your workplace, then you lose yourself in your art. Neuvillette takes his usual seat, sometimes pretending to work but secretly admires at your creations.

WC : 8.5k

WARNINGS : Neuvillette x afab!reader, reader is a painter, fluff, smut, crack, a sprinkle of angst, love at first sight (?), inexperienced Neuvi, NSFW mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, premature ejaculation.

NOTES : this is one of my favourite piece out of everything I've written, probably because neuvi is my main and he's very sweet <3. I wish it was more slowburn but i suck at thoseI hope you enjoy reading it as much as i loved writing it.

His office is too quiet. His mind is too loud. Too messy.

Everything seemed just not in place, it was the constant overwork and less appreciation, not that he’s really complaining. But it was taking a toll on his energy nowadays.

Constantly for 400 years.

A thud on the glassy window wasn’t enough to grab his attention, but once the noise continued, he finally turned his attention away from the papers

Ah, it was a bird. Knocking on the window using it’s beak.

oh dear, it’s friend joined, but rather than knocking on the window, it flew straight into the glass and fell down.

Neuvillette stood up slowly from his stiff cushioned chair, walking towards the large window, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room.

Upon reaching the window, he gazed contemplatively down, lost in thought, his gaze was drawn once more to the two birds. The first bird, still pecking at the glass with a persistent curiosity, seemed undeterred by its previous failure to gain entry. The second bird, now recovered from its fall, fluttered its wings and joined its companion, pecking at the window with renewed vigor. There was something almost endearing about their determination, a small yet poignant reminder of persistence and companionship.

He reached out to open the window, so they can fly away. This place isn’t suitable for them after all.

His eyes fell to a certain melusine, unmoving. Just like a statue.

And there you where, someone he didn’t recognize, he noticed how your hands were covered in all sorts of paints and stains. Your hair had random streaks here and there, and the look on your face… you were enjoying yourself, despite looking a bit serious.

Hm, he tilted his head and continued to watch you paint the melusine, it was a bit relaxing to say the least, though he couldn’t help but observe your features more and the way you dressed up.

You definitely weren’t from Fontaine.

Perhaps… a tourist? He thought then leaned against the edge of the window, crossing his arms.

He was too lost in thought that he didn’t notice the paint on your fingers that are now on your face. A smudge of dark blue paint right under your eye.

The dear melusine abruptly stood up from the wooden stool chair, and it’s like she was able to read Neuvillette’s thoughts, she gestured you to bend down so she could wipe the stain off your under eye.

You both laugh, a sound that seemed to break the tranquility of the room in the most gentle way, although not quite audible from above, it was calming to hear such noise. Neuvillette observed this interaction with a faint smile, feeling a strange sense of warmth in his chest. It had been a long time since something so simple had brought such a calm feeling to his chaotic mind.

This is embarrassing…

With a shake of his head, he took one last glance down then returned back to work, where he unfortunately belonged.

—

he doesn’t even know why he’s standing by the window again, it’s been days since he admired, observed you painting.

One day it would be the nature, the next another melusine, then a random couple or a best friends.

But you weren’t there today like he expected you to be, it’s has only been a week since he was watching you, did you already leave Fontaine?

He sighed, he knew it wouldn’t be forever to watch some random stranger have fun with the colors, but he was a tad bit disappointed to find you gone so soon.

And now be finds himself in lyney and lynette’s magic show, sitting with the crowd on the front row, hands resting politely on his lap while he waited for the preparations and people to join in.

“I’m so sorry,” he hears a voice from behind him, followed by a gentle thud, the person most likely apologizing for bumping into somebody, he doesn’t pay much mind to it to turn around.

This person walks through the narrow row, carefully stepping past other seated passengers, muttering quiet ‘excuse me’s’ with each step. They finally reach his row and, with a polite nod, maneuver past him, their bag brushing lightly against his arm. After what feels like an eternity, they let out a long sigh of relief as they settle into the seat next to him, adjusting their belongings and making themselves comfortable.

Today is crowded, he thought, glancing around the packed space.

He blinked in surprise when there were fire poles starting at the stage, everyone clapping and gasping in excitement. A laugh emitting from next to him, followed by the rapid claps of their hands.

The laughter rings in his ears, it was almost familiar, listening to it in the air… relaxing as the colors splash—

Oh,

Oh.

Neuvillette is too afraid to even look to confirm it was you, sitting next to him all along. He was frozen in place, gloved hands gently clenching on his thighs as he kept his eyes glued to the stage.

Wait, why would he even be nervous? Maybe it was odd because he kind of knows you in a sense, but you don’t.

He finally got the courage to glance at your way, trying to be as discreet as possible. And there you were, the same paint-stained fingers now clutching your bag, probably full of brushes, eyes wide with wonder at the magic unfolding on stage. You turned slightly, catching his gaze for a brief moment, and he felt like he was caught in his act, both of you awkwardly staring at each other for a good five seconds before you awkwardly speak.

“It’s like a cinema,” you utter out to him, and he’s bewildered. A… cinema?

You both then awkwardly adjust back to your seats, continuing to watch the magic unfold like nothing ever happened.

Maybe he should’ve said something instead of leaving you hanging like that.

At the end of the magnificent show, the crowd claps in sync, and Neuvillette notices how your eyes shined in awe at the twins bowing down.

“Your first time?” Neuvillette decides to speak this team with a lot of thinking through.

“yes.” You nod, “I've never seen something like this…”

And he hums, observing how you were excited over this little thing he sees occasionally. Was it that rare?

“I feel like it is rude to be speaking to you without letting you know of my name,” he clears his throat, “I am Neuvillette.”

Such a unique name, you think. “I'm…” you say your name out firmly, “I'm a painter or an artist.”

“i know.”

You raise both of your eyebrows in shock, have you gotten famous already?

Upon seeing your expression, Neuvillette's eyes widen slightly in horror, it now sounds like he was some sort of stalker watching your every movement.

“What i meant is that.. that I've seen you paint.” he clarifies quickly, keeping his voice smooth and composed.

Seems like you've really earned yourself a medal.

“It's nice meeting you, Neuvillette. But i have to go…” plus you suck at small talks, so this was a good excuse.

“right, my apologies. Be careful on your way out.”

Neuvillette feels… odd, to say the least as he watches you leave in a hurry with your bag slinging over your shoulder.

You seem interesting, like a new breath of fresh air, and he wanted to know more about you. Anything to talk to you more to ease the unfamiliar fuzzy feeling in his chest.

Alas, he doesn't have time to make new friends, he'll only have to hope to bump into you next time.

—

Another broken quill.

Neuvillette watches as the ink runs down on the paper, completely ruining it, and he sighs to himself.

The weather is awful today, the rain just continues to pour down because of today's trial. What even is justice anymore?

He pushes himself out of his chair, maybe watching you paint will ease the amount of work—

But all he's met with is the harsh rain, remembering that obviously you wouldn't paint in such weather.

I ruined their day, Neuvillette thinks. And it only causes another frown to appear on his face, although the frown leaves as quickly as it came when he narrowed his eyes outside the window, watching a figure sitting under the building, seemingly waiting for the rain to pass.

Upon the realization it was you, Neuvillette doesn't hesitate for a moment. Without a second thought, he leaves his office with quick movement, the rain is still falling heavily, but he doesn't care. All that matters to him is reaching you.

There you were, sitting unbothered right outside, your legs stretched on the concrete with a notebook on your lap.

“You…” it was the first thing he managed to utter, and yet it was enough to catch your attention. “Oh, it's you.” You smile at him, standing up while dusting the dirt off you.

He should've told you to stay seated, to not bother you.

“I'm sorry about our last encounter, i didn't know you were the Chief Justice of Fontaine.” You quickly say out, your hands behind your back and your head lowered.

“No apology is needed.” He tries to reassure you, “I am more concerned about your well being. The weather is inconvenient for your art.” And the slightest frown appears on his face again, but you surprisingly don't seem as sad as he was. “When the sun comes and the rain stops, the prettiest rainbow and sight touches the sky. And it's worth waiting for—besides, I'm not bothered by it at all.”

Neuvillette only stares down at you when silence follows after, he feels reassured back that the rain, caused by his emotions, didn't make you upset.

And you notice, the way his shoulders seem to relax, his eyelids no longer weary, showing the slightest softness to it, and the downward curl of his lips disappearing in a matter of seconds.

The rain.

“Oh,” you watch as the rain starts to slowly stop, leaving only a few patters and drops of the earthy scent lingering in the air. “The rain stopped.” You seem more cheerful, he noted. You sat back down on the concrete, watching the sky brighten once again.

It's been a while since Neuvillette had seen something so simple and pure. And he would like to join you this time as you talk about your love for colours.

“I'm not sure if it's appropriate to ask someone like the Iudex to sit with me,”

“… i would love to join you. But please, just address me by my name.”

—

Today's sight was different, it was more colourful, more cheerful, was he the only one who was cooped up in his office while missing out the fun?

Neuvillette looks around, left and right, there are melusine's with colours and drawings adoring their faces, adding a bit or—more personality to each Melusine.

Even children and adults.

"Good morning, Sedene," he talks to the melusine right outside the door of his office, his eyes lingering on the butterfly painted on her cheek.

"May I ask what the face paints are for?" he inquires, his curiosity piqued by the unusual sight. “It's from the artist, Monsieur. One person asked for their face painted, so everyone wanted one.” She responds instantly, pointing at the drawing on her cheek. Neuvillette's eyebrows raise in surprise at Sedene's revelation. It seems your artistic skills continues leaving a lasting impression on everyone.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he processes this piece of information. "I see," he murmurs, his curiosity only growing stronger. "And where might they be at?”

Sedene hums, turning around to point outside, “they should be right outside.” his gaze flicks to the entrance. So you're nearby, and he can't deny the flutter of anticipation he feels at the thought of seeing you again.

He clears his throat, "thank you, Sedene," he says before nodding in farewell and making his way towards the entrance.

There you are. Giggling while talking to each one in a soft matter, and the Iudex can't help but be mesmerized by the way you work, the concentration and care you pour into every brushstroke.

The sight of you amidst the children and melusines, their faces adorned with vibrant colors, is both heartwarming and intriguing.

“Monsieur!” Neuvillette visibly freezes when you call out for him, and he glances at you, your hand waving for him in the air.

He must've been too occupied admiring your work.

His legs seem to lead the way towards you on command, watching how your smile only brightened, “take a break, want me to paint your face? Or maybe your hand?” You ask, gesturing him to sit on the stool infront of you, and the others giggle.

“i suppose I can't say no…” he replies softly, taking the glove off his left hand to stretch out for you.

“and what symbol would you like?”

“a water droplet, perhaps?”

You begin almost right away, taking some blue and white paint, blue for the colour of the droplet, and white for the shiny details.

Your hand envelopes around his, and while it's a normal gesture, it doesn't stop Neuvillette to make him have weird feelings stirring in him, how your fingers brush against his skin, he notices that. Or when you squeeze his hand unintentionally to focus perfecting the shape, he also feels that.

“you have nice hands, Neuvillette.” You whisper while now adding some white highlights, and this time, he squeezes your hand unintentionally. “Thank you.” He manages to say something back to your compliment.

Just a normal compliment, nothing to overthinking about.

“All done.” The warmth of your hand leaves his, and he raises his hand infront of him to look over at the final finish.

A symbol that represents his love for water, he couldn't be more satisfied with it.

“I will see you next time.” You wave once again at him before tending to your other ‘clients’.

Next time, it's like you're also wishing to see him again.

That day, Neuvillette tried not to wash off the symbol on his hand, wanting to keep it on for as long as possible.

And now, here you both are again, about the next day.

Neuvillette listens intently as you talk to him over a cup of tea, his eyes fixed on your face as he absorbs the details of your story. The mention of your journey from one nation to another makes him sit up a bit straighter, his curiosity piqued.

"Indeed, that sounds like quite the long and eventful journey," he muses out loud, "But to uproot your life and come a lomg way here, it's quite a bold move.”

You take a long sip from your tea cup, “how so?”

"Well," he begins, "it takes a certain amount of courage and determination to leave everything behind and embark on such a journey. It's a significant change and a leap into the unknown, which most people tend to shy away from.”

To be fair, it was your first time travelling out of your nation, you never intended to visit Fontaine first, but you heard about the lovely views this nation has.

"I understand, for me... I just needed to see the other nation's aesthetic and culture. So I won't be staying here forever."

Won't stay. That's all Neuvillette heard that came out from you, "Ah," he whispers, his voice stiff, "I see. So you don't plan on staying in Fontaine permanently, then?”

You shake your head, "Oh no, i plan to stay for a certain time before visiting another nation... Maybe sumeru next.." you continue talking, not noticing how stiff the Iudex has gotten, mindlessly speaking and spouting about your next travel. Each word out of your mouth about your future travels and eventual departure from Fontaine causes a hint of disappointment to grow in Neuvillette's chest. He listens in silence, his expression growing more sullen with each passing moment.

He had grown accustomed to your presence, enjoying your cheerful banter and easy conversation. The realization that you don't plan on staying in Fontaine for good is a bitter pill to swallow.

—

“Monsieur, you have a gift.”

Neuvillette remembers Sedene delivering a vase filled with white flowers earlier, she says it's a gift from you.

And until now, hes continues glancing at the vase sitting on his desk while he handles some papers. The question was, what was your intention behind this beautiful gift? Or was he perhaps overthinking the whole situation? Maybe you just gave it because it has art or some meaning behind it… sure, he could think of that.

But he wants to think that you gave it because of something more, because your heart raced everytime you both talked, or how his whole mood would change when he hears you laugh as he makes a silly joke to try and be light-hearted.

Poor Neuvillette, he doesn't understand these feelings that he felt for you, he thinks he's being a creep with you.

What if you weren't comfortable in his presence? He doesn't know, he wants to understand, understand these human emotions he was feeling deep in his heart.

He feels hot from overthinking, even though the weather is good enough to walk around without sweating, his hands clench against the sides of the tables.

He can't concentrate.

Neuvillette calls for the melusine again, informing her that no one is allowed to enter his office for the next three days.

—

“he's sick?” Your frown deepens when Sedene explains to you to why she barricaded your way from entering the Iudex’s office.

“Monsieur Neuvillette told me not to let anyone enter for the next three days.” Sedene says cautiously and you both just stare at eachother. “What if he needs medicine?”

“he insists he doesn't.”

“Being sick isn't good, what if he's unconscious right now?”

“oh no, don't worry.” Sedene smiles to try and reassure you, and your shoulders slump in defeat. “… can you send him this instead then?” You hand her a paper bag filled with different desserts you both agreed to try—for a break.

“Right away.” She takes the paper bag and skips her way through her desk to put it on the back.

You're so evil for this, but you're determined.

You hurriedly and quietly make your way inside his office while she was distracted, and when she peeked her head up to see you gone, she just shrugged it off, thinking you left already.

You don't move further when you see his head resting on top of his desk, his hair splayed out messily and his arms under his forehead.

You're concerned, just how could anyone leave the chief of justice to suffer all alone when he's done so much? It didn't make sense.

You don't mean to startle him when you were by his side, your fingers brushing over the burning skin to check his temperature and your eyebrows furrow.

But your wrist were suddenly being grabbed by him, and you gasp. His eyes half-lidded when he starts examining your wrist, still unaware that it was you in this very room with him.

When Neuvillette takes in your scent that seems to linger on your skin, his eyes snap up towards yours and he pushes himself away.

“I-i’m sorry—” Neuvillette was quick to fix his disheveled self, one you've yet to see. The Iudex that always kept a presentable appearance seemed to be dazed at this very moment.

“I'm sorry,” you echoed his apology, not meaning to entirely frighten him with your sudden appearance. “I heard you were sick, so i wanted to check up on you.”

Neuvillette had one had gripping the wooden desk to the point his knuckles turned white, and his eyes diverted his attention away from your face, “i assure you.. I'm fine.” he stands up, hurriedly, turning around to somehow avoid you.

Only if you know, you'd be disgusted from him. He needs to drive you away from here—or else you'll drive him towards insanity.

“can i.. check up and take care of you?”

damn it. Who is he to refuse? Especially when you asked so nicely.

Neuvillette is now seated on the couch per your instructions, a blanket wrapped around him because you were convinced he felt cold despite his fever.

Sedene is now not even surprised you didn't listen to her, she only sighs as she brings the herbal tea you asked from her.

“It won't work.” Sedene tells you flatly at the door, but you take the cup anyway, “call me if you need anything more.” She says one last time before you wave her off.

“here, herbal teas are the best when you're sick.” You carefully hand him the tea cup, “it's hot.” You warn him softly, and he takes the cup just fine—thanks to his gloves.

“did you get the tea from Wriothesley?”

“… who?”

“no—nevermind, thank you.” He offers you a weak smile before nearing the cup close to his lips, then inhaling sharply to take in the scent of the strong herbs, just anything but your scent.

“Are you comfortable like this?” You ask while adjusting the blanket around him and he only nods while taking a slow sip.

Leave. He wants to tell you, it's already dizzying.

He crosses his legs before clearing his throat loudly, almost like coughing on purpose.

And you are already scooting closer while patting his back, you're doing the complete opposite of what he's trying to let you do. “Are you okay?” You tilt your head to take a better look at his face, his neck twisting to the other side. And you notice just how red the tips of his ears were.

“How about i fetch you some cough medicine?”

“I will be just alright without it, thank you.”

You press your lips together into a thin line, he seems to be refusing everything. Or maybe he's just stubborn when sick?

“you need to eat,” you stand up to grab the paper bag filled with croissant that you bought earlier from a nearby bakery.

You don't know what his favourites were, so you bought a variety of things.

“this one is not sweet, it's buttery.” you rip a small piece for him to try, but he still keeps his head away from you.

You are already frowning, “Neuvillette, are you upset with me? Could you please look here? I just want you to get better…”

That's all it took for him to snap his head back to your attention, he would hate to be the source of your sadness, and that little change in your tone said it all.

You smile when he faces you, “say ‘ahh’.” You laugh quietly to yourself as you near the piece closer to his lips, and he only watches in amusement at first.

“i didn't poison it.” You joke, and it manages to make his lips curl, “I'll eat it first to prove it to you,” you now piece of croissant between your teeth before on it with your mouth closed while humming.

The remenats of the croissant lingered on your lips, and he can't seem to tear his gaze away from your bottom lip.

You notice, of course. Assuming it was crumbs, you glide your tongue along your lower lip, leaving a glossy sheen to your lips.

You weren't even trying, his mind just decided it was attractive coming from you.

And his breath quickens, his pupils dilate, his hand slides along the couch right to your side, and god you smell just so swe—

“Neuvillette?” He blinks, and he's met with your confused face. Just then he realizes his head was tilted to the side, gestured to leaning in.

