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#I could not find reference I was happy with for so LONG that I nearly used a picture of me and a friend but thankfully

hoshigray · 14 days

Note

Are you able to right a gojo fic? He pulls you aside after a meeting to a spicy makeout with you that leads to more than just a make out:,)

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: "more than a make out" indeed, lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit reader; minors DNI - canon divergence; you're gojo's partner who works in Tokyo jujutsu tech with him - kissing; making out - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - breast sucking - deep impact position - praising - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, princess, sweetie) - cameos: Ijichi and Yaga - Gojo is a touch-starved fool, bless him lol.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

“Y/n~~!”

“…! Oh, Gojo!”

“Ahh, it’s Gojo-sensei!”

Being the strongest sorcerer in the modern world is a hassle, no matter how much Gojo loves to shake it off as if it’s not. Not that he doesn’t mind it — no, no. If anything, he prides himself in it. It fills his ego, knowing that a scarce few could be compatible with his power. He’s a dependable light for the jujutsu world, sorcerers of the nation thankful that he's not on the wrong side.

But alas, being the best has its taxing side, especially taking in tedious missions across the land and attending mandatory meetings with the entire jujutsu faculty body — not to mention being a teacher. The white-haired sorcerer was a busy man — no other way to explain it. However, the worst thing about it all was that there would be times when he’d have less time to spend with a certain someone who had him in the palm of their hands. And if he keeps being away from them, he might – no, will – malfunction.

You were Gojo’s partner, his sweet baby that he cherished more than anything. You were a faculty member of Tokyo Jujutsu High, making things a little easier for the two of you to meet and elope (professionally). Nevertheless, those moments seem to frequent less and less with how many meetings have Gojo backed up this past week. The poor guy can’t even remember the last time he heard your sweet voice (which is a lie since you call every morning and night; he makes sure you do).

Although, today would be different. Once this meeting with the Kyoto officials ended, he made a straight beeline out of the room to find you. And to his cheerful chuckle, he skips in your direction when he sees you conversing with Yuuji in the hallway. The salmon-haired teen greets his teacher with a high-five and a bow from you.

Yuuji hears Megumi call for him from outside, so the boy dismisses himself with a goodbye and wanders off, leaving you and Gojo to yourselves.

“Hello, Y/n~,” the man says your name with a happy tune, his lanky figure swaying to be close to you.

“Good noon, Gojo,” you greet him again with a modest smile as the tall man walks to you. “How was your meeting? Did the officials give you a tough ti—Mmmph!?”Your boyfriend surprises you with a kiss, taking in your perplexed moan with his pillowy lips. One peck comes after another while Gojo’s hands sneak to your waist. You quickly push him away, but his hold keeps you close to his figure. “G–Gojo, what are you doing!?” You express your concern in confusion, covering your lips with a hand.

“Mmm? What do you mean? I’m greeting my princess with a kiss,” the blindfolded man says so matter-of-factly, beaming his delighted demeanor that nearly blinds you. “I miss you!”

“I miss you, too, but you can’t just—“ He tilts his head as you try to explain. You chew your lip with cheeks boosting in warmth, averting your glance away from his charming face that’s inching closer and closer to yours. His eyes are masked by the black cloth around his face; however, you can still sense the intensity of his gaze. “N-Not in public, Gojo...”

He plays the whining card, bringing you in for a tight hug that could restrain your breathing. “Ehhh, but I haven’t seen or touched you in days! See, we’ve been apart for so long that you’re going back to referring to me by my last name!”

“I always call you by your family name when in the school, no??”

“Yeah, but that’s only for when people are around, not just the two of us!” His complaints are genuine, swaying around with you in his arms. You roll your eyes, listening to him yap more. “Come on, Y/n; it’s been such a hectic week for me, missions after missions, meetings after meetings. Any more than this, and I just might combust — especially when I don’t have time to see my angel.”

You hear him make fake crying noises to your shoulder, reminding yourself how much your tall, strong boyfriend can be such a whiny puppy if he’s away from you for too long. But you can’t kid yourself; you missed spending time with him just as much as he did. “I know; I wanna see you more often, too. Don’t you worry, okay? This week is almost over, so keep pushing through like the tough man you are…Hehe, my strong Satoru.”

The snow-haired sorcerer springs up with a childish smile at the use of his name, his dimples present with the shine of his teeth. “If that’s what must happen, can your strong Satoru ask for another kiss to make his hell a little bearable?”

You give him a look at his request, but his anticipation doesn’t falter. With a sigh, you smile and whisper, “Just a kiss, Satoru?”

He chuckles lightly, drawing his mouth close to yours. “Yes, princess.”

His soft lips land on yours. There’s no restraint as you welcome him, your hands coming around to cup his cheeks before breaking the kiss. “One more,” he says before your nose is brushed away from his. You comply and place another gentler peck, and the man sneaks a hand from your waist to the back of your head. You withdraw your lips again, but Gojo utters another “One more…” Your stomach does flips knowing what game he’s trying to play. Another kiss is received, and his leg sneaks in between yours.

You mewl, finding yourself stuck in this predicament. He’s now in control, using this opportunity to deepen the kiss and make it more passionate, sucking your bottom lip and running his tongue for more access. You have no choice but to accept him, whimpering at the tongue intruding into your oral cavity while his leg moves further and further.

Your hands come to his shoulders, gripping his jacket as the Gojo furthers himself into the kiss. The hand behind your head keeps you steady, keeping him focused on your mouth, where he sucks on your tongue in a way that leaves you breathless — like, actually. After he quits the kiss, you two are gasping for air so hard, and your lips are wet because of him.

“Hahhh, ’Toru, stop,” you wipe spit from your mouth. “We can’t be doing this here…”

Your complaint falls on deaf ears, the sorcerer placing chaste kisses on your cheek. “Hmmm, why not?”

“Mmm..Someone, your students, we’d be caught here…”

Gojo smirks; it’ll never stop being adorable how bashful you are around him, particularly when he expresses his undying affection for you in public. But he will respect your wishes, and the idea that pops into his head makes him giggle.

Before you can process anything, Gojo picks you up with your legs held up and a hand on your back. You squeak at the unexpected action, grabbing a hold of his neck to balance yourself. Your mouth opens to express your bewilderment. Yet one moment, you two are in a hallway of the school; then you’re transported to a familiar room with a bed the next — your bedroom.

You blink in perplexity as Gojo throws you on top of your bed, stammering to find the right words. “Satoru, I wish you’d stop teleporting without letting me know! And don’t you have another meeting to get to!? Why are we in my apart—“ You don’t finish that sentence; you stop yourself once Gojo crawled up on the bed to you. Suddenly, you feel too small to utter a word.

“Sorry, baby,” No, he wasn’t. Not with that childish grin posted on his face. He brings his face to yours, placing more smacks on your lips. “But you’re the one who said we shouldn’t be doing this on school grounds. Heh, you act so cute when you’re shy…”

“No, Satoru, we can’t—Mmmm,” silencing you with kisses was such a vile card, knowing you’d be whimpering under him just from him twirling his tongue with yours. “Mmph..Mmah…! You’re scheduled for…another meet—“

“Shhh, don’t worry; I can be late for a few minutes,” another lie. If Gojo’s late to another meeting, Principal Yaga will put the younger man in a chokehold again. “I’ll make this quick, I promise. So, just let me enjoy you…”

Sucking your tongue is all it takes for you to give up on trying to persuade him out of what he’s doing. Gojo takes off and throws his jacket to the bedroom floor to let his black fitted tee breathe, and his hands initiate unbuttoning your blouse. He then slithers it down to the bottom of your long pencil skirt to pull up, greeting your undergarments with his digits. You jerk at the contact of his middle finger that presses on the damp spot of your panties, earning a faint, salacious laugh from Gojo.

“Awww, did my baby get wet just from kissing earlier?” He rubs the underwear further, soaking the spot more with your fluids. Your thighs tremble, “Did you miss me that much?”

“Sato—Oooh!” He sinks his finger deeper into your entrance; the material barrier is so wet from your essence seeping through. “Your finger...Mmm.”

“What is it, cutie?” He whispers to your ear, and you have to bite down on your lip to suppress a moan. “You want my fingers?” You nod sheepishly, amusing the snow-haired man. “Now, Y/n, you know I want to hear you tell me what you want. Use your words, princess.”

You gulp to satiate your dry throat. “Yess, Satoruu, I want your fingers. Please, let me cum on your fingers…”

“That’s my angel,” he praises before straightening himself between your sheer pantyhose-covered legs. After sliding your damp panties off, he brings a leg to his shoulder and finally slides his blindfold off his face, his hair losing its spiky position and falling with gravity. Cerulean eyes catch a glimpse of your wet cunt in his sights, biting his lip. “Made such a pretty mess all for me, huh.”

His hand returns to your now bare chasm, sliding his ring and middle finger between your soaking folds. You hum to the touch, gripping on your blouse to use as reins. After a few seconds, he inserts the middle digit inside, immediately going to work after he pulls a gasp from your surprised body.

Slow motions sneak up on you, scraping your velvet texture with the blunt fingertip. His slender digit pushed and pulled from inside you, making sure you took him to the knuckle. He swirls it around, evoking shaky screams from him, scratching your inner walls so diligently. And your eyebrows furrow once the movement quickens.

“Hooohh, ohhh!” You threw your head back to the pillows. “Ahhnn, faster, go faster…”

“Hmm? You want me to go faster?” He teases with a perched brow. He does as asked, but with a catch; he sneaks his ring finger inside with your slick as lube. You shriek, two fingers now ravaging your insides and pleasing you with faster shifts. “Like this?” Did you even have to answer that; were you gripping the sheets and hips moving on their own not enough?

“Oooo, fuahhh, fuuckk, ‘Toru, nooo, y’re making me…Hoohh!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he kisses your calf before placing his lips on your ankle to lick playfully. “Just let me make you feel all good.”

Fuck did Gojo miss this; it’s been more than a week since he’s had his hands on your body like this. The constant meetings have almost made him forget the warmth and plush of your frame. He needed this, like, BAD. He’s barely containing himself now; the image of your slit taking his fingers so well is bubbling his excitement, and the tent of his pants that shields a boner grows painfully hornier.

You were bound to cum on his fingers in no time, howling with an arched back when he does the ‘come hither’ motion and scrapes your inner walls. They contract around his digits as your legs tremble with the surge of your orgasm. Gojo loves the sight and stirs the fingers to tease your keen nerves more. “Good job, sweetie,” he kisses your ankle again while slowly removing his fingers from you, inserting them inside his mouth to lather his tongue with your juices. He almost caves in just from the taste.

But a sudden buzz in the pocket of his pants alerts him. He brings out his phone ringing with a call and presses the green button before pressing the device to his ear. “Yo, Ijichi.”

“Ah, thank goodness you picked up. Where are you; the meeting starts in a few minutes.”

“Mmm, I’m at Y/n’s,” even if you’re in a tiny daze, your face morphed into an expression of shock at his nonchalant honesty. “I’m only here to grab something real quick, and then I’ll head back to the school.”

“Are you sure…?”

He laughs, “Now, Ijichi, are you calling me a liar?”

That was precisely what he was — a whole liar.

“—Taahh, ahhhn, Sa’oruuuuu! Yer hitting shoo deep in—Saaahh!!”

It’s been a solid fifteen minutes after that call with Ijichi, and Gojo is still in the confines of your bedroom. He was very much late; of course, he was. Why would he not be? He finally has this chance to have you to himself, so he’s indulging it however long he wishes.

Gojo ripped you out of your clothes to meet with his clothing on the floor, leaving you bare and nude for him aside from your pantyhose. You’re lying on your side with one leg up on Gojo’s shoulder while the other is between his, and his cock now pushing to and fro inside your chasm that was filled with his come.

His thrusts were sharp and rough, the curve of his dick jabbing areas in your vagina you never thought would be stimulated. Jesus, his length was dangerous, having you babbling incoherent words to the air and reaching so deep inside that you quaked under him. Your brain is stuck in a haze, especially since this is the second time he’s fucking inside you and made you cum a total of three times!

“Ohhmy, Gohhhd! Sato—Ohhhh…!!” He grasps around your leg to plunge himself further and faster, the work of his pelvis having you see stars.

“Hsshhh, God, you feel so fucking good, baby,” he coos sweetly, juxtaposing with the erratic pace of his hips that move your figure with every rut. Azure orbs take in the display before him; your naked body submitted to him to alleviate his week-long stress and please the both of you. Strands of his silverfish-white hair are drenched from the sweat built on his forehead. “—Hmmgh! Shit…keep clamping onto me like that.”

You chew on your lip, sneaking a hand down on your clitoris to whisk your fingers around it. Oh, it feels so good, playing with yourself as your boyfriend massages your insides. “Mmaaah, s’ good...”

“Hmm, what’s that?” His hips now go slow; the stretch his curve causes when entering inside has your toes curl. “What feels good?” He then snaps his pelvis to startle you.

“—Mmmph!! You! Y’u feel so good, ‘Toruuu..!”

“Heh, you feel amazing yourself, Y/n,” returning to an erratic rhythm, Gojo pumps his cock til the base kisses your squelching folds. His balls smack onto you after every push. He then curves downward for his face to be closer for you to hear him, “Hmmnn, you gonna be good and come again, right?”

You nod cursorily, your eyes shut to enhance the feeling of you rubbing on your bud. “Yesshh, I’m so close, I wanna cum…Want you to fill me u—Uuuhhn!!”

“Jesus, you look so fucking hot,” he grins before bringing his mouth to your nipple, his tongue dancing around the tip to harden. “Let’s cum together, okay, cutie?”

He sucks in your nipple as his thrusts go grim, and severe hits to your cunt result in you wailing far from your control. The tip of his cock picks at your silky walls so euphorically that you hum his name. A hand comes to your chest to keep you steady and synced with him, and he keeps rutting into you even when his body shudders as his load is exerted inside your tight slit. And you’re not far from him either; your orgasm seconds away from his hits you hard, and you quiver in the shocks coursing through your body.

As you two rock slowly through your crescendos, your essence mixes with his seed, and your sweaty bodies heave and pant for the third time this session. Gojo releases your nipple from his mouth after withdrawing his dick from inside, and his jizz seeps out of your frame. “Phew, man, how I needed that.”

You respond despite your brain feeling a bit all over the place. “Are you happy now?”

He laughs while kissing your cheek. “Thank you, princess!”

“You’re welcome, Toru,” you shook your head with a meek smile. “But you really should get going; I don’t want you getting in trouble with—“

KNOCK!! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

An abrupt sound comes from the front door, confusing the both of you as the knock comes from out of nowhere. Nonetheless, you get up and wipe yourself quickly before putting your clothes back on. Gojo does the same as you walk out of the bedroom to see who’s at your door. And once you open the door, your heart meets your stomach.

“Y/n,” it was Yaga, the principal adorning his usual attire and sunglasses.

“Principal Yaga,” you greeted the older man with a hurried bow. “Wh–What can I do for you—“

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Your lips flatten at the question, using the silence to speak for itself as you move out of the way for the principal to enter. Yaga apologizes for the intrusion before marching into your apartment and presumably going after the person still in your bedroom, who lets out an exclaimed shout of pain from what you can assume was from a punch to the head from his old teacher.

The former instructor strolls back to the front door where you remained; Gojo is dragged on the floor behind him. “Sorry again for the inconvenience,” Yaga puts his shoes back on before exiting your home. You observe the men leave with a heavy sigh, waving goodbye to your snow-haired sorcerer as he’s pulled across the hall like a toddler.

“See ya, sweetie,” he cries out to you without regard to the neighbors hearing him, putting his blindfold back on. “I miss you already!”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

1K notes · View notes

accio-sriracha · 5 months

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Sirius Anything-But-Black.

~~~♤~~~

Sirius hates his last name. He always joked around by going by his friend's names instead.

Sirius Potter was the most common, of course. He was practically raised by the Potter's, he and James had been brothers for years of course he was a Potter.

Second was Pettigrew, mostly when joking around with Peter.

He'd make comments like "This is why it's so great to be a part of the Pettigrew family!" and "Don't you dare disrespect the Pettigrew Brothers!"

A handful of times he even used Lily's last name, referring to himself as Sirius Evans.

She finds it hilarious, as soon as she catches on that he hates his last name she starts calling him Evans too.

Whenever she'd pass by the group and greet James as Potter, she'd always make sure to reply to Sirius' "Hey, Evans!" With a "Hello, Evans." In return.

Every once in a while he used their other friend's names too; Meadowes, Longbottom, McKinnon, he went as far as to use McGonagall once and nearly got detention for a week.

But he never used Lupin.

Remus asks him one lazy Saturday morning as the group was sprawled across the furniture in the common room.

He'd wondered for years, they all secretly had, but it never meant enough to any of them to really ask.

"Why do you never go by Sirius Lupin?" Remus asked, filling the lull in conversation.

It was supposed to be a casual question, but there was nothing casual about the look Sirius gave him when he replied,

"Because you haven't asked me to marry you yet, Moons."

The room was silent. Remus and Sirius were staring at each other for a long time. Remus slowly stood up and walked over to him, kneeling down in front of his chair,

"Sirius, will you marry me?" He whispered.

"Of course, Remus." Sirius breathed.

Nobody else could tell if they were joking or not. They'd never once shown feelings towards each other, nothing more than what they normally did.

Remus wasn't even gay.

But then, all of the sudden, Remus and Sirius were found walking the halls hand in hand, placing gentle kisses on each other's cheeks.

They started sleeping in the same bed at night, Remus curled on his side with his nose nuzzled against Sirius' neck.

Sirius exclusively went by Sirius Lupin now, refusing to go by anything else. He also made it very clear to all of his suitors that he was engaged and off the market.

The others still couldn't quite tell how much further they would go for the bit, but they seemed happy?? So they were all happy too.

Immediately after graduation they got married and made it official. Everyone was kinda blown away, but then again, it was Remus and Sirius, they've kind of always been dating, even when they weren't.

The others finally asked years later if they'd been secretly dating prior to that, since it was the only thing that made sense.

Sirius shook his head, "No, I had no idea Rem liked me back. I was just really in love with him."

Remus nodded, explaining he wasn't actually sure if Sirius was joking or not either at first, but he was too in love to question it, and took the chance he got.

It ended up working out, Sirius was now- in all ways including legally- Mr. Sirius Lupin.

And he'd never been happier.

~~~♤~~~

#harry potter #marauders #marauders era #wolfstar #wolfstar headcanon #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius black #sirius x remus #wolfstar being totally in love #wolfstar hc #wolfstar textpost #theyre just young and desperately in love #oh to be in love

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carolmunson · 7 months

Text

the cars that go boom | (daddydom!sadist!eddie)

this fic isn't related to the title song reference at all, it's just stuck in my head. needed to get this out of my drafts so here's some ddlg themed sadist eddie that's been sitting in my draft folder for fucking ever and i'm sick of looking at it. tw: 18+ mdni ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, eddie being all over a cocky shit bag hottie who likes control but it's consensual, use of a vibrating toy. lots of allusions to other sex.

You watch him get out of the bathroom after his shower, tattoos stretched taught over softly cut muscles. You almost drool. He tried something new with you this week, an orgasm ban -- nearly a sex ban -- in fact, he didn't even want you to see his dick. And much like he always does when he finds a new way to torture you; he was feeling really pleased with himself about it.

'That's more than you deserve,' he hissed at you Monday night while you knelt obediently between his legs. He pet your hair while you watched TV and he jerked himself off, you were not allowed to turn around until he was finished. You pouted all night, and when it happened the next day you started pouting all week. But, the week was over, which meant your punishment was done. You'd spent all day getting ready, a long shower, smooth skin, body butter, his favorite perfume, everything you could do to feel perfect for him. You cleaned the trailer and made dinner, you kissed him when he got in the door to which he blushed and smiled.

'Hi beautiful,' he greeted you so gently, 'I missed you today.'

You watch him dress now, hair dripping while he tugs on a pair of grey sweatpants and a ratty cut off Iron Maiden t-shirt. You sulk a little. Those aren't normally the clothes he'd put on if he wanted to take you to bed, but you don't say anything just yet.

He goes to the kitchen table with a composition notebook and a collection of pens and markers, opening the beat up pages to what you can only assume is a new campaign, a new drawing of a map. You walk over while he mulls over it, adding new territory, scribbling in new lore. You let your hands slide over his shoulders.

"Hi baby," you say sweetly.

"Hi," he responds, focused on his notebook. Your hands slide forward, onto his chest, your face leaning down to his, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Whatcha doing?" you ask innocently.

"Workin' on a campaign," he responds, "We're gonna meet up on Wednesday night so I want it to be semi together."

"Okay," you nod, you run your fingers gently over his scalp, giving him a soft scratch. He keens into the touch, shoulders relaxing while he rolls his head back. You press your luck, letting your fingertip trace over the curve of his ear.

"Hey," he warns softly, "I'm tryin' to focus, sweetheart."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize, but he can't see your grin. Your fingers continue to wander, giving him a sweet shoulder massage while he reads over his story. A quiet 'thank you honey', falls from his full lips while you work out the knots. You press your luck again, trailing your finger down the line of his neck that's the most sensitive to your tongue and touch. Eddie's shoulders tense and he sits up straight, turning to you with a sour pull at his full lips.

"Do you need something?" he asks pointedly. You feel heat rush to your cheeks, "Do you need some attention?"

You nod and he grins, pulling the other kitchen chair over, "Come sit next to me then, you can help."

You roll your eyes and sit down next to him, he bites his tongue at the offense, happy to get to spend some time with you like this. He gives you a chaste kiss on your cheek while you watch him work.

You barely 'help', just sitting there while he crosses things out and re-writes them. While he flips back ten pages and then forward twenty, grabbing a red pencil and putting it down for a blue pencil then picking the red back up and so on. You get restless watching him work, so you get up and grab each of you a beer. Another sugar sweet, 'thaaank you baby,' pours from him, this time deep and focused, dark and syrupy. Molasses tongue. It goes right to your thighs.

You press your luck a third time, scooting close to him, letting your hand smooth over his covered thigh and further up, skimming over his cock that was perfectly outlined in his sweats. He let's out a frustrated sigh when he takes your hand away from his crotch, gently putting it on your lap when he looks at you sternly.

"Daddy's busy, baby," his eyes look down at you, his dominance brewing under angry brows, "Why don't you go play by yourself in another room, hm?"

He turns his attention back to the campaign notebook, while you throb from being scolded. The humilation pools through you when he chastises you, eyes lingering on you while you continue to sit there. After a beat, you get up to walk to the bedroom hearing his voice as you do.

"Good girl," he teases, "Are you being a good listener?"

You look back and see his grin while he leans back in the kitchen chair, crossing his arms. His legs are spread wide under the table, cool authority flowing off of him.

"Are you?" he asks again, a smirk cracking his face as if to ask, 'Does this embarrass you?' It does, it's humiliating.

"I'm a very good listener," you respond quietly, heart dropping in your chest.

His brows raise, waiting for you to add more to the sentence. You let out an aggravated huff through your nose, crossing your arms.

"I'm a very good listener, daddy," you repeat.

"There we go," he smiles cruelly, "Go have fun, sweetheart."

'Have fun? HAVE FUN?' you think to yourself while you go to the bedroom and shut the door with a firm click, 'Fine! I'll have fun without you then! See if I care!' It's not fair that you've been quite literally begging to be fucked for seven straight days, but to go straight into teasing you like this? The type of dominance that makes you feel the most -- god -- embarrassed? Degraded? You'd rather gag on fingers and have him wipe your spit on your face. You'd rather him make you lick someone's cum out of his ass, literally anything but this.

With a huff you open Eddie's top dresser drawer and grab the Hitatchi he bought you as an anniversary gift last year. Hastily, you plug it in behind the bedside table before climbing on to bed, shimmying your jeans off and tossing them to the floor.

Your legs spread, bent at the knees, turning the toy on low and slowly lowering it onto your covered core. The hum is quiet, barely a tremble in the head of the wand when it meets the lacy fabric of your panties. A soft gasp escapes you at the feeling, it had felt like years since you'd been touched there. You move the toy up and down slowly, teasing yourself, little puffs of breath escaping you as you do.

With a click, the buzz intensifies, sliding the head upward to settle softly on your clothed clit. You whimper while your hips start to move slowly against the vibrations, the whirr of the toy filling your ears while your eyes shut. You keep yourself like this for a little, enjoying the slow sensation, the mild tease. You feel it start, like the hook looping into the first car of a roller coaster train, the first tug when the attendant hits 'go'.

“Huh!” you gasp out breathy while your hips twitch. Your lower lips start to swell against the gusset of your bottoms, slick building between them. A slow start. You savor it, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Look so pretty like that, baby,” you hear his voice and gasp, tossing the toy next to you and snapping your legs shut. He smirks, a devilish chuckle bubbles from his chest, “Oh no, don’t let me interrupt. I said you could go play by yourself, and look at you…”

His voice raises in a lilt, while he sits on the bed. He passes you the wand and smiles, “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

“Go on,” he says with a nod, “Show daddy how you were playing.” You lean back on the pillows, opening up your legs again slowly. He glances between them, eyes flitting down to your mound briefly before meeting your eyes again, he subconciously licks his lips. You keep your legs up and bent up against your chest so he has a view, puffing out a soft sigh when you click the toy on again. He looks at you with a hazy gleam in his brown eyes, nodding slowly at you to remind you of his permission. You run it up your thigh before settling it back down on the center of your slit, letting the vibrations pulse over your entire core. "Hm," you hum out softly as your brows pinch together in a tilt. "Aw, yeah?" he coos out, "Does that feel good?"

"Mhm," you whine, lower lip tucked tight between your teeth. Yuo swallow when he reaches his hand out, smoothing over the soft plushness of your inner thigh. He squeezes, grinning when you let out a soft grunt with a twitch of your hips.

"You've been so patient this week," he purrs, "Such a good girl. Isn't that right?"

You nod hurriedly, watching his hand slide up your thigh, his index finger tracing up the hem of your underwear. It's a smooth hand off, watching his rings gleam in the bedside lamp when it wraps around the handle, both of your hands falling flat by your head. Your palms face the ceiling, matching your eyes when he turns up the vibrations. "Isn't that right, baby doll?" he asks, adding a gentle pressure up against you. Your pussy strains against the fabric the more excited you get, back already in a soft arch while you push into the mattress. "Y-yes, sir," you manage to mutter out. "No, no, that's not who I am tonight," he admonishes, still in a soft and steady voice, almost sweet -- like you don't understand anything. He takes the toy away; making you whimper, leaning up on your elbows behind you.

"You know how to address me," he says, a serpentine confidence flashing in his face, "You're a big girl, aren't you? Or do I have to teach you?"

You let out a shrill groan, head leaning back on it's hinge while your legs kick out in frustration in front of you.

"Hmm, of course," he says, getting up off the bed to pull off his shirt and slide off his sweats. His boxer briefs hug him in tight but it's there and it's missed you more than you've missed it this week, "You act like this and you don't think I should treat you like a little girl?"

You look up at him, bitten lower lip jutting out with a sheen of spit.

"So pouty, too," he coos, crawling onto the mattress between your parted thighs. He sits up on his knees, tall over your frame splayed out on the bed. He lifts one of your legs, pressing it flush against his chest so your foot rests by his ear.

"M'not pouty," you say back while his other hand reaches over your cheek with a light back before splaying over your jaw. His thumb brushes your lower lip before pressing on the dip at the center.

"Open," he instructs, you don't even think to stop yourself. You suck his thumb slow, letting your tongue lave over the length all the while. Spit fills your mouth, wet and eager, already inching at the corners of your mouth. You might as well drool. "Very good," he purrs again from the back of his throat, "Someone learned her lesson this week."

You nod, taking his wrist to steady his hand while you take more initiative with his thumb, implying what you really want.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," he says lowly, taking his thumb from your mouth. He wipes the spit on your cheek before reaching back over to the wand, keeping your legs spread and holding thight to your thigh against his front.

Your hips shimmy when he holds the toy back in place, thumb running over the power button but not pressing down.

"Hey," he says, commanding, "Look up at me."

Your gaze snaps to his in unadulterated obedience, his distaste for even having to ask evident on his face, "You know better."

"I know better," you nod while you say it, confirming his words. "You do not ever stop looking at me," he glowers down.

"I don't ever stop looking at you," you repeat back, needy for whatever he has for you next. Your hips shimmy again, you try to stifle the whine in your throat but it comes out just the same; desperate and childish. "Oh, baby, do you need help asking for what you want?" his voice lilts, "Does daddy have to guess?" "Turn it on, please," you whisper. "Please what, princess?" he asks, voice mocking with a knowing stare, leaning down so your knee hooks over his shoulder. His chest hovers at an angle over you, chain and guitar pick dangling over your lips. "Please what?" he asks again. "Please daddy," you whine, "Please turn the toy on." "Look at those manners," he grins wickedly, "My sweet girl."

He turns it on, speed setting high with the flick of his finger. It rumbles loud, thighs already twitching while runs it back and forth over your sensitive clit. "Fuck," you gasp out, eyes rolling, "Oh my god, right there." "That's not a very nice word, sweetheart," he chastises, "What do you say?"

"S-sorr-Oh! Oh my god! Oh! -- Sorry, d--shitshitshitshit-- sorrysorrysorrysorry," you nearly cry when the cord in your belly snaps, gushing into the fabric against your core. He greedily keeps your thighs apart, watching while you come undone under him. You gulp when he doesn't take the toy away, your sensitive nerves screaming at the buzz of the vibrator. Your hips writhe and jump, trying to pull away from it all the while he's shaking his head no.

"Gotta hear that apology, princess," he murmurs, "Say sorry."

"Sorry daddy, I'm sorry," you babble out, "M'sorry I'll be so good, I'll be good." He let's out a satisfied hum, clicking the wand off and placing it gingerly on the bedside table. His hand lingers for a moment to make sure it doesn't roll off and then finds it's footing back on the mattress.

"You'll be so good?"

"So good," you nod when he settles back between your thighs. He crawls forward like a cat, pressing his hips slowly up against yours. You sigh needily when you feel the drag of his erection against you, whimpering when you see it affect him the same way. "Shit, baby," he smirks, trying not to break character while he grinds against you a second time, "Fuck." "That's not a very nice word," you tease back, looking up at him through heavy lids. "Well I'm not a very nice guy, am I?" he muses, leaning in to kiss you deeply before one hand reaches down to tug at your panties. You giggle, a sound that sends him reeling when he's in this kind of mood. "You're very nice," you whisper against his lips. "Hmm, yeah?" he growls, noses brushing while he lingers above you. He offers another roll of his hips right before he gets to work on pulling your panties down slipping them off of each ankle with ease. Undressed completely below him, he admires you. He hadn't seen you like this all week, finally getting what you've been waiting for. So patient, so willing. He runs his hands from shoulders to hips, greedy fingers digging into you rough and tumble, grabbing and kneading with disregard to comfort. "Daddy," you start, getting his attention in a voice that makes him ready to serve accordingly, "Fuck me."

A smirk splits his face, it's cute when you ask so brazenly when you're busy looking at him with those sad puppy eyes. "Please, fuck me," you reiterate while he readies himself, boxer briefs peeling off to leave him bare. Your soft gasp at the release of his cock is more of an ego trip than he expected to have, never realizing how much you truly need him like this. How you can really only get off to him, how you've submitted in every way you could. "Daddy's gonna fuck you, sweetheart," he says steadily, climbing back ontop of you, pressing your thighs to your chest, "God, m'gonna fuck you real good."

