#god I can feel the angst oozing from this

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ NEED TO LISTEN TO ME — price is disappointed in you and your other three lovers, and finds that some 'training' is in order

read on ao3.

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, poly tf141, ANGRY sex, mean dom price, angst, degradation, minor dom/sub, light humiliation, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, minor spit play, minor blood play (not really), rough sex, price orders EVERYONE around, price-centred, whiny johnny and gaz agenda

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

You weren't scared of many things at this point in your life.

Being a signal officer for the military certainly aided that statement, but it was more the fact that you had four guard dogs in the form of the most seasoned special forces operatives you've ever known. Four very large, very scary men that you'd somehow found yourself lucky enough to get to call your partners.

Both on, and off, the field.

That being said, there was one thing you were terrified of. Like, to your bones, petrified.

And that thing had a name.

John Price.

He was formally the captain of your force for a reason, but he was also informally the captain of your relationship, as well. The one you all looked to in the most difficult of moments, the one that held reason and guidance above all.

It's been that way since the five of you met, and remains the same to this day.

Nonetheless.

It was a known fact between you, Soap, Ghost and Gaz that none of you liked seeing the man mad. You four could count on one hand the amount of times you'd witnessed it, all of which having been directed at either his superiors or an enemy.

But. Right now, in this office, seated on the small couch between your three lovers?

Yeah. You don't fear many things.

But John Price's disappointment is quite easily in your top three, and this situation only cements it.

"He's probably ordering our caskets," Gaz murmurs wistfully, eyes wide as he stares at his foot, tap-tap-tapping against the wooden floor. It's a nervous tic that gives him away too easily, but even with your hand on his knee, it doesn't seem able to quit.

You exhale a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. "I hope he gets me a cute one," you mumble back, tone matching the resignation that clouds your captain's office.

"You four. My office."

Those were the only words Price had spoken to you guys, before marching off to a meeting with Laswell.

To say that you and your lovers were mortified was the biggest understatement of the century.

Even Ghost, sat perfectly still, expression perfectly neutral beneath his mask, oozes trepidation like it's the carbon dioxide he exudes with every breath.

"I know 'm 'n tha military, but I still don't wanna die, ya know?" Soap whines, his head flung back and blue eyes glued to the roof as his hands shake in his lap.

You guys must look like unruly students sat outside of your principal's office to any onlookers, and it should be embarrassing.

It would be, if you could feel anything but mortal peril.

You're about to quip a reply to Soap, when the door clicks open, and the three of you sit ramrod straight, Ghost not moving from his already perfect posture.

Price steps in, the door shutting closed behind him.

The silence is a tangible force, and your mouth is so dry, you'd think you were in a desert, not in your lover's office.

His footfalls echo around the modest space, before he leans against his wooden desk, folding his arms over his chest, before directing his furious gaze to you four.

"When I give orders," he starts, and oh god, his tone, it's so unbelievably firm, "I expect my team to follow them."

There's no response, except for the overwhelming quiet coming from the usually passionate and comforting presence that underlies your entire dynamic.

Price clears his throat, meeting all of your eyes one by one. You wonder if you can see the glassiness of yours, the barely restrained tears.

"So why," he begins, before swallowing once more, determination settling in, "Did all four of my teammates rush into an unstable building after being ordered to keep out?"

You know it's not just the anger of a captain's orders being refused.

It's the anger of a lover having to watch all four of his partner's risk their death, while he can do nothing but watch from the scope of a sniper rifle.

The clock on the wall above the door ticks, and none of you make a sound.

Price grabs a pack of cigars from his pocket, quickly sliding one out, placing it between his lips, and shoving the pack back into his slacks. He then pulls out a lighter from his back pocket, lighting the tobacco, before exhaling his first breath of smoke.

In any other situation, you or Gaz would be chastising him, telling him to stop smoking, or to at least do it outside.

Neither of you say a word.

Rubbing at the furrow between his brows, Price then drifts his eyes to Ghost, the only one who hasn't said a word since the mission.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Price says on a deep exhale, shaking his head. There's hurt there, genuine pain, and your heart stutters in your chest at the sight. "You're my lieutenant, Simon. I thought you'd at least 'ave the brains to listen to me when I make an order."

Ghost's hand tightens where it sit on his cargos, and even with his mask on, you can tell that a disgruntled frown lays beneath it.

"And you, Soap," he looks at the man to your right, now, and you can physically see him deflate at the disappointment in his captain's eyes. "Disrespecting authority is cute 'nd all, until it's me, mate."

Those words feel like a physical wound, even to you, and judging my Soap's crestfallen expression, for him, it must hurt tenfold.

And, then, it's your turn.

His mouth is set in a grim line, and you hope that he can see the regret, the genuine sorrow you feel at disappointing and -- and scaring your captain. Your lover.

"What were you thinking?" He asks, and your mouth wants to open, but it's as if there's an invisible force pinning it shut. "You weren't even supposed to step foot on enemy grounds, and you knew that."

And it's true. Your role is mainly with communications and technical supplies, not actual combat. You were trained, yes, but it has never been your role.

But you'd seen Soap rush in, Ghost trailing after him, yelling, and then Gaz not long after, and it was like your mind shut out any rational lines of thinking. There was no rationale when it came to your partners.

That was a flaw. A genuine character fault, and Price was cementing that fact in this very room.

"Kyle," Price runs his hand down his face, cigar in between his middle and index fingers, "Kyle."

The pain, regret, the melancholy -- it's its own element in this room, its own being, and it feels as if it's choking you from the inside out. Like a gas leak, or a grenade stuck in your throat, about to go off.

Ghost, shockingly, is the first to speak.

"Captain," he grits out. Not 'old man'. Not 'love'.

Captain.

"We're aware of our... misgivings," he states, the words coming off of his tongue like hot coals he needs to rid off, lest his entire mouth burns.

Price nods, slowly, eyes narrowing at Ghost. It hits you, then, how your lover's just dug all of your graves in one sentence. Gaz seems to realise, too, his eyes going wide, exhaling a low, short breath in surprise.

"Sweetheart," he quips, standing up in the transition of one moment to the next, eyes snapping to your glassy ones. The endearment holds no warmth to it, for the first time, and your heart shatters where it beats in your chest, shards of glass embedding into the muscle surround it. "Get on the desk."

He says the words, and in the next movement, sweeps his arm over his desk, causing all of his papers, his pens, his folders, to go careening to the floor.

Soap mutters a curse under his breath, and Gaz winces.

On shaky legs, you stand, walking the short distance to the wooden surface and sitting on it with short pants of breath.

His large hand grips your chin in a tight grasp, tilting your head back and forcing the eye contact between you both.

He leans in, mouth mere millimetres away from your own, before speaking. You can taste the tobacco as he does. "I'm gonna let every single one of my subordinates fuck your disobedient cunt, and it's not gonna get any cum. Do you understand that order, sweetheart?"

It's cruel. Patronising, and so unbearably condescending, but you nod, a tear finally leaking down your cheek.

With a calloused thumb, he wipes it away in one stroke. "Save that for the actual punishment, operator."

And then, he steps back, and takes a seat in his chair, allowing him a full view of the other three still sat at the couch, and your position in his desk.

"This is a lesson on following your captain's orders," Price barks his order, like most other men of his rank would. It's a stone cold contrast to the gentle, comforting way he usual spoke to the four of you. His voice, now, holds no love, no underlying adoration lacing through his words. "You will follow every command I give you, and hopefully, this training will carry onto our future missions."

You're all aware that if it gets too much, one of you will utter the safeword you're all aware of -- the weight of it almost embedded into your beings.

Price knows it, too. And no matter how angry he is, he'll always put you all first, listen to you when you genuinely need to stop.

The feeling in the room has shifted from one of heavy disappointment, to an electrifying anger that has liquid heat melting to your core.

"Simon," Price snaps his fingers, and it's almost as if you're in a parallel universe, because the large man immediately stands. "Lay 'er down on the desk."

Ghost only needs to take two steps from the couch before he's standing in front of you, hand fisting into your hair, before somewhat gently pushing you to lay flat against the smooth surface. Your breathing is harsh, your chest moving in quick rises.

"Strip 'er down," Price orders, voice gravelly as he takes another deep inhale of his cigar, folding his leg so his left ankle rests on his right knee, legs spread wide. He fills out the chair with his frame, and it makes you shiver as Ghost gets to work peeling your clothes off of you.

When your heated skin feels the kiss of the cool air, you let out a haggard breath, head falling back to hit the wood as you clench your eyes shut.

Ghost goes to spread your thighs, before pausing, awaiting Price's directions like a dutiful dog.

You never thought you'd see the day.

"She's wet enough," Price shrugs, taking another drag of his cigar. "Fuck 'er."

Oh, fuck.

He wasn't lying, you were soaking, something about the fear unknowingly having your inner thighs sticky and core aching to be filled.

But... not getting prepped? At all?

Ghost makes a surprised grunt of a noise, pausing for a moment, before recollecting his senses and unbuckling his pants.

Oh. Fuck.

He's really, properly following Price's directions, like the man had demanded. The guilt was eating all of you alive, and that festered in Simon's actions.

His deep brown eyes flick to yours, before he unzips his fly with one hand, gaze not moving from yours. There's slight apology in them, only a hint, before he leans down to spit on your cunt.

You inhale a sharp breath at the act, squeezing your eyes shut as his dick presses against your heat, rubbing against it slightly.

Then, he pushes in -- it makes you cry out, breath hitching as the tip enters. It's a tight fit, but he continues to push in, and it's almost as if you can feel the intrusion, the pressure in your chest.

"So you can follow orders, huh?" Price quips, almost nastily, and it has you shuddering as Ghost's hips finally flush against your own. You don't think you've ever taken any of them without foreplay, and it's a special form of torture. The pressure is almost too much, his cock filling you up so much.

Simon's head hangs between his shoulders, muscles tense as he stares down at you, the epitome of self-restraint.

He always was the most controlling one, the most calculating.

Not today, however.

That title easily belongs to Price, who merely relaxes further into his seat, as if he wasn't just mere feet away from the two of you.

"I said fuck her, Riley. Not stand there and keep it warm."

He's so fucking. He's fucking cruel about this, fully willing and wanting to make this hurt. It's so completely unlike the man you love, and it's psychologically damning in a way nothing else could be.

But, like directed, Simon fucks you.

He stops trying to be kind about it, stops wallowing in guilt. It's rough, forceful, urgent, unlike the way he usually liked to savour your pleasure, your pain. He usually delighted in the smooth, deep strokes, prolonging the passionate act almost vindictively.

No. Now, it's quick, punishing thrusts, and your head falls back and little moans escape your throat.

It's like you've both forgotten that Soap and Gaz sit on the couch, watching, waiting. Price has likely made it that way on purpose, to make them envy the attention you and Ghost are getting.

"Fuck," you moan, tits bouncing as Simon continues to fuck you relentlessly, harsh in his movements.

"Does he feel good?" Price is standing, and when you open glassy eyes, it's to see his face looking down at you. If you had the mind to, you'd flinch under his criticizing expression. "Answer me."

You nod, shakily, and when his brows narrow, you rush out a verbal response. "Yes, yes, he does!"

Price hums a noncommittal sound, before his hand slides down your stomach, leaving your hairs to stand on end, before his fingers reach your clit. In tight circles, he has you on the edge almost immediately, and you cry out.

"Gonna fuckin' cum," Ghost grunts, voice low as his eyes clench tight.

"Aww, you two close?" Your captain's voice is gruff, all too condescending, and just before you can find your release, his hand leaves your clit, and wraps around Ghost's neck. He leans into his ear, and his whisper is loud enough for everyone to hear. "Pull out."

Simon makes a noise suspiciously close to a whimper, and it's so unlike him that it has your eyes opening wide, before he does just as Price ordered.

He pulls out.

"Seriously?" You groan, filter eviscerated like your high was. You lean up, using your elbows for leverage.

Price raises one brow, before scratching at his beard almost absent-mindedly. "Got a complaint, sergeant?"

You shake your head, lightning quick, like a puppet on a string.

That's what you were right now -- what all of you were. Just puppets in whatever acts Price wanted to see you all star in.

It's exhilarating in the worst of ways.

"Soap, Gaz," Price snaps once more, and Ghost is nothing more than a neglected mutt. Which, really, is almost funny considering the amount of times the man teases you, Soap and Gaz about such a comment. You couldn't count the amount of times he's compare you three to 'needy puppies'.

Now, he was nothing more than that, and you wish you could enjoy that fact more.

The two men adhere to the command, radiating nervous energy as they stand to attention, not unlike they would if they were in a standard military unit.

"Gaz, take her mouth," Price demands, before his hand buries in the short hair near the nape of Soap's head with a mean grip, meant to hurt. Soap barely hides a whine as Price tugs him, forcing the man to his knees as if he's nothing more than the mutt Ghost usually refers to him as. "You, lick 'er clean."

You realise, then, what exactly this is.

It's truly a display of power. Of control. Because you four took that away from him on the field, unrightfully so. There truly is thought behind his anger, his pain.

It only makes the ache in your heart burn, makes it bruise and bleed where the shattered pieces cut and embed into the innerworkings of your body.

This 'training' won't make up for what you four pulled. Not in the slightest.

But it's something to let John get some of his emotions out, in a somewhat healthier way than you lot usually resorted to.

You'd always offer your support, offer yourself, and he knows that.

He's deliberately taking away that option for you, taking control to comfort the side of him that is so deeply ingrained, so deeply relied on for him to live.

You love him. So effortlessly.

Those words remain accurate, even as Johnny first licks over your wet pussy, and Kyle's dick bumps against your lips.

Opening your mouth without a thought, Kyle's tip slips in, his pre-cum salty on your tongue as you flatten your tongue against it. Johnny's as enthusiastic as ever, maybe even more than usual, as he delegates all of his attention to your aching warmth.

John's grip doesn't release from Johnny's hair, shoving his closer against you, and the sight is so hot that you wish you could fully, properly enjoy it.

Another time, when you're all in better spots, happy and unapologetic, you'll ask them to re-enact the scene.

Johnny moans against your pussy, hands coming up to grip at your bare thighs, and you just know there'll be finger-shaped bruises come tomorrow morning. He's always been unaware of his strength, not understanding the proper damage he can inflict, especially in the bedroom. It's attractive as all hell.

"Yeah? She taste good, hm?" John nearly snarls, and you let out a drawn out moan at the pleasure and words. The sound is muffled by Kyle pushing in deeper, having you almost gagging on his length.

Your eyes flutter shut at the onslaught of feelings, but even with no sight, you can feel Simon's eyes on you like a physical weight.

You know what position he's in, without having to look. Leaning against the wall with a furious expression, large arms folded over his bulky chest. Maybe he's pulled off his mask, maybe it's just been hooked over his crooked nose.

"Fuck, cap," Kyle groans, bucking into your throat. "So fuckin' good--"

Johnny muffles a whine as his efforts nearly double, and you swear spots colour the darkness of your vision. You're already there, and it's not like you can say anything, with Kyle abusing your mouth like this.

"She's close, ain't she, Johnny? Feel her clenchin' on your tongue?" John taunts, and you can feel Johnny nod against your core, nose brushing your clit as he does.

John huffs a cruel laugh, before he abruptly pulls Johnny away by the scruff of his neck. You can't help by buck up, searching for touch, but none comes.

"Kyle," John's tone is one requiring no resistance, and with a shaky exhale, Kyle pulls out of your mouth, a string of spit clinging to his dick, before snapping and leaving your cheek covered with a line of it.

You shakily open your eyes, your pussy begging for a release, knowing that you won't get one. Not yet.

"You make a mess, you clean it up," John says.

So, Kyle leans down, his tongue licking over the spit trail, and really it should be disgusting.

Instead, it only makes you wetter.

Your thighs incessantly shake, no hint of stopping as your body aches. The emotional turmoil, mixed with the physical kind -- it's a concoction for torture.

With half-lidded eyes, you watch as John forces Johnny's head in between your breasts, pressing his face into them. It must be almost suffocating, but Johnny manages to whine as you feel John's hand wrap around Johnny's dick, positioning it against your twitching hole.

"Rut into her," John orders, before stepping back.

Johnny does just that -- he thrusts in, bottoming out with one push. Your moan sounds too alike to a squeal at the stretch, the sudden intrusion. Your arms wrap around his back, nails scratching lines down Johnny's back as he thrusts into you almost manically. You're sure that you're drawing blood, but it only seems to encourage the man rutting into you further, his thrusts urgent and feral.

"Jesus christ," someone -- you're sure it's Kyle -- murmurs, and you suddenly want to know what you must look like from a spectator. Ruined, probably.

Your breaths are harried as you feel yourself getting close once more, tears burning at the corner of your vision at the pure need coursing through your veins.

"Please," you whimper, squeezing like a vice around Johnny's dick. "Please, oh god."

"Now you want me to make decisions? Let you two cum?" There's a hand in your hair, and in any other situation, it'd be calming.

Currently, it feels like a thinly veiled threat.

"Please, John, 'm so sorry, please," you beg, eyes blurry as you look up into the man's stormy blue eyes.

Usually, they're comparable to a calm ocean, the beach mid-summer.

Now, they're akin to the darkest of storms, the ones sailors whisper about, the ones that haunt them while they're asleep at sea. Ones that cause shipwrecks to wash up on shores, ones that cause stories to be passed between campers on the scariest of nights.

"Now you're sorry, sweetheart?" And, oh, there's a sliver of the warmth you've come to crave, and it almost has you melting where you lay.

You're so close, you can taste it on your tongue, and your moans get louder, needier, more frantic --

"Stop, Johnny."

Tears fall, then. Hot and heavy down your cheeks, leaving sticky tracks in their wake. Hiccups fall from your lips as you sob from the deprevation.

Johnny whines, head drooped low as he stops, and you can feel him pulse inside of you, both of you at your wits' end.

"You follow orders so well in this room, don't you?" John says. The voice of a captain.

It's almost your last straw. The devastation is too great, the mix of physical and emotion stress weighing on you heavily.

"'M so sorry, shoulda listened," you cry, body trembling.

"John, please, we're sorry," Kyle insists, a furrow between his dark brows where he takes a step closer to you and Johnny.

Simon, although silent, is also closer to you both now than he had been, no longer stood against the wall.

Your boys -- they're so inherently protective, and it's such a nice feeling. No matter how guilty they feel, how genuinely sorry, they can't stand to see you or Johnny so weak, so vulnerable.

Love. You love them, in a way words can never describe.

John exhales. A deep, thoughtful one.

"We're talking about this, after we're all cleaned up," he says. It's the first hint of himself that you've heard tonight, and the relief is like an intoxicating drug.

It's like even the room itself takes a deep breath, dispelling of some of the tension lining every inch of it.

"Off 'er," John snaps his fingers, and Johnny pulls out with a small whimper, head still hung low.

Grabbing your hips, John flips you over, making you bend so your face is to the desk and your ass is in the air. His large hand presses against your lower back, bending you into an arch.

He slides in, and it's an easy entry. You don't think you've been more wet in your life, and gods, you need it.

Setting a ruthless pace immediately, every thrust forces a whimper, a moan, a whine out of your mouth, eyes dazed as your cheek presses against the wood. His hand fists into your hair, forcing your head to face the three men stood side by side, watching you both with a flurry of emotions behind heavy stares.

"Feel so fuckin' good, christ," John seethes, his grip tightening in your hair, causing your moan to become louder as it leaves your lips.

It isn't long before you're at that cliff once more, begging for a final push, just so you can reach that finish you ache for.

"Gonna, fuck, please, let me cum, John, I love you, I'm so sorry," your words aren't fully your own, and they come out in a desperate plea.

"Yeah? My girl gonna cum for me? Needy slut."

Those words are your undoing, your nirvana.

You cum, body strung tight as tears fall down your cheeks once more, your vision nearly blacking out with the strength of your orgasm. It's almost painful, the stimulation altogether too much, and not enough.

John finishes not long after, his cum filling you up with a loud groan from him.

He releases his fist in your hair, and you head falls to the desk, body slumping with the final release of pleasure.

Stroking a smoothing hand down your back, he pulls out, and you can feel his seed leaking down your thighs. You must be a sight -- all worn out and dripping with the white liquid.

"We don't getta cum?" Johnny whines, and you can hear the roll of Simon's eyes.

There's a hand stroking stray hairs off of your face, and from the texture and size of the limb you can tell it's Kyle.

"You won't get to tomorrow, either, if you keep tha' up," Price mutters, and you let out a delusional giggle at his words. You're cum-drunk, almost, from how drawn out your orgasm had been.

"We really are sorry, Cap," Kyle murmurs genuinely, and the hurt is a sharp barb on his tongue. "You know we love you, didn't mean to hurt you."

John releases a long, worn-out breath. "I know that. I do. But you're a bunch of reckless muppets 'nd you fuckin' went too far today. I'm your captain, lover or not."

"We'll talk it over later," Simon states, and you can't help but agree with the sentiment.

You will. And it'll be a painful conversation, but one that you all owe to your captain.

Because, at the end of the day, you four would do anything for the man that you love. That includes the tough words, the difficult exchanges.

John presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, and with complete certainty, you're sure that you're all going to be okay.

a/n. the day that i stop loving poly 141 is the day that i die. price needs all the love omg this one kinda hurt to write cause oof angst but hopefully it was an enjoyable read!!!! thank you to everyone who comments on my fics, your notes etc make me do a lil happy dance ily all!!!!!!!!!!!!

[splaede]

AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 6) (18+)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER SIX. armin's first

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: Things get heated. Things get so, so heated.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: smut (p in v sex, fingering), fem bodied reader, loss of virginity, petting, literally most of this is foreplay

wc: 9.7k

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

In the dim of your living room, your eyes could only see him. And right here, on the plush of your couch, your body only knew his. 

Armin held you, secured you, and grounded you, strong arms snaked around your waist as you became all too aware of your intermingling bodies. The squish of your thighs against his, the unashamed press of your tits against his chest, the weight of his breaths against your lips…

You could still feel the tingle on your lips where he’d last kissed you, a ghost of his touch. 

Above you, the clock ticked louder and louder in your ears, louder than the blood that rushed to muffle your hearing and the pounding of your pulse, a looming reminder that it was late. That you had work in the morning. That you were running out of time. 

That you shouldn’t be doing this.

Another sound intruded on you. A voice, his voice, running rampant in the back of your head.

Will your roommate be home soon?

The fact that he’d asked that question…just what did he want?

And on top of that, you had already confirmed that, no, your roommate wasn’t going to be home any time soon. In fact, she wasn’t going to be home at all, meaning you’d have the entire night with him alone, undisturbed. 

Sitting here, Armin quietly eyed you, curious and content yet half-lidded and torn by lust. He suddenly silenced your thoughts with a kiss, swooping in hard, teeth clashing, causing you to instinctively grab his face to ease him down. 

The kiss oozed of messiness, an exchange of saliva and wet, meshed-together lips that barely held any rhythm. The feeling consumed you fully—the warmth and fervent press of his lips—as you slowly guided him. 

Lost in the intensity, you instinctively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip. He jolted, pulling away. 

You thought that was so cute of him, seeing him like this. So ironically innocent.

“S—sorry,” he stuttered out, a bashful look on his face. 

Your brows furrowed, worried that you had done something wrong. “Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s just….” He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I’m so nervous.”

Squeezing your hands on his shoulders, you reassured him, “It’s okay. We can go slow.” 

“Okay.”

Armin smiled up at you, so sweetly and boyishly—so contradictory to the thoughts you’d been having about him. But even so, he was still nothing like the little boy you’d known. Not when he was gazing at you with that blush, reddened and far-gone, and that glint of lust—that hunger—in his eyes. 

You still couldn’t believe he was here with you. If you’d known you’d be kissing your childhood friend ten years down the line, you’d probably flip out in disbelief. 

But he’d matured so much from then. That boy was nothing like the man under you, holding onto you. Nothing like how tempting and alluring and irresistible he looked right now. 

His palms flexed around your waist, once, then twice, then dragged up the sides of your torso, slowly, almost mindlessly, then back down. Pressed up like this, chest-to-chest, you could feel the racing of his heart so hard that you felt yourself rattling. And even though his hands had stopped shaking, the fast, repetitive thump inside his chest told you more than anything else ever would. 

Sitting in silence, hearts beating out of sync, you let him roam your body like that. Slowly and hesitantly, like he hadn’t quite fully grasped the situation. 

"You're a good friend,” he mumbled quietly, no longer meeting your eyes, fixated on where he was touching you instead. 

Cheeks heating up at the praise, you shuddered with a laugh that sounded a little too strained and nervous. 

You were a good friend? No, he was a good friend. He was the whole reason you wanted to do this in the first place. A good, caring, considerate friend that you would never turn down even if it meant putting your friendship on the line. 

“I trust you. I wouldn’t ask anyone else this,” he continued. 

Breathing in deep, you cupped his face affectionately. “No, please, you’re so good to me. How can I say no to you?” 

His hands stilled, and you could see how his eyes instantly softened. Armin’s right hand fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eyes meeting yours momentarily before darting away. 

“Thank you. So…can we keep going?” 

Your lips lifted into a small smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness. “Yeah, um. Do you…want to try using tongue now?”

As soon as you’d finished that sentence, you fought down the nervous, embarrassed lump that rose to your throat. It couldn’t get any more straightforward than that. 

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly and nodded.

“Slowly, okay? We’re just gonna ease into it. When I lick your lips, open your mouth a little. And then after that, it’s like…” You swallowed, tensing. “Um, I don’t really know how to explain it. Just try to match me.” 

He gazed at you with so much anticipation that you could almost taste it. Sliding your hands back onto his shoulders, you latched onto his lips again. 

This time, there wasn’t a rush. Just slow, methodical, and relaxed movement as you relished the softness of his lips. You loved this feeling. Soft and sweet, like him. 

His hands began roaming your body again, starting from the sides of your chest down to the tops of your thighs. His palms slightly brushed the outer parts of your breasts, but it was still nowhere close to where you really wanted him.

You took this as a cue to mimic him, hands gliding down to his biceps where you gave him a light squeeze. Even though you knew he worked out, you were still surprised to feel the dips and tautness of hard muscle. It wasn’t that you forgot, it was that you didn’t normally expect it from Armin, someone usually so nice and mellow. 

As you trailed down his stomach, you could feel the defined ridges of his abs under your splayed palms, and you swore you almost moaned. For someone with such a cute face, he had such a strong body. 

When your tongue finally soothed over his bottom lip, he parted his lips ever-so-slightly. And the moment you slipped your tongue in, he let out a small noise that was so, so quiet. Your tongues met, warm and wet. 

You could tell he was hesitant, but you continued at the same pace, slowly licking into him and swiping your tongue over his. He’d completely stilled, hands etching themselves harder into your waist. As you were letting yourself taste him, something tugged on your heart, weighing heavy. 

Because it dawned on you that you were making out with Armin. 

Something so intimate and passionate like this could only be reserved for lovers, not for friends.

Armin reluctantly slipped his hands under your shirt. Just right there, right at the threshold of your torso and not any further, like he was testing the waters. He held you there, only tasting. Your breath hitched, startled by the warmth of his fingers, but the flow of the kiss remained the same. 

The pressure of his tongue was soothing as it moved against yours, and he was getting the hang of it little by little. And the moment it seemed to click—where it felt like you’d reached the perfect rhythm and the perfect amount of energy—you moaned into his mouth to let him know he was doing good. Thank God he was a fast learner. 

Cradling his neck into your arms and threading your fingers into his hair, you rolled your hips into him experimentally, pelvises meeting. You heard him inhale sharply, but he didn’t break the kiss. He only tightened his hold on you, pushing you down slightly as he rolled his hips, matching you.

The friction felt so undeniably good. You knew he felt good, too, because you could feel the area of his crotch stiffen under you.

It was like that for a while, the two of you grinding on each other, so focused on outdoing the other that the kiss wasn’t even a kiss anymore. Just a mix of messy lips and hitched moans and saliva. So much so that you had to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth. 

You were the first to pull away for air. 

“How was it?” he instantly asked, licking his lips. They were swollen, and that gave you the urge to kiss him again. 

“Just a little messy. But good. You did good for your first time.” You laughed. 

He laughed with you, bringing a thumb to swipe over the corner of your mouth. “Sorry about that.” 

Just like that, the two of you shared a cute moment, and you began to think that nothing would change between you—that you two would still be friends and embrace these moments no matter what. 

As the atmosphere from your makeout session died down, you were left with one final thought. 

What now?

“Hey…” you started. You didn’t even know how to word this. Do you know where this is going? Do you even want to keep going? 

You stood up, all too abruptly like you were running on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up with your body, hands detaching from his neck and thighs from his lap. You looked at him warily, wedged between the coffee table and his parted legs.  

Armin frantically stood up, too, half hard in his pants as he reached for your forearm. “Something wrong?”

It was late, you remembered again. 

But now, in this lapse of judgment, you guessed it didn't matter if you should or shouldn't continue. Not when he was staring at you, pleading with his eyes—with his body. You could almost hear his heart thumping out of his chest.

You wondered if he could hear yours, too.

“Um,” you trailed off, wondering how to save yourself.

Before you had the chance to recollect your thoughts, Armin cut you off. “Sorry, um. I mean, I know it’s late…if that’s what you were going to say. I should probably go. You did say I should only stay for a little bit—”

“No—wait, no.” You pressed a palm to his chest. 

Armin subtly tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you had work in the morning?”

“I know, but...” Your eyes trailed down to his crotch, suddenly guilty. “Do you want to stay?”

He regarded you with a look of uncertainty, hands hovering beside your arms like he was about to hold you. “Yeah…?”

“Then…what do you want to do?” It came out in a slight whisper, and you instantly wanted to slap yourself for that question because, one, it was definitely the wrong question. All you wanted was clarity as to whether he knew where this was going, and two, what did you mean by what he wanted to do? 

You could feel his eyes burning into your head, but yours were averted to where the neckline of his tee dipped down to reveal his collarbone.

He gulped. “What do I want to do?” he parroted, breathing in a steady breath. “Um…what do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, knowing you were going to sound desperate. “Was kissing…all you wanted to do?” 

He looked visibly taken aback now, lashes fluttering as his eyes flitted over your form in surprise. 

“No…” 

“Then what?” 

Maybe you really were desperate as you stood here so close to him, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache. 

“Well, I think—I think you know,” he mumbled shamefully. “Don’t make me say it.” 

“Say it. Please? I just want to be sure.”

He pursed his lips, too, while contemplating, flushed a deep pink on his cheeks. “I want us to…go the whole way. I want you.” He cleared his throat. “To teach me.”

For a long moment, you were convinced you stopped breathing. 

It was so loud now. Your heartbeat was so unbearably loud, reverberating and bursting through your ears. A breathless silence filled the room.

He didn't waver. Not once. He only gazed straight into your eyes—straight through you, irises deep and blue and overwhelming and darkened by lust. He'd lost that innocent, bright shine long ago.

The beat of your heart only quickened, even quicker than what it already was.

Was this it? Was this the next step? Was this it after all of those needy kisses and flimsy touches and longing, vulnerable stares? 

Nevertheless, a sense of relief washed over you. You wanted this, too, despite the fact that you were risking something precious to you. Something irreversible.

Not that'd you stop now. 

And then you were onto him, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. He returned it just as quickly, rough and intimate. His hands slid to your waist and held you tight against his body while you clung onto him like it was the end of the world. 

Licking his lips teasingly, you murmured in between the kiss, “My room.” 

He broke away a little, muttering a little “okay” before you cut him off by pressing your mouth back onto his. 

When you pulled away, he surprised you with his next words. 

“Can I carry you?” 