Oh god. You're going to so hate him.

“leave.” He abruptly stands up, brushing the blanket off his shoulders to walk towards the window, opening it for him to breath some fresh air. “… please.”

“Okay.” You don't argue back, you respect his privacy of being alone. And you stand up to carry yourself out of his office before shutting it close.

Sedene wants to ask you what happened, but she doesn't bother when she sees how your hand is resting above your chest to feel the quickening of your heartbeat as you slowly make your way out.

What was that?

—

“I owe you an explanation.”

“you literally don't owe me anything,”

“Do you hate—”

“Neuvi, i don't.” you tap at his arm, giving him a sincere smile before laughing. “It's not a big deal. Sick people tend to be stubborn.”

Neuvillette has healed after a week, and he immediately asked for you to hang out together again after he fully recovered, and you suggested you both talk over a picnic.

That's how you find yourself under a tree, above the cottony blanket beneath both of you with a basket of goodies on the side. You also brought two canvases with you, because why not?

Neuvillette contemplates whether he should tell you about his true nature, he fears you'll never talk to him afterwards.

“Something's on your mind,” you mindlessly speak as you put the canvas on his lap, “let's paint together, I'm sure it will ease our minds a bit.”

He now focuses on the way his brush strokes the white canvas, now filling it with different colours, he wants to try every colour, and you encourage for him to do so.

“i am not who you think to be,” Neuvillette starts as he continues gliding the brush.

“Mm, do tell. Are you a fairy?”

You earn a chuckle from him, and you chuckle right back, “or perhaps a merman?” You raise an eyebrow, yet your eyes don't leave your art.

“neither.” He sighs, “I am the… Hydro Dragon Sovereign.” He mutters under his breath, and he could see from his peripheral vision how you seemed to stop your work.

Both of your eyes meet, his of worry, and yours of curiousity and shock.

“no wonder,” your voice lowers and his eyebrows furrow before his eyes widen when you reach to brush your fingers along the shape of his ear. “It makes sense now. This is very interesting.”

He's at a lost. You were not upset, nor angry or anything, you were more amazed than any of these pessimistic emotions.

His shoulders relax, he was worried about nothing. It was you after all, the most understanding, gentle human being.

“thank you for telling me.” You now keep your hands to yourself, “as for me,” you turn to hold your canvas again to show him your newly art piece.

“I'm actually a turtle.” You try not to burst out laughing when you show him the detailed drawing of a baby turtle next to a pond, he looks quite shocked and mortified.

“… i would not like you to be a turtle.”

“why? Because they're slow?”

He shakes his head while trying to hide his smirk, “That's one,” he quips before it was his turn to show his canvas, “you remind me art.” You witness his painting, and you think it's the most beautiful sight.

It's a brown canvas with all sort of colours that blend well together, and you could clearly see the flower at the bottom of it, showing that it was growing. “I'm jealous,” you pout, “i should've painted a dragon, had i known you were one much earlier.” You groan before making a mental note to yourself of what your next art should be.

Neuvillette laughs. A genuine sound coming from him as his hand finds his cheek to try and hide any signs of redness. The sound makes you feel the familiar feelings whenever you were around him, shyness, happiness and the racing of your heart.

He calms down after a breath before speaking again, “I trust you won't spread our secret.”

“The secret will die with me.” You reassure him. “though i am curious now, maybe i should buy books about dragons?” You speak your mind while smiling mischievously and he shakes his head in response, “you shouldn't tire yourself with such matters.”

“it's not tiring, it's more interesting.”

"I understand your curiosity," Neuvillette replies with a gentle smile, his eyes softening at your enthusiasm, and he keeps his attention to you, since you're everything he ever thinks of these days.

“I will miss this.” You prop your elbow on your thigh as your chin rests on the palm of your hand, “i know you're a busy man, and having the privilege to meet you like this so often… i feel lucky.”

No. You? Lucky? He's the lucky one. You're the only person he's excited to see after a long trial. The only person he's enjoyed having company with in a very very long time.

He had grown quite fond of you in the short time you've known each other, he forgets that you'll leave soon, "When... when do you plan to leave Fontaine?" He asks, his voice reluctant.

“… in two weeks.”

Neuvillette nods slowly. A week... That's all the time he has left with you. He's quiet for a moment, processing the information. Then, he speaks up, his voice quieter than usual, "just a week, huh?”

You can feel his mood shift, and you can't help but be upset. You think you have upsetted him a little too much, you want to reach your hand out to him… but you keep them to yourself when you see how he seems to ponder in his own thoughts.

—

The weather is bad. You note, the clouds seem to darken as you continue your walk, a few droplets falling from the sky and right on your cheek, and you quickly hold your bag close to you, you can't afford ruining your art supplies now.

You wanted to pass by Chioriya Boutique, you hear it's a popular fashion label, but with the current change of weather, you will most likely postpone your plans to tomorrow.

Oh no, you need to seek shelter. Rain is pouring harder now, and you witness how the citizens expressions turn to disappointment.

The kids playing nearby stop their feet from kicking the ball around as well.

“hydro dragon, hydro dragon! Don't cry!” You're surprised to hear one of the kids chant and run, was this some fontanine thing that you didn't know about? Come to think of it, you heard it once when you were painting on one rainy day, but you didn't pay much mind to it.

You smile at the silly words as you try to imitate them, “hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't…” your smile drops when you realise something, and your eyebrows furrow.

Hydro dragon? Crying? Could the rain possibly be—

You don't waste time when you begin running towards Neuvillette's office. The only place where you're guaranteed to see him.

The rain is pouring harder now, drenching your clothes and hair, the puddles splashing from your feet and dirtying your shoes and pants, but you're too focused on getting to him to care about your condition.

Finally reaching the doors to his office, you barge in, panting slightly from the rush.

“Neuvillette!”

Neuvillette turns away from the rain-soaked window, his eyes widening with surprise and a little startled as you burst into his office, panting and calling out his name. He takes in your drenched appearance, confusion and surprise etched across his face.

"Are you okay? Hurt?" He asks, striding towards you. He's worried. He's afraid of what must've happened to you.

"N-no but—the rain, are you.. upset? Is the rain from you?”

Neuvillette's eyes flicker away for a moment, avoiding your gaze. He had hoped no one would catch on to the connection between his emotions and the weather, but you being here, figuring it out after that children's chant, means he can't deny it.

His heart aches, yet he doesn't want to lie to you, "yes," he admits, "the rain is... it's a result of my emotions.”

You take a step forward while water drips from your hair strands, “is it my fault?”

He shakes his head vigorously as you blame yourself for his upset. "No," he insists, his voice firm yet gentle. "It's... it's not entirely your fault. Yes, you're leaving, and I'm... I'm not taking it well, but my emotional outburst isn't your responsibility." He, as well, moves closer to you, his fists clenched to his sides.

“i don't know, i don't like upsetting you.” You frown.

Seeing the sadness in your eyes, he reaches gently to touch your damp hair, his fingers brushing a few stray strands out of your face, "you're not upsetting me," he reassures quietly. "I... I'm just struggling to accept the thought of you leaving. That's all. It's not your fault.”

Your arm reaches out for him, Neuvillette stiffens a little when he feels you wrap your arm around him. Your shivering body against his own, your face buried against his shoulder... it's both soothing and stirring.

His heart races in his chest as he gently returns the embrace, one arm encircling around your waist, and the other holding you close, it's comforting, you feel warmer, even when you feel your eyelashes dampen a little.

His hug is gentle, tight, it's as if he's hugging your soul. Just when you were the one who wanted to comfort him.

“I will miss you.”

“so will i, although I'm just a normal person.”

“No, you're not.”

“how so?”

Neuvillette presses his lips together, "You make me feel things I've never felt before," he confesses quietly. "You make my heart race, my palms sweaty, my mind confused... yet, in a good way. You make me feel alive.” you lift your chin from his shoulder, your hand coming up to caresse the smoothness of his face, and your lip curls upwards.

“Can i…” your eyes are glued to his lips, and you don't sense yourself nearing closer to his face. Neuvillette's were wide when you come closer and closer to his face, his hand fisting the fabric of the back of your clothes too tightly, and he gasps quietly as your cold, damp lips meet his own.

he's too stunned to respond.

But as your lips remain pressed against his, he slowly melts into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. This was his first kiss, and it was with you, the person who'd stolen his heart in such a short span of time.

Neuvillette can't believe what's happening. Your lips against his, the way they fit together perfectly, it makes his heart race in his chest, his head spin. He reciprocates the kiss, his lips moving gently against yours.

Your arms wrap themselves around his neck to push yourself closer, your fingers brush at his hair, and it makes him shudder.

you kiss him harder, your lips ravishing his own. He follows your lead, his inexperience showing in his slightly clumsy, but enthusiastic response as you smack your lips in soft kisses over and over again.

You seperate your lips away from his, but it doesn't last before your thumb parts his lips gently, “open your mouth.” You whisper, he obeys, slowly opening his mouth, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

An involuntary moan escapes Neuvillette's lips as you plunge your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own. He's never experienced anything like this before, his arms tighten around your waist, his fingers digging slightly into your hips, as he responds to your kiss, his own tongue clumsily trying to match your pace.

It's addictive. His taste, his touch, you feel selfish enough to want him all for yourself.

You both pull away when you fell the oxygen run out from your lungs as you inhale back sharply. Your hazy gaze meets his half-lidded one's and you think you've never seen such a prettier sight.

“… have i gone overboard?” You whisper, and he swallows thickly before resting his forehead against yours to close his eyes, “no..”

The rain has stopped, the pattering against the window nothing more than a soft drizzle.

He runs his fingers through your damp hair, feeling how it clings to your face, and how your eyes seem to lit up.

A soft smile plays on his lips as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. The world outside seems to have calmed along with his emotions, mirroring the peace he feels in your presence. He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, savoring this intimate moment between you.

“you have your own life, your own path to follow. I can't keep you here, it's not fair to you.” He wants to keep you to himself, he's too selfish, and he knows it.

And you're greedy, and you know it.

You part your lips to protest, but his eyes tell you everything. He just wants you happy, to continue living your human life and not waste it.

That he, will be just a memory to you. A precious one. Just how you will be the most treasured memory that he will keep in his heart.

—

“Monsieur Neuvillette, i got you the macarons.” Sedene taps his desk lightly to grab his attention as sets the plate and water cup in front of him.

“Ah, thank you, Sedene.” His fingers pull at the plate to take a better look at them, ever since you left Fontaine about a month ago, Neuvillette never stopped ordering the sweets you used to give him every now and then.

Every day, Neuvillette finds himself missing your presence.

He goes about his duties, attending to his role as Iudex, but his mind is often elsewhere. Despite his attempts to focus on his work, he keeps finding his thoughts drifting back to you, memories of your time together replaying in his mind.

At night, he lies in bed alone, the silence in his quarters almost deafening. He finds himself reaching out, almost subconsciously, as if looking for a body that isn't there.

Or when his fingertips brushed along his lips to try and feel your cold lips that day, was it a goodbye kiss?

“Is it about that artist?” Sedene speaks her mind when she notices how dull the Iudex gets as the days go by, even though he tries to act unaffected per your words. He wouldn't want the nation to drown in his tears just because of his own reasons.

“This reminds me,” She takes out an envelope from the pocket of her uniform before standing on her tip toes to hand it to him before making her way out.

The envelope was neat, with a pretty designed stamp on, Neuvillette opened it carefully before taking out it's contents.

It's you. Or, a photo of you. Smiling brightly with the aranaras, it makes him smile to himself as he traces the photo. You look even more charming than he remembers.

There's another note with the photo, but it's a vague message. A written location here in Fontaine, with a specific date and time.

Neuvillette is confused, was this a message of your return? And based on the date, it's three days from now. He will try to clear his schedule for the set time, he doesn't know what to expect, maybe a gift awaits for him, he wishes you wrote more, but that was the end of it.

—

Neuvillette stands in front of the wooden door, hesitant to knock on it. This is the place, the exact date and time. The sun is disappearing for today, and it's the moon's turn to show it's face.

He knocks twice, the sound ringing in the still air. Just as he was about to go for another knock, the door opens, and he barely comprehends what's going on before he feels a hand pull him in, and he gasps.

He's startled in the moment, but all of Neuvilette's worries and frustrations melt away when he realizes it's you who threw their arms around his neck, he wastes no time in returning the embrace, pulling you tight against him.

He holds you close, his arms practically enveloping you as he buries his face into your shoulder, relishing the feel of you in his arms again.

“Such a vague message you sent me,” he tries to speak light-heartedly, and you giggle in response. He's now assured it's your laugh.

“I've missed you.” He whispers next to your ear to make sure you hear the words, “I've missed you more.” You whisper back, mimicking his gesture.

“impossible.” he retorts, the corner of his wrinkling from how much he's been smiling.

And the moment your lips meet his to shush him, Neuvilette feels like he's come alive again. He responds instantly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against him.

He knows how to kiss you now, hopefully he does it the same as the last time.

He kisses you passionately, now devouring your lips, hungrily trying to make up for every moment you were apart. The taste, the texture, the feel of your lips against his, it all floods his senses, reigniting the spark that's been missing since you left. And he remembers it all.

Neuvilette follows your lead, stumbling a little as he's guided backwards towards the bed. His mind is filled with a haze as you strip off your coat, he finds his hands roaming over your body while panting softly as you staddle his lap. His emotions are a mess, but what he knows is that he needs you more than he's ever thought.

“Neuvillette,” you utter his name in a soft, low tone. It makes his jaw slack a bit when you kiss at the skin of his neck, and he tips his head back to give you more space. He's all yours.

He thinks he's about to go dizzy, it's all unfamiliar, he's overwhelmed that he doesn't know what to feel first. But you going slow for him makes him want more and more—

His head goes blank when your middle and ring fingers slip inside his black glove to feel his skin against yours. You slide the material off with each to intertwine your fingers together.

You're incredible, he thinks—knows.

“Can i go further?” You ask, and he doesn't hesitate to nod, “paint your lips on my body.”

He expected to feel the graze of your teeth along the curve of his collarbone, what he didn't expect was for you to palm his bulge, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. The tips of his ears grow redder and this is the most embarrassed he's ever felt. He can feel himself growing harder with each touch, his body reacting instinctively to your ministrations, and he can't help but thrust upwards.

“M-mon amour, i… i—” he cannot bring the words, not when you're showing him too much love and affection all at once.

He's never experienced such intense pleasure before, and the thought of reaching his release so quickly is both exhilarating and terrifying. He wants to savor every moment, to prolong this incredible feeling, but his body apparently had other plans.

You stop when you hear him almost whimper, it takes you by surprises. When your eyes search for his—all you're met with is his half-lidded full of lust gaze. You realize what had happened when you felt the damp spot sitting on the fabric.

he grabs the back of your neck gently to pull your face right in his hair, “give me… a minute.” He clears his throat before giving your intertwined hands a squeeze.

“May i?” He mutters, “mhm,” and his hands beginning to undo the buttons of your blouse, revealing the smooth skin beneath. He leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of her breasts, which makes your grit your teeth together because you know you'd be moaning too fast with whatever of his touch landed on your skin.

His fingers trace the lacy edge of your bra, feeling the material before Neuvillette's lips find yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, and his hand slips beneath your bra to cup your breasts. And this time it successfully managed to make you moan against his lips.

One clasp, and your bra falls from your body to reveal your bare self, he thinks it's a sin to stare at such a perfect body.

“you're perfect,” he rasps against your skin. His hands map the contours of your body, memorizing every dip and swell, as he trails lower.

Neuvillette's mouth finds one pert nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand cups your other breast. He lavishes attention on your chest, alternating between licking, sucking, and gentle nips, until you are arching into his touch, your breathy moans and whines filling the room.

His other hand slides down your stomach, fingers dancing along your hip bones before dipping between your thighs after having rid of the unecessary barrier between you both.

He wants to touch you in the way you like it, and so sensing his hesitation, you take his hand in yours, and he groans at the wetness he finds there, his fingers gliding easily through your slick folds.

When you guide his fingers through your slit, you stop at your clit, and he takes it as cue to circle your clit with the pad of his thumb which ultimately makes you moan louder, your hand leaving for him to take control.

Neuvillette captures your lips in a searing kiss as he keeps your thighs parted for him when he feels you wanting to close them together.

Your heart races, with each tight circle around your sensitive nub, it makes you pant softly, your lips parted before gasping in surprise when you feel him slowly pushing one long finger inside you, relishing the way your walls grip him tightly.

It's warm, it's tight, how would he even fit inside you?

He experimentally curls his fingers repeatedly before setting a steady rhythm, curling and thrusting his finger to hit that perfect spot inside you. He was already so hard that it was starting to ache and throb, he wishes to have some self control just for now.

“gonna cum—” the minute he heard you say that, he withdrew his finger out of you which makes you whine at the loss. “Wh—” the words die on your tongue when you watch him undress, his hand holding his prettily flushed cock right at the base to position himself between your legs, “I am an impatient and greedy man, forgive me,” his voice is soothing as he pecks your lips before you feel his fat tip starting to stretch you at your entrance, and you both groan in relief.

Your hot and tight walls clamped around him when he thrusted forward to bury all of himself in you at once. Which literally, almost makes him cum if not for the way his gripping your thighs so harshly.

He presses your thighs down until they reach the sides of your ears, it makes your back arch, and your cunt swallowing all of him as he buries his face into your neck, “H-hah please relax—i can't, you're going to make finish sooner again—” you listen to his quiet pleas, and you try to relax your body, you also want this to be a lasting moment.

Neuvillette's heart pounds in sync with the rhythm of his thrusts, he can feel your nails digging into his shoulders, your hips rocking to meet his movements. The sounds of skin slapping together in the air is so lewd that he tries to divert his attention elsewhere.

His thrusts grows sloppier by the minute as he breathes heavily, his cock twitching inside you before he starts increasing the pace to reach both of your release, one hand leaving your thigh to rub circles around your swollen clit, and suddenly, you're crying out, your body convulsing beneath him as your orgasm crashes over you. He groans, the shivering sensation of your cunt squeezing aroud him sends his face into your neck, muffling his cries of ecstasy as he empties himself inside you. He cums harder than the first time, as if emptying everything he has to give you until a white ring forms at his base.

Your eyes roll back when you feel so warm and full, your legs giving out tiredly as you both relax in the comfort of one another.

Yeah, you're tied to him now.

—

“I'd like for you to treasure this painting.” Neuvillette frowns when you gesture towards the large canvas that took you months to finish.

It's you, and him.

Living with Neuvillette feels right, although he doesn't steal your freedom and passion to continue travelling around different nations, as long as you come back to him, your home.

you wish for him to travel with you one day. He already promised you to after all.

“It's marvelous,” he comments, almost breathlessly. He'll have to hang it where it's only visible to his and your eyes.