He leans in for another hungry kiss, ownership laced in his lips. When he breaks away you catch his chin in your hand, an action that makes him bristle, jaw clenching at your attempt at control.

"Fuck me like I've been bad," you request in a timbre so low he nearly melts at the sound, "Fuck me how you fuck bad girls."

He's never flipped you over so fast in your life.

#eddie munson smut #dom!eddie munson #daddydom!eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

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nervoushottee · 4 months

Text

Go For It | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve has been your “movie guy” at Family Video for a while now. Little does he know that the main reason you’ve been buying these movies is to flirt with him and just maybe ask him out…

Warnings: Steve being oblivious babygirl

Note: hey hottees! Happy New Year! I hope to be writing a lot more on Tumblr💗

(Possibly might be a Smut Part 2?? Let me know if you guys want one?)

——————-

The bell chimes as you enter the door of Family Video. A smile on your lips and an intent in mind as you walk confidently toward the front counter. “There’s my favorite customer.” Steve says to you with his signature smile.

Steve Harrrington, the “boy next door”, the ex- “King Steve” or for your case, “The hot Family Video employee that has a hard time understanding that you’re flirting with him.”

For the past two weeks you’ve been coming into the movie store in need of new movies to watch. The first time you came was truly because you were in need of something new and Steve in all his strong, beautiful and delicious glory helped you no problem with finding a comedy for you and your girlfriends to watch one night.

You could hardly understand half of what he was telling you about the movie when you were purchasing it. You were too busy ogling his toned arms and the many freckles across his face. You wondered if you played your cards right, you’d be able to see if there were any more freckles in other more delicate places.

The movie he recommended wasn’t actually bad and you jokingling made him your “movie guy”. You had said it to flirt and make him laugh but Steve took it seriously. He stood proud, almost cocky saying, “If you ever need a new movie, I’m your man.” pointing his thumb towards himself as you return the movie back to him a few days later.

You did in fact let him be your man and nearly spent half your pay checks each week to come in and buy movies. You would flirt and banter with him and Steve would laugh and banter right back with you.You could tell he enjoyed your company but you weren’t too sure if he was getting what you were throwing down.

One day, you came to return a movie and Steve was on his break so Robin did it instead. The two of you both knew of each other. Being in the same classes from time to time throughout the school years but you never had any mutual friends. You both talked as Robin ringed up the movie for a return and a calm silence covered you both.

Your rings made clinking noise with every tap of your fingers with the rhythm of whatever song was playing softly through the store speakers.

That sudden calm was quickly interrupted by an eager Robin.

“I think you should just go for it.” she blurts out to you.

You turn your head to see the girl staring back at you. Not too sure (you’re pretty sure) what she was referring to you tell her as such. “Go for what?” Robin looks back to where you assume is the back room door to see if Steve was coming out.

“Ask Steven out.” she whispers to you with an amused gleam in her eyes.

You peek over to the same door Robin had looked back at only seconds before, before you lean over the counter closer to her and whisper. “You think?? Because I’ve been subtly flirting with him for almost a month and he hasn’t shown much interest.”

The short haired dirty blonde eyes widen in shock, “Pfftt. Oh he’s totally interested. Number one, I mean look at you you’re gorgeous, I mean your pretty cool gal. Number 2, Steve doesn’t know if someone is flirting with him unless he’s the one that seeks them out. I know he had this “reputation” a while back but that ship has long sailed for a while and he hasn’t been doing that well in the flirtatious department if we’re being honest.” Robin says all this to you rapidly, adding finger quotation marks when she says “reputation”.

“And Number 3 and please listen when I say this. Sometimes Steve isn’t the brightest fish in the sea. If he was a dog, you would need to tell him that the bone is a treat before you give it to him or else he’ll think it's a friend and play fetch with it or something.” she finishes.

You try to take in all that she said as much as you could, trying to understand the innuendo she threw in at the end. Nodding at her words you eyes going unfocused as you get lost in your head in thought. After a few seconds you eventually grab the receipt Robin hands you.

“So yea I think you should go for it. Trust me you won’t be disappointed.” she says with a smile.

You tell her that you’ll keep it in mind and thank her before leaving the video store.

The conversation between the two of you was a few days ago.

But today, today was the day you were going to ask Steve out. You made the decision the night before. You put on your favorite outfit, listened to the songs that make you feel the most confident and didn’t forget to tell yourself some positive affirmations before you left. There was also a pint of mint chip ice cream waiting for you in the freezer just in case Robin was lying and this all didn’t go how you wanted to. (You were just making sure to check every box.)

So here you were at the counter that Steve stood behind as he leaned over to get closer to you as he spoke. “So did Jim and Janine like “Die Hard”?”.

Jim was your neighbor who you’ve known since you were young. Him and his wife Janine were in need of something new to watch and you offered to get them a movie. Saying that you knew a guy who gave out pretty good suggestions. Was it another excuse for you to show up at his job and flirt with the boy? Yes but your neighbors didn’t need to know.

“They loved it, it is definitely going to be a favorite for them.” you say to him. Steve is clearly happy with your response telling you as always that he’s happy to help.

You try to take a subtle deep breath to gather as much confidence and bravery before speaking. ‘Here it goes’, you think to yourself. “Aside from returning this,” you place both hands over the movie you placed on the counter. Rings clinking against the plastic cover.

“I am looking for something to watch for myself and I’m in need of your recommendations.” You say to him.

Steve nods his head, “No problem. Any genre you in mood for? Maybe a little action movie for yourself or a good comedy.” He places the “Die Hard” movie in the return pile next to Robin who you had no clue was even there until just now. You lock eyes with her briefly as she gives you a subtle thumbs up and mouths “go for it”.

“I think I’m in the mood for romance. Any suggestions?” You tell him softly.

Steve drums the table with his hand repeatedly as he thinks. You assume he has a movie in mind once he walks from behind the front counter and walks toward you. He places his hand lightly against the middle of your back and leads you toward the romance section. “I have a few movies in mind that you might like.”

The two of you are in the romance aisle. Between two shelves that cause you both to be a lot closer compared to the distance you were before. The front counter made a barrier between the two of you. But now you can see every detail of Steve Harrington. The small freckles against his arms, the sweet yet warm scent of his cologne as he passes you to pick up a couple movies for your suggestion. The tip of his tongue sticking out against his lip as he concentrates. Looking between each movie to choose the perfect one for you. Fuck, he’s too cute and you hope he says yes to your proposal.

“Here we are m’lady.” His voice brings you out of spacing out thinking about how cute Steve was. You smile to bring yourself back and hope Steve couldn’t tell you were staring at him and daydreaming. He raises two movies, one in each hand out to you.

“We have the great “Sixteen Candles”. A very cute and classic Rom-Com deal.” He starts to tell you about the movie, a short and sweet summary of the movie without giving any spoilers.

“And if you’re not feeling for that we’ve got “Endless Love”, a bit more of romance and with a good amount of dramatic flair.” He gives the short rundown of that movie without giving any spoilers for that one also.

You nod your hand and act as if you’re thinking of choosing one or the other. “Both good choices.” You say to him which earns you a beautiful Steve Harrington smile.

Here it goes.

“There’s a new movie that came out not too long ago. I don’t know if it's on video yet or if you guys even have it. It’s um- I can’t remember the name. There’s a guy works at a laundromat in the movie-” you start, looking a bit confused as you act as if you’re trying to remember the name of the movie that’s been repeating in your head about a thousand times since last night.

“Oh yea we do I think. One sec.” Steve walks further down the aisle and skims the shelves for the movie you were talking about. He picks it up and walks back toward you waving the movie in his hand. “This is the one right?” He hands it to you.

You nod happily, “Yea! That’s the one.” you look up at him smiling brightly and he’s smiling right back you. He asks if you were searching for any more movies and with a shake of your head, he leads you back to the register to cash out the movie.

Robin is no longer standing behind the counter but she’s acting as if she’s making herself useful. Stocking a few shelves with movies. It’s her subtle attempt to give your privacy to ask Steve out but still be able to eavesdrop on the whole thing.

Steve walks behind the counter and begins to ring up the movie, muttering the lyrics to the song from the radio in the background. You think to yourself that now is a good time as any to ask him out. You won’t get this opportunity again. Despite Robin teling you about Steve’s lack of dates, you doubt that’s going to last forever. I mean look at him, he’s Steve Harrington.

You clear you’re throat before speaking, “So uh-How many movies does a girl have to buy for you to ask her out?”

Steve freezes in what he’s doing, the movie in his hand as he stares at you. His eyebrows raised in curiosity and shock. “What?”

You don’t let his confusion or shock stop you. You’re on a roll now, you can’t just quit.

“This movie is still in theaters. It’s not that busy now but I still would love to see it on the big screen. Maybe instead of me getting this tape,” you grab the movie softly from his hands. Steve still so frozen in shock he lets you. You place the movie down on the counter and slide it away.

“Maybe you and I can go see it? If you want, that is.” you finish.

You look up at him sweetly and Steve blinks once, twice, a few more times. He swallows like theres a lump stuck in his throat and before he speaks, he nods.

“Ye-Yea.” he starts, his voice cracking at first before he clears his throat and shakes his head subtly to get shake himself out of it.

“Yea uh that’d be great.” He finally responds.

You smile brightly at him. You go on your tippy toes to reach over the counter for the pen that was in the front pocket of his jeans. You hear Steve gasp slightly before you go back to how you were normally standing.

You grab his arm softly and he lets you and you uncap the pen. “I’m free on Saturday but you can call me so we can figure out a time that works for you.” you say to him, writing your number on his arm. You put a heart and small smiley face at the end of it before handing the pen back to him with a smile.

You don’t let him say anything else to you as you say goodbye and begin to walk away. But that’s before you see Robin out of the corner of your eye who gives you a wink and a big thumbs up. You exit Family Video and walk a few paces before letting out an excited squeal when there was no one around.

You just scored yourself a date with Steve Harrington.

— — — — —

(Did I use Joe Kerry’s song as the title…maybe)

HEY HOTTEES OMG ITS BEEN SO LONG <3

Small life update, Im a working girlie so thats where most of my time goes and im way too tired to do anything else but sleep. But hopefully this year that changes!

I miss my friends on here and I hope to make new ones so please don’t be shy to send me a message!!

Hoped you enjoyed this fic of reader being down bad in need for Steve

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve stranger things #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you

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mountttmase · 3 months

Text

Little Bean

Note - happy Friday, here’s just a tiny something I wrote yesterday after we were talking about pregnancy cravings 🩷 feedback would be appreciated as always 😌

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 986

Warnings - fluff

‘So you want peanut butter and… pickles?’ Mason asked, a questioning tone to his voice as if he thought you were mad but you’d been craving the strange combination all day.

‘Maybe some chocolate chips too? Oh and the really cheap fluffy white bread, none of that 50/50 crap’ you told him.

‘You’re absolutely sure that’s what you want?’

‘It’s not what I want Mase, it’s what our little bean wants’ you told him, your hand falling to your rather large belly. Truth be told your little bean wasn’t so little anymore but it was yours and Mason's first nickname for your baby and it had just stuck so whilst you were still deciding on names the pair of you always referred to them as your little bean.

‘You want a drink or anything else?’

‘You know what I really fancy a vimto’ you told him, watching him shake his head with a laugh before kissing your forehead as he got up.

‘Okay well I won’t be long’

‘Thank you, Mase. I really appreciate you going to get it for me’ you told him sincerely but he was more than happy to do it for you.

‘Well it’s my duty as a dad’ he laughed. ‘You’re giving me a baby, the least I can do is go buy the love of my life some pickles and peanut butter at 11:30 at night’

‘Don’t forget the vimto’ you called as he got closer to the door and the loving smile he sent your way made your heart race.

‘I won’t baby. I’ll be as quick as I can, yeah? Love you’

‘Love you more’ you called, blowing him a quick kiss that he adorably caught, putting it in his pocket before leaving the room.

The small Sainsbury's was only a few minutes away and Mason kept his hat on and head down the whole time he was in there. Laughing to himself as he picked up everything you’d asked for and even getting a multipack of vimto just in case you wanted more tomorrow.

When he’d asked you earlier on if you fancied a snack he was expecting you to say ice cream like you had been for weeks but this new concoction had him stunned and confused. You were giving him the greatest gift he could ever ask for though so as soon as your order was in he was off to get it for you.

The shopping trip went without a hitch and he was home within 15 minutes. Unpacking his little haul before he got to making your special sandwich of peanut butter and pickles with chocolate chips and an ice cold vimto on the side. Nearly gagging as he placed it all together on the plate but if that’s what you wanted then that’s what you were getting.

You were sat up and waiting for him when he returned to your room, eyes lighting up and the sight of him and your heart thumped at the way he presented you your creation with a proud smile on his face.

‘Thank you, Mase. I really do appreciate you’ you told him. Kissing his cheek quickly as you took the plate from his hands and as soon as he set your glass on your bedside table he was undressing himself and getting back into bed next to you.

He watched on in what would only be described as fascination and slight horror as you took your first bite. Thinking maybe it had been a joke this whole time but there you were, eyes rolling back in your head as you munched away and as much as mason wanted to ask how it was he didn’t want to disturb your moment.

‘God that hits the spot. It's better than I thought it would be’ you told him after your second bite, looking over to him to find him trying to hold back a laugh. ‘You know what? The chocolate chips really set it off, I’m a genius I swear’

‘Yes you are baby’ he laughed, kissing your shoulder before he started to shuffle down and lay next to you.

‘You want a bite?’

‘You know what, I’ve got training early so I best not’ he told you, but you knew it was just an excuse. ‘Maybe tomorrow’

‘I’ll have one waiting for you when you get home’ you joked, watching his face scrunch up in disgust causing you to laugh loudly.

‘Can’t wait’ he chuckled, settling himself down next to you. ‘You gonna be able to sleep after all that sugar?’

‘I’m six months pregnant Mase, of course I’ll sleep’ you told him. Reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, your heart racing as his snuggled into your thigh and wrapped his arm around your leg. ‘Just let me finish and we can cuddle’

‘Fine but I wanna be the big spoon. Not sure I want pickle peanut butter breath in my face all night’

‘I’m gonna clean my teeth you big baby’

‘Doesn’t matter how much you clean them, I’ll still know’ he teased and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

‘You’re insane’

‘Says the one eating something i could find in a bin’

‘Hey, stop being mean’ you laughed. Polishing off the last of your sandwich as he kissed your thigh as an apology. ‘I’ll be back in a sec yeah?’

‘You want a hand up?’ He offered sweetly but you just shook your head and stroked his hair.

‘I’m good, thank you though’ you laughed. Getting yourself out of bed to clean your teeth but you stopped as you got to the door so you could look back at Mason all curled up in bed waiting for you. You heart thumping at the sweet man you got to call your own with tonight only confirming to you once again he would be the only man you’d ever need.

#mason mount #mason mount one shot #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #mason mount fic #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount story #mason mount fan fiction #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #footballer fan fiction

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shamrockqueen · 15 days

Text

Omega Retreat : Chapter 3

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, reference to physical ailments

Word count : 2083

Masterlist

Summary : As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat.

You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?

You tried to focus on your work, but you found yourself losing focus time and time again. Your eyes kept leaving the dull glow of your computer monitor to steal glances at your phone.

“You seem distracted.”

Her tone was playful, but the abrupt interruption still had you jumping in your seat. Your boss had snuck up behind you easily as you were rechecking your email on your phone.

“Geez, we’ll have to string a bell around you if you're going to sneak up on people.” You laughed back, reassured by her coy smile.

“Something’s got you in a good mood.” She hummed behind you.

“Oh, yeah I guess.” You try to hide your pink cheeks, too embarrassed over getting caught texting a new flame like a love-struck teenager.

“All the girls can smell the change. Even the betas, dear.” She sang back.

“Who is he?” She tried to hide her beaming smile behind the back of her hand as she leaned over on the wall of your cubicle.

You scoff, trying to cover your warm cheeks as you answer. “You sound more excited than my mother was.”

She gasped with a wide smile, like a schoolgirl getting gossip from a friend. Omega’s always connected more closely, and it warmed your heart that she could be equally happy for you. So, when she leaned in for a hint of another scent that may have been left to linger on your skin, you quickly answered the anticipation in her eyes.

“We haven’t met in person yet; you're not going to catch a whiff of him, so don’t bother trying.” You laughed up at her before she pulled away.

“No fun. You could at least tell me what he is.” You knew it had to be the question bugging her the most.

You hesitated for a second, biting back on your lip before whispering back, “An alpha.”

“I knew it!” She nearly jumped with delight, leading you to try and shush her before the other cubicles were privy to your personal business.

It made you happy that you could feel like you had bonds even at work, and we’re thankful for her gentle omega nature.

“Keep your voice down.”

“I’m sorry; I’m just so happy for you. After everything, I just..”

You didn’t want her to finish that sentence. Luckily for you, she wouldn’t, looking back into your saddened eyes instead. “I’m just so happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You think you’ll meet him soon?”

You chuckled alongside her, glad to have the conversation shift back to a lighter tone.

“We’ll see. We’ll see.” You shoo at her, hoping to get some of the work she’d given you done today.

She gets the message, realizing she’d been gushing for too long and had work of her own.

“Fine, but I expect an invite to that wedding.”

It was the last you heard of her before she walked back to her office.

You smiled back at your computer, a drab Excel sheet still painted over its background. You sighed back at it until a telltale ding rang across your previously ignored phone.

A relationship with an alpha was still scary, but Bucky seemed to dampen those worries every time you looked at his photo blipping over your screen.

You pulled the phone towards you to glance over the notification of Bucky’s message.

“I wait to see you tonight.” You read along with the small message box.

You ran your fingernail along the power button before pressing on it, letting the passcode window light up the screen before tapping on a handful of numbers.

You looked back at the few cubicles behind you, making sure you had a moment to answer.

“Me either. I can’t focus on work,” you typed fervently.

“I’d rather meet you in person, Omega." The message pops up in the next second.

You let out a breathy chuckle with a smile, still in disbelief that you could be his omega even in text.

“I know. Hopefully soon, but I’m excited about our video date.”

You were more than excited; it was all you could think about as the hours ticked away slower than they normally would. When 5 p.m. finally rolled around, you nearly lept from your seat. You nearly forgot to shut off your computer before grabbing your stuff and rushing away.

A giddy drive home was a delightful change of pace, spurring you to drive just a tick above the speed limit as you neared your little house.

You fly through the house, letting the door slam behind you before tossing your purse over the couch. You stumbled past the mirror, only to twist back towards it after catching sight of your messy hair.

Your fingers only tangle into it as you fight to take it out of its messy bun. You only tied it up halfway through the day for a little comfort, only to ruin all the work you put into it that morning.

You didn’t have any time to fuck with it now, yet you continue to burn through the few seconds you have left trying to tame your tired looks. Could each flyaway be seen through your laptop's webcam?

You stopped for a second, closing your eyes and sucking in an uneven breath before looking back up at your reflection.

You looked red—nothing new, of course—but not a face you wanted him to see, and yet there wasn’t anything you could do to fight it except to finally calm down.

Your hair wasn’t bad, and your reflection wasn’t meant to scare you, and as you continued to breathe, that red blush began to fade. You can do this.

You leave the mirror, setting your eyes on the laptop still sitting on the coffee table. You lowered yourself to the sofa to sit as comfortably as possible before pulling the computer to your lap and switching it on.

A brief photo of you with your arm wrapped around your mother’s shoulder flashed in the background of your screen before you set up the video call.

It was just more of those bouncing dots with a different ring as it all danced along a blue screen. You held your breath, waiting patiently for his image to take over. Yet, when the square zoomed over the page and movement took over your screen, every ounce of air seemed to force its way from your lungs.

He was there, tucking his hair behind his ear and smiling at his own screen as you gave a shocked smile.

“Hi!”

You mouthed back an overwhelmed ‘hi’ as you watched him intently. Your mouth moved in an attempt to form words, but you were far too mesmerized by the real alpha on your screen. That is, until his smile fell.

“Is your sound on? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” You were quick to reassure him, wanting desperately to see that smile set upon you again.

Just as you hoped, it was back in an instant after hearing your voice.

“Sorry, I was just a little speechless for a second.” You blinked at his image, wanting to make sure it was real as you spoke to it. “It’s amazing to finally see the real you. Not that I thought your photos were fake..uh it’s just.” You fought your way through your ramblings as he chuckled at your giddy and nervous demeanor.

“No, I know what you mean. It’s so exciting to finally see you, Omega.”

It was like a dream, finally laughing and talking where you could see one another and study each of his expressions as he took each word that left your stuttering lips. Hours pass, and the conversation continues to burn through the night as it’s carried happily between the two of you.

It was so much better, but not nearly enough. A frustration shared by both you and him began to show as the veneer hiding it broke away.

“But, I wanna bury my face in your neck.” His voice deepens, showing a glimpse at a small possessive side. It was something you’d initially feared from an alpha.

“I gotta see you for real.”

It’s so sudden, you could hardly believe it would always be like this for omegas, but how could someone who had shut themselves away for so long really know?

You think back on what others spoke of during their tales of pleasure and even the more harrowing words from your physician only a few weeks prior. They’d cut off your suppressants ‘for your own safety’, and urged you to seek a sexual partner in the most blatant terms. But, they weren’t wrong, and with another possibly fatal heat on the horizon, you had to make a very difficult choice.

“Maybe we should. It's just...” You stopped for a second to calm yourself. “It hasn’t been very long, and you're already..so smitten.”

“Can you blame me?” His voice rang low over the speaker yet still sang through your worries so melodically.

His tone drops, becoming more serious and heavy, so much so that it only echos the ever-grave voice that bounced around the back of your mind. “What are you scared of?”

It hit close to home, like he could be looking right through you and seeing every mounting fear you tried so hard to bottle up.

“It's just, with a heat coming in a couple weeks..” you tried to ignore the breaking of your own voice as you spoke. You didn’t want this to be the reason why, and you didn’t want it to be so soon that you two had to meet or finally be intimate. “...and I just don’t want to rush things. But I agree; maybe we should consider meeting in person soon."

You fought not to let your true emotions show and not to let your true fears come to light in front of him. It was a relief when his face lit up with so much joy. He just stared back at you, his eyes beaming through the screen.

You could nearly cry. After ripping off this first bandage, it was such a relief that you finally felt you could breathe properly. You chuckled happily together, taking in each other's joyous reaction when he finally spoke again.

“I can send you an invitation right away. I can be there for you.” He spoke so passionately, looking at you with big, wet blue eyes before typing away at the keys on his keyboard.

“W-what invitation?” You nearly coughed on the words as they left your throat.

You do think back on the vacation packages on the original website and how they boasted about safety as well as elegance. The thought of having that kind of special getaway with the Alpha often, finally seeing Bucky where the sun could hit his skin instead of in the glow of your laptop monitor.

But, he was still technically a stranger, in spite of the two of you consistently sharing messages over the course of several weeks. Running away with him seemed, in the most juvenile sense, stupid. Yet, a twinge in your stomach urged you to leap at his offer.

“It is such a beautiful resort.” You chuckled nervously. You recalled all the photos you’d scrolled through before he’d matched you on the website.

“I’ll meet you anywhere you want me to, Omega. I just want to feel you so bad.” The low drag of his voice wasn’t unfamiliar by now, after having heard similar sentiments during a steamier exchange over a phone call. You felt a little embarrassed as your skin started to flush again.

“I don’t want to make you spend that much money on me.”

"This is not about money. I just want everything to be perfect for you.”

You try to force yourself to speak, but each word falls flat on your tongue. He was offering you what felt like a lifeline with open arms. You never wanted something like this to progress so damn quickly, but maybe you were really that desperate. Maybe you were really that scared.

It was so nice to be wanted, and by him especially, an alpha unlike any other you’d ever met. You still wanted time to think about it, but what time do you have left before a possible disaster? The date of your heat was growing closer, but you had to afford at least a night to ponder something like this.

“C-can I have a few days to think about it?”

Chapter 4

Tag list : @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll

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chososhairbrush · 6 months

Text

Whispers in the Storm

choso x male reader (fem aligned dni!)

Warnings: amab!reader, bottom male reader, a little bit of teasing, a lot of praise (choso would never insult you he's too sweet), reader is referred to as "baby," finger sucking, choso refers to reader's hole as a pussy, creampie, aftercare :3! not proofread! might be forgetting something idk!!

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you hear the gentle echoes of raindrops pitter-pattering across the windowsills and rooftop. The faint earthy smell of rain trickles into your apartment, making you feel at ease. It's cloudy, but heavy clouds in the air have always made you feel as if there's something protecting you.

Then, almost as if he's trying to harmonize with the sounds of falling rain, Choso hums softly. His arms, although so muscular, always treat you so carefully, almost like he feels too tight of a squeeze would make you shatter like glass. He has you cocooned in his arms, making you the little spoon as always. His legs trap you in, intertwining with yours.

Not that you're complaining. You find yourself yearning to be held by him every second you're apart. And this rainy Saturday morning is the perfect time to cuddle with your boyfriend all day. Although the sound of rain is clearly present, you can't hear the usual sounds of traffic or the busy streets below you. Just the sound of the sheets softly moving and slow breathing fill the room.

The more you think about how choreographed and perfect this morning is, the more your face begins to flush and the faster your heart starts to race. Although the room is dimly lit, you can still see a faint outline of the scars and callouses on Choso's arms and hands. You gently place your hands against his, interlocking your thumbs together.

He's a light sleeper, possibly explaining the constant bags under his eyes. Although he isn't particularly fond of them, he can't help but feel his heart flutter whenever you kiss over them and his eyelids. You, his beautiful boyfriend, treating him to all the kisses he could ever hope to have and always being there for him? He doesn't understand how he got so lucky.

But you feel the same way about him. He's always so patient, loving you unconditionally and willing to sacrifice anything if it's to make his pretty boy happy. And not to mention how gorgeous he is; dark umber eyes that have always looked at you in a loving, affectionate way. His long dark hair that he always lets you braid and twirl as you please, letting you test different hairstyles on him.

You were about to continue thinking of every small detail that you loved about your boyfriend, both about his adorable personality and appearance, but your thoughts are abruptly interrupted. A soft, tender kiss finds its way onto your neck, right underneath your ear. You gasp, and Choso can't help but chuckle.

"Good morning, my love. I apologize for startling you." He says, his voice raspy and deep from just waking up. You've never told him, but his morning voice always makes your stomach flip.

"Morning, Cho." You respond, bringing one of his hands to your lips and kissing his knuckles. It's silent for a few seconds as he wakes up some more, before he sits up against the headboard.

"Pretty morning, isn't it?" He says, gesturing for you to come sit in his lap. And you would be foolish to refuse such an invite. "But of course, it's not nearly as pretty as you, sweet boy." He gently cradles your cheek.

It's your turn to chuckle, and he smirks knowing how cheesy it was. But you both know he meant it. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, and he wraps his arms around you. Deciding to be a tease, he moves his hands upwards, lifting your shirt along with it. You shiver as the cold air brushes against your bare skin.

"God, you look even prettier on rainy days like these. Your eyes sparkle even brighter than usual." He gently kisses your forehead. "I love you." He's so kind to you, it makes you weak in the knees. So it's a good thing you're sitting comfortably in his lap.

"I love you t—" A soft whine escapes your lips as he squeezes your hips at the same time you're saying this. You can already feel yourself going stupid, his big hands rubbing along your body.

"Please, my love? Let me indulge you on such a beautiful morning." You lean back to look at him, the overwhelming amount of love in his eyes making your heart skip a beat. He already knows your answer, but being the thoughtful man he is, he waits for your answer before continuing.

You nod eagerly, but he teasingly tuts at you. "Words, pretty boy. I need to hear your soothing voice. Don't tell me you're speechless already? I've only just started touching you."

"Please." Is all you say, sounding more like a nervous suggestion than something you desire. He knows what you want, but why not have some fun first?

"Please what? Talk to me, baby." His hands lift your shirt up further, making your back arch at the ticklish sensation. You know the words that are about to come out of your mouth are absolutely embarrassing, but you can't wait any longer. He always wins these teasing games.

"Need you in me, your fingers, your dick..." He gently holds your chin in place, making eye contact so you feel humiliated at how filthy you're talking. "I'll be so good, I promise, I just need you in me. Nice and deep."

Seeming satisfied with your answer, he kisses you softly. "Then that's exactly what you'll get. A reward for being such a good boy and telling me what you need." Gently flipping you over and onto your back, he slides his hands in between your legs.

"Don't be so timid. I can't make you feel good if your legs are squeezed together." He gives an insanely seductive smirk, and you instantly split your legs wide open.

"Good boy." He says quickly, before hiking your boxers down. You're not entirely hard, but your dick is leaking pre. Choso sucks in a breath, taking in the sight of how your tight little hole is already twitching. He spills some lube onto his fingers, coating it generously along with his saliva. He looks into your eyes, waiting for a cue to ensure you're entirely ready. All it takes is a simple nod from you for him to slowly push his finger into your hole.

You don't even last five seconds before you're clenching, arching, and letting out breathy moans. His fingers, so perfectly thick, take their time stretching you open. You squeeze your eyes shut as if it's going to make you any less of a mess.

But Choso's not going to allow that. He stops pumping his fingers. "You know the rules, you gotta keep your eyes on me if you wanna keep going." Slowly, you squint at him. He smiles at you, looking innocent as ever despite being knuckle deep in you. "There he is. Doing okay, baby?" You can only nod.

The constant prodding at your prostate makes you so close, but Choso is used to this routine by now. As soon as you start bucking your hips up, he pulls his fingers out, making you open your mouth so you can suck them dry.

And despite the best part not even happening yet, you suck harshly on his fingers without a second thought. You can't even think. He groans, taking his fingers out after he feels satisfied with your "cleaning."

At some point without you noticing, he had taken off his own pair of boxers. You gasp loudly as you feel his tip rubbing against your entrance. His pre was already pooling on your hole and onto the bedsheets. "Allow me, love."

You split your legs impossibly further, holding them up, feeling yourself shaking from anticipation. He pushes into you. It feels like forever before he finally gets all of his girthy, long length in you. But when your hips do finally touch together, you feel so unbelievably full. The burning sensation from being stretched out so far slowly turns into a feeling of pleasure. No matter how many times you took Choso, his size would always take some getting used to.

You both moan simultaneously, and Choso thrusts his hips once to test the waters. The mewl you let out makes his dick twitch inside you, feeling just how wet and tight your walls were.

"Such a tight pussy, taking my cock so well, hm?" He gains purchase on the headboard, completely hovering over you. Your hole clenches at the sight of him, the dim light perfectly shading his muscles, and his long silky hair draping over his shoulders and on his forehead. One last nod from you is all he needs to start fucking you nice and rough. "I'm not sure how gentle I can be when you look at me like that." He says, not that you would mind him being rough anyways.

Your dick is completely hard at this point, precum pooling against your abdomen. "Please..." You murmur as he finally starts moving. Immediately, you pull him to lay on top of you, hands leaving scratches along his back and legs wrapping around him to pull him closer.

"So good baby, so good, such a pretty boy..." He doesn't know what he's saying, too drunk with the feeling of your walls around him to properly praise you. He quickly loses all the restraint he had prior, fucking into you like his life depends on it. His tip constantly kissing roughly against your prostate would have you screaming if you weren't breathing so irregularly. His figure completely covering yours, he starts trailing kisses down your neck before kissing you one last time on your lips. It's sloppy, but as passionate as you could ever hope for.

