WC: 1,226 | AO3 link
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Caleb x fem!reader
Summary: Caleb strokes his cock whilst watching you try on all the various outfits you bought with his money that day.
Tags & CWs: heavy pseudo-incest, masturbation, pearl necklace, Caleb's POV, they're both as perverted as each other
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idk what happened this wasn't supposed to be this long pfff
"So I wasn't really sure about this one. The shoulders seemed a little too...poofy?" Caleb watches you twist and turn in front of the mirror to see yourself from all angles. "What do you think?"
You turn around, waiting for Caleb's assessment.
"No no, it looks - mm - it looks real nice on you." He says, looking you up and down appreciatively from his place on the edge of the bed.
"Do you really have to do that every time I show you the outfits I bought?" You sigh at him, pointedly looking down to where he's languidly stroking his cock. "You're such a pervert."
"What," he says with a breathy chuckle. "It's like you're putting on a show for me. I've course I'm gonna jerk off."
You roll your eyes and go to grab your next dress.
"Plus," he mutters to himself when you're out of earshot. "Maybe I get off on my little sister spoiling herself with my money."
He'd never let you know but he's also getting to live out his childhood dream. Back when you'd do this as teenagers, he'd have to sit with a pillow over his crotch and wait until he could rush to the bathroom to pathetically spill himself into a tissue when all he wanted to do was stroke himself as he watched you try on a multitude of short skirts and thigh-high socks. He always wondered whether you knew what you were doing back then, or if you were still so oblivious to your feelings that you really did just want to show your brother your new clothes.
"What about this one?" He looks up as you reappear from the walk-in closet, now wearing a cute red dress with a white lace trim. And a skirt so short he gets a glimpse of your ass when you do a little twirl for him.
"Oooh yeah," he moans, fist squeezing tighter around his cock. "I like that one. Can already see myself bending you over the kitchen table and flippin' up that lil skirt of yours."
Yep, he definitely wants to fuck you in that one. He'll be making sure you wear some little shorts with it when you wear it out though. No one else gets to see his sister like that.
He can't help but pump his fist harder up and down his cock at how adorable you look. The pre-cum's been oozing from his tip for a while now so his hand's gliding with ease and making quiet schlick-schlick-schlick noises with each stroke.
"Okay, I'll keep this one too." You don't even pay attention to what he's doing, you're probably so used to it by now that's it's become second nature. "I have two more things to show you, just a couple of lingerie sets."
Fuck yes. His favourite part of the show.
You disappear around the corner again and the sound of bags being emptied out onto the floor drift through into the bedroom.
"This set isn't anything fancy," you shout out to him. "But it was comfy so I got it."
Caleb doesn't mind, he doesn't care for the fancier lingerie. He finds himself more drawn to the innocent look. Reminds him of the stuff he used to find in the laundry when you were younger.
When you return you're in a simple white bra and panty set with cute little bows adorned on the front. Caleb's cock jumps in his hand. Yeah, he definitely prefers this kind.
"Looks s-soft." He mutters, hips starting to buck up a little into his hand to fuck his fist. "God, you look - hng - you look so cute."
"Thanks!" You beam at him, still not looking down at his cock. "I thought so too!"
He wonders if it's weird; that it actually makes him harder with you refusing to acknowledge how he sits there half-naked, tugging on his cock. You're not even doing anything sexual, you're just trying on outfits, that's it. And yet every time he can't help but shove his hand down his boxers and pathetically get himself off.
He watches you give yourself another quick once over before skipping back to the closet, presumably to change into your last set.
Caleb waits patiently, bringing himself closer and closer to the edge. You usually save the best 'til last, he suspects you do that deliberately. You may play innocent but you know exactly what you're doing.
"I also got this super cute one, look, it's got apples on it!" You bounce back into the bedroom. "Not as cute as Sunny Apple, of course, but still."
"Oh f-fuck..." He groans. His little sister looks so fucking cute he can't stand it and, shit, he might come soon.
Not yet, not yet, not yet he prays in his head. He's not ready, he wants to take you all in before blowing his load. He wants to appreciate how the colour compliments your skin, how it shows off your breasts perfectly and, fuck, how your stiff little nipples poke through the thin material of them.
