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mourndust · 6 hours ago

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‧₊˚♡ DAYWALKER // vampire!cait x hunter!vi x reader

hiiiiii, the pool results are loud and clear, so here it is my little promised piece. this here contains smut so please, 18+ minors dni, dead dove do not eat, mentions of murder, voyeurism, vaginal sex, strap-on cait is my vibe (give me more top!cait now), descriptions of blood, spit, fingering, oral sex — it's clear this is a threesome so well. reader is caitlyn's pretty pupil and we love our creator. also, yes this is smut but it is lesbian drama, that being said, there's a lot of jealousy, attempts of murder, treason, toxic relationships (pls they are vampires and i'm no emily dickinson), english is not my first language, so any mistakes i’m sorry. reblog, likes and comments are loved, enjoy the read!

you know there's something off with caitlyn from almost two weeks before the incident.

you don't really know what it is exactly, but since she made you take the bite almost six years ago you know it deep in your chest as your emotions are connected to her, a constant thought that lingered in her mind whether she likes it or not — the countess is hiding something, and it makes you sick in the stomach cause fuck: when did you two began to keep secrets from each other? more than a partner you’re a part of her; caitlyn’s blood runs in your veins, keeping your twisted nature alive each passing second, making her irrevocably, more than just a creator.

"you look worried baby, what is it?" you're so invested in knowing what she's doing in the shadows that you openly ask her, placing a soft kiss over her shoulder as if to calm her nerves down: it has to be something far more sordid than what you two did every time when it comes to feeding cause she has the nerve to stay silent even when the vampire knows every corner of her own mind it's actually infected by you.

she hides it anyway, and mad does not cover the whole emotion you're feeling in your chest when you're still trying to discover what the fuck is going on by the end of the week. you're nothing to her in the matter of the word — yes. she's your creator, and it's an unbreakable bond you'll always share. you'll always have to be close to her since she aches, physically for your company, but she's not yours in the sense of the word, and you're not her's either.

did she found another vampire to rely her pleasure on? the thought eats your brain like a parasite on a saturday night. the moon is hiding in the sky as the clock hits in the middle of the silence marking the hour: six in the morning and you find yourself pushing the thick door of your room to slide in the cold spaces of the castle instead of sleeping. a light breeze hits your uncovered shoulder, and you're quick to become one with the dark nature of the place you call home.

it's a lack of respect to appear in the chambers of your count uninvited, but your feet do not listen, compelled to pay a visit to her without a proper plan: maybe demand an answer? bend caitlyn against that expensive desk she spends so much time in? make her admit there’s something off with her lately while she's weak and pliable? somehow you'll make clear you are bounded to her, that in the end of all, she's yours.

and as the dark engulfs you, the path to caitlyn's room seem an eternity in the long hallways connecting the whole property. silent as you can only hear the sound of your footsteps against the marble of the ground, the whistle of the wind almost whispering to you until you can see her door at the end of the hallway. your feet come to a complete stop as your fingers tighten against the fabric of your night gown when you can notice the smell it in the air like a disease — a human.

the countess is hiding a human.

if you'd had a heart, it would probably race against the sudden news. a few more doors and you'll be right in front of her room like multiple times before, yet this time completely different than any other day: was she feeding without you? was she playing with her food like you two always did?

deep down, you know what it is. you can hear it too. playing dumb like that wasn't the moans of your countess, like that isn't the subtle smell of sex leaking through the barely opened door of her room. you stand close to the gap not daring to touch the door, keeping your whole body at a safe distance before giving in an just lean.

there it is. the fever in your own body as a response to how caitlyn's spread open in the mattress of her room with a fucking human feasting on her cunt, taking your spot as she's knees deep into the irregular floor, pink hair, and tattooed back full in display, acting like she owned the place.

the countess is fucking a human.

and it's not any human when you pay attention to the girl's details, the mark of a vampire hunter resting in the skin of her lower back, hiding in between the mechanic design you look for a while.

your countess is fucking a damn hunter.

she can be killed by the high council if they knew the treason she's committing in her own castle — on vampire ground, but instead of leaving, of making your creator aware you're there, you stay right where you are, peeking through the door unable to look away.

something is not right with you, all sorts of freak when you keep looking, drinking in the sight of the human making delightful sounds deep between the countess legs, hands wrapped up in her tights as she pulls her closer to her face — caitlyn’s a fucking mess.

of course she is. dark blue hair spread on the pillows, back arched and opened legs like a fucking offer to her, like the count did multiple times with you.

caitlyn’s moans fill the room, and you feel filthy by looking, but you cannot dare to move away, even when you try to avoid that feel of ache between your legs as you’re painfully aware of how good the hunter’s making her feel.

you’re connected, isn’t that right? it’s both a curse and a blessing when you swear you can feel it, the long and wide licks of the haunter’s tongue, her calloused hands trailing up her body like a map she’s just taunting, land she’s just discovering. man, you want to hate it all — but hate it’s a strong word when you feel so fucking good there at only inches, damping your panties cause the scene itself could turn on even a damn nun.

and you’re annoyed. hella annoyed as you’re puzzled in between shouting or still enjoying the view stupidly horny, but even annoyed, you don’t dare to move a muscle, blending with the dark as a red hue appears in your irises: maybe you could kill the human. end up the threat and remind the count what a hunter should be to her: food.

“tell me what you want-” you hear the pink haired talk — “please. wanna do good f’you cupcake.”

has caitlyn been fucking the hunter for a while? your mind turns fuzzy as they go, not really aware of your presence as you lick your lips, craving some blood to warm up the insides of your cold soul, the fire slowly spreading in the pit of your stomach. you should be making a scene, demanding your creator to give you explanations when she, herself, has said multiple times hunter's are not to be trusted, but instead, your feet seem glued to the marble floor, just thinking for a while how much you'd love to kneel too. be good.

you try to understand what it is with this human. maybe that's the only rational explanation you can come up with — you're looking because you need to know: what does the hunter has, that you don't?

"your tongue, vi" the count answer in a ragged voice. "your fingers- please."

she's close. the human knows it, you know it. it's like a shared secret. you've seen her like that before, pleading, erratic, asking for more when she can even handle what she's already receiving, yet vi, looks pleased by it, curling her fingers inside her leaky cunt until the sounds you can hear are nothing but a nasty symphony of her arousal dripping down the hunter's hand.

"listen to you, cait" the sound of her voice is muffled against her, leaving kisses over her tights, biting the count's skin pleased with the whole situation — "you're sucking me in baby, 'can feel your pretty pussy squeezing me already, gonna cum, cupcake?"

your hands shake, and you wonder, deep in the confines of your mind, if it would be so wrong to finger yourself too. eyes narrowing in pure envy when caitlyn's mumbling some stupid bullshit about feeling so full, of her fingers curving just right to rub on that spot she fucking loves. her body spasms while the hunter's taking care of the mess she just made, slowly, gently, almost to herself more than in search of her desire. like she need to have just a little more.

it's not the worst. the worst comes when caitlyn's pulling her, tossing her to bed to straddle her lap, vi's hands on the countess ass — almost controlling her movements when she's trying to make her move, ride her tight to come undone once again.

and caitlyn's a greedy bitch. your creator has always been a greedy bitch, so it's not a surprise when she's making full usage of her force to keep the hunter prisoner under her tights like it's nothing, towering against her broad figure to let her fingers roam against her naked form, the silver jewelry of vi's pierced nipples that has your creator licking her lips in need.

fuck caitlyn. fuck that nice feeling in your chest being so connected to her, the one that mingles with the pleasure in your guts, coils of desire forming even when you try to push them aside, tempted to join in like looking at them is not really perverted already as the countess uses her bare hand to keep her steady against the sheets, ethereal in contrast to the poor illumination of the night coming to an end.

"feed from me," something stirs in you when hearing the hunter asking for something that she should be terrified about "somewhere they won't see- bite me." the smell of the blood makes you dizzy as caitlyn leans against her skin, kissing her with nothing but longing before her teeth sink in without a previous warning, and the sound the human makes — god. you crave to hear it again as the countess pushes her fingers against the wound she made beneath her left breast, allowing her blood to run freely as she licks on every drip.

it's hard to resist. and you know now why cait's keeping her. sweet scent, warm blood, devastating pussy-eater. it makes sense when vi's whimpering against the cold touch of your countess, how the vampire is so invested in something that could get her killed. the hunter's blood fill the air of the room, placing itself beneath your nostrils as you breathed, not because you need it, but because of the delicious smell of her blood.

she's risking her life because she's damn worth it. every. single. drop.

and as vi whimpers, lightheaded, you seem to also make a sound, cause suddenly the count's tense before looking over her shoulder, cold gaze now glued to the spot you used to be, scanning the place as she could smell your scent disappearing on the wind.

you can hear the footsteps even after you're long gone, going back to your room so fast to slide in the fresh sheets of your bed, turning off the candles in hope that would deceive your creator into believing you're deep in your sleep.

count kiramman is ruthless. you know that very well as you close your eyes mere seconds before your creator is resting against your door frame, hands crossed against her chest as she simply studies you, like you two aren't connected and she won't know in the end you've seen her, that you were there.

it feels like a test when she stays there for five-eternal-fucking-minutes, watching if you move closely before going back to her chambers in silence.

you know she knows. you know it, cause you can feel the hunter's hands all over your body too.

being connected is both a blessing and a curse, wasn't it? as a young vampire, you didn't really care about it until now.

there's no way caitlyn don't know.

even in the next days when she acts all happy and nice with you — it's all because she knows it. she knows you were there, that you knew about her biggest treason to her own kind.

was it an act? you've heard about creators killing their protégées, making fun of the idea before experiencing it first hand: will the countess kill you? she has a temper for sure, but enough to get rid of you? never. despite all tries to calm yourself down, you find yourself looking from over your shoulder multiple times in plain dark, barely sleeping through the day as you're too worried to wake up to her impaling you during the broad daylight.

it's rational that you're hurt, rational about your plans to get rid of the threat that is compromising your comfortable life, so you stay far from the countess as much as you can, surprising her to the point she's now questioning your presence like she didn't get you're heartsick ever since you find her with a hunter.

fuck. why does she have to be like that? why does she always want to have it all?

it pisses you off how she’s acting like everything's okay, like she cannot feel it too, that ache in your chest whenever you're close. you can smell the hunter's perfume like a new scent on caitlyn and you fucking hate it every time. furiously whenever you catch it, making up excuses about random things to avoid the count as you go to your room, plotting more plans that would fail miserably to just- kill her.

it becomes a need soon. so much you start to dream about it, the need to feast on your lover's pet only to leave her dry in front of her eyes — to hell if caitlyn's mad.

"i need to speak to you," the count's dark blue hair shines thanks to the light of the candles in your room, taking a look of the insides as you stand in front of her, barely covered in a white sheer nightgown that caitlyn feels it makes you even more desirable to look at, exposed cleavage as her eyes followed the moles that got lost in between your breasts—. "in my room."

"i know i've been weird lately. and i was hoping we could talk," she tries to convince you after seeing your annoyed expression: is that all it takes? a sexy outfit and some indifference? — "i'm not really asking."

the power she has over you must be studied, cause you simply nod as she leaves, making you promise you'll be in her room in an hour not a minute past midnight. so usually, that would mean a good old fuck, but now? now you're not really sure about what's going to expect you in that room.

will she be honest for once? admit she's been engaging relations with a hunter? putting them all at danger? it's stupid how torn she makes you, but you're standing there forty minutes later cause you're weak, and you'd hear anything she'd have to say not because you have to, but because you need to hear it.

so as you enter, it caughts you off-guard cause the hunter is there over her bed and you think it should all be an illusion but her gaze seems buried in you, very aware of your presence there in the count's room — "is this a tramp?" you ask, and the human's laughing as she props herself over her elbows, looking at the whole scene as if she's waiting for the next instructions.

"sit down," caitlyn’s voice is more of a command one than a plea. the tone she uses to make you do things, compelled by a force that's pulling you to the chair of her desk before you could even understand her words — "in the bed."

the scent of vi's blood is nothing but alluring as the hunter stays at a considerable distance when you both share the count's bed. naked shoulder on display for you to lean forward and just-

"you seem to forget about the fact that i can hear what you're thinking, love" the countess accent is a caress against your cheek, a gentle touch as she speaks.

"never" you admit as the vampire moves to stand between your legs, fingers tightening against your jaw to make you look at her.

"speak louder."

"i said never."

"then you think i'd never knew you were looking at us standing outside of my room like a pervert? that i'd forget easily?"

her tone is like a million cutting glasses in your skin, a taste of her temper as you blush, probably for the blood you consumed earlier, ashamed of her words — "you- you're fucking a hunter in vampire soil. risking it all for a human!"

"but you stayed to look, huh?" caitlyn demands, squeezing your cheeks harshly as her grip tightens each passing time — "stayed to see me cum like a dirty slut. leaved the place stinking with your fucking mess, made you soak your panties right in the hallways and you thought i- we were going to let it pass?"

she's cocky when right. enjoying the fact she has the last word as usual — "answer me."

"yes" you admit shamelessly — "i know i shouldn't have look."

“yes what?”

“yes count kiramman.”

"thing is, we're not really mad at that, aren't we?" she asks as the human shakes her head with a hum. "what i'm mad at is having you spent the whole week acting like resentful minx. this whole act of direspect.”

"this human can get everyone killed my count. you know it."

this time it’s the hunter who’s openly laughing when hearing you, shaking her head unfazed — “no one is finding this out, troublemaker. no one is going to kill anyone, don’t have to worry about me sweetheart.”

you look at her like she’s fucking crazy, staring at her freckles until you come across her blue eyes, trying to know if she’s going to jump to kill you anytime. however, you grow distracted by her features, finding in the rough exterior something magnetic that calls you in, a sudden need to touch her naked shoulder to leave a sloppy kiss to her bare skin.

“you like her too,” caitlyn seem pleased to look, staring down at your figure seated in the corner of her bed. there’s no explanation to how her words make you feel, how her voice tickles something in your brain — “i know you do. such a fucking mess for a hunter. can smell your cunt dripping just like before.”

“i don’t-” it’s pathetic how you try to hide it, how you’re so invested in a plain lie you don’t fully believe. violet’s smell is like a knife straight to the chest as she’s there, expectant, and fuck, the hunter’s gaze is so intense soon after you can feel it somehow, blue irises drinking in the sight of that lacy night gown that’s showing enough cleavage to let her wondering sight study you.

“no more lies,” the count says, shaking her head in disapproval — “i want your full honest or else i’ll get rid of you and your poor conduct.”

it’s impossible not to shiver when vi’s lips come in contact with your naked skin without a previous warning, soft kisses like the ones you wanted to give her before in your very own shoulder— “c’mon bloodsucker, don’t be mean. you’re a pretty vampire aren’t you?”

“yes- i’ll beheave” you answer — “i’ll be good i promise-”

the hunter’s words sends shiver down your spine as caitlyn’s grip in your jaw tightens for a second time, making you look up to her as the human continues on her own bubble. the feeling of her soft kisses is a huge contrast with the vampire’s cold fingers, and good fuck. you know you’re in trouble when you’re craving the warm feeling of the human’s skin, the blood pumping on her veins so close to you — “kiss her.”

the countess gaze search yours as her command lingers in the air, and you look like you don’t believe it at first: kiss her personal toy? did you hear that right? — “you know you want to. kiss her.”

violet’s eyes change to a darker shade of blue almost expectant of your next move, and you’re there, trying to remember she’s the enemy, jeopardized in your own feelings: why do you want to kiss her too? your fingers trace the shape of her lips, lingering on her scars as the hunter’s breathing hitches on her throat: weren’t you about to kill her? weren’t you ready to claim the count as yours? finish all the threats? it doesnt make sense now how a creature made to kill is so invested now in pulling you closer just to steal a deep, demanding kiss.

it’s a game. you’re nothing but a prime killer, top tier in the food pyramid and the human’s there, looking at you with pleading eyes like you’re not remotely near to be a predator. and you want it. pouring in your chest like a long lost need, something you’re craving yet somehow never realized it before.

vi’s lips are soft under her scars, pushing her tongue against yours in a saliva-filled kiss, wondering hands as she steals a moan — oh how quick she forgot you’ve sworn on killing her too! how quick she forgot she’s trained to kill you and the countess as she seems very into the kiss now, leaving a sweet scent in the air that mingles with her own arousal.

it’s almost a victory when you can smell her soaking panties, a trophy you’re planning to keep on your memories as you seek for more.

“aren’t you a charmer?” violet says sharing a look with the countess as if looking for permission — “are all vampires like this? so hot and bothered so easily?”

“no,” you answer sharply, almost offended — “most would kill you. pretty things like you should be destroyed.”

“don’t kill her” the count says as the hunter squeezes your breast when she notices how you’re not pushing away but in, kissing her until she’s choking on something so basic as breathing — “no feeding until i say so, get it? use your words and tell me you understand.”

“yes,” you soon shake your head, looking at vi’s chest filling up with air at the lack of it— “ i understand, no feeding- i’ll do it.”

“that’s more like it,” caitlyn praises as you’re crawling over on your hands on knees to corner the human against the bed, caging in between the mattress and your own body — “wasn’t so hard, see?”

you want to say something, deny it even, but fuck, how could you when you’re so lost in a hunter? bitting her with just enough force to make her body shiver in need, a tease when her reactions to you are like a vice. it’s not your fault when you’re breaking the bandages of her chest, tearing them appart without really making force.

“hey-” violet’s ready to whine before you lean against her breasts, squeezing them between your hands before sucking her nipple in, taking special time on marking her down as if you wanted to rip her off caitlyn’s property and make it your own. the barbell of her pierced breasts only seems to add to her pleasure as she seems to forgot about what she’s going to bark about, a competition almost as the countess makes you stay on your hands and knees, pushing you further into vi’s tits only to make your ass lift up in the perfect position.

“you’ve been nothing but a problem, forgetting about your place” her words are slurred as she moves you in the way she wants you to be, ass up, face buried in the hunter’s chest before spanking you until her whole hand is visible on your ass-cheeks — “should i remind you that i made you? that you’re mine too?”

you’re too zoned out to answer, kisses travelling from vi’s chest to her stomach as the sharp angles on her body now melt away against your lips, traces of visible saliva on her skin as she parts her legs like an invitation, leaving enough space for you to settle between them.

fuck her. the hunter knows what she’s doing, looking down to you as she moans and writhe, silently asking for more like good human pet.

“i can see now why caitlyn’s keeping you” you say, fingers purposefully moving now to reach her black underwear — “you got this nice smell on you and fuck. i could devour you whole, you don’t really understand.”

you aren’t aware of your ass being at the count’s behest, however, the strap is around cait’s waist as she uses her right hand to cup your cunt like it’s hers cause it is. and in her dingy room, her index fingers teases over the fabric of your underwear only to dampen her finger with it, looking, interested, how you’re pulling vi’s panties to the side, licking your own finger to just tease her entrace too.

she’s sensitive as you spit against your fingers, the feeling of your slick saliva in her sensitive sex as you look up to her, the blush on her face that matches her hair and makes your stomach do this thing you don’t even know it can do, a warm feeling spreading all over.

pink pussy on display, a rough slap on your ass and suddenly, caitlyn’s pulling down your panties to your knees, middle finger teasing your entrance without really going in, angling you down to where she needs you to be— “eat her up,” she breathes out, coaxing you into doing what you’ve been craving to since the beggining. “go on. feast on her pretty cunt, want to see you enjoying it.”

it alleviate all your aches, the weight on your back, the worry you’ve been going through the week, the anger you’ve been gathering on the pit of your stomach as the count buries her finger in your aching hole, pushing it inside until her knuckles are brushing against your core and you’re arching your back, presenting your ass to her without dismissing your current job.

she’s elegant even where her actions are nothing but filthy, taking her time in stretching you out as you sink in between vi’s legs.

it’s desesperation what invades you, a depravity that makes you surrender to her, to both of them. moans are muffled against the hunter’s cunt and suddenly you’re eating her up like a meal, tongue rounding her clit in slow, controlled strokes. “fingers-” vi whines, arching her back as she searches for more of your mouth, of your fingers stretching her open without fully sinking in — “please, please use your fingers.”

“so pretty when you beg-” you say, becoming a fucking mess against caitlyn’s fingers itself, moving against her digits to make them reach deeper as your own do the same, burying them in the human’s cunt, mixing up your caresses with your tongue until you can only taste her, flavour filling up your bucal cavity like candy — “ngh-fuck. you’re so warm-”

it’s making your mind go dizzy as vi’s pussy suck up your fingers, delving deeper as they curl inside her dripping cunt, arousal now dripping to your palm making you satisfied as ever.

it’s such a fucking sight.

trapped between the hunter’s pussy and the count’s cock she’s pushing against your leaking cunt, finally burying herself until it reaches that nice, velvety spot you enjoy almost too much so the pleasure becomes unbearable, her fingers leave your channel to be replaced with the her dick, making you look from over your shoulder as profanities leave your lips in response — she loves it. the vampire gets off your messy look, your swollen lips as you finger violet stupid, the blue rubber cock dragging along your walls, pushing against your cervix to take what she wants.

“such a whore, taking me all the way in,” she mutters “good girl letting me fuck you like this, sucking my cock in- keep eating her, c’mon, you’re losing focus baby.”

and god she’s so right. vi’s looking at you through half lidded eyes, lost in the squelch sound as your fingers quickly fuck her, curling inside as she seems interested now in the way caitlyn’s pistoning her hips against your sore sex, pushing her thumb against the entrance of your pucker hole, teasing you only cause she knows you like far more than you’re willing to admit.

connected. you are connected to the count so hell— caitlyn swore she can feel your walls clenching against her dick, your arousal dripping down your tights to stain the sheets of her bed, your sloppy, erratic licks against vi’s cunt and her fucking taste in your mouth.

vi’s abs clench as she’s close, muscles flexing as you look up to her, connecting your gaze to the powder blue eyes, sweat covering her skin in such a human reaction, arching her back to your mouth as she pulls you closer, taking the strands of your hair between shaky fingers — “m’gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum-”

the smell. god her smell is driving you insane. fuelled by caitlyn’s rough movements impaling you relentlessly, you swear your vision turns hazy.

“bite her,” the count manages to say composed as ever, looking down to both the hunter and her cute pupil — “you’ve been craving her blood since you saw us. bite her.”

you look up to the human almost asking for permission, like you really give a fuck about her opinions before she nods unaware of her surroundings. and there’s a pulsating vein on her inner tight you can feel pulsating over and over again like the key to heaven, a kiss or two, a slow lick as your fingers sissor inside her pussy and suddenly you’re bitting her with an unknown force, tearing up the sensitive skin to finally, finally have a taste of what you’ve been thinking about from almost two weeks.

it’s common that young vampires are unaware of their force, common that they take so much without noticing, so you think about it for a second, her warmth flowing inside of you only to renew your energy, a new vigor as your fingers greedely fuck her to reduce her into pieces — it would be so easy to just- end up with her.

that’s the emotion of all, you think. making her lightheaded to the point she’s not sure of where she finishes and where you begin, until her blood is staining the countess sheets and you’re sucking, like a fucking leech, the blood that comes out the open wound.

you can feel the hunter orgasm pouring in, the way her pussy spams in your hand, the loud moans as she loses control of herself, shaking beneath you. it’s such a lovely sight as you drink, taking more of her like you werent satisfied already, the pain mixing up deliciously with the pleasure you’re bringing to her.

so when violet cums, you can feel it everywhere. a demolition that crushes her down, destroying that façade of the bad big hunter to reduce her to a babbling mess, trembling against your fingers as she whines when you continue on sucking her blood, not caring about her uneven breathing.

“i said, don’t fucking kill her,” caitlyn’s rough voice it’s the only thing you can hear as she takes you by the hair, pulling on your strands harshly as she takes you away from her leg, keeping your head up as her hips crashes over and over again with renewed energy, the hunter’s pliable body beneath you as her hand comes up to choke you, not really harsh when she’s weak, but gripping your neck and tucking the messy strands of your hair beneath your hair.

“such a pretty pet,” the hunter says, looking down to you even when she’s still lightheaded from the blood loss— “let’s keep her, can we keep her?”

the countess hums in response, you’re her’s but she can share right? she can share a bit.

vi’s hand slides down to your clit, and it’s just right when her fingers move in circles, an added pleasure that makes your body shake, intense coils of pleasure now forming in your belly as electricity travels down your spine, making your body burn without a previous warning.

it’s delicious- the way you reach your peak, a high you cannot come down as you ride your orgasm, face disorted in pleasure as your vision turns blurry, caitlyn’s burying the rubber cock as far as your cunt allow it just to leave it there— keeping you full of her as a way to remind you who owns you, you made you like this.

fuck.

maybe you are going to be acussed of treason too, cause when vi’s pushing you forward to make you sit on her face you don’t have any questions about it, surrendering to her touch in seconds.

pathetic. you love it.

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lobotomiesatclaires · 24 hours ago

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Lighter Kink and Psychology Analysis - Zenless Zone Zero

Full disclaimer: I don’t play Zenless Zone Zero, but through my friend’s love of the game and Tumblr osmosis, I’ve learned a great deal about Lighter. I find the differences between his canon and fanon interpretations fascinating, so I thought it would be interesting to break down the psychology of kinks and what I think Lighter’s are. I’m going to focus on the ones I believe he has, and if people want me to go into further detail, let me know! Also if it was clear from the title 18+ content below

Exhibitionism – Subcategories: Semi-Public Sex, Secret Keeping, and Risk Play

Lighter is fascinating because he’s full of contradictions. He doesn’t like having his picture taken and prefers to keep a low profile, yet he wears flashy clothes and takes on high profile work where he cannot NOT be noticed. He wants to be left alone but craves connection with people. Part of this can be attributed to losing so many important people due to his own actions, but I think another part of it is Lighter’s hopeless romantic streak. He wants to die for love, and I think part of that is tied to finding someone worthy of that sacrifice.