Constant moans, groans, and whimpers drown out the sound of the pouring rain. His hands grip your hips once more, his thumbs reaching to press down on the bulge in your tummy. And what a great choice that was; earning a growl from Choso and a sweet moan from you. By the way you're clenching, he knows you're close. But he's done enough teasing, so he'll let you cum as you please.

"C..ho~!" Is all you can squeal out before you're cumming, letting out a silent scream. Your chest heaves, and Choso can only stare at you with adoration at the beautifully lewd sight underneath him. But just because you've finished doesn't mean he'll be any gentler.

He fucks into you faster, making you see stars as your body tenses. Placing another kiss on your neck, he whispers into your ear. "So goddamn beautiful, hm? So proud of you baby, taking my dick in such a tight little pussy." Your brain is foggy from pleasure, only letting out small "mhms!" at this point.

Already hard and leaking again, your dick twitches at each word of praise he whispers into your ear. It's not long before that knot in your stomach threatens to unwind once again. Choso, slowly losing it over how overwhelmingly wet and perfect your hole feels, groans. "Lemme cum in you, okay? That okay, baby?"

He doesn't even have to ask. But you look up at him, eyes teary from the constant pleasure and face flushed from being fucked so perfectly. You look so thoroughly fucked out, it makes Choso surprised. One small "uh huh" croaks its way out of you, and he grins.

Moving faster than before, Choso only focuses on his own pleasure now. He can't think coherently; his mind circulating thoughts of how tight you are, how he needs to cum in you, and how much he loves you. With a few more deep, sharp thrusts, the greatest reward comes. As he cums, you do as well, painting your chest once more.

Warmth seeps its way into you, stuffing you full even though his cock is no longer inside. His cum slowly leaks out, but you're trying to catch your breath and hardly notice. But him, being observant as ever, slowly trails his finger up to stuff it back inside. You whimper, and he murmurs a "sorry" for possibly overstimulating you.

"Beautiful. Just beautiful, baby boy. Absolutely perfect for me." He kisses your forehead sweetly, leaning over to grab a wipe. He gently but effectively cleans you up, wiping the cum off your tummy and the drool off your face. Gently shoving a plug in to keep his cum inside you, he smiles at the sight. His lovely boyfriend, taken care of on such a perfect day.

Your mind slowly is regaining its cohesion, and you give him a small smile in return. "Love you, Cho." You say, and his chest blooms with happiness.

"I love you too, my darling. So perfect for me." He gets up to get you a quick breakfast snack and a glass of water, returning to cuddle with you. You, being the little spoon as always, lean into his body, letting his muscular frame protect you.

It's now that you realize you can hear the sound of raindrops again, bringing a further sense of comfort. And although the room is cold, Choso perfectly warms you up. Now's the perfect time to cuddle with your boyfriend. You two wouldn't have it any other way.

#jjk x male reader #choso x reader #choso x male reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #jjk smut #i love choso #choso smut #choso just give me one chance

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shubblelive · 9 months

Text

— INVITATION

summary : after a long day of work, wilbur is desperate to curl up and spend time with his favourite girl. only problem is you’re not speaking to him.

genre : angst -> fluff, happy ending

warnings : light swearing, mentions of food/eating, wilbur being mean

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is called a girl

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a wilbur fic where the reader is an overall bubbly, energetic person and wilbur just suddenly lashes out at her one day, and she apologizes and goes home, and wilbur tries to call her and apologize and everything in the end it’s just fluff and apologies<33 tyy

word count : 2.1k

note : hi anon!! i hope you enjoy this fic, it’s a bit longer than i expected but i’m very very happy with it <3 also you referred to reader using she/her so i used those pronouns in the fic i hope that’s alright <333

you were wearing his favourite jumper. it was yours - he’d swear on it - but you were adamant that it belonged to him. it had, originally, as most of your jumpers were, been his. but he’d given it to you months ago, and you were still promising that you were going to return it one day. he hoped you didn’t.

you’d been stealing his clothes for as long as you two had been together, for the last four years he had bought every single shirt, jumper, jacket, with the knowledge that you would steal it. it made sense, in your earliest days, when the two of you were long distance. you’d arrive at his flat for a week with a half-packed suitcase, and you’d leave with nearly a drawer full of his sweaters. but even now that you lived ten minutes away, you still had a habit of nabbing his sweaters. he didn’t mind in the slightest, and most of the time he would offer up suggestions for articles of clothing you could take. you guys had been together for nearly five years, it felt weird for him to be territorial on his clothes, especially because you’d return them whenever he asked, the scent of your perfume mingling on the fabric. he absolutely loved seeing you so happy, and if you stealing a shirt or two did that then he was more than willing to comply.

or at least, he was usually. now, he was running late for a stream and he couldn’t find his grey jumper. he’d been tearing his bedroom apart piece by piece in an attempt to find it so he didn’t have to walk through the rain in just a t-shirt. he sighed and sat down on his bed, remembering that he gave it to you when he went over to your apartment earlier in the week. it had been five days since he’d seen you in person, and it was driving him crazy. he had planned to spend the night at your place after his stream though, and that was pulling him through. it was fine, he took a few deep breaths and went to go and find a jacket to wear, already pulling up twitter to post the stream would be ten or so minutes late. he remembered to tweet out about his late stream, but he hadn’t remembered to text you to tell you that he would be late coming over. you’d organised for seven, which gave him nearly three hours of streaming time, and he assured you that he wouldn’t be going for that long. he ended up jumping on a call with some other people while he played, though, and that completely distracted him. leaving the office at eight, he had his phone on speaker as he tried to order an uber and call you at the same time. he was exhausted, and of course he wanted to see you and spend time with his favourite girl, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to reach your house without falling asleep, and being more social sounded like torture.

his jacket was rough against his arms, and he remembered suddenly about the jumper. your call timed out and he finished ordering the uber for his own flat, moving to text you and tell you he didn’t feel up to hanging out.

he opened your message history, and was hit with a message from you from half-past six, over an hour and a half ago. hi wil, you’d opened with, and he softened, knowing his annoyance didn’t really mean anything. my neighbours are being really loud, so do you mind if we meet at your place? can’t wait to see you. there was another two, each sent half an hour apart, a second one apologising for messaging while he was streaming, and a third saying, hi i let myself in i hope that’s okay. are you almost home? your most recent message was nearing forty-five minutes ago, and he cursed under his breath, cancelling the uber knowing it would be faster for him to walk than wait.

he reached his apartment out of breath and cold, and he couldn’t wait to collapse into bed. he still got to see you, and hopefully your smile would be enough to rid himself of any residual annoyance he held towards you.

he dropped his guitar case on the floor in the living room, calling out your name. “lovely? you still here?”

he heard a crash from the kitchen and took his coat off, slinging it over the arm of the couch. “hang on!”

he had a headache, and he massaged his temple as he made his way into the kitchen. you brightened the second he arrived, all but running into his arms. “hi, darling,” he needed alone time. he loved you, of course he loved. you were one of the most important people in his entire life, he absolutely adored you. but right now, he craved being by himself. you were here though, so he wasn’t going to make that your problem.

“hi, wil! sorry about the mess!” you smiled up at him. “i thought i’d make food? are you hungry?”

he shook his head. “no, you’re alright. want any help?” this time it was you who shook your head, and he kissed your temple before going to sit down on the couch, closing his eyes. you’d eat, and then you guys would be able to go to bed, and when he woke up in the morning you would be there, and he’d get to take you out for breakfast and spend the entire day with you. he just needed rest.

there was something you needed, and it was on the top shelf. you didn’t want to bother wilbur, he’d just got home, you could do it yourself. wilbur was much taller than you, so to get to his top shelf you would have to climb up on the counter. you’d be alright, you didn’t need to stand up or anything, just kneeling on the bench would be fine. you got up there with ease, but wilbur came through the doorway right as you started reaching. “what are you doing?” he’d been too loud, he knew that instantly, you jumped, and he had to rush forward and stop you from falling off the counter. “what on earth are you on the counter for?”

“i was trying to reach the bowl,” you said quietly. he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“why didn’t you come get me?”

he helped you down. “i’m sorry, wil. didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. he felt a flash of annoyance, and then kicked himself for it. you were never a bother, not even when he was exhausted.

“you should have asked for help.” he said simply. “do you need anything else?”

you smiled up at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to return it. “do you wanna watch a movie? i’ve been hearing good things about this one new one, here let me-”

“stop,” he breathed out. “i’m exhausted, and i just want to be alone, and you’re here, in my kitchen crashing around and almost hurting yourself! i can’t do this right now?”

your smile ebbed, and you took a step back. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“because i didn’t want to upset you,” he sighed out, running a hand through his hair. “i just can’t do this tonight,”

“you invited me-”

“you invited yourself!” he wasn’t yelling, no, he had enough patience to not be yelling at you, but his voice was raised. “i didn’t invite you over to my house into my kitchen, to wear my sweaters.”

you’d been together for half a decade. neither of you needed an invitation, you both knew that. wilbur had given you a key because he wanted you to let yourself in whenever you needed. he’d spent entire days in your flat without you there while you were away. this had never been an issue before, and he made sure you knew that.

you stood still for a moment before reaching down and pulling off the jumper of his he’d been looking for, leaving you in a black long sleeved shirt underneath. you tossed it to him. “because you never thought to call me and let me know you’d be late. by over an hour.” you were quiet, quieter than you usually were. your voice was loud, and bright and he revelled in it, soaking up every little comment you made, every “i love you,” every giggle, he adored it.

“because not everything i do has to do with you,” he was verging on cruel, and he knew it. “i had a long day at work, and i just want to be alone, but you’re here. so i have to cater to you.”

you didn’t reply, just brushing past him, with a soft “sorry” as your arm brushed his. you grabbed your stuff and left in silence, deciding on walking home.

he rested his forehead against the closest surface - the fridge - and swore under his breath. he was still holding your jumper, and he brought it up to his face, burying his nose in it. it smelled like lavender.

he fished his phone out to call you as he retook his place on the couch, cheek still pressing into the jumper. it was soft. he loved it. he loved you. he was such an asshole.

he called. you ignored him. he called again, three times. four times over the half an hour until he knew you were home and he knew you were ignoring him. his headache had increased, and all he wanted was for you to be resting in his lap, drinking you in while you watched your movie. he opened his phone again, not to call you this time, but instead to order an uber for your place. god, they were probably making so much money off him tonight but if he had to walk the entire way to your house, he’d collapse of exhaustion. he was there within fifteen minutes, thankfully this driver not getting him lost, and he payed with one hand as he bounded up the stairs with the other. he brought out his keys on autopilot and then remembered what he’d said, putting them down to knock on your door instead.

“darling!” this time he was yelling. he didn’t care though, he needed you to hear him. it took three more times knocking and five more yelled pet names before you opened the door. your eyes were red, and you had changed into softer clothes, these ones all belonging to you. “i’m so sorry,” the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “i’m sorry i got angry, i’ve been so tired recently and that’s not your fault nor your problem, but i took it out on you and you don’t deserve that, lovely.”

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper. he took a step closer to you hesitantly, and when you didn’t step back he wrapped his arms around you.

“you’re never a bother,” he said, voice pouring with affection to make up for his thoughts betraying him earlier. “i love you more than anything. i’m sorry i didn’t show you that tonight,”

“i’m sorry for going in without you telling me,” you said.

he shook his head vehemently. “i gave you a key, lovely. i gave you a key because any space with you is better than one without.” he took your face in his hands and made you look at him as he spoke, trying to get you to absorb every word he was saying. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you, and i can’t do that if you can’t get into my house.”

you looked like you were about to start crying again, and he kissed you gently. “i’m sorry,”

“don’t be sorry,” he assured you. “just let me in? i want to watch a movie with you.” your smile came back, if only slightly, and he knew he was making progress. you brightened up every room you were in, and even if you were a little loud, and too bubbly, and you stole his sweaters, he wouldn’t want you to be any different. he kissed you again, slowly and gently and when he pulled back your eyes were sparkling. “lovely?” you hummed to show you were listening. “when we get a place together, promise you won’t climb on the counters?”

“i don’t know if i can commit to that,” you said, laughing softly. “but i’ll see what i can do.”

#wilbuh #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot angst

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jagibee · 7 months

Text

Call Me Luna

(Stray Kids x Reader)

Chapter 8

5,994 Words

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter as an apology for taking so long but also bc it was originally supposed to be two chapters and I just couldn’t find a good split point😭, and I did change the story title bc I got bored with Stray Pack but this is the same story and plot, and I’m sorry but my taglist is at its limit (which I didn’t even know existed?) so if I didn’t tag you on this post, it will be on the reblog!

Also, Happy Birthday to the love of my life who isn’t in this chapter nearly enough, but will be in the next chapter. Bang Chan, you have brought me a light and inspiration that I haven’t felt in a very long time and even if you have no idea who I am, you will always be the one for me🖤

Also

Nobody:

Me with the foreshadowing in this chap:

Let’s get started!

TW: references to sex, mentions of spanking (not necessarily sexual but could be interpreted that way)

…

You all settled down so that they could get through recording. Felix was sandwiched between you and Hyunjin, just as a small precaution in order to prevent any more growling. On your other side was Jisung and Seungmin sat on Hyunjin’s other side, providing extra padding against alphas. Chan and Changbin were both at the sound table and Minho was currently being recorded, so you didn’t have to worry much about them getting too close anyway, at least, not at this exact moment. Jeongin himself was settled at Felix’s feet like a trusty guard dog.

You, Chan, and Felix had all taken off your scent blockers as well, which helped to calm Innie down.

Minho was the last one recording, so everyone was a bit subdued. Changbin had paced around a bit while being sure to keep enough space between him and Jeongin. When the youngest alpha had recorded, everyone in the room held their collective breath, but he seemed to be doing fine.

Next to you, Jisung had leaned down so he was laying down on the couch with his feet splayed out in front of him, body posture indicating that he was zoning out, but one look at his eyes told you that he was paying rapt attention to what was happening in the recording box and at the table.

On your other side, Felix leaned his head against you and pulled out his phone instead of watching the older boys.

He pulled up Twitter and started scrolling through. You wanted to give him some privacy, but curiosity got the best of you. It’s not like he’s actively turning his phone away, you told yourself.

Once the word ‘caretaker’ caught your eye, you gave up the pretense and shifted even closer. The movement caused Felix to notice and he tilted his phone so you could see it more easily. “They’re sort of all over the place with the caretaker news.” He told you, deep voice soft as he tried to not interrupt the others. “Some people are really supportive of it but of course there are some people who think that either caretakers are sasaengs who manipulated the system so that you could be close to us, or that you’re going to steal our attention away from our fans.”

“Both of those statements are true, also, did I forget to mention I’m a spy from Dispatch meant to expose your secrets?”

Felix giggled and you let your eyes scan over the comments.

Maybe if y’all stanned TXT this wouldn’t have happened🤷‍♀️

tell this random weirdo to stay away from my lixie!!!!!!!

YALL IVE CONNECTED THE DOTS THE CARETAKER IS THE ONE IN FELIX’S BUBBLE POST

Reading over the last one, you bumped your shoulder lightly against Felix. “What exactly did your bubble post say?”

He frowned. “It just said ‘lunch with a new friend’ with a yellow heart emoji. It’s kind of impressive that they did actually connect the dots.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Well, at least people probably won’t recognize me out on the street just from my hand.”

Felix smiled and went back to scrolling, giggling at a semi-professional debate about what Lee Know would give up for the rest of his life between pudding or butt hunting.

Said pudding lover and butt hunter then finished recording, striding out of the recording box as Chan spun his chair to face the rest of the room. Changbin rolled his own chair across the floor until it stopped in front of Minho, who grabbed it and spun it so he could sit in Changbin’s lap. Changbin squeaked in surprise but didn’t make any signs of protest when Minho brought the younger’s arms to wrap around his waist.

“Alright,” Chan began, “I think it’s pretty much a free day from here on. I know Jisung has a vocal lesson and Hyune wants to talk to Y/N, but other than that, I’ll be in the studio and Minho is going to be going over choreography so if anyone wants to join either of us, feel free.”

“But not too free, I need a break from you degenerates sometimes.” Minho retorted from where his head lay against Changbin’s shoulder.

You missed what Chan said in response as you leaned across the back of the couch behind Felix to consult Hyunjin. “You wanted to talk to me?”

His wide eyes met yours then quickly moved to Felix’s hair as Hyunjin started twirling it nervously between his fingers. “Yeah. Chan-hyung said we should talk about my h-heat. Especially since it comes so quick after Felix’s that we might not have enough time between our heats to properly talk.”

You could hear the other members join Chan and Minho’s discussion, but your focus remained on Hyunjin. “That’s a good idea,” you murmured, “But you don’t want Chan or another member to sit in with us?”

He shook his head, glancing back at you and biting his lip. You didn’t want to push him when he was so clearly nervous so you nodded and turned back to the others.

Right next to you, Jisung was declaring that “this group is not a democracy, hyung”.

“Sungie, you are the one person in this room that has a strict schedule today.”

“Don’t you start with me, Kim Seungmin-”

“Okay, okay!” Chan raised his hands. “I think that’s enough. So, Han will go to his lesson, Jinnie and Y/N will talk, Seungmin and Felix will come to the studio with me, and Bin and Iyen will go with Lino to the dance studio. Wait.” He paused and turned to you. “Is it okay to have Innie with the two members he’ll be aggressive towards?”

You considered it for a moment. “I think it should be fine. It might actually be better, hypothetically, since Innie won’t have to deal with either of them getting too close to Felix, so I think he’ll actually be less aggressive.”

“If my aegi-alpha gets too aggressive, I’ll just give him a good spanking.”

Chan turned to Minho and stared at him, narrowing his eyes while his knuckles turned white from his grip on his chair arms.

Instead of retracting his statement or apologizing for it, Minho simply basked in the attention, leaning back against Changbin and crossing his arms with a smirk on his face.

You glanced at Jeongin to see his reaction, but he was a bit preoccupied with Felix’s fingers running through his hair. Innie’s eyes were shut as he leaned his head back in between Felix’s knees.

You felt like you were intruding on a special moment, so you looked up and your gaze met Chan’s. He had a soft smile as he glanced from you to the two boys.

He blinked as if coming out of a trance and cleared his throat. “So, everyone know where they’re going?”

“Wait, hyung!” Jisung’s hand shot up in the air like he was a student eager to be called on. “I know you told us that we can be comfortable around Y/N-noona, but exactly how comfortable is that? Like, is it the same level as we are with our managers, or our makeup noonas or what?”

Chan smiled at him and swiveled his chair to face him more directly. “Since Y/N’s job actually involves a little more… familiarity with our group, especially when it comes to our emotional and physical health, I figured that we could be a little more open with her. She knows about our relationship and everything. The company did ridiculously thorough background checks and she’s signed several NDAs, so we can be as honest with her as we want.”

Han scooted forwards until he was barely on the couch and gestured with his hand for Chan to come closer. When Chan rolled his chair over, Jisung leaned to whisper in his ear. Whatever he said caused Chan to giggle. “Yes, we can kiss in front of her.”

“Oh.” Jisung blinked twice. “Well, in that case…” He grabbed Chan’s collar, pulled him close, and planted an obnoxious, cartoon-level, lip-smacking kiss right on the alpha’s lips.

Chan sputtered and his ears burned as he pulled away. “I meant- why did- you didn’t have to kiss me now!”

“Nope.” Jisung wiped his mouth with the back of his hand theatrically. “But I enjoyed it.”

…

Once everyone had reapplied their scent blockers and straightened themselves up, you followed Hyunjin out of the recording room.

Instead of going to the small meeting room like you did with Chan and Felix, Hyunjin led you in the opposite direction you had come from.

He fidgeted with his hands as he walked you rode down the elevator. First, they fiddled with his jacket buttons, then his rings, then tapped against his thighs.

It was obvious he was nervous, but you didn’t want to make him even more so by pointing it out.

The two of you made your way into a room and you realized that it was the same small dance studio you had met Hyunjin in.

He stopped in the middle of the room and frowned at the wooden crates you had all sat on last time. “I guess we could move them so we sit across from each other, that seems the most professional,” he murmured while rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your mind blanked for a second before you refocused. “Well, this doesn’t have to be super professional. No one is grading you,” you joked. “Here, we can even chill on the floor if you want.” You brought some cushions from a stack in the corner of the room and brought them to the middle of the crates.

Hyunjin smiled at you and adjusted one of the cushions before sitting down on it.

You placed your own cushion on the ground across from him and pulled one of the crates over so you could use it as a back rest.

You sank down and Hyunjin smiled at you politely. “Where should we start, noona?”

You pulled your bag over and pulled out the file on him and his bandmates. Handing it over, you told him, “What Felix and I started with was going over the information the company gave me so that you know what I know and you can tell me if there’s anything wrong or anything big that the company doesn’t know or didn’t share with me. I don’t want to be overly nosy or creepy or anything, but as a caretaker, it’s important that I know things that relate to both your physical and mental health. Also, client confidentiality applies in my job, so I couldn’t tell your company anything even if I wanted to, unless it involves you hurting yourself or others.”

Hyunjin blinked at you wide-eyed, the file bending slightly in his tight grip. Then, his eyes narrowed and his lips pouted slightly.

You felt your own fists clenching around the straps of your bag at the sight, but you collected yourself when he started to speak.

“I thought you were hired by the company. Doesn’t that make them your client?”

Your smile widened at him. “What a smart question!” At this, you could see the corners of his mouth flicker up. “The company is my employer, but they hired me to be a caretaker for you, not for the company. If I had to be a caretaker for everyone in this entire company, I would scream.” You raised your eyebrows playfully. “Could you imagine if I went up to JYP and asked him to tell me about his sex life?” You shuddered theatrically.

Hyunjin let out a startled exhale which quickly morphed into full-on cackling. He threw his head back and clapped, leaning backwards and almost falling over which only caused him to laugh harder. You giggled along with him, relieved that the slight tension was dissolving.

Once you two managed to mostly calm down, he looked at you with his hand hovering in front of his mouth. “Oh my god. “‘“Oh my god”’”. Eugh!” He scrunched up his face and stuck his tongue out in disgust, which just set off another round of laughter for both of you.

You took some deep breaths and noticed Hyunjin doing the same. You both smiled at each other and he ducked his head as he went to pick up the file he had dropped when he started clapping.

He flipped through it and got to the page with his information. As his eyes scanned the page, his smile slowly faded.

“Not particularly possessive of my nests? The only reason I’m not possessive is because they’re my pack! My m- my band! They’re always welcome in my nests! I may not be as protective as Felix but it’s not like I would let just anyone in!”

Noticing his distress, but most notably, the lack of a distressed scent, you realized that you both still had your scent blockers on. You took yours off and allowed your calming scent to sweep the room. It wouldn’t be as potent to Hyunjin while he had his own scent blockers on, but you hoped he could sense it nonetheless.

You didn’t want to touch him without his consent, so you gently pushed the file down, away from where it covered his face, gaining his attention and making it easier for him to see you.

You smiled at him. “Hey, Hyunjin. You want to take a deep breath for me?”

He blinked at you twice before nodding and inhaling. He held it for a second before his cheeks puffed out as he exhaled.

“Good job! Now, I know that you’re probably upset since the company is making these assumptions about you based on limited information. I would be, too. But, since you aren’t exactly inviting your managers into your nests, does it really matter what they think about you?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he considered it. After a minute, he shook his head.

“No, it doesn’t matter. And the ones whose opinions you do care about know that you keep the nest open to them because you trust them and love them. I promise you, they don’t think any lesser of you because of the way you keep your nests.”

Hyunjin’s tense eyes softened around the edges. “I guess… that makes sense.”

Your voice took on a more teasing tone. “Do you not believe me? I could call Chan right now, and I’m certain that he would march on down from his studio just to tell you how wonderful your nests are. And I’m certain that your other packmates would be right behind him.”

Hyunjin smiled shyly as he traced a shape on the ground that vaguely resembled a heart. “Yeah, they would.”

You tapped on the file still in his other hand. “Now that that’s settled, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Hyunjin put the file down on the floor and rested his hands on top of it, like he was trying to press it into the ground. He turned his head to look at the wall of mirrors next to you and you could see him swallow. His eyes flickered back to meet yours and you could see the pure vulnerability in them. “Since you’ve been so upfront and honest with all of us, I figure I should return the favor. I… In Korea, male omegas- or, just, omegas in general, I guess, are sort of taught to hide their heats? Or, not hide them exactly, but it’s not something you really talk about? Not even with other omegas. We’re pretty much taught that heats are signs of weakness or that they’re gross to talk about, so you sort of pretend that they don’t exist, even when we would get a week off of school or work.”

He paused to look down at his hands and you waited while he took a second.

“When Felix first came over, obviously there were a lot of cultural differences between Australia and Korea. He would casually mention how he was nervous about spending his heats here. Channie-hyung and Minho-hyung helped him the most, not just because they’re the oldest, but because Chan could sympathize with the change in culture and Minho… had a lot of omegan friends back in Gimpo when he was growing up. Even when Felix got used to spending his heats here, he still never really stopped talking about them. Of course he didn’t say anything when we went out in public or anything like that, but he never tried to hide it around us.” Hyunjin’s mouth curled up at the corners. “There was this one time when we were in the dressing room and he was complaining about his pre-heat cramps loud enough for all of the staff to hear. Changbinnie-hyung’s face was so red,” he snickered.

Suddenly, his face sobered up. “I really wish I had been there for him more. As the other omega in our pack, it should have been me, but at that moment, I just felt… all I felt was shame. Shame for him, for letting other people know that he had heats, shame for me, for being the other omega and being afraid that people would think that I would talk about my heat in the same way, shame for the poor staff members who had to listen to that,” Hyunjin took a deep breath. “But then, one of the coordi-noonas came up and recommended a good painkiller brand, and one of our managers told Felix that they could buy some ice cream on the way home, and I… I was so amazed. Talking about anything related to heats was supposed to be this horrible, embarrassing thing, but instead, Felix just got sympathy and support.”

Hyunjin looked back up at you and stared deep into your eyes. “I know that I don’t like to talk about my heats, even after seeing that and being with Felix all this time, but I know that you’re here to help me and my pack, so I’m going to do my best to not be ashamed anymore.”

You took Hyunjin’s hands in yours. “Thank you so much for telling me. I really-”

You were suddenly interrupted by his stomach doing its best impression of a whale song. His eyes widened before he hid his face in his hands. “Talk about embarrassing and shameful. I guess we forgot to eat lunch.”

You cackled and stroked his shoulder in what you hoped was a soothing way. “Well,” you giggled, “should we get some now? I’m pretty hungry, too, now that you mention it.”

Hyunjin’s hands slid from his face as he looked back up at you. “Hmm. I’m kind of craving something sweet.” He turned until he was lying on the floor with his face turned towards the ceiling.

As you scooted over to lay down beside him, he sat up and stared at you with his eyes lit up. “I have a genius idea! Have you tried any good Korean snacks since you moved here, noona?”

You thought back to everything that happened since you got off the plane. “Uh… not really? There were some chips or something in the hotel room but I didn’t want to spend the company money on ridiculous stuff like that.”

Hyunjin waved his hand dismissively. “Even if you did eat them, it wouldn’t really count. Expensive places always overcharge for mediocre things.” He set his hand back on the floor and turned back to you. “Do you know what this means?”

“That I need to order more of my own snacks from home before I run out?”

“No!” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but you could see a hint of mirth in them. “Well, yes, noona, you should definitely do that. And order some for us to try. But we should raid the vending machine and have a taste testing! I even stole Binnie-hyung’s credit card this morning, so we can use that!”

You giggled at his enthusiasm for both having a taste testing and using his member’s money to pay for it. “I’m up for it if you are, but if Changbin finds out, I’m pinning everything on you. He’ll probably go easy on you, anyway.”

Hyunjin shrugged, his expression somewhere between fond and smug. “Yeah, he’ll definitely go easy on me. Especially when I tell him our pretty noona coerced me into it. He’ll understand. How am I supposed to say no to that? Anyway, we could also get some snacks to drop off at the dance studio after we’re done with our taste test, I’m sure that Changbin-hyung and Innie would be glad for a snack break.”

“I- okay.” You stuttered, trying not to fixate on the phrase “our pretty noona”. “Let’s do a taste testing. Lead the way to the vending machines.”

After reapplying your scent blocker, you both made your way down two flights of stairs and down a long hallway before you came to the vending machine. Hyunjin explained that there was one closer to the room you were in, but that this one had better snacks.

You stopped in front of the vending machine, a little surprised at how high tech it looked. You were more used to ones with sticky buttons that refused to take your dollars more often than not and that you would occasionally have to shake to free your snack. This one had a whole mini snack elevator.

“Let’s see, Innie likes these cheesy crackers, Changbin-hyung will cry if he finds out we used his credit card and didn’t get him anything, so let’s get him the barbecue chips, and this is Lino-hyung’s favorite pudding…”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you watched Hyunjin mutter to himself about his bandmates’ snack preferences. “You’re so considerate of your packmates,” you told him.

He blinked at you in surprise, like he had forgotten you were standing there with him. “Ah, well, it’s really more of a survival tactic. I have had one too many pudding lectures from hyung, so if I show up with the wrong one, who knows what he’ll do to me?”

Back in the studio, you spread your bounty around the two of you, like you were preparing for hibernation. The three snacks for the boys in the other dance studio were carefully set off to the side, so that neither of you would mistakenly eat them.

“So,” you started, “I know the nest thing sort of threw you off, but is there anything else you think I should know before your heat? It can be anything, things you like to avoid, your favorite things to nest with, things you like to eat,” you asked, shaking the bag of chips you were currently eating from. They were a bit different than what you were used to, but still pretty good.

Hyunjin hummed around a ring-shaped gummy. “Well, I like to do laundry before my heats and then get my members to scent my stuff. I just feel a bit icky when I’m not sure when the last time I washed something was. Felix likes to bake during his preheat, which is sort of perfect because I eat more than usual during my preheat, so I can just eat whatever he made and put in the fridge. But I don’t like eating during my actual heat. As for the stuff in my nest… I have this scarf that Seungminnie bought for me once when we visited Paris. And Lino-hyung gave me a scrunchie that he drew a bunch of Jureumis on that I like to wear on my wrist. Also, Jisungie got me a dumpling plushie that also has a hot water bag inside. I have some other things from the members, too, but those are the first things that come to mind. Most of the other stuff is pillows and blankets. Felix likes fluffier blankets in his nest, but I like the smoother, silkier ones. And I love having my members in my nests with me. Also, I have at least three fans going on at the same time because I hate how hot I get. I do react a bit… dramatically when my members accidentally move something in my nest, which sort of confuses me a bit because that really only happens during my heats.”

You quickly brought out your notebook and pen and scribbled down all the information Hyunjin had given you. As you wrote semi-legibly, you did your best to talk to him at the same time.

“Well, that’s definitely a heat-brain thing. Do you only feel anger or annoyance at your pack when they move your nest around or is it something else, too?”

Hyunjin stopped chewing and set down the bag of candy. “I guess… it does hurt a bit. At first. And then I growl or nip them or something like that.” He shrugged dismissively.

“And that hurt, could it be that your anger is sort of a way to get around it or cover it up?”

He looked up to meet your gaze and squeezed the plastic package so it crinkled. “That… it could definitely be that, I suppose. I think… my brain is sort of telling me that my packmates are changing my nest because they don’t like the way I arranged it.”