Without hesitation, you lightly jumped onto him, and he caught you, carrying you effortlessly in his strong arms. You loved the feeling of his hands on the back of your thighs, firm and warm. He was so surprisingly muscly that you wanted to squeal. 

The walk wasn’t far in your small apartment space, and you quickly found yourself being placed gingerly onto your bed and your limbs untangling from his body. He stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do. You scooted back onto your pillows, beckoning him to come closer. 

“Get on top of me.” You tugged on the front of his tee. “Like this.” 

He stumbled onto your bed, settling in between your legs as his hands braced him up. You tugged him even closer still, and he fell to his forearms. 

You looked up at him only to find him blushing, a dark, rosy color tinting the apples of his cheeks, watching you with eager eyes as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

Heat bubbled in your stomach. “Are you sure you want to do this? Remember, this is…this is for you. This is about how you feel.” 

“I’m sure,” he answered quickly. 

Then, Armin kissed you for the millionth time tonight, but this time, it was short yet thorough, like he just missed your taste. 

“Kiss me on my neck,” you urged, craning your head. “Just don’t leave any marks.”

Armin dipped down instantly, but he stilled for the next second, hesitantly staring at your neck. The conviction finally hit him and his lips met your skin, ticklish and titillating and warm. He peppered slow kisses along the juncture of your neck, leaving one long, suckling kiss—one hard enough to make you feel good but soft enough not to leave a mark. You could tell he was unsure about his movements, so you softly grabbed him by the hair to bring him to a specific spot. 

“Right—ah—there. Yeah,” you assured him as he gave another suckling kiss. 

“Is this good?” he asked timidly into your skin, and you could feel the tickle of where his lips moved. 

You hummed in response. “It’s good. You’re doing good,” you replied, words tumbling out of your mouth in an awkward way. 

He pulled away, and his eyes raked over your form, suddenly stopping at your chest. While you should’ve been excited, something else happened. Something like dismay filled his eyes as his brows twitched downwards. 

“Is this Eren’s sweater?”

Oh. 

“Yeah?” you weakly breathed out, voice pitched a higher octave than you’d like.

His eyes flitted back to your face again, still strewn with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but knew wasn’t good. 

“Can I take it off?” he asked, pawing the hem of your sweater. He seemed confident almost, but you knew that the barely discernible, nervous strain in the thrum of his voice gave it all away.

You nodded wordlessly like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

Armin grabbed onto the hem of your sweater with both hands, peeling it off you so slowly that you couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or just simply nervous. Your stomach coiled in anticipation the farther he went, with each inch of skin he revealed. He was so agonizingly slow—or maybe you were so impatient that it felt like time had slowed down—yet the rush of cool air against your torso was instant. 

The moment he reached your bra, your heart seemed to beat out of your chest, and you needed to steady your breathing. 

He stopped and looked for only a minuscule second, as if he didn’t dare to stare any longer, and picked up the pace, pushing the last of your sweater above your raised arms. 

“Pants, too,” you whispered softly. 

With shaky hands, Armin obediently worked them off, past the fabric of your panties, all the way down your legs. 

He’d seen you in a bikini before, but it was different this time. You were laid out all nicely in front of him, clad in a bra and thin panties. On your bed, for him. 

The newfound cold nipped everywhere at your skin, goosebumps prodding up your arms and legs. 

“Take my bra off for me.” You said shakily, turning to your side to give him access. “You know how?” 

He laughed out what seemed to be a mix of a chuckle and a scoff. “I’m sure it isn’t hard.” His knuckles brushed the skin of your back as he took hold of the straps and unclasped your bra. You could feel his hands shaking against your back. “Easy.” 

As he slid it off of you, that heavy feeling in your heart resurfaced, and you began to feel self-conscious.

But it was just Armin, you reminded yourself. 

Your upper body was now completely bare to him. The cool of the air swept over your already-hardening nipples. 

Armin only stared at you. Didn’t say a word. Just outright ogled you with raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes as his hands twitched where they were resting near his thighs. 

You grabbed both of his hands, placing his palms directly on your chest. “C’mon. Touch me.”

Gulping hard, he leaned into you, broad, unpracticed hands cupping your tits, squeezing just once. Then his hands started moving, experimentally pushing and squeezing over the plush of your tits, palms grazing over the peaks of your pebbled nipples. 

You clamped your eyes shut, letting yourself go for the moment. It felt so pleasant, just steady friction against your sensitive breasts. 

Armin’s hands were soft—that much you already knew—just as everything else was about him. But while his hands were soft and gentle, his gaze was hard. He was so fixed and focused on you, blue eyes practically dripping with unbridled lust. 

He cupped your tits again, a soft nudge, then his hands slid down the curve of your waist. You could feel the trail of warmth that his fingers left on your skin. It clung to you even as his hands moved away to rest on your abdomen. His thumbs pressed into your skin so briefly that his touch might’ve been a spasm of a finger as the bottoms of his palms grazed against the hem of your panties. 

The warmth followed down the curve of your hips, down your thighs, and down to your knees. You shifted your legs closer to your body, and his hands quickly cupped the underside of your thighs, squeezing once. 

You knew this was his first time, so you let him explore your body as your hand came to his cheek to pull him down for another kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips, and you happily welcomed it. 

His hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your hips, your waist, your shoulders, your neck, your arms. You could tell he was losing rhythm between keeping up with the kiss and touching you, but you couldn’t care less. 

He pulled away first, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your lips. 

“Armin, play with my….” The embarrassment hit you again. You didn’t even want to finish your sentence, but luckily, he seemed to understand. 

“Oh.” His fingers found your tits again, thumbs swiping over your nipples before he lightly pinched them, tugging them upwards. “Like this?” 

You gasped and squirmed. “Yeah. Like that. Just very lightly. Try rolling them between your fingers.” 

His thumb and index finger met with your nipples, and he did what you told him, twisting and rolling your nipples between his fingers. 

That elicited a little whine from you. “Feels nice.” 

Armin continued his ministrations on you as he alternated between tweaking your nipples and groping your tits whole. It was sensual and quiet, save for the sound of your soft moans.

He suddenly sighed, eyes clouded. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered softly and fondly.  

You didn’t answer. Instead, you smiled at him and let your cheeks heat up from his compliment. It caught you off guard. Because somehow, in a suggestive moment like this, he managed to make it sweet. Judging from the tone of his voice, you knew it was genuine. 

Because he was a genuine guy.

You cupped the back of his head and pushed him toward your chest. “Put your mouth here.” 

He doubled back, eyes wide, but didn’t waste another second to envelop his lips onto your chest. He followed your orders so easily—like a dog to its owner—that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the charm of it. 

For a second, you wondered if he needed guidance, but when his tongue laved over your breast, you only held his head tighter as your back arched off the bed in pleasure. His eyelids fluttered shut, feathery, blonde lashes resting against his cheekbones. He kissed your nipple just as he kissed you, licking and sucking meticulously and thoroughly. 

One of the things that you liked about Armin was that he was such an adaptable learner. Took things he learned and applied them somewhere else. Not that any of this required any big skill, but he just did it so well and so quickly. 

You grabbed his hand and brought it to your other nipple, and he quickly understood, playing with you like he did before.

Suddenly, his teeth took hold of your nipple—just a light graze, and you gasped again. You felt the ache between your thighs throb, shamelessly getting wetter. Where did he learn to do that? 

“Okay, that’s—that’s good.” You tapped his cheek. “Over here now.” 

His mouth unlatched with a pop and he switched to the other breast, repeating the same routine. You felt the remnants of his saliva on your skin mix with the cool air, tingling. 

You were sure your panties were drenched now. Sure that the arousal made the fabric stick to you. 

Armin pulled away, licking the spit from his lips, and looked right into your eyes. “Was that okay?” he asked innocently. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, but you were convinced it came out more as a whine. You clutched a handful of the fabric of his tee. “Off.” 

He sat up straighter, surprised but willing. “Off? Okay, okay.” Armin reached behind him to grab the collar of his T-shirt, and in one swift yank, it came off. He threw his shirt on the floor like the rest of your clothes, and you were left to ogle at his body. 

Your eyes raked over the smooth planes of his chest, his slim waist, and the hard, toned stomach where your hands had previously felt. 

Even at pools and beaches, he opted for T-shirts with his swim trunks. And the last time you’d seen him shirtless, he wasn’t this jacked. 

“I never get to see you like this. You’re so—you’re so built.” The fluster was so evident in your voice as you trailed your fingers down his torso. 

He shyly laughed, pink on his cheeks. “Thank you.” 

“You’re so pretty, Armin.” Before the embarrassment and weight of your compliment caught up to you, you quickly grabbed the hem of his jeans. “Take—take this off, too.” 

You eyed the bulge beneath his pants, hard and begging to be freed. 

You gulped. Now you two were really getting into it—seeing and doing something so intimate. You had no problem undressing yourself, but when it came to him…

He nodded as his hands fumbled with the button and zipper, thumbs slotted in between his waistband as he shakily pulled them down. You helped him get them off, anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins. 

Once his jeans were off, he seemed even bigger now. You could see the clear outline of his dick straining against his boxers, and it was messing with your head. This was your best friend, for crying out loud. Both of your most intimate places were each just a layer away, just inches away. 

“Fuck, I’m so—” His eyes scanned over you, from the eager expression on your face, to your bare tits, and to your legs that were spread to accommodate him. “You don’t know how hard I am right now.” 

You gulped again. “Yeah?” you teased, palming him through his boxers. 

He sharply inhaled and cursed low under his breath, but before you could go any further, he grabbed your wrist. There was a look of worry on his face—maybe it was desperation, you thought—and you wondered if you did something wrong.

“W—wait. I want to know how to make you feel good.” 

Your face morphed into one of surprise. Armin wanted to please you first. 

You felt the arousal creeping up on you. Felt it soaking your panties again. 

You breathed out slowly, and for a second, the words died on your tongue. He was going to see you fully naked. Only a flimsy piece of fabric away from erasing the line between your friendship and this…whatever this was. 

“Yeah, that’s good. Wanting to please your partner first, that is.” You regained your footing. “Help me take them off?” You eyed him innocently and pulled his hands towards your body until his knuckles touched your panties. 

He stared for a moment—definitely at the wet, darkened patch over your crotch. Armin finally took hold of the hem of your panties, fingers hot against the skin of your pelvis. Unblinking, he pulled them down gently, agonizingly slow. You could feel your slick sticking to your panties and the fabric grazing your almost quivering thighs. In an instant, cool air rushed to you. 

His eyes never left you as he pulled your panties past your knees and ankles, so fixated and eager that he made you nervous. The coil in your stomach returned, tense, like it was moments away from bursting. 

You felt like a virgin all over again. You were embarrassed—even though you knew you shouldn’t be because it was just Armin—and on the brink of clamping your legs together, but you couldn’t because his body was right in between you, even closer than you’d noticed before. 

“God, you’re so…” Armin gulped. He was quiet, muttering to himself, struggling to find his words, and nervously pushing his hair back. It fell back messily onto his forehead. “What do I…what do I do now?” 

Clutching his hand between both of your palms, you shaped his hand into a “thumbs up” sign and brought it to your slit, spreading yourself with one hand. “This is the clit. If you…if you didn’t already know.” 

His thumb grazed over your clit, and a twinge of pleasure shot up your lower body. 

“I know.” 

Armin thumbed your clit some more, swiping circles and pressing down lightly. You could feel yourself get wetter by the second.

“Is this good?” he asked. 

“Mhm. A little faster—oh! Yeah, that’s good.” Your hips bucked as he sped up. “You—you could also use your middle and ring finger.” 

You demonstrated with your hand, and he quickly followed, pressing his fingers onto you again. 

This time, he started off slow and worked his way to match the pace from before. 

“A little lower.” And suddenly you were arching off the bed. “Oh! Wait—”

“Am I doing it right?” he interjected, voice shaky. He was watching for your reaction, blue eyes boring into your face. 

You nodded as the pleasure spread through your lower body. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad in the slightest. He made you feel good, nonetheless. The pads of his fingers were warm and smooth, rubbing all the right ways against your clit. 

“You wanna move down now?” you asked. 

Wordlessly, his eyes flicked down to your entrance, and the urge to clamp your legs shut returned to you again. You were dripping—you had to be, slick with your wetness pooling around your center. He lingered for a second before his attention diverted back onto your face. 

“Show me how.” He said, adamant. 

“Just know that…” Your fingers ghosted over his knuckles. “You don’t have to necessarily make me cum. This is just to stretch me out. To prep for the real thing.”  

He regarded you with a tiny frown and peered at you hungrily through his long lashes. “What if I want to?” 

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach simmered with warmth. 

“Well, you can.” You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. Taking his hand in yours, you isolated his middle and ring fingers and held them close to your entrance. As you did so, something tingled and churned inside your stomach. Nervousness, you thought, apprehension, maybe. Not in a bad way, but in the way that every next step with him left you remembering just how private and raw this was. 

“Just like that,” you whispered. 

With a gulp, his fingers slid into your soaked cunt. You were so wet and tight, and you knew he could feel it. Feel it envelop his finger, warm and so, so slick. You instinctively clamped down on him as he pushed further. 

“Oh, God…Y-Y/N,” he all but stuttered out. “Is—is this what it…”

The desperation showed clearly on his face: lips parted, brows knitted, and eyes drooping with lust.

You grabbed his wrist. “K—Keep going.” 

His fingers reached their hilt inside of you, and you had to resist squeezing down on him. He felt like no other guy you’d been with. Because he really wasn’t any other guy. 

He pulled them out swiftly, fingers and knuckles now tainted with the remnants of you. “What—what else?” he choked out. 

The absence of his fingers left you wanting more. With your grip still on his wrist, you tugged his hand closer to your center. “Curl your fingers like this. When you’re inside.” You choked, too, and cleared your throat. “Just keep moving.”

“Like this?” He entered you again, gently, and pressed against a spot inside you that drove your hips to lurch off the bed. 

You nodded weakly, whining. “More.” Your hand on his wrist urged him out, pulling backward. Confused, he slightly resisted. But when you pushed him back in, he seemed to understand the hint.  

Armin pressed into you, thrusting his fingers in and curling them right at that sweet spot that had you gasping out. He slid in and out so easily, guided by the slickness of your insides, and worked slowly, almost teasingly, but you squeezed his arm, encouraging him.

“Right there,” you gasped out. “You’re doing so good.” 

He groaned in response, a borderline moan. “H—Here?” And curled right into your G-spot. 

You let out an abrupt gasp, akin to a stuttered breath, hips bucking upwards as pleasure seeped into your insides. His pace was reckless, but the calculated way the pads of his fingers pushed and grazed against your G-spot had your stomach twisting and your heart racing. 

Beside you, you noticed his other hand fisting the bedsheets. Reaching out, you put a hand on top of his. “You okay?” you asked breathily.

Armin glanced up at you, eyes blown out, pupils dilated in such a starved, animalistic way that looked so out of character. He surprised you by lacing his fingers between yours. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” 

It caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to register your shock before you were crying loud with a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Please.” You didn’t know why he was even asking. 

Armin’s lips crashed onto yours, capturing you in the most heated kiss of the night. Immediately, he dominated the kiss, all spit and tongue, lips hot and molding together with a firm press. His fingers kept fucking into you relentlessly, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds. 

His other hand held yours still, squeezing once before letting go and landing on your waist. 

“Just wanna feel you,” he mumbled. 

Nodding, you strung your hands through his hair as he caressed your waist and tits. His palms grazed over your nipples, making you shudder and bite back a moan. 

The coil inside your stomach winded tight and kept winding tighter and tighter when his fingers hit that spot again. The pleasure swirled through you, wave after wave, your hips lurching off the bed and your hands gripping his hair even tighter. 

You moaned into his mouth. “So close.” 

He groaned, drawn-out, lips wet with saliva, swallowing the noises that came out of your mouth. 

“You’re doing so good,” you praised. 

Armin whimpered at that—whimpered—and picked up the pace, faster, harder. It was sloppy, but it wasn’t imprecise. He flicked up into you so perfectly until you were stretched out and dripping, and until it finally snapped. 

The coil snapped. 

“Armin, I’m—I’m cumming! Don’t stop!”

“Hol—Holy shit, Y/N—”

The coil snapped, and sweet euphoria coursed through you, rushing through you like open floodgates. You gushed onto him in the same way, cunt fluttering against the thickness of his fingers. The feeling hit you like a truck and filled you whole. 

“Can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled under his breath in a desperate whine. 

You pulled him into a desperate kiss—or was it that he pushed the kiss onto you?—and he dipped down to embrace you. The twitching weight of his clothed cock brushed against your thigh. It wasn’t intentional—at least you didn’t think, but it only reminded you of what was to come next. 

As he slowed down, you felt your cum leaking down his knuckles and onto the bedsheets. 

“Was that…good?” Armin timidly asked between heavy breaths. Above you, he panted like a dog, even more than you, pretty pink lips parted as if he was the one being fucked. So cute. 

You stayed quiet for a moment, relishing in your subsiding orgasm, fatigued and cozy. 

“Mhm. That was amazing. You did amazing for your first time.” 

He visibly relaxed, slumped back onto his heels, and sighed. “Really? Th—Thank you.” 

Even from above you, he looked submissive, face filled with a desperate need. You giggled at his shyness. The irony of it. “Yes, Armin, you…you just made me cum. That’s…”

Uncertainty weighed down on your tongue. Impressive? Was it really impressive, or should it have been expected from him? A part of you knew that he didn’t need any effort. Not because he was somehow a natural or that he was a fast learner, but that it was him, and that gives your body enough stimulation to push itself off the edge. 

Hazy and blinded by your orgasm and the strong presence between your legs, you stopped yourself from dwelling on it any further.

“Y/N, what do I do with this…?” He lifted his hand, still slicked with your fluids. His middle and ring fingers parted further, and your shiny, milky cum stretched between his fingers. The sight almost made you gape, such a contrast to the curiosity and genuine concern brimming in his eyes. 

“Taste it.”

He sent you a look so incredulous and so quick, those blue eyes widened to the depths as if your suggestion meant total absurdity. “Taste it?”

“Taste it. It’s hot when men do that. Or, you could also make the girl taste it,” you pushed, rising from your spot. You grabbed his wrist, leading it closer to his mouth. 

He hesitated and tensed, but when his eyes met yours, you only leaned in, urging him with a look in your eyes. He complied quietly and stuck out his tongue. 

The sight was lewd. His face reddened impossibly more, up to the tips of his ears, as his mouth engulfed his two fingers wholly. He crinkled his nose so subtly that you couldn’t tell what ran through his mind. He tasted your fluids on his tongue, sucked it for a second, then swallowed. 

Armin’s fingers slid out with a little pop, and you didn’t waste another moment to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself when you pressed your tongue against his. He moaned at the sudden intrusion but melted into you easily. You could already feel his improvement as he reciprocated your energy and licked your mouth so nicely that the naturalness of it baffled you. 

A passing thought in your head told you that this might’ve been too much for his first time, but when he dragged his clothed dick against your clit, you knew he enjoyed this as much as you did. You both shivered a little from the contact, prompting him to pull away.

“So…” he started, voice tiny and breathless. “What’s next?” But the way his eyes darted to your bare, leaking pussy and then to the bulge in his boxers suggested he knew exactly what came next. 

You looked, too. Looked at the tight fit of his boxers on his bulging cock. Something about it—the unexpected size of him—made you giddy. Swelled your stomach with an indescribable weirdness. 

“Take your boxers off.” Though you asked him, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking your hands to his hips and taking hold of the waistband. “Can I?” 

He nodded hurriedly and gulped, tension and desperation etched on his face. 

You pulled his boxers down, and with a little lift from his hips, you got them down to his strong thighs. Immediately, his cock sprung up against his abdomen, leaking precum that beaded down his red, aching tip. You licked your lips and gulped involuntarily at the sight because he was just so…

“Big…” you whispered softly. 

“What?” He sounded out of it, like his question hadn’t carried any weight, rubbing a palm over his eyelids and pushing it into his hair. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. An unspoken awkwardness filled the air as Armin removed his boxers completely. “Is—Is something wrong?” 

He sat in front of you, naked in his entirety. Broad, smooth chest, taut, defined abs, muscly arms, thick thighs, and the softest, sweetest face that did not match the rock-hard, needy cock between his legs. 

“Armin, I…I didn’t know you were so…big.” 

He sputtered out, “W—What? I’m—I’m really not.”

He looked so nervous, so unsure. So sweet and so submissive. Instead of answering him, you wrapped both hands around his dick, lightly squeezed, and swiped a thumb over the slit where his precum spilled. You spread it down his shaft, wetting him with his own fluids. 

“Agh…fuck…” he groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When you started jerking your hands up and down the length of his dick, his head moved forward and his hands came to cup your face. His hips bucked up with every jerk. You sensed his stare, but you were too occupied playing with his pretty dick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented quietly. He gulped so hard you heard the small breath that followed after. “I wish you could see how you look right now.” 

“Yeah?” you teased, looking up at him between your long lashes. His eyes, lidded and drooping with lust, scanned your body, from your face to where your legs parted and revealed your slit. 

“I don’t think you understand how pretty you are to me.” He inhaled sharply and brought a hand to squeeze the area where his shaft met his head, right over where your hand rested. “I could just cum looking at you.” 

You didn’t expect that from him. He was just so obscenely honest, wasn’t he?

“Y/N.” He suddenly stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “I think—I think that’s good…don’t wanna take the spotlight. I’m here to please you.” 

Your chest warmed at his words, and you fought down the urge to continue pleasing him to release your hands. 

“O—Okay,” you stuttered out, gulping and shivering all in one breath. Your body moved on its own and reached for your nightstand. Deep in the last drawer, stashed behind all of your cluttered knick-knacks, sat an unopened box of condoms. Three, actually.

Shakily, under his watchful gaze, you tore apart a box and unveiled a singular, foiled package. 

"Oh, you have a lot." He stared in mild disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling. If you knew any better, you'd think he was smirking under there.

“It's not what it looks like! Sasha gifted it to me as a gag gift. I haven't done anything in a while,” you quickly defended, trailing off quietly at the end. 

He didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the package between your fingers. The air held still, deathly silent beside the sounds of the crinkling wrapper. He had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, very lightly squeezing. 

“You know how to put on a condom?” you finally spoke up. 

“I think so.” He nodded. 

“Want to do it?” 

He hesitated, and you caught the exact moment an idea clicked in his head. “No. Want you to do it.” 

Something about that riled you up. Something about him watching you. Something about your dainty hands near his aching, needy cock, too impure for the likes of him. 

He whimpered when you started sliding the condom down the length of his cock. The sweet sound of it rang through your ears. Made your heart lurch and your stomach heavy. When you finished, your head lifted to look him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed so pink you wanted to kiss the color off of them. 

“Ready?” You ignored the way your voice shook, borderline a stutter, and circled your arms around his neck. 

“Yes. Please,” he whined. He was speaking with his eyes—begging with his eyes.

In one fell swoop, you both clambered down onto the sheets. And in this moment, when your eyes met his in a sweet remembrance, it felt like time had stopped, and all the anticipation you’d ever felt plummeted back into the pit of your stomach and built back up all over again. 

He loomed above you, flushed, domineering, and most importantly, nervous.

You only wanted one thing. 

"Please. Need you inside me."

He inhaled a deep, unsteady breath, holding back a whine. 

Then, you felt the tip of his dick brush against the slicked mess of your opening, and you clenched around the empty, ghostly graze. The hands on your thighs pressed into you with a little more pressure at the contact. He was shaking. His whole body was shaking.

“P—Put it in slowly, ‘kay? Don’t want to hurt the other person.” 

Armin listened, and in that final moment of anticipation, he slid in slowly, just the tip. You both gasped at the feeling. You were so, so wet and your heart beat so, so fast and his skin against your skin felt so, so right and so, so warm. The stretch had yet to creep up on you but you were already squirming under his touch. 

He pushed into you, the feeling of him inside warm and fulfilling. He let out a strained “shitttt” as his hands moved to dig into your waist even harder. Eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to lose himself in the pleasure. You could tell by his labored breaths and flushed cheeks that he already was so, so sensitive.

With a final push, he bottomed out, touching a spot deep in you, far deeper than your fingers or his fingers or any other man that had come before him. And God, were you wet. Instinctively, your pussy clenched around him. 

He hissed, pinning you down with his pelvis. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Please, or I’m going to cum.” 

And then it hit you—that you’d finally done it. That you’d just taken Armin’s virginity. 

You had. 

Shit, you clamped down on him again, and this time, he groaned and abruptly pulled out. 

“Y/N,” he warned, voice drawn with honey. “I am not going to last,” he said, exasperated. 

“It’s okay. It’s your first time.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Besides, you’re with me. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

He leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your hands, then gave you a small frown. 

“Then how am I supposed to make you feel good?”

“Trust me. You’ll always make me feel good.”

With a cute—yet sinful—smile and a hard swallow, he lined himself up again, hands on your thighs, and gave an experimental thrust.

You whined at the intrusion, reminded again of how he fit so perfectly. How the hardness of his cock dragged so pleasantly against the slickness of your pussy. 

And he did it again and again. Thrusted into you, albeit slowly, again and again. You’d let him intoxicate you again and again until all your body knew was the shape of his cock.

He moved deliberately, relishing every inch sheathed inside of you. He’d pull out with all the time in the world, dick coated in your wetness and eyes locked on where your bodies intertwined, and thrust back in with the most fervor and impatience.

The slowness of it, the intimacy of it—you couldn’t help but buck your hips in hopes of more. 

With soft moans, his thrusts sped up, and without a warning, you felt him fully, the whole weight of him spilling inside of you. His hands slid up to your waist as his head tipped forward. You arched your back into him in a silent plea, finding yourself yearning for his pretty lips, the knot inside of your stomach swelling with pleasure. As if he could read your mind, he drowned your lips in a feverish, hot, kiss, burning your mouth with his tongue. 

Every thrust met with the slap of skin-on-skin and the squelch of your fluids. It echoed through your bedroom walls alongside your muffled, whiny moans. You let yourself sink into the pleasure, letting him know that you felt good—that he made you feel good. 

Because truly, he did nothing wrong; it all felt so right with him. 

As he broke away from the kiss, leaving yet another string of saliva between you two, you took the chance to grab his hand. 

“Play with my body. Like here.” You placed his palm onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand underneath yours. “Or here.” You sensually dragged his hand down to your slicked-up, aching clit. 

Wordlessly, he complied, gulping down a constricted moan that bobbed his Adam’s apple. Armin rubbed your clit like you’d taught him, watching your hips wriggle under his touch.  

As a reward, you tightened around him. Oh, did you like seeing him lose composure. You liked picking him apart. You liked plucking the petals off of this innocent, little flower. And judging from his dazed, barely present expression and the hands gripping hard onto your hips, you knew he liked it too.

He whined again, and the sound rang in the air in a soft whisper. So vocal, wasn’t he?

“Don’t be afraid to make noise. I wanna know how good you feel,” you asserted through lidded eyes. 

Armin hummed a noise of confirmation, but it came out more of a moan as he juggled responding to you and recklessly pounding into you. You could tell he felt good—too good—as did you. 

The ebb and flow of pleasure swam inside you with each fill of his cock into your pussy, waiting to burst. You felt so close yet far away, but you let him experiment, toying with you, trying every angle in both erratic and deliberate ways. 

“Fuck!” you both cursed simultaneously with a perfect thrust into that spot inside of you. Your back arched off the bed unwillingly, arms clasping around his back and nails digging into his skin. 

Armin moaned oh-so-sweetly. “I’m so close!” he panted out, a borderline whine. 

“Cum for me. Please, Armin. Do it.” 

And his hips never stopped. Kept fucking hastily and sloppily into you in chase of his climax and in chase of the sweet yelps pouring out of your mouth. You spurred him on, almost able to taste his final moment. 

But the moment never came. You could hear the relentless, wet smack of your colliding bodies and the mix of low groans and hearty moans tumbling from his lips. His hips still never stopped, still chasing, still tasting. 

You couldn’t believe he lasted this long. He really did want to hold out for you, to make you feel good. 

Mewling again, you tightened your arms around his neck, the warmth scalding but the softness soothing under your fingertips. “Touch me. Please.” 

His fingers pinched your perk nipple before you could even finish your sentence. He rolled the bud around with his thumb and forefinger until he heard you moan, finally laying a palm down to squeeze your entire tit—and squeezed hard. You relished in the way his hand trailed down, slowly, to where he could swipe his fingers over your throbbing clit. 

Right now, all you knew was the shape of his cock. Heat radiated from his body and wrapped around you in a warm embrace. His breath tickled your earlobe, face hovering just above the crook of your neck. 

Oh, please, it felt so good, so intimate. Everything about this. Everything about him. 

"I love you. I love you so much,” he rasped through squeezed-shut eyes.

You looked at him wide-eyed, confused, and spellbound within the haze of lust, so out of that you believed your ears played a trick on you. It slipped out of his lips so wantonly you believed he uttered the words accidentally.

Your room suddenly felt too stuffy and a hundred more degrees hotter. A lone, oddly watchful bead of sweat rolled down your brow. 

It took him only a second of your silence before he started nervously blabbering in your ear. "Um, wait, sorry. Shit. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.” 

He slowly inched away from you, but you paid no mind and pulled him back onto your lips. 

You didn’t care that, caught so deep in emotion and pleasure, he said “I love you” during sex—during his first time, no less. His first time with you. And now, after it happened, you didn’t care to warn him of that taboo. You wanted to selfishly indulge in the possibility that he’d always say it to you, regardless of who he shared his first time with. 

In your pleasurable bliss, you let yourself give in. “I love you too, Armin.”

He pulled away abruptly, your lips pulling apart with a wet click, disrupting the strange magnetism between the two of you. 

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, then kissed you full force. 

His love seeped into every pore of your body when he started thrusting into you again, full and hard and deep and starved. He didn’t spare you a chance to breathe with the way his mouth and cock engulfed you whole. 

A mixture of whines, moans, and smacks filled your bedroom once more. The pounding rhythm between your legs grew sloppier, though still unyielding and energetic. You wanted to cry out, louder than ever and let your neighbors know because everything felt so unexpectedly good. Armin. Your best friend. 

You ran your hands through his already-messed-up, blonde hair. You loved this look on him, a side of him that people never saw. Disheveled, falling apart, and...crazy.

He leaned back on his knees, still moving his hips, lust-filled eyes a dark, stormy blue that raked over your body. 

And he did something you didn't expect of him—like he let it slip, like he couldn't keep his composure anymore. 

He smirked down at you. 

But you were convinced it was a mere twitch in your delirium, disappearing when you blinked. 

His tip brushed your G-spot again, and you finally did cry out. “Right there! D—Don’t stop!” 

Armin groaned in response, choking on his words, and suddenly laved a tongue over the pulse point in your neck. “You feel—you feel so good! I can’t hold…!”

That coil in your stomach thrashed with the need to burst and taunted you with the promise of an orgasm. You felt tight all over, so constricted with pleasure and emotion and heat. 

“Y/N, you’re driving me crazy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—”

“M—Me, too! I’m close. Cum for me, please.”  

With one last thrust, he came, moaning loud, spilling hot cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as a gradual warmth filled your insides. 

Fuck, that did it for you. You came right behind him, wrapping your legs around him tight like a vice, white-hot pleasure consuming every vein in your body. In that moment, you kissed him and clamped your eyes shut, focusing hard, your cunt squeezing down on him to wring out the last of his orgasm, fluttering and pulsing so uncontrollably hard. It was like your pussy never wanted to let him go, wanted to relish the last of that feeling of home when his cock rooted deep into your pussy. 

All the while, he spewed praises at you, some dirty, some sweet.