He knows why you do this, why you create simple art that's a memory of both of you. Favourite food? You'll draw it. Favourite hobbies together? You'll catch the moment right on the canvas with extra vibrant colours.

“One day when i—” he doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't want to hear how one day you'll leave this world permanently and he'll have to live on. Painful years after years without you.

“I want to treasure every second with you,” he lifts your hand up to his lips, for him to kiss the back of your hand before his thumbs rubbed over your knuckles.

You give him a reassuring smile, “you are going to be a wonderful experience until then.”

“and you… will be everything to me, even after that.” Neuvillette smiles back before exhaling deeply.

[xoxochb]

— here comes the sun ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: just headcannons pairing: riordanverse boys x daughter of apollo

percy jackson loves how good you are with your bow and arrow. he sucks majorly at archery so when you found this out you did everything in your power to teach him to be just as good as you were. this took four months. but! the good thing was that he learned eventually. it took this long solely because every time you were explaining something his eyes would trail down to your lips and he’d zone out and one thing leads to another now he’s kissing you and now you’re kissing back and now you’re not even in the archery field anymore— it’s a whole thing. during the fourth month you got sick of his nonsense and forced him to finally listen to your words and he ended up finally learning basic archery (he later earned a reward for his obedience). besides your great archer skills you’re also skilled at painting. like usual, percy loves to fool around. you’ll have your canvas out and paint sprawled along your pallet but this dumbass takes a finger of paint a spreads it over your face. you both end up covered in paint and your work long forgotten. you made a mental note never to let him paint with you again, but knowing percy and his gorgeous sea green eyes you had no choice but to let him join you again. though you do warn him not to play around with your paint or he’d wake up blue (he probably wouldn’t mind this though)

jason grace is utterly obsessed with your singing voice— most to all nights this is the only thing that can soothe him to sleep. but not even just during the evening, it’s basically mostly throughout the day when you’re singing to him. sometimes you even play a variety of musical instruments to add onto the factor (he ended up learning how to play piano thanks to you). and!! another thing he loves about you is your poetry, especially when the poems are about him, those make his knees go all weak and his cheeks flush pink and he’s such a school girl, it’s ridiculous. but he loves your poems regardless if they’re about him or not, he likes listening to your sweet-like-honey voice and your extremely high vocabulary (gods, he loves your high vocab). along with your love for poems you also share a love for reading, often you’ll find old books to read together, whether it’s together, or separately then you talk about them later, he adores talking about nerdy books together. and since writing is something dear to you and your siblings you wrote your own novel some day with the help of your boyfriend (he’s your number one supporter), including a sweet dedication to him as a thank you and an I love you

leo valdez takes advantage of your healing abilities. every hour he shows up in the infirmary with a new injury whether it’s a small cut or something serious. after a while you started to realize he was purposely hurting himself so he could see you during your work. you scolded him for this and told him you’d much more appreciate his visits if he wasn’t hurt all the time. so after you told him this he started spending less time with his trinkets and getting hurt and more time bothering you in the infirmary (additionally bothering your patients). you’ve found, though, it’s not so easy to care for your patients when your boyfriend has permanently attached himself to you, you eventually had to restrict him from seeing you during your working hours. but do you think this would stop him? no it did not. every day he would wait for you outside as you work, your siblings scold him and tell you to take care of him so that resulted in you getting kicked out of the infirmary too. though with this new free time and all your siblings busy you were able to get the cabin all to yourselves!!

luke castellan is pretty sure every room you walk into instantly brightens up with beams of sunshine (not even figuratively, he really does believe this). your aura is enough the blind the regular man— but lucky for luke he is no regular man, he’s your boyfriend. unfortunately, this does have its downsides, which includes you waking up at the literal ass crack of dawn watching as the sun rises. slowly and carefully you slip yourself from his arms to sit on the porch of cabin eleven as you watch the sky switch from a dark purple/black hue to various colors including orange, pink, or yellow (sometimes all three if your dad is feeling generous enough). over time, though, luke realizes you aren’t in his arms anymore— the first time this happened he was confused and searched frantically for you, but eventually he gets used to you waking up early. on some mornings he will sit outside with you (he loves the way your irises get all bright and yellow at this time of day), he likes how everything is quiet and tranquil and this is one of the only times he’s able to spend alone time with you. he savors these moments over anything else in his life

[ellieslittleburrow]

Summary : John Winchester, your father, is protective of you

Warnings : swearing and cute John

A/N : should we write more John Winchester?

-----

John Winchester, a man of many flaws. Sammy can attest to that, he suffered the most from John's decisions. Dean would stand against that, he's been John's boy since the day he was born. Dad this, dad that; That doesn't mean it isn't complicated, though.

You on the other hand.....umm....not suuuure where you stand really, where do you stand?

Everything felt different for you with John. Everything. His love for you was established since the beginning. He got a spark in his eyes whenever you were around that neither of his two boys ever got the chance to see, even Dean.

You were his baby girl.

There were the times where he stood up for you. The bullies??? Never stood a chance. There was that one time in particular when you got h-

"Hey! What did i tell you about slamming doors?" A scolding growl sounded, one that would usually....send shivers down your spine. This time it left you unbothered, or maybe fueled your anger even more.

In an attempt to not cry in front of the Great Winchester, you hurried to the bed assigned to you and threw yourself into a sleeping position, your back facing him.

"HEY" his growl grew angrier and you just hugged yourself. You didn't need him exploding your eardrums on top of everything else that had happened that day. His steps closed in on you and soon enough, your waist was gently being pulled back- you were facing him.

As his eyes navigated around your face, his features simultaniously softened. The creases shaped by the frown on your eyebrows, the sucked in lower lip, the damp eyelashes, all signs of-

"You were crying?" A stupid question that John needed no answer to. He somehow knew why, too. But he asked anyway. "Was it the kids at school?"

With that-you force yourself back on your side. "I told you not to force me into a new school."

Your mumble is muffled but John already knew what you were going to say-you've had this conversation many a times before.

"Come on" Your father tapped your butt before heading towards the door. And your curiosity itched your brain and you turned around, sitting up.

"Where are you going?" You asked and he glanced at you over his own shoulder, a mischivious smile embellishing his face.

"Just get your ass up."

Over in the car, John turned to you. "Do you know where this kid lives?"

You took your damn time to respond, both of you will get into trouble buuuuuuut.... A smirk ghosted your lips. "Yeaaaah?"

"Good, that saves us a lot of time."

You nervously chuckled. "A lot of time for what, dad?" The Impala roared as silence followed your question. You sort of understood. And as you directed him towards the bully's house, your stomach tightened in a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"Right there, the Cayenne, his father's." You pointed at the car and your dad shamelessly parked his own only a few couples of meters away.

Another nervous chuckle left your lips as your head popped forward. Your eyes followed your dad as he jumped out of the car and headed for the trunk. The hood popped up for a minute and then your dad reappeared with what seemed to be a....BAT?

You jumped out of the car and distress shot through your veins. "Dad" You called for him but he'd already made up his mind and as you stressfullly walked behind him, he casually headed for the car, the bat vibrating in his hands. "Dad, you're gonna get us into trouble." You whispered as if whispering would make the crime your father is about to commit any less obvious.

But John totally ignored you and he swung the bat before sending it into the Cayenne's back window-the glass instantly chattered. You flinched and before you were even able to process the first hit, a second one echoed through the quiet neighborhood.

You flinched again. "Dad, st-"

"I'm only doing this for you, honey." John rounded the car and stopped at the front of the car. "If it were up to me, i'd slice the boy AND his father." The third swing hit harder, more violent. And the alarm continues blaring. "All he had to do was teach his son some manners. But since he can't do that, i'll teach 'em both a good lesson."

There's that story, and there's another one. Where you're being you, and for you, emotions have a like, a giant gravitational pull on your life-just like this time.

You and dad have been on the road for almost two days-stupid shapeshifters and it's that week of the month that's the most chaoti-- and this stupid fucking booth is weird and squishy and-

Your cheeks grew hot and wetness suddenly streamed down your face. When John noticed, he blew out a long sigh. He shut his eyes slowly, bringing his index and thumb to the opposite sides of his face, rubbing roughly.

Not fucking cool, dad. This shit's tiring enough. 'You know what-" You stop midsentence, rushing off to the bathroom but a sudden strain pulled you back.

"No-no, i'm sorry, honey, i'm sor-"

"I'm already tired enough." Your voice came out full and rough, heavy with the build up of saliva in your throat. "don't need you making fun of m-" You were about to yank your wrist away when he held it tighter.

"Come on that's not what's happening here." John swiftly got up and faced you. "I just-i'm tired too, kid. I-" He sighed again, and you wiped away your tears.

"Coooome here." Too slow but too sweet-and not a question either, your dad reached for the back of your head and brought it to his chest. He planted a kiss over your hair and gently swayed both of your bodies left and right. "Dad's here." His tone might've been gentle, but it still bore a hint of annoyance.

He doesn't mean-he "You don't mean that-you're just saying it because i'm-"

"Noo i do mean it, baby, i do-" he sighed once more. "I'm just tired. That's why i sound like this." He planted a second kiss on your forehead before boaring into your eyes. You dropped your gaze down in the process, too-

"I'm sorry." His thick eyebrows softened back to their normal position. And his bunny teeth appeared. Amused, he hesitated to speak for a few seconds. "You know you're too old for this right?"

You pinched his waist, causing him to jerk back, choking on a chuckle.

You sniffed, throwing embarassed glances his way. "Shut up."

"I'm sorry, honey."

What the hell is wrong with me? Is the first thought that comes to mind. There sure are many more stories to tell about the great John Winchester. But to sum it all up, you are indeed on his fucking side.

-----

@marvelfanfn2187a113

----

WOO WOO, i hope yall made it to the end. See ya next time 🖤🖤🖤🥀🥀🥀

[nsfwjjkwritings]

Could you write something about Yuji and Gojo with a partner that finds it hard to… “finish” from penetration? It’s something I’ve dealt with my whole life and it sucks so I would love to know how you think these two would react!

just want to say i deal with the same thing so don’t feel like you’re alone on this!! so many women deal with this and i feel like it’s almost never spoken about so i hope this helps any negative feelings you may have! and with that, let’s get into the request :)

✭ YUJI IS AGED UP TO BE 20 YEARS OLD, READ THE RULES IN MY BIO BEFORE YOU COME TO MY ASK BOX WITH HATE PLEASE AND THANK YOU ✭

-

Gojo

• Since Gojo is more experienced in the bedroom, he’s not extremely shocked when you tell him about not being able to come from penetration. He knows that plenty of woman require clitoral stimulation to be able to finish, and he’ll use a vibrator on you every time if he needs to. In fact, he actually prefers to use the toy on you because it makes it so easy for him to overstimulate you.

• Though Gojo teases you relentlessly about anything and everything, this is the one thing that’s off-limits in his mind to joke about. He knows without you having to tell him that you’re frustrated about needing the extra help to be able to climax. Never once has he ever made you feel insecure about the issue, telling you that it’s completely normal and something that you have no need to feel bad about.

• Even if you never end up getting to a place where you’re able to find your release with only penetration, Gojo truly couldn’t care less. That doesn’t mean he’s completely given up on the thought, just that as long as he’s able to make you feel heaven in other ways, that’s all that truly matters to him. In his own words, “it’s not about the destination, but the journey.”

-

Yuji

• When you tell Yuji you’ve never been able to have an orgasm from penetration he says “that’s unacceptable” and proceeds to lay down, telling you to use him until you come. However long it may take or however many different positions you may have to try before you find your release, he doesn’t care. He won’t give up until he feels you clench around him.

• Yuji has done plenty of research on the subject of how to make his partner feel good during sex. When he first started being sexually active he wanted to make sure he had at least some grasp on the matter. He knows that the first step of making his partner come is entirely dependent on the mind. He’ll work extra hard to make you feel completely comfortable and relaxed, and he does so with mind-blowing foreplay. Whatever he does that elicits a moan from your lips he’ll make a mental note of to keep doing.

• Failure for Yuji in this department is just simply not an option. Every time you have sex after you make him aware of your little predicament, he makes it his mission to try and get you to an orgasm while he’s inside you. He’s constantly asking you things like “does that feel good?” “do you like when I do this?” and “what if I move like this, does that feel better for you?” He’ll try a million different positions with zero complaints because he only feels good when he’s making you feel good.

[generalllimaginesss]

author’s note: I blacked out while writing this, so it will be as much of a surprise to me when I wake up and reread it as it will to you when you read it for the first time. It wasn’t requested, just something that my brain came up with and wouldn’t let me sleep until I finished it. It’s loosely based off of Olivia Rodrigo’s The Grudge and the movie Sweet Home Alabama (my favorite movie). Also, this is completely made up in my head and in no way reflects something that Luke Hughes has done, or will do. It’s also 2:06 AM and I can’t promise that it’s proofread very well because I can barely keep my eyes open (I worked a double today).

Warnings: cursing, ANGST, cheating, kinda sad but has a good ending. Slow beginning, but I promise it gets better!

Without further ado….

The Grudge

“Hello?”

The single word that was the catapult for the demise of your relationship. The single word that changed the course of what you pictured your future as.

Luke’s side of the call was silent, the only noise able to be heard was his breathing, heavy as if the weight of the world was crushing his lungs, deflating him of life.

He wasn’t supposed to be calling. He had told you he was having a guys week, a time for him to regroup with his brothers and friends at the lake house. It was his own little sanctuary away from the life that he had worked so hard for. A quiet place. He had asked for that time, to which you agreed, he needed a break.

“Luke? Everything ok?”

He wanted nothing more than to hang up the phone in that instance. The reality that he was about to destroy the last bit of trust that you held for him constricting him as he fought with his vocal cords, trying like hell to form some form of vocalization.

“I need to tell you something,” He managed to squeeze the words out, every bit of courage mustered into it. The feeling of facing the mistake that he had made seemed impossible compared to simply just refusing to acknowledge it. He could ignore it all, ghost you, and pretend like he had never ruined everything. He had ruined your relationship, your love. You. He had ruined you, including everything that came from the relationship the two of you developed a couple of summers before he had left to play for Michigan.

Ironic that it would begin and end during the summer.

“Ok. Are you-”

“Are you alone?”

His brothers will kill him when they find out, but your family? The thought of them being there to wipe your tears and listen to your rants that have to do with him break his heart. He had developed a special relationship with your dad, your mom always put a stocking out for him during the holiday season, your brother? He had taught your little brother how to skate, how to play hockey. Even though he couldn’t coach your little brother’s team, he had supported him since the beginning. He had bought him his first jersey. 43.

“Yeah, Luke. You’re scaring me.”

“God, I fucking hate myself. I’m so sorry,” Sobbing, the sound of his arm wiping his nose could be heard. He knew he shouldn’t cry. He chose this.

He knew he didn’t always treat you like you should have, no deserved, to be treated. He didn’t spend time with you like he should have, he didn’t tell you he loved you enough. When you yelled at him about things, he would scream back. He would never hit you, but his words cut through your core, sometimes feeling worse than what you imagined the sting of one of his slaps might feel like.

The anxiety that stemmed from Luke’s call gripped your lungs, confusion coursing through your body outweighing the blood that sucked at carrying the oxygen at the moment. There was nothing random about your relationship, he didn’t surprise you with anything, much less a phone call.

Something is wrong.

The silence was deafening, overwhelmingly so.

“I tried to tell myself that you would never find this out, but there was somebody taking pictures and I need you to hear it from me first, ok?” He closed his eyes forcing himself to find some shred of courage left inside of him.

“Ok,” The word was breathy as it left your lips, a courtesy to encourage him to continue.

“I cheated,” It flowed out of his mouth in such a casual way that it felt like somebody had stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife and watching as you writhed in pain. The taste of iron flooded your senses as you bit your cheek to hold yourself together.

“We went to one of the local bars. She was the bartender, she knew us. Trevor invited her to the house after her shift and me and her ended up alone together while the others were out back and one thing led to another…one of the guys took a picture and posted it on their story. They forgot about you.” He tried to explain it in a way that redeemed himself. He was only 20 years old…this bartender could’ve taken advantage of him, but you knew him.

He didn’t get close to just anybody, he was the gate to his space. Nobody would get through the gate if he didn’t want them to, including this girl. Which made the bile that was building in your throat much more bitter. The fact that he not only cheated, but is trying to play victim makes you bubble with rage. Luke Hughes was very good at many things, but the one thing he had never quite mastered the role of was “victim.”

The shock coursed through your body like metal to a magnet, searching endlessly for something to smash into and deciding your heart was the place to do that. It felt like you forgot to breathe, your lungs aching for a breath.

“Y/N?” He willed you to talk, silence causing more anxiety than your anger ever would have.

“I never would have done this to you,” Your whisper spoke more volumes than a scream would have, cutting through the phone and going straight through Luke’s body. He wished you would scream at him, tell him he fucked up, but the way you said those words made him feel like this was it. He couldn’t come back from this one.

“I’m sorry,” His words were meaningless, but he spoke them nonetheless.

Those two words sent you into a silent rage, one that wrecked the inside of your mind but couldn’t be seen by anyone else. You hung up the phone, throwing it across your room and immediately packing everything that had to do with Luke into a box that you found.

Packing 4 years worth of things that you acquired from him was emotionally draining, each article triggering memories through the years.

His first Michigan Hockey sweatshirt that he had bought himself packed into the bottom of the box reminded you of the date he had planned. He had snuck the two of you into the arena when no one was there and taught you to skate, skills that still stick with you to this day. His first hoodie became yours that night, the smell of his cologne long gone from the comfort it brought you many nights when you felt lonely.

A Devils snow globe and jersey that was decorated with the number 43, his number, packed next. He had bought it for you the day he was drafted, convinced that it would be worth something one day. And it was. Just not to you anymore. The snow globe was attached to a memory that was better left forgotten. It was for your birthday, which happened to be the day after his. When you had gone all out for his 20th birthday, buying him a new custom suit and designer shoes that required months of savings, he gave you a snow globe that “you could add to your collection.” You had said some backhanded things to him, a huge fight came from that. A fight on your birthday, something else that you would’ve never done to him.

The last items consisted of hoodies, a few pairs of sweatpants and boxers, and a couple of jackets. The last thing, however, was something that you didn’t know if you could part with.

It was a letter that Luke had wrote you for Valentine’s Day the second year of your relationship, a sweet surprise that you weren’t expecting with your usual bouquet of daisies and roses, your two favorite flowers.

When you doubted your relationship with Luke in the past, when arguments and fights felt like it was all it consisted of, you always found your way back to his letter. He had told you that you were his end game, that there would never be somebody else that was better suited for him. He poured his heart out in that letter, telling you that he was going to marry you one day. One day when he had made it to the NHL and could roll in money, he was going to buy a rock for your finger and a huge house for all of the babies that you talked about.