You nodded and set down your notebook. “Well, I know that no matter what I say, during your heat, your omega is still likely going to react like that because you don’t have the same level of brain processing power as you do when you aren’t in heat, but maybe, hopefully, you’ll feel less guilty about it afterwards. Hyunjin, you know that your members love your nests. They don’t want to move it or change it, and from what they’ve told me, they always try to move carefully so that they don’t offend you. They also understand that you’re protective of your nests and that you react, as you put it, dramatically. They know that that can be a risk to stepping into your nest, but I am sure that it’s worth it to them. Even if they get nipped or growled at, they made the choice to enter your nest and they obviously think that it was worth it if they come back again and again.”

Hyunjin watched you with wide eyes before his face broke out into a soft smile. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Plus, Lino-hyung bites the others enough that they should be able to deal with me if I bite them once or twice during my heat, even if I bite them a bit harder than he does.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and leaned backwards until he was lying down. “I can’t believe I’m in a relationship with those losers.”

You smiled at him, glad that he could go from serious topics to more light-hearted ones. You grabbed another candy bag and a question formed in your brain.

“What exactly does the company know about your relationship?” You asked, tearing open the packet, this one with cartoon purple lizards advertising how “de-liz-cious” the gummies were.

Hyunjin hummed, popping a chocolate-covered cracker into his mouth. Once he chewed and swallowed it, he passed the bag to you.

“The company knows that we help each other through our heats and ruts, that’s why they had you sign a bunch of NDAs,” he told you, “but they don’t exactly know about the actual relationship between us. They know Hannie and Lino-hyung go out together, but they don’t know they’re actually going out together. They know Binnie-hyung flirts with me, but they don’t know that I flirt back when the cameras are off. They know that Chan-hyung and Felix sleep together a lot but they don’t know that they sleep together a lot.” He paused. “And I mean a lot. Honestly, most of the time, sleeping seems to be the last thing on their minds. Horny losers.” He shook his head fondly before refocusing. “The company tells us to play things up for the camera a bit for fan service, but what they don’t know is that we’re actually toning it down.” He finished with a smirk.

You grinned. “Wow. So they don’t know you’re in a relationship at all?”

“Nope. Just our families and some of our friends know. And now you, noona.” Hyunjin rolled over and stretched his arms out. “I guess we are pretty affectionate towards each other around our staff, but I think the whole 8-members thing actually throws them off. Poly packs aren’t as common as they used to be, so it probably hasn’t even occurred to them. They likely assume that some of us are together, just in couples, but they’ve never asked us outright, I think they’re fine with acting ignorant as long as we don’t let them or the public know anything.”

You had collected all of the empty snack bags and were about to throw them away while Hyunjin stretched his arms above his head. “So, is there anything else you want to tell me? I feel like we covered a lot, but just let me know if there’s something else.”

Hyunjin had moved on to stretching his back but paused to smile at you and shake his head. “No, I think we talked about everything we needed to, noona.”

“Okay.” You collected your notebook and bag before shoving the extra snacks in there as well. “Do you think now is a good time to interrupt the dance practice?”

Hyunjin stood up gracefully and sighed. “It’s always a good time to interrupt dance practice. I think Changbin-hyung and Innie will be eternally grateful to you.”

“Not you?” You questioned. “You picked out the snacks and it was your idea.”

He waved his hand dismissively as you made your way out of the dance studio and into the elevator. “They’ll be grateful for about five minutes until they conveniently forget it. Or they’ll ask me why I didn’t come and save them earlier.”

The elevator ride was silent, but much more comfortable than when the two of you had been in the same elevator earlier. You stepped out into the hallway, following Hyunjin until he came to a door on the right.

He peeked in through the window and smiled before gently opening the door.

The song and dance they were doing weren’t as intense as some of their other tracks and routines, it was a B-side they recorded earlier that day, and were still dancing to the guide version, but you could see that they were putting in the exact same amount of effort, no matter what the tempo or sound quality was. Their moves were soft, almost floaty, but they were still very deliberate and precise.

You saw Minho’s eyes glance at you and Hyunjin in the mirror from where he was at the front of the formation, but he gave no other acknowledgment of your presence.

I.N and Changbin also noticed you, but they were less smooth about it. Changbin faltered in his movements and Innie fell behind rhythm.

“Yah, finish up the song, brats. Then we can take a break.”

At Lee Know’s words, the other two seemed to come alive, dancing with more energy than before. The song wasn’t much longer, and their positioning for the ending pose almost made you laugh out loud. Of course, the dance was meant to be for eight members, and there were quite a few missing, so there was Minho and Innie posed together on one side of the studio and Changbin all alone on the other side. Evidently Hyunjin shared the same thoughts as you, but didn’t keep quiet about laughing, even as you two clapped politely.

“Oh, my Binnie-hyung, are you lonely over there?” Hyunjin teased.

Changbin unfroze from his pose to flop down on the wood floor, all splayed out and breathing heavily, but focused on Hyunjin. In a high-pitched voice, he called out, “Yah, Hyunjin, I’m always lonely when I’m away from you!” He wriggled on the floor in a way that you guessed was supposed to be cute, but his obvious lack of energy made it seem more like a fish flopping around on land.

Hyunjin giggled and walked over to Changbin, squatting and grabbing the alpha’s outstretched hand as he murmured something you couldn’t hear.

Innie had flopped down as well, almost mirroring Changbin as he took deep breaths. Minho had walked over to turn the music off, and then sat on the couch with a water bottle.

Seeing that he was mostly okay, you turned back to I.N. “Hey, little alpha. Do you want me to bring you your water bottle?”

Jeongin let out a loud groan that echoed around the studio. “Oh my gosh, noona, you are seriously my new favorite person. Yes, please. It’s the green one.”

You walked over to the wooden counter and retrieved the green water bottle. You spotted a blue and pink water bottle next to it and, deducing that it was Changbin’s, you handed it to Hyunjin to give it to Changbin before you headed back over to I.N.

You squatted next to him just as a loud groan pierced the air. “Y/N! You are welcome to stay with our group for the rest of our lives! I’m going to produce a song about you and sing it at every single concert and award show!”

You smirked at Changbin’s words as Innie thanked you for his water. “Just for brining you your water bottle? At least wait until you see what Hyunjin and I brought in my bag for you.”

Changbin sat up like he was possessed. “What do you have?”

You walked over to your bag and unzipped it, pulling out the barbecue chips Hyunjin had picked out. You tossed them over to Changbin, whose eyes widened as he caught them and read the label. “Yah, Y/N, how did you know I liked these?”

You shrugged as you made your way over to Minho, pudding in hand. “A certain omega packmate of yours might have told me. It was actually his idea, so make sure to thank him.”

Hyunjin had fully sat down next to Changbin, but now, Changbin tackled him onto his back and wriggled the two of them around like happy earthworms.

Minho smiled and thanked you as you handed him the pudding before peeling it open and lying down on the couch. You weren’t entirely sure how safe it was to eat the pudding like that, but he seemed confident in his abilities, like he had done this before, so you left him to it and walked over to Jeongin with the cheese crackers in hand.

Innie had been staring at the other two members, his expression one of disgust, but you could see the fondness sparkling in his eyes. “Gross,” he stated, as Changbin started kissing all over Hyunjin’s face.

“Hopefully, you’ll find this a little less gross,” you told him as you handed him the crackers.

His eyes lit up as he took the packet from you. “Thanks, noona.”

You zipped up your bag and threw it to the other side of the room. “You should be thanking Hyunjin, he picked them out for you.”

Jeongin frowned as he ripped open the snack package. “I don’t need to thank him. If anything, this is what I deserve as compensation for dealing with him.” His eyes wrinkled with his smile as he stuffed a cracker in his mouth. “Oh, thank you, noona! I’ve been extra hungry all day for some reason.”

You smiled and were about to respond when you were interrupted by Hyunjin flopping down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. “Yes, thank you, noona. I’m really glad that you’re our caretaker. We haven’t known you for long, but I can tell that we’re going to love you.”

…

Sorry for any mistakes, I edited this and posted it in my college’s parking lot😭

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pursuitseternal · 19 days

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Secrets and Sensuality in Chapter 3 of “A Night with the Ascendant”

Ascended Astarion x Spawn (Lumina) | E | 2.8K

🎨 by @snowfolly

Summary: Lumina confronts Lord Astarion about the sudden change in her abilities. She only finds more questions and a stronger curiosity over her possessive, obsessive Master who distracts her the best way he knows… in his bed.

CW: half-truths, smut as distraction, sneaky (not)-spawn Lumina, BG3 game references, No Tav, dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, throat fucking (that kind where she’s upside down off the bed).

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 3…

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“What happened?” Lumina asked, direct but softly as he let her in through their conjoining door.

“Good morning, my little mistress,” Astarion smirked down at her, looming over her for a moment too long before he stepped back to allow her inside. “It seems to be a beautiful day out,” he flashed her a devilish smirk as she drew to a stop in the patches of sun spilling from his windows.

“What… happened?” she just repeated. Oh, she was good, he assessed. Eyes downcast, and hands clasped softly, but the tension in her shoulders and jaw, that hard press of her voice in her throat…. He could tell she was nearly ready to scream.

He looked at his nails, perfectly manicured, keeping his eye from her diverted, if furious, scarlet stare. “You mean what gives you the power as a spawn of mine to stand in the sun… to feel so strong and powerful?” He glanced up sharply to watch her give a single nod. Controlled and suppressed, daring of her. “Simple, it is I who give you that power… it’s because of my generosity and favoritism towards you. No others will call those powers their own…” he lowered his hand, half of a bow to her in mock deference. “They are yours alone, my treasure, because you are mine.”

Lumina drew her little frame to its full height, still only reaching her face to his neck. “That may be, my lord, my love, but I know magic when I feel it.”

“My dear, my very existence is magic,” he swept his arms wide. “And you, blessed you, are the only one to share in a mere sliver of that magic.” He reached for her jaw, cradling it to draw her face even closer to his own. “Let that answer be good enough for you, my mistress,” he breathed, his words sweet in tone but exacting as a command. “I would give you anything to make you happy… the world, my own essence, my magic… to keep you as mine.” I pulled her forward and ordered her, “Kiss me.”

Lips devoured hers, fangs clacking on her own, his kiss branded her mouth and flooded her senses. But her mind still raced, seeking out those tendrils of his power that usually accompanied his orders. But they never came. She sequestered away that observation as she soon grew lost in his taste and touch that permeated every following coherent thought. Her body lifted into the air, cradled in his arms to then be rested gently in those silken sheets across his familiar bed.

No more thoughts crossed her mind, not as he hiked up her skirts and his cock slid into her, that scent of his skin, of perfume and sweat and sex intoxicating her. More, she needed more after being at such a great distance from her heart’s desire for so long before this. His voice hissed into her ear, lustful words that made her quake with need. “My little mistress, my little treat to savour, all flushed now and hot for me…”

Lumina groaned, her body indeed on fire now, pinned and naked for their pleasure. “Yes, gods yes…” she groaned as he filled.

“Much more to me than a plaything, than some spawn,” he continued. “So much more…”

Limbs hummed and clung to his frame as he began to slowly thrust in and out, that devilishly tempting pace she had grown addicted to. “But you seem to be having… fun, my lord.”

He chuckled deep in his throat, the vibrations passing into her own skull it seemed. “I am… it’s hard not to with you, my Little Light.”

She rewarded that with a kiss, a never ending tangle of tongues and gnashing of fangs that stole her breath. Lost was the end of her body and the beginning of his—he was everywhere all at once, as if his presence raged in her very veins.

Pleasure swept her away, time after time, round after round as he had savored her affections before his journey. And in the end, even in the pooling sunlight of the afternoon, she ended the same—resting semi-conscious and sweetly smiling in his bed. The last sensation she recalled were his smoothe, dexterous fingers brushing through her straw-golden locks.

Then she rested.

The sun had risen high by the time Lumina stirred. She stretched her aching muscles, looking out the open window to see the City bathed in the sun, to hear the voices of life whining in the distance from beyond the place walls. She stood, scanning his rooms to find herself alone. It was such a bright and airy chamber, it stole her breath, never having witnessed it during the day… before…

…before whatever it was that had given her this power to stand in the sun and not char to a crisp.

Crystal chandeliers gave off sparkles of light, the brilliant hues of leather covers dotting the room in a prism of colors. Such decadence and luxury and beauty.

Just like him.

But as her wits finally returned, as the allure of his sensuality faded, Lumina couldn’t push away those suspicions anymore.

What had she become… what did he do to her, this gift of being made his mistress. What did it all mean?

Perhaps, he hadn’t meant for her to wake up alone, perhaps this was a chance.

And, from what she knew in life, urchin wretches like her had to take their chances.

On silent feet, she scrutinized his room, those sharp eyes that could find any object out of the ordinary, the keen sense she had honed as an indentured servant, a slave to a brute of man, came back raging full force as she looked for… anything.

She scanned his vanity, nothing out of the ordinary, kohl for his eyes and bits of fine jewelry, a basket of rings, a collection of scents and oils for his body and hair. Just looking at them made her smell his scent in her nose.

It made her salivate and grow insanely wet between…

No, no. She had to keep searching.

Shelves, lined with books upon books, cast some of the only shadows in his room at this time of day. Tidy and cared-for, well-loved and organized. Each stack held different topics—botany and necromancy, the magic of Karsus, the history of Avernus, the legend of the Blade of Frontiers, and Sharan worship… such a unique collection of topics, she observed.

But something drew her notice… a smaller bound leather journal wrapped tightly in its own little bindings. Glancing at the door, she pulled this one from the shelves. Nervousness shook her hands.

Surely… he had been so generous before, letting her choose any book at whim. Even if this was a journal, not a book per se.

Opening the cover, it was written in a tight and exact hand. Each page was speckled with regular updates, lists of quests and questions… Observations of Illithids and healers, Tieflings and Goblins in the… Emerald Grove… little notes about individuals… the Daughter of Darkness… the Wizard of Waterdeep…

Lumina paused. Titles that rang some bell in her head about the history of Baldur’s Gate. Her mind whizzed through the stories, accounts from the history books told by the actors themselves. The heroes.

Finally her eyes settled on one list of notes on the Pale Elf….

“Astarion…” she breathed into the silence, “the Saviours of Baldur’s Gate.”

She sat down with the journal, pouring over it as she settled cross-legged on the floor. So many details and intricacies and trials and tribulations, stated so matter of factly… words flew by her in a flash, she couldn’t devour the notes fast enough. They were fables, tales from two centuries ago, the literal stuff of legends—those six companions and their tadpoles who brought down the Dead Three and the plot of the Absolute.

She could feel her heart racing, the account of Astarion, a slave and spawn, seeking vengeance against his tormentor and master, taking his power, taking for himself everything that was so long denied to him.

Her heart could burst… from pride in him, from envy for a story not unlike her own. For as much as those in the Upper and Lower Cities whisper about the Ascendant as ruthless, a monster… a villain. For all of that, he was her hero.

Astarion, her dark saviour, scooping her from the darkness to give her light… sent to sweep her off to his palace, giving her a place where she belonged.

With a sigh, she lost herself tin that feeling, her fingers tracing over the worn vellum pages in a sort of bliss….

“Little Light, whatever could be the matter?” his voice purred from above her. Glancing up, he towered from behind, his elegantly stitched trousers hugged his muscles. The ivory of its silk let all the heat of his body radiate against her back. “Why ever are you on the floor?” He leaned closer, his breath seeping into the mussed curls of her pale blonde hair. “And what have you… found?”

His voice dropped from that sultry velvet of a purr to something deeper. A growl.

Lumina gave a radiant smile from the floor at his feet. “Oh, just a uniquely scribbled little journal from two-centuries ago…”

A slow roll of a laugh drew closer as he crouched beside her, deftly his fingers grabbed the journal from her hands and tossed it across the room. “You should forget what you have read, my love. Ancient records of people long gone, names all but faded from history and time, mouldering graves and dusty bones…”

Her nose wrinkled at him, her pale brows furrowed. “Not you, not the Pale Elf…”

The scowl on his face silenced her faster than if he had smacked her across her cheek. “You will not call me that,” he snapped on each word. Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her to her feet before him to stop at the edge of his bed.

“I… I thought it would be acceptable to look through your books as you have allowed me to before…”

He laughed, low and quiet. Dangerous. “I leave you alone, my lovely little mistress for an hour or so, and you’ve gone and pried into things you shouldn’t have,” he hissed, bringing his lips right to her ear and nipping the soft flesh of its lobe. “Cheeky little pup. I’ll have to do something about it, like punish you.”

“P-punish?”

“Oh, no, nothing you won’t also enjoy, I’m sure,” he led her towards his bed, his hand wrapped firmly around her arm, touch hot through the silk sleeve of her dress. “After all, I am enamored of your spirit, your brilliance and sneakiness… but…”

He looked down on her, slowly slinking closer and closer until she butted against the edge of his bed. Instincts roared at her, she placed a hand on the thin fabric of his shirt and teased her fingers into the deep cut that ran down his chest. “If you want to play, all you have to do is ask. I don’t require threats of punishment to… be a good girl for you, my love.”

His grin spread like a shadow, silent and creeping, to twist his face. Lurching forward, he closed in on her, hands braced on the edge of the bed as she flopped down on her butt, almost bouncing on it. His smirk was elegant and dangerous. Just like him. “What a good little mistress you are… I’ll reward you for your spirit then, but I will remind you that I am no hero, Lumina. The man you read recorded in that journal is dead, along with all those other unfortunates…”

Those soft scarlet eyes reflected up at him, a sadness behind the shine of her lust. She licked her ruby lips and let a single fang bite into that pouting expression. Devotion incarnate, he grinned.

So many words filled her thoughts as she looked up at him. So many questions, all of them rooted deeply in her admiration for him and in the profound sadness she knew she saw behind his steely gaze. But every word, she swallowed down for now, parting her lips instead and pulling him by his collar to kiss her.

Devouring, consuming, his lips stole her air from her lungs and senses right from her mind. All she was now was need and desire, a whimper breaking from her throat as he pulled from her kiss all too soon. His look was pure lust, dark desire as he twirled his finger at her. An order to turn around. Obeying, she turned her back to him as she sat near the edge of the bed.

His breath was hot in her ear as he whispered against it. “Lie down, Little Light, and do try not to gag….”

Eyes shot wide, Lumina shivered as she scooted further into the center of the bed, laying on her back up at where he stood over her. His smile flashed at her upside down as she was, all the more thrilling and slightly sinister as she felt disoriented. Hands gripped under her arms and slid her just right, making her head hang off the ledge.

Her world practically spun, watching his fingers unlacing his breeches, that thick, hard, and veiny cock releasing from within to hang its shadow over her face. Fingers curled deftly around his shaft, stroking him harder, the other hand thrust a thumb inside her mouth to pull her jaw open gently. She could help but smile as his fingers stroked under her chin, that pink head of his cock slowly sweeping into her mouth and down her throat.

The undead beat of her heart pounded harder, already she could feel a light headed tingle as she felt him pull out slowly and thrust back in. Deeper this time. She laughed around his cock, feeling it twitching in her mouth as the vibrations tickled him.

Hips slowly pistoned back and forth. Every thrust sent the front of his hips to press against the top of her head, flooding her nose with the musk of his arousal. Lumina closed her eyes, keeping herself lost in the feeling of his cock in her mouth and his hands wandering over her neck and into her dress. Fingers latched around a breast, Astarion squeezed as he began to thrust harder into her mouth, leveraging his movements on that swaying fullness in her dress.

“Swallow around me,” he growled, “let me feel how hungry you are for your reward, even when you’ve been rather willful.”

She obeyed, her throat closing around his thrusts for a moment. A new magic pooled inside her mind and went taught, as if something was struggling to make itself known. A growl in his throat, and he just fucked her faster. “See, my naughty little minx, I am not some hero. A rake, a monster to some, a lover and master to you, Little Lumina….” He clawed his nails into her flesh, one around her breast, the other into the side of her throat where he gripped her now.

She needed to swallow again, drool running up her cheek as she hung suspended for his pleasure. A clutch of his fingers hard on her nipple, and she moaned with full voice. Suddenly, she tasted him, that sweet, warm bitterness that she knew so well filled her throat. As he groaned loudly over her, hands clawed hard into her skin, she felt a snap in her mind… images of Astarion, dressed in armor, blood spattered and beautiful, two daggers in hand as he tore through enemies…

She opened her eyes as he pulled his cock from her lips, letting a trail of cum dribble up her face. He stroked his finger through it, caressing her cheek. Palm at the back of her shoulder, he rolled her over and raised her up to his smirking mouth with two fingers under her chin. “Now…”

But she placed a hand on his lips to quietly hush him. “My love,” she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. “You don’t have to be a hero to the City, or to the world, or in memory of anyone you lost. But you should know… you are a hero to me. You pulled me from a fate worse than death by giving me undeath.” She kissed his lips softly,”I will forever be thankful for that, my lord.”

His lips were frozen as she worked hers feverishly. Pulling away from her, he quickly stuffed his cock back into his trousers to run a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner, my darling.” He tried to return to that velvety tone in his voice, that confident swagger in his stride, but he nearly choked and nearly laid himself out flat prone on the ground. “Be in the dining room sharply for me…”

With that, the door shut behind him. And Lumina was left perching on his bed, with more questions than answers and with a new tingling sensation in her mind.

It was different than his tendrils of compelling, brighter and stronger, a bridge and not a leash.

Perhaps… something would help her find the answer to what sort of magic he must have done to her. Whatever it was that gave her strength to endure sunlight, awareness to sense his innermost thoughts. Somewhere here… he must have the answer to his secrets. She just had to find them.

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astralexpressarchives · 7 months

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The Renheng Iceberg Explained

Alright so there's this renheng iceberg on twitter that I was recently informed about. I'm wayyy too deep into the lore so I skipped to the bottom and everything there was stuff I was already more than familiar with.

So I figured why not put all this information to some use and make a post explaining the more obscure items on the iceberg and leaving out the self-explanatory ones, doing my best to reference as well as possible.

Blade gazing at Imbibitor Lunae statue

This was a hidden interaction where you could find Blade standing near the statue of Imbibitor Lunae at the scalegorge after revealing Dan Heng's vidyadhara form. He says he is 'mourning for folly' and asks you if Dan Heng is happy. You can watch a video about this here.

Good friends who are bad for each other

This is Kafka's description of what she knows about Blade and Dan Heng's history in her companion quest. This answer is a "truth" in her game of truth and lies.

"Apparently, they used to be good friends... Well, good friends who were bad for each other. Bladie forgot nearly everything, so he doesn't remember well. Together, they did something bad — something terrible. It led to horrific consequences. That's the information I managed to piece together. Bladie refused to tell me the details."

Dan Heng gets nightmares about blade

We see this in-game in the cinematic leading up to the Xianzhou questline. This is also suggested in the Only Silence Remains lightcone description.

Matching Jade Ornaments

Referring to this idea.

There is also a vidyadhara egg that says:

"You edge closer to the pearlescent shell and have a dream in which you are a Pearlkeeper who rides the waves, and travels across the ancient sea with your true love. The time you have spent with your lover is full of happiness, but the time of hatching rebirth is determined by destiny. You secretly put a jade pendant in your mouth so your lover can recognize each other in the next life."

And considering that DH:IL 4 story has him refusing to speak during the entirety of his interrogation, death sentence, and final verdict, it definitely leaves room for imagination.

Bracer Lore

This one encompasses a few of the other ones on the iceberg, too. Really, it's worth reading the entirety of the Passerby of Wandering Clouds relic set lore. Keep in mind all relic sets are in chronological order of head/gloves/body/feet. The bracer also mentions this part about 'That owner also once shared company and drinks with the unnamed, the two of them simply gazing at the moon with no words exchanged.' This has an interesting meaning in CN that tells us this drinking was an engagement ceremony. People thought this must be a typo but, despite many tickets from people, their only response has been that they're unable to comment further. They still haven't changed it as of patch 1.4.

Dan Heng polishes and gaze longingly at Cloud Piercer

A recent addition in patch 1.4 where Pom-pom now says:

"Passenger Dan Heng often carefully maintains and polishes his spear. Although the Express is very safe, it seems that he is not willing to drop his guard. Hmm, Pom-Pom can tell that when he polishes his spear, there isn't just alertness in his eyes, but a glint of longing, too. Don't underestimate me, Pom-Pom had dealt with all kinds of different passengers!"

I'm sure by now everyone knows that cloudpiercer was made by Yingxing (Blade).

You can see screenshots of this interaction in this post.

Mirror Inverted Colours

Apparently, a big part of CN character design focuses around the concept of inverted colour palette designs for ships. Because Blade and Dan Heng share inverted colours, this is considered a good sign for the ship as it indicates they were most likely designed together.

Danmei Coded

Danmei is the CN genre for mlm. It has a lot of stereotypical tropes that are very common in this genre and apply to renheng also. My personal opinion is that renheng is very similar to something written by Meatbun in particular - this is a danmei author who wrote erha, yuwu, and casefile compendium. The associated tropes are:

Lovers to enemies back to lovers angst timeline often including misunderstandings involving tragic betrayal

Black/red character x white/blue/green character

Under the moonlight

Amnesia and/or reincarnation themes

Protag did something that made everybody turn on them + complicated political drama plot

Redemption in death/isolation/retreating from the world at the end

Waiting frankly ridiculous amounts of time to be with the lover again

One character pursuing the other character literally

One character considered dead or demonic in some capacity, the other is ethereal and godly

Mortal x immortal

Afterlife/spirit realm shenanigans usually involving fractured souls as a result of torment

Contrasting personalities + others don't think they should get along/are bad for each other (usually the deviant personality is considered to be corrupting the noble/revered personality in some way which often involves a rebellion)

Mirrored Ultimates

Their ultimate animation sequences are very similar with close eyes with weapon - open eyes - attack.

And both of their ultimates take place in different versions of the same location:

Vidyadharas can't identify items belonging to their past yet Dan Heng got the bracer, jade pendant(?), and cloud piercer

There is an NPC named Lingling in the alchemy commission who is responsible for assisting in vidyadhara hatching rebirth. She collects the personal belongings of vidyadhara who claim that they want to keep the items for their next life. She says that:

From what I've seen, most Vidyadhara lack emotions fresh after their rebirth, and are unable to understand the sentiments of their previous selves. Not a single one has ever been able to identify which one of these items used to belong to them.

This is a big indicator that DH = DF and that their romance will be continuing in this life, too. We know from Passerby of Wandering Clouds relic set that Dan Heng is still in possession of the bracer because of the line: "His fingertips could still faintly feel the temperature from the other."

The stars always accompany the moon

This is a reference to their names in CN where the Xing in Yingxing means moon and the Yue in Yinyue jun (Imbibitor Lunae) means Moon. Their ship name Xingyue means Star and Moon, which is often why you will see them referred to with the Star/Moon emojis as well as the sword/leaf emoji.

Blade came to see Dan Heng blushing when Xiyan asked him to act the character in his story

This is referring to this video on weibo where Dan Heng is talking to Xiyan. You can see the characters in the crowd then Dan Heng starts blushing. The next time you see the crowd, Blade has arrived third from the right.

"Eternal Regrets of a High Elder" and "Dreams from a Past Life"

These are arias from the Cloudcry Songbook written by a Vidyadhara named Lingjie who reincarnated into Chunfen. Lingjie was an opera singer and apparently a big fan of Dan Feng and his romantic life.

My friend wrote the poem analysis of both of these arias. I would strongly recommend reading her translations.

TW: These translations do include mentions of a new leaked poem. Some of the content is NSFW.

Dan Heng named himself "Dan Heng" due to the "Dan" character carved by Yingxing/Blade

We know that Vidyadhara do not usually name themselves based on their past lives as they have no attachment to them. The other iteration of Dan Heng was named Yubie for example. Dan Heng's name in CN is 丹恒. The Dan 丹 means red/pellet/powder/cinnabar. You can see Dan is inscribed on his spear that Yingxing made for him, thus the logical conclusion is that Dan Heng saw the inscription and chose it as his name.

The Star of the East (Jupiter, Wood Star)'s god is Ying Xing, and their guardian beast is Azure Dragon/Canglong/Qinglong

This one is the only one I didn't understand when I first saw it, so I had to request the help of my CN knowing friends to figure it out.

Yingxing's name is 应星 (where the 星 means star).

The CN god of Jupiter Taisui Xingjun 太岁星君 is known as Yin Jiao 殷交

Jupiter is the planet associated with the Chinese wood element, known as the wood star

Azure Dragon is known as Canglong or Qinglong in CN. This is the guardian of Jupiter (the wood star).

Blade's fansong equates Yingxing with 听星 (judging star) which is an alias for Taisui Xingjun

You can read my friend's explanation of the relevant line in the fansong below.

Dan Feng's crime was inspired by Chang'E, the moon goddess for stealing an elixir of immortality and Yingxing was inspired by Hou Yi, a mortal and husband of Chang'E (he was given immortality but didn't, this parallels and contrasts Yingxing's immortality)

So there's actually a bit more to this. I'm going to just use my friend's explanation here:

According to Shang dynasty’s Guicang, It is said that there is a moon maiden who escaped to the moon after stealing an immortality pill. This story was eventually given more details: The moon maiden became known as Heng’e 姮娥, who was the wife of Hou Yi - the hero who shot down the 9 suns. Hou Yi was given an immortality pill/herb as a reward, but Heng’e stole it and flew to the moon. In some versions, upon finding out, Hou Yi tried to shot down her to prevent her from floating to the moon, but he hesitated and ended up choosing not to in the end because he still loved her. In the moon, Heng’e stayed in a palace called 廣寒宮 (the Vast Palace of Coldness) and cursed to be separated from her husband, alone with only the moon rabbits and the immortal osmanthus tree forever. Later on, her name was changed to Chang’e 嫦娥 because Emperor Wen of Han’s name was 劉恆 Liu Heng, and so the 姮 Heng part of her name became a taboo. The interesting here is that 姮 (Heng’e), 恆 (Liu Heng), 恒 (Dan Heng) are all alternative ways to write the same character, 姮, which originally means moon, Heng’e. In addition, we also have a lot of official artworks depicting Dan Heng with the moon and osmanthus flowers:

Yeah so I think that just about covers everything. I left out the ones that were self-explanatory but if anyone is still confused about any of them I can try to elaborate further in the replies.

#honkai star rail #hsr lore #renheng #xingyue #dan heng #blade #dan feng #yingxing

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

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AITA for wanting to break up with my boyfriend?

I, 18f, graduated high school this year and will be heading off to college in about a month. I've been with my boyfriend, 17m, nearly all of high school and he is one of the most wonderful, amazing, kindest people I know and I love him. We're not planning on going to the same college, even though we'll be doing virtually the same major (theatre performance vs theatre design and production, that's how we met).

However, much as I care for him, I just can't see myself spending the rest of my life with him. He's been my first and only serious romance, and while his parents were high school sweethearts, I know it rarely works out that way for most people. Recently he asked me where he saw us in five years (when I'd be out of college) and he still saw us together, wanted to be together, and he's made a few references to wanting to be together as adults after college. I honestly told him that I don't know, I have no clue where college would take each of us, and if we'd still be together even when we go separate ways. I don't have anywhere near his level of certainty in a future with us together.

In the same conversation he mentioned that when he graduates (he's a year under me, junior when I was a senior) he'll be leaving on his mission for two years and when he gets back he's not sure about college, he's always planned on going but he said that because it would mean he's doing a four year degree and in college for two extra years after I graduate (both of us in for 4 years). He said that if we were still together then, he might not even go to college for the sake of being with me and that just made me feel very guilty and uncomfortable because that's a massive life choice and he's never expressed interest in not going to college until then and I don't want to be the sole reason he changes his mind on something like that, I don't want him to give up on a degree and potentially the career he wants for my sake. We talked about it then, he didn't intend for it to come across the way it did for me, and he still has plenty of time to think about it with next school year then two years on his mission. We both apologized and there's no hard feelings, but it still leaves me feeling strange.