You couldn’t tell how long the two of you took to come down, to stop kissing, for your cunt to stop gushing, and for him to pull out—because it seemed like that moment lasted forever. Your cum coated your pelvis, his pelvis, your thighs, his thighs, and the already-soaked bedsheets.

With bated breaths and shaky hands, he pulled off the condom, tied the latex up, wrapped it in a tissue from your bedside, and threw it onto the floor where it landed among your sparsely scattered clothes. 

Armin slumped down on you, wrapping strong arms around your waist in a suffocating, hot embrace. You gladly welcomed his weight. 

It smelled of sex, sweat, and the dwindling remnants of his cologne.

You laid there, catching your breath. 

You did it. He did it. You finished taking his virginity, and he successfully made you cum during the process. 

And everything left you wondering…

Why was that…good? Sex with a virgin. Sex with your best friend. Did you even teach him enough? Because that was definitely a learning experience for you. The post-orgasm clarity hit you now like a slipper to the face, and you couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened. 

Sleepily, you broke the silence, “Good job, Armin. You did amazing. You’re attentive, a fast learner, and just already so good to me. You made me cum twice. For a virgin.” A hearty laugh parted from your throat as you strung your fingers through his mussed hair. “I guess you aren’t one anymore.”

Armin remained silent. Was he already asleep?

In the quiet darkness, your heart started beating fast, even after the sex. Laying here felt domestic, like somebody made this bed for the two of you to snuggle in tonight, like a real couple. 

Armin, face wedged between your sheets and your shoulder, hugged you impossibly tighter when he shifted to look at you. 

“Thank you. I love you, Y/N.”

He breathed those three words with so much adoration in his eyes, gazing at you longingly beneath his thick, long lashes. The blue of his eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting and through the hair obscuring his face. 

“I really do love you,” he continued. “Not because of the sex. But because you’re a good friend. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable.”

Oh my gosh. You really didn’t deserve him. You’d exchanged your fair share of sentimental, platonic “I love you’s” to each other, but this one wrenched your heart like no other. Especially after sex. 

He left you at a loss for words. But sleep tugged at your eyelids and your mind screamed at you to clean up and your post-nut clarity still remained unresolved; you couldn’t think of a reply even if you wanted to. 

Even overwhelmed, your heart called out to him and you mustered up something. 

“I’m grateful to have you as a best friend. I love you,” you gritted out. 

Wrong. So, so wrong. Right now, this conversation was getting too emotional for a strictly physical agreement. But you didn’t lie nevertheless, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. 

Feeling grimy, you wriggle under his hold. “We should clean up. It’s good for women to pee after sex.”

As the final rip of the bandaid, he pecked you on your jaw. “I can’t.” 

Your face twisted in confusion, still clouded by tiredness and the daze of lingering thoughts. “You can’t?”

“I can’t help it,” he suddenly mumbled. 

“Armin, what are you—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt something poking your thigh, stiff and hard. 

Armin groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against the shell of your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

The hands that were once wrapped around your body slowly released their hold and grabbed onto your hips, hard and impatient. Armin started rutting into your thighs, dragging you along with him. 

Your heart stuttered for a moment, in disbelief that he could keep going and that you would have to keep going, but your pussy clenched around nothing at the promise of something more.

“Can’t help it. I’m—I’m hard again.” 

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[mrs-weasley-reid]

SAY DON'T GO

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Sypnosis: Nothing hurts more than the fear of losing you. Word Count: 1600+ WARNING: Angst. mentions of death, blood, gunshot A/N: I wrote this in a haste, literally ten minutes ago, while listening to Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version) by mother Taylor Swift. It's definitely not perfect, but I was definitely in the zone when I wrote it, lol.

A gunshot.

Everything fades into a muffle. You blink once, twice, thrice... A wince connects your brows. As if you're figuring out if the oozing feeling on your abdomen should be causing you pain or ease.

Suddenly, Spencer's running to you. You think he's screaming. You hear nothing. There's only ringing in your ears. A thin, high-pitched ring that pierces through your brain.

You drop on the precinct's carpet floor, caressing your stomach like it's enough to stop yourself from bleeding out. You look at Spencer, "When'd you get here?" You ask, disoriented. You instantly pay attention to his watery eyes. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" You reach to cup his cheek. You are shocked when you see your hand covered in red, smearing the liquid on his skin. Your eyes widen, "Oh, my god?! You're hurt! Spence—" You try to sit up, but a wave of stinging pain makes you fall back in his arms.

"WHERE'S THE MEDIC?!" Spencer's voice echoes in the entire place. He turns to you, unsure if he is even allowed to have you in his arms. He doesn't dwell on it as he holds your hand on his cheek, squeezing it. "Hey, hey! Breathe for me, yeah? Stay with me." He swallows a sob, placing pressure on your abdomen. "Please, stay with me..."

"I'm hurt?" Stupor begins to steal you out of consciousness. You blink. A bright light blinds your vision.

Once you open your eyes, you're back in Spencer's apartment. He's standing across the room while your feet are rooted at the door. He doesn't look at you. No. He's afraid to look at you.

His hands are buried in his pockets. He's wearing a nice suit. Fitted just for him. His tie is a dark shade of purple. You gave him that tie for his birthday last year. It's loose. His hair is a mess. And his face... it's wet.

He's crying.

You're crying.

"I think you should go," Spencer takes a gulp as he stares at the floor. Like it'd kill him if he looked at you.

You inhale deeply, sniffing as you wipe a tear with the back of your hand, "We don't have to do this, Spence. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, we do!" For the first time in what feels like forever, he finally lifts his gaze at you. His hazel eyes are rimmed with red heat, overflowing with tears. He's hurt. He's hurt, too.

"Is it really that horrible to love me?" You sob. You can hear your heart slowly shatter. Pins and needles knock on your chest. You wonder if you're still breathing right. "Am I that ugly—"

"You know that's not true, sweetheart." You hate that the nickname gives you butterflies. How his words, awful and insensitive, still made you attentively listen. How his voice still makes you want to hear more. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

"Then why?!" You felt like a child throwing a tantrum. "Why are you putting a distance between us?" You bite your lower lip to stop it from quivering. "Why is it such a crime to be together?"

Spencer shifts his gaze to somewhere else. He runs a hand through his hair. You notice the coffee stain at the cuff of his sleeve. Then, you see the smudge of red lipstick past the line of his lips. Your red lipstick. He bought that lipstick a few months ago. No reason. Just for the fun of it.

Is it bad that you think he still looks handsome under the sun's setting light? Even when his hair is arrayed in different directions? Even when his face is drenched with his own tears?

He breathes deeply, audibly, "We're in the same line of work. You know better than to think we're going to work. News flash, sweetheart. It won't. It's not worth it." He can't look at you. He's ashamed to look at you.

"Not... worth it?" You blink. You stare at him with disgust, "So— So what? We're nothing, but we fuck? We're nothing, but we flirt? We're nothing, but you love me? Please, explain it to me because I'm having a difficult time understanding the stupid shit of a point you're making."

Spencer gulps for the nth time, "You love me."

"What?" You regret wanting to meet his eyes because now that he's staring at yours with such unfamiliarity, it hurts.

"You love me. You said you love me. I never said anything."

You're definitely not breathing right.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

"Inhale, exhale... Yeah, that's right, sweetheart. Just follow me." Spencer holds your hand tight as the paramedics do their best to stop you from bleeding out. His voice sounds heartbreaking.

His voice...

You blink. Your hearing's back. You do as he says, inhaling and exhaling as he does. You feel lightheaded, like you're floating on a cloud.

Spencer keeps his and your hands intertwined. He follows while the paramedics roll you into the ambulance. "Hang in there, sweetheart. Please, hang in there." His face is a mess. He doesn't stop crying, swallowing his sobs.

You smile into the oxygen mask, blinking. You're on the verge of dying, and yet you find humor in knowing Spencer's tells. "You swallow when you're scared... don't be scared, Spence." You say it in broken words and in an almost soundless voice.

"I'm not," He denies, wiping his tears aggressively. He is. He's scared to the bone.

"The bullet shattered to her chest," The paramedic who inspects your chest claims, looking at her partner with worry.

"W-what?" Spencer stutters, stealing a glimpse down your neck. "No, no, sweetheart. Stay with me. Stay with me." He sees the way you flutter your eyes, fighting to stay conscious, listening to his pleas. And how you suddenly stopped, never opening your eyes back up. "Don't— Don't close your eyes! Sweetheart, please don't go. Please, don't—" He looks up at the sound of your vitals plummeting. He quickly looks back at your face, saying your name like it's a prayer.

The machine flatlines, and the paramedic pushes Spencer aside to perform resuscitation. "Sir, let us do our job." One of them says, two inches deep as she manually restarts your heart.

Spencer shoves himself in the corner of the ambulance. He wraps his arms around him. "Please, don't go..." His voice cracks and transitions into writhing sobs as he watches your body go limp with each surge of electricity that shocks your skin.

Then he thinks of that night.

He thinks of the image of you standing by the door. You don't want to go. He doesn't want you to go.

But you have to... because if you don't, he'll run to you and never let you go. So, he tells you to leave. You protest.

So stubborn. He cries in his head, wishing that you hadn't made things difficult for being so beautiful even when you're crying.

"You love me. You said you love me. I never said anything." His body shakes on the spot. His mouth goes dry. His chest compresses. He lies through his teeth.

Spencer saw the way your face turned into a ghost. He's done it.

He broke you.

He hurt you.

No turning back. No way of fixing it.

"Ah..." You say softly, nodding. "Checks out." You add without a sign of sarcasm. You stare into the air for a minute. You let the silence hover and hunt Spencer for a moment. You let him realize the pain, the stupidity of it all. "I think I should leave..." Your eyes say otherwise.

Please say, "Don't go." Tell me not to leave. Run to me... please.

You wonder if he knows it or chooses to ignore the way you held your tears. If he caught on all your tells. Because you knew he wasn't true. You knew he knew that you could read him like the back of your hand.

"Yeah," Spencer straightens his back, "I think you should."

You purse your lips into a thin line and nod, "Okay," You turn around. You take three seconds to grab the knob, but when the time has run out, you are out in a heartbeat.

"Spencer."

JJ appears in Spencer's vision. "Spencer, are you okay?" Her face was covered with worry as she placed two hands on his shoulders. She exchanges looks with Derek and Aaron.

They were there when it all went down. When the unsub came out of nowhere and started shooting. You were the first shot.

Spencer cranes his neck around. He's in the waiting room. He doesn't remember when or how he got there. All he remembers is the defibrillator jolting your unresponsive body more than once. His eyes widen. He says your name in haste as he stands up, "Where is she? Where— Where..."

Derek holds him back, "She's in surgery, Reid. Did you forget?" He asks, gently pushing Spencer back onto his seat.

"She was dead for three minutes... They couldn't find a pulse for three minutes." Spencer announces at a loss. He looks down at his hand, at the cheap friendship bracelet around his wrist. The one you made in your first year with the team as a last-minute birthday gift. He breaks into a sob, covering his eyes as if to push them back inside his tear ducts.

"So?" Derek catches Spencer's hands off his face, "She's been in surgery for thirty minutes. Her heart started beating again, and it had been for thirty minutes. She's fighting, man. At least fight with her before you wallow like a ninny."

"Morgan," Aaron warns but silently agrees.

You're fighting for your life, so they should, too.

You're not ready to go.

You don't want to go.

Spencer nods and wipes his face. He sniffs and takes a deep breath. He glances at the door to the operating room like he has x-ray vision, "Don't go."

reid masterlist | masterlist

[loui3e]

Knuckle Velvet

And every drop of blood is love I don’t get back’

Old man!Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: A night of cleaning bloody wounds leads to a lovely confession.

A/n: Can you tell I love old man Logan? And Ethel Cain? Lmao. Has been proofread.

Warnings: Some angst with comfort.

Words: 684

Logan had nowhere to go, battered and bloodied he limbed his way up your porch. His bruised knuckles hesitating at your front door. 

“Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” 

Your words ring out in his mind, echoing hopelessly. As he finally bangs on the door, he hopes to god he didn’t take your statement too literally. 

“Christ what on earth.” You grumble out as you open the door, anger bubbling in your gut at the sudden disturbance to your sleep so late at night. You choke on your words though once you see the man before you; eyes widening with distress at the sight, jaw agape.

Logan stands in-front of you, four clean bullet holes in his white tank; now painted red. Blood oozes down his front and onto the wooden planks. 

“Sorry sweetheart, just didn’t know where to go.” Logan grunts out through gritted teeth, his hands clenching and unclench at his sides with each dull throb of pain.

“Oh my god.” You speak as your hand reaches out to fall on his shoulder trying to hold up his burly frame. Your eyes drag down to your soaked porch boards.

“Shit I’m sorry doll.” 

“It’s, fine, it is, they needed re-stained anyway.” You speak nearly incoherently, as your brain works at pace through your next actions. “Quickly inside.”

Logan’s taken aback by your generosity, he wasn’t exactly expecting a warm welcome; you’d probably shun him off your porch but instead you let him lean his weight on you. Hand firmly planted on his chest as you help him inside and onto your couch. 

“Off now.” You command rigidly, making a gesture towards his tank. You sound rough but Logan knows you well enough to know you’re only putting up a front to hide your anxiety; especially as you make off towards the bathroom for supplies whilst biting your nails. 

Rushing back with an arm full of medical supplies, Logan chuckles dryly at you. “Sure you’re not performing surgery on me?” 

“Don’t laugh.” You groan, unimpressed at his humour at this time. 

Logan spreads his legs wider for you so you fit neatly between; able to study the extent of his wounds easier. “Darlin’ don’t frown like that, you’re gonna get wrinkles,” he says trying to ease your mind; swiping a thumb over your brows. 

“You’re hurt though.” 

“I’m fine just needa’ get these bullets out first,” he speaks before standing up promptly; shifting you out of the way with a gentle shove to your hip.

“Logan, wait Logan I gotta check.” You chase after him but are instead greeted with the bathroom door flush with your face. “Damnit.” You whine, slipping down the back of the door until you sat down against it.

Soon the sound of painful groans hit your ears followed with the an unmistakable tink. Jarring up suddenly to your feet as the door swings open. “Now you can check.” 

With a wet cloth you clean blood from his wounds, then with some rubbing alcohol; you wince at each sharp intake of breath Logan makes as his wounds sting. 

As you sit kneel between his legs after finishing the bandaging you lay your head on his thigh with an exhausted sigh. Soon you feel a familiar hand running its fingers through your tousled hair.

“Sorry for worrying you.” Logan speaks earnestly, but you shake your head in response. 

“No don’t be, I’m just glad you came to me.” 

Logan’s shocked but not only your generosity, but your words. A pang settles within his heart at that, you wanted him no matter what condition he turned up in. Blood or cleanliness you’d be waiting with bandages or kisses. 

He runs his knuckles across your cheek, you lean into his gentleness; kissing each of his knuckles with care then his freshly wrapped wounds. As you do so you swear you hear a mumbled; “love you.” It’s hushed by your lips to his. 

You’ll bring him to bed that night and in the morning he’s on your porch with a bucket of stain in one hand and a brush in the other.

[rinhaler]

you don't have to if you don't want to but PLEASE PLEASE HEAR ME OUT!

Angsty and Smutty Stepdad!Nanami x stepdaughter y/n where they have to sneak around with each other while mom is at work. Y/N wants Nanami all to herself but nanami explains that they can't cause he married her mom. Then BOOM shyly reveals that we may or may not have a boyfriend soon right!? Riiight this send Nanami into a panic that leads to some begging, some angst, sparkle of romance BUT some heated sex.

okay so the reveal wasn't particularly shy 😭 thank you for this!! very very fun hehe 💕

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, stepcest, cheating, manipulation, begging, DDLG esque, daddy!kink, jealousy, vaginal sex, choking, dacryphilia, calls your pussy 'she'.

words: 1.3k

Nanami freezes outside of your bedroom door as he hears voices. You’re on the phone, no, a FaceTime call? He knocks on the door, slowly opening it before you say he’s allowed in. You spin around on your swivel chair to look at him.

“I’m a bit busy, daddy.” you speak, coldly, as you look him up and down like you’re sizing him up. You look over at your laptop when you hear your… friend, laughing. “Do you need something?” you ask him.

“I can’t believe you call your dad, ‘daddy’.” your friend continues to laugh, quietly.

It hasn’t escaped Nanami’s notice that your friend just so happens to be male. And he can’t deny the jealousy he feels. You can see the envy oozing from your step-father. You can practically smell it on him. He clenches his fists, though it isn’t malicious. He approaches your laptop and looks at the screen.

“I’m sorry, she’ll have to call you back, she’s grounded.” your father tells the boy as he hangs up the call and closes the lid of the laptop. You rise to your feet in a huff, snatching the laptop away before he can confiscate it. “What part of grounded wasn’t clear? Give me your laptop and your phone, now.”

“No! I didn’t do anything…” you pout, “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what? I have my own electronics, I have nothing to be jealous of.” he tells you, lying with ease. You’re impressed, honestly, unable to believe how seamlessly he managed to fabricate a tale that wasn’t even there. “You can have your stuff back in a week, now—”

“You’re jealous of my boyfriend.”

“Y- boyfriend?!” he yells, a bulging vein forms on his forehead as he looks at you with anger. He’s furious. You’ve never seen him like this before. You can’t quite believe what you’re seeing, he’s always so cool calm and collected. But you’re actually a little scared, right now, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you though… right? “What have I told—”

“Yeah, I know what you’ve told me ‘n I don’t care!” you shout back, standing up from the bed and getting closer to him. “I wanna be with you, daddy… b-but you’re married t—”

“Yes, I’m married to your mother. But that does not mean you can—”

“’m allowed to date and fuck whoever I want! If you don’t want me, I’ll find someone who does.”

You’re silenced as Nanami covers your mouth and pins you against the nearest wall. His breathing is heavy and his whole body shakes. All you can do is stare into his soft brown eyes as both of your chests heave alternately. You aren’t sure what’s happening.

He isn’t capable of hurting you, that’s what you always thought, anyway.

Though his eyes that you thought were brimming with anger spill tears. Your body relaxes and your eyes widen in astonishment. He’s crying? Why? He can’t be that jealous, surely. Was it something you said?

“You really think I don’t want you?” he asks. He lets go of you, freeing your mouth so that you can speak. “I love you, sweetheart. I- It’s just… God, I love you.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said. Listen to what I’m saying now.” he interrupts you. He wraps a hand, softly, around your throat. You feel him squeeze the sides of your neck, and you can’t keep your eyes off him. Every ounce of focus is given to him as you wait for him to speak. “I don’t want you fucking anyone but me. I don’t love your mother, I love you. But I shouldn’t feel that way, so it has to be a secret. Do you understand?”

“B-But why can’t we be t-together…” you cry a little, not really getting why you can’t be with the person you love. Of course your mother will be hurt, but you don’t care. You want to be happy, with Nanami, so what is the problem?

“Because I’ve been your daddy since you were a little girl, yeah? So it will look very bad. And I don’t want to hurt your mother. We can be together, but quietly. You know I love you, yeah? Answer me.”

“I k-know you love m-e…” your breath hitches and hiccups as you keep crying. You hate that things will never be how you truly wish them to be. But what can you do? You can’t say no when it comes to him. You can’t resist him.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you… daddy.”

“And you want me, yes? You want me to love you properly. Tell me how much. Go on. Beg for daddy.” he continues. Tears flow down your face as you realise you’ll always be powerless to him. He’ll always be able to control you and manipulate you into doing as he pleases. You will never be able to date or love or have a normal relationship because you’re too fixated on him. “C’mon, speak up, sweetheart.”

“Please… please daddy. Need you… need you so bad.” you start, sniffling and shaking beneath his touch as he delicately rubs the tears from your cheeks. “Jus’ need you, daddy… n-nobody else. No one can fuck me like daddy does,” you finish, a small gasp escapes you when you feel Nanami grab your thighs and force you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He kisses you against the wall, and apparently you’ve said the right thing. You’ve begged pathetically enough to earn his favour. And it’s humiliating, but you don’t care. Not when you can feel your daddy’s hard-on grinding against your panty-clad crotch.

You’re soaked. But you were already soaked after he pinned you against the wall. Feeling how dominating he is always riles you up. You forget, sometimes, until you get these little stolen moments.

He carries you to your bed and neither of you can bring yourselves to break the kiss as he unbuttons his trousers. You keep humping against him like a needy little bunny desperate to be bred. Neither of you even see the little damp patch you’ve stained onto his trousers.

You mewl, cutely, as he moves your cotton panties into the crease of your thigh.

“I’m going to fuck your little princess cunt, now, baby.” he whispers against your lips, kissing you sweetly again. “Oh, sweetheart… you’re so cute. So needy, yeah? Always feel better when you get this daddy cock.” he smiles, smothering your lips with his own as he pushes his heavy tip into you.

He devours your moans as he splits your pussy open. Your lips swallow him beautifully as the sticky lewdness of your slick folds reverberates through the room.

His thick length slides in and out of you roughly, and you feel like you’re drowning. His hand finds its way to your neck again. He won’t hurt you, you still think. He loves you after all. But you’ve never felt him like this before. His cock bullying itself as deep as it can possibly go and your braincells feel like they’re detaching from each other.

“T-There she is. My girl.” he speaks, his undoing evidently nigh as he begins to struggle to speak as eloquently as usual. “I know what’s best for my little girl. Don’t I?”

“Y-Yes, daddy…” you squeak out through your restricted airways.

“Didn’t have to flirt w-ith other boys to get my attention,” he continues, his cockhead leaking as he feels himself losing the battle against his self control. “T-This is what you’re made for, sweetheart. And your pussy… I won’t neglect you again. Because she needs- she needs daddy’s milk. No one else can do this. Just m- fuuuuuuuuck. Fuck, fuck.” he pants, emptying his balls into you as he continues thrusting deeper and deeper.

You pant, too, pussy spasming around his length as he hits your sweet spot one too many times.

He collapses on top of you and shows no signs of moving. And you both hum in satisfaction. Proud, though a little ashamed, of what just transpired.

You can’t feel too guilty when you have your daddy like this, though.

He’s mostly yours.

You’re all his.

And for these bittersweet moments, nothing else matters.

© 2023 rinhaler

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (30)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of death in childbirth, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He believed he heard her screams and moans from afar. When he turned, he was standing in one of the chambers of Dragonstone, his uncle and his nephews sitting beside him around the table, tense.

All the women were with her now.

"How much longer is this going to take?" He asked impatiently, feeling discomfort and a twinge in his stomach at the thought that his niece had suffered in agony for so many hours, trying to bring his offspring into the world.

It was because of him, he thought with pain.

"It's hard to say. Laena's first birth was also difficult. She bore Baela only in the evening of the same day." Daemon said lowly, fiddling with the wine goblet standing on the table in front of him, of which he took a long, loud sip after a moment.

He pretended not to care.

He was trying to suppress his mind with alcohol.

He swallowed hard, glancing down at his fingers, noticing with horror that blood was oozing from the cuticles around his fingernails.

He rose immediately from his seat, horrified when one of the servants stepped into the chamber.

"− Y-Your Grace − you have a son − but your lady-wife −" She mumbled out with difficulty − only after a moment he saw that her trembling hands were all sticky with blood.

Her blood.

He rushed out of the chamber as if in a trance, not hearing his uncle's call, and walked swiftly into the room from which only a moment ago he had heard her howling, her screams, her cries.

Now someone was crying too, but not her − her mother was clutching her face to her body, high-pitched wails and moans coming from her throat as if someone was skinning her.

He didn't even pay attention to the infant, quivering and sobbing loudly in the arms of one of the servants − all he looked at was her face, the face of his wife, drenched in sweat and pale, her lips slightly parted, her gaze blank and distant, her body numb, lifeless.

"− Rhaenys −" He muttered, coming up to her quickly, hearing only his own ragged breathing, only the loud pounding of his heart in his chest. He climbed onto the bed, his hand touching her cheek.

It was still warm.

"− Rhaenys, look at me − it's all over now, my sweetest −" He breathed out, not listening to Rhaenyra's moans or cries, recognising that she was merely being dramatic, that his niece was simply exhausted and tired.

Her eyes stared somewhere far ahead of her, the traces of tears still clearly visible on her skin.

Was she calling out for him?

Did she beg him to come, terrified?

Why hadn't he heard anything?

"− Rhaenys − look at me −" He mumbled out, feeling like he was choking.

He sobbed in despair, cuddling his face into her soft, fragrant hair, hugging her close as if she were still a child.

She seemed so small to him, so weak.

"− gods, please, not her −"

"− Rhaenys −" He exhaled, pulling himself up to sit down, feeling his heart pounding like mad. He looked around, terrified, seeing only darkness, struggling to recognise the furniture and objects around him.

He was in his chamber, in King's Landing.

Alone.

Where was she?

Was all this, their marriage, her warm body snuggled into his, just a dream?

He groaned with despair at the thought, running his hand over his face − he closed his eye and breathed heavily, trying to calm himself, his whole body quivering, his heart pounding like mad.

He hissed, clutching at his eye where the sapphire had been placed, feeling the sudden, sharp pain in his skull that had accompanied him in his moments of greatest fear and horror.

He had never shared it with anyone.

He knew it meant he was weak.

That he cared too much, that he could no longer control neither his feelings for her nor the things that came with them.

He only calmed down after a while, reminding himself that he had sent her a letter, that he had returned to the Red Keep only a few days ago, and that every night he had spent since then had been the same.

He couldn't get any peace since she wasn't by his side.

Since he had spoken of what had happened with his brother.

"− how could you fly to Dragonstone without my knowledge or consent? −" Aegon growled, both of them sitting alone in his chamber.

His brother-king demanded his explanation as soon as he found out that he had returned to the Red Keep.

"− I had no choice − our grandfather wanted to end things in a different way than we had assumed − I had to get them out of there −" He said lowly, hoping for his support in what he intended to do with Larys Strong.

Aegon did not even look at him at his words, his gaze fixed on the dagger he was playing with in his hand.

"− Aegon −" He said impatiently, and his brother lifted his calm gaze to him from which he felt a tightening in his throat, his heart stopped for a moment.

"− you knew −"

Aegon shrugged his shoulders.

"− what would be left if they did not agree? −" He asked more to himself than to him, running his fingers along the steel blade. He ran his hand over his face and closed his eye for a moment, trying to calm himself.

Fuck.

"− her life would be taken by your order too? −" He hissed angrily − his older brother threw him a quick, warning glance.

"− no − I forbade anyone to touch her − she is yours −" He replied in a firm voice not withstanding the objection.

"− I did what I thought was right to protect my children − they agreed to our terms, so let's rejoice and not stir up pointless arguments −" He said impatiently, his jaw clenched in anger at his words.

"− our grandfather told you that they would have died that night anyway? −"

Aegon furrowed his brow and raised his surprised, uncertain gaze at him, as if wondering if he should believe him. He shifted uneasily in his seat and grunted.

"− where do you get this knowledge from? −"

"− Larys Strong − I want his head −"

"− he is our informer −"

"− he has threatened me and my wife − he has let me know that everything is arranged to end the war, no matter what the price − do what you want with our grandfather, but he is to die − this is my price for concealing the truth from me −" He growled, rising from his seat, circling the chamber as if in amok, feeling that his head was filled with chaos.

Was this how she had felt when he had betrayed her?

When he had concealed it all from her?

"− we need to think this through properly − find a reason to bring him to King's Landing −" He muttered, looking down at his fingers, apparently recognising that he could sacrifice one man to appease his wrath and not lose the greatest of dragons in this war.

"− no − 'tis I who will fly to Harrenhal − the sooner the better −" He said impatiently, folding his hands behind him.

"− there is no need for you to get involved − I will give the order −"

"− I want to do it with my own hands −"

Aegon looked at him for a moment in thought.

"− have you been so madly in love with her all this time? −"

He stopped, looking at him over his shoulder, shocked, feeling a wave of shame surge through his body.

He didn't know what he should answer.

Aegon snorted under his breath, shaking his head.

"− you've always been a poor liar − whenever someone uttered her name you got up from the table and left, as if you did't spend your evenings fucking yourself with your hand thinking of her −" He sneered, crossing his legs, spreading himself comfortably in his chair.

"− am I wrong, little brother? −" He asked softly, cocking his head in curiosity.

He sighed heavily when he was answered by his silence.

"− what did Daemon say? −"

He grunted in relief that he had changed the subject, his heart pounding like mad.

"− he is vigilant − he does not believe me or you − but he will not oppose Rhaenyra − and she loves her daughter −"

Aegon hummed under his breath and nodded thoughtfully.

"− there is nothing more dangerous than the love of a parent for his child −"

Aegon ordered him to stay in King's Landing for a few days to avoid arousing anyone's suspicions before he set off again for Harrenhal, and he agreed to this not willingly. Later that day his mother visited him in his chamber, throwing herself into his arms.

"− I thought I would never see you again −" She muttered, her familiar, pleasant scent of floral oils filling his nostrils.

"− mother −" He replied, placing a hand on her back. Alicent pulled away from him, looking at him with excitement and fear.

"− is it true? − Rheanyra agreed? −" She asked, and he nodded. A loud sigh of relief left her lips, her hand on her heart, a shy, girlish smile on her lips.

"− gods − maybe all is not lost yet −"

He had no peace night or day, thinking only of her and what would happen if she did not bear him a child as well as what might happen if she had to carry his heir under her heart.

The stories that he had heard about his father's first wife, and her grandmother, rattled around in his head, the sight of the white-haired woman with a slit lower abdomen haunting him and not letting him sleep a wink.

He was terrified.

However, he knew that before he set off for Harrenhal he had to face the person he feared most.

His grandfather.

He had managed to persuade Aegon to control him, but he feared that once he was out of the Red Keep, his grandfather would continue his plan behind their backs.

He could not allow that to happen.

He visited him on the morning before his journey to Harrenhal. Already dressed in his riding attire, he stood before him − his grandfather cast him a lazy, surprised look from above the book he had just been looking through.

"− Aemond − what brings my grandson here? − how was your visit to Dragonstone? −" He asked softly, as he always did when he was playing with another person, pretending that there was no subtext in his words.

He hated him for doing it, forever mocking him and Aegon.

He only showed concern for Helaena, because he couldn't use her any more than he already did.

"− I've been thinking a lot lately, grandfather − about my mother −" He began lowly, standing upright before him with his hands folded behind his back, knowing exactly what he wanted to say to him.

Otto raised his eyebrows, intrigued, spreading himself comfortably in his chair, crossing his legs.

"− indeed? −" He asked teasingly, as if he were speaking to a small, unaware child.

He decided not to react.

"− marriage has opened my eyes to many things that did not previously occupy my head − a husband's duties to his wife and what they mean were as distant to me as Essos until I experienced them myself −" He hummed, turning his head away, looking into the distance, at the sea reaching the horizon stretching beyond the great bay.

"− I cannot imagine a woman more helpless and vulnerable than when she lies beneath her husband, at his mercy − my wife then looks at me with trust and warmth, her body welcomes me with ease − but tell me, grandfather − how old was my mother when you ordered her to seduce my father? −" He asked coolly, looking at him − his grandfather furrowed his brow, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"− she was of an age suitable for marriage −" He replied indifferently. "− are you now going to lecture me on the raising of my children? − my decisions concerning her future? − she became a Queen −"

He snorted at his words, his lips parted in a mocking smile, revealing his teeth.

"− did you ever imagine it? − my old father with big, rotting wounds, lying on top of your daughter, and my mother? − I imagined that such a man would try to take my wife − I would kill him, even if he were her rightful husband −" He hissed, and Otto laughed, as if he had never heard a greater foolishness.