He’s not interested in people who praise him or send him gifts because, to him, they don’t truly know him—and if they did, they wouldn’t want anything to do with him, he thinks. This low self-esteem and disorganized attachment style create a loop where he desperately craves connection, has opportunities for it, but never fully lets his walls down to allow a deeper bond. Because of his past and the fear of never being truly understood, Lighter communicates in subtle ways. In-game, he can give the player purple lilacs. In the language of flowers, purple lilacs symbolize one’s first love or the first time one feels love for someone. However he leaves on a job right after, to stop any possibility of asking him more about why he gave them to you.

When it comes to sex, Lighter has experience, but in romantic love, he’s very much a virgin, in my opinion.

In line with this, I think Lighter would be needy as a partner, in constant need of validation but unable to ask for reassurance. He hates when his friends are mad at him—it distresses him significantly, which reinforces my earlier points about his emotional sensitivity. Thus, I think one of his core needs would be for a partner to be very possessive of him. Not only would this push back against his feelings of guilt, but it would bulldoze past his tendency to panic at intimacy and distance himself.

While I agree he’d be into risk/thrill-seeking, I don’t think it would be extreme or involve pain. I believe it would be a form of intimate thrill-seeking—the kind that engages an overactive mind.

Imagine:Lighter and his partner in an elevator, on the way to a party. Four seconds before the elevator reaches the destination, his partner pushes him against the wall, kisses him, and whispers in his ear that they’re not wearing anything under their dress coat. The doors open, and they walk out into the party crowd—no one the wiser. Except Lighter.

For example: They’re at the party. Lighter’s charming, slipping easily into conversations with strangers. But every so often, his partner brushes their fingers lightly over the back of his neck—just once, fleeting. No one notices, but Lighter does. His spine straightens slightly each time, a silent acknowledgment: I know who I belong to.

Or: Club sex on the top floor behind a loud rock band. The balcony overlooking a busy street. Going to dinner with friends with a remote in his hand and a small vibrator in his partner’s underwear.

I think Lighter would enjoy all of these scenarios—not just for the risk, but for the inherent trust required to play and keep these secrets between him and his partner. It’s something completely his, something no one else can encroach upon, yet it’s right there, obvious to anyone observant enough to notice.

Marking – Physical and Psychological

Marking, both physical and psychological, would lean into Lighter’s desire for connection. Think: visible signs of his partner’s presence—like a hickey or a faint lipstick smudge on his collarbone.

While traditional marking overlaps with the possessiveness I imagine he’d enjoy, psychological marking might be even more appealing to him. This could involve embedding someone’s presence in his mind through habits, sensory triggers, or routines.

Lighter’s fear of being forgotten or unimportant could be countered by the constant reassurance that he’s always present in his partner’s thoughts. Non-sexually, his partner might leave voice notes for him to listen to during missions or spritz their perfume on his scarf. They might even snap a risky picture and set it as his lock screen so the next time he checks his phone on the job he’s left with a surprise.

Lighter is haunted by the dead, but I think what he truly craves is being haunted by someone living. He would adore his partner’s presence lingering in his personal space, feeding his need for connection without direct confrontation.

Domination – Receiving, Direction Taking

I firmly believe Lighter likes to be dominated. In terms of desire, I don’t think Lighter experiences much spontaneous desire; rather, he’s more connected to responsive desire (see the paper “Sexual Arousal and Desire: Interrelations and Responses to Three Modalities of Sexual Stimuli” by Katherine Goldey and Sari Anders). That man is too tired to be dominant, and as seen in-game, he prefers to take orders. He would definitely call his partner “Boss” in the bedroom.

Beyond the bedroom, I feel Lighter would continue this relinquishment of power through authority transfer dynamics as a coping mechanism for emotional instability, much like he does for the Sons of Calydon. This could manifest in routines or rituals where his partner makes decisions for him, offering a sense of control without the burden of autonomy. It’s both a reaffirmation of care and a release from the pressure of decision-making.

Given his tendency to overthink, delegating power outside of sex could ease his mental load and reinforce security in his relationships. I think Lighter would enjoy having his partner pick out his clothes, jewelry, ect, decide small daily routines, or even manage his finances in a consensual dynamic. This creates a structure where emotional care is embedded in everyday life, not just during intimacy.

Additionally, given Lighter’s need for emotional grounding and his craving to feel “claimed,” collaring—whether in a literal BDSM context or as an everyday symbolic gesture—would be something he could secretly obsess over. If Lighter were given a necklace, choker, or even a collar (especially since he loves jewelry), he’d never take it off. He’d wear it under his clothes, hidden from everyone else but always present. On rough days or when away from his partner, just feeling it against his skin would serve as silent reassurance, grounding him.

It would satisfy both his exhibitionist streak (a hidden “secret” between him and his partner) and act as a reminder: I’m not lost. I belong somewhere. To someone.

For example: if before a mission his partner was to kiss him goodbye, place a necklace around his neck and say “Come back wearing this” he would tug at the small chain subconsciously the entire time he’s gone. He would sleep with it on, shower with it, and when he returned, the metal would be warm and oxidised from his skin, his skin stained from the metal.

Praise Play

An extension of his need for domination and grounding, I see praise play as a huge turn-on for Lighter. While some believe degradation is one of his kinks, I think it’s the opposite. While he might engage in degradation play if his partner wanted it (and part of him might believe he deserves it due to his low self-esteem), I think he would emotionally shut down if it became a consistent dynamic. To me it would be a similar dynamic to the start of the Astarion romance, fulfilling a role as a tool rather than as a person.

Kinks often reflect core emotional needs. Non-consensual fantasies, for example, are about being desired so intensely that someone is willing to break laws and social norms. Degradation kinks often involve a need for others to see the worst parts of us and want us regardless. However, for sensitive individuals, this negative reinforcement doesn’t bring solace—it simply reaffirms their worst fears and destroys their fragile attempts at building a better self image. I also don't think Lighter would find any attraction in demeaning his partner, I think he would feel unworthy of their attention and trust, especially in the beginning.

Lighter is consistently wracked with guilt and desperately wants to know whether he’s doing the right thing, whether it’s in his job or in a relationship. For someone like Lighter, praise isn’t just arousing—it’s reparative in a way nothing else matches. Each compliment is a stone in the foundation of a self-worth he can’t build alone. When his partner says, “You’re doing so well,” or “You feel like home, like safety,” it’s not just about sex. It’s about rewriting the narrative he’s been telling himself for years.

Domestic Play

You cannot convince me that the image of Lighter’s partner cooking or doing general domestic chores wouldn’t awaken something deep within him, even though he might not admit it at first. In-game, he respects and surrounds himself with women who embody dominant, traditionally masculine qualities. He’s more than happy to take orders from them, but in terms of romantic or sexual attraction, he seems to have little interest in those traits. I suspect this is because these qualities mirror his old self, and that’s not something he finds much solace in, either romantically or sexually.

I think Lighter would be attracted to someone fundamentally different from those around him—someone softer and more considerate, yet still strong in a more traditionally feminine sense. Given his history of loss, trauma, and the absence of a stable family, I believe he harbors a profound urge for a family-like relationship. His partner would create an environment that feels like home, a concept Lighter likely yearns for but doesn’t fully understand.

Home-cooked meals, small domestic gestures of affection—these would make him unbearably needy, though he’d only show it when alone with his partner.

For example: During mundane moments—making coffee, fixing his jacket—his partner casually murmurs, “You belong to me.” It’s subtle, not always sexual, but it lights up the part of Lighter’s brain that craves validation without having to ask for it.

Things like his partner knowing how he likes his coffee without needing to ask, or grabbing the salt shaker from him because it’s bad for his cholesterol would make him unbearably turned on you cannot convince me otherwise. These small acts of care would hit him hard, far more than overt declarations of love.

For Lighter, being told what to do isn’t about submission—it’s about relief. In a life where his choices have often led to heartbreak, the absence of choice feels like safety.

Sensation Play – Both Sensory Deprivation and Service

Lighter is an overthinker. According to Emily Nagoski’s Come As You Are, overthinking is one of the primary reasons people struggle to achieve climax or engage fully with emotional and sexual vulnerability. When you place too much pressure on external factors—self-image, internal worries, even things as small as ‘the dishes need to be done’—it inhibits your ability to ground yourself in the present and truly experience pleasure. This is why many people, particularly women, struggle with partnered sex and climax.

For Lighter, orgasm denial or delayed gratification would likely be a huge turn-on, especially in situations where he’s restrained or unable to interact directly with his partner—think handcuffs or shibari. The removal of senses, such as blindfolding, helps heighten arousal by redirecting the energy normally spent on processing visual stimuli toward pure sensation. It doesn’t stop the overthinking; it realigns it, forcing it to focus on the present moment.

For example: His partner lightly places a hand over his mouth while he’s blindfolded—not fully cutting off air, but creating a soft restraint. It’s not about danger; it’s about trust. The lack of visual and verbal control pushes him into a space where he can’t overanalyze—he can only feel.

Considering Lighter’s past—especially his time in the fighting pits, where he described himself as feeling like a zombie—I don’t think he’d enjoy pain or impact play. His physical existence outside the bedroom has already been filled with similar kinds of suffering. Instead, sensation play becomes a refuge—a way to experience his body without violence, without pain. There's a running joke that he fears the sight of blood in game, which is another reason why I believe centering pleasure rather than pain would be more attractive to him.

Emotional Edgeplay

I believe Lighter craves not just physical intensity but emotional vulnerability pushed to its limits—scenarios where trust is tested, intimacy feels dangerous, and attachment triggers are explored in consensual, negotiated ways. Emotional edgeplay isn’t about causing harm; it’s about walking the razor-thin edge of emotional exposure, where the potential for catharsis is as powerful as the risk.

Overstimulation is an aspect of emotional edgeplay, often resulting in emotional release—like crying during or after sex—as the body lets go of trauma it’s been holding onto for too long. Lighter, who is profoundly dissociated from his needs due to guilt and a deep-seated dismissal of his own worth, would find this both terrifying and necessary.

We see hints of this in-game. For example, there’s an interaction with a guide dog—trained to seek out the most vulnerable person in the room—that ignores everyone else and goes straight to Lighter. This detail speaks volumes about how disconnected he is from his own emotional fragility; the desensitization runs so deep that he doesn’t even recognize it anymore.

In these moments, speech and affirmation would be crucial, especially during heightened emotional states or low points.

For example: During edging, when he’s trembling with frustration—not just sexually, but emotionally—his partner gently cradles his face and whispers, “Do you see how wonderful you are when you’re not pretending?”

It’s not just arousing—it’s disarming. Because in that vulnerable space, Lighter isn’t the cool, edgy pit fighter turned bodyguard. He’s just him, stripped of all pretense. No walls, no bravado. Flaws and all. It also provides acceptance by omission, that his partner sees all and accepts all.

Caretaker Dynamics (Reversed Aftercare)

I also believe Lighter would prefer to be the primary aftercare provider, despite this traditionally being the role of the dominant partner. According to Dominatrix Eva Oh, aftercare is a service role, and for Lighter, providing that service would be deeply fulfilling. (It’s a common misconception the Sub role in BDSM is the harder or serving role, because truly Dom’s are required to be very emotionally stable, beholden to their sub and can turn out to be a very stress inducing role for the wrong people). This is why high flying jobs such as CEO’s actually prefer to be submissive because it is the only place in their life they get to be minded.

While aftercare is essential after most sexual interactions—especially those involving intense scenes—reversed caretaker dynamics, where the more emotionally fragile partner provides aftercare, would align perfectly with Lighter’s psychology. Despite his vulnerabilities, he has an overwhelming desire to feel needed, to prove his worth in relationships even when he feels broken.

Being allowed to “take care” of his partner post-sex, even when he’s emotionally raw, satisfies this need. It’s not about dominance or submission—it’s about anchoring himself through acts of care.

For example: After an intense session, when his partner is spent and emotionally vulnerable, Lighter insists on making tea, carefully bandaging small marks, or physically holding them—even if he’s the one shaking. He tucks the blanket around them, brushes sweat-damp hair from their forehead, and whispers, “I’ve got you.”

In those moments, his value isn’t measured by strength or stoicism. This role reversal reinforces his sense of purpose without undermining his vulnerabilities. He doesn't always have to be the strong one here, in this moment.

Closing Thoughts

Ultimately, Lighter’s kinks aren’t just about physical pleasure—they’re reflections of his deepest fears, needs, and desires. They’re coping mechanisms woven into intimacy, helping him navigate a world where connection feels both a gift and a threat. Whether through domination, praise, or emotional edgeplay, his kinks allow him to confront the parts of himself he hides from the world.

At the heart of it all, Lighter wants to be known.

References

Disclaimer I have dyslexia and English is my second language so I apologize for mistakes.

Theswaddle.com. (2019). The Psychology of Sexual Kink. [online] Available at: https://www.theswaddle.com/what-is-kink-the-psychology-behind-sexual-behavior [Accessed 9 Feb. 2025].

admin@blossmcart (2023). A dive into the definition of Lilac Flower and its Significance. [online] Blossmcart Flowers. Available at: https://blossmcart.com/blog/definition-and-significance-of-lilac-flower/#:~:text=The%20Lilac%20is%20a%20flower,purple%20Lilac%20signifies%20first%20love.

‌Li, S. (2024). The Psychology of Kink: A Cross‐Sectional Survey Investigating the Association Between Adult Attachment Style and BDSM-Related Identity Choice in China. Archives of Sexual Behavior, [online] 53(6), pp.2269–2276. doi:https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-024-02829-1.

When Kinks Come to Life: An Exploration of Paraphilic Behaviors and Underlying Predictors. (2024). The Journal of Sex Research. [online] doi:https://doi.org/10.1080//00224499.2024.2319242.

The Kink Orientation Scale: Developing and Validating a Measure of Kink Desire, Practice, and Identity. (2024). The Journal of Sex Research. [online] doi:https://doi.org/10.1080//00224499.2024.2387769.‌

Oh, E. (2020). I Was a Corporate Slave Until I Became a Professional Dominatrix. [online] VICE. Available at: https://www.vice.com/en/article/eva-oh-dominatrix-sex-kink/ [Accessed 9 Feb. 2025].

Youtube.com. (2025). Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_Ng_b28uxM [Accessed 9 Feb. 2025].

‌Youtube.com. (2025). Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2_aCw-DMq0 [Accessed 9 Feb. 2025].

‌

#zenless zone zero #lighter lorenz #zenless zone zero x reader #lighter x reader #lighter zzz #yes i cited my sources #im a freak like that #zenless zone zero lighter

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malsmind · 2 days ago

Text

more than we thought

a bsf!matt x bsf!reader series by @ 𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹

chapter 2

warnings: swearing, mentiones of sex and being a one night stand

wc: 1.5k

chapter 1

english is not my first language!

the sound of your alarm ripped you fom your sleep, wishig you could stay in bed for a little longer. it didn't take long for the excitement to take over your wish to continue your sleep though. today, you had a date. you'd met this guy named joe a few months ago at a party you went to with nick, matt and chris, getting along with him almost immediately. he was nice and good looking, he cracked a few lewd jokes and comments, but other than that, he seemed nice. he asked you out on a date a few nights ago, which is exactly what you were getting ready for right now. getting out of bed and throwing on an outfit you put more thought into than you usually would, (if that's even possible). unplugging your phone from the charger and grabbing it off of your nightstand, you took one last look in the mirror, fixing your hair before you texted the guy and made your way out of the apartment building.

you were excited, for sure, but you also didn't really know if you had the courage to actually go and meet him. dating was always something you kind of avoided. not like you didn't want to date, or give and recieve love from a partner, but you were always hesitant to open up to someone. meeting new people could be hard for you sometimes, especially if it took onto a romantic way. despite your ovethinking, you started your car, driving to the adress of the resturaunt he was supposed to meet you at.

you arrived at the place, getting out of your car and walking up the stairs, looking for your date. when you spotted him, you made your way over, his eyes landing on you as you gave him a warm smile.

"hey pretty." he smiled, pulling you into a friendly hug. you hugged him back, greeting him.

you guys chatted a little, about your interests, about your hobbies, just the typical small talk. the way he seemed not entirely interested in what you were telling about yourself stood out to you immediately, but you decided to just brush it off, assuming it was just the natural awkwardness of the moment. you ordered your food, and he ordered his. the waiter walked away to put in your order and joe turned his head to look at you with a smile. "so how'd you know about the party?" you straightened your back, starting the new conversation with him. "i'm friends with the host, sort of." you answered, taking a sip of your drink, clearing your throat before continuing, "you?"

"a friend of a friend invited me, he's friends with her too." his eyes looked you up and down, admiring the way your body looked in the outfit you wore, making you shift uncomfotably under his gaze. you didn't like where this was headed, the way he looked at you giving away just what exactly his intentions were. despite the feeling in your stomach telling you to make an excuse and leave, you shrugged it off, trying to convince yourself that you're putting too much thought into it. before joe could speak up again, the waiter came back with your food, placing it on the table infront of you.

the both of you ate your meal, making small conversation again, "you're really beautiful, y'know that?" he complimented, a faint smirk on his lips, watching your reaction. you put your drink down after taking a sip of it, smiling, "thanks."

his eyes glanced down at your body again, lingering on your cleavage for longer than they should have. you could feel the mood shift slighty, realizing his behavior wasn't just you overthinking. "we could go back to my place after if you'd like, watch a movie or something?" he leaned back, smirk growing, clearly implying how he had no interest in watching a movie with you. you shrugged, nodding. "yeah sure, i'll have to see though, was gonna help a friend with something later..." you spoke, getting up from your seat, "i'll be right back, gotta use the restroom" you excused yourself, walking away, his eyes roaming over your figure as he watched you dissapear into the restroom.

you pulled out your phone, texting matt. there was no way you were going back to this guys place tonight.

you didn't care abut the fact that you had to leave your car here, joe didn't know what it looked like anyway, you just wanted to get out of this place, not interested in being some one night stand. you walked out of the restroom, back towards your table where joe was waiting for your return. you pulled out your wallet, placing the money for the food and drink you ordered on the table. "i am so sorry. my friend just called me and she got into a car accident. i'll text you, yeah?" you didn't even care about the fact that what you had just told him was a complete lie, not even waiting for his response as you made your way out of the resturaunt, spotting matt's car already parked further away from the window that joe was sat by.

you sprinted towards it, getting into the passanger seat, waving your hands for him to drive off. when matt pulled out of the small parking lot, onto the road, a sigh you didn't even know you were holding escaped your lips, sinking back into the seat.

matt looked over at you, letting you catch your breath, "seatbelt." he reminded, nodding his head towards you. you looked down on yourself, "shit, sorry." you mumbled, grabbing the seatbelt and buckling it in. matt drove towards your place, stealing glances at you every now and then before he actually spoke up, "he didn't... try anything, did he?" matt asked, slight protectiveness laced in his voice. you shook your head quickly, "no, no. god no." you exhaled, "he was just obviously not interested in anything other than sex." you sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest. to be honest with yourself, you were quite disappointed. the guy seemed nice when you met him.

matt knew what was up. he sighed, reaching out to place a hand on your knee to offer you some sort of reasurrance. "m' sorry to hear, he clearly doesn't deserve to get to know you." you turned your head to look over at him, still leaning back against the headrest. you gave him an appreciative smile before turning your head back towars the road. the drive to your house was quiet, different from the usual music playing, chatting, and laughing between you and matt on your usual car rides.

matt pulled up to your place, parking the car on your usual parking spot. he looked over at you, thinking of what he could do to help you with your mood. "how about i come up with you and we watch a movie, doordash some food?" his voice was soft, slightly tiltingt his head to the side. you turned your head to look at him, smiling "yeah, that'd be nice." you nodded.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

despite your horrible date and the disappointment that came with it, your evening with matt really made your day. even though matt wasn't the biggest fan of horror movies, he let you pick one out since you loved them. you were sat on your couch next to matt, a blanket draped over your legs, your head on his shoulder. you reached for the chips on your lap, shoving a handful into your mouth with your eyes focused on the movie. a jumpscare scene played, making matt jump, you couldn't help the small chuckle escaping your lips. "jesus christ, they always gotta fuckin' do that when you're focused and not expecting it" matt breathed out, shaking his head.

you laid your head back down on his shoulder feeling how stiff his body was from the jumpscare earlier. you reached out, smacking him on the chest, "you're a pussy, loosen up a bit you're shoulder's uncomfortable" you groaned, leaning your head against him again.

the movie continued and your eyes grew heavier with every moment that passed, exhausted from the stress from today. matt didn't notice how you slowly drifted off to sleep, his eyes stayed on the TV. another scene made matt jump slightly as he watched the horror film you picked out, really just torturing matt at this point with the amount of annoyingly scary scenes causing his body to jolt everytime, his heartbeat picking up with every jumpscare. a noise of disapproval left your lips at his movement, making him take his eyes off of the screen to look down at you drifting off to sleep with your head on his shoulder.

he leaned forward, careful not to rip you out of your dosing state completely. he reached for the remote, turning the TV off. "come on, i'll get you to bed." he spoke softly, tapping your shoulder. you groaned, getting up from the couch with an annoyed expression on your face, missing the comfort of the soft couch cushions beneath you and matts shoulder as a pillow. matt helped you get in bed, making sure you were comfortable. "i'm gonna go get your phone real quick, yeah?" you hummed in response, watching him leave your room. he came back with your phone and a glas of water in his hands, placing both down on your nightstand. matt sat down at the end of your bed, placing his hand on your leg over the comforter. "you call me when you're up and ready and we'll go get your car, okay?" matt tilted his head, looking at your face, you nodded.

matt got up from your bed, but you stopped him, grabbing his hand. "you can just stay, save the drive back..." you mumbled into the pillow. matt looked down at your hand holding his, thinking for a moment. it's not like it'd be your guy's first sleepover, but something felt different, there was something matt couldn't explain to himself about the way you were leaning on him earlier, head resting on his shoulder for comfort like it did so many times before, the way you asked him to stay. shaking himself out of it, matt agreed, "yeah, yeah, of course."

you let go of his hand, moving over so there was room for him to lay down. he got in bed next to you, getting comfortable. you were facing away from him, matt was facing your back. you were dozing off to sleep again, matt shifted next to you a few times but you were too tired to be bothered. it didn't take you long to fall asleep, but matt? matt couldn't fall asleep. his mind was racing, mostly with questions as to why this felt so different from the countless of times he's laid next to you in bed, sleeping over at yours ever since you were in highschool. he tried to shrug it off, to stop overthinking it, he really did, but he just couldn't stop his mind from going ways they haven't before and it scared him more than he'd like to admit to himself. what if it were in a not so casual way? what if cuddling up to you right now wouldn't be seen as two friends being comfortable with eachother, thinking of it as nothing else than the simple bond of a strong friendship?

he shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips. he shifted in bed again, scooting closer to you, cuddling up to you like he did many times before during a sleepover. your body reacted to his wamth, cuddling back into him. his arm landed on your waist, just laying over it. he held his breath without realizing, exhaling shakily when your body pressed against his. he tried to drown out the weird feeling in his stomach, closing his eyes and trying his best to fall asleep. luckily, he eventually did.

series link (everything you need to know)

taglist

authors note: yh icl this is lowk ass and cliche, forgive me. next chapter will be better... hopefully LMAO

@grace-sturnz @rcklessheavn @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @chrissturniolossidebitch @sl4ttformattsturniolo @priscillaog @oopsiedaisydeer @sturnzzlovee @dollyvuu @xbahaaha @h3arts4nat @sturniolosymphony @powpowjinxlife @idkwhatthisis2009 @surprisecurlyfriess

#𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 #𝒷𝓈𝒻!𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝓍 𝒷𝓈𝒻!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 🌀#𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 ☀️#matt sturniolo x reader fluff #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolos #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfiction #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturiolo fanfic #christopher owen sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo

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serpentface · 3 days ago

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How do you go about words and language in your worldbuilding? im curious about your method and also it just feels good to try to pronounce the words you use, I love it

Most of it started back-engineering languages based on character/creature/place names I put together before having any guidelines and just like a vague Vibe of what the language would sound like. Nowadays I have cfull naming languages for the major languages I will be using regularly, maintain glossaries, etc. Most of the words I have to worry about are in Wardi so that's the most detailed of all.

I think a good starting point is to make a decision on what consonant sounds you want to be present in any given language. I Did Not Do this until later but the best way to go if you're serious about it is to learn (or at least reference) the IPA so you have a very clear understanding of which phonemes are in the language rather than just going off letters (which can have multiple different pronunciations within the same language), and use it to make a naming language. (Should note I only have very entry level understanding of the IPA)

this guide for naming languages is pretty good and helps you understand the IPA and what its terms mean

[x] full IPA pronunciation guide

[x] if your first language is a North American English vernacular, this is just a good starting point to learn how the sounds You regularly use are represented in the IPA.