He's also very religious, not in a bad way, and I'm not at all. I find religion a fascinating topic academically but it's not for me at all and while I've had many long discussions about it with him before and it's always an interesting and lighthearted topic, I know there's this unspoken expectation that I would have to (or at least would be 'supposed' to) convert if we were to get married, and that's not something I could do even just in name if not in actual beliefs.

Right now I don't want to leave him, as I said, I adore him and he's one of the most wonderful people I know, I'm incredibly happy with him, but in all honesty, I don't see myself still being with him in five years once I'm out of college, I don't see myself marrying him, I can't see us spending the rest of our lives together. I think in the end we're just too different, he wants kids and I don't, he's religious and I'm not, it's just not it, and I know that if I ended up with him I would spend my life feeling like I settled for him just cause he's who I'm with now when there could be someone else. He deserves the very best in life and deserves to be happy, and I don't feel like I can give that to him, but I don't want to just leave him because we are happy right now and I do love him and want to be with him for as long as I can be, but not forever.

The problem is, he's so hopeful and we're so happy right now and I've just been holding onto this for a while and I feel like a complete asshole for not telling him how I feel and not being honest about the future. When I went and told a friend this, her first response was that I'm just leading him on and making it even harder for when we eventually do break up or grow apart, and that's also been weighing on me. I don't want to lead him on or give him false hope about a future together when I can't see that happening, and I can see how my actions here can be cruel and hurtful and that I'm essentially lying to him as to not hurt him. That same friend also suggested slowly ghosting him in college and allowing us to drift apart slowly and let that happen, and that also feels like an asshole move because I'm honestly closer to him and his parents than I am my own family.

But in the end, am I the asshole for not wanting to be with someone who wants to be with me and looking forward eventually not being with him even if I do love him and want to be with him now? Am I the asshole for essentially completely leading him on?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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the-common-cowgirl · 7 months

Text

Greater of Two Evils - Part 2

Summary: Aemond’s presence looms within you like a bad drug. You can’t deny him, you can’t run from him. He confines you to your own, private circle of the seven hells like you’re his property. His broodmare. His trophy.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit, +18, MDNI

Warnings: Modern AU, DUBCON, Smut (fingering, p in v), manipulation, pregnancy test, forced pregnancy, misogyny, swearing, defensive dissociation, DD;DNE

Word Count: 4K

A/N: I wasn’t originally going to make this a series but y’all liked it soooo…..

Series Masterlist

Negative.

“Fuck yes,” you nearly cried as you held up the pregnancy test in disbelief. Covering your mouth, trying not to draw attention to yourself in the apartment’s bathroom. Your brother was home; on the phone and upset about a deal a certain politician had blocked.

You were so happy though. You squealed into your hand as you looked at the door, hoping he wouldn’t come barging in and wondering the reason for your happy squeals.

He couldn’t know. Fuck. He couldn’t know.

Taking the test box and the strip, rolling it in toilet paper, you snuck to your own room down the hall without a second glance from your brother in a heated argument in the kitchen with Gods knows who.

You stuffed the rolled up test strip and box into your backpack before grabbing your Political Science book. You had a plan to throw the test away in a University trash bin and if your brother questioned you, you’d have an alibi: Political Science study group, meeting at 4 a.m. this afternoon, in twenty minutes. But thankfully, you went unnoticed as his discussion was heated and he paced the kitchen.

You hadn’t waited long for the bus -you had refused your brother’s offer of a private driver when you started University and for once, he accepted your refusal - before a strange black car pulled up. With no one around in the broad daylight, you weren’t frightened but you did take a step backward as the back passenger’s side window rolled down and then, your heart sank when you saw familiar silver locks.

“Get in,” Aemond commanded.

“I’m waiting for my bus.”

“Where are you going?” He nearly chuckled as if he knew you didn’t actually have a study group to get to.

“None of your business.” You looked anywhere but the car, trying to stop the bus that was due to come.

“Get in or I’ll have my people send pictures of you buying a pregnancy test to every media outlet in Dorne.”

Fuck.

You had no option but to open the door and slide into the car next to Aemond. Unfortunately, there was a dividing wall between the driver and the backseat and you grew nervous in Aemond’s presence alone. Silently hoping he just wanted information on your brother.

“What was the result?” He looked at you expectantly as you stared at the wall in front of you.

Oh Gods, oh Gods, no.

“Negative.” Cold, terrified.

“Hmm,” unamused, as if you told him a bad joke. He then placed a hand on your knee and every hair on your body stood at attention.

“And what did your brother think of my little game?”

He was referring to blocking your brother’s trade deal, not backing it, making it fall through.

“He was on the phone when I left,” seeing no reason to lie to the literal Devil, he’d find out one way or another. “He’s,” you paused, gulping as Aemond moved up your thigh, “angry.”

Aemond let out one dark chuckle, “Good.” He looked out the window, the car was driving aimlessly, “Where were you going?”

His question, this time, proved an opportunity to escape so you gave him the same lie you had prepared for your brother. “Political Science study group.”

Before you could think, Aemond grabbed your backpack and pulled it into his lap. You were too stunned to reach for it as he opened the bag and pulled out your Political Studies textbook. It was a heavy book, thick with a hardcover. If you didn’t hold it in two hands, your hand would cramp but Aemond, of course, held it in one, turning it over to confirm it was as you had said. He hummed and set the heavy book aside before digging through your bag to find the rolled up pregnancy test box with the negative strip inside.

Fuck.

Aemond procured the single lined strip and carefully inspected it before scoffing, “You’re going to a study group with a pregnancy test in your backpack?” He looked at you carefully, waiting for you to explain yourself.

You gulped, “Well, I-”

“Stop,” he cut, putting the negative test in the inner pocket of his suit jacket, “I don’t want to hear your lies. Driver-” he rolled a small window down and leaned forward, “Take us back to her apartment complex.” Aemond grabbed your phone from between your thighs and unlocked it, showing your face. Again, you were too stunned to do anything in retaliation, feeling like a dumb little girl in Aemond’s presence. You could see that he added your number to his phone and sent you a text, handing your phone back to you.

Tomorrow. 8pm. Tell your brother you’re going to a fall dance. Wear the green dress.

You looked from your phone to Aemond, wondering what he wanted you to do tomorrow and a pit started to form in your stomach. “My brother will never let me go to a dance.”

He chuckled, “He’ll be too preoccupied with tomorrow that he won’t care.” The car rolled to a stop, you looked out your window to see your apartment complex and every fiber in your being made you want to leap out of the car as fast as you could but you knew, deep down, it wasn’t safe to show Aemond how scared you were. He seemed to be a man that fed off the fear of others. You slowly opened the door and stepped out with your bag, phone and book - not entirely everything you had when you first entered the vehicle.

“Remember,” Aemond called from the car and you leaned down to look at him, “do as I say. Green dress. 8pm. Look presentable.”

You didn’t know why but his last words seemed to cut you deeper, look presentable. Did you not look so now? And why did you care what this psychopath thinks? Why did he have this invisible hold on you?

You didn’t know, but you nodded and watched the car drive away.

The next evening, you had showered, done your hair into loose waves, and fixed your makeup sultry but subtle. You paired everything with red lipstick and finally, it was time to slip into that damn green dress. The green dress that started everything. As you pulled it on, you felt your stomach lurch with the memories of that night. That night when Aemond played a game with you in the event space for the public’s eye only to play an even more, more sinister game with you upstairs. Gods, you were an idiot for allowing him to play with you. You promised yourself you wouldn’t let him do it again this time, but silently wondered how serious you were as you looked at yourself in the full length mirror of your bedroom. You looked ravishing, honestly, and you wondered why you let yourself look this nice with a man that had done what he did to you.

Before you could think deeper about your situation, your phone pinged with a text.

Outside. Don’t keep me waiting.

You grabbed your handbag and walked into the apartment where your brother was sitting in front of the floor to ceiling windows that made up the entirety of the west wall of the apartment. “I’m going out,” you called and your brother only raised a glass of whiskey in reply, not taking a glance your way as he worked away on his laptop.

He was stressed. He only drank at home when he was stressed. Whatever Aemond had done to make your brother’s night miserable had worked. You wondered what all Aemond had a hand in. He did not seem to be like a regular politician, or really, what you believed politicians should be.

Walking out of the apartment complex, you spotted a black sport’s car parked where the larger black car had been the day prior and you wondered if Aemond had driven himself.

Confirming your suspicions, a silver head got out of the driver’s seat and walked around to the passenger’s side to open the door for you. He was in all black, adorned with silver accents. His long silver hair was pulled into a low bun and his suit jacket was slim fitting. He looked hot. Of course, he always did.

You slipped into the passenger’s side but not without asking, “Where are we going?”

Aemond chuckled, “To make us official,” before shutting the door. You gulped in dread at his meaning of that comment. He slid into the driver’s seat beside you and started to drive. You noticed he was an aggressive, defensive driver, which was on par with everything else about him. “You’re not going to say anything that would indoctrinate me.” You started to sweat, worrying about where you were going. “Not if you want your brother to have a job tomorrow.”

You looked at Aemond this time, “What did you do?”

He chuckled and kept his eye peeled on the road, his large, pointy nose shielding his scar from view. “Rhoynar Industries is looking at a major split if Targ Co. keeps getting intercepted by failed trade legislation.”

You took in a deep breath that filled your lungs soothingly, worrying for your brother. “You’ve got your hands in a lot of different things don't you? It’s not just politics.”

Aemond’s hooded gaze flits over your silky green dress from your collarbone, to your breasts, to your knee at the slit of the fabric. His large, warm hand comes to rest on your bare knee and your hairs stand on end. “By the end of the night, I’m sure they’ll be in you too.”

HIs promise was revolting but for some reason, your body betrayed you and you felt a slight twinge of heat in your core.

He pulled up outside a fancy, five-star restaurant you’ve eaten at with your brother once before on a work dinner. Opening his door and giving his keys to the valet, you wait for him to come around and open the door for you, trying your best to please him and make him look like the perfect gentleman from the very start so maybe tonight, he’d just drop you off and leave you alone. You walk together toward the front of the restaurant, your arm wrapped snugly around his as he gives his last name and a waiter escorts you through the building to a private dining room where you notice some other silver headed people. Aemond pushes your chair as you sink down into it, only to sit beside you. A dark haired man is sitting next to you on your left and he offers his name, “Criston Cole,” before you offer him your own.

He eyes you suspiciously, that is, until Aemond leans forward and addresses him, “Mr. Cole.” It’s cold. Aemond is always cold but this is colder.

Criston’s lips thin, “Aemond.” Not, Mr. Targaryen, Aemond. Something akin to resentment was shared between those two men in their simple words and long stares.

Aemond’s hand snaked around your waist and he leaned in, “Be good,” he warned. You started to sweat.

“Aemond, when can we expect this trade legislation to be resolved?” A brown, curly haired man said from across the table. Smiling between you and Aemond suspiciously, as if he knew something that no one else in the room did.

Aemond straightened, seemingly all eyes were on him, “Roynar Industries is currently under a little….”he chose his word carefully, chuckling softly before he said it, “heat. We are expecting it to be resolved if all goes well tonight.”

Another silver haired man leaned in, resting his elbows on the table, “And what are we banking this on? If all goes well tonight with whom?”

You shifted in your seat, uneasy. “I believe my date’s brother is currently working on that.”

And suddenly, all eyes were on you. Heat pooled in your cheeks. Embarrassed and stunned, unsure what to say. It felt like the members of, what you believe Targ Co, were staring at you for several minutes, waiting. Knowing you’re different and also, the frenemy.

Finally, you procured a thought, “Yes, he’s working hard tonight.” You grabbed your water glass and sipped it slowly, hoping that your simple sentence would be satisfactory.

The silver haired man across the table chuckled, “Your date is the sister to an exec at Rhoynar? Isn’t that a little bit of a conflict of interest for you?”

“I don’t see why that concerns you Daemon.” Aemond’s tone was flat with finality and although the older silver haired man seemed like he would like to go on about this, he decided against it for whatever reason.

Dinner was served. Aemond had ordered for you. Lamb chops with mashed potatoes and green beans. A fancy version of a cheap meal, interesting. You did not eat, too sick with worry. Too worried to do the wrong thing. The group disbanded and said their goodbyes.

While you waited for the valet to bring Aemond’s car, you subconsciously rubbed your arms in the chill. Dorne was naturally a very hot place but the nights were cool. The brisk night air nipped at your exposed skin and suddenly, your arms were draped in Aemond’s coat. His scent surrounded you, his cologne spelled expensive, sharp, sultry, with a hint of cigarette smoke. You muttered a weak, “Thanks,” as he stepped around you and put his hand on your lower back as he guided you toward his car.

Ever the gentleman in public, he opened the door for you, allowing you to slip in gracefully before he walked around and slid in, firing up the loud engine and pulling away from the restaurant.

You had hoped you were good enough that he'd just bring you back home. You had hoped you were on a good date and played him up well, just wanting to go home. You had hoped you answered the questions you got perfectly and he’d let you go home.

But he didn’t.

Aemond pulled along the coast to a secluded area and you felt like you could cry.

Killing the engine, he stared over at you and you gazed down at your shoes. “You did good tonight,” he praised.

“Then let me go home,” you retorted almost angrily if you hadn’t been so scared.

Aemond chuckled and leaned over to you, grabbing the side of your face harshly and forcing you to look at him. You did and saw his eye was blown nearly black with lust, power, control. Barely any blue visible. “Get in the backseat, finish being a good girl and I’ll let you go home.”

You shivered as he released you, getting out of the car and wondering if it would be smart to just make a break for it, sprint as fast as you could down the coast. Could he chase you there? Was he faster than you on sand? You’d have to take off your heels beforehand and Aemond would know something was up then. But if you-

Your thoughts were cut short by him grabbing your forearm, looking down his nose at you, “Run then, run if you like. I like the chase.” Chills ran up your spine and you figured it would be safest to do what he said.

Aemond opened the door and sat in the backseat, pulling you atop him as he spread his legs and forced your legs over his own. He hiked up your dress to your hips unceremoniously and tore your underwear off you, making you gasp at how quickly and desperately he was working. He plunged two of his thick fingers inside you, making you whine in pain as you had not been prepared nor were the least amount of wet. Grasping his shoulders for purchase as he thrusted his digits inside you mercilessly.

“Please,” you begged, “please-gentler.” You knew you couldn’t beg for him to stop, he wouldn’t, but he might be kinder to you.

He purred a dark chuckle from his throat, looking at you through his hooded gaze. “Not my style baby,” pumping a few times even harder, “get used to it or don't. I don’t fucking care.” He leaned forward and sucked in your collarbone, neck, jawline, underneath your ear, and though, he did not ease up on your aching pussy, you did become wetter and wetter, relaxing around his and even pleasure building in your abdomen before he completely pulled out and away from you. His absence nearly made you whine and you immediately wondered what had come over you, whining for this demon’s fingers inside you again.

He pulled his throbbing, hard length with his freehand and pumped himself twice before lining up with your entrance then grasping your hips and forcing yourself down on him. You both moaned in unison once he bottomed out. You both sat in silence as the pair of you adjusted to the other. “Fuck yourself on me,” he demanded huskily, “ride my cock and I might let you come.”

The promise of an orgasm on the best dick you’ve ever taken outweighed the fact that it was attached to a monster and you began to spell your name on his dick, just like your friend in your English 400 course had said. You gripped his shoulders harshly, trying to steady yourself as you felt like everytime you sunk onto him again, you were splitting yourself in two; like a wedge hammering into a firewood. He’d make you burn. You knew it. You felt it in your very being as you left your morals and fears aside, your value and freedom aside, and gave in so quickly to this sadistic fucker. He was going to make you burn in his own, personal ninth circle of the seven hells.

“What a good girl she is,” he cooed, grasping a hip with one hand, beginning to grope your breast and play with your clothed, hardening nipple with his other hand. “Such a good girl for me this time around.”

He thrust up gently against your motions and made you gasp, pushing deeper than you were riding him initially. “Fuck,” you moaned and threw your head back, lost in ecstasy, lost in the fire he was setting upon you, lost on him.

Aemond’s long thumb traveled from your breast, up your throat and crooked into your mouth, hooking on your bottom jaw to harshly pull your head to look at him. “A dirty mouth on her,” he thrust up against your hips, kissing your cervix roughly, making you gasp against his thumb. “Not very lady-like. Not how the future Mrs. Targaryen should act.”

You stop your minstations to look at him, feeling the heat within your abdomen dying quickly, even against the spasms of his cock still inside you. “What?” Then immediately remembering he wanted to marry you, but only if you were pregnant- and you weren’t. He had no hold over you now, at least, none that extreme. “No, no, I’m not marrying you.” You moved to slide off of him but he gripped your hips firmly, feeling his cock bounce in you. “Aemond, what the fuck! I’m not fucking pregnant. This is a one-time thing!”

“I think you need to look at that test a little closer,” he grabs his phone from his dress pants around his thighs and unlocks it, sliding through his photos before clicking on a negative image of the pregnancy test you had taken afternoon before… and there it was, a bright line next to a faded, barely there line.

But how had you missed it?

Aemond clicked his phone off and threw it in the front seat, “I thought I saw another line, though faint,” he began explaining, “research is a wonderful tool to use and it only took a little bit to find that turning an image negative makes faint HcG lines prevalent.”

You felt numb, blank, barely absorbing his words.

“How many days late are you?”

Unless this was another manipulation tactic, not even your own test. Maybe he just grabbed a test from online.

“I asked you a question,” Aemond said more sternly this time, causing you to look at him like a deer in the headlights. “How many days late are you?”

Four. You were four days late. Only four days late…that’s nothing. “Four.”

Aemond nodded and thrust his still hardened cock into you, nearly taking the breath out of you as you had completely forgotten about the foreign object in your body, focusing on another.

Aemond sighed, “I suppose you don’t believe me.” You only looked back into his eyes, blankly, still too stunned to form a word. “I bought you another to convince yourself.”

Another test. A second chance at a negative.

He pushed you off of him and stuffed himself back into his pants unsatisfied and frustrated. Leaning forward into his glove compartment, he grabbed a box and handed it to you.

“Take it,” he ordered sternly and you could only look at him, blankly. “Now.”

“Here?” You were so confused, looking out of the window of the car, suddenly worried about other cars that were not there.

“Go behind the car or something.” He instructed, leaning across you and opening your door, and shoving you out.

You walked, confused and still shocked to the back of the car. Shaking legs carrying you the entire way. You felt numb, but also, your entire body shook with anxiety at what the test would read.

Bending down shamefully, feeling dirty, you urinated on the test strip and just leaned against the back of the car, watching the digital reader dance back and forth as it read your text for two minutes.

Finally….it read.

Pregnant.

Dread pooled in your stomach, sweat procured from every orifice in your body, you felt your legs nearly buckle.

Unsure of what to do, how to process anything, you climb into the backseat again, not taking your eyes off of the test that read your life-sentence.

“Satisfied?” Aemond asked, looking over at the test too and smiling.

“Why me?” Your voice was broken, far away.

“You’re his sister.” He said it simply, as if it made sense.

You looked up at him, glassy eyes with tears threatening to fall. He leaned forward, running a thumb through your pooling tears. “I need a good image. I need a family. A good wife.” Your brow furrowed, wondering why he chose this fucked up way to obtain it. “And your brother is in my way, it’s like a two for one deal for me.” Of course, everything was about him. His family, his wife, his life. Nothing was about anyone else to him. “Just help me bring your brother down and we will live happily-ever-after. I’ll give you everything you could ever want.”

You gulped with trepidation, “I just want to be happy.”

“Then I’ll buy you whatever happiness you need. Just give me what I need. I can’t buy that.” He always spoke as if everything he said made perfect sense, like you were a child and him the adult. “Marry me.”

“I don’t want to.”

Aemond huffed a sinister, frustrated chuckle, “Then you, your entire family and most of all, your brother is ruined. I have my finger on the trigger right now.”

“My mom and dad have nothing to do with this-”

“No but you love them,” he smirked at you, “and that’d hurt you.”

You threw your head back, covering your face with your hands. You wanted to cry, scream, hit him, hit yourself. “What,” dragging your hands slowly from your face, “happens if I say yes?”

Aemond smiled, grabbing one of your hands and bringing it to his pointed lips, kissing softly, “I’ll arrange for a wedding soon.”

You jerked your hand away from his hold, “I never said yes.”

He furrowed his brows, both scarred and untouched, and looked at you as if you were a circus act to amuse him, “Do you really think you have a choice?”

Taglist: @croatianprincess @toodlesxcuddles

As always, if you’d like to be tagged, please comment. Like, comments and Reboost are always appreciated but never necessary!

#fanfic #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #gameofthrones #smut #aemond targaryen #game of thrones #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon aemond #aemond #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #aemond one eye #aemond x you #aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen #dark fic

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coralinnii · 1 year

Note

Hello again!

It’s Anon Frog 🐸

I have some good news! My sister is getting leave before she ships out to Japan!

Anyway I was hoping for a request …… I have long hair and it fun to do styles with it so I thought I’d ask you ….

So reader has long hair and noticed they could make little horn with their hair. Kinda like pig tails but horns????? If that makes sense

Malleus noticed throughout the school day but doesn’t say anything until their late night walk.

They(reader) smiles and tell him that she wanted to try new hairstyles and remember this hairstyle reminded them of him.

Just good feelings for everyone!

Much love Anon Frog 🐸

Matching “horns” MC with the horn hairstyle feat: Malleus genre: fluff note: long haired!reader, reader is referred as Yuu!reader but can be read as not, ambiguous relationship but romantic leaning, insinuation of offspring but not necessarily through pregnancy, roughly 1.1k word count

I really have no excuse for how incredibly long this took to write but this was a cute idea to write and I wanted to try out this hairstyle but I’m not nearly skilled enough. Anyway, anon🐸 I hope you like it and that you and your sister have a great new year!

I know you can go big with this type of hairstyle but I got inspired by Anya’s cute do from Spy x Family. Also (somewhat) in time for Malleus’ birthday so yay!

I might be busier since I’m celebrating the Lunar New Year (which involves a lot of cooking) but happy Lunar New Year to everyone and may this year be lucky and filled with great fortune!

Throughout the day, you’ve gotten comments about your new look. Some were compliments (courtesy of mostly Kalim and Rook), and some were just itching for a hit from you (mainly Ace and Floyd). But even with the straightforwardness of your friends, it didn’t stop your instincts from telling you that someone else is watching you, wanting to tell you something.

And you’d be right.

During lunch, Malleus was watching you from his seat some tables away. Seeing as how he is the only student with horns (not to mention, he finds himself gazing at you a few too many times already), Malleus was quick to notice your new appearance. Two cute “horns” protruding from your head caught his eyes as the rest of your locks curl and frame your beautiful face.

“Malleus, if you stare at the prefect any longer you might burn a hole” Lilia joked as he watched his young prince. A few of the other students quiver at Malleus’ gaze and wondered what great misdeed you must have committed to incur such an intense stare.

“Please Lilia, even I’m aware that humans are not such fragile creatures” Malleus rebutted as he continued his observation. “What do you think was the human’s intentions for such an unique change in appearance?”

Since he noticed your hairstyle, Malleus’ mind was in a tizzy trying to figure out what did you mean to do such a thing? Are you imitating him the same way as Sebek does with his forced interest in coffee? Were you attempting to capture his attention as some sort of human ritual he’s unfamiliar with? He has heard that couples participate in this “matching outfits” as Lilia mentioned in passing. Was he being too hopeful or too presumptuous to believe you are sending him a hint of your intentions?

Oh, how equally captivating and confusing you were.

“In times like this, it is better to confront your confusion than to jump to conclusions, my young lord” as funny as it was, Lilia couldn’t bear to see the young prince in his frazzled mental state (even if he was the only one to see it) any longer.

Such young love, Lilia mused.

Malleus took the older fae’s words to heart and waited by the old Ramshackle dorm to see you. Nights like these became a secret routine between the two of you as you stroll around the dark landscape together.

To his delight, Malleus heard your footsteps as you rushed out the old dorm and towards him.

“Tsunotarou!” You greeted him with a small, with your mini horns still in place. “Were you waiting long?”

Malleus shook his head, a small smile graced his lips. “Not at all, Child of man” if you don’t consider an hour long. He doesn’t. “Shall we start our stroll?”

The night was pleasantly silent and the breeze was light as the two of you walked through the plains, with the occasional small tidbits of your day shared between you two, to which Malleus took as a lead-in to ask the question he’s been curious all day.

“I’ve noticed you’ve changed your typical appearance today” Malleus started off “Is there a particular reason?”

He noticed! You were starting to get nervous over the silence from Malleus about your new hairstyle, worrying that he didn't care or worse, it may come off as mocking towards him.

“I had some extra time this morning and thought about trying this hairstyle,” you explained, smiling as you lightly touch the locks that make your horns. “I reminded me of you and thought it’d be cute if we matched”

You bravely turned to look at the tall man, trying to gauge his reaction to your new look. But Malleus was unreadable to you even as his eyes bore into you, more precisely, your “horns”.

"Does it look good?" you asked but you were starting to worry he didn't.

Thankfully, that wasn't the case at all. In fact, Malleus was trying to pace his heartbeat after listening to your explanation. What a bold human you are in wishing to emulate his horns, a feature that he is aware can be intimidating to many people. And to do it with him in mind, more charming words have not been spoken.

“Such a creative use of one’s hair. It is a fascinating form of style” Malleus let his curiosity take over and asked you, “If you allow it, I would like to touch them”

Relieved, you nodded with a mischievous laugh, “I’ll allow it, but I can’t guarantee what will happen to you if you do”

“What a cheeky human you are.” Malleus chuckled. He reached out to the top of your head and caressed the soft “horns” you carefully crafted, mindful of his fingers so as not to ruin your hard work. The moment was done in comfortable silence as you stood relaxed, trusting yourself under Malleus’ gentleness.

Malleus’ mind began drifting to the days where his horns were small like yours. He recalled Lilia regaling the tales of Malleus’ younger years and as humiliating as that was, he now wondered if his children would have horns like these, so small and adorable.

As the future King, he knew that he would have to sire an heir someday but he never spent a moment to visualize that image. But now, he couldn’t stop himself as he thought how cute his child would be with horns like these, along with other features from you. How cute his offspring would be with your bright eyes or your beautiful hair that you would brush as their parent. Perhaps they would have your laugh as well. In fact, he would be content even if they don't look anything like him, so long as they're your child, and his.

“Tsunotaro?” Your voice broke through his wandering mind. “Are you alright?”

Malleus didn’t realise that he stopped his previous attention to your hair as his mind delved deeper into thought. He also didn’t notice the small growl he emitted under his breath, but you certainly did.

“Yes, I’m alright” he assured you “I was simply lost in thought for a moment”

You believed him since you did see the way he had a faraway look in his green eyes. His gaze was still in the moment but there was a sense of wistfulness as he looked at you, which had you a little flustered.

To ease your embarrassment, you took a step back (though you already missed Malleus’ touch) and smiled your nerves away. “Should we keep going with our walk?”

Malleus agreed, resuming his stroll with you. But his previous thoughts have not left as he grew fond of the idea of children, more specifically children with you. As you shared the events of your day, Malleus was pondering on what he could do to match you as you did.

Perhaps matching rings?

#twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

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dearbraus · 8 months

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Is it Better to Speak or to Die? ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— Lisa Minci

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, dni if you are not sapphic, afab!reader, reader dresses femininely and wears dresses, referred to by gender neutral language but affected by patriarchal norms and gender norms, reader's skin flushes, reader's hair can have fingers thread through it, reader is implied to be a lesbian, Lisa is implied to be a lesbian, side relationship; Lisa and Diluc, Diluc is implied to be gay, compulsory heterosexuality is experienced, homophobia, arranged/forced marriage, emotional affairs, slight age gap (reader is in their early twenties, Lisa is nearly thirty), lost loves, cheating (Lisa and Diluc on each other), implied past Jeanlisa, plot with a smidge of porn, Princess! Lisa is heir to the throne, flirtations, love confessions, angst, hurt with little comfort, making out, scissoring, biting, love as consumption, imagery of cannibalism, desperate sex, reader is implied to lose their virginity, a lot of; jealousy, envy, and misplaced anger, misogyny, men and male characters regarded poorly (including Diluc) in response to sexism and forced relationships, social etiquette, ambiguous threats to life due to treason, House of the Dragon inspired, canon religious beliefs, no happy endings. ⊹ Run time. 22.0k ⊹ Note. This fic is a labour of love, it is my ode to lesbianism, and it is very personal to me. That being said, this is very much an author self-insert fic. The reader is meant to be me, they are meant to encompass my complicated relationship to comphet, lesbianism, and feelings towards men so I suggest you take a very good and long read through the warnings before reading this fic because it is rather heavy in nature despite the few moments of respite. If you do choose to read this I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

❝Brought to court to become the heir to the throne's latest companion, you begin to grapple with the feelings that come with the friendship of a woman like Lisa Minci. There is no halfway with her, it is all consuming or it is nothing—you learn this quickly as you find yourself utterly in love with the princess whose heart belongs to another.❞

There has never been a name for the feeling Lisa found herself so overcome with when around Jean– when with you. She drowns in the terrifying feeling of the unknown, thoughts swirling into a tsunami of confusion when Lisa allows her thoughts to settle on it for too long. It scares her, the feelings that she cannot understand or put a name to, but she speaks soothing words to him as they toe the shores of a cloud shrouded lake– him, Diluc, her future husband. Lisa placates him with delicate words and sympathy when he lays the truth at her feet, his differing tastes. She had known though, they all had. It’s terribly easy to gaze upon another with scrutinizing eyes when the walls whisper tales of longing exchanges shared upon the remnants of Old Mondstadt; the phrase “sword swallower” carelessly thrown around as if it wasn’t a slight against Mondstadt’s uncrowned king.

Lisa knows nothing, in truth, that much she can admit to herself when she and Diluc sit upon their marriage bed and feign their consummation; spilt wine tarnishing the stark white sheets as teary tendrils roll down his pale cheeks. She had cried too, for herself and for him– a rare occurrence for the two of them.

Then, Lisa didn’t understand their tears, not truly. She knew that Diluc shed tears for the love that could never be his, not when he was hers– the future king consort. Was he anguished by the fate he shackled himself to? Or, had he left behind another to make his father proud and restore the Ragnvindr legacy? Lisa didn’t know. The two had known each other for all of forty-eight hours before their engagement was announced and the grande affair that was to be their wedding took place. She supposed it was the latter with the way his body shook so violently as they stood together at the altar. The crushed dreams of boyhood lay amongst their stained sheets, putrid and vile, a reminder that the happy end he was promised the entirety of his childhood was not so easily afforded but rather a wishful dream that he could not quite shake. He mourned for his lover, the man who so gently cradled his heart and himself; Lisa had not understood it in the slightest.

Love and lust were too often confused, muddled together in the mind of someone who had yet to truly experience both. She was unable to discern between the two.

Lisa knew lust, or she believed she did when she thought of the desire that bloomed between her and Henry Morton, her tutor and then once more with Huffman the stable hand. Though it always seemed to fester into something ugly– disappointment and resentment. No love existed between her and those men, not in the way she wished there would be. Henry coveted her wealth, the crown she was destined to wear, and the knowledge she possessed. He was hungry for the throne he was never meant to be seated upon, starved for the knowledge locked within her mind. Huffman sought absolution within her, pious and pathetic and filled with delusions that sex with her was healing. He believed she could wash away a lifetime of sin as if she was more than simply a woman, made of the same earth and ash that he was.