Rereading the letter normally made you remember the good times, when things were good, but under the circumstances now it made you want to burn it, to watch his words turn to ash, just like the promises he had made to you.

Meaningless. His words were meaningless now.

It wasn’t always his fault, no. There were instances where you said things that you knew hurt him, things that echoed in the back of his head every now and then. Something along the lines of him never being as good as his brothers, that he would always be in their shadow. That Luke Hughes would be known as “just another Hughes brother.”

Some days he felt like that statement couldn’t be more true, that he would never live up to the records that Quinn and Jack seemed to break every time they stepped on the ice. Some days he just couldn’t see it coming together for him.

But other days he knew he was determined to make a name for himself, for Luke. The Hughes name was a force to be reckoned with. Luke wanted to be even better than his last name. Whatever it took, sometimes at the expense of those around him.

You snatched the letter that was stuck in the corner of the mirror that perched on top of your dresser, the sound of the paper crisp beneath your fingertips. As much as you wanted to destroy the letter, you figured it would be better to send it back to Luke. He needed to see all of the promises he broke and hurt he’s caused.

The paper was the last thing in the box, folded neatly on top of everything else.

Closing the box, you carried it to your car, placing it in the backseat behind the driver’s side. If there’s one thing that could be payback to Luke, it was telling his parents. He thrived on his parent’s approval, likely a symptom of being the youngest brother of an extremely successful family.

Ellen and Jim’s faces burned the back of your mind, so many memories that consisted of the two of them. Countless games at Michigan were spent with the two of them, as well as a couple of trips to New Jersey. You had helped Ellen cook supper many times, and watched as Jim coached his sons. Ellen’s pep talks were rarely intended for you, but you always felt like something could be learned from her wisdom.

The drive was silent, muscle memory the only way you could manage to get there in the state you were in. You didn’t know if the lights were green or if you used your blinker, all you could think about was Luke admitting to cheating. All of the shit you had been through with each other, all of the petty fights, had finally come to a head. You may have gone low, below the belt at some point in time, but this? You never could have ruined him like this, no matter how bad you wanted to.

As hurt as you were, you were numb. Tears wouldn’t fall, your body still in shock over the news.

As you drove up the paved driveway to the house that had become your second home, the emotions hit you when you saw Ellen in the flower beds, digging up weeds and planting new flowers.

She had heard a car approaching, causing her to look up and recognize you. Although she loved for you to visit, you normally didn’t come over unless Luke was with you, especially now that him and Jack owned the lake house.

She wiped at the sweat that was beading her forehead, dirt from her work gloves sticking in some of her blonde locks that were glued to her face. She smiled at you, before confusion flashed and she saw that you were carrying a box.

“Hi, Doll! Luke’s not here, but I’m glad you stopped by!” Her warm tone and kind smile didn’t fade, even if she did notice something off about your demeanor.

Her voice broke you. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her and Jim into this. Maybe you should have just threw everything that connected you to Luke in a garbage can and called it a day.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” She walked towards you with her arms open, noticing your quivering lips and teary eyes.

She was drenched in sweat from the summer sun, but you didn’t mind it. Dropping the box on the driveway, you allowed her to wrap her arms around you tightly. Her embrace gave you comfort as sobs racked through your body. How could such a loving mom and dad create such a jack ass? They had done perfect with 2/3 of their sons…what happened with Luke?

“Do you want to go inside? Jim’s working on a sink faucet, but he won’t mind,” She ushered you inside, her hand gently pushing your back.

Nodding, you wiped your nose on your sleeve and allowed her to walk you inside. She quickly washed her hands at the sink Jim was working at, earning a few objections from him, but she hushed him and motioned to you.

His face filled with concern as he noticed something wrong with you. He could fix a lot of things, but girls was something he would leave to his wife.

The leather of the couch soothed the heat that the summer sun had left on your skin. Ellen joined, sitting next to you as she rubbed your back, calming you. She truly was like a second mom.

“Is everything ok?” She held onto your arm, the pressure from her fingers sending tingles to your brain.

“No,” You croaked, the single word rattling your throat as it struggled to exit.

“What happened?” Her voice had dropped below her regular volume, but above a whisper. She cut her eyes at Jim who was attempting to listen from the kitchen.

“He cheated…”

The shock hit his parents as hard as it did you. Quinn would never cheat, Jack? It was questionable sometimes. But they’re baby? The one that had endured the lectures from his parents the longest, the one that had seen his brother’s mistakes and learned from them, the one that seemed so in love with you that nothing could ever separate you both? It seemed nearly impossible. Surely it was a mistake.

“How do you know? The press always lies…” She trailed off, your eyes connecting to hers.

“He told me,” The strength you tried to regain from your prior meltdown was useless as your voice trembled, “…said that he wanted to tell me before somebody else did.”

“Oh, Honey. I’m so sorry,” She pulled you into her arms, watching as Jim rounded the corner to join. You were like the daughter the two of them had always wanted, so seeing you hurt killed them in return. And at the hands of their son? They were immensely disappointed. They didn’t raise him like this.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, and I probably should have left you both out of it,” Your attempts at stopping the free-flowing tears were useless, so you embraced each one as it fell, “…um, I brought his stuff back. I know he’s at the lake house, but I don’t think I can see him right now. I really wish we could have worked. You two will never know how much you and your boys mean to me.”

“Likewise, sweet girl. I wish I could make this all better. You may not feel like it right now, but our family will always hold a spot for you,” Ellen reassured, a hum of agreement resonating within Jim.

“Anytime you want, and I’m serious, our door will always be open for you. No matter the time or circumstance, do you understand?” Jim waited for you to respond, a nod of your head, before embracing you again.

Their words meant so much, but the hurt still ached, seemingly never ending.

You said your goodbyes, taking in the house that you would probably never see again. The walls holding memories that only those in the house would ever understand or appreciate.

Closing the front door felt like closing a chapter on your life. A chapter that felt like it was ending in the middle with no resolve, but it closed.

It needed to.

———

As the New Year approached, your parents reminded you of the plans they had that would draw them away from home. They claimed that they celebrated Christmas with you, but the New Year meant that you were alone in a house that felt big and lonely while they celebrated with their fellow group of middle aged parents.

The months had passed, agonizingly, since Luke’s cheating admittance. The summer turned to fall and fall into winter, getting colder like you were allowing your heart to do.

A few dates here and there did nothing but remind you that the guy wasn’t Luke. They should’ve been better than Luke since they actually treated you with respect and checked every box that a girl had.

But the lack of teasing, of being the biggest pain in your ass and best friend, made the hole in your life bigger. You were sure nothing would help, not even the texts from Ellen and Jim, periodically, made it better.

They all consisted of the same topic: “How are you doing?”

It was the same old same old, until it wasn’t. Until Ellen texted you after Christmas asking you about your plans for New Year’s Eve. The Hughes had always thrown a party for the New Year, packed to the brim with people.

When Ellen asked if you had plans, you had every intention on lying and saying yes. Saying that you had a date and that he was taking you to see the countdown and fireworks that followed, but something told you to tell the truth. So you did.

After you had admitted to her that you, in fact, would be all alone, she reached out and invitation to join them.

The invitation had toggled in your mind for a few days now. On one hand, you wanted to go see how everybody was, talk to his brothers, catch up with his friends. On the other, you wanted to stay home in your pajamas and watch Andy Cohen get shitfaced with Anderson Cooper while wondering if Luke would kiss somebody for the occasion.

The saying “curiosity killed the cat” proved to be true as you had finally decided to go, a sparkly gold dress accentuated your curves, hugging you in all of the right places, the places that Luke had once yearned for. You don’t know how, but your makeup was flawless, your eyeshadow bringing out your eyes in a way that you had never seen, but you loved it. Maybe this was revenge?

Even though you hadn’t made the drive in over 6 months, you still knew it like the back of your hand. Your nerves were working overtime, anxiety squeezing your thoughts the closer you got to the Hughes’ residence.

What if Luke had a new girlfriend? What if his parents were the only ones that wanted you there? Was this actually a good idea?

Too late now.

There was probably 25 or more cars that littered the driveway, most carrying a minimum of 2 people. It was a relief, maybe you could just blend in with the rest of them. A chameleon in the house of your ex lover.

Music blared, drifting from the backyard into the front, making the walk to the door less daunting of a task. There was no use in knocking, the sound of talking and music would most likely just drown it out, so you took a breath as you pushed the door open. It appeared to be the spot for the more mature crowd, Jim spotting you as soon as you walked in.

He was confused as to who you were at first, but as soon as you gave him a shy smile his face lit up with excitement. He had missed you more than he realized.

“Y/N! What a nice surprise! Come in, make yourself at home,” He squeezed you in a tight hug before relinquishing you.

“Y/N! Oh my, I wasn’t expecting you to come, but I’m so glad you did!” Ellen squealed, the clinking of her heels against the hardwood floors becoming faster as she did her best to jog to you, embracing you like her life depended on it. It lasted a few seconds before she held you out at arms length, examining you.

“Gosh, you look absolutely stunning! That dress was made for you!” She gushed.

“Thank you! I just decided to throw something together last minute. I should have let you know I was coming, but I honestly didn’t decide until right before I got dressed,” you chuckled, explaining the lack of communication on your part.

“Honey, you do not have to explain a single thing to me! I’m just so happy you’re here!” She hugged you again, rocking you side to side.

“The kids, sorry, young adults are out back. I do have to warn you…Luke did bring a date,” As she explained the dilemma, you expected yourself to break down. When it didn’t, relief washed over you. It had been almost 7 months, why wouldn’t Luke have moved on? You couldn’t be mad at him for that part, but you still held a grudge against him for allowing you to love him as much as you did and shattering your heart in the end.

There was never another conversation between the two of you. His parents never brought him up, he had never attempted to contact you, so the resolve was the fact that you returned everything. He had nothing left connecting him to you. That was how it was supposed to be, so there was no need to communicate with you. He had gotten the message loud and clear when he had returned home to a box of his things in his old bedroom and an ass-chewing from his parents and brothers. One that he would never wish on his worst enemy.

He learned from his mistake, but felt like the very toxic situation between the two of you was better left where it was: untouched.

He had been trying to move on ever since, sleeping with any girl that reminded him of you, sneaking them out before Jack had noticed, or simply just embracing the newness of being alone. It sucked at first, but he got used to it.

Ellen’s face flushed with concern at the momentary silence that followed her statement, scared that she would scare you off with the news of her son, your ex, having a date that wasn’t you.

“Ellen, it’s ok! I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” Making light of the situation was easier to fake on the outside, but trying to convince yourself was a bit harder.

You talked to Ellen and Jim for a few more minutes, catching them up on the latest details of your life, and then grabbed a Michelob to give you some liquid courage as you walked to the backyard.

There was people dancing, circles of people talking, various games being played, the scene never-ending as your eyes scanned over them. A few people locked eyes with you, recognizing you as the ex, but most everybody just continued to do whatever it was that they were doing. It wasn’t until Quinn’s eyes softened from his party vibes to concerned big brother that you felt nerves wrack your body. He immediately excused himself from the group he was talking to, making his way through the small sea of people to get to you.

For a split second you wanted to run away, but the rational side of you talked you down. It was just Quinn. Quinn had done nothing to you except loved you as if you were his own sister, so why would you run?

“Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you…how are you?” You immediately threw your arms around his torso, him returning the gesture, his hug similar to the way Ellen had hugged you.

“I’m good! I had no other plans and Ellen seemed like she really wanted me here…”

“Yeah, she hasn’t shut up about you,” He laughed, recalling how his mom mentions you anytime a girl was over, even one that Luke brought, and always comparing them to you when they left.

You were the standard that she held possible daughter-in-laws to, but they never lived up to you, she would admit.

“Gotta love her,” You chuckled, a slight awkward tension fell between you, a foreign, icky, awkwardness.

“That you do,” Quinn tried to repair the conversation, but some friends began to pull him away. He had mentioned to not leave before telling him bye, and then left with the group.

“Didn’t think you’d show up here,” The voice turned your blood to ice, freezing up what the beer had tried to let loose prior. No matter how many ways you envisioned this interaction to go down, nothing could have prepared you for hearing his voice after so long. It wasn’t like “nails on a chalkboard” irritating, but more along the lines when you pick a scab and it starts bleeding again.

That’s quite literally what it was. He was an old wound in your life that was becoming irritated because it was being messed with. No matter how much time had passed, it was still sensitive.

“Well, didn’t think I would be here either. It’s just as much a surprise to me as it is to you,” You turned around, met with the beautiful, curly-haired boy that was once your everything and a petit blonde that was his temporary. She was gorgeous, you’d give her that. But it wasn’t real beauty. It was bought. There’s nothing wrong with that, but her bleach blonde hair, fake tan, and push-up bra was irritating like nails on a chalkboard.

“Do you mind going to get us something to drink?” He turned to his date, giving him the empty bottle that his hand wrapped around.

“Is that a Michelob Ultra?” You almost snorted, her question a breath of fresh air in this unfortunate meeting.

“Not her and I, you and I,” Luke quickly cleared up.

She left with a smirk playing at her lips, kissing his cheek and heading inside.

“God, please let’s go somewhere else,” He grabbed your arm, tugging you to a secluded, area beside the shed out back. Your brain told you to rip your arm from his grip and scold him for thinking it was okay to ever touch you again, but your deemed in control and allow his touch to erupt butterflies in your tummy.

“I don’t know what I was thinking bringing her here,” he groaned, realizing he was still holding onto you, quickly letting go.

“She seems more Jack’s type, if you ask me,” You suggested, Luke squinting his eyes at your words.

“Good thing I didn’t ask…” He may have been the reason the relationship ended, but he wasn’t going to put up with any slander that you had for his current life. The life that didn’t include you.

“Whatever, why did you bring me here?” You looked around at the spot. It had definitely been a spot where the two of you had snuck off to make out several times, escaping the teasing of his older brothers.

“To talk…” He shift his weight to his heels, his hands finding warmth in the pockets on his pants.

“Oh! To talk about you being a complete dipshit and cheating on me this past summer? Yes, let’s talk about that!” Sarcasm dripped from your voice like venom from a snake, targeting the next victim: Luke.

“I’m sorry…” Again, the empty apologies were beginning to grind at you now. You didn’t want the apologies or the excuses. You wanted him to shut up for once, hear you out, and then come up with a genuine apology. He had said his piece, now it was time for you to say yours.

“No, Luke. You’re not sorry for cheating, you’re sorry you got caught. Save the apologies for when you actually mean them,” You started, him immediately shutting up and listening.

“We were so fucking toxic. You know it, I know it. The whole world probably knows it by now. But, God, I loved you so much. I would have spent my whole life trying to fight for that stupid relationship and you turned around and threw it all away. And for what? Some temporary pleasure? You couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to get back to me?” Your words shot through him, like bullets hitting glass, shattering the surrounding areas. He couldn’t argue because everything that you were saying was true, but he’d be damned if he let you find satisfaction in being right.

“You said it yourself, it was toxic! You probably would’ve found a problem with me being there without you, anyway!” He tried to defend himself, but he was fanning a flame that he shouldn’t be messing with right now.

“Don’t you dare try to manipulate me into thinking your cheating was justified! Luke Hughes, I’ve said some fucked up shit throughout the years, but I never have, and never will ruin your trust. That’s the type of shit that lasts a lifetime. I can’t date anybody else because there’s always that ‘what if’ of them cheating!” Tears brimmed your eyes, softening the wall that surrounded Luke’s heart. He was a tough guy, but the sight of you hurting was a soft spot for him, an Achilles heel.

“You promised me a future, and then turned around and burned it to the ground without a second thought once you got a taste of fame,” Your finger poked at his chest hard enough for him to wince, expecting to see bruises the next morning.

“You’re a liar! A fucking liar and cheater!” Your voice broke as the words left your mouth, but Luke took the verbal beating that he deserved.

“Do you think I want to be labeled as a cheater, Y/N?! I’ve prayed for months that I’d just wake up and it not be real, that we’d still be together!”

“Awe, so sad, Luke. Truly heart wrenching!” You grabbed at your heart, feigning compassion as he began to clench his jaw, the muscle flexing as his annoyance rose. It was hot, but not hot enough for you to do anything about it.

“Stop being such a bitch, it may suit you, but it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.” His eyes grew dark, almost challenging you to see who would win in a game of insults.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was supposed to act however you deemed fit. Even if you’re a cheater…”

“I cheated, I’m not a cheater,” he tried to correct, a viscous chuckle tumbling from your mouth in response.

“I’m not! That’s the one and only time that it will ever happen, I can promise you that!” His voice rose in volume as he continued to defend himself.

“Oh, one and done Luke! How nice! My trust is fixed, so there’s nothing left to worry about!” The sound of people counting down in the background didn’t distract you.

10…9….8…

“If I’ve had anything in the past months it’s peace in knowing I don’t have to put up with your fucking nagging anymore!”

7…6…5…

“Yeah, and I don’t have to worry about you fucking some rando anymore!”

4…3…2…

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

1…

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The voices erupted behind the shed, but the whirlwind of a kiss muffled it all.

Luke eagerly pulled your face toward him, his lips colliding as intensely as a train hitting a car on the tracks. An accident waiting to happen, but there nothing that could be done about it.

It took a second or two, but you kissed back with the same passion as him, him pushing you backwards until your back hit the wall of the shed.

His lips were like home, sweet and comforting. The remnants of his vodka redbull tempting your taste buds to plunge deeper, but you didn’t, you let him set the pace.

One of his hands tilted your chin up, steadying it as the other pulled you closer from the small of your back. Every sense inside of you erupted in fireworks as his tongue tried to gain entrance into your mouth, but you stood your ground, or tried to at least.

The hand that steadied your chin found itself wrapped around your neck, the shock causing you to gasp as he gained entrance.

“Luke! I finally found something to drink, but we missed our-” The voice immediately tore the two of you apart, the fireworks over the lake and store bought pretty interrupting the fireworks that were going off inside of you. Your breathing was a little shallow as you tried to control it again.

“-kiss. What the hell.” She glanced between the two of you before storming off, her stiletto sinking into the grass as she desperately tried to remove it from her foot.

Luke groaned, but the chirping had just begun for you, “One and done, huh?”

“Me and her aren’t even dating!” He squealed.

“We’re talking about this tomorrow, Y/N. Do you understand me?” He pointed at you as he began to smooth over yet another failed attempt at dating, but he wasn’t going to reconcile that one.

“Aye aye, Captain,” You gave him a silly salute, earning an eye roll from him, but as soon as he turned away from you the smile wouldn’t disappear.