I think this step is really important if you want to have coherent pronunciation rules (and is just good for learning how languages work on the most basic level) but if you just need Words That Look Good On Paper In The Latin Alphabet you can somewhat narrow this down to choosing consonant sounds from This alphabet.

So like from that simplified angle Wardi doesn't have the sounds represented by the english Z V and X, I will not produce a word from that language containing these letters (backed myself into a corner early on by giving SEVERAL characters names with these letters. I was able to write around this very easily by having them be foreign names pronounced differently by native speakers, but stuck with the original spellings. This is an unresolved issue and I should really be spelling the names as 'Faitsa' 'Saitsen' 'Lifya' 'Stawis' for more clarity).

From the more complicated angle, Wardi does not have the /θ/ ('thorn') /ð/ ('thy') /z/ ('zebra') /ʒ/ ('genre') /v/ ('vowel') /æ/ ('atlas') sounds, which I use to inform spelling (so also avoiding 'th', and any 'g's that would intuitively be read as a soft G by an English speaker).

There's also sounds I've established as present here that are not present in/close analogues to sounds in English or directly representable by the Latin alphabet - /r/ (rolled r) /ɾ/ (post alveolar flap r) / t͡s/ (like 'tsetse') ((also I've been having difficulty determining what this sound is in the IPA, but a sort of flapped 'L'), (also dental clicks used as consonants in a rare few words and more frequently as an interjection that adds emphasis to words without changing their core information, and as a filler sound). I can't indicate most of these in spelling with any clarity so it's mostly for my own use.

Romanization in general is kind of tricky and is ultimately semi-arbitrary to begin with (presuming you're constructing a language for a setting in which the Latin alphabet doesn't exist). The best way to do it is a non-vibes based way where you set up rules for what letters represent which sounds. This is an area I've been sloppy with/have rules that aren't readily apparent ('ch' spellings in Wardi can denote either a /k/ ('cog') or 'tʃ' ('cherry') sound depending on surrounding vowels, lone 'c' always has a /k/ sound, with 'ch' used in its place where English speakers would otherwise presume a soft C. This means I shouldn't need to have Any words represented with a letter K whatsoever but a few have slipped through anyway).

I would say like, 25% of the words I've constructed are Entirely just putting Canonically Appropriate vowels and consonants together in a way that look good and stick to established rules. But in doing so once I establish a word and its meaning I'll try to pick out roots that I can use again when constructing words with related concepts.

So for an example where I did this in a ultra simple capacity of just Putting Roots Together:

An/ana- root pertaining to fresh water, clean water

Nae- root pertaining to a narrow pathway, implies carrying/movement

Pel/pele- root pertaining to saltwater, undrinkable water

Nau- root pertaining to something that holds/enfolds, mostly in an abstract/cosmological sense

From this:

Anae: river ('freshwater path')

Pelennau: ocean ('enfolding saltwater' (specifically influenced by cosmology in which the world is functionally an island atop an infinite sea)

Pelenae: estuary ('saltwater path')

These roots don't have to be limitations (the same assemblage of letters can occur in words that wouldn't have any obvious etymological relations to an established root), especially if you aren't setting out to make a fully fleshed out hard conlang, it just helps establish a sense of coherency and connectedness in a given language. (Also if you want your language to be really fleshed out you probably shouldn't Just do the 'mashing roots together' thing, pronunciation of words drifts away from their root components over time).

Anyway yeah that's the general methodology I use. I'm very new and entry level at conlanging so it's pretty simple and sloppy but it serves its purpose well enough.

#At some point I'm going to stop sunk-costs fallacying myself and change the spellings of Faiza/Saizen/etc but I don't know #if I can bring myself to change Livya because I named her after Tony Soprano's mother (with slightly changed spelling) then #over time completely forgot I did that and then subconsciously had her do Livia Soprano's famous 'OH POOR YOU' refrain #Her name is like. Canon pronounced like 'lee-fya' though

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stuckinmymind22 · 3 days ago

Text

playlists | stay/is it over now? + better man

Chapter 1

pair: portgas d. ace x afab reader (she/her)

modern au | multimedia | musician ace | more info on story

tags: fluff fluff and more fluff, cursing, group chat alert, luffy cameo, goofy ace, also they’re both fucking stupid lowkey (she said like she didn’t write them that way) lowkey imply ace and reader are sluts (good for you!!)

mdni: please - look i can't tell you how to live your life but this isn't for you pls avoid thx

wc: 7.7k (i said it would be shorter and it's the same fucking length 😭)

excerpt:

“You wanna go back to my place?” Ace asks. After the words leave his mouth he seems to have realized the potential implications of them. His face reddens and he trips over his words, “N-Not like that - I -” You cut him off with a laugh, unknowingly bestowing mercy on the poor man, who knows he would’ve dug himself deeper trying to escape. This is by far the most embarrassed you have ever seen him, and it is kind of endearing. It’s clear that he has started to let you past his confident persona, and you appreciate the vulnerability. Your interruption gives him time to recover, at least a little bit. “I meant to like play video games,” he clarifies, scratching the back of his neck. To his relief, you readily agree to his offer, rather eagerly too. He probably shouldn’t read into that, right?

a/n: AHHHHHHH sorry it took so long i want to say it wont happen again but i am not predictable. also it turns out i really like the word mischief (thank you thesaurus)

we're working really hard on not second guessing every single thing i write, but i am in the trenches lol somethings might be cringe but that's part of the process idfk

important: theres a lot of text messages (well i feels like a lot) and i did my best to add in alt text so i hope that works if anyone needs it. lowkey starts off a bit choppy bc there's a lot of texts but it'll get longer i promise (this'll also happen again though)

song(s): there's a lot of songs in this chapter, so i made a list but they'll still be linked when used.

just a note that the songs don't necessarily reflect what happens in the chapter

stay - post malone is it over now? - taylor swift better man - 5 seconds of summer

here's the playlist for everything

He remembered, that’s the first thing you think when you hear the line. It’s a question about last night’s show. Because you told him how you were dreading it. Not only did he remember, he cared enough to ask.

Holy shit.

A confusing feeling blossoms in your chest when you figure it out. You don’t want to not read into it too much, but there’s a portion of your mind that is running wild. You're unsure of the exact intention behind it but it’s got you hook line and sinker – not that you are going to admit that to anyone, not even yourself.

Truth be told it is something you never would’ve thought of doing, talking with lyrics like this. Ace found a love language that you didn't know existed, much less one that you’re already fluent in. The platonic kind, you hastily tact on to the thought.

Knowing he’s already near his phone (judging by his quick response time) you’re calling him before you even notice you’re doing it. To your surprise, Ace picks up before the second ring, leaving you no time to second guess your actions. “You know you could’ve just asked me to call you, or call me yourself,” you tease, forgoing a greeting. Once he answered, talking to him came naturally, despite your initial nerves.

“Well hello to you too,” Ace laughs. His voice sounds even better than you remember, somehow. “And I know, but this is more fun,” the mischievous twinge in his voice has you wishing you could see his face in more than your mind’s eye. “So are you gonna tell me or do I have to guess,” he teases.

“I don't know, maybe you should ask,” you push back. Ace sighs exaggeratedly but relents. “I’m so glad you asked,” you giggle. You go on to tell him about the night before, which, luckily, went better than you expected.

Unaware, or uncaring, of the passage of time the two of you talk for nearly an hour before the call comes to an end. Your heart’s racing, you need to tell someone about this.

note: i completely forgot about kaya until i was adding the alt text to this and i dont wanna redo it, so please forgive me

Despite Ace making an effort to show up early, when he arrives at the cafe you agreed to meet at he finds you waiting there for him. You spot him quickly and wave him over wearing a big smile. He tries to ignore the way his heart picks up pace.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say playfully, bumping his shoulder as he stands next to you entering the line.

“It’s a small world,” Ace shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets, “Whatcha gonna get?”

“Why? You wanna copy me, Cowboy?” you tease, eyes flickering to his hat.

“Cowboy?” he questions, amused. “It suits you,” you shrug. Ace can’t help but recognize how this mirrors one of your first interactions when he called you doll for the first time.

The banter between the two of you flows freely, until you sit down at a table in the back corner of the cafe and your demeanor starts to shift. Ace watches you as you stare at the table and play with your hands. He can’t help but wonder what’s on your mind, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen you nervous like this before. Whatever inner turmoil you were experiencing seems to disappear and you look back at him with a disarming smile.

“I don’t think I asked this, but how long have you been performing? I mean seeing you play - it’s clear you’re a seasoned vet when it comes to crowd work cause that kind of skill doesn’t appear overnight,” your singing of his praises has Ace becoming flustered. He’s never been good with compliments.

It isn’t hard to see that he isn’t as confident in his abilities as he pretends to be. Logically, he knows that what you’re saying is true, but something in his brain refuses to believe it. Either way his cheeks flare up and he avoids your eyes until the red in his face has died down.

“I started playing shows a few years ago, in my late teens. Playing really wherever I could and I did that for a couple of years,” it’s at this point he looks at you again, “I had to quit for a few months but other than that it’s been nonstop since I started.”

“Was that when you joined the navy?” you ask. Ace is a little taken aback by your question, he didn’t expect you to remember something he told you in passing the first time you met. This time, Ace is able to hide the blush he felt creeping up his neck. He can’t help but feel ridiculous, he isn’t like this with other people. Besides, you’re friends, just friends.

“Yeah, I got pretty big over there,” he admits. “I even had a few labels approach me, but I wasn’t interested in working with them. One of them’s super persistent though. Like annoyingly persistent. I said I wasn’t interested and they didn’t let go. They’re a big one too, so not even me moving across the country stopped them from knocking at my door.”

“They’re still bothering you?” you raise an eyebrow. Shit, he was not supposed to tell you that. “If they’re that interested in you, you probably could get a good deal.”

“I’m working on it,” the words slip out of his mouth before he can think about them. Shit. He really wasn’t supposed to say that. Why did he tell you that? You barely know each other.

But then again, he’s always been a pretty good judge of character and for some reason he trusts you. Now that the cat’s out of the bag there’s no point in trying to hide it, plus he’s been dying to talk to someone about it.

Ace leans in, scanning your surroundings before whispering, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this, so you gotta swear yourself to secrecy.” Wearing an endearing, goofy grin he extends his finger. A pinky promise.

Donning a faux seriousness you nod in agreement. You’re barely able to contain your amusement as you swear yourself to secrecy. Something in Ace’s stomach flutters at you playing along with the bit, but he simply chalks it up to sharing information he’s not supposed to.

After the promise is made Ace tells you that “for some reason” this big label is dead set on signing him. You know the reason they would do that, you think it’s blatantly obvious too. You aren’t sure if he’s being coy saying that or if he doesn’t see how talented he actually is (it’s both). Because of their interest he has been given the upper hand in negotiations, which for an unsigned, relatively unknown artist, is practically unheard of.

He knows he probably shouldn’t go into the details but you look so cute intently listening to him like this. Plus you did pinky promise. “It is still in talks, so nothing is set in stone yet, but I’m not supposed to be discussing it,” he clarifies, you nod in understanding and he continues, “To be honest, I’m not even sure I’ll take the deal, even if they give me everything I want. I really like to be independent and not having to answer to anyone.

“However,” Ace’s tone turns mischievous and his eyes light up, “it is fun to see how far they’ll go.”

“So you’re trolling them,” you question, clearly amused by his antics. “Basically,” he confirms with sparkling eyes and a shit-eating grin. “But who knows? I might take them up on the offer” he feigns sincerity, pausing for a moment. You raise an eyebrow, knowing more is coming. “...Eventually, probably not though.” There it is, the roguish smile slips back onto his face. You shake your head but fail to hold back your laugh.

“‘s kinda annoying that they don’t leave me alone. And I’m doing fine without ‘em. I’m nearly halfway through my first album, just gotta get back in the studio – it’s been a while,” Ace chuckles.

“I don’t think I’ve been in a studio in years,” you confess.

“You make music?” he questions, a little surprised you didn’t bring that up earlier, although you haven’t known each other too long he supposes.

“You make music?” Ace asks. He’s a little surprised you’ve never brought it up.

“I mean kinda?” you say more as a question. “I really enjoy production, I actually went to school for it.”

“For real?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm, “that’s where I met Luffy and Usopp actually. We took a class together and Usopp’s the one who got me my job.”

“You should come into the studio with me sometime. Maybe you can show me the ropes or something,” Ace says so casually with a charming smile that it nearly takes your breath away.

“I don’t know, I’m definitely out of practice,” you confide.

“So?” he questioned, “I’m sure it’ll be easy to pick back up.”

“We’ll see,” you smile, leaving it open ended.

Your conversation wanders and by the time it dies down your drinks are long gone and so is your reason to stay, but neither of you truly want to leave each other’s company. A rare semi-awkward silence envelopes the table as the two of you independently rack your brain for some way to prolong your time together, neither of you aware that the other is doing the same.

You cut him off with a laugh, unknowingly bestowing mercy on the poor man, who knows he would’ve dug himself deeper trying to escape. This is by far the most embarrassed you have ever seen him, and it is kind of endearing. It’s clear that he has started to let you past his confident persona, and you appreciate the vulnerability.

Your interruption gives him time to recover, at least a little bit. “I meant to like play video games,” he clarifies, scratching the back of his neck. To his relief, you readily agree to his offer, rather eagerly too. He probably shouldn’t read into that, right?

~~~~~~

It isn’t until you are both standing in front of his door that the nerves really hit Ace. He doesn’t usually bring girls home, especially not just to hang out. Now that he’s thinking about it he has never brought a girl here since he moved in a few months ago. You’re kind of uncharted waters to him, he admits to himself. But there’s no going back now, besides, he wanted this– he wants this.

You can see the tension build in his shoulders as thoughts race through his mind. Ace opens the door, moving to the side to let you in first. You’re curious what’s got him stressed but you decide not to question it, instead you direct your attention to the interior.

The apartment is pretty standard for a single man in his twenties. It has all the necessities, a couch, a lamp, a TV (with its own dedicated stand, so that’s impressive), and a small coffee table. If anything it was above average out of the many similar places you’ve been to. The only things out of place were the guitar precariously perched against the couch and a litany of notebooks. Evidence of his songwriting. He moves the notebooks and guitars out of the way with great care.

“Um, what game do you want to play?” Ace questions, consciously trying not to be awkward.

You rack your brain for a game, it doesn't take you long to settle on one. It's a popular one that you're quite good at - there's the added bonus that it's competitive and you and Ace have a score to settle (not that this compares to drinking but it is a competition so it still counts in your mind).

“You’re in luck,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Little do you know that you picked the one he wants to play; it’s one of his favorites too. As he is pulling up the game he tosses you a controller. “I should warn you that I am pretty good at this one,” he teases, “But don’t worry, I’ll let you warm up. Give you a fighting chance and all.”

You scrunch your nose in mock offence. “I’m not worried,” you assert, holding your head high, “I don’t even need a warm up, I’m ready to kick your ass right now.”

“I like the confidence,” Ace responds, “but I haven’t played for a while so please.” He isn’t exactly lying, he hasn’t played the game in a while, but he isn’t exactly telling the truth either – he does genuinely want you to have a fighting chance and he knows that this way your pride won’t get in the way. Your eyes soften and you relent to his request.

After choosing characters and picking one of the easier maps you start playing. Despite being the one who claimed he needed a refresher, Ace is very talkative. The things he’s bringing up aren’t even related to the game, still you entertain him and answer his questions, finding it amusing that he’s unable to keep his mouth shut.

Somehow, you don’t notice how Ace keeps stealing looks at you – he can’t help it though. You’re sitting cross legged next to him, your knee just barely brushing against him, drawing his attention with every slight move you make. It doesn’t help that you look so pretty focused like this, your tongue peaking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. Once again, you’re confusing him.

He tries talking to take his mind off of it but not only did that not work, it also made him awful at the game. In the first practice round you absolutely annihilate him. There is no other way around it. You tease him for it too, asking if he needs more time to warm up. Ace has no shame in taking you up on that offer, this time stepping up his game. He’s doing pretty well, your skill levels start to seem pretty evenly matched. Feeling more confident he risks a glance at you, and yet again his performance falters. This time he snaps out of it quicker, making a comeback and even winning the round.

“You ready to play for real, Dollface?” Ace challenges.

“You ready for your ego to get bruised,” you retort with a playful glimmer in your eyes. “I don’t see that happening, Doll,” he teases back. “You never know,” you say. Ace laughs, shaking his head.

“Best two out of three?” he questions. “Sure,” you agree, “but it won’t matter either way, I’m gonna crush you.” You know you’re not that good at the game but it’s fun to talk shit idk.

It doesn’t take long for the competition to heat up, both of your competitive natures coming to light. Playful smack talk becomes the backdrop of the rounds with both of you occasionally bumping the other to psych them out. Round three things start to get really tense, you’re tied and so the winner takes all.

Ace manages to take the lead by a rather significant margin, “Looks like I’m winning this one,” Ace beams, his victory seeming imminent.

“Not so fast, hot stuff,” you push back. The comment takes him by surprise, throwing him off of his game. His brain pauses, did you just admit that you also find him attractive?

“Oh so I’m hot stuff now?” he teases. He watches you freeze as embarrassment takes over. “I kinda liked Cowboy,” he continues, with a fake pout.

“It’s not like it’s a lie though,” you say, making momentary eye contact, “might even be more fitting.” Okay now you doubled down on it. Ace is definitely reading into it now. Even after he recovers from the initial shock he doesn’t refocus on the game, his attention now centered on you. You (unknowingly) take advantage of his distraction and manage to pull ahead and win the round.

Going to rub your victory in his face you notice that he is out of it. You realize that he was playing half heartedly and demand a rematch. You want to win fair and square. Ace complies and he wins the next one. You try to walk back the rematch claiming the victory was valid, but (predictably) he fights back. Best two out of three turns into best three out of five to best five out of seven. Eventually, you stop keeping score at all.

Laughter echoes throughout the room, both of your antics and tactics for winning getting more and more ridiculous. You can’t recall the last time you laughed this hard. You really like being around Ace, and that might become a real problem, but for now you push that to the back of your mind. It’s an issue for later, for now you want to concentrate on the present and enjoy his company.

Although you’d started at a respectable distance, that gap’s been closing slowly without your awareness. Following another win you turn to gloat and you realize exactly how close you are. Ace’s freckles are much more visible from here. Automatically, your brain starts painting constellations on his cheeks finding patterns in the dots speckling his face.

Your eyes fall down to his lips and stop their journey. It is clear that something has shifted. There is an unknown gravity that is pulling you in. You’re so close now, you can feel his breath fanning across your face. If you lean in just a little bit more –

The sound of the front door slamming open brings you back to reality. Eyes grow wide in joint surprise. Luffy’s greeting rings out through the room. Before he can suspect anything you move away from Ace, trying to bury your disappointment.

Ace, whose back is towards the door, shakes his head, muttering a curse at his brother before turning around. “Luffy, what did I tell you about slamming the door,” Ace shouts, chastising his brother. “Sorry,” Luffy laughs, kicking his shoes off.

You take the moment of refuge to process what just happened, well what almost just happened. It’s good that this happened actually, you reason with yourself. It would only complicate things in the long run. Imagine if things go south and you were forced to see him at work, no thank you.

Ace gives up on scolding Luffy for his repeated unannounced visits as the younger boy walks away into the kitchen. Hold on, why is Luffy here? “Sorry about him, he has keys to the place, which I regret giving him, and likes to show up and raid the fridge,” Ace makes a point to say the last parts louder, clearly intending for his brother to hear. Luffy’s boisterous laugh echoes from the kitchen.

Luffy must’ve caught onto the fact that Ace had company over because he exits the kitchen with curious eyes. Actively eating out of an open tupperware of leftovers, he scans the room catching sight of you on the couch. In classic Luffy fashion, he greets you excitedly – mouth full of food. Then he looks puzzled. “Why are you here?” he asks point blank. His abrasive questions are nothing new to you so you don’t take it personally.

“She’s –” Ace starts off, not getting far before Luffy cuts him off. “Oooo, video games! I wanna play!” Luffy exclaims. He quickly annihilates whatever it is he’s eating before returning the dishes to the kitchen.

Ace knows that Luffy isn’t the best at recognizing social cues and it isn’t even his fault. However, that doesn’t stop Ace from being annoyed. He is ready to throw him out by the scruff of his neck when Luffy reemerges. Luffy, still full of excitement, stands nearby seemingly waiting for permission to join.

Realizing Luffy would be a good buffer and help prevent whatever the hell nearly happened, you readily accept his involvement, but ultimately leave the decision up to Ace. Ace wants to say no, he really wants to say no, but you expressing your willingness for him to join and Luffy’s fucking puppydog eyes (Ace always has been a sucker for them, especially knowing that they are earnest everytime) has him caving really quick.

“Yay!” Luffy exclaims, running over to grab a controller. Luffy, for his part, is pumped to be hanging out with both of you guys. You’re two of his favorite people in the whole wide world, why wouldn’t he want to hang out with you together. He plops down between the two of you eager to play. You can’t help but chuckle at his extreme joy.

At first Luffy doesn’t play the game seriously, choosing to goof off. At one point he gets up in the middle of a match to go get (steal) more food, walking right past Ace who yells at him prompting Luffy to laugh. During his absence you and Ace focused on fighting each other, ignoring Luffy’s character – turns out that was a mistake. Luffy comes back, mouthful of food and manages to beat you both. And not by a little bit he destroys you both, claiming victory for the first time that night. In hindsight it was slightly suspicious that he was losing so badly when you remember him being somewhat decent at the game (as in he doesn’t die in 30 seconds, not that he wins).

After that the gloves are off, it turns out that Luffy is now good at the game, like really good. He goes on a winning streak. You’re rotating who is picking the map for the rounds and no matter what is chosen it’s like Luffy has the home game advantage. You and Ace grow increasingly more exacerbated, accusing him of cheating despite none of you knowing how one could even cheat at this game. He keeps laughing at the incredulous looks on your faces.

Luffy bags nearly half a dozen rounds before you start to do something about it. When it is Luffy’s turn to pick the map, Ace catches your eyes. Somehow you two have become masters at silent communications. Immediately you know that he wants to form an alliance to take his brother down. With your joint effort you manage to take him out. Both of you cheer in victory, seemingly forgetting that the match wasn’t over until Luffy brings it up. And the game is back on.

Luffy doesn't win a single round after your joint effort to take him out, but he laughs at how competitive you and Ace are. You end up going back down to a two player game while Luffy watches, periodically leaving for more food (you’ve stopped questioning how he does it at this point). Luffy eventually announces his departure – citing his hunger as the reason, which Ace knows means that he cleaned them out again.

And just like that, you and Ace are back to being alone.

Some of the tension from earlier bubbles its way back up to the surface, and it’s clear that the both of you feel it too. Even after forcing the energy to go away it still lingers; it’s background radiation now. Despite your feelings, both of you are pretending that you’re “just friends.”

Ace is the first to break the silence, offering you something to drink (scolding himself for forgetting to do so earlier). Luffy might eat all their food but he knows better than to drink all their alcohol/but at least he leaves the booze alone. You gratefully accept his offer.

However, you were not prepared for what watching him use a bottle opener would do for you/would awaken in you. Why the fuck is that sexy when he does it? You feel insane. It is not normal to have that reaction and it is definitely not normal to feel that way about a friend. The problem is worse than you thought, you have to nip it in the bud. Have you seen his arms? Dear lord. Even your thoughts betray you. Annoyingly, you can’t stop imagining the feeling of his lips.

The worst part is he’s none the wiser for it, but you intend to keep it that way. You beat the horny demon back with a stick (insert bonk meme). With some effort you are finally able to force the thoughts away at least for the time being. Once you return to normal, you realize he’s talking to you.

“-- I don’t know how he did it. He used to suck at that game and whine every time he lost, I can’t believe he wiped the floor with us.” You’re quick to catch onto the fact that he’s talking about Luffy’s insane winning streak

“I wasn’t expecting it either. Last time we played this at game night he was pretty bad at it. It’s crazy how fast he turned that around,” you say, slipping into the conversation as if you were attentive the whole time.

~~~~~~

“You’ve never seen it?” Ace questions, eyes wide. After getting some food delivered, the two of you had gotten onto the topic of your favorite movies and you have never seen his favorite. You confirm again that you don’t know the movie. He shakes his head, “That ain’t right, we gotta fix this.” A chuckle leaves your lips, but you don’t protest. Ace is already pulling the film up when he pauses and checks the time, “Ah shit, it’s getting late. D’ya think you have time for a movie?” he questions with a hopeful gaze.

Checking your phone, you determine you have at least a couple more hours before you’d get uncomfortable walking home. “I got the time,” you say and watch as a faint smile blossoms on his lips – the very lips you were staring at earlier, dying to kiss.

Calm down, you scold yourself.

“Okay, wait right there,” he says before dashing away sporting a childish grin. God, he is not helping your cause. He runs into the kitchen and moments later you hear the hum of a microwave. First you were horny and now you’re acting like you’re in high school. You need to pull yourself together. His footsteps pad off to somewhere else but you are no longer paying attention to him, at least you’re trying really hard not to.

The description of the movie starts to look real interesting, you read and reread it until you can think straight. By the time that happens, Ace is already on his way back with a big bowl of popcorn and a comforter, shutting off lights as he goes.

After setting down the popcorn on the table, Ace plops onto the couch. “Come closer, I don’t bite,” he teases, lifting up the edge of the thick blanket. “Unless you want me to,” he winks, it could just be the lighting but his eyes seem darker than before. Your breath catches momentarily at the insinuation before a chuckle runs through you and you scoot over to join him underneath the blanket.