But, there was no love to be found within their embrace or comfort.

She assumed that Diluc and whoever made him weep so were more of the same, two beings joined together and enraptured by the threads of desire.

It is then that she realizes she was wrong, that she is not nearly as knowledgeable as she insists herself to be and it terrifies her. Genius was the word that floated around her since her tender youth; her mind had always been the greatest gift that Celestia had bestowed upon her. Without it, she was nothing. She feels that she is nothing that night as she lays in her marriage bed, trembling and lost in thought. No amount of thinly verily excuses could create enough of a mirage to disguise the glaring insecurities and fears that shake her all the way down to her toes.

If a man can love a man just the same as he loves a woman, could she not too? To love a woman the way a man did, it was easy enough to grapple with before she realized that she did not love men the way a woman was supposed to. Henry Morton and Huffman the stablehand were nothing but toys she used to convince herself that she felt nothing at all for Jean in the days before she was whisked away from court by her husband. Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes as her thoughts ceaselessly plague her idle mind. The hurt she feels when she thinks of Jean suddenly is somehow clarified as if before that very moment Lisa was only granted a short glimpse into her true feelings. Betrayal was true heartbreak, simple affection for her dearest friend something else entirely, the very thing her father believed would blossom between her and her new husband as time went on.

And then she thought of you, a member of the court and her assigned companion— her only true friend now. It’s the lack of feeling she harbours towards Diluc or any man at all that terrifies her and the feeling of far too much for you now that makes her stomach twist in relentless knots the longer she lingers on you.

Her heart stirred, cheeks growing hot despite the brisk evening air that slipped between the cracks of her shuttered window. There was no part of her that would dare entertain an inspection of her feelings for you, too much possibility remained. Where her chapter with Jean stood firmly closed and long buried, yours was open, taunting her the way a predator did its prey. It’s filled with questions and feelings Lisa wasn’t sure she’d ever be strong enough to face, not when yours was the only true company she could relish in while within the stone-cold walls of the castle.

Lisa had lost too much in so little time, she couldn’t bear to lose you too all because she chose to act upon emotions she didn’t fully understand.

It would be far too tragic but she rationalized as needing all the allies she could.

A queen needed numbers; the future is what ruled over her actions, not the thought of being well and truly alone. When morning had come, whatever thoughts that had plagued her throughout the night had long since been gone, and Lisa was ever the picture of a perfect heiress. Well, that’s what she would like to believe, Lisa has never been perfect in any sort of way and she’s reminded of that when low-ranking nobles and courtiers sneer at her like she’s nothing more than the sum of all her mistakes. If her father had been a cruel man and raised a spiteful daughter she might have thought to have them punished, simply for having the gall. For thousands of years, those who came before her did, sometimes just for the hell of it, and she was sure they would for another thousand years after but Lisa wasn’t cruel nor vengeful.

She was, however, aptly skilled in the art of playacting.

Lisa offers you a smile when you come to dress her when the pallid morning light just barely encroaches upon the castle. There’s no trace of worry upon her brow, she’s the vision of radiance, wrapped within the sweet blanket of marital bliss. To the untrained eye, she is perfection in its truest form. She is lucky you possess such a lacking, still green in your young years and sheltered upbringing in the countryside. The air of innocence and naivety that shrouded you comforted the princess.

“Beautiful,” you had whispered in her ear, coming to stand behind Lisa so she could gaze upon her reflection, “Master Diluc shall be overcome when he sees you.”

You had said it as though they had not been wed the night before, as if the cat and mouse game of courtship was not yet over even though it had never truly begun. But Lisa grinned all the same, nodding her head in agreement though she knew it was not her that her husband's eyes would be on. Perhaps they’d be cast upon the floor, or they’d be stuck upon the worried picture that's painted across his parent's face, or maybe they’d follow Kaeya’s lithe figure– plagued with a million different worries that tied his stomach up in knots.

“Thank you, darling,” Lisa passively murmurs, her green eyes hazed as she stares at her reflection, “You may go now.”

Your brows furrow for a moment, “But your sheets …” Pressing your hands to her shoulders, you will her eyes to meet yours through the mirror, “Would you not prefer it if I handled them?”

“You are a highborn noble, it would be highly undignified for a genteel such as yourself to do such a thing.”

Her tone was clipped like you’d done something to ruffle her feathers.

“But, your Grace, you know the serving girls will talk,” You say in a hushed tone, “If they see that your … I understand that the act can be daunting, I mean the two of you are little more than strangers … but they shall not be so.”

Lisa knows exactly who you speak of, the vultures of the court, the ones who wait with bated breath for her fall from grace, “What you’re suggesting … you realize that it is treason?”

“Treason, your Grace? I must confess that I do not understand.”

She almost chuckles at you and she might have if she had been a cruel mistress. You poor, sweet summer child, of course, you would not understand the weight of your words. Lisa wished she could reach out to pet your head, to sit you down and explain. You were still so green, still so naive and blinded by the fairytales your governess promised would be your future, even more so than she could have predicted. She could not do that, she was to be queen someday soon. It would make her weak in the eyes of all who wished for her downfall to show too much kindness. Though it made her heart ache uncomfortably, Lisa fixed her mouth into a straight line as she gazed at you through the mirror.

“To suggest that Diluc and I would shirk our duties to produce heirs for our own selfish desires is treasonous,” she grits, sharpening the only swords she was allowed to bear– her words, “You’d do well to remember that the next time you foolishly question the crown.”

“Your Grace, I did not intend to-”

Lisa holds up her hand to silence your ramblings, “I know, so consider this a warning,” she mutters, “Go on, and take a look at the bed.”

Your brows furrow for a moment as you wander deeper into her bedchambers. Amongst the stark white linens lie a splotch of red. It is evidently not blood, the colour is far too rich and the stench of stale wine wafts through the air. It’s a farce, the product of wishful thinking but it is treachery to question her. It is her word against yours, and the words of an heiress held far greater power than that of a lowly Freiherr’s child. It kills her to use her station in such a heinous manner, it’s written within the carefully crafted mask she wears but still, she does it out of duty; duty to the crown, to her marriage, and to the kingdom of Mondstadt. Pressing your lips together you dip your head into an apologetic bow before shuffling over to the door. It’d be unwise to press further.

“My apologies, your Grace, I shall take my leave and allow you to attend to your duties.”

Your shoulders cave inwards and Lisa can’t help but be filled with remorse, “No apologies needed darling,” she says, beckoning you to come closer to her, “I simply did not wish for you to make such a blunder with another, most are not so forgiving.”

The soft morning light bathes the two of you in a pallid glow, the tears that have welled in your eyes catch in the light when you peer up at Lisa. When you’ve stepped within arm's length, Lisa wraps you up in as tight of an embrace as her large hoop skirt allowed, her chin resting on your head as you buried your face into the crook of her shoulder. You smell of peach blossoms and sunsettias, Lisa finds it intoxicating. She doesn’t mean to but when you furrow further into her skin, Lisa allows herself to inhale deeply, relishing in the sweet fragrant plume of perfume that engulfs your frame.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle against her collarbone, “I did not mean it.”

You sob like a child who has just been scolded. However, it’s not the naivety or a certain lingering childishness that has spurred this weepy display. It is fear. Lisa can feel it, your fear, it's there in the way your heart races and thumps wildly enough for her to feel it through her whale-boned corset. You’re weeping for her, for all the implications that still hang precariously in the air between the two of you. Your bleeding heart makes Lisa feel all the more guilty, her gut tangles itself together. She shouldn’t feel such shame for speaking to you the way she was taught to but she does.

Lisa wishes she could take it back, to soothe you and the ache that seems to plague her whenever you are near. But she cannot turn back the clock and so the feelings she harbours continue to feast on the unknown and morph into a puzzle of labyrinthine complexity. Her head and heart tangle within one another, endlessly.

“I know,” Lisa mutters, her tone clipped, “Don’t cry, sweetling.”

“But-”

“I have said this to prepare you, life at court is nowhere near as idyllic as life in the countryside, you must learn that, quickly.”

The expression you wear tells Lisa you’d much rather be there than here, attending to her but you’ve bitten your tongue and swallowed back the bitter ale she feeds you– you’re trying to learn. It takes you a moment to school your features down into a look of neutrality, tension still lingers between your brows. You’d be easy to break, your foibles laid splayed across your chest and arms. They adorn you like fools gold, glittering and attracting the eye straight toward your Achilles heel. She could fix that, turn you into a mirror image of her in a matter of days if she tried. Lisa decides then that she shall take you under her wing despite the blaring cries for mercy her heart makes.

These feelings, they turn her into a dimwitted chit. She used to be a respectable scholar, a genius to most and for some reason she’d rather be enamoured by the fatuous allure of something shiny.

“I am trying your Grace,” you murmur, straightening out your shoulders and attempting to stand tall before her.

“I know.”

Stepping back, Lisa takes your chin between her gloved thumb and forefinger, “But, there is still so much for you to learn, my sweet summer child.”

She sounds like her mother. The intricate lace of elegance meshes with the stern undercurrent of authority that turns every question into a command. It makes you shrink back into your perch, cheeks warming at the word “child”. The very thought of her seeing you like that, a puerile waif instead of the mature courtesan she expected you to be, made your stomach churn painfully. Pressing your lips firmly together you hold back the petulant whine of defence that threatens to crack your prestige.

“You shall learn from me,” Lisa says, her lips curling up into a smile, “I shall teach how to avoid any number of social blunders and you shall keep me company as you were brought here to.”

Raising one meticulously crafted brow at her, you can’t help but question, “Is that truly what you wish to do?” Your head falls to the side and Lisa’s chest tickles with a thousand butterfly wings, “It is your honeymoon, the start of your married life-”

Clamping your mouth shut you clear your throat. Heat blooms within the apples of your cheeks, and embarrassment fills your gut. Lisa must think you to be airheaded with how quickly you’ve seemed to have forgotten the most important rule of court– never question the crown. Straightening your spine, you hold your chin up in the way your mother taught you to.

“What I meant to say was, I am grateful to you, your Grace,” you say, placing a simple smile onto your lips, “There is so much that I can learn from you, you have my eternal thanks.”

“Good.”

Lisa’s lips, painted a deep crimson, curl into a demure smile. She smooths her thumb along your chin in a silent act of praise. Her vibrant green eyes glimmer with something you interpret as being pride and it makes your lungs painfully constrict from within the confines of your ribcage. You should shift your gaze to the floor, maybe the vanity that sits just to the left of Lisa, they should rest on anything other than her eyes. They shine like a matching set of peridot gems plucked, shined, and shaped just for Lisa to wear. But, you can’t seem to do anything other than helplessly stare at her.

“Next time if you feel unsure allow the other person to continue talking,” Lisa hums, snatching her hand away, “The longer one talks, the more likely they are to accidentally reveal their true intentions.

Seizing the delicate lace parasol from where it sits next to her vanity, Lisa offers you the crook of her elbow.

“Come, I should like some company in the gardens as I break my fast.”

Tentatively slipping your arm into hers, you send her a wary glance, “Should I be … writing this down?”

Lisa laughs like you’re just another court jester whose entire existence revolved around her entertainment, maybe it did. You were starting to feel like one big joke with how Lisa regarded you. This was how she was raised to treat those beneath her station, this you had to remind yourself, it was nothing personal nor was it a testament to your character.

“No my dear,” she hums, “The walls have eyes and ears, it's best not to keep them fed.”

Lisa nearly sports a grimace but it's covered with a mask of duplicity. She believes it is best for you to know nothing more than to be guarded, carrying on as if there weren’t a sword hanging above her head. There were many rules you’d learn over the course of your stay at court, the way whispers travelled was one you’d see for yourself and come to understand without her hand. Ushering you out of her private chambers and into the rest of her shared solar, Lisa hands off her parasol to the knight standing post outside her door, Porthos, you think but you can’t be sure as Lisa greets him with nothing but a short nod of her head.

Diluc sits by his lonesome at the large gold-studded table at the centre of the room. A stack of parchment is spread across the tabletop, a fluffy feathered quill is clasped between his pale fingers as he scribbles onto the sheets. He doesn’t bother to look up from his work as you and Lisa shuffle past him.

“Good morrow, husband,” Lisa mutters as if that were a typically sweet endearment for the newly married to use. There was nothing sweet in the way Lisa regards Diluc, their hackles were raised in defence, shoulders tensed and stiff in the balmy morning light.

“Good morrow, your Grace.”

If Lisa frowns you do not comment on it.

You supposed this was how it was when you married someone you’d known far less than a fortnight. They were little more than strangers, so were you and she, and yet she seemed far more comfortable conversing with you than she did with him. Diluc’s vermillion eyes peer over his shoulder at you. His gaze makes you squirm uncomfortably, his stoic expression reveals nothing and the almost bored look in his eyes makes you wonder if this is why Lisa was so hellbent on teaching you how to properly navigate life at court. Though you could not tell, perhaps this expression was the subtle judgment Lisa wished to shield you from, or he knew. The thought frightened you, but you could not stop yourself from wondering if Diluc had pieced together that you were well aware of their transgressions. Did you wear it on your face, looking aghast and as guilty as he should have? Or, did your knowledge shroud you in a cloud of bitter perfume that stunk up their chambers?

Dipping your head into a bow, you tear your eyes away from Diluc, “Good morrow, your Grace,” you say, attempting to subtly check for Lisa’s approval. She seems pleased that you remembered that he was now the prince consort and not simply a herren, “May Barbatos bless you.”

Lisa grins, a small “Good,” passing her lips as you rise to your full height.

Leaning down to press a kiss on Diluc’s pale cheek, her lipstick leaves a mark, Lisa clasps her hands together, “We shall be breaking our fast in the gardens,” she says in a bored tone, “So, feel free to attend to your ledgers or hand them off to the crowns treasurer if you so please.”

“Shall we dine together this evening?”

“Yes, I shall be all yours this eve,” she hums, “I’ve requested full privacy so we may dine alone during our honeymoon.”

Diluc catches Lisa’s hand, it’s attached to the arm that is still tightly clasped within the crook of your elbow and delicately presses his lips to it. If you had known any better you might have believed the gesture to be romantic, swooning over how darling the intimacy was. The serving girl, Glory, refilled Diluc’s goblet with something sweet with a large grin on her face. Her cheeks were dabbled with a demure pink blush and she looked away when Diluc turned back to his papers. Glory just barely attempts to meet Lisa’s eyes as she dips into a curtsy and flutters away in a fit of barely concealed giggles.

Lisa’s lips flatten into a straight line. She’s noticed too, the way Glory titters like a little girl pouring over the tales of a great romance. There’s a minuscule part of Lisa who wishes she could do the same but she’d learned long ago that they were called fairytales for a reason. The love that existed within a few pretty words was forever a fantasy to placate the broken hearts of women and girls who married too young to men much older than them, for the ones who married strangers, and the ones who lived alone in great stone castles with their babies, not knowing if their children would ever come to know the man they called “father”.

At least Lisa was nearing thirty by the time she’d been made to wed.

Lisa’s gaze cuts like stone as she sets it upon Glory, “Deary, you would not mind reminding the other serving girls, would you?” She asks, “This is a special time in a couple's marriage… and I’d hate for anyone to witness anything untoward.”

Hearing Lisa call Glory the same endearment she’s called you before makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. Bile coats your tongue and you feel yourself about to retch until you catch sight of Lisa’s stern expression. How silly, you think to yourself, getting all worked up when Lisa was merely doing her duty. Sweet words mean nothing from the forked tongue of a dragon whose fire threatens to set the room ablaze if her will is not abided by. She was playing pretend, soothing Glory just enough for her to think she was well-liked by the future queen if only to keep the wool pulled tightly over her eyes.

“Yes,” Glory nods, “I shall make haste and remind them, good day, your Grace.”

Glory’s face turns a garish shade of red. Lisa seemed pleased.

“Yes, good day.”

Lisa’s fingers wiggle languidly as she waves Glory off. Turning back to you, she tightens her grip on your arm, “Come now, darling we too should make haste,” Lisa says, “Before the sun comes out even more, too much sunlight is bad for the complexion you know.”

You nod dumbly in agreement as if you had any idea what she meant by that. Your youth had been spent running amock barefoot in nothing but underclothes during the summers. The children of the servants often joined you, your mother never minded how long you spent in the sun not even when you missed dinners because you were too busy napping on a warm patch of grass. So long as you were happy and safe, there’d be a plate warmed by cooling embers for when you were ready to return to the world of the genteel.

“Hm, I shall have to get you a parasol too. You won’t be able to share mine forever.”

“My family has opened a tab with the seamstress on call,” you mumble, frowning a bit, “So, I suppose you can tell the seamstress which style you would like to have made, and my father will pay it in full.”

You did not understand why it was so imperative that you had one of your own but it was easier to ask your father to pay for useless accessories that your future queen deemed necessary rather than attempting to understand Lisa.

“Nonsense I shall cover the expenses myself, it isn’t much anyhow.”

She whisks you away without another word to her husband. Diluc does not seem to mind, having long since clocked out of the conversation. Porthos follows five paces behind the two of you as you breeze through the castle. You had heard Diluc was not one for idle chatter but you would not have guessed Lisa wasn’t either. From what you’d known of her, she was quite lively in her youth but that was before Jean had been whisked away to Fontaine to marry some ridiculously wealthy nobleman the moment she had turned eighteen. That had been nearly a decade ago, and she had not returned home since her father’s funeral.

Lisa must not have had anyone she should trust the way she trusted Jean. Hopefully, one day she could trust you just the same.

You’re unsure if she truly trusts you after spending nearly every day with her for nearly six moons.

Lisa is a difficult woman to read. Every inch of her is intentional, from the jewels clasped around her neck all the way up to the kind of expression she wears. There is no part of Lisa that is not carefully crafted, she’s endlessly placed on display for all to scrutinize. They pick her apart with their eyes, find some fault along the hem of her dress, and dream up some reason as to why she is not fit to be queen, like it lays within the way her hair curls and falls over her lithe shoulder or amongst the crushed pigments that fill the apples of her cheeks.

Her visage is a constant mirage of neutrality.

Unlike you, she never cringes when the conversation lulls into a wall of thick silence or flinches when boorish men spit filth at her because they believed they knew more than their crown princess, simply because of the cock between their legs. It’s a feat you think when your own mask slips all too easily. In reality, it must have been a lifetime of suppressing every want and desire to pass through her mind. None of what Lisa wished for mattered, not when the greater good of Mondstadt lay in the palm of her hands. You had not learned yet, what true sacrifice was not in the way Lisa knew of it.

Or, of how Jean Gunnhildr knew it.

She married a wealthy man known to most by the name “Varka” when she was just eight and ten. He, to your knowledge, was nearing five and forty. The Gunnhildr clan had suffered loss after loss once they lost their toehold on the trade routes that led to Liyue and Fontaine. Their coffers had been drained in an effort to keep themselves out of debt, they had hoped their luck would turn eventually but they only seemed to sink deeper into despair as months with no income turned into years. They let go of servants, sold jewels, and gave up ancestral land to distant cousins who managed to hold onto some level of prestige even when they received no help from those who lived lavishly in the “family” homes. When there was nothing left to sell, they turned to Jean. She was the eldest unmarried lady left in the family, Barbara was far too young, and Jean held a rather esteemed reputation. It was the logical choice, ripe with all sorts of possibilities. The Pegg family had no money either but still possessed a rather well-respected position in court, though it did not matter much if they did, Seamus lost any claim to it when he absconded his family's name in favour of taking Gunnhildr’s name and wearing their colours, boring their sigils too.

Jean had a pleasing smile, she was smart as a whip, and since the tender age of eight had been the crown princess's most beloved companion. If they could not have the princess, then her friend was more than an adequate consolation. She could have had her pick of any man across Mondstadt and with her family’s connections, the same could have been said for Liyue or Fontaine but when Varka, a man nearly twice her age asked for a hand, neither of her parents found any reason to say no. He held a great deal of connections and was more than happy to shepherd the Gunnhildr back into society's good graces. He was the perfect son-in-law and his pockets were heavy with gold coins. It mattered not if Jean cringed in his presence or that the crown princess heavily disapproved of the match.

Frederica and Seamus did not care for the approval or kinship of the crown when Varka promised to find Jean a spot amongst the Tsarita’s court in Snezhnaya during their courtship. They may not have had the same history as Mondstadt but their wealth superseded it tenfold and that was enough for them to sell their daughter. It mattered not that he had been the highest bidder or even offered a tangible solution to their family's poverty, the prospect of prestige and affluence was far too delicious for them not to take a bite out of. Varka was ripe with possibility, and they wished to feast on all that he could offer without a second thought. They’d tear apart his carcass too while their daughter grieved if it meant restoring the lavish lifestyle they had grown accustomed to. And, they didn’t blink twice when he failed to bring her to Snezhnaya, settling in Fontaine where King Neuvilette only tolerated his presence.

Lisa banished them from court the evening after Jean’s wedding. She had banished Varka too and by extension, Jean too was barred from court and any affiliated social events. Lisa had only been one and twenty, and both her parents were overcome with a bout of illness. She was hurt and without any guidance for the first time in her life. Like all the men who spent each night praying for Barabatos for her downfall and believed she would, Lisa acted on emotion. The tide seemed to turn that day and from then on she had turned into a wall of stone, like an evil witch from a fairytale came alive one night and drained all the jubilance from her body and left her with nothing but melancholy.

In the six months that you’d known her not as heir to the throne or Princess Lisa of House Minci but simply as Lisa, you don’t think her mask had slipped at all. If there was trust, she hid it well. Public loyalty too often meant trouble for those in positions like hers. It wasn’t very fair of her to play favourites either but you think she may have with you. Even if she wore a face of indifference most days.

It must have been rather exhausting to keep appearances up at all hours of the day, endlessly playing a one sided game of chess where the rules switched at the wind's whim. A yawn broke through the thin line you pressed your lips into, the very thought of constantly looking over your shoulder to ensure no slimy rat clung to your coattails. Your eyes roam over the pile of half written letters sprawled about the table before you. You could not focus on writing to your family and the few friends who bothered to keep a correspondence with you when the trail of your thoughts continued to circle back to Lisa.

Two days prior she called upon you to accompany her to the observatory. It was rather modest, lacking most of the embellishments you’d find anywhere else amongst the keep— it was nothing comparable to that which one would find in Sumeru but still, quite the sight to enjoy at nightfall when the skies were clear. She summoned you in the middle of the afternoon when the skies were greyed and out came a great wave of rain that pounded ceaselessly against the glass.

Albedo, the chief alchemist did not linger for long after escorting the two of you into the observatory, hastily advising the two of you not to linger for too long before bolting off to his lab once more. That left the two alone with nary a servant, or nosy courtier to listen in on your conversations for the first time.

Lisa wore an extremely lavish emerald day gown that put whatever the young debutantes were wearing to attract suitors to shame. The gold trim melted into her sun kissed skin and crafted the appearance of a scandalously low neckline. You felt rather underdressed next to her in the breezy pale pink frock you sported but you supposed that most would when in the presence of a princess. Her hair was styled in a simple manner, curled and tucked over one shoulder with a gem encrusted rose shaped barrette to keep the strands pinned in place.

She was effortlessly flawless as usual but where jealousy would bloom over your inadequacies you felt nothing. If there was something it lay buried and twisted within a bed of biting thorns that pricked your skin when you got too close. Lisa was the most radiant woman you ever laid eyes on and the knowledge of that made your stomach unexpectedly leap in your belly.

“This must look spectacular at night!” You marvelled with faux enthusiasm, tucking your hands behind your back as you bounced on the balls of your feet, “Perhaps we can visit again once the stars are visible.”

You took to her lessons well enough, never once complaining though frustration grew to become a familiar friend as you struggled to catch up to the years of etiquette that far surpassed the norms of the country. Lisa nodded thoughtfully as she gazed wistfully at the rain, lost in a memory you presumed. You had taken to trying to decode her expression in search of whatever may have laid beneath but Lisa was far too good.

Quirking her lips into a smile, Lisa suddenly sighed, “Perhaps we should,” she proclaimed, reaching out to gather your gloved hands into hers, “We shall make a night of it if that should please you.”

“It would please me endlessly, your grace,” you said, your cheeks warming as she affectionately clasped your hands, “Though nothing brings me greater joy than your contentment.”

Lisa released a full-bellied laugh, that was the first time she hadn’t attempted to mask her true feelings from you. It made your cheeks burn even hotter as you smiled at the sight of happiness.

Wiping a stay tear that gathered at the corner of her eye, Lisa clutched your chin so you wouldn’t move when she innocently bopped the tip of your nose, “My my, aren’t you just the sweetest darling,” she giggled.

It was a rather belittling gesture when you tried your very best to appear as mature as she was. Though you didn’t find yourself insulted. Your racing heart was far too distracting for you to focus on the mild bruise to your ego. You wished that she would see you as an equal so that one day she may allow you to dispel that wretched mask from her.

The woman that lay beneath it was far too entrancing to be trapped under the surface until her mortal body withered away. If only she allowed you to grow closer, you’d prove to her that you were worthy of such a sight.

The uneven pitter-patter of clomping feet bounding through your solar broke you away from your thoughts.

“The princess requires your presence,” Glory hiccups as she clambers into your chambers, “At once in the gardens!”

Her cheeks are a blotchy red and her skin glistens with perspiration– she must have run all the way over here. Pressing your fingertips to the bottle of the chilled jug of water, you slide it closer to the edge where she hovers.

“Have a drink, we’re in no rush,” you murmur.

Ducking her head down into a hasty bow, Glory wastes no time in filling the spare goblet and gulping down the cool liquid. Water dribbles down her chin to her neck in fine rivulets, your mind briefly flashes to Lisa sitting alone in the garden. The air has gone stale and thick with humidity within the keep, summer has rolled in with a fierce crack of its whip and the pleasant balm of spring has been cast aside, nothing but a distant memory to dream of until it’s come again. Her skin’s grown warm with a golden tinge, and her cheeks are filled with a near-constant flush but it suits her. Strands of her hair have grown lighter too, they edge on blonde but still very much exist within the realms of brown. Would the heat have her act as undignified as it had most others in the country? They ran around in cotton breeches and thin chemise when within the safety of their homes but sometimes uptight fathers and dismayed mothers meddled far more than necessary. Summer was the season of marriage for a reason.

The image of her skin hot and dewy beneath the scorching sun made your mouth go dry. Reaching forward for your hand fan, you flick it open and pray to whoever might listen that your expression does not betray you. If it did, all of those hours with Lisa would have gone to waste.

Squishing your eyes shut you force anyone else to come to mind, Sir Kaeya, or even Master Albedo the castle’s on-call alchemist. As soon as your mind settles on Kaeya– ever the flamboyant presence at court, your thoughts begin to trickle downward to his brother Diluc which leads you right back to the princess.

Glory holds out your parasol, the one Lisa had commissioned, an embarrassed expression sitting on her face as she struggles to refrain from wiping her hand across her chin and neck. She follows five paces behind you as you flutter out of your chambers, perching over your shoulder to see you safely delivered. She must long for Lisa’s praise. They’d fill the aching cavern of loneliness that split Glory open. Godwin left to fight on the front lines of whatever ludicrous ventures the Knights of Favonius cooked up on Lisa’s payroll, using her name and country as an excuse to fuel their need for bloodshed. Ever since they embarked from the northern port for the sandy shores of Natlan, Glory’s been searching for pieces of Godwin wherever she roamed, today it was Lisa, tomorrow it may have been you.

Lisa was a good choice, she could be a stand-in mother, lover, or even the older sister you’d always dreamed of. You were unsure which one you wished her to be, it muddled your mind and made you wish the dandelion wine that flowed endlessly throughout the realm was stronger. Perhaps then, it’d ease your weary mind and put an end to the murky waters that surrounded your feelings for Lisa.

“Your grace.”

Glory’s demure chirp brings your gaze up from the stone pathway of the garden and up to the sun-kissed visage of your future queen. Freckles had begun to bloom along the bridge of her nose and amongst the rosy petals of her cheeks. The warm weather suited Lisa, it made her look more akin to some sort of nymph as she mindlessly thumbed at the sprigs of flowers that surrounded her tea table. Lisa’s eyes slide upwards, across the expanse of your body before settling on your eyes. There was no judgment or malice behind her expression like there was when most ladies of the court allowed their gaze to sweep over another person's body.

“Come, have a seat,” Lisa said, your name hanging sweetly off her lips as she pats the chair nestled beside her, “There is a bit of shade right here.”

Dipping your head downwards, you silently dismiss Glory who scutters away to the solace of the cool stone castle and out from the scorching sun.

“Who dressed you this morning?” Lisa asks, her nose wrinkling upwards.

You shrug your shoulders as you sink into the cushioned metal chair, “I am unsure, I did not catch their name,” you say, your head falling into a confused tilt, “Is there something amiss with my attire?”

“It is seasonally inappropriate, you shall grow ill from the heat if the day were any warmer!”

Lisa’s rouged lips settle into a small frown. Her fingers twitch in her lap as if she were resisting the urge to fuss over you. Glancing away, you clear your throat, “How has your morning been, your grace?”

“Rather droll,” she sighs as her eyes flicker away for a moment before they settle on the cloak clasped around your neck, “Allow me to remove this, I shall remain distracted if I do not.”

Her delicate hands rise from her lap to unclip your cloak, they brush against the exposed skin of your collarbone as she pushes the heavy fabric away from your body. A shiver trickles up your spine and you try to disguise the shudder that tears through you with a small cough. If Lisa has noticed, she says nothing instead focusing on the large emerald necklace that rests against your throat.

“Thank you, your grace.”

Lisa releases a small sound of acknowledgement and nothing more, pouring all of her focus into smoothing out the fabric and delicately folding your cloak over the back of your chair. She watches you from the corner of her eye when you turn your gaze away from her and to the elaborate spread of tea cookies and sandwiches. She is not so inconspicuous that you do not notice her or the frown that slides onto her perfectly painted lips. Lisa seems to want to chastise whoever dressed you for a second time when she notices how thick the fabric of your ensemble is but remains quiet as you comb through the delicacies laid before you.

“There is lemonade,” Lisa pipes up once she is satisfied with how smoothly your cloak lays with nary a wrinkle in sight, “Your favourite, I asked that it be made just as you like it.”

Laying her hands flat atop her lap, Lisa gives you an expectant look. Perhaps, it was hopeful, but you could not be sure with how well she disguises herself, pitching up towering stone walls before you can ever examine her expression long enough to read her. The glass pitcher is cold to the touch, perfectly cubed chunks of ice clink as you raise it to pour into the ornate glass that rests before your plate. The lemonade is fragrant, the sour citrus biting your nostrils as it fills your glass. Lisa’s own glass is empty with no signs of any water or lemonade lingering at the bottom so you fill hers as well.

“You did not,” she begins, a hand reaching out to stop you, “You do not have to serve me.”

Lisa says your name with a sigh before she bows her head in thanks and wraps her nimble fingers around the thick stem, “I do, your grace,” you say with a laugh, “That is what I was brought to court for.”

“I suppose you’re right darling but still, you’re of noble birth and should not serve your own lemonade nor mine.”