Call you crazy, but you hadn’t felt butterflies for a long time, probably since his note to you. What you felt tonight was an army of butterflies being obliterated by fireworks. The feeling of his fingers around your neck, his jaw muscle contracting, everything about him had turned you on.

Did you really fold that easily?

Oh well. The thought of the next day, the possibility of getting him back, along with his family far outweighed your pride.

He could be your Luke once more.

[sugarygetoo]

divine.

-> pairing: nanami x fem! reader

-> summary: the moment you walk down the aisle, nanami realizes just how deeply in love he is with you.

-> cw/ tw:  nothing (suprisingly lmao).

-> wc: 430 (dang, i fell off T-T)

-> song inspo: die with a smile - lady gaga, bruno mars.

-> an. suprise! it's yena! yes, i'm alive, yes i wrote this, yes, this sucks. i suck at writing fluff, but what are you expecting from someone who's 20 and still never even held hands with a boy romantically (please help me, i want to stop being single PLEASE)💀😭

starting a new masterlist for certain fics that were inspired by certain songs, so make sure to keep an eye out for what is basically my way of giving out song recs lmao

apologies about not writing more often, i'm just much more of reader then i am a writer so I've just been reading a crap ton, so I'm sorry!!!

forgive me, i'll write more angst i promise 🙏

main masterlist. | yena's playlist.

✎ xoxo, yena.

“i, i just woke up from a dream. where you and i had to say goodbye. and i don’t know what it all means. but since i survived, i realized wherever you go , that’s where i’ll follow.”

there were no words to describe the feelings that nanami feels in his body right now. 

you are so, so beautiful. 

as he watches you walk down the aisle towards him, he feels as if everything around him has disappeared, all he could see was you. from the way your hair was done to how you look divine in that pristine dress as if it were made solely for you. 

his heart is beating so fast that he’s sure he might not even make it through the rest of the event. his hands are shaking from nervousness and wet from sweat. every step you took felt like cupid’s arrow shooting him in the heart over and over again, and everytime time he made eye contact with you felt like lightning shooting through his entire body.

you were everything that he’s ever wanted and more.

“nobody’s promised tomorrow.”

by the time you arrive right in front of him, nanami is sure he’s no longer breathing. you looked like the epitome of an angel and he couldn’t believe he was gifted the opportunity to stand in front of you and declare his love for you. 

holding his hand out for you to take, he couldn’t help but tighten his hold on your hand. the heat radiating of from it reminds him that this was real.

that this was all, very, very real.

he was getting married. to you.

“so i’m gonna love you like it’s the last night, like it’s the last night.”

he felt like crying. 

being able to hold onto you like this and stare into those eyes of yours that he loves so much. he’s sure his heart is beating loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear, but he couldn’t care less. 

not when you stare at him as if he was the most precious person in the entire universe. not when you wrap your warm, comforting hands around his. not when the biggest, sweetest smile blossoms on your face as your eyes slowly turn red.

nothing else mattered. 

nothing, other then you.

“if the world was ending, i wanna be next to you. if the party was over, and our time on earth was through. i wanna hold you, just for a while.  and die with a smile. if the world was ending, i wanna be next, to you.”

@ sugarygetoo, all rights reserved.

[desertskiespodcast]

Mental illness does not care about your creative endeavors. It doesn't care about...well, anything. It just is. And what "it" is, is sometimes (most often) not conducive to a consistently productive artistic life. And damn. It sucks. Because all I wanna do is make and make and make. Create and create and build and craft and..yeah. And sometimes I can't make and make because of depression. You might know what that feels like. My particular brand of neurodivergancy means I'll spend seasons incredibly over the top productive in my creative pursuits (though those seasons have become fewer since I began pursuing mental health recovery) and other seasons when I'm too low to be productive (and those seasons are fewer too, but maybe not as infrequent as I'd like). And maybe you too are sometimes inhibited by the sudden worsening of your symptoms. You draw less, you write less, you act less, you...get the picture. The thing I wish I'd known when I was younger is this; the inability to produce art as consistently as I'd like is a really shitty reason to not make the art I love when I'm able to. I do not think that living with a mental illness automatically means a person is more creative. I do believe that I like the art a person suffering from a mental illness makes more than I would otherwise. I think the reason is this. Those who live with depression, anxiety, OCD and the like, they're more likely to embody the human condition in its extremes than those who live relatively symptom free (I'm so thankful that some of you live symptom free). It can be difficult to communicate emotions in art, it's always comes across just a little bit muted. That's not to say art isn't emotionally powerful. We know it can be! But what's in the head almost never gets completely out. What with all that bone and everything. But the person who feels the real big feelings is going to make something that, though slightly muted as it may be, will nevertheless come across extremely human. And as a human, I enjoy stuff that feels very human. Most people do. Human people that is. So, if you suffer as many do, with the symptoms of a mental illness, please make your art as your symptoms allow. There's no rush. We need what you make because it's going to make us feel what you feel because what you feel is amplified human emotion. It speaks to us. I feel the need to add this: Do not avoid the pursuit of mental health because you think being free of, or experiencing less of, your symptoms will ruin your art. It can't. You never forget the big feelings. Even when they're not there anymore. You never forget them. So do something with them.

[celestialprincesse]

Hello! Can you write Lieutenant Ghost x Colonel or Captain reader, please! And take your time with it! Thank you 💗💗

I really did take my time with getting around to this whoopsie🥴 Anyways !

John Price retired four months ago, and to the surprise of everyone in TF141, had been replaced externally, instead of by one of them. Ghost, in particular, had not been thrilled with that information. Until he met you.

You'd been one of Laswell's most trusted associates, worked alongside her for years in all different military and CIA branches. Truly the cream of the crop. Despite all your acclaim, the 141 had always been a tight knit family, held together by Captain John Price. What if you couldn't fill his shoes? Keep them running like a well oiled machine?

He'd be the first to admit that despite he and Price's similarity in age, his Captain had been the closest thing to a paternal figure he'd ever had, in his own weird, fucked up and emotionally distant way.

Admittedly, you're beautiful, funny and completely magnetic - but you're not Price. Something about how - how seemingly flawless you are seems to only make you less approachable to Simon, like he'll say one wrong thing to you and not be enough.

You feel the exact same way about him.

Realistically, you know he's your lieutenant, he was Price's too. He should've been the next choice for captain. All of them could've been better for the position than you. Gaz had shadowed Price for as long as he was in the 141. Johnny was the youngest ever to pass the SAS recruitment test. Ghost was noted as exceptionally physically proficient on his file, and had been in the military since he was legally able. Not to mention, Laswell had raved about him to you. You can see why now.

When he lurches at your back, seeing you safely to your office like some loyal guard dog, you can't help but to feel so immensely comforted, like he's a storm, in which you've somehow found yourself in the eye, protected fro, the world outside. And Ghost, loyal as he is, will always protect his team.

The others had taken to you so well, instinctively protective towards the only woman on their team, although you've shown them time and time again that you can hold your own. Simon, however, is on a different level entirely. It's stayed the same since day one. Something in him calls to something in you, and vice versa, and where you go, he goes.

At first, you had thought maybe he was trying to suck up to you, earn your favour, but when he'd started getting in your space, memorising your coffee order and helping you with everything you could imagine, you'd quickly realised that your lieutenant, the big, brave Simon 'ghost' Riley, has a big fat crush on you.

The feeling is mutual.

Obviously, you've got to be careful with the way you go about showing it, especially in a professional environment where fraternisation is frowned upon. It's clear to the both of you though, the pining isn't one sided.

Maybe when you're fully comfortable in your position as captain, well settled into the team, and sure that no one will think that to only way you achieved your position was by blowing someone higher up, maybe then you'll act on your feelings. God forbid you want to. One thing you've fortunately learned in your months working with Ghost, however, is that he's a patient man. He's willing to wait, to let you get comfortable.

Good thing you're patient too.

But until then, you'll settle for the stolen glances with soft eyes, or the way he's always checking on you when you're in the field together. You'll savour the gentle hands patching you up, or the moments between sparring sessions when you sit there sweaty beside one another, just breathing, touching, being.

Pining!! Mutually!! fuck yeah!! They can't have each other!! (yet)😛

still in love though

just subtly

[darylsdelts]

Hi😊 I was wondering if you could write the A - Z NSFW head canons for Daryl when you feel like it? I really love how you write him!

Tysm for this anon! This is fun!

Please keep in mind that sometimes I’m in the mood for subby Daryl and sometimes the opposite so my own opinions constantly change so, aside from this… yes Daryl is also daddy.

Aftercare - in the beginning, Daryl definitely doesn’t know what to do with himself after being intimate with you. The first few times, he pulls away after without saying anything and would either head out or just make some space between you. After he realises you actually want him there and understands what he should do then he definitely holds you close to his chest, a kiss on the top of your head, tells you he enjoyed it and he loves you.

Body - favourite body part… Daryl’s a boob man. He don’t give a shit, big or small but he loves em. (Norman is the biggest fucking boob man so so is Daryl, ok?) he also loves your eyes because he finds comfort in them, being able to hold eye contact is a big thing for Daryl. That being said, he basically get separation anxiety if he hasn’t been able to play with your pussy for a while😭 (not really but you’re his first time for everything so he just can’t get enough)

Cum - hear me out, Daryl used to get scared to cum. Like it took a while for him to get used to it. He’d enjoy show good it all felt but as soon as he would get too close he’d ask you to stop, he didn’t know why but he’d get all panicky. Until one day you very gently told him you were gonna make him cum and you guided him through it. It’s not like he hadn’t jerked off before, he didn’t even understand the anxiety himself. But the first time you did make him cum, there was quite a lot and he got real shy but he enjoyed it and since then he’s a fiend for when you just use your hand. He’s not really into cumming on your face but he likes the tummy. Even though he knows he can’t, sometimes he’ll still beg to cum inside you.

Dirty secret - he secretly likes the thought of you forcing him to watch yourself get off on your own fingers, tormenting him and not letting him touch you or himself. You’d have him practically rutting into thin air as he watched your fingers work hard, wishing it was his cock.

Experience - Daryl had no experience before you, he was a virgin. He didn’t outright say that but you caught on and you eventually asked him about it, which to your surprise he didn’t get defensive about, he was more ashamed than anything. But good Lord, he used his fingers liked he’d been in training his whole life, sure he was inexperienced but it didn’t show. The only telltale sign was his premature ejaculation the first time you two messed about and also how he humps his hips against the mattress when he eats you out.

Freaky - He’s not freaky lmfao. He’s pretty vanilla, with a submissive streak. The most dominant he gets is calling you a good girl and making you suck his fingers. Other than that he’s gentle and tends to slip into a sort of submissive role.

Goofy - Daryl’s too focused to be goofy. Nothing to laugh about if his girl ain’t cumming yet. But he’s not boring, obviously, just usually too caught up in pleasure. Unlessssss… you’re overstimulating him, something he loves, then he might get a little giggly accidentally but only because he doesn’t know what to do with himself when you’re attacking his sensitive head.

Hair - Daryl’s hair is sparse on his chest and torso but his happy trail gets a little darker, not black though, I would say probably a medium brown colour, let’s remember he’s a blonde baby at heart. He’s got a little bit of bush going on but he trims it now and then. As for you, he couldn’t care less, he’s still gonna eat his meal 😋! If you do get the chance to shave, he’d most likely be surprised. “What’s this? Ya been shavin’? Hope ya ain’t done it fer me”. He wouldn’t want you to think you have to shave for him to find you attractive, to be honest it kinda throws him off when you’re hairless.

Intimacy - he’s a needy fucker for a cuddle. He don’t look like it but he might as well be the damn cuddle monster when it comes to you. In private of course. In public he’d just squeeze your hand and maybe kiss your forehead if no one’s looking but PDA makes him uncomfortable. That’s why he’s so touchy and clingy at home.

Jerking off - not much time for Daryl to touch himself, also, he’s with you so he might aswell just ask you to do it. However, if for any reason you’re apart, he might get a little pent up, start daydreaming about things you say to him and how you say it “such a good boy, Daryl” he’d practically fuck his hand, being so desperate for release that he’d cum way too fast. He also likes to cup his balls when he cums.

kinks - secret mommy kink secret mommy kink secret mommy kink. He didn’t know he had one but he did know that he tends to gravitate to nurturing women who make him feel comforted but he’s never found any sexual desire there until he met you. So attentive and so nurturing, you always knew what he needed… it just slipped out one time, you were straddling him whilst he was still clothed. You’d teased him all day and he was a mess, rutting against your core through his jeans, begging to be touched. He couldn’t help it when he had an accidental orgasm in his pants and moaned out “m-mommyyyy”. And boy did you hold him to that.

Location - Home. Daryl don’t take no risks! Except for when he lets you tease him under the table at meetings.

Motivation (turn ons) - you, especially if you’ve been fighting, he loves watching his girl fight. Your kindness turns him on as-well, unless someone takes advantage of it, then he’s out to kill.

No (turn offs) - roughness, he’s not into being rough with you or you being tough with him. His life’s been rough enough.

Oral - he gets whimpery when you suck his dick, he bucks his hips and whines and he fucking loves it. Almost as much as he loves to eat you out. He’d lay on his stomach, eating you out whilst simultaneously rubbing his cock against the mattress, leaving a puddle of precum.

Pace - usually a slow to medium pace, he likes making love to you but if he’s stressed or had a rough day, he’s gonna go fast. That’s the only time he’ll be overly dominant. Basically just using your body.

Quickie - as much as he thinks about it, Daryl’s not pushing you up against a tree mid-hunt. It’s dangerous and not exactly comfortable for you. The closest thing he’s gotten to a quickie is one time you teased his cock through his jeans during a group dinner and he was so close to cumming he basically dragged you to the bathroom and had you suck him off.

Stamina - less than he had in the beginning 😭 he’s 55 now, he’s still got impeccable stamina and could go for round two but not as quickly as he could at 40.

Toys - one day, you came home from a scavenge with a vibe, he was a little annoyed, saying you could’ve got more important things but you assured him that this was all you found. He assumed it was for your use only but… you held it to his frenulum and suddenly he was glad it was all you could find. You told him that if you found a dildo you could use that on him too but he couldn’t tell if you were joking or not, maybe he’d let you use your fingers before any of that… maybe.

Unfair - after all of this submissive Daryl talk, he does like seeing you flustered, he likes to tease just as much as you do, he makes it like a little competition.

Volume - he’s quiet, small grunts and whimpers unless the vibe is involved then you gotta stuff your panties in his mouth.

Wild card (random hc) - likes when you worship his body, makes him less insecure (which he very much is but shouldn’t be)

X-ray - 7 inches and thick! Tip is a pinky red and he’s uncut. His balls are heavy asf but pretty tight. 4 inches when soft and when he’s hard it stands to attention with no curve.

Yearning - tried to play it cool… still tries to play it cool but is obsessed with you.

Zzz - as soon as you’re snuggled up, he’s gone. Fucking finally, he never slept well before you.

God this took fucking ages.

[inupibaldspot]

Curse Me If You Must

Character: Geto Suguru x Reader

Note: Angst! With also major spoilers. I was about to write a Yuta fluff but then I just saw a Geto edit and led me to write this.

You nervously stared at Gojo who was standing confidently with a smile on your face while you held a combination of stationaries; Pens,erasers,a book and a compass while Shoko stared with an amused yet curious look.

“Ready?” You asked but then you didn’t wait for a confirmation from Gojo as you threw them at him; a real battle field would be so much less merciful and you guys learned it the hard way after the star plasma, Amanai Riko was killed. That definitely left a hole in everyone’s heart, everyone who had a heart to care at least.

You let out a sigh of relief as the eraser was the only one who was able to reach Gojo and the other which was much sharper was held at a distance. Shoko let out a impressed whistle. “Me next but then I won’t be telling you when I’m gonna throw ‘em at you.”

“Go for it!” Gojo smirks.

You took a step back and another one before you finally completely turn away and walk towards a figure who was sitting in a bench a distance away. A person who , in the past at least ,always had a ego centric sharp look yet would speak with a teasing tone, a person who you would do everything for. “Suguru, you good?”

Geto finally looks up as if he had been called from a trance. He gives you a small smile as he raises his hand and reaches out for your as he ever so gently he takes your hand and gives your hand a kiss. “Just…” His voice was low as if all the energy was drawn from him. “Thinking…”

You hum. “Gojo seems as if he has mastered his technique. Quite impressive.” You wait for a reply but then it never comes as you peer over to Geto. The last mission seemed as if it took a huge chunk of damage to especially Geto; ever since the failed mission he seemed so distant, his head seemed to be jumbled with thoughts he’d never share to any of them…even you.

“Say Suguru… What does a curse taste like?”

Geto’s posture straightens as he looks at you, his tired eyes widened before a smile from you manages to let the tension leave his shoulders. “It’s fucking disgusting…” he lets out a laugh. “As if a rag had been used to clean up vomit; I have to eat it over and over and over again…”

You look away.

Geto wonders if what he said made you disgusted with him but in truth you were guilty . You said you loved Geto but it took an embarrassing long time to notice how whenever Geto were to swallow a curse call he would hesitate and when he did swallow would have his eyes shut.

When you did notice it , you were scared to ask him as if you were scared that you’d be stepping far too deep into his comfort zone. “Did you swallow one in the morning mission you had to go on?”

“I did…”

You look at Shoko was now fed up on trying to throw things at Gojo and now blatantly trying to break his limitless barrier with the compass; the duo completely distracted. You turn swiftly as you place your hands on either side of Geto as it rests on the bench as you let your lips rest on his. As you back away, he lets in a sharp inhale. “Would this help?”

Geto felt his eye burn as his heart seems to surrender its self; he tastes bit of the lip balm you used on his lips. “It does…” It doesn’t, the disgusting taste was so far deep down that the taste and stench seemed to have made itself home. “Thank you, my love.”

“I’m worried,Suguru…” You intertwine your pinky with his which was resting on the bench. “You’re simply just too kind so I’m worried your filled with guilt and regret. The incident wasn’t your fault, remember that.”

It was though. He thinks. Riko was with him yet she was killed in-front of his eyes not even a step away from him.

“You don’t have to give anything back, Suguru.” Your voice seemed weak and unsure, you were treating him like a ticking time bomb. “Use me, Suguru. If you think I can do anything for you, use me; suck me dry for every part of me is yours…it doesn’t matter if I get hurt in the process or if what you want is something simple as a kiss after you eat a curse.”

Geto almost trembles as he looks at you but you were still looking away,no… you were looking up at the sky but the way your eyes were glistening with tears was obvious. “Let me love you if you must…curse me if you must but please… don’t leave me alone…”

Don’t leave me alone you said. Geto thinks but then now here he stand unmoving; a strong stench of the morgue overcomes his senses but he pays no heed. A mission you had been sent to was a mistake, a curse which should have been to taken down a measly second grade curses escalated into a special grade unregistered curse.