Now satisfied that you’re all settled he presses play and promises you a cinematic masterpiece. It's hard for you to focus on it at first (or anything really), especially when you realize how close you are to him. In reality, you’re not much closer than you were playing video games, but under a blanket it somehow felt different.

It doesn’t take long before the story draws you in, pulling you away from your confusing thought processes. Ace, however, did not account for how distracting you would be. Oftentimes he found himself watching your reactions to what was happening more than the movie itself. He wants to think that it’s because he knows it so well he doesn’t need to look to know what’s happening, but that’s not true.

Not too long after the film started you catch Ace looking at you. “What?” you question with a laugh. He silently dismisses your question with a smile, turning his attention back to the screen. Shrugging it off you do the same.

Forcing himself to look at the TV instead of you turns out to be a good idea. This way you can no longer distract him. Ace falls back into the familiar storyline, getting absorbed by it.

A little bit past the halfway mark of the film you start to grow sleepy. At some point you got even closer together, now you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. Your eyelids are getting heavy. His smell is oddly comforting, between his blanket and the source the scent envelopes you. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open so much that you don’t even notice when you give in to the exhaustion.

A weight falls on Ace’s shoulder out of nowhere. It doesn’t take him long to realize what it is or rather who it is. He’s ready to tease you about it too but his heart melts hearing your soft rhythmic breaths and seeing the peaceful look on your face. He isn’t sure what to do, but he is pretty sure that it follows the cat rule; he is now stuck there until you wake up.

Ace tries to go back to the movie, but he is hyper aware of your head on his shoulder. With nowhere to go and no way to escape you he is forced to face how he feels about you.

In all honesty, you confuse him (to put it bluntly).

You’re friends, he knows that. Yet he wants more - at least he thinks he does. This doesn’t feel like it’s strictly platonic, there’s too much chemistry for that. Shit, he nearly kissed you not even three full hours ago. Troubling enough, he still wants to, and he has for a while now.

Ace tries to figure out what you are to him - what he wants you to be to him – but he can’t quite make sense of it. He’s never really wanted someone like this before and that scares him. Your dynamic is something right outside of his familiarity, he understands most of it but there’s some parts that are confusing.

He knows that he thinks you’re hot, and if earlier meant anything he’s pretty sure you find him attractive too. That part he understands. He also gets the whole friendship thing. What he doesn’t understand is why you using him as a pillow makes him so happy. Why did his heart race when you sent him back songs asking him to coffee? And most of all what the hell possessed him to tell you about his family?

Back at the cafe you had gotten to talking about your childhoods, which prompted you to ask him about his family. The question was innocent enough, it was clear that you just wanted to get to know him, but it came with baggage you couldn't have possibly known about. He normally doesn’t like talking about it but he felt comfortable with you for some reason. Some information about it he felt comfortable enough to share with you freely. He told you about his mother, the neighbor who had offered him refuge when he needed it. Hell, he even touched on Dadan and his life before his brothers. Then you asked about his dad. Once again you had no idea of how the topic of the man leaves a bitter taste in Ace’s mouth. As soon as you noticed how uncomfortable he was, you completely switched the subject. You did it naturally too, like you were trying to cover up the fact that you were giving him an out. You were so quick to bail him out of a conversation he wasn’t comfortable with. It made him like you more, trust you more too, enough that he was willing to circle back to the topic. He has been pushing the boundaries of what he’s comfortable with sharing already, so what’s a little bit more he reasoned to himself. Also, with how well the two of you get along, you were probably going to find out about it eventually. “I don’t talk to my father,” Ace stated emotionlessly, jumping head first into it during a lull in your conversation. You were clearly surprised by him bringing it back up, but you let him talk. “I’ve actually never met the man and never want to. I could if I did, I know where he is and how to reach him, but I have no desire to have anything to do with him,” a hint of bitterness seeps into his tone, contradicting the indifference he exhibited earlier. “Why?” your voice was small, the question seemed to have slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it, when you registered you had said it you clamped your hand over your mouth. “Ummm,” Ace hesitated, “he’s in prison, like famously so,” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, no longer keeping eye contact. You could tell that he was debating whether he wanted to continue or not and you reminded him that he doesn’t have to tell you anything. That only strengthened his resolve. “I took my mom’s last name to not be associated with him. It’s funny that I’ve never had any contact with him and he still managed to fuck up my life,” he said with a half hearted laugh. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had the courage to tell you his name, but he ripped that bandaid off regardless, “His name’s Gol D. Roger.” Your eyes widened in surprise. Of course you knew the name, he braced himself for impact, or questions at least, but it never came. Instead, he got a look of confusion from you, “You didn’t do any of it so I don’t really care who he is.” Your reaction reminded him a lot of Luffy’s when they were kids, maybe that’s why he felt safe telling you. “Sorry about not having a dad though,” you said, catching him off guard. He snorted, but in the way that coffee ended up going down the wrong pipe and in his nose. “Oh my god, are you okay,” you laughed. Ace responded with a weak thumbs up and you pat him on the back until he got his breathing back under control.

Ace tries to think back on the day as a whole, but he keeps coming back to that moment. He couldn’t figure out what that moment alone means, let alone all of the other things too.

He has virtually no experience with romantic relationships, in fact they are so foreign to him that the thought of one doesn’t even cross his mind. He’s racking his brain to try and come up with an answer. The closest thing he can come up with is a friends with benefits situation. He’s done it before and it has worked (granted it has also failed miserably), but is it even worth the risk?

While he knows he’d be down for it, Ace has no clue if that is something you’d even consider. For all he knows you could be in a relationship. Fuck, what if you’re already seeing someone. He’s never asked, he’s never even thought to. This idea could be dead in the water already. Plus you’re probably not interested in him anyways.

Even if there is something between you two, Ace knows better than to make a move on you (despite how much he kinda wants to). You’re too entwined in his life at the moment for that to be a good idea. For starters you work at the place he now will have regular gigs at. And not simply work there but you are on the production team meaning you’d have regular contact. Not only that, but you’re one of Luffy’s good friends. He heard all about you before he even knew he was gonna meet you (Luffy called Ace a LOT while he was away, keeping him updated on his life in almost excruciating detail). If things were to get messy his brother would be stuck in the middle of it all, and Ace doesn’t want to do that to him. On the other hand, because you are so entwined in his life, will he even be able to hold himself back?