"− indeed? − do you think you understand how it is? − as far as I know, you and your beloved wife have not yet conceived your offspring − who knows if you will ever succeed − the will of the gods is impenetrable −" He said with a sneer, from which he felt his blood begin to boil in his veins, his hands involuntarily clenched into fists.

"− what did it feel like to sit on the Iron Throne while my father babbled stupefied by poppy milk? − was it in those moments that you felt it was worth it? − what did you truly sacrifice? −" He asked, answering him with a mocking sneer. His grandfather rose from his seat, furious, clearly trying to control himself.

"− everything −"

He laughed at his words, shaking his head.

"− no, grandfather − WE have sacrificed everything for you − my mother, my brother-king, Helaena and me − but if you think I will sacrifice my wife for you, you are sorely mistaken − one more misstep like this, one more move behind my back and you will go back to where you came from −"

"− how dare you threaten me − you owe me everything −"

"− no − YOU owe us everything − without us you are nothing, my Hand of the King −" He hissed, turning away tense, leaving his chamber with a slam of the door.

What could he do to him?

Kill him?

Deprive his brother of his dragon rider?

He prayed his words would cause him to refrain from further action, but he feared his grandfather would do something they would all regret in fear of losing power.

Even if a part of him truly protected his family, the other part always wanted the crown.

Always.

He had destroyed his mother by giving her to an old, dying man who called her by his dead wife's name, humiliating her over and over again.

He watched her endure her fate for years with humility, believing that the gods would one day reward her for her patience and sacrifice, for her devotion and care, the heavens, however, never answered her prayers.

As she locked all her desires deep within her heart, Aegon let them out completely, allowing them to cloud his vision for years.

He could not decide if what their grandfather had condemned them all to was dictated by care, or merely his unquenchable thirst for power.

He saw hope, however, in the fact that where Daemon and Otto refused to step down, Rhaenyra and Aegon were showing signs of common sense. Although there was much doubt in him, he believed that there was a way forward that did not lead to the complete destruction of their lineage.

He set off for Harrenhal at the head of a small troop of soldiers whose mission was to capture Larys' spies in Harrenhal and the Eyrie.

He wished to deal with Lord Strong personally.

To his surprise and frustration, he found the fortress deserted and surrendered − Lord Strong had fled, hiding somewhere, taking several servants and all the gold with him.

He felt like a fool standing in the empty stronghold looking at the terrified figures of the lord's distant relatives, his servants, farmers and landlords, evidently fearing to face his wrath.

Something else, however, caught his attention.

"Where is Alys Rivers?"

"In the dungeons, Your Grace." Declared one of the men, without raising his eyes at him.

"Take me to her."

He walked down into the underground of the fortress, accompanied by his guards, the clang of their steel armour and weapons all around them. They pointed their torches at one of the cells, and only after a moment did he recognise in the woman lying on the stone ground the person who had kept him awake for so many nights.

That fucking prophecy of hers.

"Wake up, woman." He commanded coldly, stepping closer to the steel bars. Indeed, he saw in the darkness the green of her eyes when she suddenly lifted her eyelids, her face and hands all bruised.

He had the impression that she had lost weight − she was pale, her eyes all red, her hands were trembling. She rose slowly, looking at him curiously, and grinned in a way that sent a shiver through him.

"Leave us alone." He said to his guards, and they nodded and obediently went back upstairs.

He only spoke to her when he was sure they could not hear him.

"Why did you lie? I could have your head for this." He hissed, his hands clenched into fists, his heart pounding like mad.

He needed to hear it from her.

The woman laughed weakly at his words, shaking her head with amusement.

"If there were no capacity for treachery in you, my words would not frighten you, Your Grace. But it wouldn't be the first time you've stabbed her in the back, would it?" She sneered, making his jaw clench tightly in rage.

Will you stab a dagger into my heart?

He was embarrassed and bitter that he didn't know what to answer.

She played him like a little child, making a fool of him.

"Why?" He growled feeling that he was red with embarrassment.

Alys Rivers shrugged her shoulders.

"My brother reckoned that after what was going to happen in the Eyrie she would try to take her own life again. I don't consider myself a good person, but I'm not heartless. I wanted you to be horrified by my words and get her as far away from here as possible."

"How dare you manipulate me and my wife."

"I didn't manipulate her. There was no need for that. You. Your pride wouldn't allow you to listen to the advice of a bastard woman, on top of the Strong line. A witch's prophecy that could give birth to your bastard child would be a different matter. Wouldn't it?" She asked, cocking her head curiously, her luscious green eyes shining uneasily in the darkness making him feel a cold sweat run down his neck.

He had never been so ashamed before, his stomach and throat squeezed so tightly that he had trouble breathing.

"Whose fucking side are you on, you insolent whore?" He hissed through clenched teeth, filled with humiliation and hatred, thinking that he would most like to tear her apart.

Her grin full of amusement made him breathless with rage.

"I am on my side. But my cold heart supports your wife. She has broken deep into it and refuses to leave it. I'm certain you understand me. Such a sweet girl."

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" He shouted low, his voice echoing powerfully around them.

Only after a moment did he realise he was panting heavily, his heart pounding like mad.

How could he possibly feel jealousy now?

He turned on his heel, recognising that she could have died of hunger and thirst in there, that he didn't care that Larys had probably locked her in there because she had warned his wife.

He couldn't bear that she, a stranger, had done something for her that he couldn't.

She had sacrificed herself for her.

That night he did not sleep a wink; he waited to hear from his wife and from his commanders whether they had found Lord Strong yet.

It seemed to him that every time he tried to do something right, everything fell apart in his hands.

He didn't know why, but it made him want to cry at the thought.

It was only in the morning that he was relieved − one of the servants brought him a message from Dragonstone, which he opened as soon as he was alone in his chamber.

I am alive, my husband, and I am in good health. Do not fret, I know I am safe here. I ask you, whatever you intend to do, not to take the life of Alys Rivers. I am owed a debt to her and her death is not my desire. Return to Dragonstone as soon as you can. Rhaenys

He breathed a sigh of relief as he read her words again and again, feeling that warmth was beaming from them, that her anger at him had already fled slowly. He ran his finger over the letters her hand had written thinking about her, about how much he needed her now, how lonely he felt.

Whether he wanted to or not, not wanting to cause another argument between them, he ordered that Alys Rivers be locked in her chamber and that food be served to her.

He did not want to see her, but wished to respect his wife's wishes.

He wrote back to her message right away, wishing it to reach Dragonstone as soon as possible.

I reached Harrenhal however, unfortunately, I found the fortress empty. Lord Strong escaped with several spies − we are still searching for them. In accordance with your will, I have spared Alys Rivers' life and locked her in her chamber. I cannot predict when I will be able to return to Dragonstone. I ask your forgiveness for not fulfilling my duty as your husband and not being by your side. Aemond

He ordered his letter to be sent immediately and waited, spending days pondering and discussing with his soldiers, searching the forests and strongholds of nearby lords, trying to find the man who in his eyes was a lousy rat.

He suspected his grandfather had managed to warn him, and felt furious that they had played him like a child.

Never before in his life had he wanted to kill another human being so badly.

Not even Luke.

However, one morning he was awakened by something that sent him into a state of terror − he pulled himself up on his bed when he heard the roar of dragons in the distance, the sweeping flap of their wings as they flew over the fortress like a great shadow.

He rose quickly, walking over to the window and laughed under his breath, involuntarily smiling with wonderful, overpowering relief as he saw the slender beast with silver-blue scales shimmering in the sunlight land next to the fortress.

As soon as he saw that the figure of the dragon rider had slipped off its back he turned, put his boots on his feet and walked out of his chamber disregarding his inadequate attire, linen shirt and breeches, running quickly down the stairs to meet her.

His wife.

[pennylanewrites]

[all for you] levi ackerman x f!reader

part 2 to used to be my girl

cw + what to expect: angst, cheating, near-death experience, slight gore, erwin shows his true colours, erwin’s a piece of shit in this actually, unprotected sex, flat-doggy position, light anal play, creampie

a/n: this part isn’t as smut revolved as the last one sorry about that i’m just sad and wanted to make everyone else sad too

you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t go near levi ever again, after the night of the gala. you couldn’t even look erwin in the eyes; not that he noticed. he never did.

“stop teasing me,” you groaned, flipping your head back to look at him from behind your shoulder. he only grinned at you.

he had your cheeks spread open, popping the head of his cock in your pussy just to pull out again. he was driving you crazy.

“why’d you take so long to come back?” his voice came out whiny and you could die right then and there. “dear husband didn’t let you leave your room?”

“stop it.” you hid your head in the pillow. “i hate you.”

levi licked his thumb and popped it in your back hole, making you arch your back and moan softly as he thrusted into you. the double stimulation had you in a chokehold. you remember the first time he tried that on you like it was yesterday. you still had the same reaction.

levi leaned on your back as he pushed his cock deeper, and searched for your hand on the headboard. you weren’t wearing your ring, he noticed, and squeezed your hand tight.

“missed you.” you admitted, turning your head to the side to look up at him. a particularly hard thrust was his way of saying, missed you too.

he kept a fast pace, and you were coming before you knew it, squeezing him tight as you came down from the high. levi slipped his hands between your body and the mattress, groping your breasts, teasing your nipples. you moaned his name in pleasure, feeling him twitch inside of you.

he slid his hand down, playing with your clit as he thrusted right into your g-spot. he could feel you cream around his cock, his fingers were sticky with your wetness. god, you were so hot.

“levi, i’m coming, i’m coming, i love you, fuck!” his pace faltered, and he pulled out. he flipped you on your back before you could protest, and slid back into your slit. your walls fluttered around him and precum mixed with your juices made a wet patch on the sheet.

“i’ll fill you up, fuck, can-can i?” you had never seen him that desperate. you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him down for a sloppy kiss.

“please.” you whispered into his mouth.

“i love you too.” he leaned down to whisper in your ear as warm ropes of cum filled your cunt, “fuck.” he pulled out and watched as his cum slowly oozed out.

he looked up at you with a grin and placed both your legs over his shoulder, so your thighs were shut. he licked his index and middle finger and slowly entered your pussy, pushing all of his cum back into you.

he was so hot. when did he learn to do that?

“i want you full of my seed, always.” he leaned down to kiss you before falling next to you on the bed.

you were sore, you were full, you were sweaty. but it felt so good, even as you wobbled to the bathroom as to not make a mess.

“don’t leave.” levi’s voice was shaky. after you finished cleaning yourself up, you came out with a damp towel. you wiped his sweaty forehead, then his neck and his torso. he looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip barely sticking out.

you got under the blanket and threw your arm over his stomach. he wrapped his own around your shoulders and you rested your head against his chest.

“i’m so scared for tomorrow.” you admitted. you had a bad feeling about this expedition ever since erwin announced it a month ago.

“miche and erwin would have come back already if it was dangerous.” levi didn’t just say that to calm you down. he was right. erwin, miche and two squads were camping out the night before to scout the location.

you sighed and wiped away a stray, frustrated tear. levi noticed you were crying. he knew it wasn’t just about the expedition. the past two months had been hard on you. guilt about levi was eating you from the inside out, but you also couldn’t help feel…betrayed that erwin couldn’t spend a single moment with you, after making you his fiancée. you were slowly breaking.

levi wrapped his other arm around you to place you on top of him. gray eyes looked up in search for yours, and you’re fucking smiling. you look so pretty, he thought.

“promise me something.”

“anything.”

“if we both come back alive, leave him.”

he was being selfish. he had no right being selfish in this situation.

“okay.” you smiled softly and kissed his beautifully bruised lips. it was all going to be okay.

it was going so well, just like erwin had planned. one abnormal titan had been captured for research and you were in search for another one. hange was way too picky. ‘this one is too short!’ ‘this one is not abnormal enough, miche!’ ‘ew, that one is even uglier than the rest.’

“hange, just fucking pick one! we can’t be here for long!” they were driving everyone crazy, and truly, you were getting tired. levi grabbed hange’s hair and pulled her in, whispering something in their ear. hange pulled back with an empty smile.

“okay. let’s…let’s get that one.” they pointed at the titan coming your way. oh, you had him. it had been way too long without an expedition and the adrenaline was kicking hard. you used your gear to get higher ground on top of a tree and waited to pounce.

snap.

you could feel your ribs getting crushed one by one, but you couldn’t scream. you couldn’t move.

crunch.

was that your leg? did the fucking titan just bite your leg? oh god, you’re going to die.

“where the fuck did that come from?”

“get the nape!”

you could hear levi faintly, he was saying that everything will be fine. you got this, baby, you’re okay.

and you were on the ground. a loud thud indicated that the titan that captured you was dead.

your leg was manged. blood turned the green grass red and you felt so dizzy. i’ll just lie down.

“no, no!” levi slapped your face. hard. you were awake, yeah, you felt…nice.

“everyone retrieve! this is your commander’s order!” erwin roared and you could hear horses running in the distance, edm gears swooshing over you.

“carry her with your gear.” you could faintly see levi and erwin looming over you. hange was bandaging what could be saved of your leg. someone was taking your shirt off to bandage your ribs.

“she’ll keep us behind. hange, stop. there’s no time to bandage her!”

“are you fucking serious? she’s going to die.”

“we’ll send a rescue team when we get back.”

“she’s going to die.” levi repeated.

erwin kneeled before you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“you were an incredible soldier, an immense help to the survey corps.” he patted your back. “i’m relieving you of your duty.”

he’s not serious. he’s joking. right?

you were dozing off on hange’s shoulder. you had no idea what they were saying to you. you just wanted to sleep.

“i’m going to fucking kill you.” levi punched erwin right between the eyes. miche tried holding him back, because levi would actually kill him. “that’s your fucking fiancée. and you’re going to leave her for dead? we can carry her back, erwin!”

“erwin, levi’s right. we can’t leave y/n here.” hange was pouring water on your face and in your mouth, but you couldn’t swallow. you couldn’t even breathe.

“if any of you try carry her, you’ll be eaten. you are all to leave now. this is an order.” you heard edm gear over your head, indicating that erwin was gone.

levi was crying. god, you could hear him sobbing, and you couldn’t move. couldn’t hold him, tell him you were okay.

“i can’t leave her here, hange!” you could spot hange hugging levi from the corner of your eye, helping him up on his feet.

“you won’t. fuck erwin and his dumb dedication of the heart. you take her, i’ll let the nurses know.” hange and miche left. you and levi were all alone in a forest filled with titans.

you brought your hand out, searching for levi. you felt his shoulder, his neck, his face. you stopped there.

“i’m so sorry.” you coughed out. levi was horrified when blood came out of your mouth.

“shh. just don’t fall asleep.”

everything else was a blur. you could remember nurses over you, hange fighting with them, levi holding your hand. and erwin. erwin taking your hand in his and placing that damned ring on your finger.

“levi?” you tried sitting up, but a piercing pain in your sides kept you lying down. it was dark, but you could smell him. you could feel him next to you.

“don’t move. i’ll get the nurse.” you were asleep again when levi and the nurse came back. a doctor was right behind them, your chart in his hands.

“you gave us a good scare, miss l/n.” the doctor took your temperature before taking your bandages off to inspect your injuries. “your ribs seem fine, except for some light bruising. your leg, however…”

you looked down at your leg. it looked…ugly. there was a big red mark, partially healed, and you could make out sunken marks from the titan’s teeth on your thigh. you tried moving it. horrified, you realised you couldn’t.

“just give it to me straight.”

“it will take more than a year for you to get feeling back in all of your leg, but with the right therapy…we can make it work.” the doctor side-eyed levi almost terrified. you could only imagine the things he said and did while you were unconscious.

“and if it doesn’t, you know, work?”

“it’s up to you if we cut it off or keep it. most patients decide to keep it, but in my opinion, it’s just dead weight.” some tears escaped your eyes, but you wiped them off quickly.

“thank you, doctor. can we get her something to eat and drink?”

“only liquids for a few weeks. i’ll bring soup.” the nurse rushed off with the doctor hot on her heels.

levi rushed to the chair by your side. you noticed a blanket, five books, two empty cups of tea.

“how long-”

“three months. you were in and out of a coma for most of the time, but the past week you were…you looked…”

“i’m alive.” you reminded him, and the scared look on his face faded away. he helped you drink some water, carefully lifting the glass for you to take small sips.

your left hand felt heavy. you looked down and your heart dropped. you were not wearing this the day of the expedition, that much you remember.

“where is he?” you took the ring off and rolled it around your palm.

“it’s 2 in the morning, y/n. you can talk to him tomorrow.”

“i want to talk now. get him for me, please?”

levi didn’t have to take any more steps, because as soon as he opened the door to the infirmary, erwin barged in. the ravenette silently stepped out, giving you some much needed privacy.

“good, you’re awake. the doctor said it would take you more than a year to walk again.” erwin stood above you. you could kill him right then and there.

“yeah.”

“so, i’m officially relieving you of your duty. you’re free to leave the survey corps whenever you are able to.”

“what the fuck? i’m not leaving.”

“you’re injured, practically handicapped.”

“i’ll do office work.”

“l/n, i gave an order.”

“you piece of shit. you only left me there because you wanted to get rid of me.” erwin facepalmed.

“you’re tired, we can talk-”

“shut up and listen. i was very patient with you, but you are such an emotionless piece of garbage. how does it feel to live such an empty life, huh erwin? how does it feel that your fiancée had to run behind your back to another man because you couldn’t even kiss her?” erwin grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, until you were face to face. you winced at the sudden pull, but you didn’t let the tears fall this time.

“my fiancée is nothing but a whore. you don’t think i knew that when i asked you to marry me? the higher ups said it would do good to the corps’ image if i got a wife. so i chose the easiest one.”

“take this.” you threw the ring in his face and shoved him off you. “you’re giving me an office job until i get back on my feet, or i’ll tell everyone important that erwin smith likes it up the ass.” you grinned when erwin’s face turned red. he stomped out of the room, and you could hear him talk with levi.

you were finally letting all those tears out. you were crying because of erwin, and then you were sobbing because your ribs hurt. and then because your leg looked disgusting and you couldn’t walk, most likely ever.

but levi was coming to you again, furious. he stopped in his tracks when you stared at him with those glossy, red-shot eyes.

“what happened?” you scooted over so he could sit next to you on the twin mattress. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, the other fixing your mess of hair.

“he’s a piece of shit, levi. he wants to kick me out. where am i going to go?”

“he won’t kick you out.”

“i have nothing outside of here, levi, you know this. this is all i know.” you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

“you’re not leaving. and if you do, i’m coming with you. and so is hange, miche, moblit.”

“what?”

“everyone gave a letter of resignation to erwin, in case he kicked you out.”

“did you threaten them? be honest.” you chuckled.

“just moblit.” he was laughing too. you suddenly noticed his face.

he looked at least 15 pounds lighter; the bags under his eyes were huge, and his cheeks hollow. how long had it been since he had eaten, taken a bath, slept in a bed? you were getting emotional again.

“can you sleep with me? in the bed?”

“we won’t fit. you need the space.”

“levi, please.” you weren’t tired at all. you were basically sleeping for three months. but levi was, he was exhausted. and you couldn’t stand seeing him like that for another second.

“okay.”

okay. everything was okay, at least for a night, at least when levi held you tight and you could hear his heartbeat align with yours. everything was okay because you were staring at the ceiling and levi was snoring softly in your ear.

taglist: @keigoswifee @vallian-lime @moniic444 @arij3lly @nanamochii @denypipa @moonmalice @leviswheelchair1 @sinistersnakey1427 @crazychaoticizzy @mikakayyyy @yegrnn @leviackermanswife17 @kingfleury

[tarjapearce]

I wonder what mama would be like when she was pregnant with benji? Was she more active?? Anyways, have a good day/night!

💗💗💗

Benjamin's Pregnancy

Suggestive, fluff and little angst. No proofread ~ c:

After the little stunt in the lookout spot and the police officers calling out your hornytis, you returned home.

But that only had you climbing Miguel like a tree as soon as he closed the door behind you. Not that he complained in the slightest.

"W-Wait" He was mumbling through kisses as you struggled to get his damned shirt out. Hormones running in a brazen flurry all over your body. A single purpose engraved in your grey matter. Make a baby.

"Te juro que si no me haces un bebé-" (I swear that if you don't make me a baby right now)

Miguel only carried your hormone crazed body over his shoulder and gave a low whistle.

"Espérate tantito, mi reina."(Wait a minute).

He tittered as his ears turned pink, like his cheeks, "Let me get the water first."

Cause in truth, you wouldn't give him a rest. Not until your body knew that it was enough. It both amazed yet low key terrified him. He'd awake sore and stiff, spent and completely drained while the overall glow oozed from every pore of your body. Both sex's drive were high, but when ovulating, he had to acknowledge your stamina undoubtedly outmatched him. But the goofy and spent smile you'd awake with later was the perfect reward.

With a roll of his shoulders and a water pitcher on hand and some glasses, he closed the master bedroom's door and begun his work.

----

Your grip only tightened on his waist as tears flowed down your cheeks. He showered your face in soft kisses and loving praises upon watching the positive outcome in the pregnancy test.

"We're having a baby!"

God, he loved the excitement in your voice, the way your tears were out of joy, and the fact you were gonna make him a father, again. It was impossible to not feel the same amount of excitement you were experiencing.

His big hands wiped your eyes and cupped your cheeks while kissing your forehead.

"Can't wait to tell Gabi. She'll be over the moon!"

Now that the first step on his husband duty was completed, the second was just starting. Spoiling you until you were ready to pop his child.

To your surprise MJ gave her own news on the girl's chat group. It was a good distraction for a freshly broken hearted Jessica. A celebration ensued.

Peter was asking Miguel for guidance as you gushed with MJ the future changes her body would take.

Miguel's lips turned into a fond smile upon watching you. Your married ring fit perfectly in your hand, and shone brighter, like your smile whenever you rubbed your belly.

Never once the doubt of you being a bad mother crossed his mind, despite your inexperience and both being young, you had done a pretty good job with Gabriella. And this new stage in your lives would only polish some skills that needed a bit more refining.

----

His heart nearly stopped when the doctor said it was a boy. So far, as long as his kid was healthy, the rest was just a bonus. But now that he'd have a boy it both worried and excited him.

It worried him cause he had no paternal figure to grow with, but like you had told him once.

"You're not your father. You're way much better than him. Look at the wonderful child you've raised, without his help. Be proud of yourself, Mi amor."

He adored your reassurance, and now he'd teach his baby boy everything he had to learn on his own. He'd be a good father.

----

The tidal craving waves made you scourge the fridge at random times thorough the night.

The first crave was simple, jalapeños smeared in peanut butter. You didn't know how, but the flavor was way too good for you to just eat one.

Miguel would find you guzzling his own can of jalapeños while scooping up a spoonful of peanut butter.

"You'll get sick if you eat that much spiciness"

"No, Miguel, wait!"

"Uh-uh. You'll get cramps and-"

Oh shit.

Your eyes turned glossy as he placed the can above the fridge. A spot you certainly didn't reach.

Shit.

"You're so mean."

A hiccup echoed between you two, followed by a sniff.

"Mi reina" His tinge amazed and full of disbelief, "I don't want you to get an upset belly, that's all."

"But I am hungry! They're not even that spicy!"

You sobbed and half yelled. Miguel could only sigh and take the can back

"Here."

"I don't want it anymore."

You took another spoonful of the butter and walked back to your room.

Great.

He rubbed his face in defeat. Now he felt like an idiot for not giving you the canned spicy goods. And definitely that night you didn't cuddle him.

Hormones were surely making a mess out of your emotions, and it took him a bit to adapt at the quickening pace they often changed. Exercise and long walks helped you to keep relaxed and active.

The next day you were crying while apologizing, only for him to hold you and offer you a couple of jalapeños in return. He even tried the odd mix with you to try and understand why you loved that specific combo. Neither good, neither bad, like something he tried before. But glad you were no longer at odds with him.

But soon they stopped being your obsession, instead strawberries and tuna came up. And just like Gabi, you'd wake him up in the middle of the night at the devil's hours to get him to fetch you strawberries cause you had ran out of them. Or called him when he was a few blocks away from your home to let him know and God forbid if he returned with empty hands.

The dangerous months had been long gone, and seeing your baby bump growing with each passing day, made his phone to be filled with a daily picture of you, holding it. Gabi occasionally appearing it them with a goofy grin.

One particular rough day at work, had his energies and emotional reserves drained. But changed immediately when he saw you laughing as Gabi painted over your belly.

"Papa! The baby is kicking!!"

Gabriella gasped and pulled him to place his hand over the clean parts devoid of paint in your belly to feel his baby boy kick.

"Look at that." Miguel huffed in child like wonder as he felt every powerful little kick. He then kissed your belly and your forehead with new energies.

You and Gabi were the reason he'd wake up and work. You'd help him with paperwork at home whenever he needed it.

----

Hormones kicked in harder in the last trimester, everything was a trigger for tears to fall down.

You couldn't reach your toes? You'd cry. The cream cheese was too perfect for digging a spoon in it? You'd cry. Gabriella existing around you and being a happy kid? You'd definitely cry. And if Miguel couldn't find his sock in the washing machine, you'd cry harder.

It was low key funny for him, even had some compilations of you crying over the littlest things in his phone. He'd watch them over and over whenever stress was rampant on his office.

But also, would stare both in awe and hungry when he saw your body bouncing ontop of an exercise ball.

"It brings back memories." He muttered while your cheeks flushed. It was the exact way you rode him while making your baby boy.

When hormones hit between your legs, you wouldn't let him go until he came out of the room, drenched in sweat and breathless. That's where he discovered his lactation kink.

But all horny and sexual thoughts were sapped out his body when he saw you curled in bed, crying and wiping your eyes with tissues. A couple of them used and gathered before you.

"'Tas bien?" (You alright?)

Another muffled sob.

This wasn't the usual hormone craze that made you cry over dappy things, but true and unadulterated sadness. His brows creased as he sat before you.

"Wanna share what's wrong?"

"I feel so useless, Miguel."

"Useless?"

You nodded while sobbing a couple of fresh tears and covered your face with your hands, ashamed.

"I can't even put my shoes on my own. And-" A sniffle, "I feel like I'm leaving all the load to you. It's not fair."

Even in your condition, you still worried about him and his stress. It humbled him.

"Mi reina." With a gentle, yet firm voice he sat next to you and wiped your eyes with utmost care, "You're growing my child. Do you know how important that is?"

You hiccuped and shook your head.

"I wanna do more. Help you around. Not just being a housewife that leeches off-"

"No, no. Stop. Stop." the last word said with a warning tone.

How could you think of yourself such way?

"Pinguinita, mi amor, look." His shoulders slumped with a deep sigh, "For how long have we been together? Ten, twelve years now?"

You refused to look his way, but his hands gently pulled your chin towards him. Makin your gaze meet his.

"In all those years, I've worked for us cause I wanted to. And I don't want you to work because you already do more than enough here."

His lips were warm, conveying all his love in another kiss.

"You're growing my child, Mi reina. Pregnancies are hard. And look at you, doing your best. Cause that's all I could ask from you."

He cradled your shoulders and kissed the side of your head with a gentle smile.

"You've taught me how to be a good parent, even now, you are teaching me things I didn't believe myself capable of doing. I'm a better man thanks to you."

His hands rubbed your lower back in soothing yet shapeless patterns.

"And now, I'll be an even better father. All thanks to you."

His words were like a soothing balm from your doubtful and insecure heart.

"You'd still love me if I was another ten pounds heavier, right?"

"The question is offensive in itself. But yes, I would. Come here."

You basked in his affection, all you could do was let him love and pamper you.

The footrubs and backrubs were a staple on your pregnancy, like the hammock in the porch. The cotton nightgown he gave you while pregnant with Gabi had been such a wonderful gift that came in handy when the last trimester's hot flashes appeared.

You'd sit in the tub with him, Miguel rubbed and caressed your shoulders, eased the tenderness in your breasts and helped with the sore points in your. lower back.

"What about Miguel Junior?"

He snorted while lathering your back in the lavender scented shower gel.

"No. I don't want a traditional name for my boy."

"Me neither, I mean, Max doesn't sound bad-"

"That's a dog's name, mi amor"

Your laugh was like music to his ears. He rinsed off your back with the tepid temperature water.

"Short for Maximilian."

"Junior doesn't sound that bad now that I think-"

"Wait! I know! I know. Benjamin."

"Benjamin" He tried as the name rolled off his tongue, "I like it."

He kissed your neck. Fresh lavender scent etched to your skin.

"Benjamin it is."

-----

Little Benjamin "Benji" O'Hara was born at 3 pm. Nearly putting you under a c section. Miguel had been there, cheering you on as soon as complications arrived. But thanks to yours and the doctor's efforts, his baby boy wailed healthily as soon as he came out of your womb and the touch of the nurses alarmed him. They weren't you. Benjamin needed his mama.

Miguel showered you in kisses and praises while the nurses cleansed him and dressed him up with the clothes you had provided them.

And finally, you could hold your baby boy in your arms, immediately feeding him and silencing his acute cries.

"Míralo nomas. Mi campeón. No parece que casi lo hicimos en el auto." (Look at him, my champ. He doesn't look like we almost made him in the car)

Miguel fixed the tiny hat ontop of his head, some lovely and dark chocolates curls twisted ontop and around his forehead as you tittered, exhausted.

" Stop, oh my god."

"He's definitely have your curls."

Gabi was allowed to enter a bit later and her lips pursed

"I wanted a sister."

"I know, Solecito. But we did our best"

"Still... I was prettier, right?"

Jesus. Like Father, like daughter.

"Of course you were, Gabibi."

Miguel was ready to start his lessons as a father. With a baby boy on hands, he'd be the dad he never had.

[k0yaz]

that was all that mattered.

Pairings: furina x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, angst—but comfort yay :3, hanahaki disease, graphic descriptions of coughing up blood, GIRLS LOVING GIRLS OH MY GOD???? Not proofread.

A/N: FURINA MY POOKIE WOOKIE CUPCAKE RECIPE WITH RAINBOW SPRINKES ON TOP WHY HAVE I NEVER WRITTEN FOR HER I LOVE FURINA SO MUCH AHAHSHSHDGGDGHSHSHSKWOEI 🕯️

She never wanted to see that sight again.

Furina paced back and forth, the quiet snaps of her shoes with each step she took being the only sound echoing through the empty corridor. She only moved in circles before the large door separating her from your room in which you were recovering, her thoughts clouded with unrest and anxiety regarding your current condition. Closing her eyes, Furina’s back pressed against the wall, slumping down slightly with a shaky sigh as her head tilted back to try and regain some sense of clarity.

It was horrifying. The grotesque sight of bloodstained flower petals cornering your lip whenever a series guttural screams were heard from your room was absolutely mortifying to lay eyes upon, the silk white sheets splattered an oozing crimson. Vision all blurred, your upper body would rock from side to side even while sitting down to keep your balance, your hand cupped below your chin to prevent the blood from spilling any further—yet your efforts were futile once you collapsed back onto the mattress in exhaustion.

The sight of you lying there, blood pooled below your outstretched, frail body wrenched Furina’s chest with sorrow. All she could do was sit there in silence, unable to do anything while you suffered. It tormented her day and night, images of your aching frame clasping a hand over your mouth and being racked by fervent coughs. All she would hear was a string of violent coughing fits, and you trying to desperately stop, often by holding your own breath. However, it would be in vain as they rasped through your throat and spattered stains of blood onto the blanket pulled over your lap.

Yet the worst thing of all, was the revelation that the source of your excruciating suffering was Furina herself. She couldn’t help but bite back a sob once she strolled past your door, overhearing you muttering about how you felt about her to Neuvillette, voice pained as you choked out how she wouldn’t feel the same way. Upon hearing that conversation, Furina only froze in place for a couple moments, before lowering her hat to shield her glassy eyes, and getting herself far away from your room. The moment she was alone, the former hydro archon wept quietly to herself at the revelation, believing she was the one who put you through this hellish pain.