Your face grows hot, still, you have much to learn in the ways of appeasing your future queen. If she notices your embarrassment, Lisa chooses not to comment on it as she brings her drink to her lips. Your eyes follow her movement, gaze settling on her plush lips and the way they look wrapped around her glass. You never seemed to tire of imprinting her image to your memory, each day brought a new, rare sight for you to cherish and study when left to your own devices. A bit of the sticky liquid rolls dribbles out of the corner of her mouth, rolling down her chin to the expanse of her neck.

Your hand darts out to catch the remnants of the lemonade before it reaches her bosom and dirties her décolletage. Lisa’s chest stills as you gently brush your knuckle up her neck to her chin. Her cheeks fill with colour and you can feel her swallow. Her mouth presses into a thin line and her brows furrow as you retract your hand, wiping it onto the neatly folded napkin beside your plate.

“You had a bit of lemonade right there,” you say dumbly as if it were to excuse you for touching her without permission.

The princess was married, she’d be your queen sooner than late, and you had no right to touch her as casually as you did. All that was reserved for you, a mere courtesan who’d been tasked with dressing her, was the accidentally brushing of skin when you slid her dress over her chemise or tightened the laces of her corset and nothing more. Anything more was indelicate and improper when she’d expressed no further affection for you. If you’d been her friend then maybe she’d rest her head in your lap or even hold your hand as a sign of goodwill as the two of you spent time together but you were not her friend. You were nothing more to her as she was nothing more to you– two people stitched together for convenience.

Lisa turns her head away from you, a few stray strands of her hair brush across her cheekbone, “Yes,” she mumbles, pressing her bottom lip between her teeth, “Thank you.”

You should apologize for such uncouth behaviour, but your mouth remains hung open with no words daring to come out as she clears her throat. Discomfort trickles up your spine and your mind begins to spiral with horrid images of her scolding you in front of your parents or shaming you before the entire court as she sent you home. Logically you knew that Lisa would never publicly ridicule you, she was far too kind, too lenient at times according to the men of the court, but she may well scold you like a child. She’d be well within her right to and that filled you with a sense of dread. You had worked so hard to appear the ever-composed and mature courtesan that you were not.

“You’re very doting,” Lisa says, turning to you with a small smile, “But, I assure you that I can care for myself in the absence of help.”

She laughs and you laugh too, “As can I,” you say, idly pointing to the glass of lemonade you poured for yourself.

“I suppose you’re correct.”

Clearing her throat, Lisa gestures to the small spread of food before you and her, “You should help yourself.”

You pluck the first sandwich you see, mindlessly plopping it onto your plate at her instruction. Lisa snickers but says nothing at all.

Her skin was soft as satin and far more intriguing than the cucumber sandwich you’ve begun to force yourself to nibble on. You wondered if Diluc had thought the same of her skin if he too felt such an urge to touch it at the more inopportune moments such as when they were dining together with their families or amid council meetings. If he did touch her, how did he touch her? His hands were quite rough from years of military service and sword usage, calloused and scarred. Lisa was unblemished and unweathered, many called her a witch for it but you supposed that was simply how princesses were; perfect. Surely, she wouldn’t like to feel such coarse skin against hers, biting into the delicate flesh of her ribs or hip bones as he held her. Diluc did not deserve to touch her not with such roguish and indelicate hands. In what little you’d seen of the two of them together, it was evident that he was undeserving of such a woman.

Your stomach lurched uncomfortably as the thought passed and you reminded yourself that the princess had allegedly hand-picked her husband herself.

“Refreshing,” you mutter as you swallow the sandwich in an effort to force down the bile that coats your throat, “What precision the cook must have to cut the cucumbers so thin, the knights may well be jealous that they’re in the kitchens and not the battlefields with them.”

Lisa dislikes small talk but this feels appropriate, it's a safe venture that brings a delighted smile to her face, “Oh yes, I rather think that thinly slicing your enemies is a practical battle skill,” She jests, her soft green eyes finally meeting yours, “I suppose I should send Glory to ask around, hm, there may be the second coming of Vennessa in our midsts and we’d never know!”

“Glory should like any endeavour you ask of her, so long it is you that asks it.”

Her brows raise with intrigue, “Oh? Why is that, and speak plainly.”

“She holds you in the highest esteem, your grace,” you say with a slight shrug of your shoulders, “As do we all. I rather think you are the most beloved lady in all of the realm and for good reason too.”

“Yes but you seemed to suggest her dutiful dispositions extend far past how high my station is,” Lisa smirks, “Do you have your ear to the ground and know something more, darling?”

In the days before she was the heir and was simply the young princess, Lisa loved nothing more than to research. Her mind craved knowledge and it did not matter if it was academic or simply gossip, she had to know what you knew and then some. The days of her youth were spent more often in the comforting confines of the castle's rather lush library than anywhere else. Lisa would not allow you to wriggle your way out of this comment, no matter how empty you’d claim it was.

Curling your fingers around the stem of your glass you took a sip of your lemonade. It was rather sweet but still tart enough for your lips to pucker at the taste, the perfect balance that made this your favourite beverage, “I do not have my ear to the ground as you said it was improper for any lord, lady, or courtesan to engage in gossips,” You reply with a haughty grin, “Unless of course, you’ve changed your mind?”

Lisa’s thumb and forefinger grab your chin, pointing it downwards so you are forced to look into her eyes. Your chest tightened and you had to remind yourself to suck down a large gulp of hair before you forget to breathe entirely. Her face grew closer to yours, close enough for her breath to fan across your face for a moment.

“You think you’re so clever,” she whispers, “You must tell me, I am to be your queen.”

It was not a card Lisa liked to play often, she found it rather repulsive to use one's station for their own gain but as curiosity lapped at her belly and urged her to question you, her tongue slipped. It meant nothing, it was not as though she’d torture the information out of you, you would not be questioned sharply but her gaze simmered with a fire that made it hard for you to resist her whims. Even without such a strong expression pinning you into your seat, perhaps you’d be destined to spill because her touch electrified you and left you with no choice but to try and please her.

“Glory looks up to you, quite a bit I must confess,” you state, swallowing thickly, “I’ve heard no rumours but with the way she looks at you, as if you hung the moon and the stars … I gather that she wishes to please you, that she enjoys your praise far more than a serving girl should.”

The Cheshire grin that forces Lisa’s mouth to curl upwards steals the breath from your lungs. She looks rather divine like this, like a true queen. A part of you wishes you could see this side of her more often but you spent your days far removed from the kingdom's high council. This side of her was reserved for the men that doubted her and you could hardly believe that they thought her incapable when she was such a force to be reckoned with.

Though, you may have just been a weakling with no resolve.

“I see,” she says, her eyes growing lidded, “Well, I suppose if it means better service then why should I break the poor girl's heart.”

“Do you do that often?”

The question slips without you meaning for it.

“Break hearts?” Lisa echoes, her head cocking to the side, “Oh of course I have darling, are you kidding?”

Your heart leaps in your chest.

You’re unsure if it's excitement or dread, “A princess has to always be careful, always on guard,” Lisa states, still firmly holding your chin, “I’ve turned down as many suitors as I have military endeavours.”

“That makes sense,” you utter in a rather small voice, “You’ve hung the moon and the stars, I too should feel my heart ache should you ever dare to reject me.”

Lisa releases you quickly, as if you’ve said something to shock her or perhaps she’s just realized what a compromising position the two of you were in.

“You’re very sweet darling,” she says as she grabs a macaron and takes a small bite from it.

Her hand covers her mouth as she chews, hiding her visage from you. It's tactful, that much you’ve gathered but you’re too busy missing the way her warm skin felt upon yours to ruminate on its meaning for long.

The next, large, sip you take of your drink is much needed. The cool liquid squashes the flames that threaten to set your mind ablaze with inappropriate thoughts about Lisa. Pressing the perspired glass to your warm cheek, you focus your attention on the myriad of flowers that surround the two of you.

“A virtue I’m sure will reward you on the marriage mart.”

It takes all of your willpower to suppress the frown of displeasure that wishes to cross your lips. It was not often that Lisa brought up marriage, courting, or anything pertaining to relationships. Conversations of that nature always seemed to lead back to her and her predicament or what others would call her marriage.

You too disliked it, the prospect of imagining what sort of fate may befall you or what sort of bargain may be struck up for your hand now that you held such a precarious position, so close to the princess. It made the fight for your hand far more lucrative, the price much higher than it would have been had you remained in your simple life at your family's estate. The thought made you feel ill at ease as if it had all been some ploy by your father to receive an offer that was far greater than your dowry could ever afford.

“If you say so, your grace,” you say, attempting to keep your expression neutral, “You know far more of the marriage mart than I.”

Lisa did that all too often. She let you close and offered you a glimpse into her world whether she meant to or not. Your presence was unbidden as she could not help but allow colour to spill past the dulled shades of grey she masked herself with when she grew docile, more comfortable than she’d wish to be only to shut you out with a comment she knew would make your skin crawl. The good mood and banter effectively severed at the neck before too many of her softest spots were revealed to you.

“I do say so,” She hums, adding a few sweets to your plate once she’s finished with her macaron.

It dangles in the air, unspoken because it needs not to be uttered. You know just as well what she refrains from saying and she bites her tongue because you know. It begins to feel empty, the threat that sits heavily between the two of you. Half the court would have had their tongues flayed or slayed with their heads displayed on spikes near the gate of the castle if all acts of treason were punished to the highest extent like she’d have you believe.

“I do say so, to question my word is treasonous.”

“Perhaps my match shall be half as fruitful as yours, your grace,” you murmured against your better judgment, “If perhaps you were to arrange it instead of mother and father?”

They’d be proud of you for the suggestion even if it was underlaid with a snarky bite. Her shackles rise at the mention of her marriage. Guilt laps at your throat like the claws of a desperate animal backed into a corner. The look of hurt that flashes through her eyes is as sharp as the edge of a knife to your throat. She’s pressed it to the soft of your neck and allowed your skin to prickle open. You bleed a sticky scarlet and it spills onto the table before Lisa. She can see it, the way it stains your face and the innocent daffodil yellow of your frock like sloshed wine. You understand now why she doesn’t often pay mind to court gossip even when it is pure treachery. The way she wears disappointment scars far deeper than any blade ever could.

“Perhaps it shall be if you are blessed by the Gods,” Lisa says with a smile, it's a robotic and routine reflex, like she’s nothing but a pliant pup who’s learnt to dance on command, “With my help, you will be but then you shall be blessed by me.”

To be blessed by a queen, by her– it was a far tangible proof that the Gods looked kindly upon you rather than waiting and hoping for some sort of divine intervention from them.

Picking at the raspberry tart on your plate, you frown, “Though, I’m unsure that I should like to marry,” peering at her from the corner of your eye, you sink the prongs into the softer, buttery pastry, “None of the men at court are particularly interesting and the men of the country are too boorish.”

“It’s unbecoming to be overly critical of others.”

Lisa was never one to mince her words it seemed.

Her honesty was refreshing most days but now your cheeks burned in mortification, “Is it being overly critical if I am simply making an observation?” You asked, “It is no fault of their own that they are so very boring. Men do not have to be interesting to be an eligible bachelor they simply have to have very full coiffeurs.”

You jab your fork into your plate with more force than you intended to. The crust crumbles into smaller pieces and the dollop of whipped cream begins to mingle with the deep magenta custard, leaving a lump mess out of the once meticulously crafted dessert.

“It is just a fact, your grace. Is it so wrong to be picky about which man I shall be shackled to for the rest of my days?”

Scooping up a bit of the raspberry custard, you lift your fork to your mouth. The burst of tangy sweetness you were expecting to dabble on your tongue never came, instead, you felt three slender fingers envelop your wrist. Lisa had brought the fork to her lips and swallowed the bite you’d prepared for yourself. Her tongue poked out to lap up the bit of cream that smeared across her cupid’s bow. Your eyes settle into a stony, fixed stare as you watch her hum in contentment.

“You were playing with your food, darling,” Lisa chirped as if it should have been obvious, “I was simply demonstrating what you’re meant to do with it.”

You’d be insulted at the insinuation should anyone else have made it. The teasing undercurrent to her words was not lost on you, though it stirred a deep confusion. An incoming tide of sudden playfulness washed away her dismay within the blink of an eye. It must have been something you said but the ignorance was anything but blissful. Furrowing your brows, you watch as Lisa sinks into the back of her chair, slouching a bit.

“I see,” you mutter, pushing your plate toward her, “Well do continue with your so-called lesson in etiquette.”

Lisa shakes her head, her curls bounce with the movement and you’re struck with awe for a moment as you watch. She was truly a vision to behold and though your stomach was filled with an uncomfortable flutter you could at least admit to yourself that Lisa Minci was the most beautiful woman you ever had the good fortune to lay your eyes upon.

“I do believe I’ve had just enough sweets to rid my tongue of the bitter taste on it,” Lisa hums, resting her interlocked hands upon her midriff.

“Bitter taste?”

Her lips curl upwards in a devilish manner, “Oh yes, you see whenever the thought of boring men as you put it, crosses my mind a rather acidic taste seems to coat my tongue.”

A small giggle escapes your lips and soon Lisa joins in with a laugh of her own. You’ve never heard her truly laugh before. All you had been afforded were forced titters behind a demure hand whenever a lord of the court decided to play the role of the jester. They were missing out. They may have thought that they possessed all the rarest riches of the land but in truth, only you had. You tried to commit the sound to memory, to memorize the way her cheeks filled with coloured and her eyes squished shut as her grin grew wider but a fleeting thought bristled through you, and with it came the bitter burn of jealousy. What if she laughed like this with her husband, Diluc? He was a rather stoic man, not one for conversation unless it suited him but behind closed doors with his wife, he could have been different.

Was there a side of Diluc that only Lisa was privy to? Did Lisa show Diluc parts of her that she wouldn’t show you?

You could feel your skin turning green with envy whereas hers glowed pink with delight. Lisa caught sight of your tense expression and pressed her lips together to suppress the lingering traces of laughter that made her cheeks ache, “Do not worry my sweetling, you shall remain interesting forever.”

“Will I?” Your voice was painfully small, fitting for how utterly defenceless you felt.

“But of course,” she proclaimed, her fingers digging into the pleats of her skirt as she leaned toward you, “So long as you do not allow your husband to taint you with his ailment.”

Something vile curled at the back of your throat. It urged you to say something uncouth, something that would put an end to this conversation and bring forth another wave of disappointment. Gripping the sides of your chair, you suck in a shaky breath.

“Is the Prince Consort afflicted with such a dastardly ailment?” You cautiously ask instead, your voice unsteady. You couldn’t bring yourself to say his name, “Is that why you prefer to spend your free hours with me?”

The blush that blossoms upon the apples of Lisa’s cheeks is far darker than it had previously been. You wonder if she’s ashamed or if she’s embarrassed that you even asked such a thing, “Can you keep a secret?” she lowered her voice, whispering your name in a conspiratory manner. You nod your head against your better judgement, your curiosity far stronger than your resolve to keep Lisa’s marriage far from the confines of your mind, “Well in truth yes, Diluc is a rather boring man and he is always so serious.”

“Are those not admirable qualities for a consort to possess?”

“They are indeed,” Lisa murmurs, her eyes awfully watery as she trains them upon your face, “But they aren’t what I wished for in a husband, in truth, Diluc is not who I would have chosen for myself.”

It would be selfish for you to ask what kind of person Lisa would have envisioned for herself but the urge is overwhelming, “Then who?” You ask in a desperate tone of voice, her face has grown closer to yours. You can feel the warm fan of her breath across your cheeks and along the tip of your nose, “What sort of man did you envision for yourself.”

Your chest tensed and a prickling sensation gathered between your ribcage as if a long, thin blade was pressed against your flesh– ready to slice and flay before you’d even taken your last breath.

Lisa remains silent, her pink blushed lips pressed into a firm line. You shouldn’t have asked, it was foolish and would only result in even more complicated feelings that stung too painfully to begin to dissect further. Her hand rises to brush a strand of your hair away from your eyes, her calloused fingertips brush against the flushed skin of your cheekbone. The green of her eyes looks even more striking when they are closer to your own, there are flecks of blue right near the centre of her iris that you’d never noticed before. With the summer sun, freckles had begun to sprout amongst the few beauty marks that graced her skin. Even more questions filled your mind, like why a princess's hands were calloused when they were supposed to be smooth and delicate, without blemish like all the bards have sung but Lisa had lived a thousand lives before you and she’d live a thousand more without you. You were just another beef-witted courtesan that would pass through her court, one she was burdened with modelling into a sensible member of society. You had no right to demand entrance into her past chapters.

“I never envisioned a man would rule by my side when I became queen.”

The admission is no louder than the soft rustle of leaves when a gentle breeze filters through them. Lisa wears shame beautifully. If you weren’t paying close enough attention, you’d miss the way her lips wobble in embarrassment, her hands trembling for a moment before she steadies them. Her mask has crumbled and she’s laid bare before you but her words are purposeful. Prying ears would gain nothing insightful, they’d assume Lisa is high in her instep, an arrogant wench who thought she was above tradition and smart enough to rule a kingdom all on her home. She was but even the most pious scholar would never admit it out loud. But you, you see it, the double meaning that is thoughtfully interwoven with her statement.

Lisa did not want a husband.

Your jaw falls slack, your mouth turns into an “o” shape as you search for something sensible to say to such an admission. There is nothing you could say that would spare either of you the torment that embedded itself within your chests.

Her fingertips trail against your cheek to your jaw, gently pressing your mouth shut before she cups your face in the palm of her hand. The perfume that has melted into her skin is just barely noticeable but you can smell the fragrant notes of cecilia’s and valberries. You can almost taste the raspberry custard that you’re sure lingers upon her tongue and lips, if only you could angle your face closer to hers and then you wouldn’t have to wonder. Lisa moved before you could ruminate any further, in one swift movement she had gone from a hair’s breadth away to close enough for her lips to graze against yours. They linger there for a moment, just a whisper amongst a sea of shouts before she has pressed her mouth firmly against yours.

Her kiss isn’t greedy like you assumed kisses to be. There is no expectation of something more wrapped within it but you wish there was because it may have soothed the mind-numbing flames that followed the feeling of her bare skin on yours. Something heavy settled low within your belly, it was dizzying but thrilling all the same. Fear should have dawdled somewhere in the mix of emotions that made your heart leap all the way up your throat, but it didn’t. Your skin should have run cold but you burned so deeply that it was incomparable to the muggy summer heat that kept your skin sticky beneath the heavy woollen frock you wore. In the six months you had known Lisa, this very thing plagued your mind when you lay alone in bed and followed you into your slumber even when you tried to will yourself into a dreamless sleep.

It unleashes a type of hunger that you had never known though her lips only remain pressed to yours for a few short seconds– it felt much longer, but you’re left starved for something that no array of decadent sweets could satiate. Lisa’s eyes look strangely darker when they flutter open, her face garishly pink but still utterly kissable despite the shock that seems to mar her features. Your chest heaves in time with her, a myriad of deep breaths used to chase away the impending conversation.

“I must go!” You blurt between gasps, quickly tilting your face towards the sun to disguise your expression, “The hour has run late and I just remembered I was to write to my mother before the day's end!”

The sun had just barely begun to shift from its spot in the centre of the crystalline blue sky but Lisa took your excuse with grace, mechanically bobbing her head in agreement, “Oh yes, I have duties I too must attend to,” she breathed, clasping her hands together as you rose from your seat, “I am sure that my husband, Diluc, must require my presence too.”

You thoughtless nod as your trembling fingers grasp for the emerald necklace clasped around the base of your neck. Pressing your fingers against your décolletage, you will your heart to rest. It thrums wildly and you can hear each erratic beat with each inhale. You hope that Lisa couldn’t hear it, that the sound of flapping bird wings and splashing water in the distance was enough to muffle your pathetic reaction. The chair screeches against the tiled ground as you push out from your seat, falling over as you stumble away from the table.

The stifling air is no comparison to the hellish flames that nip at your heels as you walk away from the garden without a spared glance toward Lisa. You couldn’t look at her or bear witness to the look of utter devastation that painted her face. When your feet reach the sleek hardwood floors of the castle, you stop running. The hallway you found yourself in was empty, devoid of the usual hustle that you still hadn’t become accustomed to but you chose to relish the oddity. You tuck yourself into the first corner you find, your knees buckling beneath you until you’ve begun to slide down the wall and plop onto the ground with a small huff.

A bead of sweat rolls down your neck and another dribbles into the space between your breasts. When you go to pat yourself dry, you notice that in your haste you had forgotten your cloak on the back of your chair in the garden. You supposed now it lay carelessly on the ground amongst the bugs. It was a rather lavish cloak, one Lisa had made for you when she realized you were sorely lacking seasonally appropriate clothing.

Oh, you were in such trouble.

Lisa does not call upon you for nearly two months.

Summer rolls through Mondstadt with a startling quickness but the chill that permeates the air is welcomed by you. Now that the social season has come to an end, your parents were more receptive to the idea of you returning home for a short visit. Without Lisa’s constant presence life at court is stagnant. For two months your days are spent alone. Lords and ladies do not find there is a need to converse with you when you no longer follow Lisa like a shadow and your listless figure floating through the halls is haunting.

Though, it is not half as haunting as the glimpses you catch of her.

It is torturous to be resigned to simply stealing an eyeful of her passing figure or a whiff of her perfume after she’s left a room. Strangely, half a year felt closer to a lifetime than it did a minuscule increment of time. But, Lisa did not wish to see you, that much was clear with how scarce she’d become. You’d have to be satisfied with chasing the train of her silk dresses like everyone else.

The library becomes a respite. Its walls are sparse from any life other than your own and that becomes a comfort on the days when it is difficult to put Lisa out of your mind. Tall tales of knights wooing princesses could only occupy your thoughts for so long and the privacy offered by the ancient, towering shelves meant you could weep to your heart's content without the prying eyes of the court scrutinizing you. The lush carpets and the soft velvety cushions that were littered around the space were what called you back to the library on the days when your heart felt a little bit lighter. However, it was never as soothing as you wished for it to be because it was never long before you wondered which books were Lisa’s favourites.

This was her home, the very place she had taken her first breath and would be the place where she took her last. It was filled with pieces of her that you couldn’t ignore no matter how you tried. From the portraits detailing her youth hung along the walls to the flowers printed into runners that led to the main hall, you were surrounded by everything that made Lisa who she was and to deny the joy that filled your heart just the same as anguish was a cruelty that even you could not commit.

And, in the end whoever Lisa was behind a lifetime of carefully poised hands and masterfully crafted curls would remain sealed away for another to uncover.

The soft call of your name breaks you from your thoughts, “Her grace calls upon you,” they said, their voice wavering, “She wishes for you to attend to her chambers at once.”

Turning away from the trunk you were peering into, you come face to face with Barbara Gunnhildr. Pegg, she was now Barbara Pegg. Word had it that the girl's father’s parents took her into their care sometime during the month of June. She now bore their family name and had begun to flutter around the court like a ghost of years past. Amid etiquette lessons and academic studies, Barbara often spent her days attending to the church with her family. She was a waif of a girl with bouncy curls spun from gold, dressed in a blue so pale it’d be mistaken for white by most. It was befitting for the aura of innocence that surrounded her. She was a sweet girl, far more näive than you had been when you first came to court and there was something worrying in the way her weaknesses were on display. With Lisa withdrawn and hidden away in her solar most days, there wasn’t anyone with enough power to ensure that her sister's fate wouldn’t befall her.

“Glory, do continue packing my clothing,” you instruct as you straighten your shoulders, “Thank you, Barbara, I shall visit her at once.”

Her head dips into a prim bow as she scampers away with a small smile, satisfied with her work. Your gaze glides over to where Glory is elbow-deep in your armoire, she’s humming to herself seeming all too content to run her fingers over the fine fabrics. She must be imagining what it would be like to wear one of them but just like the dreams you had of Lisa every night since that day in the garden, those thoughts were nothing more than a fleeting fantasy to plague your idle mind.

The walk to Lisa’s shared apartments with Diluc is solemn. Your chin remains titled high as you saunter through the halls, only stopping to greet those whose station ranks above yours. They don’t seem to recognize the aura of dread that prowls alongside you, their spirits are tinged with merriment since the well-loved Weinlesefest grew near. None seemed too bothered by the absence of their heir around the court. But, you bite your tongue and allow no trace of ill content to show on your expression.

Lisa’s door was imposing much like her. The gold crusted knocker that lay in the middle of the wood was meticulously crafted into the shape of a rose. Two twisted thorn-covered vines looped together and met in the middle. The signs of age wore around the handle of the knocker, revealing the darker metal beneath the brush of gold. Before you could raise your hand and wrap your nimble fingers around the knocker, the door swung open. Diluc stood tall in the entryway. He was quite the dignified man, even when dressed down in a part of charcoal coloured breeches and a loose white blouse. His hands were stained with ink blotches and his ruby red eyes were ringed by a deep plum that gave away all the sleepless nights that were the centre of this week's round of gossip. The laces of his blouse were loose and revealed a spattering of crimson hair that covered his broad chest and pale skin.

Many ladies and some lords of the court fawned over the king consort to be, his name a constant on their tongue. They found him to be the most comely man to ever grace the kingdom, even more so than his charming younger brother Kaeya. As you peered at him in the low light, you tried to see just what captured the interest of so many but you felt nothing.

“Your grace,” you mutter hastily as you dip into a messy courtesy, “Good evening.”

Diluc’s eyes settle upon your face but he doesn’t see you. He looks right through you, hardly lifting the corners of his mouth as he greets you, “Good evening,” he murmurs in disinterest, “Lisa is waiting for you in her chambers.”

He silently slips by you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his breeches as he drags his slippered feet along the floor. The door remained open, orangey candlelight spilling into the hall. The solar is dimly lit, a sparse few candles and the central fireplace illuminate the space. Despite the chill that rattles your bones, the atmosphere appears rather welcoming. The floorboards creek beneath your feet as you enter the room. Your breath catches in your throat as you grow closer to Lisa’s chambers. It’s eerily quiet. Pressing your ear to the door is a fruitless endeavour. The only sign of life inhibiting the space is the glow of light that bleeds from the cracks.

“Your Grace?” You call, your knuckles gently wrapping the wood, “You called for me?”

Her voice is muffled when she responds with a meek, “Come in.”

Popping your head into the small space between the door and the frame, you peer into her room. Lisa stands in front of her large, four-post bed. She’s donned in a thin, wispy nightgown. Though the evenings have grown colder, the castle remains muggy well into the night. Most of her arms are exposed, and so is her collarbone. Lisa’s tanned skin looks like molten gold when bathed in the warm, fiery candlelight.

The door clicks closed behind you as you slip further into her space. You feel over-dressed in your evening wear. Kaeya summoned you for a private dinner to discuss the upcoming festivities. He hoped you may have been able to sway Lisa’s opinion on some matter. The moment you returned to your chambers to continue packing your things, your conversation with Kaeya was entirely forgotten. You do remember how worried you’d been when he called upon you, having spent three hours with Glory trying to decide what to wear and how to style your hair. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in your appearance and now you felt rather silly, still sporting such extravagant clothing.

Lisa had gifted them to you.

“Your Grace?” You called, “Barbara said you wished to see me?”

She remained where she stood, with her back turned to you, “Yes, I did,” Lisa said, pressing her hands to her lower stomach, “I heard you shall be returning to the country soon.”

“Yes, in three days time.”

Lisa hums beneath her breath before shuffling over to the corner of her room. Her heeled slippers click with each footstep she takes, “I see, well you cannot return to the country without this,” she says, “The weather is getting colder and it would certainly be a shame if you went without it.”

Your cloak is clutched between Lisa’s trembling hands. When she turns around to face you, your heart drops into your stomach. Her eyes, always so expressive, shone wetly in the low light and her bottom lip quivered. You’d never seen such sorrow peel across her pretty face. She stood frozen in place like she’d be plucked from the confines of a canvas and dropped before you. Shame coiled around your belly and squeezed it uncomfortable tight. To think of her as some sort of masterpiece when she was wrought with such sadness, and sorrow that was crafted by your hands.

“Your Grace, are you alright?” You ask, taking a tentative step forward.

A sob is wrenched from Lisa’s lips, it’s harrowing and you can feel your heart snapping into a thousand pieces as she stumbles back and tucks herself against the side of her bed. You reach your hand out toward her but think better of it. Her cheeks are blotchy and tears have begun to fall in streaks against him against her will.

“You are leaving because of me,” Lisa hisses, clutching your cloak to her chest, “I have done it again, I have made a mess again.”

You shook your head in confusion, “I do not understand,” you cried, curling your fist against your chest, “I swear to you, your grace you have done nothing wrong.”

She hadn’t. Hiding herself away like a damsel locked away in some ivory tower was no fault of hers. You ran from her when she laid her mask aside and stood bare before her. You continued to bury your feelings so far down in the soil of that garden, you were unsure if you’d ever be able to unearth them once more.

“Without you, I am so very lonely.”

The blunt edge of your nail digs into the supple flesh of your collarbone. Your confession does little to relieve the bone-crushing weight of remorse that squeezes the air out from within you but your tongue refuses to wag and spill any more secrets.

“Do not lie to me,” she whispers with a shake of her hair. Her wavy brown hair cascades around her shoulders, it’s the first time you’ve seen her without her hair meticulously styled. It makes her look even more defenceless than she is, “If there is one thing you should have learned from me is that you shall never lie to me.”

“Because it is treason?” It’s a stupidly sarcastic question to ask but you need to see her smile. The wet, half-hearted laugh she lets out is not nearly enough but it makes some of the tension gathered at your shoulders melt away.

Lisa’s brows push together, her eyes softening for a moment. Her expression is endearing and it placates the skittish animal inside of you, the one that begs you to run with your tail between your legs because nothing good can come from this. But, how can it not? How can nothing good come from Lisa Minci, she cradled the sun in the palm of her hands, she was crafted from all that was kind and gentle in this world.

She nods, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner, “Well yes, I suppose that is true,” she swallows, her shoulders bowing inward as she shudders, “But you mustn’t lie to me for I cannot handle another heartbreak. So, speak plainly here and now, your words shall not leave this chamber, I promise you.”

“You did not call on me for two months,” you spit with a shake of your head, “I felt discarded and unwanted at court and I was so very lonely I could no longer bear it!”

Your eyes dart back and forth between Lisa’s eyes and her expression, searching for something within them. You came back with nothing more than an abundance of shared guilt that began to pool at both of your ankles.

“But it was no fault of my own, it was torture by my design and mine alone.”

“I do not understand,” Lisa shook her head in confusion, she hated not understanding.

But, when you spoke in cryptic tongues, your own frustrations boiling over how could she understand? Too many words remained unspoken, they hung in the air like taunting fingers just waiting for the right moment to jab at your soft spots.

“You were vulnerable with me and we …” Your voice trails off, your cheeks burning even hotter than the still crackling fire in the corner of Lisa’s chamber, “And then I ran from you, like a child and I ruined everything between us.”

“You have ruined nothing, darling.”

Lisa’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she deeply inhaled. Your heart skipped a beat, “darling”. For a moment you could pretend that this was some sort of clandestine affair rather than what it truly was.

“I did,” you murmured, “You couldn’t stand to look at me for two months!”

“I kissed you.”

Your breath catches and a raggedy cough escapes you. The very thing neither of you had been brave enough to say out loud or think upon for longer than a few short seconds before you forced your thoughts to settle onto something less terrifying. Of course, Lisa was brave enough to say it out loud, to give life to the moment that you desperately tried to bury away like a rotted corpse. Lisa had a strength that you don’t think you’d ever be able to possess, she was born with it but her parents fostered it. All good and just leaders had to be strong, but never would the king and queen think that their daughter was using all that they’d taught her to confront matters of the heart. Though, could they be categorized as such, if these feelings were meant to be reserved for men?