You just got into his life and he already likes having you around so he wouldn’t want to spoil that either. Friends is probably all it could be – friends who find each other hot, sure, but friends nonetheless. But why doesn’t that sit right with him?

~~~~~~

Not long after you leave, while he’s picking up (mostly after Luffy), Ace hears keys in the door. Sabo’s home. Honestly he didn’t even realize he was gone.

“Where were you?” Ace asks his brother as he enters their shared apartment. In all honesty his brother’s unusual absence slipped his mind.

“How was your day?” Sabo questions, ignoring him entirely. Ace does not like the way he said that, like he knows something. Nevermind that he rarely asks that in the first place.

“You first,” Ace stands his ground.

Sabo sighs but gives in, “I got dinner with Luffy then we went to his place.” Knowing he was with Luffy, Ace suddenly understands his tone earlier. There is no way that Luffy didn’t tell him about your presence, the kid isn’t exactly known for keeping his mouth shut. He now knows exactly where this conversation is headed and that there is no escaping it. Ace sighs in defeat, bracing himself for the interrogation.

“You like her, don’t you?” Sabo smiles, no longer under the pretense of asking about his day. Ace, annoyingly, has to hold back a blush, he just hopes the tips of his ears aren’t betraying him by turning red.

“I mean, kinda. She’s a friend, y’know,” Ace tries, really just wanting to get out of this. Sabo levels Ace a look, clearly not buying it. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he caves.

“You know you can’t lie to me, why are you trying,” Sabo says.

“I’m not, she’s just a friend,” Ace insists, he knows full well that he is, he just wishes that it was the truth and that these weird feelings he’s having would go away. At least that would make things a hell of a lot easier. Going for you is a bad idea and he knows it. He just wishes he wasn’t looking for/craving trouble.

Sensing that Sabo didn’t believe him, he gives in, “Fine, I think I like her, I don’t know. It’s weird plus it’s a bad idea. Also no way she goes for me, but still.” Unspeaking, Sabo prompts Ace to continue. Annoyingly, he realizes that talking this through is probably going to help. Ace makes his way to the small dining table they have in the living room with a heavy sigh. When he looks back at his brother, he looks more vulnerable.

“I fucking told her about my dad, Sabo” Ace confesses, hands running through his hair. Sabo’s eyes widen in surprise, it looks like it’s even more than he (and Koala, his long term girlfriend, who knows all about this) thought. The blond takes the seat next to him waiting for him to continue. Ace is fiddling with his hands.

“I’m not even sure why I told her,” Ace starts, fiddling with his hands. “She didn’t even care, no comments, no questions, no nothing,” Ace looks Sabo in the eyes, conveying things that he doesn’t even understand yet. Sabo is well aware of how Ace has been treated due to his biological father, he has witnessed it first hand, right away he knows how big of a deal this is to him.

Ace’s tone and body language shift away from the earlier vulnerability, “But nothing’s gonna happen. It’s all platonic. She’s just really easy to talk to.” He isn’t sure who he is trying to convince, Sabo or himself.

Understanding that he wants to drop the dad topic (even if they’re brothers it isn’t something he loves to talk about) Sabo grows mischievous. “And hot too, right?” he teases.

Ace’s head snaps to him, freaked out that he can tell that. How does he know that? The question is implied. Sabo laughs, accomplishing his goal with Ace’s deer in the headlights look, he’d love to leave it there but he chooses to explain further, “After the party, when you got home, you would not shut up about her. Your ass was hovering over the toilet talking about the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. I should’ve recorded it, it was embarrassing.”

“Bastard,” Ace scoffs, but his face is inflamed.

“It got pretty graphic too,” Sabo goes on, completely ignoring Ace’s comment in favor of imitating some of the things that he said until Ace’s face was bright red.

“Shut up!” Ace protests, he is so glad you’re not here to see this, but Sabo continues mocking him.

“I almost left you alone to choke and die,” Sabo laughs, right now Ace is kinda wishing he did.

A notification from Ace’s phone pulls him from the conversation (thankfully). It’s a text from you. Sabo also knows it’s a text from you, he can tell by the way Ace is looking at his phone. This is just proving his point, the one he danced around because, knowing his brother, leading him to a conclusion works so much better than telling him point blank.

There’s not anything more he can do so Sabo leaves for his room. Oh wait, he learned something. “Hey Ace,” Sabo calls out from behind the cover of his door (just in case), successfully getting his attention. “She’s single by the way,” he continues wiggling his brows.

“Shut up,” the protest from Ace is weak, his attention clearly back on whatever you were saying.

this one got messed up, pretend those heart hands are at the bottom

BONUS:

they both wingmaning ace independently tbh

we were so close to escaping the y/n curse but then the texts came and i couldn’t figure a way out of it

a/n: so about the bottle opener thing…. i can explain… arms 🤤 ngl i forgot i put that in there until i was "proofreading"

in my headcanon the video game was super smash bros (v silly of me to have a hc about something i wrote)

btw someone needs to stop me there is a slim (large) chance that im gonna make reader have a drunk tattoo (nothing bad probably like doodlebob or a random shape) jus for a joke that isn't really funny

i literally i too much to say i'm making a whole debrief for this 😭

thank you for reading ily 💕

pls like & comment! let me know your thoughts | © stuckinmymind22 | dividers by @enchanthings

#Spotify #portgas d ace x reader #one piece ace #portgas ace x you #modern au #one piece x reader #ace x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x reader #ace x you #ace x y/n #fire first ace x reader #one piece smau #canon post

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muiitoloko · 2 days ago

Text

A Scoundrel’s Devotion

Summary: George has always taken what he wanted, but when his wife gives him her love freely, he finds himself at a loss—because for the first time, he wants to be worthy of it.

Pairing: Sheriff of Nottingham × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dirty language.

Author's Notes: I think I made the sheriff very comical, and I don't know if that's good or bad.

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

You stepped through the door, closing it behind you with a soft click. The journey back from the market had been uneventful, save for the strange whispers that reached your ears the moment you passed through the castle gates. Servants murmured in hushed tones, their faces alight with barely concealed amusement and concern. The words "Sheriff... attacked Sir Guy... with a spoon?" floated through the corridors, leaving you to wonder just what kind of chaos your husband had caused in your absence.

And now, as you stood in your shared chambers, you found the source of the commotion sprawled across the bed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

George lay on his back, his long black hair spilling over the pillow, his tunic half undone as though he had barely made the effort to dress properly. His heavy black cloak lay discarded on the floor, a clear sign of his utter disregard for tidiness. One arm was thrown over his forehead in mock exhaustion, the other resting lazily on his stomach.

You exhaled sharply, bending down to retrieve the cloak, folding it with deliberate care. "So," you began, your voice laced with exasperation. "Care to explain why the entire castle is talking about you attempting to murder Sir Guy?"

George barely cracked an eye open, his lips twitching into a smug smirk. "Because he deserved it," he muttered, his voice thick with self-satisfaction. "Filthy bastard is lucky I didn’t gut him where he stood."

You placed the folded cloak on the chair by the hearth, your patience thinning. "George," you pressed, arms crossing over your chest, "what did he do this time?"

At that, George rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His hazel eyes darkened with fury, his black beard framing a scowl that promised impending doom. "He dared to insult you," he hissed, as though the very words burned his tongue. "He called you ugly. Ugly. As if I would allow such blasphemy to go unpunished."

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, but before you could respond, he sat up abruptly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His fists clenched against the mattress as he glared at the floor, nostrils flaring. "I will kill him," he growled. "I will make him bleed. He will beg for death before I’m through with him!"

You sighed, tilting your head in exhausted disbelief. "Oh, will you?"

George snapped his gaze up to meet yours, his anger momentarily pausing at the unimpressed expression on your face.

"George, are you planning to kill yourself, too?" you asked, voice deceptively light.

He blinked, thrown off. "What?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You heard me. If you’re going to kill Sir Guy for calling me ugly, will you also punish yourself for every cruel word you’ve ever thrown my way?" You took a step closer, eyes narrowing. "Shall I bring a blade, so you can start flaying yourself?"

George’s mouth opened, then closed. His brow furrowed. He genuinely seemed bewildered by your logic.

"But—that’s—" He shook his head, his long black hair falling into his face. "I thought you had forgiven me!"

"I have," you said simply, shrugging. "Just as I forgave Sir Guy."

George’s hands clenched into fists, his entire body vibrating with frustration. "It’s not the same!" he barked. "I— I am sorry! I have changed! I do everything for you now! You are the only woman I take to my bed, the only woman I desire!" He surged to his feet, closing the distance between you in three swift strides, his voice dropping into a deep, desperate growl.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom, my wife, my woman." His large hands gripped your waist, his touch burning through the layers of fabric. "I have given you freedoms that no other woman has, let you walk amongst the people like a queen—"

"But Sir Guy is not sorry," you countered, your hands pressing against his chest in defiance. "And that’s the real issue here, isn’t it? It’s not about my honor. It’s about yours."

George’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening.

"You can’t stand the fact that another man dared to insult what belongs to you," you whispered, challenging him.

His nostrils flared as his grip on you tightened possessively. "Damn right, I can’t." His voice dropped into that dangerous, wicked baritone, the one that always sent shivers racing down your spine. "I can’t stand the thought of anyone looking at you with anything less than worship."

"Then perhaps you should have started with yourself," you shot back, refusing to yield.

George’s breath hitched, his entire frame tensing. For the first time in a long time, you saw it—the flicker of guilt in his hazel eyes.

George stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his hazel eyes burning with a mixture of frustration, regret, and something deeper—something he couldn’t name. His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just been in battle.

"I have changed for you," he said again, but his voice was weak this time, almost pleading. "But you… you don’t see it."

He turned on his heel, his long black hair whipping over his shoulder as he stormed toward the door.

"George," you called, a slight waver in your voice.

But he didn’t stop.

You took a step forward, as if to follow, but then hesitated. Perhaps it was the weight of the argument, the exhaustion of years of tension, or maybe you just knew that this time, he needed to be alone.

So you let him go.

George stormed down the twisting stone staircases of Nottingham Castle, his boots slamming against the cold floor with each step. His anger, his humiliation, his wretched love for you burned inside him like a fever. He kicked a passing rat, sending the creature squeaking down the hall. A particularly fat frog hopped across his path—he kicked that too, grumbling as it plopped into a puddle.

"Bloody rodents. Bloody frogs. Bloody wife."

At last, he reached the dungeon’s lower depths, where the air was thick with the stench of damp stone, rotting straw, and whatever hellish concoction Mortianna was brewing in her ever-bubbling cauldron.

The old witch stood over the cauldron, her long white hair hanging in tangled strands around her wrinkled face. One eye—milky and blind—stared into nothingness, while the other, sharp and brown, flicked toward George as he entered.

She did not greet him. She rarely did. Instead, she continued stirring whatever foul potion she was brewing, muttering in some forgotten tongue.

George sighed dramatically and threw himself into a dark corner of the room, his back against the damp stone wall. He pulled at the fabric of his tunic absentmindedly, a habit he had never quite outgrown, something he had done as a boy when sulking.

Mortianna, without turning around, finally spoke.

"Something troubles you, my lord?"

George scoffed, resting his head against the cold stone. "Only everything."

She nodded sagely, adding a pinch of something suspiciously wriggling into the bubbling cauldron. "A woman, then."

George groaned. "How do you always know?"

Mortianna let out a raspy chuckle, tapping the side of her nose knowingly. "Because, dear boy, lately you only come here when it’s about her."

George growled under his breath. "I love her, Mortianna. I love her like a madman. And yet… she sees me as the villain! As if I have not changed!"

Mortianna finally turned to face him fully, the dim candlelight casting grotesque shadows across her wrinkled features. She studied him for a moment before clicking her tongue.

"You are too soft," she muttered, shaking her head. "You let a woman—a woman with a scar, no less—hold such power over you? Ridiculous. Get rid of her. Take another wife. A younger one. A prettier one."

George shot to his feet, his fury immediate. "No!"

Mortianna barely flinched, only raising one thin eyebrow.

"I don’t want another," George snapped, pacing in a circle, his hands gesturing wildly. "I want her! It is her I love!"

Mortianna let out a long, heavy sigh, as if dealing with a particularly dense child.

George stopped pacing, raking his fingers through his long black hair. His chest ached. His hands trembled. And then—humiliatingly—his eyes burned.

"Oh, for the love of—"

He barely had time to compose himself before tears began rolling down his face.

Mortianna took a step back, crossing her arms. "Oh, not this again."

But George was already full of self-pity, collapsing onto the floor in a graceless heap, dragging the fabric of his tunic over his face.

"I’ve tried everything," he wailed, his voice muffled. "I changed for her. I stopped sleeping with prostitutes. I eat meals with utensils now. I even bathe regularly, Mortianna! BATHE! Do you know how much work that is?!"

Mortianna, completely unimpressed, rolled her one working eye.

"And yet," George continued, sniffing loudly, "nothing is ever enough!"

He let out a shuddering breath, pulling his knees up to his chest like a great sulking beast. "She loathes me," he muttered. "She says she forgives me, but she still looks at me as if I am the man I was before. She still thinks I—Oh Gods, Mortianna, what do I do?"

Mortianna sighed again, rubbing her temples. "First, you stop this pathetic display."

But George didn’t hear her. His sobs only grew louder. His nose was running now, his breathing uneven and sniffly.

Mortianna watched him for a long moment, clearly disgusted. Finally, she shuffled forward, reaching out to awkwardly pat his shoulder, as one might do when attempting to console a particularly oversized toddler.

"There, there," she said dryly. "Become a man."

George ignored her, still sniffling. Then, in a motion so quick she barely had time to react—he reached for the edge of her tattered dress.

Mortianna’s milky eye twitched.

"George," she warned.

But it was too late.

George, the terrifying, ruthless Sheriff of Nottingham, the scourge of England, the man who once threatened to carve out a man’s heart with a spoon, promptly buried his face in her skirts and blew his nose.

"OH, FOR THE LOVE OF—!"

Mortianna yanked her dress away from him with a look of sheer horror, staring down at the wet and now slightly green patch of fabric.

George, meanwhile, sat back on his heels, looking considerably less miserable as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his tunic.

"There we go," he muttered, sniffling. "That’s a bit better."

Mortianna gaped at him. "You… you absolute filthy—!"

George ignored her, already standing up, stretching his arms above his head. "I suppose I should go," he mused, sighing dramatically. "I have an apology to make. Again."

Mortianna, still seething, glared at him. "You are a grown man."

George grinned, grabbing a rag from the table and wiping his nose one last time before tossing it directly into the cauldron.

The liquid inside immediately turned an alarming shade of green.

Mortianna let out an inhuman shriek.

George, cackling like a devil, sprinted for the door, dodging a wooden spoon Mortianna hurled at his head.

"GEORGE, YOU FOUL, DISGUSTING, UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BASTARD—!"

He was already halfway up the stairs, laughing breathlessly.

Yes, he had an apology to make.

But first—he had to find a clean tunic.

He had snot on this one.

Dinner was always a private affair now.

You sat at the grand dining table, waiting patiently as the castle’s many torches flickered, casting shadows against the towering stone walls. The air smelled of roasted lamb, freshly baked bread, and the faintest trace of something spicy—cloves, perhaps. The table was set meticulously, goblets of deep red wine reflecting the candlelight, platters brimming with decadent foods.

And yet, your appetite was tempered by anticipation.

Because George was late.

Not that this was unusual. Your husband, for all his newfound devotion, had a flair for the dramatic, a need to make an entrance even in his own home.

And when he finally appeared, you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

George strode in like a monarch surveying his court, his long black hair still damp from his bath, curling slightly at the ends. He had donned yet another of his absurdly extravagant robes—this one an even deeper shade of black, lined with velvet and adorned with golden embroidery so intricate it looked as though it had been stolen from the king’s own wardrobe. The attached cape, more theatrical than ever, billowed behind him as he walked, catching the air like a storm rolling through the hall.

You sighed.

“Another robe, George?”

He smirked, flourishing the cape dramatically as he approached. “You wound me, my love. A man of my stature cannot simply wear the same thing twice. What would the people think?”

“They’d think their taxes could be better spent,” you muttered dryly, motioning for the servants to bring dinner as soon as George sat down.

He did so with a flourish, settling into his seat with all the grace of a lounging predator. The moment the food was laid before you, George dismissed the servants with a flick of his wrist, as he always did now. Private dinners had become your routine—a tradition he had instilled with unwavering insistence.

The moment the last servant disappeared, you reached up, removing your veil and setting it aside. The cool air brushed against your skin, but before you could begin eating, George reached out, catching your hand.

His fingers, rough yet warm, curled around yours.

You paused, looking up at him. His hazel eyes—so often filled with mischief, cruelty, or amusement—were now softer.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. “For today. For yesterday. For… before.” He swallowed. “I know I can’t undo the past, but I need you to know—I’m trying to be better.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “You’ve changed with me, George. But you’re still mean to others.”

His lips twitched, as if resisting the urge to smirk. “It’s in my nature, love.”

“Then change.”

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “And how would you like me to do that, exactly?”

You considered your words carefully, then took a breath. “I saw a starving mother today. She held a baby in her arms, wrapped in rags. They had nothing, George. No food. No shelter.”

His jaw tightened. He released your hand with a sigh, reclining further into his chair as if bracing for an argument.

You ignored the gesture, pushing forward. “We need to build a shelter for these people. A place where they can have a roof over their heads, warm food in their stomachs—”

George abruptly reached for his knife, cutting into the roasted lamb before him.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m not ignoring you, sweetheart,” he said, voice infuriatingly smooth as he took a bite. “I’m simply feeding myself before I’m forced into another one of your little projects.”

You folded your arms. “What would you do if you were in her place?”

He chewed slowly, his eyes flicking to yours. “If I were a starving mother?”

“If you had no home. No food. No help.”

George snorted, setting his knife down. “That’s a ridiculous question.”

“Is it?” You leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “You claim to have changed, George. But if it were me—if I were that woman—what would you do?”

He scoffed, but there was an edge to it. “First of all, none of my children would ever be on the streets.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because they would have me,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “No child of mine would ever go hungry. No wife of mine would ever live in rags.”

You raised a brow. “But not everyone has a Sheriff of Nottingham to protect them, George.”

He exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable,” you countered, tilting your head. “You know I’m right.”

George groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “What exactly do you want from me, woman?”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “I want you to prove you’ve changed. Build the shelter. Feed the hungry. Show your people that you can do more than steal from them.”

George looked at you, his hazel eyes searching yours for a long moment. And then—

He smirked.

A slow, wicked thing.

“You just love making me suffer, don’t you?” His voice dropped into that familiar, velvety growl. “Tell me, my sweet wife—does it arouse you? The thought of bending me to your will?”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Does it matter?”

His grin widened. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

George sighed, shaking his head dramatically. “I suppose I must. You leave me with no choice.”

You smirked. “You could resist me, you know.”

He laughed darkly, eyes gleaming. “Darling, resisting you is a battle I never wish to win.”

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, pulling you forward just enough that his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“But you will owe me for this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “And I intend to collect.”

You swallowed. “Is that so?”

His teeth grazed your earlobe. “Oh, yes.”

You exhaled sharply, your body betraying you, pressing closer. But before you could say anything, George leaned back, resuming his meal with an infuriating smirk.

You glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He winked. “And yet, you adore me.”

You huffed, shaking your head. But you couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that played at your lips.

Because you had won.

And George, for all his theatrics, for all his cruelty and dramatics, couldn’t resist you.

Two months had passed since that dinner, and George had followed through on his word—grudgingly, dramatically, and with frequent complaints about how much he was suffering for your sake.

The shelter was well underway.

True to his promise, he had bought a plot of land on the outskirts of Nottinghamshire, one that had once been an abandoned, rat-infested ruin, now slowly transforming into something worthy of its purpose. He had hired the best architect in the region—who had promptly quit after George threw a spoon at him for "suggesting that a window should be slightly to the left"—and replaced him with another who had been sufficiently terrified into compliance.

George, of course, had taken full credit for the progress, puffing out his chest whenever the townspeople murmured in admiration.

"And who, might I ask," he had declared just the other week, standing atop a wooden platform in the middle of the construction site, "is the man responsible for this act of sheer generosity?"

The townspeople, who had learned by now that answering incorrectly led to immediate taxation, had chorused: "YOU, SHERIFF!"

He had smirked, preening like a cat in the sun. "That's right."

You, standing off to the side with your arms crossed, had merely raised an eyebrow. "Really, George?"

He had turned to you, grinning. "Oh, my love, I adore how suspicious you are of my virtue. It's almost endearing."

You had rolled your eyes but said nothing. Because, despite the dramatics, despite the insufferable preening and self-congratulatory nonsense—George had done this. He had spent hours overseeing every detail, ensuring that no corrupt official could siphon funds, that the workers were fed and paid fairly, that the stone used was sturdy enough to last for generations.

And now, as you sat beside him in the carriage on your way to inspect the site again, you found yourself watching him with something dangerously close to admiration.

He was leaning back lazily, his long black hair unbound and wild from the wind, his cloak draped over his broad shoulders. His black beard was neatly trimmed, though his hooked nose and sharp cheekbones still gave him the air of a villain, the kind of man who would sell someone’s soul for a particularly well-aged bottle of wine.

He caught you staring.

"What?" he smirked, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "Falling for me all over again, sweetheart?"

You scoffed. "Hardly."

"Liar," he purred, shifting closer, his knee pressing against yours. "You've been watching me like a lovesick maid since we left the castle."

You huffed, turning your gaze out the window. "You're delusional."

George chuckled, the sound low and indulgent. "And yet," he murmured, reaching over to trace a slow, teasing finger along the bare skin of your wrist, "you're trembling, my love."

You stiffened.

He smirked, his fingers continuing their lazy exploration, skimming along the inside of your palm, down to the delicate pulse at the base of your wrist. "Shall I remind you, wife, of just how thoroughly you belong to me?"

Your breath hitched.

George leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Say the word, and I'll have this carriage turned around. We won't leave that bed until you're screaming my name."

Your thighs clenched involuntarily.

Damn him.

With great effort, you composed yourself, pulling your hand away as you fixed him with a withering glare. "I think the people of Nottingham would be very disappointed if their oh-so-generous Sheriff abandoned his precious project for such… selfish desires."

George exhaled sharply, tilting his head as he studied you. Then, slowly—deliberately—he dragged his gaze down your body, taking in the way your breathing had quickened, the way your fingers trembled slightly where they rested in your lap.

"You can lie to yourself, sweetheart," he murmured, voice dark with promise. "But you can't lie to me."

You swallowed hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

The people of Nottinghamshire greeted you both with warmth as your carriage rolled through the bustling streets. You waved at the crowd with a soft smile, your veil fluttering gently in the breeze. George watched you out of the corner of his eye, admiring the way you carried yourself—graceful, composed, regal in your own quiet way.

He thought you looked particularly beautiful today.

A part of him wished you would drop the veil, let him see you fully, without that cursed fabric acting as a barrier. But he said nothing. He had learned by now that some wounds took longer to heal, that patience was a virtue he was still mastering.

So instead, he simply enjoyed the comfortable silence between you, watching as your gaze remained fixed on the people outside, oblivious to his staring.

Then, you turned to him with a sudden thought. “After we inspect the site, can we stop by the market? I’d like to buy Emily a toy.”

George blinked, briefly thrown off by the shift in topic. Then, his lips twitched into a smirk. “Already spoiling the child, are we?”

You rolled your eyes, though there was a small smile playing at your lips. “She reminds me of… well, me. When I was little.”

George tilted his head, studying you. He knew how much you doted on the maid’s daughter, how you slipped her sweets when no one was looking, how you always remembered to bring her something whenever you went to the market.

He also knew—deep down—that you longed for a child of your own.

The thought lingered in his mind, a realization settling within him like a slow-burning fire. Before, the idea of children had always been tied to duty. That was why, in the beginning—when he despised you, when he saw you as nothing more than a political pawn—he had still taken you to bed. It had been about securing an heir, about ensuring his legacy.

But now?

Now, the thought of having a child was no longer about duty.

Now, when he imagined it, he saw you—sitting by the fire, knitting tiny garments with that same focused determination you had when crafting Emily’s doll. He imagined a little girl with your eyes, or a boy with your quiet strength, sitting on his knee as he read them stories (dramatically, of course). He imagined you—soft and glowing, a child resting against you, loved and wanted.

The idea no longer felt like an obligation.

It felt like something he wanted.

George cleared his throat, forcing the thought aside before it could unsettle him further. “Fine,” he relented, feigning exasperation. “We’ll buy the brat a toy.”

You beamed at him, and God help him, he felt something in his chest tighten.

Before he could dwell on it, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the construction site.

George stepped out first, sweeping his cloak over one shoulder as he extended a hand to help you down. You took it without hesitation, your fingers curling around his. He smirked slightly at the sight—he liked the way your smaller hand fit into his, liked that you reached for him without hesitation now.

The architect was already waiting for you both, an older man with thinning hair and a permanently nervous disposition (likely due to the incident with the first architect and the spoon).

“My lord, my lady,” the architect greeted with a low bow. “We’ve made considerable progress since your last visit.”

George nodded, clasping his hands behind his back in an appropriately sheriff-like manner. “Well, I should hope so. If I’m going to be a saint of the people, I expect results.”

You shot him a look.

The architect coughed nervously before gesturing toward the half-constructed building. “As you can see, the foundation is complete. This will be the main hall where meals will be served. We have planned separate quarters for families on this side, and individual rooms for those in need of temporary shelter over here.”

George watched as you inspected the design, nodding thoughtfully as you took everything in. He could see the way you envisioned it already—how your mind was putting everything together, piece by piece.

“I’d like to have a small garden here,” you said after a moment, pointing to an open patch of land beside the structure. “Somewhere people can grow herbs, vegetables. A way for them to sustain themselves, even in small ways.”

George arched a brow, glancing at the architect. “Make it happen.”

The man nodded quickly, scribbling notes on his parchment.

As the architect continued his explanation, George found himself less interested in the details of where the chimney should go and more fascinated by you—by the way you bit your lip in thought, the way you gestured as you spoke, the way you had so seamlessly stepped into this role of leadership.

He still remembered the first time he saw you—veiled, silent, hesitant. The woman before him now? She was someone entirely different.

And he liked it.

“Once the shelter is completed,” George mused aloud, breaking the conversation, “I’ll need you to start drawing up new plans.”

The architect blinked in confusion. “For what, my lord?”

George waved a hand toward the future shelter. “This is just the beginning. We’ll need a school next.”

Silence fell over the group.

You turned to him sharply, eyes widening. “A school?”

George smirked, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.

“Think about it, love,” he said, tilting his head. “What good is a full stomach if one’s mind remains empty? We can’t have a bunch of uneducated brats running about Nottinghamshire. Might as well give them some schooling so they don’t all grow up to be idiots.”

The architect looked utterly gobsmacked.

You, however, were watching him with something else entirely in your gaze.

“George,” you said, your voice softer this time. “You would really do that?”

George shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Well, if I’m going to be a reformed man—” he interrupted himself.

The moment your veil fell away, caught in the breeze as it drifted to the ground, George's world seemed to slow.

You had never done this before. Never removed it so openly, so deliberately, in front of others. It had always been a shield, a fortress between you and the world. Between you and him.

And now, you had cast it aside.

Before he could fully process the significance of it, you grabbed him by the collar of his absurdly expensive, dramatically embroidered robe and pulled him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t a hesitant kiss. It wasn’t soft or demure.

It was searing.

The kind of kiss that made him feel as if the entire world had been swept out from under his feet.

George, despite his usual flair for theatrics, was caught completely off guard.

There was no hiding behind fabric, no carefully orchestrated distance. There was only you, your lips pressing against his, your hands clutching at the front of his tunic as if he was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

And then—finally—his instincts caught up.

He kissed you back, with every ounce of passion he had been bottling up for months. His hands grasped at your waist, fingers tightening as he pulled you flush against him, deepening the kiss with a desperation he hadn’t even realized he possessed.

The architect, caught in the unfortunate position of being a witness to this spectacle, quickly turned away, rubbing at his temples as if contemplating the meaning of his existence.

George couldn’t care less.

You were kissing him, here, in front of everyone, without shame, without hesitation. And then—just as he thought he had finally regained control of the situation—you pulled away, just enough to whisper something against his lips that shattered the very foundation of his world.

“I love you.”

George froze.

His mind went utterly blank.

His hands, still gripping your waist, trembled.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you—really look at you. As if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard.

You had never said those words before.

Not once.

Not in the entire miserable history of your marriage.

But you were saying them now, your eyes burning with something raw and genuine, your lips parted as if waiting for him to respond.

And George—who had always been a master of words, a man of dramatic declarations and cutting wit—found himself utterly, incomprehensibly speechless.

“I—” He choked on the word, swallowed, tried again. “You—”

For the first time in his life, George, Sheriff of Nottingham, feared that he might actually faint.

Because, surely, this was a hallucination. A fever dream brought on by too much wine and not enough sleep. You could not have just said that. You could not have just—

“George,” you whispered, smiling softly. “Did you hear me?”

His heart was pounding so violently he was half-convinced it might burst from his chest.

“I… I heard you,” he finally managed, his voice hoarse, breathless.

You arched an eyebrow, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his tunic. “And?”

George, completely beside himself, did the only thing he could think to do.

He grabbed your face—scar and all—and kissed you so fiercely that your knees nearly buckled beneath you.

The architect made a noise of protest, but George paid him no mind.

He kissed you until he was certain that you could taste every ounce of his devotion, his desperation, his absolute, undying love for you.

And then, pulling away just enough to press his forehead against yours, he exhaled shakily, his voice raw with emotion.

“You ridiculous, impossible woman,” he murmured, his hands tightening around you as if terrified you might disappear. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done to me?”

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers over his jaw. “I imagine I’ve given you an aneurysm.”

“Correct,” he growled, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I have spent months—months—waiting for you to say something, anything about your feelings for me, and then you just throw it at me like—like—” He gestured wildly, voice rising in dramatic outrage. “Like a casual remark?!”