However, she decided to atone on one fateful day, when the sunlight poured in through the parted curtains through the window, and livened the sickly hue of your skin. Your eyelids remained shut, yet you still stirred from the light intruding your eyes, feeling like they were burning into your skull. Awoken by a faint knock, you sat up expectantly as your bleary vision shifted to the woman before you. You attempted to swipe your thumb across the corners of your lips, frantically trying to scratch off the dried blood soiling your face as soon as you recognized Furina.

The second she confessed, every fuzzy sense of yours suddenly shone with a sense of clarity, the world seemingly stopping its rotation for the two of you in that moment. The flowering plant embedded in your lungs felt as if it paused its growth as your brain registered the words “I love you” out loud. All of a sudden, your shoulders lowered themselves in relaxation, chest suddenly feeling lighter as you were able to sit upright to embrace Furina in your arms. You weren’t even close to completely healed, yet the simple contentment of your love being requited ceased the searing pain eating away at your body.

“Lady Furina, you can come in now.”

Furina simply nodded, pushing her way into your room slowly as to not disturb your rest. She breathed out a relieved sigh, seeing your head laid onto the soft pillows as the freshly washed blankets enveloped your body. This time when she came to see you, the sight was much more pleasant to gaze upon compared to last time, the blankets remained an untouched clean white rather than painted red. A few raspy coughs still snuck their way through occasionally, yet it was part of the recovery process as the flowering plant began to decay.

“(Name)?” Furina called out, clearing her throat. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

Your eyes lit up upon seeing Furina approach you, halting at the foot of the bed as to not startle you too much.

“Furina! You’re here!” You exclaimed, clearing your own throat as well to answer her question. “And yeah, I’m feeling a lot more light. I still occasionally have some coughs here and there, but no more blood or flower petals.”

She exhaled softly, bringing her white gloved hand to her forehead. “Thank god…” she breathed out reluctantly. You could practically sense the built up worry in her tone, the sight of you nearing death in such a brutal way had still left a scar in her mind.

“I just..I can’t help but wonder- what if I never said it? What if I was too late?” She choked out, tears brimming the corner of her eyes. She shrank in slightly, folding her arms as her hands rubbed over her elbows periodically. You couldn’t bear the sight of her like this. It wasn’t her fault, and she needed to know that. So as a good girlfriend, you extended your arms, gesturing Furina to come lay on you.

Without hesitation, she collapsed onto your chest. The poor woman was probably in just as much pain emotionally as you were physically from the awful thought of the worst possible outcome of you dying. A mellow sigh left your tinted lips as your fingers weaved through Furina’s hair comfortingly, causing her to only lean further into your touch in response.

“Furi. I’m fine now…there’s no need to worry, okay? I’ll only get better from here on out..”

A weak sniffle left her as she just nodded, hands grasping onto the fabric of your shirt.

“I know. It’s just- that sight hurt so bad to see- and knowing I was the reason for-!”

“You weren’t the reason. You didn’t know.” You interrupted, bringing a hand up to rest on her tear stained cheek. “And besides, since you did confess…now I’m recovering. I’m doing a lot better now in fact..”

Reaching over, you picked up a glass of water between your slippery fingertips, bringing it to your lips with wobbly hands as you gulped the water carefully. Your uncoordinated movements concerned Furina, yet your reassuring expression made her push that thought back. You were healing. That was all that mattered. There was a slight pause in your movements before you let out an exasperated sigh at the empty water pitcher. It wasn’t a big deal, yet it did get annoying to constantly ask for refills when you’re constantly downing glasses of water to soothe your parched throat.

Furina sat up, responding with a contented sigh as she walked over to the bedside table. “I’ll go refill it for you now that I’m here anyway.” She replied, her voice seemingly more relaxed now. You gave a soft hum in response, pulling the cloud like blankets over yourself to remedy the sudden shivers and cold feeling washing over your body. Suddenly, Furina’s heterochromic eyes lit up as if a lightbulb had just popped over her head.

“Oh! Right..I forgot something.” She exclaimed, tilting her chin down as she fumbled through her shirt pocket while you looked in confusion. She has a shirt pocket-?

You blinked in surprise as you were met face to face with a fresh bright blue lakelight lily. Furina bent over slightly into a bow as she presented you with the flower, peeking at you with one eye open as if to see your reaction. A warm, fluffy feeling spread through your body as you graciously accepted the flower from her faintly shaky hand, not being able to help the small giggle that left you at her gentlemanly behavior.

Without another moment of doubt, you set the flower down on the bedside table and cupped Furina’s face, palms caressing her cheeks as you pulled her in nose to nose against you. Both of your eyes closed as you basked in the comfort of Furina’s touch and affection, accepting her love gratefully.

“I love you, Furina.”

A/N: fun fact, my take on hanahaki disease is where it only happens if they believe that their love is unrequited, but the other person actually has feelings for them. This not only makes it seem less forced, but also multiples the angst TENFOLD if the afflicted person ends up dying and the other person has to live with the guilt of not confessing :3

[mm-lurking]

Your mara brings me pain too - Blade

Blade is the coldest Stellaron Hunter of them all. He is a man of few words and even fewer emotions. One fateful day you get a message from Kafka asking for your help and you learn that behind his cold exterior is a man just like you- and everyone else; he has fears, pain and regrets of his own.

A/N: I don’t understand much about how his mara works but this is how I envisioned it as. Plus, it was about time I wrote something on reader comforting Blade.

ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!! Oh my god thank you for liking my writing >< T^T

Warnings: Blade x fem! reader, angst and pain, fluff, please Blade deserves so much love and affection, idk my writing feels choppy my apologies I’m rusty as hell.

WC: 4227 — Hey are you free right now? It’s urgent.

One day on the Xianzhou Luofu your phone buzzes at night. You weren’t doing particularly much, just cleaning your space and lounging around. You pick up your phone and squint at the sender’s name only to stare at it for a while wondering if you read it right. It was Kafka.

I am available what’s up?

You wondered why Kafka would contact you for help at a time like this. Was everything ok?

Can‘t explain too much but it has to do with Blade. Come over as fast as possible.

You jump upon reading the message. There is a slight elevation in your heart rate as you read his name. Blade was the Stellaron Hunter that had caught your eye when you first encountered him. As days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, you started realising that perhaps you were in love with him. The idea of that sounded so stupid that you hated to admit it but it was the truth. Obviously, the 9 million bounty over his head wasn’t discouraging enough to stop these feelings.

Left with no choice, you grab your phone and head out the door, practically sprinting to the hideout where those two resided. You’re breathless by the time you arrive and knock on the door, panting like a dog as Kafka opens it. She looks at you with surprise all over her face.

“You’re here. That was fast.”

“You said it had to do with Blade so.”

“Ah yes, it does. Come inside.”

You follow her inside and shut the door close. Neither of you say anything and you silently follow her to a room in the distance. Right before she enters the room she turns around and looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“His mara is acting up again but this time he is wounded pretty badly. While I use my spirit whisperer to calm him down, I need you to help me heal and keep him steady. There is a first aid kit on the table inside.”

You stare at her with wide eyes and blink, taking a minute to process her words. Your gaze flicks back and forth between Kafka and the door, and you take a long pause before saying anything.

“Kafka are you sure it’s ok for me to…”

Your voice trails off. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help him. You were a healer; on expeditions and other occasions it was your responsibility to heal and tend to others wounds. But this was different -you liked Blade and you weren’t sure if he was comfortable with you healing him. You didn’t want to upset him when he was stable again. Kafka notices your dilemma and shakes her head.

“If there is anyone I can trust Blade with, it’s you. Plus, he would be ok with you.”

That makes your heart flutter but you mentally make yourself shut up and nod. She turns back around and twists the doorknob open, revealing Blade lying on the bed with injuries and hyperventilating. His coat has been discarded on the side of the bed and he lies on the mattress with nothing but poorly wrapped gauze on his upper body. There is a lot of blood splattered all over his limbs but the wound on his chest makes your heart twist; it’s oozing with warm blood and the bandages are unable to stop it.

The injury looks painful. The wound looks like a shattered mirror with lots of little cracks and crevices. You’re so shocked by his state that Kafka has to snap her fingers in front of your face to take you out of your trance. You look at her and then back at him again, wondering how to even explain what you were feeling.

“How did he…?”

“He must have over-pushed himself again. The Xianzhou Luofu reeks of his past and even with the lack of memory, the emotions are still present to induce his mara.”

You cautiously take a step closer to the bed. He’s clearly out of his mind as he keeps mumbling things along the lines of  “you must pay the price” and “my sins are no different than yours traitor”. A part of you is afraid to approach him as you fear he might accidentally hurt you in this state. But the other part of you aches seeing him in so much pain and there is nothing more you wish to do than to soothe his suffering.

“Be careful.”

Kafka warns you and you nod your head while continuing to take closer steps to his bed. There is an aura around him that you cannot discern; it is an uncomfortable feeling of pain and suffocation. By the time you are right by his bedside, the aura only gets stronger and worse. You

can hear him withering in pain from his wounds as sweat rolls down the side of his face. He turns his head left and right continuously as if trying to ease the discomfort. Judging by his half-lidded eyes, it seems he isn’t aware you’re standing next to him.

Immediately you summon your healing power, first creating a shield around yourself to protect you from the aura and any sudden self-defense movements he might do. Then, you lean closer towards his body and place your hands on his chest, removing his bandages carefully to begin healing.

“I’m going to start using the spirit whisperer now. On my count. One, two-“

You zone out the moment she finishes counting and release all the power you have into your hands to heal him. There is a faint yellowish glow over his chest as you hover your hands over the wounds. It takes a considerable amount of power to work on each wound he has, especially the one right in the middle of the chest that hasn’t stopped bleeding. You hear him groan in pain as you work your way through the different injuries continuously.

“I know…I know…”

You whisper soothingly as he seethes and huffs, presumably from the spirit whisperer. For a moment there is silence in the room until suddenly Blade throws his arm towards you, smacking your shield with a loud thud. The unexpected action makes you stumble a little and your healing abilities dispel from the shock.

You look up at Kafka who gives you a concerned look. She had mentioned that she cannot stop her ability halfway through the process and therefore leaving you alone to deal with Blade. You gaze back at Blade who's starting to stir awake and his groans only get worse as consciousness begins to set in.

With a deep breath, you hover your hands over his chest again and resume healing. Unfortunately for you, he tries to hit you again and the thud on your shield makes you flinch. Despite this, you push forward as you grit your teeth and finish healing his main wound.

A surge of pain takes over you as you exhaust yourself in the process of healing him. He’s trying to throw hands at you again, this time more aggressively as if trying to stop you from healing him. However, based on his constant murmuring and the pain laced in his voice, he’s reliving something and is accidentally taking it out on you instead.

At one point you catch his hands as you tightly grip them and hold them in place to stop him from hitting you. His strength is overbearing even during such a state of weakness. He squirms in your grasp, trying to escape but you hold onto him until he finally gives up and loosens his grip.

“Easy there Blade…”

Who knows if he’s actually able to hear you but regardless, you continue to whisper comforting things to him, trying to ease the pain as much as possible. It hurts seeing him in such a frail state, one where you can’t intervene. The mara is a sickness only those inflicted with it can understand and feel and as such, you’re left to watch him from the outside as he fights the battles in his mind.

The last of his wounds are easier to patch up and it should take no time to heal them. But just as you’re about to start healing again he physically stirs and you watch him twist and turn as his eyes flutter open. There is a momentary silence in the room before he shifts his head to look at you and you swear you see hatred in his crimson eyes.

“You traitor..!”

You gulp. He’s still mara-stricken but just awake. You’re unsure if you should say anything as it might make things worse; what if he gets physical with you? Hesitantly you softly reply.

“Blade, it’s me.”

“You…you must pay the price!”

Before you know it he has grabbed onto your arms once again and tries to wrestle you. The sheer force he exerts on you makes you panic as you try to make him let go.

“Blade…!”

You look back at Kafka whose eyes are closed as she continues her part of the job. A chill runs down your spine as you slightly panic, afraid you will be alone in dealing with his sudden change in demeanour. Another burst of light leaves your hands as you form a new shield and wrestle to contain him.

After what feels like forever, the unyielding grip he has on you loosens and he breathes heavily. You watch as he takes large gulps of air and turns his head side to side over and over. A pang of pain hits your chest as you try to ease his discomfort again, healing the last of his wounds while he seems to be calm. 

Silence falls in the room again as you finally finish healing. You take this opportunity to stare at his figure only to notice he has fallen completely silent and looks to be asleep. Confused at his sudden behaviour change, you glance at Kafka again who opens her eyes and looks at you. She gives you a small smile and you immediately understand that she has finished using her spirit whisperer.

“I have suppressed the mara in him. He should be fine now. Thank you for your help.”

Your attention shifts back to Blade, and you gaze at him longingly.

“You’re welcome.”

Kafka nods and smiles at you again.

“I will leave him in your capable hands. I am sure he will need your presence when he wakes up.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that. Yes, you would love to look after him but you were also afraid he wouldn’t be pleased if he saw you. Before you can say anything, Kafka leaves the room and it’s just you and Blade alone together. You haven’t been able to process anything since you arrived. Everything was so chaotic and sudden that only now were you able to think through things. You mentally trace the wounds on his chest, starting from the ones on his shoulder and moving your way down to his abdomen.

The injury on his chest hurts you the most. In your lifetime of getting injured and healing others, you’ve seen it all. You’ve seen flesh burn, knife stabs down to the bone, small scratches; name an injury and you’ve seen it at least once in your lifetime. But his wound was a unique situation. You knew that no matter how much he was stabbed and hurt his flesh would heal over and over on its own. That was the curse of immortality given to him. No matter how grave the injury, it would heal.

That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt right? You couldn’t even fathom the pain he went through everyday, getting hurt in fights and having to come back to his residence to bandage up everything on his own. Each day like clockwork that’s what he probably did, cursing his immortality as he cleaned up his wounds all by himself, all alone.

The image of that brings tears to your eyes as you look at his face. How lonely must it be to live a life like this? To know you could never die, to know that you would have to look after yourself all on your own? Did he ever wish that someone could look after him just once? Or did he think he wasn’t deserving of such love?

Your tears splatter on the bedsheet as you feel an overwhelming amount of sadness from such thoughts. How desperately you wished you could be the woman by his side to assist him in such moments. How desperately you wished that you could love him so dearly that every fibre of his body felt wanted and desired.

It takes you a while to calm down from such depressing thoughts. The tears have dried from your eyes but you continue to sniffle as you grab the bandages and gauze from the first aid kit to bind his wounds. Slowly but gently, you clean up the remaining blood on his body with a clean cloth and sanitise the wounds before sealing the area with the gauze.

You couldn’t help but start tearing up again at the thought of him wrapping the gauze around himself on his own. For how long had he been doing this? How many years? How long and how many injuries must it take for one to become a master at bandaging their wounds?

You cannot contain the tears in your eyes as they accidentally drip onto his abdomen. You attempt to hurriedly wipe your eyes but it’s hard to contain them the more you ponder. What you don’t realise is your sniffling and tears have prompted the man to wake up.

“Urgh….why are you crying…?”

His deep raspy voice makes you jump slightly and you aggressively wipe your tears before smiling at him.

“Goodness, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

You reply, completely ignoring his question. You’re aware he’s watching you as you work on his wounds, bandaging him carefully.

“Urgh…!”

“Ah I’m sorry, does that hurt?”

Worried, you lean closer to him and examine his shoulder carefully. You gently press on it to confirm the pain. He groans again and you give him a small smile.

“It’s a bit tender. Try to relax as much as you can.”

Instead of doing that, he catches your hand and looks at you intently. Your heart skips a beat as you make eye contact with him.

“I need to patch up the last injury on your arm Blade.”

“Stay.”

“I am not going anywhere.”

You reassure him and he nods before closing his eyes and exhaling. It takes a little under a minute for you to wrap up his arm injury and you sigh after you’re done. When you observe his body now, you see more bandages and gauze than his skin and the pang in your chest comes back again.

“…would you like some water Blade?”

You quickly ask since you were afraid you would start crying again. He opens his eyes and looks at you blankly before nodding. As he attempts to sit upright you quickly assist him, placing a hand on his back while the other holds his large one. He observes the shakiness in your hand as you pour him a glass of water and bring it to his lips.

“Drink some.”

The gentleness in your voice soothes him in a way he cannot explain. He complies and drinks the entire glass, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. Suddenly you feel very embarrassed and attempt to distract yourself but when your gaze lands on the chest wound you can’t help but feel sad again.

When he’s done drinking, you place the glass on the nightstand and sigh.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You softly ask as you help him lie down again. He hums and you take that as a yes. Unable to help yourself, you lean closer towards him and brush stray hairs away from his forehead. The proximity between you both makes your heart race but you fail to notice it as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his scalp. The sensation is calming and he finds himself relaxing under your touch. He watches you closely again, observing the tiny frown on your face and your red puffy eyes while you’re busy playing with his hair. He notes that you look exhausted.

“Your eyes are red.”

“Huh? Oh.”

You plaster a smile on your face. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t need to know what you were feeling. It was embarrassing and you didn’t want to make things awkward between you both.

“Are you- urgh!”

He groans in discomfort while trying to adjust himself. It’s the wound on his chest that seems to be the problem now.

“Easy there.”

You quickly help him out, checking the bandages again and readjusting them. Beads of sweat form on his forehead and you grab a cold compress from the first aid kit to wipe them away. His breathing pattern is inconsistent as he huffs and sighs from the aching of his body. You check his forehead and it feels warm to the touch which makes you frown.

“Blade I think you have a mild fever.”

“It’s the side effect of the mara.”

“You need to take medicine.”

“There is no need.”

“Are you sure?”

You stare at him sadly and he sighs. You continue to wipe the sweat off his face and neck as he takes shallow breaths.

“Did Kafka send you?”

He manages to ask in between the bouts of pain.

“She did.”

He sighs and intently looks at you.

“When the mara strikes you shouldn’t be next to me.”

“She said she could trust only me with you.”

He scoffs.

“Even so.”

Silence fills the air before he continues.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

You jokingly reply only to realise he’s being dead serious when you make eye contact with him.

“I’m ok. I am a healer after all.”

You change the cold compress as you speak and look for a new pack. It is then he notices the slight bruises forming on your arms and the redness around them. Without a word, he grabs your arm and you yelp.

“Hey-?!”

He examines your arms and gazes at you with a look you cannot decipher. You gulp at the intensity of his gaze.

“When exactly did you get here?”

“Blade none of that matters, all that matters is if you’re ok-“

“Did I hurt you?”

You immediately shut your mouth. There are several ways you want to answer the question but nothing comes out.

“I will take that as a yes.”

“Blade please-“

“Why would you risk being around-“

“Because I care for you!”

A sharp exhale leaves your mouth as you realise what you just said. The tears you had been trying to hide so desperately started to flood your eyes again.

“Please. Let it be.”

You whisper slowly while putting away medical supplies. In your peripheral vision, you see him look at you with wide eyes as if unable to understand.

“I am a healer Blade, I will be fine. But I worry for you.”

You gently whisper as you adjust the bedsheets around him and fix his long hair. This time your tears have nowhere to hide as they freely roll down your face. With nothing left to do, you just awkwardly grip the edges of the bedsheet and hang your head low.

“I will give you some space. Rest well.”

The moment you let go of the bedsheet and try to stand up, he immediately clasps your hands tightly and silently demands you to stay.

“Blade?”

“Stay.”

Hesitantly you remain by his bedside and look at him. He doesn’t let go of your hands and continues to peer into your eyes.

“Stay.”

He repeats himself and you sigh.

“Alright.”

He slowly shifts away from you and pats the edge of the bed. Your eyes widen and you look back and forth between him and the bed.

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t reply and instead gently drags your hands towards him until you have no choice but to sit on the bed. He then proceeds to look at your arms and then at you again.

“You…the fate of those I know is never a good one.”

You intertwine his fingers with yours and tenderly smile at him.

“That will change with me.”

You watch how his eyes widen momentarily before he turns his head away.

“You have a long life ahead of you, young one. Don’t waste it on me.”

Hearing that makes you frown.

“You’re going to have to find better ways to get rid of me then.”

“Mm.”

Silence falls once again. To your surprise, he doesn’t pull his hands away from yours as you rub circles on it. You note how calloused his hands are and the amount of scars littered on them. There is warmth radiating from his palms and it feels comforting and protective.

“Are your wounds still hurting?”

“No.”

“Good.”

You shift around to get a better look at his face.

“Do you feel at ease now?”

“Mmm.”

“Let me know if you feel any discomfort, okay?”

“You need to be more careful when the mara strikes me.”

“…”

“It is reckless of you to be around me even if you are a healer.”

He then turns his head to get a better look at you.

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair again and sadly smile.

“I hate that you have to deal with this alone Blade…”

You mentally yell at how tears have started forming in your eyes again.

“I hate that you suffer on your own while I spend my days in comfort. I hate that you have to bandage and heal yourself every day all alone. I hate that you’ve grown so accustomed to this life that you do not allow yourself to be loved.”

The tears in your eyes fall on him once again and he grips your other hand tightly. There is a confused look on his face, as if he doesn’t understand why would someone care for him and why would someone feel sorry for him.

“Foolish girl. Why are you crying?”

“Because I-“

You choke on your words and attempt to hide your face by hanging your head but fail to do so. He slowly brings his free hand to cup your face and sighs. His palm completely encapsulates your cheek and you subconsciously lean into it.

“My life is cursed to immortality. It is my sin to bear.”

“Still-!”

“Do not cry. This is a daily affair.”

“Doesn’t it hurt Blade? Even if you’re used to it?”

He takes a deep breath and wipes the tears away from your eyes.

“A sin is a sin. Of five people, three must pay the price. I am one of them.”

You sob harder into his hand, unable to stop yourself from feeling this way.

“Just what sin must one commit to suffer such consequences?” He stops wiping your tears and gazes at you momentarily with an indescribable look in his eyes. You can see how there are thousands of thoughts swarming him as he wonders what to reply. Fearing that you might have overstepped his boundaries, you immediately try to change the topic.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just..”

“It is a long story young one. Should you ever have to face the situations I have, do not make the same choices as me.”

“It must be hard to live with such regrets…”

He stares into the distance then hesitantly replies.

“Even if I have regrets, there is no point in pondering about them. There is nothing that can be done.”

“I am sorry…it should be me looking after you, not the other way around…”

You manage to say in between your hiccups. He continues to wipe the tears from your face and gives you a small smile. Seeing him smile makes your heart skip a beat and you can’t help but give him one in return.

“You need to rest.”

“So do you.”

“I am already resting.”

“I can rest later.”

He sighs at your stubbornness. You giggle a little and squeeze his hand, reassuring him you would be fine. A little chit-chat later, Blade falls asleep from your rhythmic playing of his hair while still holding your hand. There is a large silly smile on your face as you look over him lovingly.

Your tears have dried and the aching in your heart has calmed down. In his lifetime, you may not be able to take his curse away but the least you could do was to be by his side in times of need. If the Aeons were kind enough to you, perhaps in the future you could be his woman. There is a strange feeling of determination that burns in your chest as you hold onto his hand tighter and stroke his hair. You silently stare at his peaceful face, mentally tracing his handsome features as he takes slow deep breaths. The thumping of your heart grows louder with each passing second.

I would do anything for you Blade. Anything. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[ladybyakuya]

| BLIND + IZUMO HARUICHI.

+cw. — izumo haruichi x f!reader, coworker to lovers, oblivious pinning, flirting, confession, description of panic attack, claustrophobia & coping mechanisms, forced proximity, fluff, angst, character study, smut ( kissing ).

+wc. —3.1k ( shocker )

+syn.— last summer Izumo Haruichi came under your radar but this summer he has managed to get under your skin.

+notes. — part of ‘HELP WANTED’ mini server collab hosted by @interstellar-inn | redirect to blog navigation.

+tags. — @dear-koi @qichun @violet-turning-violet

The refectory of the office is oozing with ruckus this afternoon. It is not unusual but today it is just unbearable. The compartment plate in front of you is still filled with rice, curry, and salad as when you started eating your lunch. The line for the food is still alive; people are gossiping, taking food onto their plates, gossiping, taking spoons and forks, chopsticks— the sound of utensils clanking against each other one after another or sometimes all at once in sync is bugging you today. Your ears should be used to it by now after working for two years straight but it seems like a bother today. It is awfully loud in here. Everything is, even the heat.

Among this hustle and bustle, the only sound that bothers you the most is someone’s voice. It is faint to catch on from where you are sitting but the voice keeps coming to you in bits and pieces, like ebb and flow. Sometimes it is there and sometimes it is not. Sometimes your ears pick up on it but sometimes not and when it does not, your heart waits for it, even searches for the sound to reappear. And the heat is just making it worse. You can practically feel the beads of perspiration cascading through your cleavage as you search, waiting for the voice to turn up again. The air conditioner is on though, and the fans are working perfectly fine but with this kind of crowd, and heat in the dining place is at par with some blast furnaces.

“Well, I can take you there sometimes if you want,” Izumo states as one of the new interns, sitting diagonally to him, places a dumpling from her plate to his. Aoi Kaguragi, Izumo Haruichi, Reno Ichikawa, and Iharu Furuhasi are sitting at one table but Izumo is the most disconnected from them. 

“No. No. Haruichi-san, it’s fine. I can manage.” The girl sitting beside him pleads. A group of four girls who joined as new interns have occupied the table beside them. There is just a slit of partition between the two tables. Most tables are for a group of four people, but cubicle tables are cluttered together to make the team bigger, and better to establish a good workplace culture to some extent. 

Izumo expresses his thanks with a sun-kissed smile to the girl who just gave a dumpling to him, without asking. You make eye contact with him for a second but it's awkward. Aoi's nose shrinks. It acts as a distraction from Izumo’s azure gaze. Aoi stuffs his mouth with the dumpling Izumo just received out of disgust earning an alarming glare from Reno. Izumo does not even bat an eye to it. But the girl protests, “Hey. . .” Aoi glups it before saying, “he hates dumplings.” Iharu is busy eating his lunch. This guy . . . he woke up early, made breakfast for himself, got so busy and immersed with cooking that he forgot to eat. So, he is eating quietly. Reno keeps telling him to slow down but who is he? His dad?

“Well, wouldn't it be easier if you could get some directions and details?” The girl looks confused so Izumo divulges. “I live around there. So, yeah I could get you in touch with some agents if you want,” The girl looks at him with so much hope as if she has a chance to ask for the moon. 

“Oh my God. Really? Thank you so much Haruichi-san,” she chimes

Oh Fuck! Here it comes. Aoi, Reno, and Iharu share a look as you get up. The clank of your spoon was a little too loud to be ignored. Okonogi asks, “You didn’t even eat today too. Are you okay? Do you wanna leave soon today? I can finish your work if you want . . . ” 

“No. Kono-chan. It’s alright. I don’t feel hungry. I will eat when I feel hungry,”

“Yeah, gallons of coffee and tons of cakes,” Kikoru prompts without missing a beat. Your shoulders sink at her statement. She is not lying but gallons? Tons? That’s surely an exaggeration. You take your plate and as you walk past his table he gets up. Please let him not run into you. . . please god, please.

“Going to share the rest with your boyfriend?” He grabs a bottle from its designated section. You watch him walk, pick a bottle, and then come back but he halts in front of you blocking your way. Of course. Why didn’t you expect that? You should have taken a different route. 

“So what if I’m?” you squint your eyes at him since his Adam’s apple shift. Now, that’s different, unlike other days. Your eyebrows jump. Teasing each other is as easy as breathing for you and him. So, you just give in to this golden opportunity. “Your flirt game is so bad, no wonder you’re still single, Haruichi-san,” you snicker emphasizing ‘Haruichi-san’ since you have already been granted the authority to call him by his name but sometimes it is just amusing how he hates it when you do not use it; even if he specifically said that you can call him Izu-kun or simply Izumo. He just wanted to get included in your league of people; the people who you have given a nickname. It's almost like adopting a puppy.

Izumo rolls his tongue inside, along his bottom lip too quickly to pinpoint his frustration. He is pouting now. His hand proceeds to his nape scraping his hair for a moment in the hope of seeking some respite from this heat. Why does he even keep his hair long? Why not just cut it? Or put it in a bun. Your eyes go to the bunch of interns who are eagerly watching you two as if you are big stage actors. “My flirt game isn’t bad, . . . he trails off and then sighs. His hand swings back in his pocket as clarifies, “It’s just that . . . the person I like is a fucking idiot. That’s why I’m still single.”

You scan the group of interns at his valor display of vulgarity. Girls must find it hot, don’t they? That’s why he does it, isn't it? Good for him! He has an audience now. You bet they are practically swooning. Aoi’s face is a sight to behold. Iharu has given up. Even Reno has his head tipped down while holding the bridge of his nose. He is not someone who loses patience easily except Kafka Hibino, his mentor and co-worker.

“What a loverboy.” You opined to him before your gaze switched back to the girl who was trying all the ways to get his number. Yeah, it was very obvious especially since she was practically rubbing herself on him since the day she joined. How do people do that? Get hooked onto someone like the twinkle of a star. That too in this heat. It is hard enough to keep coherent behavior, thoughts, and habits intact but now you have another problem, Izumo Haruichi. He is being spectacularly annoying today. 

You look at the girl before saying anything. You will probably be doing her a favor. 

“don’t waste your time on him, he is going to break your heart, girl.” 

The spoon from her hands falls on the dish splashing a little bit of soup on her dress. People have already started to look at this table by now. 

“You’re just jealous,” the girl sneers back.

You part your lips forming an apology at the tip of your tongue but you realize the damage you have done. She hurriedly tries to clean herself with a napkin to avoid eye contact. 

You should not pick on people’s emotions like that, however small, however meek it may seem to you, it's a lot for them. What’s with you today? This is not like you. This is more like  . . . Haruichi. He has this habit. Maybe it's starting to rub off on you simply because he is now working with your team on this upcoming project.

Izumo has always been like this. Flirting with girls, leading them on, giving them hope, and then, breaking their hearts. Does he realize that? The hurt he leaves in his wake? He is like a swan in a lake leisurely swimming in the evening that attracts ducks, influencing them to be like the swan, elegant and beautiful when there is a surge of fresh batches of interns; every year. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it backfires.

His flirting is not limited to just girls. That’s how he became such close friends with Aoi. But then again, it is not exactly flirting. Could it be he is unaware of how he carries himself? Nah! That’s too much of giving him the benefit of the doubt or maybe has managed to charm a part of you. Yeah! That would happen in any case. He picks up on people’s emotions really quickly and does not hesitate to call them out. It’s a nasty habit. 

That is how much you know about him, as a co-worker. Outside this office, he is a total stranger to you. So, you do not have to look out for him, worry about being among the swarm of ducks, he might turn into one, or fearing if there hides a hawk among them.

“That’s too much talking for an intern,” Iharu remarks, taking his plate and standing up.

“I agree.” Reno nods his head. “Wait, what?” He is not surprised by Iharu’s statement but rather his wit. Before the situation gets elongated you try to put an end in your way but whether the bow will pierce the heart or the head you gamble on that.

“Yes. maybe you’re right. That was so rude of me. But you see,” you bow your head a little to match her eye level since her eyes are on her plate. “ I don’t go for committed boys.”

Izumo’s face is aghast. What did you just say? He is not committed. He is single. Excuse you, did you not hear him a while ago? 