His eyes remains focused on you who now rest unmoving on the morgue, your eyes closed mouth slightly open with the rest of your body covered in a white fabric. Behind him he feels the stare of Gojo and Shoko waiting for a reaction but he gives none. Geto Suguru was simply too tired. I should have also told you weren’t allowed to leave me. A binding vow should have been made. Another drop of regret falls into a bucket which was already too full which makes a ripple.

It was then and there Geto makes a choice; a choice which stirs the jujutsu world for years to come.

[mars101]

❝ Don't they know? It's the end of the world. ❞

! ! Years after you both broke up, the two of you make up under unfortunate circumstances.

-> paring: ex!san x reader

-> genre: angst (hopefully.. idk i suck at writing it)

-> word count: 474

-> song inspo: "The End of the World" - Carpenters

═════════════════════════════════

The sound of the television became background noise as the subject on the bright screen caused your brain to shut down. Even the sound of your phone ringing couldn't snap you out of the trance the shocking matter gave you. It was like time had stopped. To you, the world went silent.

Urgent knocks and rings of the doorbell were finally able to snap you out as calls of your name echoed behind the door. As you reluctantly open the door, your emotionless face turns into slight confusion as someone you never expect to appear is standing right outside your door.

“San..?”

Your voice croaks out the man's name as he engulfs you in an embrace. It's a feeling that you haven't felt in forever. Two years had already passed since the two of you had broken up. So why is he here when the end of the world is coming in an hour.?

“You've heard the news right..?” San's eyes look over your face. Fear, sadness, longing, and affection flood the pools of life within the orbs. He takes a quick glance behind you and notices the tv on and sighs.

Your hands softly push away his arms that are around you. “San, what are you doing here..? You should be going home, spending your last moments with family, not-”

“There's no one else that I would rather spend my last moments of life with.” Shaky hands rest on your cheeks, thumbs wiping away tears that you didn't even know had fallen. “Day after day I was working up the courage to show you that I've changed, I'm no longer scared, no longer immature.”

Tears start to fall down from his own eyes as San puts a wavering smile on his face, “Who knew that it would've taken the end of the world for me to come back here?”

Your hands have a mind of their own as the sleeves of your shirt are used to wipe away his tears. “There's so much I wanted to tell you after we broke up, San.. There's so many words that I still have to say to you..”

“I feel that way too.. Well, we have a lifetime to tell each other everything.”

“Our lifetime ends in less than an hour.”

“So? That only means that we should start talking. I'll go first,” His soft lips press against your forehead, the feeling brings a warmth to your face that hasn't been felt in years. “I've never stopped loving you, and in my last moments.. just being with you will help calm every single one of the nerves I have in my body.”

“I'd told you that I would love you until the end of time. Why did it come so soon..?”

mars talks: AHHHHHHHHHHHH 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬 AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬 okay no one talk to me

masterlist

☆★☆ perm taglist: @boomhoon @sanasour @loonaluvz

[monimccoythings]

Mama Wolf

Woah, I've been wanting to write f!Logan since I first saw a drawing about her. She is so butch and gruff and dreamy... And I love the fics where Logan is a dad.

tags: f!Logan and m!reader, pregnancy, Logan has animal traits, a bit of nsfw, chaotic pregnancy because Logan has a very nasty temper. Logan can be a bitch to anyone but you.

It wasn't really a surprise when you two saw the two lines on the pregnancy test. Given how horny and hormonal she had been lately.

Logan had many animalistic traits, her senses were as sharp as the deadliest predator, which was great for tracking missions. But that biological advantage also involved having to deal with less practical animal traits like heats that stroke twice a year.

Oh, you were always so eager for those times of the year, she was unsatiable. You barely could keep up, almost coupling to the point of exhaustion, but you would gladly die just to be buried between her legs one more time.

At first, she didn't know how to react. Her? a mother? Fucking Godzilla had more maternal instincts than her. But you knew better.

Despite her gruffiness and callous exterior, despite how annoyed she seemed to get with the younger mutants, deep down inside her was buried the urge and need to protect them at any costs. There was zero doubt in your mind that Logan would make an excellent mother to your child.

The first months were hard, morning sickness didn't go easy on her, and given her extra sensitive nose, any smell could really send her crawling towards the toilet with you tailing close to gently rub her back.

If anybody at the mansion thought that regular Logan was short tempered and harsh, they just hadn't met a hormonal pregnant Logan. Her already volatile temper grew in unison with her belly. Everything seemed to set her off, claws out and fangs ready to tear anyone and anything apart; some lights were too bright, some whispers where too loud, her highly developed senses were constantly going overdrive and it was driving her insane.

Despite the hormonal changes, Logan did not cry, ever. She would rather vent her pent up frustrations as she had always done: through alcohol. When Hank told her she wouldn't be able to smoke or drink for the entirety of the pregnancy, she threw an epic fit that left the medbay unusable for weeks. Only your reassuring presence and gentle kisses were enough to soothe her down.

When she started showing, Logan also felt the need to start nesting. Soon your shared bed had become a bundle of clothes, cushions, sheets and towels. She reluctantly told you that she felt calmer if she was constantly surrounded by scents that reminded her of you.

The first time she felt her baby kick Logan was stomping through the mansion, in one of her moods. It was so sudden that for a couple of seconds she didn't know what to do, her anger long forgotten. With trembling hands she slowly caressed her belly, afraid that if she made any sudden movement, the magic of the moment would be lost. That was when reality hit her like a ton of bricks. She was going to be a mom, she was going to build a family with you, her partner. That was really happening. Logan was at loss for words, but surprisingly, she didn't feel anxious, in fact, she felt extremely happy.

Logan found herself becoming more protective of her cub as the months passed, always with a hand on her swollen belly and the other arm extended, just in case she needed to use her claws. The animal in her only recognizing you as a non-threat towards the baby.

Don't think that just because she is with child she will want to stop training in the danger room or working out at the gym. She wants to keep herself in shape in case someone attacks the mansion. It takes a lot of convincing on your part (and Hank's, Charles', Jean's, Scott's....) to make her take it easier.

During the third trimester of the pregnancy Logan was more than done with feeling so swollen and out of control of her own body. Everything ached, everything sucked and she was hornier than ever. And believe me, if she gets horny, nothing will stop her from feeling satisfied. She will shove you against the bed, with impressive strength for a pregnant woman; well, this is Logan we are talking about, and have her way with you. Not that you're complaining obviously, your main concern is that she doesn't overdo it and accidentally harms the child.

It was a hard pregnancy for everyone involved, but specially Logan. It pained you to see her so uncomfortable, knowing there was little you could do to help her feel better. Yet you did everything you could to take that weight of her shoulders.

Everynight, when you two laid together in the safety of your improvised nest, with a hand on her swollen belly and her nose nuzzling your neck, you knew that you would die a thousand deaths and endure the cruelest of tortures just to hold the woman you loved in your arms and feel your baby moving inside her.

[luveline]

Hello! I’m usually a silent reader but OMG the zombie au 😭😭 this series hits me right in the heart, but honestly everything you post is amazing!! You’re such a talented writer that your words create feelings, not just images, and they’re the most comforting, relatable, and heart wrenching all at once. No pressure, but I would love to see more of r’s recovery from her cuts! Maybe something happens when the survivors are moving that causes Steve to be extra worried? Thanks SO much either way!!

thank you so much 😭 I hope this is okay!! sry it took me ages. steve zombie au —steve looks after you again !!

You haven't been able to tell Steve why you're covered practically head to toe in little cuts beyond what you remember. Days now since the attack on The College, you vaguely remember an impact, which might explain your poor memory. Someone or something had hit you down, and when you woke it was in a pool of crushed glass, darkness like velvet enveloping the sky. 

"I don't know how you did it," he says, sitting between your legs, unperturbed by your state of undress. 

You're wearing a pair of mens boxers as shorts to grant him access to your sliced thighs without feeling naked. The worst stretches across your left thigh, stitched closed and weeping miserably. It's a horror —the cut isn't bad but the infection is, and if it doesn't get better, there's going to be a problem. 

"Desperate to get back to you," you say. You're not lying, but you say it like a joke. 

Steve laughs and rubs your one unscathed knee gently. 

"My poor love," he says under his breath, focusing on your stitches. He cleans around them with a damp strip of cloth poorly shorn. 

He moves up with a new strip to clean the top ones. You could do it yourself, but his fussing is nice. Relaxed against a pile of bed rolls, your arms crossed to avoid touching your stomach, which is also blanketed in cuts, you wince as Steve grows closer. 

"Can we take a break?" you ask. 

"Yeah." He puts down the bowl of linen strips and screws the lid back on the isopropyl. "Sorry, honey. I know it sucks. You've dealt with it all so well–" 

"Steve, you say this to me with a sprained knee." 

"It's not less true," he says, easing down with a boyish groan beside you. 

He turns to you as you turn to him, actual dirt on his cheek, stubbly and waxy in the dusk. You rub at the spot of dirt unhappily. He lets you touch him without complaint. 

"Sorry I'm a mess." 

"As long as you come back to me," he says. "I don't really care how much of a mess you are." 

"Don't, baby." You rub your face into his shoulder, feeling the muscle of his bicep under your palm. You don't want him to be nice to you like that, not while your skin is stinging like this and you're still feeling hopelessly terrified of the uncertain future again. 

"I gotta. I'm playing the romantic, doting love interest in our book." 

"What book?" 

"One I'm gonna write. Me and you and Robin at the end of the world," Steve says, dropping his head on yours. 

"Who's gonna read the book?" you ask quietly. 

"Everyone. When the world gets back on its feet again and the next generation wants to know what it was like, they'll have a great answer. Boy falls in love with girl destined to be constantly injured and reluctantly taken care of." 

"Ah, but I'm not reluctant," you say. 

"I can do your other leg?" 

"No," you whine. 

"That's reluctance." 

You sit together for a while. 

"You have to let me finish," he says firmly.

"I know… just. I love you," you say quietly. It's hard to explain it, but sitting with him as you are in the corner of a crowded room, it doesn't matter where you are, because you're with him. All these cuts and bruises don't mean a thing. 

"I love you, too." He wraps his arm around your shoulders. You wish you could see his face, but this is nice. 

"Do you ever worry we say it too much?" 

"No." He turns his face into the top of your head. "This is the right amount. But you can definitely tell me again, if you're worried." 

You thumb along a scabbed cut. "I love you. Thanks for taking care of me." 

"You're welcome. And you can make it up to me. I want a neck massage, you know, where you dig into my literal bones and–" he imitates a cracking sound. 

"I don't know why you like it so much." 

"Cos it's you doing it. Deal?" 

You sigh. Somehow, you feel as though you might have taken the short end of the stick. "Deal." 

[thatssonanii]

Chapter Sixteen

A/N: I've written and started this chapter over so many times because it just wasn't flowing right but I finally got. They never have a happy chapter so this is it, minus one part lol. Reblog, Share, Comment and Like! That's the only way my writing gets seen by more and more is if you guys reblog and everything. Help me get my art out! FYI I CHANGED JAYDEN TO BRAYDEN!!

Warning: Cursing, Mentions of Death, implied smut EXCUSE ANY TYPOS, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

DO NOT POST MY WORK ANYWHERE ELSE AND/OR CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN!

Masterlist

Chapter Fifteen

As soon as the guys got Toni’s call, they rushed out of the performance center after clearing it with Shawn. Bronco followed Zilla to the apartment, both parking crooked in front of the complex. Toni met them at the door, a sad look on her face. They huddled in the living room, speaking quietly.

“What’s wrong? You said it was a emergency?” Zilla asked itching to get to his girlfriend.

“The little girl, Nia, she came back in. She was rushed into surgery but she didn’t make it. She cried all the way here,” Toni informed them, grabbing her bag, “She fell asleep not too long ago. I doubt she’ll get any sleep tonight.” The men cursed under their breath. “Yeah so I’ll stop by when I get off work to check on her. If you can, do not leave her by herself.”

He nodded, giving her a quick hug. “I got you. Thank you fa bringin’ her home.”

She waved him off, throwing out a goodbye to him. Bronco and him had a quick, short conversation before he followed his girlfriend out the door. 

Zilla made sure the door was locked and leaned his back against it, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself. Although he was thankful that she wasn’t hurt physically and nobody in her family was hurt, he hated that this is what was happening. The way she would talk about the little girl, how attached she had gotten since the little girl’s first visit and now she had passed away. Zilla knew and understood how big his girlfriend’s heart is so he knew how much this was affecting her.

Seeing her curled up in a ball on their bed broke his heart. He eased onto the bed carefully, trying not to wake her up and pulled her onto his chest. Moriah started to stir against him and lifted her head. Watery eyes met his.

“Zay,” she sobbed.

“I know, beautiful. I know that shit hurtin’ you bad but I got you. I ain’t goin nowhere.” He assured wrapping her in his arms tighter. “Get it out, baby.”

She cried for a few minutes before pulling herself together enough to talk to him. “She was doing so good and then I guess her body couldn’t take it. All he needed was three more minutes. Just three.” Zilla hummed softly, letting her know that he was listening. “It just happened so … freaking fast, Zay. One minute she was okay, the next she was … she was,” Moriah paused unable to bring herself to say the word. 

He kissed her head and her face as she cried softly. “I got you.”

“And when we went to tell her parents, the scream her mama let out … I’ve never heard anything like it, Zay.” She admitted softly. “Her scream is still echoing in my head, I’ll never be able to get that out of my head. And I tried to console her but she just pushed me away. She looked at me like I did it.”

He sighed. “She know you didn’t do it but she was in shock, Fat. Don’t let that bother you, aight? That’s that grief.”

“I just … Nia is … was so full of life. She was energetic, she was happy and now she’s gone.” Moriah spoke sadly. “That was my first and it was a little girl.”

He rocked her gently trying to soothe her. “It sucks, bae and I don’t know what I can do to fix that and make it hurt less. But I got something you can think about that might make you feel better when you get sad.”

“What?”

“Nia not here no more but she up there in them clouds with Pops and Angel. And you know they takin good care fo her.” He smiled seeing her smile a bit. “Angel know all spots for the lil ones and he gon take her to em.”

After another couple hours, Moriah went back to sleep. Zilla waited until he was sure she was in a deep sleep before getting up. Going out to their living room, Zilla flopped on the sofa with his phone to his ear.

“What’s up, nephew?”

“What’s good, Auntie Kami?” He greeted her in a soft tone. “You busy?”

“Nope, I’m on break. What’s up? Why are we whispering?” She asked, laughing.

He chuckled, leaning back against the sofa. “Rye in there sleep, ion wanna wake her up. I need a favor if you don’t mind.”

Kamille took a moment to turn her music down before responding. “You know I don’t mind doing anything for you two, Zay. What’s up?”

“I uh,” he paused to make sure he didn’t hear his girlfriend getting up. “Fat had a ill girl die on her today and she not handlin’ it well. Can you make sure you check on her when you can?”

“My baby,” she cooed. “Of course, Zay. I can take time off and come there if she needs me.”

“Not right now but I’ll let you know. I think ima drive her up to Georgia to see her dad. I think that might help. What you think, Auntie?”

Kamilled laughed a bit. “Of course that would help.”

Anybody who knew Moriah and Hassan knew that their bond was something special to the two of them. Moriah had been a daddy’s girl since the first time she laid eyes on him in the delivery room. Throughout her life whenever she was going through something, needed advice or just wanted to chill Hassan was always there. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her and there was never anything any more important than his babygirl. 

“Can I ask you something?” Zilla asked quietly.

“Shoot.”

“How is Nadine? I know Fat cut her off but it’s been too quiet. She never really listens to Fat anyway so it’s a little weird to not have her pop up in some way.” He explained further.

The older woman sighed on the other end of the phone. “Nadine is still Nadine. The reason you haven’t heard anything from her is because Hassan is takin the heat off of you two.”

“What that mean?” He asked quickly.

“When you go see him, you ask him. I know he’ll tell you.” She responded quickly. “I gotta go back to work but you know you can call or text me if you need me.”

“Aight, Auntie. Zilla love you.”

“Auntie loves you too.” She laughed.

Getting off the phone with Kamille, Zilla went back to lay with his girlfriend. When he pulled her closer to him this time she didn’t stir or wake up, she just took her place on his chest. As she slept, he made plans in his head for their drive and what he would need to do.  

That night as promised Toni and Bronco came back to the apartment to check on Moriah and brought Javi along. The five of them had dinner together, giving Moriah the support she needed without mentioning the elephant in the room. Afterwards, the boys went out to get dessert for them, leaving the ladies alone for a little while. They were sitting on the floor in front of the sofa drinking wine. 

“Bronco told me that girl sent Zilla videos and tried to act like it was an accident.” Toni rolled her eyes taking a sip. 

Moriah groaned, pulling her glass away from her lips. “Girl, Ima get pissed just thinking about it again cause what the hell was she thinking. She so lucky I like my job and my family out here cause if I didn’t I would’ve beat her ass already.”

“She need her ass beat, if you ask me. What did Zilla say to you about it?”

She rolled her eyes with a grimace. “He said that he would handle it, that a queen shouldn’t come off her throne to address anybody buuut I really don’t care about that. I wanna beat her ass. She keep inching further and further over the line like I won’t kick her frog eyed ass back over it.”

Glancing at the door, Toni slid a little closer to her and spoke softly as if somebody else could hear her. 

“So you know how Dr. Miller had to go out of town for that funeral last week?” She paused, waiting for Moriah to nod. “I was scrolling on instagram and saw he had posted some family pictures and in the midst of looking through them, guess who I saw.”

“Frogger?” She answered immediately.

Toni laughed loudly, covering it with her hand. “Yes, Frogger. I did a little snooping and found out that Frogger is his little cousin. They don’t seem to be that close cause the other pictures he has of her are clearly at family functions.”

 Moriah hummed, internalizing the information. “Oh really? You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Pump Dr. Miller for info next time we’re at work?”

“That part,” Moriah grinned. “So tomorrow we get em.”

Toni’s smile slightly faltered. “Don’t you think you should take tomorrow and try again on Thursday?”

“I promise I’m fine,” Moriah protested sitting her glass on the coffee table, “I don’t need to take any days off, T. I’ll be there tomorrow morning bright and early.”

Eyeing her friend, Toni rolled around the words she wanted to say to convince her to take the day. When she got back to the hospital, she went ahead and put Moriah off Wednesday and debated if she should do Thursday as well to give her a longer weekend to recuperate. Ultimately, she decided against it going with the one day.

“Just take the day, Rye. Please.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t need it.”

“About six months into my first year running Lakeland ED, I had a really good group of nurses working under me. But I had one favorite, Alicia.”

Moriah frowned. “You had a favorite before me? I don’t like it but continue.”

Both laugh,Toni pushed her shoulder playfully.