You smiled, amused by his theatrics. “Would you have preferred I declared it from the castle walls?”

“YES!” he barked, then paused, blinking. “Wait. No. Actually, yes. That would have been preferable.” He grinned suddenly, eyes gleaming with mischief. “In fact, I demand it. Right now. You will climb to the highest tower and—”

You rolled your eyes, cutting him off with another kiss.

It worked immediately.

George, ever the insufferable romantic, melted like butter, his earlier indignation vanishing as he deepened the kiss with renewed fervor.

The architect, long-suffering and utterly exasperated, cleared his throat loudly.

“Perhaps, my lord, you might save your affections for a more private setting?” he suggested, pinching the bridge of his nose.

George, looking thoroughly unrepentant, smirked. “Ah, but you see, my dear architect—” He pulled you against him once more, nipping teasingly at your lower lip before flashing a smug grin. “—this is what happens when you fall madly, hopelessly in love with your wife.”

You flushed at his words, but George only beamed, practically preening in satisfaction.

The architect sighed deeply, clearly questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment.

“Shall we continue discussing the shelter, or would you prefer I leave you two to, ah, celebrate your newfound affections?”

George, ever the dramatic menace, actually seemed to consider it.

You, however, nudged him hard in the ribs. “Behave.”

He pouted but relented, turning back to the architect with a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

And so the discussion resumed.

But George, for all his newfound philanthropy, was hopelessly distracted.

Because you had said it.

You had finally said it.

And now, there was absolutely nothing stopping him from making it his life’s mission to ensure that you never regretted it.

The scent of fresh bread, roasting meat, and fragrant herbs mingled with the crisp autumn air as you and George strolled leisurely through Nottingham’s bustling market. The cobblestone streets were alive with activity—merchants haggled, children weaved between stalls, and the chatter of townsfolk filled the air.

For once, George was in an exceptional mood. Not only had he basked in your public declaration of love earlier, but he had also discovered something truly unexpected—being nice was astonishingly profitable.

"Another gift?" George smirked as the baker’s wife pressed a bundle of warm gingerbread into your hands. “Darling, at this rate, we won’t have to buy supplies for weeks.”

You cast him a knowing look. “You do realize this is because the people actually like us now?”

George scoffed. “No, they like you. I am simply basking in the benefits of your saintly presence.”

You shook your head in amusement, placing the bundle of gingerbread on top of the already considerable pile of gifts George had been forced to carry. Fresh apples, a fine wool scarf, a bundle of herbs—items freely given with kind smiles and murmurs of gratitude.

George, for all his complaints, wasn’t truly displeased. In fact, he was rather enjoying this new role of “beloved” Sheriff. The perks were undeniable—free food, admiration, and the absolute best part: you.

His attention briefly drifted as you continued browsing, oblivious to the young man making his way towards you, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hands. George immediately narrowed his hazel eyes, his grip tightening on the gifts he held.

The man’s intent was obvious—to present you with the flowers. The nerve of him.

As the man drew closer, George bared his teeth in a slow, menacing snarl.

The poor fool hesitated.

George’s scowl deepened.

The man’s resolve wavered.

Then, wisely, the young man turned on his heel and fled, the bouquet still in his grip.

George smirked in satisfaction before turning back to you, still blissfully unaware as you examined the finely crafted dolls on display at a nearby stall.

A woman approached, handing you a small bundle of lavender. “For you, my lady,” she said with a smile.

George watched as you thanked her, slipping the lavender into the crook of your arm. His smirk widened. Yes, this was the life. If he had known that being benevolent would be so profitable, he might have started sooner.

Just as he was reveling in his newfound “philanthropy,” George felt an insistent tug at his cloak.

He glanced over his shoulder, then down.

A small girl, no older than six, stood at his feet, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his cloak as she gazed up at him with large, solemn eyes.

George blinked, his expression immediately turning into one of mild horror. What in the blazes did she want?

He tried to shake his cloak free, but the child remained steadfast, unperturbed by his obvious distaste.

“What,” he muttered, peering down at her as if she were an inconvenience. “Do you want?”

Without a word, the little girl lifted her small hand, revealing a single daisy.

George frowned.

A flower? For him?

He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t poisoned, is it?”

The girl just blinked up at him, uncomprehending.

George sighed, rubbing his temple. “Listen, child, I don’t know what you expect me to—” Before he could finish, you turned and noticed the interaction.

Your lips curled into a warm smile as you knelt beside the little girl. “What a lovely flower,” you murmured, reaching out to accept it. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

The child shook her head and pointed at George.

George, utterly baffled, stared between the two of you. “What? Why me?”

You giggled, brushing your fingers over the petals before tucking the flower into George’s lapel. “Because she wanted to give it to you.”

George exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath. His fingers briefly touched the daisy, as if assessing its worth, before quickly withdrawing as though burned.

As he attempted to regain his composure, you took the gingerbread bundle from the pile of gifts he was carrying and handed it to the girl. “Here,” you said softly. “For you.”

The little girl’s eyes widened with delight as she took the gingerbread, clutching it to her chest before turning and dashing off.

George watched, his gaze lingering on the gingerbread as it disappeared into the crowd. He sighed dramatically. “I was going to eat that.”

You patted his arm sympathetically. “Yes, but she needed it more.”

George grumbled under his breath, adjusting his now slightly lighter load of gifts. “If people keep giving you things and you keep giving them away, we’ll be right back where we started.”

You only laughed, slipping your arm through his. “Then you’ll just have to carry more.” George sighed heavily but made no move to untangle himself from you.

As the two of you resumed your stroll through the market, George caught sight of the flower still tucked into his lapel. He huffed, plucking it free.

Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he tucked it behind your ear.

Your eyes widened slightly, but before you could say anything, George smirked and pressed a swift kiss to your cheek. “Let’s go, love,” he murmured. “Before more peasants decide they adore us.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, but as you walked on, you reached up to gently touch the flower, a small smile lingering on your lips.

And George—grumpy, dramatic, ruthless George—allowed himself to be led, carrying your gifts, basking in your warmth, and wondering, perhaps being a better man wasn’t so terrible after all.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #sheriff of nottingham x reader #sheriff of nottingham

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spookieolson · 3 days ago

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First Date- Chris Motionless x Reader

Tw: None! Just fluff!

A/n: woah I’m actually uploading fics again?? I actually had the motivation and desire to write today who cheered? I felt like writing fluff for our fav spooky singer. Enjoy!!

Taglist: @skulliecadaver-blog @witchyweeb34 @cookiesupplier @raydenrrobertson @sakuracyberhex @beaker1636 @lyschko666 @black-damask1999 @synthetic-wasp-570 @jilliemiw86 @tearfallpixie @thatchickwiththecamera @th0ughts-pr4yers @zuberweirrd @bxrnthyfears @miamore0570 @yournecessaryevil @arkiliastuff

………………………………………

You sit down on the tan chair by a table at a family owned coffee shop as you wait patiently for your date, Chris.

You had met at this very same coffee shop two days ago, accidentally bumping into him and spilling your drink all over his shirt.

Strangely enough, he wasn’t fazed or upset by it. In fact, he was rather calm and sweet about the incident, letting you help clean his shirt off. It was a pleasant surprise, you thought for sure he would be pissed off and make a fuss of it.

He even helped you calm down a bit after what happened, seeing as your anxiety was getting the better of you. He talked you through it all, making sure that you controlled your breathing.

Eventually, you did calm down, and offered to buy him a coffee to make up for it. Even though he stated that you didn’t need to, you were insistent. Besides, it would give you an excuse to see the handsome stranger again. Seeing as you wouldn’t take no for an answer, he accepts and you give him your number.

You fidget with the hem of your blue dress, foot lightly tapping anxiously as you awaited Chris. Your thoughts were starting to get the better of you. What if he didn’t show up? What if you accidentally spilled your coffee on him again? What if he doesn’t like you and never speaks to you again?

Before your paranoia could get the better of you, your train of thought is interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching you followed by a chair being pulled out.

“Hey, y/n. Sorry if I’m a few minutes late, couldn’t find my keys for a minute back at home,” Chris says with a sheepish chuckle as he sits down. He takes in your looks. “You look pretty.”

His compliment makes your cheeks flush. “O-oh, thank you. You look good yourself. And you’re not late, don’t worry!” You stutter a bit before clearing your throat. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Any excuse to get out of the house for coffee is a deal for me. My band mates call me a coffee fiend.” He says with an eye roll and slight laugh.

You chuckle at his comment. You had been texting back and forth over the past two days and you remember him mentioning he was in a band. You had checked out the music, and it was love at first listen. Chris’ voice was incredible, and it gave you even more reason to like him.

“Hey, can’t blame you there. I love a good latte every morning and I have to say, this place definitely satisfies that craving.”

“Oh, definitely. I discovered this cafe a couple of years ago and it has never failed to impress me every time I come. Always a treat coming here, especially since it brought us together.” Chris says with a soft smile, his expression genuine.

You can’t help but smile yourself, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I can say the same. Would you wanna order now?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You both get up and walk up to the counter. You place your order and you pay the cashier. Once that’s done, you step to the side and wait.

As you’re waiting, you can feel an unfamiliar man’s eyes on you. He’s staring at your body, and it’s making you uncomfortable. You hug your arms over your body and try not to look at the man.

Chris seems to take notice of your body language fairly quickly, and raises a brow. He looks over and sees the man staring. A pit of disgust forms in his gut, glaring at the man and wrapping an arm over your shoulders.

The gesture makes you blush, your heart skipping a beat. The man sees how Chris is holding you, frowning before he stops looking at you and sulks away. You let out a sigh of relief once he’s no longer near you.

“Thank you…he was making me really uncomfortable..” You mutter softly, looking up at Chris with a grateful expression.

He nods with a small smile, releasing you and giving you a bit of space. “Of course. I could tell how uneasy you were, that guy was a dick.” He says, a bit of annoyance in his tone. He hated people like that, staring and making others uncomfortable.

“I appreciate it.” You say as your order number is called. You go up to the counter and pick up your order.

“Careful, don’t spill your drink on me this time,” Chris teases with a wink, carrying his coffee and pastry. You roll your eyes with a smile.

“Oh hush. I’ll be careful.” You state as you go sit back down. You sit and pick up your breakfast sandwich, taking a bite and humming at the taste.

“This place makes the best breakfast sandwiches. If I could, I’d live off these things.” You say in between bites, devouring the sandwich within a matter of minutes.

“Oh yeah, they’re pretty great. Way better than Starbucks or Dunkin.” Chris says, munching away on his donut. You nod in agreement.

You finish up your food, now sipping on your latte. “I still have some coffee left to finish, wanna take a walk in the park across the street? Weather’s nice.” Chris suggests.

“That would be nice.” You say with a smile, standing. Chris smiles and stands as well, now taking your hand in his. This makes you blush yet again.

His hand was larger than yours, tender and warm. You take notice of the tattoos on his fingers, knuckles and hand. The intricate work was impressive, and his tattoos looked good on him.

You now leave the cafe, walking hand in hand with Chris across the street to the local park. You had a soft spot for it, you grew up near it. Your parents took you all the time so it held quite a bit of nostalgia for you.

“I’ve always loved this park,” You say as you walk through the entrance, taking in the cherry blossom trees and random strangers that have been in the area. “My parents took me all the time, and my friends and I went here after school. It’s always been a peaceful place.”

Chris hums. “That’s a nice thing. It’s nice that it’s quiet. You’d think that I wouldn’t mind noisy, occupied places but I actually prefer a more slow paced, peaceful environment. It’s easier to think that way.” Chris speaks thoughtfully as he too takes in the sights.

You nod. “I can understand that. It must be nice to get away from the noise.”

“For sure. Whenever I get the chance to on tour, I always try to find somewhere quiet to be alone and relax for a bit.”

“I don’t blame you.” You say in response. You end up walking around the park, chatting for over an hour. Chris was so easy to talk to, like you had known him for ages. He listened to everything you had to say, genuinely interested.

It was nice getting to hear about his tour life, and what it was like being in a popular band. Despite his fame, he was so humble and down to earth. You were developing quite the crush on him.

As you start to head towards the exit of the park, a cool breeze blows by, causing you to rub your arms as you shiver a bit.

“Damn, if I had known it was going to be a bit chilly I would've brought my jacket-“ As you speak, you’re cut off by Chris’ leather jacket being placed over your shoulders. You smile shyly at the gesture. “Y-you didn’t have to do that.”

Chris shrugs. “You need it more than I do. I’ve got a sweater on anyway, so it’s not a big deal. I’d hate to see you cold.”

His words leave your face warm. He was so kind. “If you’re sure..”

Chris ends up walking you home since you didn’t live far from the cafe. You both stop at your doorstep.

“I had a great time with you today. And thanks for the coffee.” Chris says with a genuine smile, a look of admiration in his eyes.

You smile back. “So did I. And it was no problem. It’s the least I could do.” You say with a sheepish smile. You take off the jacket and hand it back to Chris, only for him to shake his head. You raise a brow.

“Keep it.”

“What? A-are you sure? It is your jacket.” You ask, a bit baffled.

“I’ve got another one just like it back at home. Besides, you look better in it than I do.” Chris laughs softly as you blush. “Would you maybe wanna grab some lunch on Saturday? I’d love to see you again.”

Your face lights up and you can’t help but smile. “I’d like that.” Chris smiles.

“Great, does two work for you?”

“That works. It’s a date.” You say with a warm smile.

Chris’ smile widens. As you turn to unlock your door, Chris leans down and kisses your cheek before stepping back. “I’ll see you Saturday.” He says before he starts to walk away.

You’re left standing there, a blushing mess, but…a happy blushing mess.

#motionless in white #miw band #miw #chris motionless #chris cerulli #miw x reader #miw fanfic #Chris motionless x reader #x reader #fluff #fic #fan fiction #chris cerulli x reader #motionless in white x reader

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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 1 day ago

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“Nosferatu” (2024) Ending Explained Through Cast and Crew Interviews

“My influences are all very clear, and Nosferatu is a remake, after all,” Eggers says, yet he plays with the canon, with expectations and clichés – “hopefully subverting them to do something unexpected.” (x)

“It is very much Ellen’s story, about a woman who is as much a victim of 19th-century society as she is of the vampire. And this demon-lover relationship she has with Orlok.” (x)

“I think that what ultimately rose to the top, as the theme or trope that was most compelling to me, was that of the demon-lover. In “Dracula,” the book by Bram Stoker, the vampire is coming to England, seemingly, for world domination. Lucy and Mina are just convenient throats that happen to be around. But in this “Nosferatu,” he’s coming for Ellen. This love triangle that is similar to “Wuthering Heights,” the novel, was more compelling to me than any political themes.” (x)

“Cinematic vampires have lost their power and what makes them frightening,” says Eggers, who “went back to the folklore to understand the time when people believed vampires existed and were truly terrified of them” (x)

“So it was clear to me that I needed to return to the source, to the early folkloric vampire, to written accounts about or by people who believed that vampires existed – and who were terrified of them. Most of these early accounts come from Balkan and Slavic regions. Many are from Romania, where Stoker’s Dracula resides.” (x)

"I never think of things in a contemporary context," director Robert Eggers says […] "I try to stay in the worldview of the characters.” (x)

“A [willing] sacrifice”

“there is a sacrifice” (x)

“she's [Ellen] doing a good deed and she's breaking the curse” (x)

“When reading the script early on, Skarsgård wrote a note down that the finale was “death and ecstasy,” he says. In his last moments, Orlok is “seeing the sun for the first time in hundreds of years. So he's mesmerized by it and fear and all of these different things. “And in a way, maybe that is what Orlok wanted all along.” (x)

Ellen doesn’t sacrifice herself to save Thomas and this theory is debunked by the film itself

"A black enchanter he [Orlok] was in life. Şolomanari." "Our Nosferatu is of an especial malignancy. He is an arch-enchanter, Şolomonari."

Robert Eggers using camerawork to show the audience who’s the “them” in the breaking of the curse, whose instructions are in the Şolomonari codex of secrets (a book, which according to Romanian folklore, was written by Orlok himself):

“And so the maiden fair [Ellen] did offer up her love unto the beast [Orlok] and with him lay in close embrace until first cockcrow, her willing sacrifice thus broke the curse and freed them [both] from the plague of Nosferatu.”

Mutual healing theme: Orlok drains Ellen of her excessive blood ("too much blood"), balancing her “sanguine temperament” and ending her “hysteria” and “melancholy” (he also gives her an orgasm, a nod to hysteria as repressed and frustrated female sexuality); and Ellen’s love and willing sacrifice sets Orlok’s spirit free from the rotten vessel it was trapped in; as they are reunited in the spiritual realm, as their covenant intends, now fully healed.

“Vengeance”

“[Ellen is a] victim to 19th-century society […] she can see into another realm, and has a certain kind of understanding that she doesn’t have the language for,” Eggers said. “But people are calling her melancholic and hysteric and all of these things.” (x)

Ellen: "Why do you hate me? You have never liked me. Never. Listen to me, please!" Friedrich Harding: "I have done everything in my power to be kind to you for these long months. Find …" Ellen: "Tied me up?" Friedrich Harding: "Find the dignity to display the respect to your caretaker." Ellen: "How can you be so stupid and cruel?" Friedrich Harding: "Hartmann will call you a coach, at my expense – of course. And for your husband’s sake, I pray you might learn to conduct yourself with more deference."

Thomas: "Never speak these things aloud. Never. It is a trifle. A foolish dream, just as your past fancies."

Anna Harding: "Perhaps Professor Franz was wrong. Perhaps it was only your wish to see Thomas safely returned, and your… your..." Ellen: "My melancholy? Thomas has seen something awful. If only I could speak to the professor-" Anna Harding: "Hush. His thoughts are so queer, so sordid, I dare not repeat them! [...] Leni, please. For the sake of the children – Christmastide is upon us. Why must you remain so exasperatingly contrary?"

Friedrich Harding: "Jesus Christ in heaven! This isn’t a Satanic magician, or any other humiliating fantasy. It’s no wonder you’re a laughing stock. Out! Frau Hutter is mad and should have been locked up long ago." Friedrich Harding: "Take that blackguard from this place! Your diseasèd mind has brought all of this outrage - Your very presence does me wrong!"

“She [Ellen] has this understanding of this other world, and this other way of thinking that she doesn’t have language for, so she’s isolated. But the pull to it is very strong, and so people consider her melancholic and hysterical, and we can see her fighting within herself. I think having it stem from the realities of a woman who’s a victim of 19th-century society is something that makes it hopefully work.” (x)

“Thomas thinks he's the hero but really his wife, who everyone is calling crazy and telling to shut up and tying to beds, is the only one who can solve the problem," Eggers says. "That's much more interesting.” (x)

"My entire life I have no ill but heed my nature.”

“One example of costume design serving the plot, as you mentioned, is Ellen’s corset. I came across a particular style called a fan-laced corset during my research, which I’ve also referred to as a “self-tying corset”—though it doesn’t actually tie itself! This type of corset can be tightened from the front, allowing the wearer to adjust it independently.For Robert, this design was ideal. When Ellen is in the throes of her supernatural connection with Orlok, the men around her—Sievers and Harding—try to impose control by tightening her corset. Because of the fan-laced design, we can see her anguish and convulsions, as well as the men’s oppressive actions, without needing to obscure her face or body by laying her prone. This moment is a perfect example of how research and storytelling can come together harmoniously in costume to enhance a scene." (x)

“Depp sees Ellen as a woman experiencing “a real loneliness as well as a nascent sexuality.” […] We’re talking about a time period where there was a lot less room for women and girls to be much of anything except for exactly what people wanted them to be. So, I think you feel that in Ellen, and you feel like the birth of all these new feelings, and she doesn’t really have anybody to talk to about it, or anybody to understand her … I think it’s a real source of shame for her, and one that she’s trying to come to terms with, and that’s what I think is so beautiful about her relationship with Von Franz, Willem’s character, because he sees her in this way and understands her, I think, in a way that she longs to be understood.” (x)

“Her [Ellen] true nature [takes over] in the end. She liberates herself by ripping herself open, ripping her striped dress open. She liberates herself by wearing the same garment over and over and over again when she's staying at Harding's home. So she's liberated herself in that she doesn't feel the need to dress up completely each and every day. And then she liberates herself completely in the end.” (x)

“What's so beautiful about the place that my character [Ellen] ends up is that it's tragic, and it is empowering. There's so much power in the choice that she makes.” (x)

Thomas: "I shall send for Doctor Sievers." Ellen: "No! No!! Please. I’ll be good, I’ll be good. You could never please me as he could."

“But isn’t it interesting that this female archetype who understands the dark side of humanity and is sexualized keeps being reconstituted as the savior of Victorian culture?”(x)

“Particularly in the 1980s, there was a lot of literary criticism talking about all these Victorian male authors who created these female heroines who have sexual desire and sexual energy, and then need to be killed and punished for that,” Eggers says. “It’s this misogynist thing. But I think a lot of female literary critics who I was also reading were saying, “But isn’t it also interesting that, from this repressed cultural period, there’s the idea of this dark, chthonic female heroine who would be the person who could understand the depths?” (x)

“she’s [Ellen] as much a victim of 19th-century society as she is a victim of the vampire. People talk a lot about Lily-Rose Depp’s character’s sexual desire, which is a massive part of the character, of what she experiences — being shut down, and corseted up, and tied to the bed, and quieted with ether. Misunderstood, misdiagnosed. But it’s more than that. She has an innate understanding about the shadow side of the world that we live in that she doesn’t have language for. This gift and power that she has isn’t in an environment where it’s being cultivated, to put it mildly. It’s pretty tragic. Then she makes the ultimate sacrifice, and she’s able to reclaim this power through death.” (x)

“There’s a lot of literary criticism about Victorian male authors who have strong female characters with chthonic energy and understanding, who are then punished unconsciously by the male authors by making them die. While there’s certainly validity in that [critique], I’ve also read feminist literary criticism that says how it’s interesting that in this very repressed Victorian society, over and over again, this archetype that was needing to consummate itself in the patriarchal imagination is a woman who understands the darkness and the sexuality and the earth juju, and should be the savior of the culture.” (x)

"Enchantress." "You are not of human kind." "I am but an able tourist in this occult world, you were born to it. It is a rare gift." "In heathen times you might have been a great priestess of Isis. Yet, in this strange and modern world your purpose is of greater worth. You are our salvation."

Ellen’s Vengeance: Vengeance (verb) and "revenge" (noun) are different things. "Vengeance" is "to avenge" (not "take revenge"), it's the achievement of justice (not personal retaliation), after being wronged by others. Both Ellen and Professor Von Franz are avenged by Ellen’s breaking of the Nosferatu curse because they are proven right when Victorian society says they are wrong. Ellen is avenged (or vindicated) because she has been medicalized, drugged and tied-up because of her mediumship (diagnosed as “melancholy” and “hysteria” by Victorian doctors), but it’s her empowerment through free sexuality (sex) and spirituality (death) that saves the day, and proves Victorian society wrong. She breaks the curse and frees them (herself and Orlok), and everyone else, from Nosferatu plague.

“Sacred wedding in a union sense”

“It was always clear to me that Nosferatu is a demon lover story.” (x)

“Skarsgård says. “Nosferatu” is “a very heightened fairy tale/dark story, but also it's two people potentially falling in love. It isn't love, it's something else, but love is maybe the closest thing to it that you can kind of relate to. If it's not love, it's a craving and it's an appetite and it's lust and desire to devour.” (x)

“It was clear to me from the beginning, and from what Rob [Eggers] was saying to me, it’s a love story with Count Orlok as much as it is with her husband. There’s a real love triangle there […] She carries so much darkness within her, and that he, in a way, is a manifestation of that darkness. And so she’s pulled towards him for a reason. and she calls out to him […] there’s a mutual yearning there.” (x)

“he’s [Orlok] the only person who can understand and fulfill a part of Ellen.” (x)

“this demon lover that attracts her, and she doesn’t know why, but somewhere there is a deep understanding there and a deep attraction.” (x)

“She's [Ellen] an outsider. She has this understanding about the shadow side of life that is very deep, but she doesn't have language for that. She's totally misunderstood and no one can see her [...] this demon lover, this vampire, who is the one being who can connect with that side of her." (x)

“Ellen’s husband loves her, but he can’t understand these ‘hysteric’ and ‘melancholic’ feelings she’s experiencing, and he’s dismissive of her. The only person she really finds a connection with is this monster, and that love triangle is so compelling to me, partially because of how tragic it is.” (x)

“[Orlok] represents a sort of forbidden desire for Ellen […] Eggers, for his part, was eager to bring out the sexual subtext of Nosferatu, calling his version a clear “demon lover story” and likening it to Wuthering Heights (which he reread while trying to crack the script) […] the only ‘person’ that she can kind of connect with is this demonic force, this vampire, this demon lover. [And] Orlok is also alone.” (x)

“Yes, it is a scary horror movie with a lot of dread and even some jump scares. But more than that, it is a tale of love and obsession and a Gothic romance.” (x)

“when Ellen and Orlok come together in the end, she's wearing a complicated multi-layered wedding outfit and all of the foundational pieces. And Orlok is wearing a number of garments. When we see them come together, that silhouette of the bride and the groom is very important. And so I go through the script with all of the other elements of prep and address those things.” (x)

“That final scene, is a different paint job. It's a little more sedate and not as visceral as the first time he comes out of the coffin. That was just to give it some sort of sense that there's some kind of twisted romance going on here, in a way. It wasn't just grossing everyone out. It's quite delicate. The beats that Robert's looking for, he's very good at pacing those things.” (x)

“The way they died in the play I did as a kid was very similar to what we ended up doing in the film. But I thought that what I had done in the play was wrong, and so I was trying to do something else. And then when we kept rehearsing with Marie-Gabrielle, and I realised that my instincts when I was 17 were actually spot on, it was much more about Orlok and Ellen’s relationship.” (x)

“Completion of some kind of destiny”

“I sent [Bill] a backstory of Orlok that I wrote. So we came to it together to achieve what I was after. Because I’m so tired of the heroic and sad vampires, I was just like, ‘He’s a demon. He’s so evil.’ Bill was like, ‘Yeah, but there needs to be some times where he has some kind of vulnerability.’ It’s very subtle, and it’s not there often, but it is enough. I think the ending of the movie is much more effective than it would have been without Bill’s acute sensitivity to that – while still delivering on this big, scary, masculine vampire”. (x)

“And while Bill was also doing what I was asking for, he brought more to the table too, particularly with binding moments where Orlok was vulnerable. I was so sick of the tropes of the sad vampire that I didn't want to go there. But Bill knew that it was important to still have the vulnerability in some places. And I think it makes the performance.” (x)

“Ellen’s most prominent evening dress is indigo with lilacs embroidered and beaded on the front and on the sleeves. This lavender hue subliminally underscores the connection between Ellen and Orlok, who remembers lilacs from when he was alive.” (x)

“What kind of trauma, pain and violence is so great that even death cannot stop it?” (x)

"Sated" from the Old English verb (late 16th century) "sit"; "rest" or "lie". "I cannot rest without you"; can't find peace in death without her soul by his side

“You wonder what is the dark trauma that doesn't die when someone dies. […] [So you suspect something terrible happened between them in real life and that this story was a way of grappling with that?] That's my hypothesis.” (x)

Reincarnation theme: Traumatic separation of souls, yearning to be united.

#Nosferatu 2024 #nosferatu 2024 interview #Nosferatu 2024 ending #Robert Eggers #bill skarsgård #lily rose depp #willem dafoe #Ellen Hutter 2024 #count Orlok 2024 #Thomas Hutter 2024 #Friedrich Harding #Anna Harding #professor albin eberhart von franz #professor Von Franz #dr Sievers

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eternallia · 3 days ago

Text

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 (𝐦)

albedo x fem!reader

➽ fandom: genshin impact

➽ genre: mild angst (with happy ending), eventual smut, eventual fluff

➽ summary: After a painful breakup, you haven’t been the same. He left you shattered, unable to move on—but Albedo was there. He wanted to help, and maybe, he could.

➽ tags & warnings: infidelity (not from albedo), explicit language, lots of alchemy stuff, slow burn, self-doubt, healing and self discovery, porn with plot (or more like plot with porn), smut: praising, teasing, breast play, cunnilungus, fingering, rough sex, pet names, unprotect sex, albedo changes when he has sex

➽ word count: 14k

note: after three years i finally wrote something again. sorry in advance, there's a lot of alchemy talk and stuff and i'm not an expert haha. still, i hope you like it!

The air in Dragonspine was frigid and biting, and the sound of the wind resonated with the walls of the campsite. Tears streaked down your cheeks, and they wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. Months had passed since the truth came out, yet your heart refused to move on.

There was a time when you were the happiest. Every aspect of your life was in order, and all the time you spent working hard was finally rewarding you. That changed when a particular person disrupted your sense of self and brought chaos into your life.

You once felt loved, cherished, adored… It all crumbled when he confessed his lies and betrayal, and your world shattered.

So many women were his one and only, and only his sheets knew the depth of his deceits. He only confessed after his lover got pregnant and he had to wed her.

Months later, you looked at the mirror and wondered when you had let yourself go. You used to be perceptive; you were smart, and you never allowed feelings to cloud your thinking.

Yet, where had that perceptive side of you gone?

You couldn’t remember the moment when you became so naive. All those lies, the half-truths, the changes, and his sudden distance were now crystal clear to you. Even so, you didn’t notice them when they were happening. Why?

Your past self would have never made this dumb mistake. There was a reason you were one of the assistants of the Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation of the Knights of Favonius. Working for him was the biggest honor and compliment towards you and your work performance since Albedo rarely allowed himself to spend time with people.

“Wake up, y/n.” You mumbled to yourself while you cleaned your wet cheeks with a handkerchief.

While reorganizing the mess you made on the desk, you came across the cause for your emotional breakdown: your ex’s letter. After admitting his betrayal, he begged you to forgive him and tried to convince you that you still could be together. There was no explanation as to why he thought that was possible, and despite your continuous rejections and refusals to see or talk to him, he wouldn’t give up.

That’s the reason why you had his letter. He delivered a letter every single day to your workplace. Days like today, when you would work in Dragonspine, he would make sure you got them one way or another.

He had no shame. He lied, he cheated, and he took you for granted. Every single person in Mondstadt knew what he did to you, and he still had the audacity to beg for you to listen to him, to give him another chance.

You took the letter in your hands and read it one last time. Holding the letter over the candle’s flame, you watched the corner catch fire and begin to burn.

Wouldn’t it be good if the fire could burn your sadness too?

With one last look at the letter, you threw it away and let it burn. The wind would take care of the ashes, not you.

Albedo could arrive at any moment, and you needed to arrange the campsite so he could continue with his research. Moreover, you needed to fix yourself so he wouldn’t notice your emotional state. No matter how much trust you had in the chief, you will never forgive yourself if you disappoint him.

“Where did I leave my notebook?” You mumbled, deciding to finally focus on your job.

Little did you know, Albedo had been watching you for a while. He had arrived some moments after you began crying and decided to wait until your emotional state improved before entering the campsite. He thought it would be best to not let his presence be known, but for some reason he remained close and observed how your inner turmoil destroyed your emotional stability.

He understood that tears were a response from the lacrimal glands, usually provoked by intense injuries or emotions. He noticed the redness surrounding your eyes, a clear indication that you had been crying. Albedo had known you for a long time, and he had never seen you display such behavior. As his assistant, you had experienced various injuries from experiments or attacks, yet none had affected you like this.