Izumo looks at Aoi, clearly uncomfortable and frightened by your burst of bubbling behavior. That was odd of you. He has never seen you this annoyed. He has always been like this with you, teasing and flirting around you with other people. Maybe the heat is going in your head today. You walk towards the dustbin to empty your plate before keeping it on a designated table. Everyone watches you as Izumo follows you like a kicked puppy searching for his owner. It’s pathetic.

He is not pathetic . You are just dumb. How can you not get it? How can you not see it? His feelings for you? Well, not that he exactly laid his heart out in front of you but isn’t it obvious? Everybody on his team is aware of it. Everybody on your team is aware of it. Are you really that dumb? Or do you just choose to ignore his feelings? If it is the latter then he is done for. Perhaps, the fear of abandonment and rejection compels him to create backups while at the same time, it gives him a refuge to hide his feelings; keep them protected, warm, and soft; so that he can still talk to you, still be around you, breathe the same air as you.

After all, who would look for a leaf in a forest?

“Fancy a candy?” Izumo chimes as he leans against the door frame of the archive room while you slide the access card to open the door.

“No thank you.” You tartly reply with a poker face. God, he followed you here, which means he is gonna yap for as long as he is here and God forbid he better not talk about what just happened in the dining hall. 

Izumo mumbles to himself, stepping into the room, “Guess I’ll have it then,” with a pout.

“Did the storage closet door lock behind us?” you ask as the bang of the metal door sends jolts throughout your body.

“I think so,” Izumo walks towards the door to check. He hopes that you are not playing any prank or something but then again, who would like to be stuck in the archive room? Especially in summer when the air conditioner is out of service and the fans have been hopeless since last spring. Izumo hears a loud thud. As he turns he finds you curled up in a fetal position on the floor struggling to breathe.

“Oh no no no no” you blabber feeling the dread and anxiety piling on top of your body. It is getting heavier. Seeing you like that, Izumo forgets what to do. At first, his feet move slowly though, then he quickens his pace but finally skids towards you since his calf muscles betray him.

“Breath. Look at me.” His voice is so faint or maybe you are already sinking in the depth of the attack. You know what to do. The tactic to overcome this. But with people around it gets harder. Most people do not know what to do and even if they did they are only aware of the ‘321’ rule since it is easier to remember, faster to execute, and the default suggestion before the medic arrives. Right. Medic. You can call, right? You touch your hips for your cellphone feeling only your skin and clothes. Your phone is at your work desk. Fuck. Your only hope is this guy, Izumo Haruichi.

“That’s not. . . it. you inhale barely but manage to say the next set of words in one breath. 

“That 321 rule doesn’t work on me.”

Immediately, your chest starts to feel heavy. Your head feels heavy. Your breathing is labored.

“Yes, I know. I know.” Izumo assures. His voice is so still, so even that it gathers all scattered pieces on him finally. “54321 it is.” He adds. He tries to make you sit but you are so stiff under the influence of fear that even with his strength he is in no luck. Moreover, he does not want you to treat him as a threat rather than a cane to grab on.

“Identify 5 things you can see,” 

Your eyes roam everywhere, to the farthest point it can see things. It has already started to itch and water. You blink rashly before mumbling. “Files—you inhale a long breath. “cabinets, AC, tables, chairs” 

“Next. 4 things you can touch” 

“The wall,” you say and touch it. You can finally sit up now, leg sprawled on the hot floor. Next, you touch your i-card. “My ID card.” Then your hair clip. “my hair clip,” unfastening it from your hair letting your hair fall onto your shoulders; it's a turquoise one today, and finally his ID card. You grab it in your hand and watch closely, flipping it too to glance at the other side . What an awful picture of Izumo .

“Your ID card.” 

Izumo holds you by the arms. His touch feels cold against yours. The full-sleeve dress is the only barrier between his skin and yours. Your palms clamp around his upper wrists. 

“Okay, 3 things you can hear:” 

“A.C.” 

“Fans.”

“Your voice,”

Izumo nods every time but it becomes slow at your third pick. 

“2 things you can smell.” It sinks in him: how in desperation and hunger you seek whatever you can get.

You take your scented handkerchief out of your pocket. Izumo takes it and holds it against your nose. Your exhaustive eyes look at him. His perfume smells rather too sweet today. You fall into his chest, embracing him. “Your perfume,” You whisper nuzzling against him. He is still sitting with his legs folded. You can hear his heartbeat, yours too. You are alive. You are very much alive.

“1 thing you can taste,” He says in a low voice, like the start of a lullaby. Reluctantly you pull your face away and look up. At this angle you can see his tongue, it’s white due to the candy. Could it be lichi flavored? There is still a bit of it left, peeking against his teeth.

Curiosity cascades into your body like rain and soaks him wet in a fraction of a second. It is an entirely foreign sensation for Izumo: Your lips are plush and soft with no hint of lipstick. The way your fingers press into his chest is unforgiving to his taut muscles creating a sense of pain, but a different kind of pain; the good kind. You are desperate and forceful. Your lips taste like spicy and honey. What did you have for lunch today? 

WAIT. You break the kiss. Izumo is as stunned as you are. His azure is asking why did you stop? You are still holding on to him. How did he know that the ‘321’ rule does not work on you? Moreover, how did he know that you have claustrophobia in the first place? 

Ah! Now it makes sense.

The realization paints your mind like it's high on drugs. Before you can think twice, your hands trail up to his nape enveloping his face. He instantly pulls you into his lap folding his legs one over the other to make you comfortable. He is swift and strong. This time, he is the one to demand first. The candy must have melted by now. It was coconut-flavored. You do not remember swallowing it neither does he but only the feeling of your lips on his, his on yours. He pulls away from the kiss gasping for air. His mouth and nose are cherry-tinted. He is getting an earful from Aoi for sure.

“I have texted Aoi.” His hands recoil back into his pocket from under your shirt. “He will be here soon.”

Izumo looks at the ground. Is it awkward? Yeah! Definitely. Does he want this to get over with? NO!NEVER. Damn him for wanting you. Damn him for craving you even at desperation like this.

You give him a long hum. “Why do you look like a crumpled receipt? It’s not like I will break your heart once we are out of the room, Izumo.” You place a kiss on his cheek. “Still have to thank you for saving my life.” 

You get out of his lap. He blinks hopelessly. Yeah, his suffering isn’t going to end . You still are as dense as a cabbage and so defenseless, so tactless, by god it drives him nuts. “I love you,” Izumo mumbles to himself. Aoi opens the door as you look at Izumo. 

“What did you just say?” Both of you walk side by side as you two walk out of the room. Aoi is still holding the door.

“Nothing” You continue to scrutinize him with your eyes.  “I said, I hate you.”

You smile. “Yeah! I hate you too.” 

Poor Aoi is still holding the door witnessing the cheesiest corny confession ever.

—

network: @underratedcharactercorner

[virtualreader]

broken hearts and healing souls

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: carrying the ruins of the broken heart the death of his father had left behind, Dean pushes you away, fearing hurting you as well. or perhaps he’s just scared of being hurt himself, one more time.

word count: 3,3k. (does not include lyrics)

warnings: alleged age gap, fierce anger, heated argument, drinking out of spite, supressed feelings, cursing, yelling, not the happiest end, and lots and lots of angst.

part 2

a/n: i started watching supernatural about a month ago and I'm loving it so far. and god, i couldn't help but fall truly, madly, deeply in love with dean winchester. this scenario came to my mind while listening someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic, so this one shot is based on this song. feedback is always appreciated. please, comment if you think I should write a part 2 to this one!

"You can't boss me around, Dean! I'm not a child anymore!" you barked at the hunter standing by the motel room's door.

"I can't? Watch me!" Dean retorted, breathing heavily and extending his arms upward to appear bigger. "As the eldest here, it's my call to make the hard decisions. And I've decided that you won't come on any more hunts, end of story. You're risking your life out there—it's dangerous, y/n. What's not clear about that?!"

You and Dean had been arguing for a while. He came into the motel room the three of you—Sam, Dean and yourself—were forced to share, stringently declaring you were not allowed to go with them on hunts anymore.

After the previous mission ended with you being kidnapped by the demon you were after and tied to a chair in an old building's basement, the oldest brother wasted no time in making a decision. Despite your eagerness to rid the world of evil, Dean prioritized your safety, even if you didn't see it that way.

Dean Winchester was an undaunted and confident man, he had been since his mother died, he had to be, for his family's sake, for his own sake. Yet, when it came to you, potential bad outcomes constantly assaulted his mind. He could not afford to lose another loved one, so he did not take a gamble.

"It is my life that I am endangering, so I strongly believe that I get to choose whether I want to expose myself to hunting hazards or not. You are not my dad and cannot give me orders, Winchester!" you declared, raising your voice with anger and trembling as you pointed your index finger at him.

You were hurt and confused. Hunting had been your life for as long as you could remember and now he was taking that away from you. You tried to plead your case, but he had already made up his mind.

In response to your defiance, Dean raised his chin, pursed his lips, and clenched his jaw. Yet, even in his anger, he maintained steady eye contact with you. It was clear he was not going to back down easily.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he queried exasperated. “That demon back there, could have killed you, and you know that. This is not some inoffensive deer we’re going after.”

He was undoubtedly referring to the incident that happened earlier that day, when he was able to free you from the grasp of the demon. It was the same demon that mercilessly took your father’s life, leaving you fatherless at the tender age of twelve and subsequently placed under the care of the Winchesters.

Growing up with them, you learned to navigate the dangerous world of hunting and the supernatural. From hours-long road trips and campfires to cozy movie-evenings and pancake Sundays, your memories with your new family included a wide variety of experiences that left a lasting impact on you.

The bond you formed with the Winchesters was one built on mutual respect and a shared purpose, making them more than just your guardians; they were your family, and you were theirs.

"God, what a pig-headed dude you are," you muttered, oozing frustration, as you let out a peeved sigh. "So you, old man, can risk being killed by these heartless creatures, but I can't? Is it just because I'm younger than you guys? ‘Cause I already told you, I am as much of an adult as you are.”

Clearly, you would not be swayed by Dean's demands. You were your own person, with your own will and your own desires. You were determined to stand up for yourself and live your life on your own terms.

He took a moment to observe your bruised appearance as he pondered his answer. The blood that had previously emerged from the wound above your eyebrow was already dry, while the cut on your lip was still struggling to form a scab.

He noticed the swelling around your left eye, a tell-tale sign of the force of the blow that had landed on your face. And as he looked at you, he could not help but feel responsible for your emaciated state.

"If you're such an adult, you'll be fine on your own. You don't need me, do you?" the hunter sassed back, towering over you, tilting his head and upturning his brows.

Dean's words hurt you deeply, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes. But you refused to let him see you cry. You straightened your back and met his gaze with a fierce determination.

"Do you want me to leave?” you said, your voice shaking a little. “Fine. If that's what you want, I'll leave. But don't expect me to come back."

You walked past him, feeling his eyes on your back. You didn't turn around, didn't give in to the urge to look at him again. You needed to be strong, to show him that you could make it on your own. But deep down, you knew that you didn't want to be alone. You needed Dean, more than you wanted to admit.

"Hey, girl!" you called out to the waitress, raising your voice above the noise of the tavern to get her attention. "Can I get a refill, please?”

You were alone, left out in the cold Clinging to the ruin of your broken home Too lost and hurting to carry your load We all need someone to hold

As you waited for your drink, you couldn't help but replay the argument with Dean in your mind. You felt hurt and betrayed by his words. You were mad at him for not understanding your desire to be by his side, no matter the risks.

You were lost in thought when a voice snapped you out of your reverie.

"Rough night?" inquired a gold-haired man as he took a seat on the adjoining stool.

The man seemed to be a bit younger than Dean, possibly in his mid-twenties, closer to your own age. He wore a white crewneck t-shirt that hugged his muscular arms around the biceps, and his dark slim fit jeans matched the black pattern printed on his shirt's front.

It was difficult to determine whether it was the effect of the second-rate alcohol or your personal taste in men, but it was safe to say he was far from unattractive and he was, in fact, quite handsome.

"You could say so." you answered his question with a touch of apathy but still flashed a slight smile his way.

You've been fighting the memory, all on your own Nothing worsens, nothing grows I know how it feels being by yourself in the rain We all need someone to stay We all need someone to stay

The man took a slow, deliberate sip from his beer bottle and leaned back, his eyes fixed intently on you. His gaze seemed to linger for a moment, as if he were trying to gauge your reaction to what he had just said.

"You know," he said, his voice low and suggestive, "I can make it better for you, pretty."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks at the man's brazen suggestion, and you couldn't help but feel a little intrigued by his offer.

You glanced around the dimly lit tavern, taking in the smoky air and the clinking of glasses. It was the kind of place where people came to drown their sorrows and forget about the troubles of the day-to-day life. And in that moment, you couldn't help but feel like you were just another lost soul adrift in the sea of humanity.

The man's eyes were still fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be waiting for your response, as if he knew that his offer had the power to change the course of your night—or maybe even your life.

You took a deep breath and met his gaze head-on, feeling a sense of daring that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"And how, exactly, do you plan on doing that?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

The man smiled, a slow, confident grin that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Let's just say that I know a thing or two about making a woman feel good," he replied, his voice dripping with innuendo.

It was abundantly clear what his intentions were at this point in time, and to be entirely candid, it did not annoy you at all.

You eagerly accepted the charming man's alluring offer. And with a sense of anticipation, you followed him out of the sleazy bar, seeking shelter from the gentle patter of the light rain under the protective eaves.

As you walked alongside him, you found yourself captivated by his confident stride and the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light emanating from the street lamps.

You could feel his hand slowly making its way towards your hip, until it rested there, just barely grazing the upper part of your buttocks. This subtle touch sent a sparkling feeling coursing through your body, starting from the core and reaching all the way up to your chest. It created a warm whirlwind of expectancy, causing your heart to beat faster in anticipation.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice asked, a hint of pain in it.

Hear the fallen and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? At the end of the day you were helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

Dean narrowed his eyes, anguishedly taking in the sight in front of him.

As you stood there, drenched from the rain and your mind clouded by the alcohol, Dean's sudden appearance caught you off guard. He was directly facing you, his eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the pain and anger etched upon his features.

"What the hell are you doing here, y/n?" Dean asked incredulously, his voice laced with anger and hurt. “And who the fuck is that jerk?”

You froze, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. You had been so caught up in your own emotions that you hadn't even considered how your actions might affect Dean.

You've drunk it down and you've spat it out And nothing tastes like the things you had So tear it off, why don't you let them go? We all need someone to stay We all need someone to stay

"I didn't know she was taken, mate. I didn't mean to meddle in your relationship," the guy standing next to you apologized, his voice trembling as Dean's contempting gaze threatened to pierce his soul. Green eyes—usually a symbol of grace—had never held such a look of hatred. “She’s all yours, mate.”

Once the man marched back into the tavern, with tail between legs, the hunter’s emerald orbs landed on you. And as he beamed down at you, you noticed how much woe his gaze held. He wasn’t someone to let his emotions surface, not at all, that would leave his feelings too exposed, too unguarded.

He didn't seem to mind the rain dribbling over his leather jacket or his well-styled hair as he approached you. Although you had a defiant demeanor, you took a step backward in response, and your back met the wall covered in graffiti.

“Thought you said ‘I’d be fine on my own’.” you tried to sound confident as you quoted him, yet the alcohol running through your veins caused your words to slur together.

"Yeah, I said on your own! Not with some opportunistic macho man!" he said, referring to your previous companion.

He looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and anger, his eyes scanning your face as if he was trying to find some kind of explanation for what he was seeing.

And then, his anger boiled over, and he let out a shout that echoed through the empty streets. "No way. Are you fucking drunk?!" he yelled. "Are you nuts?!"

The force of his outburst hit you like a physical blow, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. You had never seen Dean like this before, and it was clear that he was at his breaking point.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other in silence, the rain pouring down around you like a curtain. And then, slowly, you began to speak, your words tumbling out of you in a jumbled mess.

"You're one to talk. You, my dear friend, are the very reason I'm here, drinking my sorrows away." you scoffed at him.

Your eyes darted around, looking at anything but Dean. You felt intimidated—what with Dean’s tall figure and the disappointment you could discern in his expression.

“Drinking won’t solve anything, y/n. You know better than this.”

"Do I really?” you uttered, struggling to keep at bay your wobbly lip. “Last time I checked, I was just a kid to you.”

Hear the fallen and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? At the end of the day we're helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

As the rain continued to fall, the rhythmic clattering of the water drops mixed with the sound of cars cruising over the wet pavement, creating an overwhelming melody.

The droplets seemed to grow in size and force. You welcomed the heavier rain, grateful for the way it obscured the tears that threatened to overflow from your eyes.

You knew that if he saw you crying, he would only see you as weak and immature, even more than he already saw you. You had always been strong and independent, and you didn't want him to think any less of you.

So you stood there, letting the rain soak into your clothes and hair, hoping that it would wash away the pain and sorrow you felt inside.

“I don’t think of you as a kid. I just prefer you staying away from those creatures. You know better than anyone what that demon is capable of. It killed your father, and you could’ve died today too, y/n!”

“Do not act like you care! And do not dare mentioning my dad ever again! You are too self-centered to take others’ needs into account.”

With a trembling voice, you lashed out at Dean, your emotions running high and your patience wearing thin. You couldn't stand the way Dean tried to control your life, always telling you what to do and what not to do.

You had grown up fast in the world of hunting, learning to fend for yourself and to take care of others. You had seen things that most people couldn't even imagine, and you had faced danger and death head-on. You were not some delicate flower that needed to be protected at all costs.

And yet, Dean seemed to think otherwise. He was always trying to shield you from harm, even if it meant keeping you from doing what you loved most.

"Do you even hear yourself, Dean?" you continued, your voice rising with every word. "You act like you're the only one who knows what's best for me. You don't trust me to make my own decisions, although I've been hunting just as long as you have. You're so wrapped up in your own fears and insecurities that you can't see how much you're hurting me."

"You're part of my family now, and as such, I must protect you," Dean declared, helplessness building up inside his chest. "Why do you find it so hard to understand?”

You were alone, left out in the cold Clinging to the ruin of your broken home Hear the falling and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? The end of the day and we're helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me?

“I-…Just…leave me alone. Please, Dean.”

And it was then when, acting on your most primitive impulses, you took off, walking away from Dean with no determined destination.

It was not that you were afraid of Dean, no, you had spent too many years among the Winchesters to know he would never voluntarily hurt you, at least not physically. You found him sort of intimidating, more like it.

It was well known among the Winchesters' acquaintances that Dean, although not often, could become livid if you pressed the right buttons. And no one would ever want that fatal rage to be directed at them, unless they wanted to know what hell felt like.

However, the emotion the hunter was feeling now was not anger. It was something else, something both mysterious and intriguing. Although his muscles remained tight, his eyes shone with unshed tears, and a pinched expression was plastered on his face.

You fought against the urge to turn back and run into his embrace, to apologize to him and leave this dispute behind. It was a struggle to hold onto your never-so-fragile pride when your love for him had never felt as powerful as it did now. Not since you had first fallen in love with him, at least, back when you were a silly, naive teenager.

A hand grabbed firmly onto your arm, forcing you into a halt. You did not have the courage to turn around and face him with a trail of tears cascading over your cheeks, even if the drizzling rain disguised it somewhat. There was no need for that, however, when he began speaking, not waiting for you to look at him.

"I'm sorry, y/n," he apologized in a small voice, unaccustomed to saying such words. "I didn't mean to push you away. I... I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. I'm scared, y/n. Scared of losing you like I lost my father, like I lost my mother," Dean confessed, his voice softening, dropping in pitch.

You turned to look at him, really look at him, and saw the pain and fear written in his face.

You felt a lump form in your throat at the raw emotion in Dean's words. You had always known that he cared about you, but you had never realized just how much you meant to him.

"Dean," you said, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. "I'm not going to die. I'm strong, and I know how to take care of myself. But I need you to trust me. I need you to let me make my own decisions, even if it means taking risks sometimes."

You stopped, taking a big deep breath before continuing.

“What you said back at the motel, it hurt me, a lot. I have nothing left, Dean. My family is dead, I have no place to stay, no job, no nothing. I’ve lost everything.”

“You have me.” He took a step towards you, getting closer, and caressed your feathery cheek with his large hand. “You always have and always will have me.”

Hear the fallen and lonely, cry out Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope? At the end of the day we're helpless Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most? Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

Dean wiped away a tear from your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin softly. "I'm sorry for pushing you away, y/n. I was just so afraid of losing you. But I promise, from now on, I'll trust you to make your own decisions. We'll face everything together, as a team."

A turmoil of heartfelt emotions whirled its way down to your very core as Dean's words sank in. And, as you looked up at him, you saw the love and devotion in his eyes, and you felt grateful like never before to the Winchesters for taking you in.

Seizing the proximity, you took a moment to admire him. The softness on his eyes only adding to his already perfectly alluring features. The green orbs standing out his face had never shone as bright, and his nose glowed as red as his eyes, probably from the cold air of the drizzly night.

Yet the part you spent the longest time observing was his lips. Sultry pouty lips, that rested slightly parted.

And as if in a dream, he leaned in intertwining his lips with yours in a genuine kiss. Sliding the hand that previously laid on your cheek to the back of your neck, bringing you nearer to his own body.

His grip was both firm and steady, but no less gentle, just so as if he never wanted to let go of you. Your movements kept in step with each other's, as your mouths melted in a much-needed dance.

None of you cared about the rain soaking your clothes or the idling engine of the precious impala of Dean’s, nor about the small crowd by the tavern’s entrance looking at you. You were in a deep immersion into the depths of the moment, and all you saw, all you could regard was the man in front of you - the man you’ve always loved.

The idyllic moment was short-lived, much to your dismay, as Dean pulled away and apprehensively took a step backwards. But the pain you felt then was nothing compared to the stabbing sensation in your heart when he opened his mouth to speak again.

"I'm sorry. This was a mistake."

part 2

[gardnhee]

can we start over? - c.yj

✸ tw/content. intentional lowercase, cussing, angst(very little), fluff, use of baby (only like once or twice.), reader is slightly antisocial in the beginning, not really proofread

✸ exbsf!yj x afab!reader

✸ note. yj drabble cs i love him an unhealthy amount

✸ song rec. start over - jacquees

you stood in a corner like the awkward person that you are. away from all the chatter, laughter, yelling, and horny crowd. this is how you liked it, you indulged in your solitude.

the unbearably loud music rang in your ears, the fact that you were standing just a couple feet from the speakers didn’t help either.

you decided to drown the ringing by taking a sip of your cup, inhaling a sharp breath as the liquid cascaded down your throat.

“…who hired this dj? music’s unbearable…” you murmured as you frowned at the dj who stood a couple steps from you.

it was fairly boring for a while, the music slowly started to feel faint as the stuffy atmosphere began to push its way into your already tight space. you slightly squeeze the plastic cup in your hand, pressing your back against the wall.

you felt trapped.

deciding you’ve had enough of this, you walk away from the corner. as if you were popping a bubble; like a puppy opening its eyes for the first time, but instead of meeting with a fascinating world, you’re met with drunk shit heads who can’t dance, let alone walk in a straight line.

“where is she…” you huffed, looking for the coworker who invited you to this party, if you can even call it that. it’s more depressing than a fucking funeral.

pushing through everyone was a literal pain in the ass, the environment reeked of alcohol, and the air was incredibly thick. you were starting to regret even accepting the goddamn invitation.

go they said, it’ll be fun they said, “fun my ass.” you utter a small ‘tsk’ as a man twice your size bumps into you, not even having the common courtesy to apologize. god, this is horrible.

you somehow ended up in the kitchen. sighing in frustration, you rest yourself against the counter.

“i’m going to fucking kill-“ you started, but were rudely interrupted when someone walked into the kitchen.

your eyes slightly widened as you acknowledge the person. your ex best friend. fun.

he was whistling along to the horrendous noise these people call music, happiness basically oozing from his pores.

he turned his head to you, looking at you from head to toe in shock, shock which soon subsided and was replaced with an expression you can’t quite describe.

“oh.. hey.” yeonjun waved, mullet drenched in sweat as some loose hairs stuck to his forehead. he breathed heavily, his once joyful demeanor now engulfed in…uncomfortableness? melancholy? nostalgia? it’s been so long that you can’t tell anymore.

he slowly made his way to the fridge, giving you an awkward smile as you bite your inner cheek and look away.

it was silent for a while, you could feel his eyes burning holes into your face.

“yn?” he quietly said, arms crossed over the open fridge door. he looked at you, waiting for a response.

in all honesty, he didn’t expect one. at least not after ghosting you completely and then coming back a couple months later like nothing happened.

he scoffed and shook his head with a sad smile, sighing in disbelief. he was disappointed in himself.

yeonjun shut the fridge door and begun to lead himself out the kitchen, “yes?” you replied with urgency, you didn’t want him to leave. not again. not after losing him for months.

he chuckled, looking back at you. “you’re…not mad at me?” he asked, feet moving in your direction. he realized you aren’t so closed off anymore, you’re more…awake, as if you’ve come to terms with the gravity of things, and for that, he’s thankful. he can make things right now.

you grew nervous, a prominent lump built up in your throat, making it difficult for you to breathe. “i wouldn’t say i am - or was - mad, i guess i..“ you stopped yourself as yeonjun stumbled, falling onto you.

you tried backing up, but couldn’t. fucking counter…you thought, swallowing slowly as the smell of alcohol invaded your nostrils.

“yeonjun? yeonjun, you’re drunk.” you tried pushing him off, but he didn’t budge. instead, he laid his head on your shoulder, “not drunk, just… tipsy.” he blabbered.

it was silent for a couple seconds until you heard him sniffle. he was crying.

“wha…” he grabbed your waist, sobbing into your shoulder. “i’m so-“ he hiccuped, followed by a groan. “i’m sorry, yn, i’m sorry!” yeonjun cried, lifting his head in an attempt to look at you. you stood there, dumbfounded. heart hammering against your chest. he’s drunk. it was evident, yet he still denied it.

he peeked at you through his wet lashes, incoherent sounds slipping past his lips as he wiped his runny nose. “and you say you’re not drunk? look at you! why are you crying?!” you raised both brows in confusion, stroking his hair softly.

you’re supposed to be cussing him out for all the hurt he’s caused you, for leaving with absolutely no explanation, yet here you are, combing your cold fingers through his sweaty strands as he bawls into your shoulder. you’ve seen him like this more often than not; always manages to surprise you, though.

“i’m not drunk…. ‘m sorry” he hesitated, wiping the wetness from his eyes with the back of his hand. as you realize how close your bodies are, you nod, circling around him.

yeonjun turned, biting his lip. he wants to say something. you know he wants to say something, but he’s holding back and it’s making you anxious and impatient.

“would you maybe…want to leave?” you blink, all previous feelings of discomfort disappearing. “what’re you planning?” you question, crossing your arms as you sternly stare at him.

“maybe grab some drinks and then go to my place?” he smiled, which quickly disappeared when you displayed a doubting look. “i mean, i just want to talk to you…without all the noise…and the multitude of people.” your heart shattered, and you were sure your eyes softened, because his did too.

“fine.” yeonjun’s ears perk up, big smile on his face. “let’s go.” you nodded, grabbing his arm before he left the kitchen.

“i’m driving.”

“but-“ his eyebrows furrowed, “no buts, deny it all you want, we’re not risking it.” he sighed, defeat poking through the pout on his lips. he lowly hummed in agreement, walking out of the kitchen with you trailing close behind.

“home sweet home!” yeonjun exclaimed, arms flying in the air as the bag of soju dangled in his hand. “yeonjun, be quiet, it’s late.” you slowly grabbed his arm, taking the bag of soju away. “i shouldn’t have allowed you to drink on the way here.” you sighed, placing the bag on the counter and taking out the already opened box of soju.

he pouted, stumbling towards the little coffee table that sat in the middle of his living room. “bring some soju, please!” he slurred.

you grabbed the box, nestling it under your arm as you made your way towards drunk yeonjun.

you sat down, setting the box on the coffee table. “oh…i forgot to bring shot glasses.” you groaned, fixing to stand up when yeonjun stopped you.

“no, it’s okay. i’ll go get them.” he smiled, patting your hand.

“but-“

“it’s okay.” he shook his head, standing up and making his way to the kitchen.

in a matter of seconds, he was back, sitting in front of you with soju in hand, two shot glasses already set on the table.

yeonjun held the bottle from the bottom with one hand, and swirled it vigorously with the other. you watched him closely, how his hands wrapped around the bottle, you wonder how they’d feel on your face-

“yn?” you blinked, snapping back into reality. “yes? i’m sorry.” you gulped, noticing a full shot glass in front of you.

as you were about to reach for the glass, you stopped midway. sighing as you plopped your arm down on the table. yeonjun noticed this and raised a brow, “is everything…alright?” he asked, pouring soju into his glass.

“yes…and no.” you admitted, “i mean i just…i missed this, you know? spending time with you. i missed being here. i missed this apartment.” you paused, staring at yeonjun who was now looking down at his thighs.

“i missed you.” you leaned forward, arms now crossed on the table. yeonjun snapped his head up, quickly grabbing his glass and gulping the liquid down.

“ahhh…” he set the glass down, frowning as the liquid burned his throat. “i missed you too yn…” he smiled weakly, you realized he wasn’t in the right mind for all the sappy stuff right now, so you decided to change the subject.

“tell me, what have you been up to?” you smiled, grabbing your glass, tilting your head to the side as you swallow the drink.

“me? hm…not much….” yeonjun leaned forward, smile spread across his flushed cheeks.

✸ ✸ ✸

you lost track of time, it seemed. but you weren’t the only one. yeonjun, too, lost track of how many shots he took. not that it mattered, he was already drunk out of his mind to begin with. “baby…..” he slurred, reaching out to you as you gasped. baby?? are you serious??

“yeonjun what…” you decided to stop yourself, not even questioning anything that came out of his mouth.

after looking around for a minute, you groaned. there is so much to clean up.

an unfinished 20 pack of soju on the table; only 4 remaining, some snack wrappers thrown on the table, and a drunk yeonjun who can’t even utter a proper sentence.

“‘m s’sorry” he hiccuped, head lulling as he smiled like an idiot. his lips glistened under the dim light, most likely from all the constant licking and drinking he’s been doing.

“let me take you to your room so you can sleep.” he shook his head violently, backing up against the sofa behind him as you made your way to him.

“no!” he pouted, looking at you with tears brimming his eyes. “oh you’re such a child, come on let’s go!” yeonjun pushed your hand off his arm, whining.

you stopped and huffed, sitting down beside him in order to comfort him, “why are you crying?”

“i f…feel like shit” he cried, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “why do you feel that way?” you knew this was just a drunk fit of his, but you had to at least hear him out.

“‘cuz i ruined my chance with the person i love” he sniffles, staring into your eyes with his teary ones. you blinked, wiping his tears with your thumbs. “and who may that be?” you question, stroking his shoulder in a comforting manner.

“you.” you inhale sharply, blinking in confusion. you shook your head, chuckling awkwardly, “you’re just drunk, come on.” yeonjun stopped protesting, defeated by his own tiredness.

you wrapped his arm over your shoulder, dragging him while leaning against the walls for support. “goddamnit, what have you been eating? you’re so heavy.” you strain, sighing in relief as your eyes find his bedroom door.

opening the door was one thing, laying him on the bed was another. you pant, his body weighing you down. as a result you slipped and fell.

on top of him.

jesus fuck.

you froze when he groaned. “i’m so sorry!” you scrambled to stand up, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you against him.