He's vaguely aware of how he's panting like a dog. He focuses on the head of his cock where he's the most sensitive, his hand giving quick but firm strokes, and he can feel his balls jiggle with each tug.
"You wanna come over my tits?" You ask excitedly, bounding over and dropping down to your knees in front of him, settling yourself between his spread legs.
Caleb whimpers and shuts his eyes. Okay yeah, he's definitely going to come soon.
"Don't w-wanna ruin - haah - ruin your bra." He says, voice whiny and shaky as he desperately tries to hold off coming for as long as he can.
"It's okay, I bought two sets 'cause they were so cute." He watches as you shuffle forward on your knees a little, practically presenting your tits for him. "Plus I'd kinda considered making myself come while wearing a pair and then giving you my cum-soaked panties as a little gift."
After all this time he still can't tell whether you do this on purpose - say the filthiest of things in the most innocent of ways. Like you're talking about what you did that day and not how you want your brother to defile you.
And there's absolutely nothing he can do to stop the torrent of cum that suddenly erupts from his cock, splattering against your chest and dripping down to slip into your cleavage.
"Oh sh-shit." He chokes out with a groan and the cum just keeps coming. "Oooh god, that's good, that's so fucking good, holy shit."
Caleb keeps going, whimpering and trembling until he's milked out every drop. His cock pulses in his hand, knuckles covered in cum, and he stares at the beautiful mess before him.
"Fuck...you look so fuckin' good with my cum all over you." If his phone was nearby he'd take a photo for sure.
He looks down at you kneeling there with your proud little grin.
"You know," Caleb says, still trying to regain his breath. "You may call me a pervert," He drags a finger through the cum on your chest and brings it up to your mouth. "But we both know you're as bad as me."
Two days later he finds a pretty pair of apple-patterned panties sticky with cum on his pillow.
I'm not usually into the 'pathetic guy' characteristic/trope but, man, do I enjoy it for Caleb.
I currently have a prompt list you can make requests from! Go check it out here ☺️
Your legs gave out three rounds ago, unable to support your weight under the relentless pleasure Caleb gave you. You lost count of how many times you'd come between his hands, his mouth, and now his cock. Each thrust of his fat cock echoes throughout the room in wet, squelching sounds in a mix of your desire, come, and his.
You fist the sheets below you, desperate for something to tether you to reality, to this moment, to keep you grounded in the unending sensation and presence of Caleb looming above you. Each time you tried to close your eyes, he grabbed your face and squeezed, making you look back up at him, into that beautiful violet gaze that never left your face.
Caleb watches every shift of your expression, every subtle change that comes with each roll of his hips, each peak of pleasure, and how you writhe under the burn of overstimulation. Yet, he never lets you go, keeping you in place, keeping your attention only on him.
Hot, thick tears pool in the corners of your eyes. The sensation is simply too much. You're too full, the slick drag of his cock against your insides is overwhelming. Your bodies are covered in sweat, the pendant of his necklace hitting your chest as he fucks into you, hard, fast, and so fucking deep. Caleb is everywhere. All you can see. Those big arms caging you under him, keeping you so, so full and unable to escape him or the pleasure he gave you.
A rough thrust, and you come, again, unable to stop it. The tears fall free, and you cling to him as you sob out his name, unable to stop the noise or the rush of tears that spring forward now that the damn has burst. They rain down your cheeks, to your lips, back down your ears, entirely soaking your face by the time your orgasm wanes.
He kisses you. Messy, needy, hungry. Like you are the air he breaths. When he pulls away, he licks the tears off your cheek and groans. "That's right, cry for Gege."
And you do, the tears coming faster. You're unable to stop them, unable to get a grip on yourself. Every thrust gives Caleb another one of your pathetic, needy sobs. You're begging, though what for, you aren't sure. To stop? To continue? To feel him come inside you? All of the above? It's hard to say. You simply feel everything. Lost in sensation.
Caleb chuckles. "Look at you, poor little thing. Cryin' already and I'm nowhere near done with you yet. Is this really all you can take, Pips? What happened to that attitude?"