“Anyway, Alicia was pretty much my little second in command at the time like you are now. That girl was something,” she laughed. “Dr. Harris used to try to take her from me all the time. I think about her every day, I miss her smartass.”

“I never saw her on pediatrics with him so I’m assuming she’s at another hospital,” Moriah speculated.

Toni took a sip of her wine before answering. “Nope. One night there was a six car accident on the highway, there were some pretty bad injuries and some minor ones. She handled one of the minor ones with me and a doctor, it wasn’t major but it wasn’t minor. We thought the patient would be okay, they were talking and just needed a minor surgery to set a few things. Next thing we knew the patient had a heart attack.”

Moriah gasped. “Oh no. That’s awful.”

“Definitely. It happened so quick, we couldn’t get em back. The doctor told her to go home, that was her first but she fought him. I told her to go home, me and her fought for about two hours before I just let her have it but kept watch.”

“Soooo?” She asked.

Toni pinched her arm. “Impatient. A couple weeks passed and she was okay but I could tell something was bothering her so I pulled her to talk, she assured me that she was seeing a therapist so I let it go.” She paused to clear her throat and fight back tears. “She missed two shifts without calling in so I went to check on her since I had her spare key. I found her, I thought she was sleeping but she was so cold. There was a letter, she couldn’t get that night out of her head and she wished she’d taken time to deal with it.”

Moriah poked out her lip as tears fell. “I’m sorry, T. That’s … I’m sorry.”

The friends sat in an embrace, crying on each other's shoulders expelling their grief onto one another. Time would heal their wounds but in this moment Toni knew what an extra day would do for Moriah. It would be a lie for Moriah to say that she wasn’t still reliving the day’s events in her head over and over especially when it got too quiet but she didn’t want to be weak. She wanted to be strong like everybody thought she was. 

Pulling away from the hug, Toni used her thumbs to wipe her friend’s tears away. “Rye, please take another day.”

“Okay, okay,” she conceded softly. “I’ll stay out tomorrow.”

“Good because I was gonna have to undo your PTO and that’s too much work.” Toni joked, making them laugh.

Being in Atlanta put a big smile on Moriah’s face the closer they got to Hassan’s house. Zilla let her sleep after her Friday shift to nap before their 3 am drive. He chose that so she would sleep most, if not all of the drive because he wanted to surprise her. She slept until the last thirty minutes, when she got her bearings Zilla saw that sparkle in her eyes again. He laughed seeing her bounce giddily in the passenger seat.

“You ain’t ever been this excited to see me, Fat.” He joked. “What I gotta do to get you that excited for me?”

She laughed, moving her attention from out the window to him. “Be my Daddy.”

“Shid, I’m already that, ain’t it?”

“Shut up,” she laughed harder, “Be Hassan DeBreaux and you knew that.”

He shrugged playfully. “Either way. You like your surprise?”

“I do. Thank you. How’d you know I been missing my Daddy?”

He snorted. “You always miss him, it ain’t a secret. You my Fat but you a Daddy’s girl before that. And I got you always but I figured having both of us would help you more.”

Moriah poked his cheek playfully. “My Zilla being sweet. I love you.”

“Only fa you, Fat. Zilla luh you too.”

When they got to the house, Moriah jumped out of the car and ran to the porch ringing the doorbell repeatedly. Zilla hung back a bit, getting their bags and her purse out of the backseat. As soos as Hassan opened the door, Moriah jumped into his arms excitedly squealing.

“Babygirl,” Hassan laughed as he held onto her, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Neither did I. Zay surprised me. I missed you!” She squeezed him tight one more time before he put her down. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss my babygirl and my son in law.”

“I said me, not hard head, Daddy.”

Zilla stepped on the porch, knocking into her playfully with his duffle bag. “I shoulda let you carry ya own stuff.”

“He’s my Daddy not yours, hard head.”

Hassan chuckled, stepping in before they could argue. He took Moriah’s bag from him. “Alright, alright. You know my babygirl is an only child so sometimes she doesn’t like to share, Zilla.”

“Oh I know she don’t know how to share. She don’t share food, drinks or me.” He laughed, stepping into the house behind her. “So I know she ain’t gon share you.”

Hassan and Zilla sat their bags near the stairs then went to the living room to sit, Moriah pushing her boyfriend out of the way when he tried to sit beside Hassan. Laughing, he went to sit in the love seat.

“Be nice, Rye, Zilla, you can come sit on the other side of me if you want.” 

“Nah, I’m good. She gon beat me up later if I do,” he joked. “You need to talk to her about keepin her hands to herself and about bein mean to me.”

Moriah stared at him. “I’m no mean to you. Take it back.”

“See,” Zilla laughed. “Look at how she lookin at me. When you not lookin, she gon hit me, mane.”

“I’ll just hit you now then.” She sassed, reaching over.

He swatted her hands away laughing. “You can’t reach me anyway with them short ass arms. Stay over there, stubby.”

“Daddy! He called me stubby, get him.” She complained pointing at her boyfriend.

Hassan laughed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He sat back, responding to a few messages. “Is this what the two of you put Lee through? I’m not playing referee, I will call Lee on you.”

“Dang you gon do us like that?” Zilla asked.

“Right. Just gon get us in trouble like that.” Moriah pouted. “That’s not nice.”

Looking up from his phone, Hassan looked between them chuckling to himself. “This is why I’m not playin referee with you. I say one thing you yall turn on me. Did yall surprise me to argue or did you just come to see me?”

Zilla glanced at his girlfriend then got up from his seat. “Ima take our stuff upstairs and check on Mama. Let yall talk.” He kissed her head before leaving the room, not giving her a chance to pull him back.  

Sitting his phone aside, Hassan gave his daughter his undivided attention, noticing the tears in her eyes. His mind immediately went to the worst but he silently talked himself down. The tick tacking of Moriah’s nails hitting one another filled the momentary silence until Hassan reached out to take one of her hands.

“Hey, whatever is going on you know you can talk to me about it, kid.” He softly reassured her.

“You remember that surgery I helped out with?”

“The little girl, of course I remember. What about it?”

She took a deep breath to try to calm herself down. “She came back in a few days ago with complications. Did another surgery to fix it but,” she paused to wipe her face and take more breaths. “She didn’t make it, Daddy.”

With no hesitation, Hassan pulled his daughter closer and into his arms. He rocked her, letting her cry on his chest. The thought obviously crossed his mind that this would happen eventually and he wished there was some way he could prevent it from happening but he couldn’t. But he  would always be there to catch her. 

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back soothingly. “Daddy is sorry that you have to deal with this. You know you did everything that you could to help her and the rest of it was in the Lord’s hands. He needed another angel. Just know she isn’t in any pain anymore.”

She nodded, finding solace in his arms. “She was so little. I just hate that we couldn’t save her.”

“The Lord saved her. He got her, kid. And think about this,” he paused to lean her back so she was looking at him. “She’s up there keeping Angel company. I’m sure he’s a little ladies man.”

Moriah laughed, wiping her face. “He better not be. He better be a good little angel.”

“Mmm, I know my grandson handsome like me so I dunno.” He joked. 

She blew playfully sitting up a bit more. “Daddy, you just like Zay. He said the same thing. How’s my stepmom?”

“Stepmom?” He chuckled. “Tamara is alright. She asks about you all the time.”

“Give her my number, I don’t mind. Am I gonna get to see her while I’m here?”

He nodded, taking his phone back out. “I’ll send it to her. Yeah, I’m actually supposed to meet her kids tomorrow. You know she met your grandparents and auntie and everybody.”

“Yeah, you know Grandma called and told me about it. Sooo,” she drug out smiling. “Can me and Zay go too?”

“You don’t have to ask, you’re welcome anywhere I am.” He sat back against the sofa, stroking his beard. “Have you spoken to your mama?”

“Nope,” she answered quickly. “And I’m okay with that.”

“If it’s making you happier and causing less problems between you and Zay then I support it. I know dealin with her ain’t easy.”

“It’s not and with all the problems she’s already caused, I don’t need anymore, Daddy. I don’t want anymore.”

That evening after dinner, Hassan stepped out for a little while to visit Tamara leaving Moriah and Zilla alone. The couple made a pallet on the floor in the den, eating their dessert and watching a movie. 

“You got the same ice cream that I got. Stay out my bowl, girl.” 

Moriah reached her spoon back in his bowl. “But yours tastes better.”

“How?”

She shrugged, eating the ice cream she took from him. “Cause it’s yours. I like anything you have.”

He leaned over to kiss her, when he pulled away he noticed her spoon in his bowl. “Fat,” he laughed, “Mane, just take it. Here.”

Giggling, she took his bowl and gave him hers. He looked at her bowl then back up at her and shook his head. “You lucky I love yo ass,”

“Very lucky.” She winked. “Sometimes I think about what life would be like if you didn’t go to prison.” He nodded for her to go on. “And sometimes I think that we would have Angel and be happy still but sometimes … I think about it and I don’t know if we would be this happy.”

“I’m right there witchu. Sometimes I wanna think that we’d be happy, me, you and Angel and maybe another one but then … then I don’t think so. I’m like aight it’s two this would go.”

“Which are what?”

“One way is that I kept at that bad shit and you wouldn’t stick around. I know you woulda got tired of the constant trouble especially knowin we was havin a son. You wouldn’t want him to have me in and out his life with that trouble. It would drive us apart.” He shrugged quickly eating another spoon of ice cream. “The other way is that you would stay even though you know you should leave and you would accept all the shit I did and give up on what you wanted in life because you gotta raise Angel and step up while I was in and out. Angel would see that and think it was okay and wanna be just like me. And even though we’d still be together, you wouldn’t be you anymore. Either option, I lose you, you lose me and we lose each other.”

Serious conversations for Moriah and Zilla didn’t happen as often as other couples but when they did, each of them spoke openly and honestly. Moriah liked that he had grown to a point where he could put his thoughts into words without being flustered or embarrassed. Coming from where they came from as children, both of them had made much progress in sharing their feelings and thoughts.

“I … yeah, you’re right. It sounds kinda fucked up but you getting locked and us losing Angel was probably the best thing for us.” She admitted softly, sitting her bowl aside. 

He thought it over for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, Fat, I think so too. I know I wouldn’t have changed if I was in and out, all that time gave me time to get myself together. I hate that I had to learn that away from everybody I loved but it needed to happen. You also needed me away so you could go to school and all that. You wouldn’t have went off to school if I was out.”

She chuckled a bit. “I would’ve made you come with me. Daddy would’ve gotten me an apartment or something so you could stay.”

He laughed loudly at that. “Ya spoiled ass. But that’s exactly why I ain’t need to be around. If I woulda went witchu your ass wouldnt’a graduated, Fat. I woulda known that from jump but I still woulda went if you asked me too.” He admitted lookin gin her eyes. “When you wanted to run away when we was like 12, I was packed and ready.”

“I remember that. But why would you do all that? Especially knowing it wouldn’t be a good ending.” She asked, tucking her legs under her.

He ate his last bit of ice cream so he could sit the bowl aside and give the rest of the small part of his attention that she didn’t have to her. “Fat, Ion think you understand how much I loved you back then or how much I love you now,” he admitted caressing her cheek. “I’a do anything you asked me to do if it made you happy or made you feel better. Nobody else, just you.”

Biting her lip, she tilted her head eyeing him with love in her eyes. Obviously she knows that Zilla loves her and she knows how much he loves her but hearing it from him warmed her heart. It gave her butterflies every single time.

“Kinda dangerous. No?” She asked teasingly to which he shrugged. “And what would Dr. Barnes say about that?”

“Don’t know but I’a ask em for you next session.” He laughed, leaning to kiss her cheek, “You talked to your mom?”

Moriah stared at him, “Hell no. You know I have clear boundaries and I’m no contact with her.”

“Just askin, Fat. You miss her?”

“I mean yeah, she’s my mom. It feels like I’m grieving for her but she’s still alive.” She huffed. “Are you mad at me for missing her?”

He shook his head. “Nah, Zilla wouldn’t be mad about that. The only thing that would make me mad is if you let her back in our lives without talking to me. I don’t want her back but everybody deserves a chance if they do the work.”

Moriah smiled wide at him, “Ooooh that therapy is working, Isayah! Listen to you. I’m so proud of you.”

He laughed, pushing her hands away from his face. “Chill. Dr. Barnes gon be happy to hear that though.”

“We gotta get him a gift or something,” she suggested excitedly.

Zilla stared at his girlfriend, happy to see her back to herself. Even if it’s for just this moment. No matter what happened, Moriah always had a giving heart. Zilla both loved and hated it because he didn’t want anyone to try to take advantage of her heart. But if it happened, he would take care of it.

“So uh at my last session, Dr. Barne gave me a list of like 4 fertility specialists we can pick from to go see. Or we can see em all. I mean if you want to, it’s all up to you.” He watched her shoulders slump slightly at the mention and a slight frown take over her smile. “Fat, we don’t gotta talk about it. My bad for bringin it up.” 

She shook her head quickly. “No, no, I’m okay. It just caught me off guard. We can do that, Zay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I’m just a little scared that they can’t help us and if they can’t help us, I don’t wanna disappoint you and your family.”

It was his turn to frown. “Baby, hell nah. You ain’t gon disappoint me or our family. Don’t think none of that negative shit. Whatever happens we gon keep tryin till you wanna stop. Aight?” He waited for her to nod before he cracked a smile. “Somethin else I gotta tell you that me and Dr. Barnes talked about.”

“You know you can tell me whatever, babe.”

“I know it’s just … ion want you to take the shit the wrong way, aight? It ain’t nothing you did.” At his words, she frowned but told him to go on. “You know how you mentioned before that since we got rid of the condoms that we don’t have sex as much as we used to?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“I know I told you its cause I’m tired with everything starting to pick up for me but that ain’t it. And it ain’t that ion want to cause I do,” he admitted looking into her eyes, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

He huffed, trying to get his words together without upsetting her. “Whenever we’re goin to or I think about it my shit just don’t work. It won’t get up.”

“So you’re turned off by me now?” She asked scooting away from him, slapping his hand away from her when he tried to pull her back. “Don’t touch me, Zay and answer me.”

“I ain’t turned off by you, Fat. I still think you beautiful, pretty, fine as fuck all that but when I think about not needing a condom and what your mama did, I get mad and it ruins everything. It’s not you, it’s what she did, Fat.”

On the verge of tears, Moriah thought back to all the moments where they were going to have sex or she planned on them having sex and he was either tired, always sleeping or came home after she was already sleeping. But then she thought of those moments where they would randomly have sex and that gave her pause.

“So what about in your backseat, on the sofa those few times and all the others?”

“I can explain that, Fat. You was catching me off guard getting mad as shit about stuff and my brian overlooked the other shit,” he spit out quickly. “Ima tell you like I told Dr. Barnes, that shit sound toxic as hell but you bein mad did some shit to me. Ion know. It was enough for my mind to blank that other shit out.”

She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “So me being mad turned you on but just me being me doesn’t?”

“Nah, nah, nah. That ain’t what I said. I’m tellin you that them times I wasn’t expectin you to get that mad so I didn’t have time to think about shit else but fuckin you. Them other times I knew what to expect so it gave my mind time to think about way too much. It ain’t you, Fat. I swear it ain’t. If it was you, I wouldn’t get up at all no matter what.”

“So you tellin me if I grabbed your dick right now, it won’t get hard?” She asked, squinting at him.

Feeling the anger radiated off of her, Zilla knew what would happen as soon as she touched him. Knowing that she was upset, what Nadine had done was far from his mind at the moment. If he was being honest with himself, she probably ain’t have to touch him for the shit to happen.

“If you grabbed my dick right now, it would get hard cause you pissed and I can see that shit. My brain short circuited like a muhfucker, Fat, knowing you pissed.” He admitted shamelessly. Seeing her eyes move from his face to his lap, told him she noticed it. “See? I told you, bae. I’m attracted you, the blood just don’t leave my head fast enough when you ain’t pissed.”

Blowing loudly, Moriah moved her stare to the ceiling for a moment then back to him. “Are you serious right now? I’ve been pissed all those other times and I’m pissed right now and all you can think about is fucking me? Seriously?”

He stared at her trying to concentrate. He heard every word she said but he couldn’t formulate a response. Feeling her push his shoulder, he shook his head trying once again to focus.

“Yeah, bae?”

“I’m talking to you! Stop thinkin about whatever you’re thinkin about and focus. Cause there is no way I’m fuckin you right now.” She fussed poking him in his chest. “You got some nerve!”

“Baby, shit,” he complained softly as he pulled her into his lap grinding himself into her, “I promise I hear you but I got just enough blood in this head up here to convince you to change your mind.” Staring at her for a moment, Zilla licked his lips noticing the flare in her nostrils and the fire in her eyes. He kissed her lips a few times then moved to her neck, still grinding against her.

“Zay … Zay,” she mumbled out, trying to push at his shoulders, “I’m still pissed at you and I wanna talk about this. I wanna talk about this right now.”

He bit down on her neck then pulled away to look at her. “And you know how to multi-task, Fat. So ride this dick and tell Zilla all your thoughts. Aight, beautiful?”

She moaned softly. “But I dunno when my daddy is gonna be back. I don’t want him to catch us.”

He kissed her lips again before standing with her in his arms. “Ain’t no problem, Fat. Zilla got you.”

A few hours later, Zilla had the overwhelming urge to pee so he carefully slid Moriah off his chest and onto his pillow then out of the bed. After taking care of his business, he pulled on his briefs and shirts to go downstairs for something to drink. Getting downstairs he found Hassan sitting at the island on his laptop with his back to him, bobbing his head to the music coming out of it.

“Rye was right, you do slide your feet when you walk.” Hassan spoke without turning around, making Zilla laugh a bit.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugged, grabbing a water from the fridge. “What you doin up this late?”

Hassan looked at the time on his screen. “It’s only 1am. I’m usually up this late when I’m workin on something. Surprised she let you get up, sleeping next to her is like sleeping with velcro.”

He took a long swig then laughed. “I learned how to maneuver her so now she don’t notice when I get up.”

“Smart man,” Hassan smiled and offered Zilla a seat next to him. “You and her didn’t fight anymore after I left, did you?”

“Nah, no fightin. We just talked. Why you ask?”

“I kept getting notifications about movement from my camera in the den. Since it wasn't a fight,” He slid his phone over, “Go to the blink app and delete whatever videos. I don’t wanna know. My phone password is Rye birthday.”

Zilla laughed doing what he was asked. “It wasn’t nothin bad, not all of it. We really was just talkin, you prolly don’t wanna hear the last part though.”

Hassan glanced at him with a smile on his face. “Didn’t I say I don’t wanna know? Just delete, son.”