“sleep with me tonight, please.” yeonjun whispered, lazy smile spreading across his face. you shake your head, “yeonjun, you’re drunk. we can’t be doing this. you’re not in the right mind!” you faintly shake your head, “please?” he insisted.

you sighed, pressing your forehead against his chest. “fine. but i will be leaving first thing in the morning.” he chuckled, nodding. “if you want to get comfortable, my shirts are over there-“ he hiccuped. you nodded and patted his chest in understanding. “just sleep, okay?? i’ll be right back.” yeonjun hummed, closing his eyes.

you wake up groggy and disoriented, staring at the window as a ray of sunshine peeked through the curtain, making you squint and smile lazily.

you rub the sleep from your eyes and stretch, “good mor-“ you stop as you notice yeonjun isn’t in bed with you anymore. you look around the room once more, no sign of him.

a pang of worry and confusion washed over you. one would think it’s stupid considering the fact that you’re in his house, yet you can’t help but be alarmed.

what if he left you again?

‘oh that’s stupid, yn. pull yourself together.’ you shake your head and scoff, but the panic settles at the pit of your stomach nonetheless.

throwing the blanket to the side, you stand, yawning as you wobble towards the door.

“yn-“ yeonjun stops, doorknob in one hand and breakfast tray in the other. he eyed you as you stood there, eyes wide in confusion.

yeonjun blinked, “good morning?…” he lets out a breathy laugh, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with his foot. “i made you breakfast.” you felt your heart squeeze at that. he smiled, walking over to the bed and signaling you to lay down.

and you did. you laid down, placing the warm blankets back on your body and smoothing them over in order to create a flat enough surface for the breakfast tray.

“thank you so much..” you gush as yeonjun placed the tray in front of you. he sat down, crossing his legs and smiling like a total idiot.

“you’ve been nothing but smiles since you walked in the room…did something happen?” you question, making yeonjun hang his head with an even bigger smile on his face. “you look so beautiful.” he mumbled, adjusting his position on the bed.

“what?” you looked up, cheek stuffed with food. he snorted, scooting forward and leaning towards you. “i said,” he wiped your lip with his thumb, eyes traveling to yours, holding them dearly. “you look so beautiful.” he chuckled at your expression, making his heart skip a beat.

“you’re making a mess, be careful, yeah?” you grab the tray, placing it to one side as you choke on your food. yeonjun stands with you, stroking your arms with his soft hands.

“hey, you alright?” you nodded, grabbing onto his shoulder for support. “it’s just…” you stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat. “you caught me off guard, that’s all.” yeonjun’s eyes softened, “i meant it.” he caressed your face as a warm smile tugged at his lips.

“why…why are you being so nice to me?” you stepped away from his hold, sitting back down on the soft bed. he sighed and flopped down beside you, staring at the curtains that blocked the sunlight.

“because i’m in love with you.” his eyes traveled from the window to you, “i’ve been in love with you.” you waver, eyes widening in confusion. “and i don’t want to mess up again.”

“so last night-“

“i remember.” yeonjun nodded, fidgeting with his thumbs as he bit his bottom lip. “i guess i was drunk enough to let that slip but not enough to forget.” he reasoned, gazing at you briefly before staring at his feet.

“it’s okay if you don’t want anything to do with me, i mean-“ you placed a hand on his, drawing circles on it with your thumb. “yeonjun, im in love with you too.” he stopped, shifting on the bed.

“what?…”

“im in love with you too.”

he stuttered, mouth opened for a few seconds before closing it again. you saw the glint in his his eyes before being pulled into a hug.

a long, warm, cozy hug.

a hug you’ve been craving for a while.

his hug.

you broke into tears, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “oh god, yn, i’m deeply sorry. i’ve hurt you so much.” yeonjun ran his fingers through your hair, cooing softly.

you stained his shirt, but he didn’t care,“i missed you so much, you know? we stopped talking for so long. i thought i lost you for real…” you say between sobs, lightly punching his chest.

“i forgive you, dumbass.” he stayed quiet, you’re too nice. he didn’t deserve you, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. yet you gave it. you gave something so precious to someone who doesn’t even deserve a single look from you.

yeonjun held your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs. he smiled, “how about this, you finish breakfast and then we can go wherever you want. i’ll explain myself. i’ll explain everything.” you nod slowly, grinning.

“there’s my yn, i missed you.” he quipped, earning himself a slap to his arm. he winced, rubbing the spot.

“is this a date then?” you question, grabbing another bite of your once forgotten food.

“hmmmmmmm” yeonjun tapped his chin, laughing as you whine. “yes dummy, it is.” he flicked your forehead lightly as you giggled.

you grab his arm, “let’s get ready then.” yeonjun didn’t budge as you tried dragging him along, “but the food…” you shook your head, “it’s gone cold, plus i know you’re somewhat hung over so let me treat you to food, hm?” you tapped his hand reassuringly.

“yn-“

“i’m not taking no for an answer.” he pursed his mouth, slowly nodding in defeat.

“perfect, where do you want to go?”

“how about…”

you both disagreed the entire way to the bathroom, laughing and giggling as jokes were thrown around between sentences.

you missed this.

you missed yeonjun.

he was willing to start over, and you were willing to let it happen.

© GARDNHEE 2024, do not copy, modify, or upload on other platforms.

💌: im sorry this is lwk ass, i hope you enjoyed regardless! please make sure to leave a like, comment, and reblog!! thank you 🫶

[flowhence]

johanna finding out reader sh? 🤔 i'm in desperate need of johanna fanfics 😓

two broken people - j.m.

summary: johanna finds out that you aren’t as ok as you seem.

pairings: johanna x fem!reader

warnings: self harm, depression, suicidal ideation, angst, hurt/comfort

author’s note: if anyone is struggling with these issues, please do not hesitate to reach out to me. you are not alone.

You wondered why you were alive, why you survived. Your hands bloodied with the blood of many. You don’t want to keep living. You don’t deserve it. The hopelessness grips onto your bones, settling deep within your soul. Everything is numb, yet you still smile your fake smile, you still laugh that fake laugh. It didn’t matter how many people you were always around, the inexcusable feeling of being lonely weighs down on your chest.

Johanna has noticed something different about you, but you cannot seem to bring yourself to care. You can’t seem to keep up the act.

After training you were exhausted, mentally and physically. You quickly darted out of the training area, speed walking to Johanna and yours room. When arriving at the room you quietly closed the door, going towards your stash of razors you picked out the sharpest one.

[i tried it like before and this time i made a deep cut]

You rolled up your sleeves, not even wincing at the way they stuck to your past wounds. You took a deep inhale, pressing the razor hard against your skin before you exhaled and drove it deep into your flesh watching as the blood oozes out.

[i thought about my friends and the way i didnt give enough]

Distantly, you should’ve known it would’ve been too deep. The blood starts to ooze out in a faster yet still somewhat sluggish pace, you feel dizzy and lightheaded. Vaguely you thought you didn’t really want to die.

[and i shouldve told my mother, “mom, i love you,” like a good son]

You stumbled into your desk, before you could think much about it you cut even deeper on your other wrist. A smile mixed with relief and remorse carved its way onto your features. You hear the door open, but you can’t really focus on anything but going to lay down.

[but this life is overwhelming and im ready for the next one]

“Y/N! Oh god… what did you do?!” Johanna yelps, running to you immediately. You can barely make out the words she’s saying. All you can think about, is how you’ll finally be free.

[take the blade away from me]

“Let me go…” You whisper, your voice sounds weak and slurred.

[i am a freak, i am afraid that]

Johanna shakes her head, “No! You promised… you promised me.” she says, desperately.

[all the blood escaping me won’t end the pain]

Johanna desperately screams for help, you vaguely see Katniss run in, the shock and despair on her face is heartbreaking.

[and i’ll be haunting all the lives that cared for me]

You can’t seem to get your eyes to stay open, you can hear Johanna screaming, crying, and sobbing, yet you can’t bring yourself to stay awake.

You woke with a start, looking around you you see that you’re in medical. You clench your teeth. Looking down you see the bandages on your wrists and … tears start streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N? it’ll be ok. i’m here,” You sob even harder at your girlfriends words.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” You sob into her shoulder, gripping onto her shirt like its your lifeline, and it very well could be.

At least, at least you have Johanna. Two broken people trying to love, trying to heal.

[unknownperson246]

Hello this is anon man hehe :D

Could you do a 90s slash x fem reader?

Where slash is quite mean and teasing towards the reader and acts all cool in front of the band just to humiliate her but when another guy is being flirty and touchy with her slash doesn’t like this?

With smit and angst?

Thank you!

Jealousy Hurts

Words: 771

warnings: *smut* *angst* *yelling* *teasing* *cussing* *bleeding* *p in v* *mentions of getting high*

You and Slash have been dating for 3 weeks now and you are sitting around his house conversing with his band called Guns n’ Roses. You barely knew any of them.  Slash has been very mean to you the whole time. Slash is pushing you around and calling you names in front of everyone and that embarrasses you. He was teasing you too.  

“Hey, dumbass get up and go get 6 more bottles of beer!” He yells at you like it was a restaurant.

You quickly get up and grab 6 bottles of beer that Slash had asked for. As soon as you get back Slash pushes you on the couch and sits next to you. 

“Everyone this is my whore” Slash says while cruelly smiling at you.

You wanted to cry right then and there because you knew Slash was teasing you in front of 5 men you barely knew. You got introduced to them tonight and you only know their names. There was a tall blonde guy whose name was “Duff”. There was a raven-looking man named “Izzy”. There was a short blonde guy whose name was “Steven”. Lastly, there was a red-haired man with his hair all teased up. His name was “Axl”. 

Everyone in the band seemed chill. They all seem high except for Axl. Izzy was in the corner smoking. Duff was drinking his vodka. Steven was playing air drums and Axl was sitting talking to Duff. Slash was sitting next to you while he was smoking. You were staring at Axl because he was the one person who was not doing anything. Axl catches you staring at him and he comes over to you. Slash watches the both of you carefully. Axl offers you his hand and you take it. You go over to the sofa where Axl is sitting next to Duff.  Axl pulls out his cigarettes and he offers you one. Slash seems even more pissed off when Axl offers you a cigarette. Axl’s lips start coming closer to your cheek and he gives you a small peck trying to flirt with you.

“You are a pretty lady, you know that?” Axl says looking in your eyes and flirting with you.

Slash has had enough and he pulls you over to his bedroom after taking you from Axl. Slash is pissed and he slams the bedroom door shut. He pushes you on the bed.  

“Y/N take your clothes off right now!” He yells.

You take all your clothes off and he removes his boxers. He can see how wet you are. 

“You're so god damn wet, is it for me or Axl?” He asks.

“It's for you Slash,” you say quietly scared but intrigued about what is about to happen

He places his cock at your entrance and he slides it in. He keeps pounding your tight hole. He does not stop.

“Slash, please slow down,” you whimper.

Whenever you try to get him to stop he just keeps going faster and faster. Your nails start to dig into his back. You feel your stomach tighten into a knot and you feel liquid oozing out of you. 

“Oh fuck fuck” you moan.

“Y/N I came in you and that means that you're mine! Not Axl’s or anyone else's, you're mine!” He says with his cock still inside of you. 

“Slash why do you treat me like I’m some fucking bitch im your girlfriend why did you call me your whore in front of everyone it was embarrassing. I just wanted one normal night where I could get to know the people you're around while you're on tour” You tell Slash softly trying not to cry. 

Slash starts to feel guilty for the way he treated you in front of everyone.

“I'm sorry Y/N,” he says softly. 

You don't have enough time to accept his apology because you feel more stuff dripping on your thigh. You look down and it’s blood from how rough Slash fucked you. You quickly go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. You feel sore and you know it's going to stay that way for a couple of days. The bleeding isn't stopping so you grab a pad and put it on your underwear. You had to pretend you were on your period now. You and Slash go to the living room where the band is. You go back and pretend that nothing happened. You keep your distance from everyone, especially Axl. You and Slash are now sitting on the couch. His arm is kept around your shoulder so everyone knows to keep away from you.

[genshinluvr]

The Lonely God

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader/Creator!Reader

Summary: You're the creator of all things! Everyone in Teyvat worships you; even their ancestors worship you! You answer prayers and make miracles happen. But you know what's ironic, though? Despite you being worshipped by many, you couldn't help but feel lonely. You yearn for friendship and attempt to bond with the twenty-five men who are tasked to protect you while you're in Teyvat. Oh, and you're also not the best at expressing your feelings.

Note: This is most likely the first and last time I'll make a creator/God!Reader AU because this is not my thing 💀 I have no idea how this idea popped up in my head, so I might as well type it and get it out. This isn't the typical God!reader/Creator!reader fanfics you see on Tumblr; they're amazing! I ended up realizing that it was not my thing and switched to my style of writing. So instead of the gut-wrenching angst you all see for SAGAU fics, you're just going to get my typical Isekai'd!reader interaction. Kind of. Please keep in mind that I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of, other than it being somewhat religious-themed?

Word Count: 10.9k

Want to read another SAGAU fic? Read Our Dear Creator!

The day you have descended to Teyvat is the day people of Teyvat throw a huge celebration to welcome you to earth. All seven regions of Teyvat celebrated for two weeks. The first week consists of feasts, game stalls that are related to your divine presence, a performance dedicated to you, your creation, and your impact on Teyvat. You would visit the nations and witness how each of the seven regions and its people celebrate you and all of the things you have done for Teyvat and the inhabitants of Teyvat. Your visitation is a huge deal, and it's highly anticipated. Who doesn’t want to witness a higher power visiting their nation? Someone who has more power than a government entity and an archon that rules the country.

When you step foot in each nation, everyone can feel the immense power oozing from you. Dressed in beautiful, expensive, and exotic clothing from each region that is tailored just for you, people are almost intimidated by your mere presence. While you have high-leveled military personnel escorting you around the city while you visit, it doesn’t stop your most loyal followers from approaching you and proclaiming their love and admiration for you. I mean, how could they not? You have done so much for their nations and for the people of Teyvat. You have answered prayers and have performed so many miracles.

The second you step foot into the seven nations, silence will fall over the mass crowd of people who are anticipating your appearance. You are the epitome of beauty and grace. Everyone’s breath is taken away when you look in their direction. You have this glowing presence that catches everyone’s attention wherever you go— literally. Wherever you go, you have this warm gold glow, no matter what the lighting is. Some might even claim to see specks of stars and glitter shining in the said warm glow. 

After the first week of celebrating your presence on Teyvat, the second week consists of people from all over the region visiting you and the shrine that is dedicated to you. At the grand shrine, people leave offerings to you in hopes of a great year, successful marriage, business, wealth, fertility, good health, and many more. While people are offering fruits, food, Mora, flowers, fragrances, incense, and alcohol at your shrine, you are sitting on a throne in the next building over, speaking to your followers. At the same time, your most loyal acolytes stand guard in the same room as you and the line of your worshippers. 

“Thank you for answering my prayers, your grace. With your blessings, my husband and I have conceived seven children. We are currently expecting baby number eight,” the tearful woman says, kneeling in front of you while holding your hand.

Itto and Childe’s eyes widen as they look over at each other.

“Seven?!” Itto mouths to Childe.

“I know, right?!” Childe mouths back. 

You smile at the woman and wipe her tears away, helping her up from the ground. The heavily pregnant woman clutches onto your arms and continues to thank you for blessing her and her husband with many children. 

Diluc sighs and takes a step forward. “I believe we should cut the meeting for today. Today has been a long day for them, and I believe they would like some privacy now,” Diluc says.

“What?! I-I’m not finished speaking,” the pregnant woman gasps, holding onto you tightly.

You smile at the woman and gently rub her back. “It has been a long day, Xinyi. I do not know how long you have been waiting in line to be able to speak to me, but we can continue our conversation tomorrow. After all, you are pregnant. You need to rest. I believe your husband has been watching you from afar worriedly. You wouldn’t want to make your husband worry even more now, would you?” You ask softly.

The tearful woman looks behind her and locks gazes with her husband, who is watching her like a hawk. Xinyi looks at you and nods her head sadly, wiping the tears from her cheeks. The people around you grumble under their breath and comply. You give Xinyi a light squeeze on the shoulders before she turns around and exits the throne room with the others. From there on, Dainsleif escorts the line of people out of the building, and you sit down on the throne, letting out a quiet sigh. Today was a long day, and you’re glad that Diluc has stepped in to end the meeting with your worshippers. 

“How are you feeling, your grace? Are you hungry? We can get you something to eat if you’d like for us to do that,” Thoma speaks up, standing in front of you.

You sigh and give Thoma a smile. “I am feeling a little bit famished. Perhaps go fetch me a small snack and a drink?” You suggest. 

Thoma bows and turns to leave, but Thoma stops in his tracks when you call his name. Thoma turns around and looks at you curiously. “Yes, your grace?” Thoma asks.

“Please, just call me [Y/N],” you plead. You look at the other men in the room and gesture to everyone. “All of you, please, just call me [Y/N]. You can call me ‘your grace’ when other people are present, but when it’s just us, you can call me [Y/N],” you said.

Aether’s eyes light up, and he nudges Xiao and Heizou. “Does that mean we get special treatment from the deity?!” Aether whispers loudly, shaking both men beside him by their arms.

“Uh….” you laugh nervously, scratching the back of your neck. “Sorry to interrupt, but please treat me like how you all would treat other people. I know I’m a God, and I’m widely worshipped by the people of Teyvat, but I don’t know how to act like a God,” You said, scratching your cheek awkwardly. 

“What are your thoughts, Venti and Mister Zhongli?” Kaeya asks, turning to look at the two archons.

Venti shrugs his shoulders. “There are no specific rules on how a God is supposed to act and speak to others,” Venti says, giving you a big smile. 

“If that is what [Y/N] wishes, then it shall be granted. After all, it is their decision on how they want others to view them and how they want to interact with those around them,” Zhongli replies. 

“So, we can speak informally to them, right? Someone won’t smite me if I give [Y/N] a nickname and crack jokes with them?” Itto asks excitedly. Itto’s eyes shine almost as bright as the sun, and a big smile stretches across his face. 

“I don’t know, Itto. Do you want to test it out?” Dainsleif asks, entering the throne room with his arms over his chest. Itto laughs nervously and shakes his head, backing away the closer Dainsleif gets. 

Itto hides behind you, both of his hands on your shoulders as he cowers away from the blond man. Dainsleif stands in front of you, staring down at Itto behind you. Itto lightly pushes you towards Dainsleif, making you stumble into his chest. Dainsleif places his right hand on your lower back and glares daggers at Itto for lightly shoving you in his direction. 

“Did you just push [Y/N]?!” Xiao demands, his polearm materializing in his hands as he marches in Itto’s direction.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let’s calm down now! Itto didn’t mean to push me,” you said, grabbing onto Xiao’s bicep to stop him from smiting Itto for pushing you into Dainsleif’s arms. 

Xiao freezes in his spot when he feels your hand grabbing his bare bicep. You notice his reaction and slowly retract your hand. You clear your throat and give Xiao a small smile and look at the others in the room, making sure that they’re not as tense as Dainsleif, Itto, and Xiao. Luckily, they weren’t tense; they seemed entertained.

“It’s okay, Xiao. I’m sure Itto didn’t mean to do it. As grateful as I am for you and your readiness to protect me, let’s calm down. I’m okay; I’m not hurt,” you reassure the Yaksha.

Xiao lets out a huff of breath and glares at Itto. Xiao looks at you, and his gaze softens. He nods his head and lets his polearm evaporate in the air. You smile at Xiao and pat his back as he goes back to where he was previously standing.

Without another word, the men give you a bow before exiting the throne room, leaving you alone. You watch everyone go before walking back to the throne. You collapse on the seat and slump down in your chair, propping your head up on your elbow, and stare at absolutely nothing. With the number of people in Teyvat worshipping you, you have never felt so lonely. Yes, you get endless gifts and offerings, and you listen to people’s prayers and perform miracles. But that still doesn’t cure your loneliness. 

You did not want any of your acolytes, er the men, to be formal with you because you wanted to form a friendship with them. Yes, they are your most loyal followers who will not hesitate to kill for you if they have to, but you don’t want that at the same time. You want them to treat you like you’re not a God; you want them to see you as a person instead of a divine being. Just like how they view Zhongli and Venti.

You see how they interact with each other when they’re not on duty to protect you and make sure that people don’t step out of line. The way they bicker with each other, laugh at each other’s lame jokes, or act like typical men, makes you yearn to form a friendship with them. The door to the throne room opens about thirty minutes later, and the men file into the throne room.

“Your grace— I mean [Y/N]— lunch is ready! I hope you’re hungry because there’s a lot of food out there,” Gorou says, approaching your throne.

You look at the men with wide eyes and slowly get up from the throne. Their eyes follow your every move as you walk down the steps.

“A lot, you say?” You murmur, approaching Gorou while stroking your chin. “I’m sure it’s enough to fill my stomach up! Please, lead the way,” you said, gesturing for the men to show you the way to the dining room.

The building is filled with staff; from cooking staff to cleaning staff, they all stop what they’re doing when you walk by them with the men surrounding you in a circle. They all bow to you as you’re passing by, and you smile and wave at them when you get the chance. Upon entering the dining room, there is a large dining table in the center of the room with multiple chairs pushed underneath the table. 

Your eyes widen when you see the kitchen staff bring in more food and set them on the table with so much food lined up with it. You turn to look at the men, who are watching you with amusement. You point at the table, speechless. Your hand falls to your side, and you clear your throat.

“You weren’t kidding when you said there’s a lot of food,” you laugh lightly. 

Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “We told the kitchen staff not to make too much food because we don’t know how hungry you are, but at the same time, we don’t know what you want to eat,” Scaramouche says.

“Do you think you’ll be able to finish all of this? It would be a waste if you’re not able to finish the rest,” Ayato says, looking at each dish on the table.

You shake your head. “I will not be able to finish all of these on my own,” you said. You approach the table and turn to the men. “If you all would like, would any of you want to join me for dinner?” You ask.

Heizou smiles brightly and raises his right hand in the air. “I would love to join you for dinner, your grace! The food looks delicious, and just smelling the food makes my stomach growl!” Heizou says, rubbing his stomach.

Tighnari nudges Heizou. “Didn’t [Y/N] tell you to call them by their name? Why are you calling them by their title?” Tighnari mutters to Heizou.

“That’s because there are kitchen staff entering and exiting the dining room. We wouldn’t want anyone to hear us call [Y/N] by their name other than their title. It can stir something,” Cyno whispers, popping up between Tighnari and Heizou. 

Al Haitham sighs. “Let’s not keep them waiting any longer, shall we?” Al Haitham says, walking towards where you’re standing and begin conversing with you. 

Everyone begins to sit at a random chair at the dining table. You sit at the end of the dining table, picking the food you want to eat while the others do the same. The kitchen staff emerges from the entrance and places teacups in front of each person, pouring hot tea into the ceramic teacup for each person.

“The food smells amazing,” Kaveh says, almost letting out a moan when the food touches his tongue. 

Kazuha nods his head. “If this is the food a divine being gets every day, then sign me up,” Kazuha smiles, taking a bite out of his onigiri while talking to the men beside him. 

The dining room is filled with laughter and joyous chatter; the sound of cutlery clanking against the porcelain plates and bowls fills the dining room. Then there’s you, eating food while occasionally looking up from your food to watch how they communicate with each other. You’re in a dining room filled with almost thirty other people, and yet you still feel alone. You’re on your second plate of food, but you’re starting to lose your appetite.

They didn’t seem to notice it, but you’re glad they weren’t paying close attention to you and your lack of appetite. You wish you could form a bond with them and speak to them easily without feeling like you’re interrupting something or butting into a conversation. Plus, what’s there to talk about when you’re a divine being above all, and they’re all your loyal acolytes? They know everything about you, but you know so little about them other than what regions they’re from and what visions they have.

“Maybe it was a mistake to invite them to join me. I thought inviting them to join me would make me feel less lonely, but I feel even lonelier in a room with twenty-five people.” You think to yourself. You let out a silent sigh, resting your chin in the palm of your hands, propping your head on your arm while twirling the noodles with your fork.

“Your grace?” A soft voice calls out to you.

You look up from your plate and make eye contact with Baizhu. You give him a small smile. “Yes, Baizhu?” You murmur.

“Are you alright? You’ve been quiet since the beginning of dinner,” Baizhu says.

You clear your throat and nod your head. “Yes, Baizhu. I’m fine, just feeling drained from today. After all, I did speak to about two hundred people. It was a long day today,” you said, fixing your posture and continuing to give Baizhu a fake smile.

“It has been a long day. I can’t imagine having to sit in one spot while listening to two hundred people praise you and the miracles you have performed and prayers you have answered,” Pantalone says, gazing at you with interest. 

You laugh softly and tuck your hair behind your ear. “It’s new to me. I’m shocked to see that there are people who still believe in me despite my vague presence,” you confessed. 

“Your stories have been told throughout Teyvat. Everyone worships you, and even their ancestors worship you. I have yet to come across a nonbeliever,” Pierro says, dabbing his lips with the cloth napkin.

You slightly shrunk in your seat. “It’s weird having people worship me, especially when it’s the entirety of Teyvat,” you said. You let out a humorless laugh and begin messing with the fabric of your expensive attire. “It’s weird how I’m worshipped by many, and yet I still feel lonely,” you mutter to yourself.

Albedo leans in your direction, looking at you quizzically. “Pardon?” He asks.

You shake your head and wave him off. “It’s nothing. I was talking about how I should finish my food before going to bed. It’s starting to get late,” you said, looking over at the grandfather clock, ticking away.

Dottore tilts his head to the side, pressing his lips into a thin line, contemplating whether he should ask you the question or not. After debating for some time, Dottore decides to ask, “Do gods sleep?”

You shrug your shoulders. “That is usually up to the god. I’m not sure about Zhongli and Venti, but I sleep even though it’s not needed. I sleep to regenerate my energy like every person on Teyvat, even though I do not need to do that. Whenever I feel stressed, I go to sleep in hopes that it will clear and ease my thoughts. I go to sleep to pass the time if there’s nothing for me to do, but as a God of all beings, I’m always busy,” you said.

“Since you are a God worshipped by the entirety of Teyvat, how do you find the time to sleep?” Capitano asks.

“I don’t. As I’ve stated earlier, Gods don’t need sleep like mortals need sleep. I’m always working around the clock, but it’s what I do, and it’s something that I’m used to. It’s not a foreign concept for me,” you reply. 

Venti hums and leans back in his seat. “Your grace, have you ever had a vacation before?” Venti asks, leaning forward and propping his arms on the table in front of him.

You blink at Venti. “A vacation? How does one go on a vacation when there are many things that need attention?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t think I have time for a vacation. After all, a lot of people are relying on me for many, many things. I don’t want to let them down,” you said.

Childe lets out a long sigh and leans in his seat, resting his head on the chair’s top rail, and turns his head to look in your direction. “You know, it’s not a bad thing to take a break from your God duties. You’re a God, yes, but you still need to take a break once in a while,” Childe says.

“And where do you think I should be vacationing then? I hear that mortals like to travel far for vacations or stay home and sleep in,” You said.

Aether smiles at you and shrugs his shoulders. “Your choice of vacation is up to you, your grace. Do you have a place in mind?” Aether asks.

You shake your head. “Not that I know of, Aether,” you sigh.

Aether’s eyes widen, and his cheeks flush pink when he hears you say his name. The color pink slowly travels up to Aether’s ears as he tries to act like it didn’t faze him at all. Aether looks over at the person next to him and smirks triumphantly, his smile so wide that it hurts his cheeks. The men around Aether grumble to themselves and roll their eyes at Aether’s reaction. 

“Although, I do want to visit an island and check up on one of my creations….” you trailed off, bringing the fork up to your lips and eating the spaghetti.

Tighnari’s ears perk up. “Oh? And what island would that be?” Tighnari asks.

You look over at the clock and shake your head. “I would like to go to the island tomorrow. As much as I would love to visit it right now, it’s getting late, and we all need to rest,” you said, grabbing your teacup and taking a sip of the warm herbal tea. 

Heizou’s eyes light up, and he leans forward. “Are you having a vacation day tomorrow?!” Heizou asks with excitement. 

You think for a moment. You’re planning on going to an island tomorrow to visit (well, check up) one of your creations tomorrow. You wouldn’t call it a vacation, technically. But it can be viewed as a vacation since you’re not going to be talking with the people that worship you. Plus, you don’t think the visitation is going to take long; it should take less than an hour or two before you head back to the mainland and continue your duties as a God of all.

“I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to call it. Perhaps maybe call it a reunion rather than a vacation,” you murmur, stroking your chin while in deep thought.

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at you. “A reunion, you say?” Al Haitham mutters, turning to look at the others quizzically, who shrug their shoulders in response. 

“Well, whatever is planned tomorrow, we look forward to keeping you company while you reunite with your creations,” Cyno says, nodding his head.

Dinner continued like how it previously was, everyone conversing with one another while you were deep in your thoughts. You’re nervous about reuniting with your creation and the reactions of the men when they see the creation you want to reunite with. You have created it and released it onto this island, letting it roam around and serve its purpose. You know that people hunt the said creatures for the materials they drop, but the creatures that you create also harm the people that go near them.

Once dinner had ended, everyone went to their designated temporary homes, leaving you alone in your temporary home until the celebration ended. You walk to the bathroom and open the doors, revealing an expansive bathroom with a large skylight. You strip yourself of your robes and step into the bathtub filled with warm water, glaze lilies floating on top, and lit scented candles surrounding the porcelain bathtub.

You scrubbed your body, shampooed, and conditioned your hair. You rinsed your hair with warm water before sinking into the water up to your neck. You close your eyes and lean your head against the rim of the bathtub, taking deep breaths. It’s too quiet, and it feels unnerving to you. Before descending onto Teyvat, you enjoyed the quiet. Although, whenever you look down on Teyvat, the sound of bustling crowds from each region comforts you. 

Before the creation of Teyvat, you were lonely. You didn’t have a companion or a romantic partner; no one else existed except for you, and you didn’t want to feel lonely ever again. So, that’s how Teyvat came to be. You created the archons to rule their respective nations and citizens. You created land, the sea, and the creatures that roam Teyvat for the people to hunt. You give the people of Teyvat plenty of resources that will help them live and thrive on their own without depending on you. 

While they thrived on their own, they still rely on you for many things. You weren’t upset that they prayed to you every night at shrines and dinner tables, praying for a better day and better health. You love answering prayers and performing miracles; you want everyone to be happy, but some things are just out of your control despite you being a God. And now here you are, hoping that someone or something would keep you company.

After you get out of the bath, dry your body, and change into your nightwear, you lay in your bed and stare up at the ceiling. You feel tired from the events that have been going on for almost two weeks now, and yet you can barely get yourself to fall asleep in the comfort of your (temporary) bed. You sit up and rub your temples, begging your body to let you fall asleep so time can go by fast. You lay back down on your bed and close your eyes, hoping that you’ll fall asleep a few minutes or an hour later.

Nothing. You still can’t get yourself to fall asleep. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you toss the blanket off your body and get off your bed. You walk to the balcony of your bedroom, open the doors and step out into the night. You close the balcony door behind you and lean on the wooden railing that lets you gaze out at the beautiful scenery before you. The warm summer night air engulfs you in its arms; you close your eyes when you feel a gentle breeze caress your face. 

“The night is beautiful,” you whisper to yourself, slowly opening your eyes.

A face pops in front of yours from above. “The night is beautiful, isn’t it?” Venti asks, looking down at you with a big smile.

You let out a strained shriek and backed up against the balcony door, looking at Venti with wide eyes. “Venti! Why are you still up!?” You whisper, clutching your heart with your hand, feeling your heart race against your chest.

“Yeah, Venti! Why are you awake at a time like this?!” Kaeya exclaims from a distance.

You hear an annoyed voice calling from afar. “Why are you awake at a time like this, Kaeya?” You look over the balcony only to see Diluc standing beside a bush, glaring at his brother from a distance.