Your mother once said that temptations of the flesh manifested in many different ways.

Any man or woman could tempt a chaste and pure, well-bred genteel into laying in the pit of vipers because all were powerless to the taste of flesh. You had never known such a thing, your youth was sheltered and the only person your heart and body ever craved was Lisa. But it was wrong of you to think of her in such an impure manner. She was married, she was to be the queen, and she was a woman. Lisa was the person farthest from your grasp and yet your greedy fingers still reached for her coattails. Running to the country allowed for all of these feelings to wash away with the morning tide. You’d be clean once more and maybe next summer you’d be wed and enraptured in marital bliss.

The longer you remained here, the more complicated this web of strangeness grew. You felt lost and tangled within a never-ending maze of emotion and escape sounded too enticing. Lisa had done it, she escaped you before you had been ready for it, now it should have been your turn.

Lisa kissed you and you could not dwell any longer within her chamber because if you did, you’d kiss her.

It was a need, you needed to kiss her. A part of you wished to be brave like her even if it was just a crude imitation of the real thing but your mother's words and your fears of alienation crept along the back of your neck and whispered vile threats against the shell of your ear.

“You kissed me.”

“And then you ran,” Lisa sniffled, a sad smile playing on her lips, “Away from me, how could I have called upon you when you made your feelings quite clear that day.”

Clutching your cloak against her chest, Lisa nuzzles her nose into the furry collar. A few tears drip down the slope of her cheeks and stain the fabric darkly, “Yes, I ran but it is not because of you,” the heavy material of your dress uncomfortably compressed your chest, making it difficult to breathe, “I ran because I was afraid of much more I wanted from you.”

Her mouth echoes your words but no sound comes out.

“Even now as we stand here, I want more than just a kiss but I can never have it.”

“And why not?” Lisa blurted, “Why can I not give you all that you desire?”

Your cloak drops from her hands to the floor without a second thought. Lisa straightened her shoulders, pressing herself back into the mould of a woman she used to wear so well. It wasn’t because she needed to posture herself as someone she was not but because it stirred a confidence in her that could not be broken once she had it clasped within her hands– its rightful place.

“Who shall stop us? I am the heir to the throne.”

You want to laugh and to tell Lisa that she cannot simply flout her duties and use her title like a tyrant when it suits her but a voice deep inside your head was screaming for you to keep your lips sealed, “What about your marriage? Hm, what about Diluc,” you say instead, pushing down the growing want that singes your belly with its devilish flames, “He does not deserve such a betrayal.”

The words leave an acrid taste on your tongue.

In truth, you cared little how Diluc felt about his wife's desires because it was clear in your eyes that he did not either, not if she was standing here before you in a state of undress, taunting you to fall prey to her loving touch. You were not in control of your mouth’s movements, it parroted someone else's voice without your permission.

Something sits on the tip of Lisa’s tongue. A confession or secret of sorts that was not meant for the ears of a lowly courtesan. You heard whispers of Diluc but never paid them any mind, in your eyes they were as false as whatever egregious vitriol was spewed about Lisa. Those at the very top were never as well-loved as their subjects would have them believe, their ambition and thirst for power corrupted whatever good will they may have held.

“Diluc does not need to know.”

Oddly, Lisa does not appear ashamed. In the morning when the flames have dwindled down to cooled embers and hardly have the strength to flicker, Lisa might feel ashamed. Tonight, she did not want to. She wished to relish in the feelings that she spent her entire life yearning for but could only suppress them with a forceful hand. Her stomach twisted itself up in excitement, at the prospect of wetting her maw and indulging in the appetite that she was shamed for having.

“You made an oath before Barabtos,” you continued, sucking in your bottom lip between your lips, “You cannot break that oath.”

“I swore to love a man I do not care for before a God that I do not believe in,” Lisa confessed, her hand rising to rest against her chest, “Is that not a sin too?”

Your throat feels like it is closing, your lungs threatening to constrict until you turn blue.

“Barbatos is kind.”

He’d forgive Lisa, that is what you wish to tell her but could he forgive this? Perhaps not.

That yellow-bellied craven is back again, resting its haunches upon your shoulders. You cannot shake it off because your mind races and allows itself to fall under the craven’s spell. The thirst that festers fights to be heard and appeased but all you can think about is how your silly, overly lavish attire chokes you.

Roughly tugging at your necklace until the clasp breaks, you throw it to the floor but it isn’t enough to fill your lungs. Your gloves are torn off next but you cannot reach the tiny buttons to free yourself from your petticoat. Lisa stares at you with concern, she’s come dangerously close to you. She smells of jasmine and honey, her hair is still rather damp and when she stands directly before you, you can see how the ends frizz.

“He is kind,” she agrees, boldly reaching to cup your heavily flushed cheek, “But I am far sweeter than he.”

“Lisa,” you whimper, her name comes out like a kitten's mewl and it is mortifying, “We shouldn’t no matter how much we wish to.”

Her touch sears your skin but it is electrifying and thrilling in a way that makes your heart race. You like the way her calloused palm slides across your smooth skin in a gentle caress but your mind is screaming at you to hate it, to hate this, to hate her. Leaning forward, Lisa presses her forehead against yours, and a long sigh passes through her pursed lips. She wouldn’t taste like raspberries and cream if you were to kiss her right now and that very notion made you wonder what she would taste like. There was no sharp sting of wine on her breath nor any goblets and pitchers. Lisa had not fallen into her cups, she was of sound mind and she wanted you in the way you wanted her.

Though you did not have the words to articulate what it was that you needed from her, you could feel that she knew exactly how the yearning felt to gnaw away at her flesh just as you did.

“I’m tired of denying who I am.”

Tears stick to her wispy lashes, but she does not appear saddened.

“Are you not tired of living a farce?” Lisa demands, her eyes boring into yours, “Do you not wish to feel just for one night what it is to be honest?”

Her tears leak onto your cheeks and drip down into the corners of your mouth. They’re salty but utterly human. It strikes you that Lisa had not been wholly human in your mind. Her sincerity and her vulnerability scared you because you did not recognize the fragility that all earthly beings possessed, yourself included. You saw her mask and the caricature she played but you still thought of her as some obscure and untouchable figure. What a disservice that was.

“I do not know what it is, to be honest,” you confess, shutting your eyes with a sigh, “And I am afraid.”

“Of what?”

Lisa’s voice is gentle, her other hand comes to cup your other cheek. You shook your head, unable to muster up an answer that would make sense to anyone but you.

“Of everything … of what comes afterward.”

Nothing could ever come from this. There was no afterward, that you knew but the potential of something erupting from the walls of her chamber and spilling out to the court made your blood run cold. She was the future of the realm, you could not be the reason she was deprived of her birthright or bringing ruin to this kingdom because some moronic barbarian of a cousin challenged her claim due to some foolish misstep that you goaded her into. You would never forgive yourself if you were to bring such ruin to the realm and to her.

It wasn’t fair.

To think, of how men could bed whomever they pleased whenever they wished and never once had to think of the consequences. For them, sex was as much of a God-given right as their status, lands, and titles. If they left a young miss pupped it was her fault for succumbing to a man's charms, she was the idiot but truly it was never a surprise. Girls were foolish, they were born lacking in the eyes of society and would never fulfil the impossible standards they were held to.

You were endlessly frustrated, but Lisa did not need your pity. She needed your resolve, lest she forget how truly precarious of a position she held.

“It would ruin you were anyone to find out,” you whisper, your brows stitching together as you frown, “Think of your future, think of the realm.”

Lisa shook her head, a huff passing through her nostrils, “That is all that I have done my entire life!” She exclaimed with a pithy laugh, “It is why I gave my blessing for Jean’s union to Varka and it is why I agreed to marry a man with whom I hold no affection for!”

Her eyes search yours for something utterly intangible, you wish to give it to her but you held even less than she did. Resting your forehead against hers, you press your eyes firmly shut. You could not bear to drown yourself even further within her swampy green eyes. They cut like a blade forged from noctilucous jade, sharp and stinging the longer you allowed yourself to prickle with forlorn.

“I am a woman of royal blood,” Lisa says with a resigned sigh, “It is my duty to be tortured.”

The way her hands quiver against your cheek brings tears to your eyes.

“And I am so tired of being tortured.”

Your eyes fly open to meet hers, and a few stray tears dribble off your lower lash line and gather beneath your eyes.

“Is it so wrong to covet one evening in which I am unshackled from the bonds of duty?” She implores, her voice crackling with shame, “Why is it so shameful for me to want, and to act upon it?”

“It isn’t, Lisa,” you whimper as a lump settles amid your throat, “But are you not afraid of all that you could lose?”

Lisa shrugs her shoulders, and a sad smile sits on her lips, “If I am to be burned at the stake for succumbing to my need to relish in the touch of another then I will have lived a full life,” she says with a certainty that startles you, “They would burn me for less, so why must I allow them to puppeteer me about like a miserable fool.”

Her hands slide from your face as she pulls away from you. The loss of her warmth steals the breath from within your lungs but the disappointment that festers is what surprises you.

“I understand if this is not what you want, so take your cloak and leave, and I shall wish you a safe journey home.”

Though she stands still before you, her posture rigid, it is as though you can see her placing her porcelain mask over top of her visage once more. The vaulted door inches closed the longer you stand silently in place, your mouth dumbly gaping as you struggle to comprehend the whirlwind of emotion that relentlessly whips you around. Lisa was older than you, she’s had many more years to work through the injustices that permeated the society she would soon rule, such injustices she may well uphold to secure another era of peace but you had just scratched the surface. You had always known it was cruel, the double-edged knife that pierced your chest and taunted you as you teetered along the rope of societal convention but never had you considered skirking duty and responsibility to steal one single moment where you deluded yourself into thinking nothing else mattered. Where there was action there was consequence, that was the way of the world but as you stood there you could not help but wonder if there would be no cosmic justice to answer to if you danced in the dark of night.

“Lisa … I,” your voice trails off as you stare at her figure, eyes raking over the ample curve of her hip, “I do not wish to leave but, I could not bear to live if I were to cause you harm by acting upon my uncouth desires.”

Her expression turns sympathetic, “Oh, sweetling,” she coos with the affection of a mother, “No desire is uncouth, flesh craves flesh. It is the most base and natural desire for us mortal beings to possess.” You feel like a child as she regards you but Lisa was raised for this. To slip into the role of mother, lover, sister, or friend if the situation called for it. Your stomach churned at the idea of being treated just the same as any other courtesan but it was to no fault of her own. A thousand questions rest at the tip of your tongue all of which you presume to know the answer to. The rumbling need that eats away at your insides begs for your mind to settle into a state of ease so your body can be satiated.

Her words soothed you some. You decided that would be enough for you to nod your head in agreement despite her words going against everything you had been taught to believe.

“There is nothing for you to be afraid of, nothing and no one shall lay harm to your head.”

Your concern for her seems to hang idly between the two of you. Lisa does not wish to address it, you wouldn’t force her hand, you couldn’t but it itches at the back of your mind as you step closer to her. She knew that you cared for her and her position, that would have to be enough for now.

“Thank you, Lisa,” you say with a small dip of your head. The roots of formality are buried deep within you and you happily cling to it like a babe with its favourite blanket, “I trust you, I do not doubt that you shall protect me as you always have.”

Smoothing your hands across the firm expanse of your corsetted top, you wistfully gaze upon Lisa. She beckons you forward with a quick flick of her wrist, “May I?” She asks, gesturing toward your petticoat.

“Yes, please if you would be so kind,” you laugh, the warmth in her gaze melts the tension gathered within your body, “Glory laced my corset a smidgen too tight this afternoon, I could hardly sit for for dinner.”

Lisa’s lithe finger glides across your shoulder blades as she moves to stand behind you. Goosebumps rise along the path she traces, and a shiver slivers between your ribs and leaves you rattled. The tiny pearl beaded buttons that follow the length of your spine give way easily to Lisa as she plucks them open. Your top begins to sag around your shoulders to reveal your corset-covered chemise. Lisa is oddly attentive in the way she undresses you, her touch is feather light and fleeting as she slides the sleeves of your top down your arms and folds it together before she sets it aside.

“Glory is a sweet girl,” she muses as she runs the palm of her hand flat against your top, “But, she has much to learn still, just as we all do.”

Turning your head to the side, you peer at Lisa from the corner of your eye, “Even you?”

“The game of thrones is not so easily won,” she cryptically mutters. Your skirt falls and pools at your feet when she pops the button holding it in place, “So yes, I too have much to learn.”

“You appear so …” Your voice trails off, a gasp cutting into your words.

The heat from Lisa’s palms bleeds through the thin fabric of your underclothes when she rests her hands on your hips.

“What was that?”

Her breath fans across your neck, hot and heavy.

Your head grows fuzzy but the feeling is pleasant and welcomed by you. This line of conversation is dead and buried, a mountain of soft damp earth piling on top of it as Lisa presses her abdomen flush against your back, her chin delicately perching upon your shoulder. Her hands slither from your hips to your lower belly, the tips of her fingers just barely caressing the stiff bottom of your corset. A throbbing sensation builds between your legs, it's simultaneously familiar and foreign. You may have felt it one night when trapped between the comforting embrace of a dream and the harsh reality of waking. The pads of her fingers absentmindedly stroke your belly, and your breath catches and compresses your chest where it sits, smouldering.

Pressing your thighs together, you allow yourself to meld into her form, “Nothing,” you breathlessly whisper, “Lisa would you … undress me?”

The pitchy lilt of your voice makes you cringe when the sound reaches your ears. Could Lisa decipher why your usually smooth voice grew shaky, if she peered and examined your expression would she see the beginnings of lust form within the pools of your irises? You knew nothing of lust or love but something that laid between the two must have swirled within you. If it was as natural as Lisa proclaimed it to be, then there was no reason for you to feel so overwhelmed with the prospect of feeling something new. You were human, a creature of habit that sought skin like anyone else. Taking a breath, you willed yourself to relax.

“Oh yes,” Lisa mumbles, retracting her embrace, “You must be terribly uncomfortable, darling.”

You bob your head up and down in agreement though that isn’t why you need as few layers draped across your body as possible. Maybe it’s the unnerve you feel being so well put together while she was an apparition in her most vulnerable and honest form. Still stuck in the muddy depths etiquette. To be equal with her was a ridiculous sentiment but for her to be beneath you in any manner was rather absurd. But in her chambers anything was possible, wasn’t it? Or it was one of the many things you failed to put into words out of fear and a lack of vocabulary. All you knew was that your skin burned and itched beneath the white cotton chemise, it would slough off in a matter of minutes if you didn’t peel the fabric from your body.

Lisa guides your arms above your head once the ties are loose enough to be lifted and glide along your torso. You suck in a deep breath once you’re freed from the garment, your lungs fully expanding. It wasn’t often that you found yourself discomforted in the overly formal attire that made up your wardrobe as a genteel courtesan, the support provided by your corset quashed any qualms you had about how bothersome and restrictive it was and you quite enjoyed the artistry that came with intricately made lace trimmed gowns or paisley printed frocks. You had never felt as smothered by the weight of your overly embellished clothing as you did now.

The chemise stuck to your sweat dabbled skin, the already thin white cloth becoming rather translucent. As you peered downward, your chin tucked into your collarbone, you stared at the way your nipples poked through the soft fabric with stiff peaks. Guiding the palm of your hand along your décolletage, you tug the chemise away from your flushed body but to no avail the damp fabric settles back upon your skin with a wet plop.

“Is that better?”

Lisa’s hands hover over your updo, carefully plucking the masterfully placed pins that keep your hair twisted and coiffed, “Yes,” you say, your eyes rolling back into your head as your hair cascades into soft waves around your shoulders, “Thank you, Lisa.”

“You do not have to thank me,” you can hear the frown in her voice though you cannot see her expression, “Here I am just Lisa, not the princess or the heir.”

“Just Lisa,” you repeat out loud and then a dozen more times in your head until it sticks.

To completely remove a lifetime of conditioning is a near impossible task but once upon a time, it would not have been too strenuous to regard Lisa as a friend. That is what she has always been somewhere between the hazy image she projected outward and the person who stood before you— simply a friend.

“I believe I quite like Lisa,” you whisper in a conspiratory manner.

Spinning in a small circle, you turn to face her. You’ve never been bold, not one day in your life but you feel daring when you reach out to touch her. The tips of your fingers lightly brush her bicep but it electrifies you, spurring you on to wrap your hand around the crook of her elbow. Lisa studies your movement with observant eyes, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. It is almost a test of will when you tug her to you. Graceful as ever, Lisa does not stumble or trip over her feet at your abrupt movement.

Trailing your hand up the length of her arm, you mirror her earlier actions and cup her cheek, “I like her a lot, even before she let me see her,” somehow, it is easier to speak to her as though the two of you were discussing someone else entirely, “I fear I like her more than I should.”

There is no easy way to confess all that lingers in your heart lest you wish to spend hours upon hours turning over each foible to meticulously inspect them. All you could hope for was that these few simple words resonated within Lisa without needing further elaboration. It was enough for you, to know she holds some sort of affection for you that extends far past what would be considered the norm.

“She likes you too.”

Her skin is hot to the touch. If Lisa is blushing it’s well hidden amongst the warm coloured firelight that flickers weakly from the hearth. Still, even in the steadily dwindling light, she looks something straight out of the novels you drowned yourself in over the past two months. Her beauty has never been lost on you but as you’re able to fully appreciate her appearance you find your breath stolen from you. Even dressed in her nightgown she remains rather elegant but there is a demure essence that radiates around her exposed figure. You drink in the way her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes and how her tanned skin melts into gauzy white fabric.

It was a shame that Diluc was her husband, he’d never appreciate the blessing he was gifted with every evening. Envy coiled dangerously tight around your gut, pulling your belly taunt for a moment. You have to remind yourself that he was as much of an unwilling participant in this doomed union as Lisa is, neither of them were to blame and you would not have wished for Diluc’s lover to spurn or disparage Lisa for a fate that she did not choose for herself. Diluc must have taken a lover too, if only to mitigate the frigid cavern of loneliness that filled their solar.

Setting your focus on to the sharp curve of Lisa’s cupids bow, you force any loitering and unwanted thoughts of Diluc far away. It’s a repeated action that makes your insides feel ugly because you were the sole focus of the woman you embraced. You made a quick and fruitless prayer to Barbatos that with age your jealousy would fade. If your God were listening you hoped that he would give you a sign that he could forgive the transgressions you were to commit.

“Good,” the corners of your lips twitch into a smile, your thumb tracing a circle into her cheek, “It pleases me endlessly to know.”

You think that you should ask for her permission before you move to kiss her but then you’d lose the nerve you’d begun to build before you ever got the chance to make the proposition. Slowly leaning toward her, you angle your face so close that the tip of your nose bumps against hers. You can hear the audible hitch that falters her steady breath, you can feel it too. The rapid rush of blood that swishes your eardrums is defeaning but above it all you can hear the way Lisa’s heart beats frantically, though it may mistaken the sound of your own roaring heart for hers.

Where your lips are slightly have slightly crackled from nervously chewing and picking at the skin, her lips are as soft as a rose petal and tastes of nothing at all. Once more it is over as quickly as it began– the quick brushing of lips, a divine sample to fill the insurmountable urge of want that hungers for the taste of skin. Lisa stares at you for a moment, her eyes shockingly round and blinking, there is something heavy that lurks within the murky depths of her irises that shoots a jolt straight to your core. Messily threading her fingers through your hair, Lisa haphazardly mashes her mouth against yours in a desperate haste that leaves you gasping against her lips.

Your hips bump into the sturdy oak wood frame of her four-poster bed when you stumble back from the weight of Lisa’s body crashing into yours. Her nails dig into the fragile skin of your scalp, it stings in a pleasant way that has you keening into the kiss. You catch bits of Lisa’s tongue and teeth, there is nothing poised or practiced in the primal way she attempts to consume you. Your jaw falls slack to allow her tongue to ravish your mouth, curiously it flicks against the roof and slides against your own useless tongue that lays limp. The selfish sort of satisfaction that fills you grows exponentially with each inexperienced and utterly depraved motion.

“Lisa,” you pant between sloppy open-mouthed kisses, “I … I need you.”

Need is a rather obscure word, it leaves a rather spacious crevious for Lisa to guess what you mean when you tell her that you need her. A moan spills like ichor from your throat when she roughly tilts your head back to expose the column of your neck, her teeth tear into as if it were as pulpy and thin as a peach’s fuzz blotting blotchy bruises that you’d figured out how to cover up tomorrow when your senses return to you. For now, they shall remain lost to you because all that is tangible within your brain is need. You needed Lisa in the same way you needed air to breathe or sleep to carry on into the next day. You needed Lisa like she were a leather waterskin dipped in the glacial waters of the Starglow Cavern on a sweltering mid-August day. There would be no you without some piece of her embedded between your hip bones because you needed her.

She seems to understand or at the very least share some of this carnal all consuming feeling. Her hands released their hold on your head and floated down to your hips to grab fistfuls of your flesh. The fabric of your chemise becomes bunched up between her hands and exposes the smooth expanse of your legs to Lisa who leers at the sight with her lips drawn between her teeth.

Lisa lazily sighs your name into the crook of your neck, languidly rolling the syllables around her mouth as she allows her calloused palms to squeeze your thigh. In all the ways you imagined what bedding another would be like, never would you have thought for it to be filled with an urgency that left you reeling. You thought it was supposed to be gentle and timid with you spread across your duvet with the sweet floral notes of some luxurious flower filling the air. All you smelt now was scored cedar, sweat, and the smothered undertones of the fragrant perfumes you and she both wore.

Lisa’s touch was searing, you could feel her all over you even when she drew back to climb atop her cushy mattress, “Come here,” she beckoned, her breasts bouncing as her chest heaved with a ragged breath, “Right this instant.”

Her demanding tone made your knees weaken where you stood and it pleased you greatly to her play the part of the petulant princess the court tried to make her out to be. Hitching your leg over the edge of the bed you pulled yourself upward, landing on her mound of overly fluffed pillows with a huff. Her bed was stupidly large and ridiculously high off the ground. You grumbled under your breath as you rolled over to face Lisa, your elbow digging into the mattress as you propped your head up.

“Off, will you please take this off?” She nearly begs, her hands already leaving her sides to tug at the frilled hem of your chemise, “I would like to see all of you.”

Your heart skips a beat, “Only if I too can see all of you,” the coquettish lilt in your voice borders on teasing, “It is only fair, is it not?”

“I suppose it is,” she chirps, teasingly pushing one strap of her nightgown down the slope of her shoulder, “In another life, you’d make a rather fine negotiator my darling.”

The other strap falls on its own. The bust of her nightgown crumples beneath the weight of her breasts, sliding down her body to reveal the parts of her that were usually swathed in fine silks imported from Liyue and gems harvested from Sumeru. Your mouth ran dry as Lisa reached behind her to tug at the loosely tied laces of her dress. Her breasts spilled out as the fabric slipped off and pooled around her hips.

Some time ago you had peered into a dusty, long forgotten tome tucked away into a forgotten corner of the library. Among its pages were the histories of the lands before the Archon War and the Seven blessed the lands of Teyvat. There were detailed accounts of long dead deities of love and beauty, pages upon pages dedicated to depictions of their supposedly perfect and delectable figure. Lisa looked as though she walked straight out of those yellowed pages and laid before you because she knew she was the Gods greatest trick of temptation.

The pudge of her belly created rolls that were begging you to dig your fingers into, “You are utterly divine,” you whispered, your eyes falling slack as you committed each curve and dimple to memory, “And I believe one of life’s greatest joys must be worshipping you in a manner befitting a Goddess.”

“Oh, you flatter me!”

She flaps her hand about in dismissal, rolling her eyes a bit as she impatiently waits for you to hurry along in undressing yourself.

“It is not flattery if it is the truth,” you murmur, a small wanton whimper biting into your words, “They should paint statues and create great marble figures of you, with songs penned by bards that tell all who shall listen of the magnitude of your beauty.”

Hooking your fingers around the back of Lisa’s neck, you pull her in for a searing kiss, silencing any further witty quips. Lisa didn’t need flattery or falsehoods, she spent the entirety of her existence on the mortal plain being fed pretty words of praise ‘til she got sick of them. But your words were neither and you’d still speak them like hymns against her flesh until she believed them.

Lisa desperately pulled at the fabric of your chemise, your mouth and mind too focused on suckling on her tongue to mind how the garment tore as she stretched it over your shoulder blades, “I hate this thing,” She murmured between kisses.

“Then, tear it off!”

Your suggestion is thoughtless, you simply wished for her lips to stop mother and press to yours once more. You did not think she’d do it or even have the strength to rip through the cotton but she did. The chemise gives way to Lisa’s hands with such ease you can’t help but gasp as she peels the torn sweat sweat-soaked garment away from your body.

“That was quite fun,” she giggles to herself, “I shall buy you many more for the express purpose of wrenching them from your body!”

Her eyes appear pitch black, her irises diminished to thin green rings, absolutely drenched with lust. She drinks in the expanse of your bare skin, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Pushing you to lay flat against the mountain of pillows that line her headboard. The rest of Lisa’s nightgown slips down her hips and rests carelessly aside. A thin trail of mousy brown hair dusts along the length of her abdomen from just beneath her navel, all the way to her pelvis where a thick patch of curls keeps her cunt hidden from your view.

Tossing her legs over your hips, she looms over you with a devilish expression, “By the Gods you are scrumptious,” she coos, “I could just take a bite right out of you!”

Lisa emphasizes her words by nipping at your earlobe and then again at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. This bite is deeper and makes you jolt in surprise, but it melds into a breathless moan as she slips her hand between your bodies. Her fingertips graze your vulva, lightly tugging on your pubes before she draws a featherlight circle to your clit.

“That feels good,” you whisper, wrapping your hand around her forearm to keep her place, “Can I please have more?”

She laughs at you but not in an insulting manner like she means to humiliate you, “So polite,” Lisa hums, circling the pads of her fingers around your clit, “I’ve taught you well, haven’t I sweetling.”

“You have,” you purr, threading your fingers into her hair. It’s damp with sweat and sticks to the nape of her neck.

Your body warms and melts into the lush bedding, you’ve never felt hunger like this before. The pit in your belly sinks inward and your hips rise to meet her hand, chasing her touch because you’d never bite the hand that feeds you.

“I’ve always wanted nothing more than to be good for you.”

Her plush lips brush the tip of your nose, “You’ve been so good,” Lisa says, “You’ve tried so hard.”

The loss of her touch makes you whine but it's soon replaced with the dripping wet heat of her cunt against yours. Lisa grabs your thigh, her fingers digging into the fat of your flesh as she positions your leg over her shoulder. Her breasts sway as she begins to rock her hips into yours, the slick arousal that coats your cunts allowing them to slide against one another with ease.

She wears a sort of lovesick expression that you never imagined would be directed at you. Your heart soars and the wanton moans Lisa lets out are like music to your ears. Your insides feel gooey and your head grows fuzzy in a way not dissimilar when you’ve had your fill of dandelion wine but it’s better.

“I have,” you croon, your eyes glazing over.

The headboard creaks loudly with Lisa’s movement, slamming against the wall in heavy thumps, “Mhm,” Lisa grunts, cursing under her breath. Her lips are too pretty for such filthy words, “The best and only for me, right?”

“Uhuh!”

It’s all you can muster up between the bare breaths that clog themselves in your throat and pleasured sighs. Lisa is unsatisfied, her hips nearly still as she peers down at you with a pointed expression. Frustration claws at your throat and you’ve half mind to bare your teeth and snarl at her for snatching away the threads of bliss.

“All yours,” you moan, the ravenous hunger is close to subsiding, “Only for you, I’m all yours Lisa.”

You both knew it was a false promise built upon a mountain of lies but as the two of you chased your bliss, it didn’t feel like it was. Honesty is all that either of you see through the hazed mist and sex filled air. It was a pleasant mirage that disguised the cruelties of society.

Streaks of red taint Lisa’s perfect skin, they’ll fade in two days' time but for now, they were there and they were proof that this wasn’t just some far fetched reverie that filled your lust-addled mind on a rather lonely eve.

“There will never be anyone else for me.”

Tears prickle at your eyes but you don’t feel sad. You’ve never felt as good as you did in that moment, pleasure washing over you and turning your limbs to stone as exhausting settled in. Lisa’s lips twitched into a melancholic smile, a heavy breath passing through her lips. She gazed at you for a moment, her eyes sweeping over your face before she laid back on the bed beside you.

Tomorrow, insecurity will poke itself into the side of your rib cage to take root in your lungs until you choke on the feeling. For now, her silence soothed your frazzled mind as she settled beside you, her arm looping over your stomach. Resting her head on your shoulder, she places one last kiss on the underside of your jaw before settling in for a restful slumber.

You stare up at the top of the canopy, trailing over the vine printed pattern.

Tomorrow none of this would exist.

You’d settle with the knowledge that while the only person your heart has room for was someone you could never, you’d love to see another day and eventually you’d find peace in it. Even if your heart sank with the knowledge that Lisa did not return the sentiment. Her lack of words was proof enough but you’d grow to have enough strength so it did not destroy like it would have.

But, that was tomorrow's thought.

Tonight you sunk your teeth into the forbidden fruit that would taunt you for the rest of your days. You’d relish in the knowledge and feed on it during the harsh winter months and perhaps you’d feed again if the Gods were in your favour. For now, you let your eyes flutter shut and let the soothing embrace of sleep wrap around you much like she did.

It would be enough. It had to be, Lisa was never yours to keep and you had known it from the moment you met her.

“Good night, my sweetling,” she whispers into your soft, sweat-soaked skin.

She knows it too, all too well– as the future queen she cradled the realm between two careful hands, all but you. Anything she desired stood but a fingers brush away but you would never linger as close as you did this night, it was far too dangerous. Lisa was familiar with letting go, she’d have no trouble keeping you at arm's length and locking away the memories for the rare moments of indulgence. This was not the first time Lisa has had to put duty above all, it wouldn’t be the last either. There would be another Jean, another you, someone who captures her heart for a short while and brings to fruition all the hidden desires on a lust-filled evening when it all boils over and is inescapable.

You weren’t special, perhaps Jean was and whoever comes last. She was the first, young love was unparalleled and could never be replicated.

Lisa has long since fallen asleep when you find your voice once more, “Good night, Lisa.” You whisper into the dark of night, skin pimpled with goosebumps.

“I won’t ever love anyone the way I love you.”

You’re speaking to no one in particular, Lisa cannot hear you and Barbatos has better things to do than listen to the languid murmurs of a lonely person– there are far too many of those across the expanse of Teyvat, their woes must fall onto deaf ears because they’ve grown boring.

“But, if I’m half as strong as you, I’ll carry on.”

You weren’t but you could wear the mask because if Lisa taught you anything, it was to pretend to be someone you would never be. And you’d grown to be quite as good, even as good as she. Lisa was just that good of a teacher. As sleep beckoned you into her comforting embrace, a second skin slithered over your body and pressed into your curves.

Tomorrow, you’d be the image of perfection the court and your family willed you to be and that would be enough for your aching heart. True love belonged sealed between the pages of parchment, in paragraphs of children’s tales and romantic ballads sung by drunk bards looking to charm a lady. There was no place for it in the court of Mondstadt or within House Minci– lofty positions and grand riches could not be won by those distracted by childish whims.

To be of royal or even genteel blood was to be tortured, but the two of you would persist as hundreds and thousands had before you.

“I must.”

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