This wasn’t a reaction caused by an injury; this was a deep emotional wound.

Albedo has witnessed people consumed in sadness before, but your tears resonated with him more deeply. Is it because he truly cares about your well-being, or is it because of the rarity and discomfort of seeing you in such a vulnerable state?

You were his assistant, and along with Sucrose, you were the only one capable of working alongside him. Over the years, you have proved not only your amazing assisting skills but also that you were an outstanding alchemist. Sometimes, even Albedo was pleasantly surprised at your capabilities.

Even if you didn’t notice it, Albedo had a very high and positive opinion of you.

He wasn’t oblivious to the recent events in your personal life; every time he visited Mondstadt, he could hear the whispers of citizens who openly discussed the details of your ex’s affairs. And even if you tried to hide it from him, he understood how challenging it was for you to move on with your life.

You have always been capable, reliable, and diligent. To see you undone like this was beyond his comprehension. It unsettled him.

Moments after you finished cleaning your mess and arranging the tools and materials Albedo was going to use for today’s work, you heard footsteps approaching the campsite.

You looked up and saw him walking toward you.

“Good morning.” He greeted nonchalantly, “I see you’re already at work.”

“Good morning, Mr. Albedo. I just finished organizing the materials.” You tried to not look at him so he wouldn’t see your eyes, but you just couldn’t hide yourself from him.

Albedo, the Chief Alchemist, was an enigmatic man, just what one would expect from someone in such a prestigious position. His teal eyes had a sharpness that seemed to see through everything and everyone, including you. He was precise, calm, and methodical—qualities you once found intimidating but now respected. Handsome too, in an almost otherworldly way.

There was a time your eyes lingered a little too long on the curve of his smile, many years back.

He was your mentor and colleague, the person you admire the most.

Still, you panicked when your eyes met. And you just knew he saw the redness in your eyes.

“Did something happen?” Albedo politely inquired as he walked towards his desk, searching for his research notebook.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I've just had a lot on my mind lately.” You said, attempting to deflect the question in hopes he wouldn’t press for more.

“I see.” Albedo acknowledged as he grabbed a pen to begin his notes. Though you couldn't see it, a faint show of concern was etched on his brow.

You let out a sigh of relief, hoping he wouldn't pry further. You weren’t sure if he didn’t notice your emotional state or just decided to ignore it, but you were grateful for the lack of comments.

Albedo observed what you had prepared on the alchemist’s table and looked over the notes of the experiment. Everything was properly organized and ready to use, just as always. The only difference was a barely visible wet patch, proof of your earlier cry. He thought the wisest thing to do would be to keep quiet about it.

“Let’s start with the samples of the Frostglaze Crystals; let’s see what kind of information we can discover by analyzing its components.”

“Understood, Mr. Albedo.”

And so you began your experiment of the day. Recently, a group of adventurers decided to participate in an expedition to the depths of The Chasm. There were doubts of their success, but they surprised everyone with their return. Some of the members of the expedition worked in the Investigation Team of The Knights of Favonius and gave many samples and materials to the team. As the chief, Albedo decided to do some research on some of them.

As the experiment progresses, you are in charge of measuring and checking the ingredients, taking notes of everything, and handing Albedo everything he needs. He ordered; you did it. He needed something; you delivered. It was a mechanical process you had already mastered in your years working at his side.

But it seemed like today wasn't your day.

You were nervous, and your mind occasionally wandered to memories of your ex or the contents of the letter he sent you today. For some reason, you had managed to help Albedo directly so he could focus on his task, but more than once you forgot to write down information about the experiment.

Focus, y/n. You need to focus.

The results of this experiment could be a chance to discover its original form, and with it, its origins. You couldn’t make any mistakes.

So why did your mind keep remembering when your ex ventured to Dragonspine—without a vision—to bring you your bag of supplies you had forgotten in his house the night prior? His legs trembling, his rapid breathing, and his shocked expression after barely escaping from a Hilichurl.

You had never felt so scared, but so taken care of at the same time. He seemed so devoted to you. He was so caring. But your heart broke a little more when you did the math and realized he was already lying to you that time.

With a wobbling lip and your vision clouding, you failed to see that you poured too much of the aetherial distillate in the flask, and it overflowed. The crystal-clear liquid fell onto the open bottle of Luminis Essence and provoked an uncontrollable emission of colored smoke. You involuntarily inhaled the smoke and felt a burning sensation in your nose that caused you to cough violently.

You didn't even have time to react before Albedo quickly took control.

He neutralized the smoke by encapsulating the flask with geo crystals and moving it outside of the campsite. The remaining smoke quickly disappeared with the help of Dragonspine’s winds.

“Mistakes happen. There’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” Albedo said in a calm tone, almost soothing, when he returned to the campsite.

Yet you didn’t believe it. What if that smoke put your health at risk? In all your years working as an alchemist, you have never messed up this bad. What was worse, you had never committed a mistake in front of Albedo, never. And now, you had luck; it was just smoke. What if it was an explosion? What would you have done if there had been an explosion? What would have happened if you had ruined the experiment?

This wasn’t like you.

There must be something wrong with you.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Albedo…” Your voice was shaking, and your hands trembled. “I should’ve been more careful. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Tears welling up in your eyes.

Albedo remained silent for a few seconds, which made you feel worse than you already did. Then he finally spoke.

“Perfection doesn’t exist, particularly in alchemy. Errors are not only unavoidable but also part of the process. And often, these so-called ‘mistakes’ produce extraordinary outcomes.” His voice was soft and comforting.

For a second time in the day, there were tears streaming down your cheeks. You wanted them to stop, to hide them from Albedo, but you couldn’t do it. The disappointment swelling in your chest was a reminder of your failures—to Albedo, to your work, and most importantly, to yourself.

“You’ve been going through a complicated period in your life; don’t blame yourself for being human.” Albedo reassured gently, but it did little to soothe your guilt.

You sobbed while hearing his words. Albedo stood by your side, offering consolation, and you found yourself torn between chastising yourself for needing his comfort and wholeheartedly enjoying it. Little did you know, those words were what you needed to hear.

“I’m so, so sorry.” You managed to say between sobs, your tears blurring Albedo’s face.

He remained silent. Albedo turned his back on you and began cleaning the workstation and conceded some time to yourself, which you spent trying to calm yourself down. His mind raced with thoughts about what had just happened and what he should do now. You have been struggling internally and keeping everything from him, which makes him cautious about what he says. For some reason, he dislikes the situation.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally managed to compose yourself. As Albedo meticulously organized and cleaned all the remains of the Frostglaze Crystal and your disaster, his movements were purposeful but silent.

“Why…?” You sniffled. Albedo raised his gaze to look at you. “Did I ruin the experiment?” You would never forgive yourself if you had done that.

“We will continue another time.” It was all he said about it, and before your mood soured once again, he continued. “There’s something more important we need to do, and I need your assistance.”

Confused, you approached the desk in which Albedo was placing some papers with some sketches and notes. You haven’t heard anything from him about a new research or experiment. In fact, you usually were the one who managed those things. Perhaps Albedo forgot to mention this experiment to you.

Albedo’s eyes glinted with excitement as he declared, “There’s an idea I had for a few months that I would like to develop.” Albedo glanced up from the desk that was now full of papers filled with different types of information and drawings.

“I want to create a new catalyst.” He continued. You inhaled sharply at what he said, astonished at what he said, but remained quiet and let him continue. “One that draws elemental energy more efficiently to the wielder. To achieve this, we must conduct extensive research, find the proper materials, and fully understand the science behind elemental flow.”

Albedo revealed his notes scattered across the desk, showcasing various minerals, metals, gems, and sketches of potential catalysts. It was one of the most ambitious ideas you had ever encountered.

It was no secret that Albedo was an ambitious man when talking about alchemy and what he desired to discover. Although the main goal for his continuous research remained a mystery, he always sought to uncover every single thing in Teyvat in order to find the truth he so desperately wanted.

However, creating a catalyst, an object whose mechanism was already well-defined, was not something you ever anticipated to do in your time as Albedo’s assistant.

No matter how you reacted to this situation, you were sure you did it wrong.

“That’s where you come in.” Albedo declared, his eyes still looking at you.

You blinked in surprise, unsure if you had heard correctly.

“What do you mean by that…?” Your voice faltered. There was no way he would want you in such a challenging project; you must have misinterpreted what he said.

“I have worked alongside you long enough to see your capabilities and conclude your skills will be invaluable for this project.” He explained, his expression serene, contrasting sharply with your racing heart.

“You must be mistaken… Just a few minutes ago I was one substance away from creating a hazard.” He must have forgotten; it would explain why he was asking you this.

Albedo frowned at your words, and you almost regretted what you said. “I don’t appreciate the suggestion that I’m wrong when I’m not.” He said firmly. “I wouldn’t have invited you to participate if I didn’t believe in your abilities.” His gaze was unwavering.

“I—” It was difficult to articulate an answer after that. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure if your poor apology was directed to his words or to the lack of an appropriate answer.

However, could he really ignore your previous error and the disappointing performance you had in the past months? Although today was the first time you were at fault for committing such a mistake, you were sure you had been working poorly in comparison to the months prior to your breakup. Even though he kept quiet about it, you knew he noticed.

In your current state, it was difficult for you to understand why he had such a high opinion of you. If he needed support, Sucrose would be a much better option. Despite both of you being Albedo’s assistants, you took on a more administrative role while she often shared the same curiosity to experiment like Albedo did.

Albedo looked at you as you directed your gaze to the floor, shoulders slumped and fingers fidgeting. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, regretting his words.

Albedo took the sketch of an already existing catalyst and showed it to you. “This would be our starting point. We are not looking to create a catalyst from zero but a new type that is capable of enhancing the energy output and, if possible, autonomy. Alchemy should make it more efficient for the wielder’s elemental power.”

It made sense to you. Creating a catalyst wouldn’t achieve anything besides a self-sense of accomplishment for understanding the mechanisms it had to function as a channel of elemental energy. Albedo’s purpose for this project would be to improve the already existing mechanisms for better performance or, ambitiously, infuse autonomous abilities.

“Exactly.” Albedo agreed with a subtle smirk. The sudden sound of his voice startled you; you didn’t notice you were speaking out loud.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the satisfied look Albedo gave you.

“Have you started this project already? Do you have a concept model?”

“No, all of this here is already existing information of other catalysts and materials used for their fabrication. The idea I shared with you is something I had in my mind; maybe I have some notes in my notebook but nothing else.”

You hummed in response. Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t heard about this before.

You walked towards the desk to look at the information gathered. Crystal cores would help to stabilize the energy source, and the Cor Lapis could work as a solid base of the structure.

“The Whopperflower Nectar could help as an organic conductor of energy flow.” Albedo suggested while handing you a paper full of descriptions of the priorities of the nectar.

You leaned in to grab the paper, and your shoulders brushed Albedo’s arm. Both of you noticed but remained quiet and continued discussing the possible components of the catalyst.

“So… What do you think?” Albedo asked. He meant if you were going to participate in this project.

You were nervous, and there was a small amount of fear of you failing again. Due to the lies you discovered about your past relationship months after they happened, you didn’t trust yourself the way you used to. As a researcher, it hit you hard knowing you were incapable of figuring out the deceptions of your ex. Even though your job and your personal life were not related, you still view your situation as a consequence of your own uselessness.

Still, this project awakened something in you you hadn’t felt in a long time. Eagerness.

You hesitated, a little unsure about your answer. “It sounds…challenging.”

“That’s the point. We’ll work through it together.” He encouraged; his eyes gleamed with excitement.

After a few seconds of silence, you finally nodded. “All right, let’s do it.” Your heartbeat drummed loudly.

For the past few days, you had been working on the project of designing a catalyst with Albedo. It seemed inefficient to continue working at the campsite in Dragonspine. It was Albedo’s favorite location to do his research since it provided the commodity only the lack of people could offer: quietude. However, for a project that promised extensive research and long work hours, constantly traveling to Dragonspine would be too tiresome and time-consuming.

As a result, Albedo and you settled in working in one of the alchemy labs inside of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. It was the Chief Alchemist’s personal lab, one of the perks Albedo had as the chief. It was a big room, with bookshelves lined with tomes and research notes, a massive central worktable with a cauldron in the center, and some vials and scrolls.

The room was full of useful tools such as tubes, glass beakers, mortars, and pestles on every single surface you could see. However, you could still see Albedo’s influence in the lab. There were sketches pinned on the walls, some of formulas, others of Mondstadt and Dragonspine’ landscapes. You could even see some small wooden figurines in some corners.

As you progressed in your project, the space cluttered with the results of your research. Despite your excitement about the possibility of holding the end result of your work, there were steps that needed to be followed in order to achieve your final goal. First, you needed to conclude the theoretical outline of the catalyst. You were also doing some rough sketches and deciding the components it will have.

Over the course of this first step, your eagerness to work on the project grew each day, a rare spark of excitement that felt different from any other research. Yet, there was a lingering uncertainty that clung to you. Every time you made a move, you questioned yourself if you were truly capable of doing this. And no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, the hesitation never fully faded.

“Could you show the research log, please?” Albedo asked and extended his hand to you, waiting for it while his eyes were busy reading a scroll.

“Of course, here it is.”

Knights of Favonius Alchemical Research Log

Project Lead: Albedo

Research Assistant: Y/N

Project Title: Development of an Advanced Alchemical Catalyst

Lab Location: Knights of Favonius HQ—Alchemy Division

1. Research Objective

To create a catalyst infused with stabilized alchemical energy to enhance elemental control and efficiency.

To ensure the catalyst is safe, durable, and responsive to the wielder’s energy signature.

The following was a record of all the important information needed to proceed successfully with this research. Albedo put you in charge of documenting everything that will be fundamental for this, so you had been doing an exhausting research of all the materials and methods to use, hypothesizing the results, and substantiating the theory behind your project.

Albedo took the log from your hands. At some points of the day, he would read what you added to it and add his opinions.

“Looks good.” He acknowledged while returning you the log. “What did you gather about the materials to use for the core and frame?”

“It seems that Noctilucous Jade, Crystal Marrow, and Cor Lapis are the best initial candidates, but we still need to test them.”

“Explain.”

“The Noctilucous Jade reacts to elemental energy and has the potential to stabilize it, the Crystal Marrow increases the strength and toughness of metals, and the Cor Lapis could offer reinforcement to the frame due to its durability.”

Something that once was like a conversation between Albedo and you now made you feel apprehensive. There was this fear of forgetting what you were supposed to say or confusing the different answers in your head. Albedo was an expert alchemist; he could notice if you mistook condensate with concentrate.

If the questions become more difficult, would you be able to answer them?

“Where are the samples for the tests?” He raised his gaze and looked directly at you, his teal eyes making you nervous.

“I already requested them to be deliv…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence before the door creaked open, and a familiar voice hesitated at the entrance.

“Mr. Albedo? I have the materials you requested.”

Sucrose stepped inside, carefully balancing a wooden crate in her arms. There was a faint scent of minerals and damp stone along with a glow coming from the bottom of the crate.

“Sucrose! Perfect timing, thank you so much.” You ran to help her and grabbed the crate to leave it on the central table, next to the log you recently reviewed with Albedo.

“It's nothing. Please let me know if you need anything else; I’m glad to help.” She smiled at you and then handed you the list of materials you ordered in Albedo’s name. You peered inside and made sure all of them were in the crate before signing the list and returning it to her.

Sucrose adjusted her glasses. “Will you be synthesizing these components right away?”

Albedo hummed in thought. “Not immediately; we still need to test them in specific conditions. I expect a few adjustments before reaching anything stable.”

Sucrose nodded, her expression filled with quiet admiration. “Understood. Let me know if you need assistance.” With a final glance at you and an encouraging thumbs up, she excused herself and exited the lab.

Albedo then turned to you. “Shall we begin?”

Four weeks had passed since the start of the catalyst project. The lab was filled with notes, half-finished sketches, and an assortment of materials.

At this point you were basically living in the lab, only leaving at late hours of the night to go home to eat, shower, and sleep before returning in the morning after the same routine to the lab. Every day was a challenge. Once you got results or figured something out, a new problem appeared. You knew you were progressing fast compared to other alchemists, but every bump on the way felt like a mountain you had to climb in order to reach the other side.

Frustration crept in; after three days of being stuck on the same obstacle, you were slowly losing confidence. The repeated failures were taking a toll on your spirit. The eagerness and excitement you had at the beginning were slowly fading away. Your fingers tremble as you try to get the catalyst’s core mechanism to stabilize the flow of elemental energy, but it keeps flickering due to its instability.

You watch as the experiment fails… Again.

You can’t even manage a basic stabilization. Without it, you wouldn’t be able to continue with the rest of the steps.

No wonder he said you weren’t enough.

The memory of your ex resurfaced, and the shadow of his words loomed over you. His voice echoed in your ears, forcing you to remember his excuses when you begged him to tell you why he looked for others, why you weren’t enough for him.

You could feel your eyes stinging with unshed tears. Maybe he was right; maybe you weren't enough. For him, for your work, for your chief… You weren’t good enough for you.

“How is the stabilization going?” Albedo steps in, startling you and almost making you drop the experimental sample. You were so distracted with your inner thoughts that you didn't notice his presence.

He leans in, your shoulders brushing, and starts to examine the core mechanism and grabs it to look at it better. You are nervous, and some worry starts to set in as you look at how concentrated he seems. The self-deprecating remarks faded at Albedo’s calming presence. In these weeks working alongside him, you have become closer and more relaxed with him.

“What if the problem isn’t with the materials but rather with the energy flow?” Albedo suggested.

Why are the materials not the problem?

After the various rounds of tests to identify the most compatible and efficient materials to design the core mechanism, you knew they were perfect conductors of energy. If they weren’t, the core mechanism wouldn’t work at all. No flickering and no surging. So, in reality, the properties and refinement of the materials are perfectly adequate.

Why is the energy flow the solution?

The reasoning behind energy flow is that energy must travel through the right pathways to work efficiently. When talking about catalysts, they must direct and regulate their internal energy properly.

Then, what if the instability is caused by an imbalance in the pathways of the energy flow? You almost jumped from your seat to grab the blueprint and revisit the structure of the mechanism.

Imbalance.

An imbalance in the pathways…

There it is! You almost scream in delight when you finally see that there’s a misalignment in the channels causing an overload in one of the sections and a shortage in another. You quickly but carefully adjust the placement of the elemental core, shifting it by a few degrees to align with the pathways.

You were almost done; only the refinement was missing. You grabbed the engraving tool tightly, your pulse quickening. This was going to be difficult, but you knew you could do it. You adjusted the grooves, scraping away excess material and redrawing key lines, hoping to direct the flow more evenly.

For a moment, nothing changed.

Then, finally, the movement steadied, and it glowed, the energy moving smoothly through the patterns. You exhaled, tension still lingering in your shoulders, but relief washing over you.

“It’s working.” You wanted to cry, but this time in happiness. You did it.

Albedo’s hand came to rest on your head, his fingers pressing lightly in a quiet gesture of acknowledgment before pulling away. “Well done.” He smiled, and a strange warmth bloomed in your chest; you returned the smile.

You were capable of solving this.

You were good enough.

The once-busy corridors of the HQ were now quiet, the usual chatter replaced with the occasional echo of the few knights who remained in the building. It was late at night; the laboratory’s light was now dim. You were exhausted after a long day working on the catalyst’s experimental sample.

After completing the core mechanism successfully, you spent several weeks finalizing the design and gathering the materials for the first assembly of a non-functional model. Before making the experimental prototype, you needed to test the physical form of the catalyst. Fortunately, the complications were minimal, and the progress was advancing smoothly.

Despite your exhaustion, you felt a sense of accomplishment after all your hard work. Some doubt occasionally crept in, but you focused on something else, and you forgot about it. After all, Albedo was happy with the direction the project had taken and reassured you it was because of your work.

“I believe it’s getting late; we should wrap up for the day.” Albedo let out a tired breath as he put his pen down, rubbing his temple with his fingers. There was a heaviness in his movements, showing his weariness after a long day.

You noticed the drop of his shoulders and the way his eyes lingered on the mess on his desk; it seemed he had no energy to arrange anything. His blonde hair was even messier than any other day, some strands falling across his forehead. At some point he had taken his white coat off, revealing the dark fabric clinging to his body and making it hard to ignore how well it fitted him. Without his coat, he looked more relaxed and comfortable.

When your eyes met his, there was something different in the way you looked at each other. You weren’t sure if it was for the tiredness, the closeness, or the lack of contact with other people, but you wondered if you had ever truly looked at him before.

“I will make sure to arrange the place, Mr. Albedo. You can leave for the day.” You diverted your look to the mess on the desk. Even if you were exhausted, he looked weary too, and you could offer help.

“No, I will help you.” He informed you as he began organizing his things.

“There’s no need; I know you need some rest.”

The look he gave you indicated he thought you needed one too, and you felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You didn’t want to look at yourself in the mirror, but you knew there were bags under your eyes, a mess in your hair, and traces of dirt on your clothes.

“If we both help, we can leave earlier. Besides, it’s getting darker, and I don’t want you to walk to your house alone. I will accompany you.”

You blinked, caught off guard at his offer. Even if it wasn’t common, there had been instances when you had to walk home late and he didn’t offer to join you, but it was true this was the first time it was so late. Although Mondstadt was a rather safe city, there was still some danger lurking around.

“Oh, but you don’t have to…” But the way he tilts his head, as if the thought of not walking you home never even occurred to him, makes you trail off. Your heartbeat stumbles slightly. "...Alright."

After some time, you leave the Knights of Favonius HQ with Albedo by your side. The night air was cool and crisp, and the quiet atmosphere made you more aware of the sounds of the wind and low talk from the awoken citizens.

As you walk side by side, there’s a natural closeness between the two. These two months you have spent together working on the catalyst have forced the two of you to work in a reduced space for long hours of the day, making you interact in ways you hadn’t done before. There was more small talk than before; you laughed at the jokes Albedo occasionally said, he would reassure you every time you felt overwhelmed, and he would guide you when he noticed you were stuck in a dilemma.

With how busy you two were, it was not rare you just realized how your relationship had grown. A faint smile appeared on your lips at the thought of getting close to someone else again.

“You seem happy.” Albedo acknowledges, his eyes on you. Despite the lack of light, he noticed the content expression on your face.

“I just… I’m very honored you asked me to join you in this project; I never thought we would achieve so much.” It was true, the initial doubts you had in Albedo’s decision to help him were still there, but this has been one of the best experiences you had as an alchemist.

“My opinion still stands; you are the only one capable of doing this with me, and I was correct. Just a glance at the log and you can see how much you have contributed to it.” His words produced a warm sensation in you, delighted that someone like Albedo recognized your capabilities and effort.

“I still want to thank you.” As you walk, the moonlight suddenly makes you feel sentimental. “I used to think I could do anything as long as I had someone there for me, but then, when I had no one, I realized how wrong that was.”

There was a time you trusted your ex to be there every time you needed it. So, when he wasn’t there to hold you anymore, you fell.

“I’m finally learning that, even if there’s a sense of emptiness in my chest, I can support myself.” You hoped one day that emptiness would leave, but for the meantime, you were retaking control of yourself. “And I believe the opportunity you gave me helped me to realize that. So, thank you.”

You had arrived at your house. Both of you stood outside, facing each other. You hadn’t realized how close you were standing until now. The dim light of the moon cast a faint glow on Albedo’s face, highlighting the sharp contours of his face. His gaze, unreadable, rested on you.

Your heart stuttered.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you, but also the weight his eyes had on you. As if seeing something you still didn’t know. The space between the two felt smaller every second, almost allowing you to hear the sound of his breathing.

“You did that by yourself; I will not take any credit from it.” Even if his voice was very low, it was loud in your ears.

You swallowed, suddenly too aware of how his eyes flickered over your face, as if looking for something. He lifted his hand, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. The touch was barely there; yet, it was enough to make your breath hitch. Maybe it was you, but you felt his touch lingering for a second too long.

“...There was dust here.” He murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

Suddenly, you were hyperaware of everything he did. You glanced up; he was calm, focused, and heavier. A hint of a smirk emerged, and your pulse fluttered.

“Rest well; I will see you tomorrow.”

And as you watch him leave, you are left with a flood of emotions, wondering what happened. Unsure of where this is leading to, at least you were sure something shifted in your relationship with Albedo.

The shadow of your past was slowly fading.

It had been a week since the day Albedo took you to your home. Thankfully, the following days were as usual; you two were busy working on completing the experimental sample, and you were close to finding the right structure. However, you were unable to ignore how that moment you shared some nights ago had shaken the way you saw and interacted with him.

Your eyes now lingered too long on his movements; his eyes made you rethink what you were saying, and his smile drew your gaze to it. There was no stopping the little jump your heart did whenever his shoulders brushed yours, and you were worried about what this could mean to you.

The inner struggle you were having was making your head spin, and having to see and interact with Albedo most of the day was not helping. As a result, you decided to go out after finishing today’s work and go have dinner with one of the closest friends you had: Lisa, the Librarian of the Knights of Favonius.

It was an interesting relationship the two of you shared; she was like an older sister. She was much older than you, in a way that made you feel she had lived more than what she looked, but regardless of that, she had been one of your biggest supporters since you joined the Knights of Favonius.

Currently, you were waiting for Lisa at one of the tables at Good Hunter. Although it was night, the city was illuminated with the soft light of the lanterns. Its glow cast a golden pool of light over the restaurant, giving it a sense of warmth and making the night feel less lonely and more cozy.

You were lost in thought, staring at the candle on your table, absentmindedly circling with your finger the candle holder.

“Darling, unless you’ve obtained a pyro vision, I’d say that poor candle has endured enough of your longing stares.”

Lisa slid into the seat in front of you, propping an elbow on the table as she studied you with knowing eyes. There is nothing you can hide from her, and you shouldn’t even try to.

“What’s on your mind? And don’t say ‘nothing’; you’re far too deep in thought for that.” She warned and sent a wink towards Sara, the waitress, who chuckled and began preparing the food Lisa usually orders.

“Do you tend to order by winking instead of talking?” You made fun of her, and she raised her eyebrow at you.

“Believe me, cutie, a wink at the correct moment will get you anything.” You laughed at what she confidently said. “Go on, spill. You know I’m much better company than that flame.”

And so, you did. It wasn’t easy to admit what was going on in your mind as you felt embarrassed at the situation you were in, but Lisa had something that made you feel confident with her. The only downside is that you were not leaving this table without some teasing from her part. And at some point, Sara served you your food, and you both ate as you spoke.

“I see… So, you’re working late nights with the ever-enigmatic Chief Alchemist; he walks you home like a true gentleman, and now you find yourself thinking about him at odd hours? My, my, whatever could that mean?” Lisa smirked teasingly after you finished talking as she poked at her food with her fork.

“Don’t say it like that.” Your skin burned with embarrassment; she wasn’t going to let you off easily any time soon.

“He’s quite easy on the eyes, don’t you think so?” She provoked you, knowing damn well you agree with her. His handsome looks were something you noticed from the moment you met him; you just were more aware of it now.

“He is…” You shyly admitted. “But that doesn’t mean there’s something else; we just have gotten closer the last few months with all our work.” Lisa giggled at your poor attempts to excuse your feelings.

“Cutie, you can insist nothing’s happening all you want. But the way your eyes have a spark when you talk about him? That tells me everything.” Her gaze softens on you.

“It’s just complicated, Lisa.” You let out an exhausted sigh, your back resting against the chair.

“Is it really?”

“No… Mr. Albedo is certainly an attractive man, but this is not about that. We have spent too much time together because of the project; it’s natural that I… I don’t know; notice things about him.”

That was what you wanted to believe; these emotions you were feeling were just the effects of work overload and your proximity. In all the time you had worked as Albedo’s assistant, you were never under these conditions; that was the only explanation. Besides, there was a lingering thought at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t yet dare to bring it out.

“Besides, he’s my superior. It would be completely inappropriate for me to think of him in any other way.” That was another issue you couldn’t ignore; you were his assistant. How could you even think of him in an unprofessional way?

Lisa’s eyes sparkled with mirth at your words. “Ah, so that’s what is bothering you? The forbidden nature of it all?” She smirks, but before you can say anything, she continues. “I know what you think, darling, but is this really about your roles? Do you think that in the free city of Mondstadt, your dynamic as chief and assistant creates an invisible barrier between you two?”

“I—I don’t…” You couldn’t answer truthfully because Lisa was slowly pushing away every one of your excuses.

“There are many scholars and knights who worked under someone they admired and then began a not-so-professional relationship with them, you know? And no one had a problem with that; there are many examples in the city.”

She didn’t lie; no one batted an eye at those types of relationships. This wasn’t just about your growing awareness toward Albedo’s looks or touches; it was something deeper you didn’t want to admit. Yet, you had to. Because only by facing the truth would you move on.

You let out a sigh, deciding to finally tell her the real reason. “I guess I’m scared of what I’m feeling.”

The wounds of your past continued to make you doubt. Every day it was easier to deal with them as they were slowly vanishing from your mind. However, there was a wound you couldn’t get over, as someone you once trusted and loved left scars deep inside of you that made it difficult to see someone else as nothing more than friends.

Lisa gave you a soft and understanding look. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re hesitant, and that’s understandable. This is new, unexpected, and maybe you don’t feel ready. You’ve been through a lot, but don’t let the past decide how you feel about your present.”