The more you look at your surrounding, the more you realize that every single man is awake and not asleep in their designated temporary home. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, questioning yourself why these men are still awake when it’s almost midnight. Venti sits on the wooden railing of the balcony and smiles at you innocently while watching you intently. You prop your hands on your hips and press your lips into a thin line.

“Oh no. Why does [Y/N] look like a mother that’s about to give us a good scolding?” Kaveh asks.

You exhale through your nose slowly and shake your head. “Boys, it’s getting late out. Aren’t you all supposed to be asleep by now?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at the men.

Scaramouche lets out a scoff before interjecting, “Some of us don’t need sleep. In case you have forgotten, I am a puppet. Eating and sleeping isn’t a necessity for me like how it is for these feeble mortals around me.”

“No offense, little man, but you sound like those defiant children when it’s past their bedtime, and your parents are trying to get you to go to bed,” you hear Itto say.

“Well, if you’re not willing to go to bed, all of you might as well keep me company,” you said. You turn around without saying anything else and walk back into your bedroom, closing the door behind you. 

“Wait, keep you company where?” Gorou asks, his ears drooping when the balcony door closes shut.

A few minutes later, the front door of your “home” opens, and you step out into the night. You have on a thin silk robe. The color is bright red, with gold embellishments lining the hem of the robe. You close the door behind you and approach the men that are slowly making their way toward you.

Once everyone is standing around you, you gesture for them to follow you. “I discovered this lake in the forest the other day. Sometimes when I’m not able to rest, I go there to clear my mind and decompress,” you said, guiding the men to the lake deep in the woods. 

“Your grace, you shouldn’t be wandering off into the woods on your own. What if something happened to you, and we’re not able to protect you?” Zhongli asks, walking beside you.

You giggle softly and shake your head. “Oh, Zhongli. Did you forget that I’m a God myself? I’m sure nothing can harm me,” you said, thinking about the creation that you’ll meet in the morning the next day.

“Just because you’re a God, that doesn’t mean there are malicious people out there willing to hunt you down and hurt you,” Xiao huffs, walking on your left, sandwiching you between him and Zhongli as you continue to guide everyone into the woods.

You hum and nod your head. “You’re not wrong about that, but so far, nothing has happened,” you said.

About ten minutes later, you all arrive in the middle of the woods. In the center is a lake surrounded by little daisies and forget-me-nots. The moon is high in the sky, shining down on the lake. You walk to the giant slab of rock next to the lake and sit down, motioning for the others to come closer.

“What made you discover this place?” Albedo asks, standing beside the slab of rock you’re sitting on.

You snort. “Well, I did create Teyvat. I’m bound to forget what I made and what I didn’t make. This lake, in particular, is something I cannot recall making,” you said. You pull your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs, resting your knees on your chin. “I accidentally discovered this lake while on a walk the other day. There was a lot on my mind, and I was feeling….” you trailed off.

“Feeling?” Ayato tilts his head to the side, his arms over his chest as he waits for you to finish your sentence. 

Lonely. You were feeling lonely, but would it even matter if you told the men about how you’ve been feeling for quite some time now? You’re surrounded by people, but that doesn’t make you feel any less lonely. You have no one to turn to when you want to talk to someone; you have a hard time building friendships with those around you because you don’t know what to say to strengthen these bonds. 

Not only that, people will continue to see you as a divine being instead of viewing you like you’re one of them. How can you form a friendship with people when you’re a God in their eyes, even though you tell them to look at you as if you’re human and to call you by your real name instead of your title?

You shake your head. “Never mind about that. Anyway! I ended up stumbling across this artificial lake, and I like how peaceful it is here. If any of you need a place to clear your mind or to relax and be away from people for a short amount of time, I recommend going here,” you said, patting the slab of rock you’re sitting on. 

“It’s a beautiful place, [Y/N]. I’m happy that you feel comfortable enough to show us this place,” Kazuha says, sitting down beside you and gazing at the moonlit lake.

Silence falls over you and the men; the sounds filling the silence are crickets and the sound of water splashing after a frog hops into the moonlit lake. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, letting your body unwind from the events that took place hours ago. You slowly doze off and lean to the left, your head landing on Kazuha’s shoulders. Your head landing on Kazuha’s shoulders startles you awake, making you sit up suddenly and rub your eyes. 

“If you’re tired, we can take you back to the house,” Dainsleif offers.

You shake your head stubbornly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep in bed. For some reason, it’s easier for me to sleep out here than it is in the room,” you reply. 

You let go of your knees and stretch your legs and arms, letting out a yawn while doing so. You get off of the rock slab and walk over to the lake. The lake is full of life; frogs and tadpoles swimming around in the lake, fishes swimming by the tadpoles, and turtles floating idly by in the water. 

“Perhaps it's the ambiance and sound of crickets that are helping you fall asleep. Some people can’t sleep in silent bedrooms; they need some kind of noise to lull them to sleep,” Dottore says, approaching you from behind.

You slip your shoes off your feet and step into the lake; goosebumps appear on your arms when your feet are submerged in the cold water. You sit on the grass, continuing to let your feet soak in the water. The tadpoles, fishes, and turtles slowly make their way toward you. You dip your finger into the water and let the fishes gently nibble on your fingers; a smile ghosts over your lips.

Even though they’re merely animals, they still recognize you as their creator, and it’s fascinating to you. Capitano stands over you, watching you interact with the animals in the lake while you’re in your little world, completely unaware of how the men are watching you. The gentle breeze blows through your hair, making them flutter and twirl around you, and the goosebumps on your arms remain present. 

A giant coat is draped over your shoulders, bringing you out of your thoughts. You blink and turn to look at the jacket around your shoulders. You look up and see Capitano not wearing his coat and look at him curiously.

You give Capitano a small smile. “You didn’t have to lend me your jacket, Capitano. I’ll be okay; gods can’t get sick,” you reassure the tall Harbinger as you get ready to take the coat off and hand it back to him.

Capitano stops you by shaking his head and raising his hand. “Keep the jacket on. Despite gods not being able to get sick, they still get cold, no?” Capitano asks.

You can almost hear him raise his eyebrows at you after asking his question. You pursed your lips and sighed in defeat, letting your hand fall into your lap and nod your head at his question. You turn back to the lake and continue playing around with the tiny creatures in the lake, lightly petting a turtle’s head if it lets you do so (it almost bit your finger, causing Diluc to give you a lecture on touching animals that don’t want to be petted). 

“Oh, Diluc, there’s nothing to worry about,” you laugh softly, patting Diluc’s head with your left hand while your right hand is caressed in Diluc’s grasp. He looks at your hand closely, making sure that you didn’t get bitten anywhere.

Kaeya chuckles and shakes his head, propping his arm on Diluc’s shoulder with a smirk on his face. “Oh, Diluc. Acting like a mother hen to a God that has created everything in our universe?” Kaeya asks, raising an eyebrow at Diluc with a teasing smile on his face. 

Diluc releases your hand from his grasp, smacks Kaeya’s arm off his shoulders, and shoots a glare over in Kaeya’s direction. “Am I not allowed to worry over [Y/N]’s safety? What if they got hurt?” Diluc asks.

You pout and cup Diluc’s face in both of your hands. Diluc freezes and looks at you with wide eyes. Your pout quickly turns into a smile, and you squish his cheeks together. “You don’t need to worry about me, Diluc! I’ll be fine! Although I do appreciate that you care about my safety,” you said. Diluc continues to stare at you with wide eyes, his cheeks a faint pink under the moonlight. You slowly pull your hands away from his face and give him an awkward smile.

“Hey, [Y/N]! Check this out!” You hear Childe holler from a distance.

You turn your head and see him gesture for you to come over. You give Kaeya and Diluc a brief smile before excusing yourself to walk over to where Childe is standing. After you walk off, Kaeya turns to look at Diluc with a teasing smile on his face. Diluc bristles at Kaeya’s teasing smile before storming off to where the other men are standing, muttering under his breath about Kaeya being annoying and wanting to smack the smile off of Kaeya’s face. Kaeya chuckles and follows after Diluc, his hands propped on his hips, occasionally glancing over in your direction to see what you and Childe are up to. 

“What do you want to show me, Childe?” You ask, stopping beside him.

Childe gets on one knee and thrusts a bouquet of forget-me-nots and daisies in your direction with his head bowed down. “For you, my dear creator!” Childe announces dramatically. 

You giggle and take the bouquet from Childe’s hands. “Thank you, Ajax,” you said, bowing back to him dramatically. 

Childe’s eyes widen, and he looks up at you, his mouth agape, reminding you of a fish out of water. You snort softly and hold the flowers up to your face, shielding the bottom half of your face from his view. Childe begins to stutter as he stands up, his cheeks flushing to a bright pink that travels up to the tip of his ears. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” You tease, poking him lightly in the chest.

Dainsleif and Zhongli approach you and Childe, looking at Childe with amusement. You smile at Dainsleif and Zhongli, waving at them before marveling at the flowers in your hands. 

Zhongli looks at Childe and tilts his head. “Why do you have that look on your face, Childe?” Zhongli asks, a faint smile appearing on his face.

“By that expression on his face, I’m assuming Childe may have a crush on our dear creator,” Dainsleif whispers to Zhongli, smirking when Childe snaps out of his thoughts and glares at the blond man with a beet-red face. 

You perk up and look at the three men curiously. “A crush, you say?” You ask, lightly rubbing the petals between your fingers.

Childe sputters for ten seconds before running off without saying another word. You, Dainsleif, and Zhongli watch him run off to where Ayato and Itto are talking, making sure to avoid eye contact and act as if nothing has happened. 

You chuckle and lightly nudge Dainsleif and Zhongli. “Don’t tease him, you two! I’m sure you two would do the same if Childe were to tease any of you for having a crush on someone,” you chide the two men beside you, clicking your tongue.

Albedo approaches you and shows you the time. You blink and look down at the small watch in his hands. “It’s getting late out. Are you sure you don’t want to get a few hours of sleep before going to the island you wanted to visit?” Albedo asks.

You sigh in defeat. As much as you want to stay up longer, which you can, the men around you are mortal (some are an exception and don’t need sleep as much as mortals do), and they need to get as much sleep as possible or else they’ll be exhausted when you all visit the island. 

“We should all go to bed now,” you announce, grabbing everyone’s attention.

Kazuha looks at you quizzically. “Are you sure? You did mention that you’re not able to fall asleep,” Kazuha says, crossing his arms over his chest and letting the leaf in his hand fly away.

You brush Kazuha’s worries away. “I’ll fall asleep eventually. The ones that need sleep the most are the ones that aren’t immortals. Although I can’t speak on Dainsleif,” you reply, stroking your chin. 

“You better get some sleep. We wouldn’t want to see you all exhausted because you chose to stay up and not go to sleep,” Scaramouche says, narrowing his eyes at you.

Ayato chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’re in the position to tell the creator of all things to get some sleep, Scaramouche,” Ayato says cooly. 

Baizhu chuckles and looks over at Ayato and then at Scaramouche. “I believe that Scaramouche is trying to show the creator that he cares about their health and doesn’t want them to feel tired when we go to the island in a few hours,” Baizhu says.

Thoma’s eyes widen. “A few hours?! What time is it?!” Thoma asks, walking over to Albedo and looking down at the watch in Albedo’s hands. 

When Thoma didn’t know what time it was, Thoma felt fine. He didn’t feel sleepy, and he felt like he could be awake for the next few hours. The minute Thoma looks at the watch in Albedo’s hand to see what time it is, exhaustion suddenly hits him like a sumpter beast. By the look on Thoma’s face, you can already tell that the blond man is on the verge of falling asleep after seeing what time it is.

You clap your hands to grab everyone’s attention. “Let’s all head back and get some rest before our trip in a few hours. Please make sure to get some sleep,” you said, guiding the men out of the woods with them following closely behind. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but that place that [Y/N] showed us would be a nice place to take a nap,” Aether says, pointing to the lake behind them as you all stray farther and farther away from the area. 

Heizou nods his head. “I agree! Hence why [Y/N] nearly fell asleep after we arrived there,” Heizou says, gazing at the back of your head while you converse with the others.

“Maybe that’s where they slept a few days ago after discovering the lake. After all, when Al Haitham tried to wake them up at their temporary home, Al Haitham discovered that they weren’t there and nearly went into a cardiac arrest,” Tighnari says casually. 

Kaveh snickers behind his hand. “I have never seen him so freaked out before. Al Haitham looked like he was going to cry,” Kaveh whispers loudly to the other men around him.

Al Haitham scoffs and glares at Kaveh. Al Haitham reaches over, grabs Kaveh by the ears, and pulls hard until Kaveh’s ears are a deep red and throbbing from the pain. Kaveh hisses and bats Al Haitham’s hands away from his ears.

“I was not going to cry! Of course, I would be worried if our creator just up and disappeared from the face of Teyvat! Wouldn’t you be worried?!” Al Haitham asks, crossing his arms over his chest after Kaveh successfully removes Al Haitham’s hand from his ear. 

Cyno scoffs and rolls his eyes at Al Haitham’s question. “Of course, we would be worried about [Y/N] if they suddenly disappeared. We wouldn’t burst into tears like you,” Cyno shrugs.

Kaveh and Cyno immediately start to snicker with each other, running to where you’re at to avoid Al Haitham’s wrath. Al Haitham sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, tempted to run after them to give those two a piece of his mind. Because Kaveh and Cyno are sticking by your side to avoid Al Haitham’s wrath, Al Haitham refrains himself from marching to them and smacking them with the keys to his and Kaveh’s shared apartment.

“You know, it’s okay to cry sometimes. It’s good for the soul, and it’s a great way to release some stress,” Gorou says casually, walking beside Al Haitham.

Xiao sighs and closes his eyes. “Not everyone is good at expressing their emotions, Gorou,” Xiao mutters.

“Some might even think that showing emotions makes you weak,” Pantalone interjects, looking over at Pierro from the corner of his eyes. The two lock gazes for a second before Pantalone looks away with a little smile on his face. 

Pierro narrows his eyes at Pantalone. “Why did you look at me when you said that?” Pierro asks, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

Pantalone shakes his head and continues walking with his arms behind his back. The smile remains on his face. Pierro sighs and rolls his eyes at Pantalone, and continues to walk beside Pantalone. You all soon arrive at where your and everyone’s temporary homes are. Itto stretches his arms in the air and lets out a loud yawn, covering his mouth with his left hand and rubbing his eyes with the other.

“Man! I cannot wait to get some sleep! I just know I’m going to get an amazing sleep when my head hits the pillow,” Itto says, letting out a loud grunt.

Capitano sighs. “Please keep your voices down. You don’t want to wake up the nearest village by being loud,” Capitano says.

Itto grumbles and sticks his tongue out at Capitano when Capitano has his back turned toward Itto’s direction. You look down at your feet and cover your face with both hands after realizing that you completely forgot to put your shoes back on after dipping your feet into the lake. Great, just great! At least you have extra shoes in the temporary house.

“What’s wrong, [Y/N]?” Kazuha asks, placing his hand on your shoulders.

You laugh nervously and rub the back of your neck with a sheepish smile on your face. “I just realized that I left my shoes back at the lake, but it’s fine since I have extra shoes in the house,” you said. 

“Do you want us to go and get it for you? We’ll make it quick,” Diluc offers.

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay. As I said a second ago, I have extra shoes inside the house,” you said.

Diluc opens his mouth to protest, but Ayato places his hand on Diluc’s shoulder and shakes his head when the two of them make eye contact. Diluc sighs silently and drops the subject when he sees you cover your mouth while yawning. You rub the tears away and grumble under your breath.

“Alright! I will see you all in the morning, and we can take a trip down to the island together,” you said, giving the men a smile.

Dainsleif raises his hand. “You never specified what island we’re going to, [Y/N]. Do you want to tell us where we’re going in the morning, or are you going to keep it a secret until we arrive?” Dainsleif asks.

“Do you want me to tell you the name of the island, or do you want it to be a surprise?” You ask.

“Yes,” they all respond in unison, nodding their heads at your question.

You blink at the men in confusion and scratch your head. “You boys did not answer my question at all,” you deadpan. “Are you answering yes to the first question or my second question?” You ask, pursing your lips while waiting for one of the men to answer your question.

“I am assuming that some of them are saying yes to the first question while others are saying yes to your second question,” Baizhu says.

You let out a sharp sigh, prop your hands on your hips, and tap your right foot on the ground like a parent that is impatient with their indecisive children. “Well, since all of you can’t answer my question, I’ll make the decision for all of you,” you said.

“What?! I wanted to know what island we’ll be going to in the morning!” Itto exclaims, looking at you with disbelief.

Al Haitham huffs, crossing his arms in front of him and looking away. “Well, I wanted the island to be a surprise. I am not impatient like the others and can wait to see where we’ll be going in a few hours,” Al Haitham says.

Childe makes a face at Al Haitham. “No offense, Al Haitham, is it? But why do you act like you have a stick up your ass?” Childe smirks, raising an eyebrow at Al Haitham. 

Al Haitham glares at Childe while Kaveh howls with laughter, hunched over with his hands on his knees while cackling at Childe’s question and Al Haitham’s reaction.

Zhongli releases a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t start anything, Childe. Especially in front of [Y/N],” Zhongli mutters, glaring at Childe from the corner of his eyes.

You crack a smile and shake your head. You don’t think you’ll get tired of these men bickering with one another. You and the men bid each other goodnights before retreating to your respective temporary homes for the night. You collapse onto your bed and close your eyes, feeling yourself drift off to sleep. 

You wake up to the sound of something hitting the balcony window. You sit up on your bed and stare at the window with bleary eyes. You hear the clank again and something falling on the wooden balcony, clattering on the wood. You remove the blanket and walk to the patio, not thinking much of what’s hitting the glass. You assume the noise was an acorn or pinecone that fell from somewhere and landed on the balcony—no big deal.

You unlock the balcony doors and step outside. You look around, searching for the item that hit the balcony window, only to find nothing. You furrow your eyebrows and rub the sleep from your eyes with the heel of your hands. While trying to get yourself to wake up, you suddenly feel something hard hit your forehead, causing you to stumble back, and your hands fly up to touch the area that was hit. The object that hit your head clatters on the ground loudly after making contact with your forehead.

“Ow,” you hiss. “What was that?” You grumble, eyes scanning the balcony floor for the object that hit your forehead. 

“You idiot! You just hit [Y/N] in the head with the rock!” Kaveh hisses, smacking Itto upside of his head.

Itto grumbles and rubs the spot where Kaveh has struck him. You walk to the railing and lean on it, looking down at the men who are looking up at you. You sigh and lay your head on the wooden railing. You certainly did not expect to get hit in the forehead by a rock that is thrown by Itto, but you shouldn’t be surprised.

You prop your head up with your hand and look down at them from where you’re standing. “What a lovely way to wake me up, boys,” you snort.

“We didn’t know how to wake you up, so we went with this decision because it’s fun and romantic!” Venti says, smiling up at you innocently.

You raise your eyebrows at the men teasingly. As much as you wanted to tease them about the romantic gesture, you pointed at the door and chuckled. “So, instead of knocking on the door or ringing the doorbell, you guys chose to throw pebbles at the balcony window?” you ask.

“We told them to knock on the door, but they insisted on throwing pebbles at your balcony window. I’m not sure why other than it being a romantic gesture,” Cyno mutters, looking over at Venti and Itto, who smiles at him innocently. 

“You look like you just woke up,” Kaveh comments, looking at your bedhead with an amused look on his face.

You mumble and run your fingers through your hair to fix your hair. “That’s because I did! I was exhausted, but the pebble hitting me in the forehead definitely woke me up,” you reply.

“You should get ready! It’s almost nine in the morning, and we’re debating whether everyone should eat breakfast before going to the island or bring something with us to eat while we’re there,” said Tighnari.

You hum to yourself and tap on your chin. Since you’re going on an island devoid of human life, you think it's best to stop by somewhere to have breakfast before going to the island. “Let’s stop by Inazuma City for breakfast, then we’ll visit the island after,” you suggest.

“Alright, sounds good to me! We’ll wait for you to get ready, and then we’ll head off to Inazuma City for breakfast,” Aether smiles up at you.

You give Aether a smile before walking back into your bedroom, closing the balcony door behind you. You quickly got dressed, brushed your teeth, combed your hair, and walked down the stairs to the front door, where the men were waiting for you. You put on your shoes and walk out of the door, making sure that you don’t look like you are rushing (even though you are). 

“Ready for breakfast in Inazuma City?” Ayato asks.

You nod your head, trying to act like you aren’t breathless at all. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, smiling at Ayato and the men around him. “So, any hints on where we’ll be having dinner?” You ask.

Heizou pokes you in the ribs lightly, making you jolt at the feeling. “That will be a surprise since you won’t tell us where what island we’re going to today,” Heizou says, smiling at you.

You scrunch your nose up and sigh. “Alright, fair enough,” you huff, ruffling Heizou’s hair and earning a laugh from Heizou.

At Inazuma City, the minute you step foot into the nation of eternity, you’re almost hounded by the citizens of Inazuma. Before the citizens could hound you, the men were quick to form a barrier around you to prevent the citizens of Inazuma from surrounding you and gazing at you like a child in a candy store. You smile at them shyly and wave at them while the men escort you to the restaurant where all of you will be having breakfast. Upon entering the small restaurant, you all sit at the back of the restaurant for privacy.

“I completely forgot that [Y/N] is a God that is worshipped by all,” Gorou says, slightly smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand.

Venti laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry, Gorou. You’re not the only one that forgot about that, too,” Venti reassures Gorou.

“I think we should eat our breakfasts quickly and then leave, or else the people of Inazuma will spread the word that [Y/N] is here, and it’ll make it harder for us to leave the restaurant and city,” said Thoma.

Breakfast went by fast, which you’re not surprised at all because while eating breakfast, the commotion outside of the restaurant was getting loud. You end up requesting a to-go box to pack the unfinished breakfast and take it to the island you and the men are about to visit. At first, the restaurant owner informed you that they typically don’t let customers take home the leftovers, but you’re able to convince the restaurant owners to let you take them. 

“Are you ready to go to the island? I would show the way, but I’m not sure what island we’re going to,” Kaeya says, walking beside you as you all walk to the nearest waypoint while trying not to be spotted by the citizens of Inazuma. 

You sigh dramatically. “Alright, I’ll tell you all what island we’re going to,” you said.

The men around you cheer, making you snort. You’re not entirely sure why they’re cheering, but it’s adorable! Although you’re not prepared to see the reactions on their faces when you tell them the name of the island you’re all going to visit once you reach the nearest waypoint.

“We’re going to visit Tsurumi Island for a few hours, then we’ll head back to the mainland to continue the day,” you said, turning your back to the men, not wanting to see the reactions on their faces.

Xiao stares at the back of your head. “Tsurumi Island?” Xiao mutters, looking over at the Inazuman men and Aether.

Aether looked like he was going to faint at any given moment. Aether has explored Tsurumi Island before, and he sure as hell did not want to return to that island ever again. But since it’s the island that you’re planning on visiting, Aether is mentally praying that nothing goes wrong and that everything is fine and dandy.

You turn to Aether and poke him lightly on the forehead. “You know I can hear your prayers, right?” You ask, smiling at Aether.

Scaramouche leans to Aether. “How could you forget about that?” Scaramouche whispers, snickering when Aether elbows him in the stomach.

“Something tells me that we might need to bring an emergency first aid kit, just in case,” Albedo says.

Baizhu chuckles and pulls out a large first aid kit. “I’m already ahead of you,” says Baizhu.

When you all arrive at Tsurumi Island, everyone expects to see an island full of fog and spirits; what they do not expect is to be taken to the lower part of Tsurumi Island. Itto’s eyes widen, and he looks around; the site is suddenly familiar to him other than Aether.

“Oh no,” Itto laughs nervously, his eyes darting around to look for the familiar creature that resides on the island.

“Why are you saying ‘oh no’ like that?” Al Haitham asks, narrowing his eyes at the oni, who continues to survey his surroundings nervously.

Aether makes a face and lets out a sharp exhale. “You’ll see,” Aether says, bobbing his head in your direction.

The men stop on the side and watch you approach the center, unsure whether they should stop you from walking any further or not. You’re a God, the creator of all things, and you’re untouchable! But are you really untouchable? You step closer to the strange black-yellow rift in the air; your heart is punching you in the ribs while your mind is racing. Would he still recognize you?

“[Y/N], I don’t think you should be walking any closer,” Cyno says, his polearm materializing in his hands.

Your eyes remain on the rift. “I’ll be fine, Cyno. He’s not going to hurt me,” you said.

“But how do you know that he won’t hurt you?” Dainsleif demands.

You reach your hand out to touch the rift, but before the tip of your fingers can touch the rift, the rift immediately opens in front of you. You slowly backed away and gazed at the Golden Wolflord emerging from the rift, your hair whipping around your face the more the Golden Wolflord flew around you.

“Why does [Y/N] want to see that thing in the first place? That thing almost killed me many times!” Aether exclaims, covering his ears as the wind howls around them.

Heizou laughs nervously. “Shouldn’t we warn them not to touch the Golden Wolflord?” Heizou asks, looking over at the others nervously.

“I think it’s too late for that,” Pierro mutters.

Heizou slowly turns around and sees you petting the Golden Wolflord and nuzzling your face against its snout. Heizou and the men blinked at what they were seeing in front of them. The way you’re treating the monstrous beast in front of you as if it’s some puppy was mind-boggling. Your hands caress the Golden Wolflord’s face, nuzzling your cheek against his face while talking to it like it’s a baby.

“I haven’t seen you in so long! Look how much you’ve grown! Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” You said.

The Golden Wolflord whimpers softly and licks your face. That is something you don’t see a Golden Wolflord do to those who dare to step foot in its territory. You laugh and hug his face, petting his head and running your fingers through his fur. 

“You’re still as cute as ever! I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you sooner; I was busy,” you said softly. You cup its face in your hands and look at it in the eyes with a small frown on your face. “I’ll try to visit you more often, okay? Maybe once a week; how does that sound?” You ask, smiling at the Golden Wolflord.

The Golden Wolflord rumbles and nuzzles his face against yours, closing its eyes in contentment. You smile and kiss the Golden Wolflord’s forehead. You turn around and gesture for the men to come closer, only for them to shake their heads in response and take another step back. You chuckle to yourself and continue to shower the beast’s head. While you did claim to have created the Golden Wolflord, you technically did, but at the same time, you didn’t. The Golden Wolflord is Gold’s creation, but you created Gold, and Gold created the Golden Wolflord. Therefore you had some kind of contribution to the Golden Wolflord’s existence. 

You sigh and rest the side of your head on its head. “You must have been so lonely without me, huh? I know how you feel. I was alone before I created Teyvat, and I continue to be alone. While I have people that worship me from all over Teyvat, I still feel lonely,” you whisper.

“Do you think that thing understands what [Y/N]’s saying?” Kaveh whispers to the others.

Tighnari nods his head. “Oh, he understands [Y/N],” Tighnari says.

Remember how you convinced the restaurant owner in Inazuma to let you take the leftovers? Well, you and the men ate the breakfast with the Golden Wolflord, keeping you all company. Well, they ate from a safe distance while you and the Golden Wolflord kept each other company. After the visitation with the Golden Wolflord, you and the men return to the mainland. When you all returned to the mainland, you couldn’t help but feel sad and lonelier than you did before.

You didn’t realize that you had stopped in your tracks when you heard Albedo call out to you.

Albedo walks up to you and stops in front of you, gazing at you worriedly. “Are you alright?” Albedo asks. You watch the men slowly approach you and Albedo, unsure whether they should join in or not.

You hesitate for a moment and purse your lips. Should you tell them what’s wrong? You’re a God, the creator of Teyvat, and everything in its existence. You should be strong and not like how you are right now. Would they shame you for feeling this way? For not being the God that they have been worshipping since the beginning of time? After all, you did want to form a friendship with everyone, and you didn’t like feeling lonely. It’s one of the reasons why you created Teyvat and everything that resides on it.

“You’re overthinking again,” you think to yourself.

Zhongli walks to you and places a hand on your shoulder. “You can tell us whatever is bothering you; there’s nothing to be afraid of or be ashamed of,” Zhongli says.

“You all may be wondering why I have decided to visit the Golden Wolflord,” you said. “I didn’t create the Golden Wolflord, but I did have some kind of contribution to its existence. He has been on that island for who knows how long, and it must’ve been really lonely for him, and I can relate to him,” you said.

“What are you trying to say exactly?” Pantalone asks, cocking his head to the side.

You let out a frustrated and embarrassed huff of breath. “Long story short: I am lonely like the Golden Wolflord. I am trying my best to form friendships with you all, and I feel like I am failing because every time I try to form a connection, I fail miserably,” you said.

“A God bad with words and feelings….” Venti says, stroking his chin. 

You hunch over and place your hands on your knees. “It’s so embarrassing! I created you all and everything around us, and here I am, struggling with expressing my emotions and inner thoughts,” you cover your hot face with your hands.

“It’s okay to struggle with that. I mean, have you seen Diluc? I think he’s way worst than you,” Kaeya says, smiling at you.

Diluc slowly turns to look at Kaeya, his eyebrows narrowing. You let out a weak laugh and sigh, rubbing your temples. For the past few days, you have been trying (and struggling) to form a friendship with these twenty-five men because of how bad you are when it comes to talking about your feelings and what’s going on in your mind.

“Hey, if you want to be friends with us, you don’t need to ask! The minute you told us to call you by your real name instead of ‘your grace,’ consider us as best friends!” Itto says, throwing his arms around your shoulders and hugging you.

Childe pushes Itto from you and gives you a suave smile. “Or, we can be more than that,” Childe wiggles his eyebrows at you. Zhongli, Venti, and Dainsleif deadpan at Childe’s suggestion. You stare at Childe cluelessly and look at the other men and back at Childe. 

“Super best friends?” You ask.

Diluc rolls his eyes, grabs Childe by the back of his head, and shoves him out of the way. Childe stumbles and shoots a glare in Diluc’s direction, steam coming from his ears.

“Let’s start as friends first, then we can decide on the rest. Therefore, please ignore whatever the ginger idiot was implying,” Diluc says, giving you a small smile.

You smile at Diluc and tackle him into a hug, catching the redhead off guard. Diluc looks down at you with wide eyes before awkwardly hugging you back. A soft smile appears on Diluc’s face while he rubs your back. You sigh in Diluc’s grasp, letting yourself relax in his arms. You finally won't feel alone for the first time in thousands of years.

Note: It's funny how I said that I don't know how I feel about writing this fic, and this story ends up being almost 11k words long. I don't count the words myself; I always type out my fanfics in Google Docs and transfer them over to Tumblr and AO3 (apparently, some people thought I counted the words myself 😭). My winter quarter starts on Monday, the 9th of January, and I have no idea how that'll affect my posting schedule. I hope it doesn't negatively impact it 🥲 For those who want to be on my new taglist, here is the link to the taglist [Genshinluvr Updated Taglist Form]! Please make sure that you allow people to mention you/tag you in posts, or else I won't be able to tag you in any future fanfics! Anyway, for those who are new here or are returning readers, I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @alhaitham-scribe, @xyji, @kazuhasmuse, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @kwelibeeery, @yumakj, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @honeybedo, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @@living-my-best-life5, @chalksdreams, @rinswriting, @thelost-in-time, @mxn14, @ventisweetheart, @unwantedsleep, @kattythesimp, @hispasian-otaku, @Orah-s, @juuuuuj101010, @nxns3nse (If your name has been crossed out, it means that your account did not show up when I try to tag your account. Please make sure to allow people to mention you and tag you in posts and make sure the spelling, symbols and numbers are correct)

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