“My bad, my bad.” He laughed as he deleted videos. “This is goin way better with you than it did that night Nadine was in the kitchen when I went downstairs.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?” He asked going back to his work on his computer.

Zilla finished deleting the last few videos before answering. “She was cryin, said she had just had a argument with you. She asked if me and Fat argued and if I put my hands on her, tryna like say that you did that to her. I know she was lyin.”

“She was but go on.”

“And then she offered to pay me to break up with Fat. Told me to name my price.”

“I wanna say that I’m surprised but I ain’t. I can assure you that this is not gonna go anything like that.”

“Shit, I know,” he admitted bringing his bottle back to his lips, “I was talkin to Auntie Kami the other day and asked her about Nadine, ya know about her being quiet and shit. She said you had takin the heat off us and to ask you what that meant.”

Hassan asked him to give him a few minutes to finish what he was working on. The younger man sat quietly watching the older man finish whatever design on his computer while he waited. When it was done Hassan saved his project then turned his attention to his guest.

“A little bit after the whole fall out I sent Gabi to see Nadine to check her temperature a little. And let me tell you, son, that shit was high as hell on yall so she did what I asked her to do.” He explained. “She informed Nadine about my relationship with Tam so the temp she had with you two turned to me and Tam. Nadine was hot, you hear me?”

“Damn. That’s all it took?”

“Nah, there was more. She called me like I knew she would to confirm what Gabi said and I did, that set her off even more. And after that it ended up working out that Tamara wanted to meet Didi.” He paused to make sure Zilla was following him. “We went to meet her. She wasn’t happy but it ended with her thinking she has the upper hand and that’s what I want her to think. As long as she’s focused on me and what I’m doing, you and Rye don’t have anything to worry about.”

Zilla whistled lowly. “Damn. That … you sure you gon be able to handle the shit she do?”

Hassan waved him off. “I’ve known Didi for well over 20 years, I know all of her moves before she make them. She think in charge of all of this but I’m just stringing her along.”

“I appreciate you doin that for us. I’m also sorry that you have to deal with her. I know that ain’t easy.”

“Difference between me and Rye is I ain’t Didi kid. I don’t feel obligated to do anything for her or listen to her.” He shrugged. “I talk to her enough to keep her attention over here and that’s it.”

The men moved their talk to the living room. They went back and forth trading work stories for another half an hour. 

“When you found out Fat was pregnant were you mad?”

“A little but me and Lee already saw it coming. We noticed the time you and Rye spent together and how it went from being friends to something else.” Hassan replied. “You think we didn’t know about the locked doors and what you two were doing on the sofa?”

Zilla rubbed down his face, laughing. “In our defense, we wasn’t doin nothin most of that time. My mama said the same thing though.I’m sorry about all that though.”

“Sorry about what?”

“Getting Fat pregnant that young. We shouldn’t have been doin none’a that.”

Hassan shrugged. “You don’t need to apologize about that, Zilla. Yall were young but you were still human. Like I said, we knew it was coming and mistakes happen.”

“It’s so crazy to me how you so cool about shit and so easy to talk to yet Nadine in … that.”

He shrugged. “She wasn’t always the way she is now. Or I suppose it was always in her but she made an effort to put her best foot forward all those years.Back to happier things, what’s next for you and Rye?”

“I been lookin for a realtor. Wanna find some houses to look at. Nothin big but like a townhouse, we outgrew that apartment already, mane.”

“Tam is a realtor, if she can’t help you then I’m sure she can find you someone who can.”

“Yeah definitely, I suck at tryna find one. Fat think you gon get married again.” He shared softly. “She mention it a lot.”

“My sister thinks so too. It’s still a little early to go ring shopping but I know I’d like to have her around for a long while.”

“I hear that. I get it.”

“But not too early for you to go ring shopping,” Hassan smiled.

Zilla laughed. “Every time we talk you bring that up. You dyin for us to get married?”

“Just wondering why you putin off the inevitable is all. Everybody know it’s comin. You scared?”

“I mean nah … I wouldn’t call it scared.”

“Nervous then?”

Zilla nodded, rubbing his hand over the top of his head. “Yeah that sound about right.”

“Nervous that gettin married is gonna change things or nervous that you’re gonna mess it up?”

“Both but more of the second one.” He admitted.

“Marriage is gonna change things but for the better, no need to be nervous about that. It is a big commitment but the two of you can handle it. Look at how well you’re doin now?” Hassan gave him an encouraging pat on the back. “And you not gon mess it up. Neither of you is perfect but as long as you try and your honest, you have nothing to worry about. You’re a good guy, don’t let anybody tell you any different. You hear me?” Zilla nodded letting the words digest. “Good. Go on and get you some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Aight, Po…Hassan. Good night.”

Hassan ignored the slip, letting him continue on. He knew they would talk about it soon enough. Hassan got up to shut everything down before following Zilla upstairs to turn in for the night as well. 

Finally time for the meet up, Hassan drove them to Tamara’s house. He noticed the two extra cars in her driveway, taking note that her kids were already there. He shot her a quick text after parking. 

“No need to be anything other than yourselves, kids. She knows all about you two and I’m sure she’s told her kids about you. They’re around your ages so yall should get along.” He told them making sure he had all of his things before he got out. “But … no fighting. Keep your hands to yourself if they’re not nice touches and no arguing. Got it, kiddos?”

“That’s him always starting with me, Daddy. Tell him.” Moriah pouted in the backseat.

Zilla sucked his teeth. “Sound like you the one startin. All you had to do was say aight like I was bout to.”

Hassan held his hand up silencing them. “Cut it or I will personally fly Lee out here to get yall together. We clear?”

“Crystal,” the couple mumbled.

Moriah and Zilla followed Hassan to the porch, quietly pushing each other and arguing thinking he couldn’t hear them but he just ignored them laughing to himself. While he waited for Tamara to answer the door, he turned around to give the two of them one last look. When she opened the door, she had a big smile on her face and pulled Hassan into a tight hug, kissing his cheek until they heard kissing sounds coming from behind Hassan. They pulled away laughing.

“You remember my daughter, Moriah and this is my son in law, Isayah but we all call him Zilla. Zilla, this is my lady, Tamara.”

Moriah pushed Zilla out of the way to hug her. “Me first. Hey, Tamara. You look pretty and this house is nice.”

Tamara laughed and thanked her. “You look pretty too. Nice to meet you, Zilla. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Zilla thumped Moriah’s ear to get her out of the way and hugged Tamara. “Nice to meet you too, ma’am. Ignore fat head over there.”

Hassan stopped Moriah before she could hit him and made them follow Tamara inside the house. She led them to her den where her kids were doing some bickering of their own. Discreetly she tried to stop them until she realized they weren’t listening so she popped both of them making them hiss.

“Ow, aye, what you hit me for? She started it, Ma.”

Tamara stared at her son. “Don’t care, I finished it. Our guests are here.”

“So act right, ugly.” 

Tamara snapped her fingers stopping them once more. “Hassan, these are my kids Brayden and Sade. Sade and Brayden, this is my boyfriend, Hassan. And that’s his daughter, Moriah and his son in law, Zilla.”

The kids waved at each other.

Hassan smiled. “Nice to meet you two. Your mom talks about you all the time.”

“This ya man, Mama? I like em cause yo been nicer since you been datin him. What’s up, man?” Brayden shrugged his mom’s glare off. Ain’t she been nicer, Sade?”

Sade had zoned out for a moment staring at Moriah and Moriah stared back. “What? Oh yeah, she has.”

“Anyway, San, come help me get the snacks form the kitchen and leave these four to talk junk about us.” Tamara suggested.

He nodded. “Lead the way. Yall have a seat and get comfortable.”

After sitting down, Zilla noticed Moriah and Sade kept staring at each other and he made eye contact with Brayden who also noticed. Both tried unsuccessfully to get their attention, left feeling confused. 

“You look real familiar,” Moriah admitted. 

Sade nodded. “Yeah, you do too. I swear I know you from somewhere. Uuuh you went to school in Dekalb county?”

Moriah shook her head. “Nope. You ever lived in Houston?”

“Nah, never lived there.”

“You were on a dance team when you were younger? One that traveled.”

“Nope. Never had the time.”

Not being able to figure out where they knew each other from was frustrating each o fhte young women and confusing the men. 

Brayden cut in after thinking for a second. “You was in Houston for a minute until they caught ya lil ass. You probably don’t remember cause Mama whooped ya ass when you got back here.”

Sade jumped at him. “Shut up. I do remember that but I don’t think that’s it.”

“You look like this girl I met, Dreka, I met when I went to juvie in Houston.”

Zilla sucked his teeth. “You sayin that like you did hard time in there. You was in there one day and Hassan picked you up the next morning.” 

“Either way I went. Shut up.”

“Wait .. wait,” Sade called out snapping her fingers, “You are who I thought you were, girl! I used to go by middle name back then, it’s Shaundreka. You was the girl I had helped that night!”

“Yes, that was you that helped me! Oh my God! I was waiting on you to call me when you got out,” Moriah laughed. “Zay made fun of me cause I was sad.”

“Oh she ain’t call cause my mama ain’t let her ass do shit when she got back to Georgia. She was lucky my mama let her take her ass to school.” Brayden laughed. “Thought she was bad till my mama put that belt to her ass.”

Sade scrunched her face at him and rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up before I tell her that it was you that smashed her window and not that neighbor boy.”

“Awwe ya lil juvie friend back, Fat. That’s cute.” Zilla taunted laughing.

“Forget them. Let’s go in the other room and talk away from them. They just jealous.” Sade suggested getting up from the sofa. “And don’t try to follow us either, uglies.”

Brayden laughed out loud. “What yall gon be some runaways again? This time don’t tell nobody where you goin so Mama don’t catch you again!”

“Is that the one you got put in juvie for?” Sade asked as they were leaving the room.

“Mmhm, that’s him. Mistakes were made,”’ she said loud enough for him to hear.

“Love you too, Fat!” He yelled out still laughing.

In the kitchen, Hassan and Tamara were laughing softly with one another happy that all four were getting along. They weren’t exactly worried about it but they knew there was a slim chance that they could bump heads.

[herecirmsims]

Questions For Storytellers

I have (I think) finally caught up on my list of poses to make, so I wanted to do something a little fun (for me, not for anyone else LMAO) and entirely self-indulgent. I read stories and tell my own over on Instagram, but of course it's harder to post long-form text like this over there.

Special thanks to @freezerbnuuy as I'm copying their post. ❤️

What’s the last screenshot you’ve taken for your story?

This is from the middle of my last post, but it's the last screenshot I took because I went back and added this scene in after finally caving and making my own stupid poses for it hahah.

2. Describe your story in three words or less: Needlessly long tbh

3. Describe (insert character here) in three words or less: Uhhh I'll pick Saxen since he's my MC... wet cat energy (which I think is something @nefaricussims said actually??). Or "90s cocaine chic" as @southernsimmin so beautifully described him. 🤣

4. How did you choose the name of your story? It's called The Cottage because it's... based in and around a cottage. 🥲 I have a very imaginative mind!! 🤣 But also, the cottage plays an important role throughout the whole story and especially in the upcoming finale.

5. How do you choose your characters’ names? My Sim story is based on a novel I never had the confidence to finish - in that version, Sax is an ælf based on Anglo-Saxon belief. I made him a vampire in Sims because that was the only pack I owned at the time, besides base game, and for gameplay purposes I thought vamp put him close to how I imagined him. I now realise I could have easily used CC and my own damn imagination to make him an ælf but I didn't know much about CC at the time, either. 🤣 Because of this, the original story leant into fae lore and the stuff about never revealing your true name. Saxen isn't his real name anyway, but for an added layer it also isn't spelt how you might imagine if you heard it spoken. The same for Thom and Jac who are also characters who came over from the 'original'.

6. How long have you been working on your story for? A little over three years! I have learned soooo much in that time.

7. Whats the biggest risk you’ve taken with your story? Did it pay off? I dunno that I've taken any risks, other than putting it out there in the first place.

8. What about your story are you proud of? I think the fact it exists at all. I've been writing stories since I was a kid, but at some point I lost confidence in myself and have never finished anything/wanted to share it with people because I end up overthinking and deleting it. So I am proud of myself for having maintained a continuous story for three years, and for having other people read it. I think because there was no pressure with a Sims story - with a novel I kept thinking, this has to be perfect and polished so that I can publish it someday. With a Sims story, I'm free to just write the silly tropes I enjoy and allow myself to suck and learn and get better at it.

9. What about your story are you looking to improve on? I read a fantastic article about ma - including pauses in your visual storytelling, space for the characters to sit and breath and reflect. It's ma that makes Ghibli movies so wonderfully distinctive. Being able to make my own poses means that I can show a character's expression or body language in response to a situation, without the need for overlaying text. I'm trying really hard to move away from the "talking heads" style that reads more like a script, and letting the visuals tell the story for me instead. I'm not very good at it because I enjoy my blah blah, but it's fun to try!!

10. Is your story fully planned or are you still working things out? Is there a definitive end? I'm approaching the end of it now, which has been planned for the last three years, so yes - I know pretty much everything that's going to happen. Sometimes the characters still throw a little surprise for me though.

11. Why have you decided to tell this story? Are there any messages or meanings within it? When I got the Sims almost 4 years ago, I had absolutely no idea that there was a) a whole community around it or b) that people used it for storytelling. I'd already made Sax, Thom, and Jac in the game, because I'd wanted to see them come to life during gameplay. Then I discovered poses and started sharing random staged screenshots on Instagram, and became friends with the exceptionally talented TheSimmerKay (now making machinimas!) who showed interest in my silly little characters and suggested that I try telling a story too. I owe her a lot!! As for messages and meaning... I'm very interested in what makes people do the things they do, and how the hero of a story often depends on whose POV we're hearing the story from. There's a fine line between hero and villain sometimes, and a hero acting out of love can cross from protectiveness into control.

12. Do you actually play the game or do you just use it as a storytelling medium? Yep - I have a designated story save, which is the one I take all my screenshots in and which never has gameplay. Then I have a Happy Ever After save for Sax and Fen and another save for for my Globetrotter Challenge Sim, both of which are gameplay only. I think it's important to have that outlet; I can work on my story, make poses, or just play the game, depending on what I fancy.

13. From basic planning to a finished post, how long does that take you? 2-3 evenings. I tend to get everything laid out and text added, then let it sit for a day because I inevitably think of a way to do something better if I give it chance to breath. 🤣

14. Do you have any regrets about your story so far? If you could go back in time, how would you fix these? Not regrets, really, but there are some threads that I put in - fully intending to complete them later in the story - but never did, due to them just not fitting with the story or wanting to try and bring things to an end sooner. But similarly, there are times when I was going to put in a little hint or foreshadowing in and didn't, and then later in my story have wished I had! The tricky part of serialised storytelling is you have to just live with what you have (or don't have), you can't go back and remove or add scenes like you would with a drafted novel.

15. What have been the highlights of creating your story? I've met so many incredible people due to it, oh my goodness. Truly extraordinary Simmers who've shared their time and knowledge with me. We have a little mutual reading group on Insta where we all read and geek out over each other's stories and it's just wonderful. I was honestly shocked when i went to other platforms and realised how much drama there can be in the Sims community. 🤣

16. What about the process do you enjoy? Not that I don't enjoy the process... but I mostly love it when it's finished and I can share it, hahaha.

17. What about the process do you hate? I don't hate any of it... it's a hobby and I do it because I enjoy it. That being said, it does fuck me off when I have multiple Sims in a scene, everyone is in place and has poses queued, and then MCCC Dresser FREEZES MY GAME NOOOOOOOO WHY

18. Choose a song that reminds you of your story:

This is the unofficial theme... specifically this version in Old English, which is Saxen's first language. "It's our destiny then to find love again / Where we failed once before now we'll win"

19. Choose a song that reminds you of (insert character here):

Another one for Sax I guess because he's special. 😌🤣 "But you, a cinder of the fire that's yet to come / Will you just sit and mourn this fragile thing that you've become / Or instead will you consume the very things you can't outrun / Until you finally see all of the strength that you draw from?"

20. Choose your favourite shot from your story so far: Hmmm I think this one, which was me being lazy and reusing a screenshot from an older scene during a flashback-style narration. 🤣 I was trying to achieve something else with the editing but did this by accident and liked it.

21. Choose your least favourite shot so far: Too many to pick from LMAO

22. Choose a favourite character from your story so far: Sax, obviously, he's my lil chew toy/punching bag. But then there's also Idris, for whom I only wish the best. She's going through some trouble right now and I don't enjoy it. It's much more fun to bully Sax.

23. Choose your least favourite character so far: I don't have one! Although Vlad makes me deeply uncomfortable tbh. I find him to be a really creepy villain, and unlike any of my other villains, he's not in any way misrepresented or redeemable. I'm using a makeover version of him by WistfulCastle (I would link, but I don't think he's available anymore?)!

24. Are there any characters who remind you of yourself? No... well. Whenever baby El randomly info-dumps on a niche subject, that's mostly me taking advantage of a captive audience to tell them about karkadanns or medieval torture items or dead bodies on Everest. 🥲

25. What inspirations have you drawn on for your story? I honestly don't know - I can't name anything that I've consciously drawn on, though I know for sure I must have. Funnily enough people have told me things like "oh that's like in Vampire Diaries" or "that's like that part in the Harry Potter films" and I haven't watched either of those, so I think what's happening is we're all drawing from the same well of folklore and mythology and trope. There is occasional story drama about being copied and the thing is... unpopular opinion alert... many of us aren't as unique as we think we are. 😅 What we are unique at is taking a trope and telling it in our own distinctive way. No one else can tell your story quite like you can.

26. Have other sim stories inspired you? I have soooo many talented friends who inspire me to do better when it comes to visuals and storytelling!! @callmedomino is the queen of silent storytelling and a huge inspiration on my journey to discover ma. I really love how well she can tell a story with no words.

27. What genres would you describe your story as? I call it rural fantasy lmao

28. If you could reproduce your story in another medium (movie, novel, comic, etc.) what would you choose and why? I mean obviously I'd say movie because HOW COOL would that be?! Especially an animated one!

29. What would your story’s rating be? (G, PG, M etc.) Ummm probably M because there is the occasional spicy scene. Sometimes three a year LMAO.

30. If you were leaving simblr Simsta and had to choose another creator to continue the story for you, who would you ask? Well tbh I've given Sax and Fen to several good friends already; some of them have them in ongoing cameos in their own stories. I wouldn't ask anyone to continue mine, but I like to think that Sax and Fen could live on in my friend's stories and games if anything were to ever happen to me.

31. Drop some random trivia about your story: When I started I only meant to do short, random vignettes about daily life at the cottage. Somehow it snowballed into a three year epic. 🤣

32. Give a light spoiler: "This is who I am. If I was any other way, I would not be myself."