You knew she was right. Only by letting the past stay in the past would you move on. Still, it was complicated; your ex was someone who caused more harm than good. Leaving him in your past was not easy.

“Has he left you alone?” She asked curiously; she knew how he refused to leave you alone.

“He keeps sending me occasional letters, but he doesn’t try to see me anymore. To be honest, I have been too busy to notice when he comes.” The last time you heard anything about him was four days ago when a knight notified you that you had received a letter, but you didn’t even accept it, telling him to throw it away.

“Mmm, maybe he is finally giving up?”

The possibility of that was low, but it would bring great relief to your life and your feelings. It had been like seven months since you ended your relationship with him; it was time for him to realize you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

As you wondered if you would finally be free of him, Lisa’s gaze drifted past you, her expression shifting just lightly. Her eyes dimmed, and her previous expression was replaced by something more calculating.

“Oh, darling. What a shame we live in such a small city.” She murmured, lifting her drink and taking a small sip.

She didn’t have to say anything to know what she meant. You turned your head and saw the last thing you wanted to see. Your ex was approaching the restaurant with his now wife next to him and his baby in her arms. They didn’t look like a lovey-dovey couple, but there was a proximity between them that wasn’t there the last time you saw them, many months ago.

It seemed like they didn’t notice you were there, as you weren’t the only ones in the restaurant, but once they were too close, he finally saw you. His eyes initially passed over you, not recognizing you at first, but something made him look again. His posture shifts, shoulders tightening as he looks away a little too fast.

A mocking chuckle leaves your mouth, and Lisa looks surprised at that, but how could you not laugh when his reaction is so different from seeing you when he's with his new family? Before, he would almost cry, go after you, and just look at you with clear sadness and regret in his eyes. Now, he clearly looked uncomfortable.

Like Lisa said, has he finally given up? Or is it the guilt of showcasing his new relationship in front of his ex?

“I don’t get it; Albedo is much more pleasant to see than him. Besides, he is rather charming in his own way.” Lisa compared Albedo with your ex, clearly wanting to lighten the mood.

Her words made you think. Your ex was by no means an unattractive man. After all, there was a reason for how he had many women enchanted over him behind your back. He had his brown hair neatly styled, and his honey-colored eyes carried a certain charm. He was of a strong build, not overly muscular but well-proportioned. Overall, he was the kind of person who looks effortlessly put together.

However, Lisa was right. The first time you saw him, you remember thinking he looked inhumanly beautiful. His platinum-blond hair catches the light of the sun, his teal eyes drown you without effort, and his light skin is smooth. His presence was impossible to ignore as his beauty was delicate yet arresting. He was ethereal.

“It doesn’t bother me…” Was what you said after remaining quiet for a few seconds? Your thoughts had drifted away after thinking of the situation.

You were no longer staring at your ex, deciding to ignore them and focus on how you felt about the situation. You saw him, and for a moment you felt the heartbreak, the self-doubt, the nights wondering if you were ever enough for him. But as he stood there, you saw a stranger; there was no longing, no anger, and no resentment. The only thing you felt was the weight of his actions, which harmed the way you saw yourself.

That’s what it hurts. You didn’t suffer for losing him, but you did because you lost yourself in the process.

“You’re right, Lisa… Albedo is much more interesting than him.” You jokingly said, refusing to give more attention to the new and happy family behind you and eating the food from your plate.

And as you refused to acknowledge them anymore, they stood there, unable to get closer to the restaurant they had decided to have dinner to have one of their weekly ‘bonding moments.’. That’s how the father of the wife said to force them to present their newlywed status.

Lisa saw everything. The way their eyes looked at you, one with yearning and guilt and the other with anger and envy. The innocent baby is asleep, ignorant of everything. And in a moment you were too distracted to notice, she mischievously grinned and pointed out for them to leave.

And they did so without complaining.

As the night progressed, Lisa kept asking and teasing you, more interested in encouraging you to acknowledge your growing feelings for Albedo. Making sure the topic of your ex remains buried in the past.

Every day you were closer to the ending of the catalyst project. The lab was a mess; there were papers scattered across the table, pieces of the different parts of the catalyst, and some of the tools had fallen to the ground. The experimental sample was completed, Albedo designed a perfect model for the catalyst, and you analyzed the components and structure to do the final adjustments. With the completion of that, you could move on to the experimental prototype.

This was the first example of how the catalyst was going to be, and it’s where you were going to test everything you did until this point.

It was an unpredictable phase; you had already discovered some failures and mistakes you previously did in the construction of the parts, but the prototype was working. Unstable, but working.

Your fingers ached, but you barely noticed—or cared. The last few days were blurry in your mind; you had spent hours bent over work, scribbling and rewriting. You barely registered; you hadn’t eaten much in the day, and it was only when Albedo reminded you that you dedicated some time to eat.

There was no time to waste; the project had to be completed, and you were so close to completing it.

As you struggled to piece together a solution for the overheating issue, you didn’t notice how Albedo’s fingers brushed over the tools and papers scattered on the table, subtly organizing them in a way that made it easier for you to use them. You also didn’t see how Albedo pushed a paper with some information about heat dissipation mechanisms, too engrossed in your task.

“That’s not how you do it.” You exhaled sharply, rolling your shoulders back.

Maybe if you placed some conduits, it would redirect the heat to secondary components that can handle higher temperatures. You grabbed the paper Albedo discreetly handed and confirmed it could be a solution.

You barely registered the way Albedo leaned against the desk next to you, arms crossed and his eyes watching intently what you were doing. You noticed how the candlelight softened his features, a stark contrast to the usual sharpness he carried.

However, there was no time to think about it. If you start to think about him, it is going to be difficult to focus again. Right now, you couldn’t distract yourself.

It was complicated to explain how and when you had taken control of the catalyst project; in fact, you didn’t remember. Yet, you knew two things: doing this was making you feel like an alchemist again, and you wanted to prove to yourself—and Albedo—you could be one.

And when you tested the results of adjusting the temperature conduits and succeeded in fixing the overheating problem, you knew you couldn’t stop.

No matter how exhausted you were, this was a test for you to see what you were capable of. And you were determined to win.

Something was missing.

The catalyst was technically completed. Of course, the only stage left was the tests with the help of the vision-holders. However, when you observed the catalyst to see if everything was done, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it needed something else.

The reinforcement was done, the fine-tuning too; you double-checked everything and didn't find any errors. As you traced your fingers on its surface, you wondered what it was missing. And when you reached the middle of the catalyst and saw the blank and smooth surface, you knew what it was.

With steady hands you grabbed the rune carver and engraved the constellation of Aries. Just a little but meaningful touch for you. When the engraving begins glowing, you exhale in relief.

The prototype was, as you knew, completed. Now, it feels complete.

Hearing footsteps approaching, you turned around and saw Albedo, his eyes fixed on the completed prototype of the catalyst and observing every detail. Your heart was pounding in your chest, anxiety beginning to creep up. His gaze then turned towards you, and as your breath hitched, he grinned brightly, and his eyes shone with something inexplicable.

He placed his hand on your shoulder and spoke. “You did it, congratulations.”

“No! Thank you, Mr. Albedo.” You were flustered; for a moment, you forgot this was Albedo’s research project.

“Mmm, why are you thanking me?” His grin turned into a full smirk, and you suddenly had the feeling he knew something that you didn’t.

“Because this is your project?” There was confusion in your voice as you watched him hide a laugh. “So, I appreciate you letting me work with you on this. It was an incredible experience.” And it was, you were incredibly thankful.

“Was it?” He took a step back and perched on the edge of the table, crossing his arms.

“Yes?”

“This was my idea, yes… However, is it correct to call it my catalyst project?” He asked you, challenging you to decipher the meaning behind his words.

You were utterly bewildered.

This was Albedo’s research project; he presented the idea of creating a catalyst enhanced with alchemical procedures, and you worked alongside him to complete it. Whatever Albedo was saying, you still didn’t get it.

Albedo chuckled at your expression, grabbed a pile of documents, and handed them to you.

It was the research log. As you flipped through the pages, looking for what you were supposed to find out, something caught your eye.

Knights of Favonius Alchemical Research Log

Project Leader: Y/N

Research Assistant: Albedo

Project Title: Development of an Advanced Alchemical Catalyst

Lab Location: Knights of Favonius HQ—Alchemy Division

Your name. Not longer under research assistant, but under project leader. You read it again, thinking it was a mistake. When the project began, you remember writing it down with Albedo as the leader and you as the assistant. But no, the roles were, in fact, inverted. Your name held the title of leader of the research, while Albedo’s was listed beneath yours as the assistant.

And suddenly, you realized what he was trying to tell you. You thought back to every moment you had taken control of the research and every time Albedo stepped back to allow you to take control. At one point, he stopped instructing you and just guided you when you needed it. The hints had been there, but you had been too deep in the work to notice it. And as you skimmed through the pages, you saw how Albedo had annotated every record of the research after you—without noticing—stopped annotating.

Your hands tightened around the log, and you felt like tears would come out at any moment.

This was never his project to complete. It was yours.

You lifted your gaze to Albedo, who watched you with quiet satisfaction, as if he had been waiting for you to see it for yourself.

“Congratulations for your hard work, Project Leader.” His smile turned soft as he watched the emotions in your eyes.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Albedo’s eyes followed it as it fell. As you reached to wipe it away, you noticed the tremble in your fingers.You were still processing everything—the completion of your work and the weight of your journey—when something warm brushed against your skin.

Albedo’s thumb, gently, caught the tear before it fell further. His touch lingered for just a moment, grounding you, as if he was acknowledging everything you had to go through to reach this moment.

Everything from the emotional mess you were at the beginning, all the self-doubt and struggles, to this. You did it.

“Why?” You needed to ask, needed the answer.

Albedo didn’t step away, remaining close to you. “You went through difficult times, and you lost yourself in your grief. It felt as if you were shattered, and no matter how hard you tried, the pieces wouldn’t fit back together.”

He confessed what you once were scared of; he noticed your broken state. Your tears, your breakdowns, your emotional distress, your failures.

“And there was a strange feeling inside of me, urging me to do something, to not let you suffer anymore. And I asked myself, What can I do?” His thumb traced the path of your jawline as his eyes followed it. “But this was your own battle, and I had no right to interfere. You were the one who had to do it.”

His thumb was exchanged with his fingers, and he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so serene while looking at you.

“So I decided to motivate your alchemist self.” He knowingly smiled. “The y/n I knew, with the right motivation, would invest herself in an alchemy challenge. You doubted at the beginning and trailed behind me, but you slowly strayed away from my lead and took control. Over time you healed, and there was again that shine in your eyes.” Suddenly you noticed you two were not that far from each other, mere inches separating you. “I’m glad you're back.”

The words hung between you two, sinking into your chest with the weight of something you couldn’t yet name. Albedo planned this. Not for the sake of alchemy, for knowledge, or for an award. He did it for you. He had seen as you lost yourself and helped you build a path to lead you back.

The realization sparked, a warmth spreading through you. He had always been there: watching and guiding you. And now, standing so close to each other, you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. You felt it.

The awareness of him.

The way his presence destabilized you. The way his eyes, usually so composed, softened when they met yours. The way his lips parted, as if he wanted to say more, but the space between you had grown too thin.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. For so long you had dismissed the flutter in your chest, refusing to admit he was something more than your chief alchemist. But now, there was no running from what you were feeling.

You wanted him. And when your gaze crossed with his, you realized he wanted you too.

He tilted his head lightly, watching your reaction as the distance began to disappear, but you didn’t back away. You got closer to him, your breaths mixing. His lips brushed yours so lightly it felt like a caress.

And then, you finally kissed.

It started as a fleeting touch, barely there. It was careful, uncertain, and testing. The warmth of his lips, the way he exhaled softly, sent a shiver down your spine. But then, you responded. Your fingers curled into his coat, and you pulled him closer. He inhaled sharply against your mouth, and whatever restraint he had was shattered.

The kiss turned urgent. His lips pressed hard, parting, molding against yours in a desperate hunger that wanted to consume you. His hands were everywhere at once, one with its fingers tangled in your hair while the other slid up your spine, pulling you close to him as he kissed you deeper.

You met him with the same passion, your hands sliding up to his chest and then up to the back of his neck, fingers tingling in his soft hair. Your heartbeat was pounding so hard, you were sure he could hear it too.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip before soothing the bite with his tongue, and a soft sound escaped your throat that he greedily swallowed. His tongue teased against yours, sending a shiver through your body. Your tongues clashed, battling to see who was more hungry for the other, savoring the moment.

And as he pressed forward, pushing you against the desk behind you, he left no space for anything but him. He was consuming you whole, but just a kiss, a kiss you never wanted to end.

But in your growing passion, you bumped hard into something, and you suddenly felt how Albedo covered you from the falling of several books and objects. Your lips separated due to the surprise, the tickling feeling far from disappearing, reminding you of your heated exchange.

“Careful.” His hoarse voice whispered against your ear, making you feel hot in every part of your body.

You had bumped into one of the bookshelves in the lab, the one you also used to put your belongings every day when you arrived. And as you two caught your breath, your eyes caught the sight of something that left you in disbelief.

There, in between your belongings that had slipped out of your bag, was a jeweled amulet. It was a small turquoise stone with an almost translucent glow. Encased inside was a design of tri-feather wings with a diamond-shaped tail at the bottom. You stared at it, dazed, unable to grasp what it was and what it was doing there.

It was a vision. An Anemo Vision.

You were frozen, obviously confused. You didn’t have a vision. Was this a mistake?

You reach out to grab the vision, and realization hits you. This was yours. And when you look at Albedo, expecting him to be as surprised as you, you discover he is simply smirking.

“It was to be expected.”

It was like the emotions wouldn’t stop pouring out from you this day. As you held your newly obtained vision, you realized what you led here. To this moment. All this time you thought you were trying to prove yourself again, but in fact, you were becoming yourself again. You finally let the tears flow as you rested against Albedo’s body; he welcomed you in his arms. This time, the tears were of relief and happiness.

And this vision was proof of your journey.

It had been some weeks since the day you and Albedo kissed for the first time and since the vision found its way into your hands. You still were unsure about the meaning it had; sometimes you were entranced looking at it, as if its soft glow forbade you to forget you were now a vision wielder.

However, you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You had continued to work on finalizing the catalyst, moving to the final product. During your time together, your relationship began to shift. You weren’t sure what to call the relationship, but it was there, growing little by little. With every look, every touch, every kiss.

And after a total of eight months of research and hard work, the catalyst was finally complete. And tonight, the Knights of Favonius had organized an event in which the different divisions would showcase something, and you would present the catalyst to the knights, the scholars, and the interested citizens of Mondstadt.

The Knights of Favonius had transformed the plaza outside of the headquarters into a lively festival. There were rows of wooden stalls and a few makeshift pavilions. Each and every one showcasing different projects, such as magical items, blacksmith weapons, and different types of strategy or knowledge-oriented books. There were a lot of people wandering between the exhibits and enjoying the event.

At the center of it all stood a raised platform, reserved for the most anticipated presentations of the evening. That was where you were going to present your completed catalyst. You were nervous, but the anticipation was bigger than any other feeling.

“Show them what you can do.” Albedo encouraged you with a grin, softly kissing your hand before you left for the stage.

“I never imagined you would be such a chivalrous man, Albedo.” Lisa teased as Albedo approached where she was sitting, waiting for you to do your showcase.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he took a seat next to her, crossing his arms while his eyes followed your nervous yet confident form.

“Oh, don’t play coy. I’ve never seen you so attentive before. It looks like you are acting like a gentleman in love.”

Albedo pauses, tilting his head slightly as he processes her words. “Is that so? It’s a simple and natural response; I care about her, and I want to cherish her.”

Lisa chuckles, enjoying Albedo’s confession. “My, my… Such a romantic man; looks like Y/N is a lucky woman.”

Albedo didn’t answer anymore, but he could feel the heat rush to his face. He watched as you spoke in front of the public, describing the process of designing and constructing the catalyst you held in your hands as they listened intently. There it was again, the rapid beating of his heart when you smiled and your eyes shone.

The last eight months were also a battle for him, as he questioned what he was feeling for you. He was a rational man, someone who had never gone through the experience of a real romantic relationship.

So, when the feelings arose in his mind, he tried to rationalize them, incapable of understanding the real meaning behind them. Then, he realized that’s not how feelings work. The feelings only grew with each interaction with you, even if it was a simple conversation. He couldn’t stop looking at you, paying attention to every detail of what you did.

And then he finally understood what attraction felt like and wondered how it would feel to have you against him, his lips on yours. Then, he did. He had you exactly where he wanted you for such a long time, and he knew this was just the beginning.

As you presented, with a careful flick of your wrist, the catalyst sparked with life and floated around you. People gasped in surprise as wind began circling around you in playful swirls, and the public marveled at how flowers and leaves floated around the place, creating a beautiful scenery.

“Remarkable!” Sucrose whispered in excitement as she joined Lisa and Albedo to watch your presentation. “Didn’t she recently obtain her vision?” She was amazed at the control you had over the element.

“She did.” Lisa said proudly, side-glancing at the main culprit of your amazing control of Anemo, who was too busy smiling at you to notice. Even if Albedo didn’t have an Anemo Vision, he still helped you to master the basics of elemental wielding.

When you finished your showcase, you thanked everyone for their attention, a wide grin on your face as you felt the excitement and pride of what you had accomplished. When you joined Albedo, Lisa, and Sucrose, you basically jumped to hug Albedo.

“How did I do?” You excitedly asked Albedo, reflecting your thrilled state.

He held you by the waist with a proud look on his face, and he caressed your cheek as he spoke. “That was the best showcase of the night.”

You giggled at his words, completely unaware of Lisa and Sucrose's secret exchange. Although you and Albedo have always been close, they could have never predicted the growing romantic relationship between the two of you. Yet, they were happy for the two of you. Seeing you smile again after so much time made them realize how much they missed your happy self.

“Lisa… should we interrupt them?” Sucrose discreetly asked her as she watched you and Albedo still hugging. “I want to congratulate y/n.”

“Not yet, darling. Give them a few seconds more; they are enjoying each other.” Lisa laughed at Sucrose’s blushed face.

With the three of you too distracted to notice, Lisa was the only one to pay attention to the person who was looking at you and Albedo. Your ex was there, his gaze darting between Albedo and you, his expression unreadable. But Lisa, ever perceptive, caught the unease that crossed his face, her lips curving slightly in amusement.

“Interesting.” She murmured, just loud enough for Sucrose to hear. “Some people are more entitled than what you would think.'"

“What do you mean?” Sucrose asked, confused over Lisa’s words.

Yet, Lisa didn’t answer. Sending your ex a threatening glance made him run away from the place in a hurry. At that moment, Lisa decided to personally take care of him if he refused to finally give up after seeing you with someone else. He wouldn’t ruin your new happiness, not on her watch.

After the event was finalized, you said goodbye to Lisa and Sucrose, thanking them for coming to see you and promising to go out with them soon now that you had more free time. To celebrate the conclusion of the project and the success of the showcase, you decided to invite Albedo to your house to rest in front of the fireplace after having a nice meal in one of the restaurants in the city.

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow in the room as you rested your head on Albedo’s shoulder. You were a little tired after the busy but exciting evening, but now, in the comfort of your home, everything felt softer. Albedo had helped

“Thank you.” You murmured, the quietness in the room allowing him to hear you perfectly. “For everything you did for me.”

Albedo’s gaze lowered to meet yours. “I barely did anything; all of this happened because of you. You never needed me.” His words were gentle, yet there was something warmer than usual in his tone.

You smiled, shifting your position just enough to look up at him. Your faces were close now, the firelight flickering over his face, giving him a soft look on his usual sharp expressions. His arm moved slightly, making his fingertips brush against the skin of your back, sending a pleasant shiver through you. Your heart picked up its pace when his gaze dipped, lingering on your lips for just a second too long.

Neither of you spoke as you leaned in, finally closing the small distance between the two of you. His lips were soft and warm as they pressed to yours, gentle and slow. His free hand came up, his fingers tracing over the skin of your cheek as the kiss deepened. A delicious sound rose in the back of his throat as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to you.

Then, you traced your fingers along the nape of his neck to his back, and you dug your nails in it. That was all it took.

Albedo inhaled sharply before his restraint broke entirely. His hand slid into your hair, gripping just enough to tip your head back as his mouth moved against yours with sudden, burning intensity. A loud moan escaped your mouth when his tongue brushed against yours. Your hands pulling him even closer to you, as the kiss turned heated and messier, filled with the want you two had for each other.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” He pulled away for a few seconds, his breathing uneven as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Don’t you dare to stop.” You pulled him back at him, your answer clear in the way your lips crashed against his once more.

He pressed his body against yours, trapping you between him and the bed of pillows and sheets you put together before. You were surrounded by his warmth and scent, his tongue exploring your mouth and his hands your body. He traced the shape of your hips and moved towards your legs, gripping your thighs as he parted them to accommodate between them.

You moaned into his mouth when his lips moved to your neck with urgency. You were burning when his breath hit your skin, his tongue following and leaving a wet trail. A gasp left you when his teeth scraped against your skin, you clutching at the back of his head. He let out a low, satisfied hum against your throat when you tangled your fingers in his hair and wrapped your legs around his hips.

Then, you felt it. His erection dug into your lower stomach, making the wetness between your legs increase, aching for him.

“Take this off.” You begged Albedo as your hands hurried to try to take off his shirt, clearly struggling.

He chuckled at your poor attempts, and he helped you to remove his shirt, throwing it away as he returned his eyes to you. His body was lean but toned, each line and curve undeniably striking. The sharp cut of his collarbones, the shape of his shoulders, the subtle definition of his muscles… It was as if he was sculpted. Your hands touched the warm skin, enjoying the feeling of such a beautiful body underneath your hands.

“You should take off yours too…”

Albedo slowly slipped his fingers under the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head with ease. You couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes traced over the appreciative look as he took his time to observe your naked torso, his eyes staying a little too long over your breast.

“Beautiful.” Was the last thing he said before he dipped his head to press kisses against your collarbone, slowly moving towards your breasts?

You felt his warm lips brush over your breasts, kissing the sensitive skin and leaving behind a trail of heat wherever his lips touched. His hand found its way to your waist, gently massaging the soft flesh as he moved lower and lower, his kisses turning into wet, open-mouthed kisses.

He nipped at your soft skin, his tongue flicking over your hardened nipple, as his other hand massaged your other breast. Your moans turning louder as his teeth brush over the overstimulated skin of your nub, you couldn’t see it, but you felt his smirk against your skin, enjoying the sound of your breathless sounds.

Albedo’s mouth leaves your breasts and moves down, leaving wet kisses on the valley of your breasts and your abdomen, his hands replacing his mouth and continuing to play with your perky nipples. He softly blows against your skin, and your breath hitches, but then his mouth encounters your pants, stopping him from going lower.

“Raise your hips, gorgeous.” He orders as his hands move to squeeze your hips, and you do as you are told.

When you raise your hips, he quickly drags your pants down along with your undergarments and again, throws it away to some place in your home you don’t care about.

You can see the lust in his teal eyes as he has you exposed to him, the place between your legs glistening with your wetness and almost ready for him. “Such a pretty pussy.” He says before he dives between your legs and covers your core with his mouth, lapping up your arousal.

“Ah!” Your hands grasp his hair as you moan and writhe.

His tongue played with your sensitive clit while he slowly introduced one finger inside of you. The sensation made you whimper; your hips jumped at the unexpected stimulation, making Albedo grab your hips tightly with his free hand so you couldn’t move. As his finger delved deeper in your insides, his tongue was flicking your nub and circling it with deliberately slow movements.

“More…” You desperately begged.

“Want more?” He looked up to you, his eyes burning with passion, and when you nodded, he smirked. “Then, I will give you more. Make sure you can handle it.”

He returned to your pussy with a ravenous hunger and began sucking your juices as if he couldn’t get enough. His finger turned into two, pumping inside you mercilessly. The sudden change left you breathless, your head falling back in utter bliss. You felt the fire growing inside you; the only things that came out of your mouth were the sounds of his name and unintelligible sounds and moans.

“You like that, gorgeous?” Albedo knew you liked it; he could see it in how you were losing yourself in the pleasure he gave you, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Yes!” You barely managed, you say, too lost in your mind to think straight. His fingers stretching out your walls with every thrust, his mouth sucking on your sensitive clit, was almost too much; you could feel your climax approaching.

“Then cum.” He ordered, and your vision faded to black as your body shook uncontrollably.

Your hands held onto his hair, the sensation of your orgasm too strong and intense to focus. You came around his fingers, his mouth continuing to overstimulate your body, as he lapped the juices spilling out of you.

He left your pussy and went for your mouth, kissing you deeply as you tasted yourself in his mouth. A grunt came out of his throat as your tongue wrapped around his, your body slowly calming down with his caresses on your body. Albedo broke the kiss and placed himself between your legs, his thick cock inches away from your entrance. You didn’t know when he had taken his pants off, but you were thankful he did it. You could only admire the sight of it, the tip glistening with precum, and the size and girth were fucking perfect.

Such a pretty cock for a pretty boy.

“You want this?” He dragged his cock between your folds, and you shuddered at the feeling.

“I want it, Albedo. Please, put it in.” You begged, your previous orgasm forgotten and ready for more. He smirked, leaning down to kiss you before lining himself up in your entrance.

“Then take it.” He pushed hard, and your mouth opened wide, a moan escaping you at his cock finally filling you up.

Your body was still sensitive, but, God, did you feel good at your insides being deliciously stretched out. And when Albedo was completely inside of you, you couldn’t be happier to be stuffed full by him.

The feeling was addictive, and you two wanted more. Albedo didn’t make you wait any longer; he pulled out and thrust back in, setting a slow and steady pace. His lips went for yours, the kiss messy but passionate as your walls closed around his cock. Your body was hot, and you felt so good you couldn’t contain the moans coming out of your mouth.

“That’s it, pretty, let me hear how much you like it.” He whispered in your ear, his voice low and hoarse.

Albedo thrust into you hard, and you screamed in pleasure, your nails digging into his back. His thrusts grew harder and rougher, making you jolt when his tip touched a special spot deep inside of you. The sound of your wetness when his cock hit your pussy was obscene, but you loved it. His mouth went for your neck, marking the skin with every thrust, leaving the skin purple and red.

He was making you feel so good, and you never wanted him to stop. One hand found your breast, his thumb flicking and pinching your hardened nipple, while his mouth sucked on the other. He bit and licked the hardened nub, making sure to treat it just right.

Everything he did was driving you insane, and you could feel your second orgasm coming closer and closer.

But Albedo was going faster and harder, making your mind go blank and your voice come out louder. Your walls closed tighter around him, and the man above you moaned loudly at the sensation.

“Are you close?”

You only nodded, unable to form an answer. His free hand went for your clit and began to rub fast circles around it, causing you to arch your back at the overstimulation. He kissed you, swallowing every sound from your mouth, and his cock twitched inside of you, signaling that he was also close.

“Will you come with me, pretty girl?”

Again, you could only nod, too lost in your ecstasy to form a coherent answer, but that was enough for him. Albedo smiled, kissing you and biting your lower lip as he tugged at it.

“Then let’s cum together.”

And as he rubbed your clit faster, his thrusts became sloppy. With one last thrust, you came with a loud moan, and Albedo followed behind, coming inside of you. Your body went limp as you felt the shockwaves of your orgasm traveling in your body. You could barely register anything besides the intense pleasure.

Albedo slowly pulled out of you, making you almost sob at the loss of his cock and the feeling of emptiness, and you could swear you almost cried at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you.

He chuckled at the sight of your state, seeing that you still were out of it.

“I guess you are very sensitive.” Albedo said as he wiped some hair away from your sweaty forehead. You could barely nod at his statement. “It’s ok, I like how you look right now.” Maybe one day, you would let him paint how devastating you look right now.

As your high settled down, you saw Albedo coming back from some place in your home with a towel in his hand. Your eyes tracing every inch of the naked and sweaty skin. He grinned when he caught you staring at him.

“Stare at me all you want, but let me clean you.”

“Alright.” You smiled shyly, allowing him to clean the mess between your legs.

He did it gently, the once passionate man long gone, his soft and tender fingers cleaning his cum mixed with your own slick. You flinched slightly at the sensation of the towel over your very sensitive skin, making Albedo stop and look at you with concern. You mumbled, ‘It’s fine,’ and he continued to clean. When he finished, he left the towel on the closest surface and returned to lie down next to you.

The room was quiet now; the only sound was your soft and steady breathing. The warmth of the fireplace warming your naked bodies. You traced lazy circles on Albedo’s chest, your touch light but absentminded. Your thoughts drifted, thinking of how you once felt lost and alone, but you were here. Happy. With Albedo hugging you as he played with your hair, the sound of his breathing offered comfort and made you feel whole.

You tilted your head and found Albedo already looking at you. His eyes are soft and gentle, studying every detail of your face. You wanted to laugh; the man who gave the best sex of your life was gone. Yet, you didn’t mind. You liked the calm and rational Albedo more than anything, as he was the one who supported you when you needed it.

“Be mine.” He murmured, his voice a whisper.

It sounded more like a statement than a question, but you knew he wanted to hear your acceptance. Giddiness surged in you, and you giggled.

“I already am.”

And as the night deepened, the time slowed down. The both of you continued to savor the taste of the other, enjoying each other’s company.

This time, there was no sorrow, no doubts, and no pain. Just the beginning of a new future. Yet, this time you were at peace.

You had once loved someone so much that you lost yourself, but the man next to you didn’t bring you down like him. This man helped you find yourself again. He hadn’t just stood by her—he had lifted you, helped you rebuild the pieces of your heart, and made you realize that you were worth more than the past.

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