The degrading tone of his voice, the chuckle, and the rough, endless thrusts have you clamping and sobbing around him again, close. Hypersensitive and overwhelmed, all you can do is cling to him and sob. He licks up the other cheek, gathering your salty tears. His had grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and he spits into your mouth.
You gasp, your jaw closing, and he lightly slaps your cheek. Just enough to capture your attention. "Swallow."
You swallow, and Caleb groans, closing the distance once again and giving you a sloppy, messy kiss.
Neither of you are stopping anytime soon.
this came to be bc I was working on crying kink headcannons (will be up in a few days!!!) and...well...I got possessed by a demon that Gilly encouraged. Happy Birthday bestie!!!! I hope you enjoy your lil birthday cupcake!!!!
You try to take back your freedom from Diluc in a failed attempt to escape as retribution. Only do you see then that Freedom and Retribution, when mixed, spark a flame stronger than Hell’s.
Yandere! Diluc x Reader
Cw: burning body. 1.3k words.
When Freedom has allowed the perpetrator to deeply offend and hurt Diluc, Retribution becomes his god. The fire of his phoenix does not need the oxygen in Barbatos’ wind and air to burn the path leading to vengeance. It only requires anger for fuel.
And currently, he is beyond angry with you.
It would have been another quiet night in Mondstadt had you stayed by Diluc’s side in the warmth of your bed, in the warmth of his manor; instead, the frosty howling winds of Dragonspine are what kiss and nip at your skin. The stinging cold would have been better than his hot breath had he not so quickly found you.
He stands there a few meters away dressed in a long, heavy wool coat that makes him appear twice his already large size. His body is fairly still while his Vision, revealed by the belt of his coat which has come undone, pulsates as the only source of light beside the moon. Pyro waiting to be unleashed illuminates the snowflakes swirling his legs in a bloody red. He does not speak. He only heaves heavily as he wedges the tip of his claymore further in between two snow-covered rocks to keep him steady. His hot breath immediately turns into puffs of visible air that dissipate into the atmosphere. Surely, the impromptu hike was a troublesome ordeal in the ceaseless blizzards that kill all that wish to live. Retribution is, however, something Diluc would dance with Death for.
You had only wanted Freedom. That was, as a resident of Mondstadt, your only crime. None believed your attempts to expose your husband for his possessive and restrictive behaviour. None could ever suspect their beloved friend, boss, brother, or former colleague could cage in his home like a bird the person he loves most, the person he always speaks so highly of, the person he does everything for. They have all drunk his wine made from the grapes he crushes beneath his feet. Superficial appearances built upon his socio-economic power are detrimental to your attempted revelations of the horrors that lie inside manor walls where your every move is watched and reported by maids loyal to him. Speaking to other men is impossible; not even friends nor family can access you without his intervention. It is all to keep you, in his words, safe from the influence of bad and potentially bad people. He has suffered betrayal too many times. If he can prevent such a fate with the one he loves most—
Diluc watches, like a wild boar does its prey, as you back further into the cave as though it were a cage that could keep you safer than your home.
—he will do whatever is in his power to smother your spark.
It is no wonder you turned to the gods; they were all you had left. In your belief, the mountains were the safest haven to ask for and to obtain the right of Freedom which had become a privilege when Diluc had first set his sights upon you, for the cold would presumably deter anything which burned passionately, like his love. Dragonspine’s peak was the closest you could reach for Celestia where Barbatos surely lives, and upon reaching it, you would call out his name in a desperate prayer.
“Save me, my Lord,” Diluc repeats what he had heard you say moments before in a mocking voice so quiet, you can barely hear through the wind’s cries. “From this terrible monster.”
A part of you knew you would never make it to the peak. Not because of the sheer cold, nor the Fatui soldiers and hilichurls you barely made it past on slippery trails covered in permafrost, but because of Diluc’s determination. Nonetheless, you and Diluc are quite similar in that respect. Determination is what Diluc had once admired in you when he had yet to call you his. That fire in your eyes paired with the passion in your heart burned so brightly that he was the moth to your flame. You are his sun, his whole world. That is why you knew it was unlikely for you to reach the peak. Your determination for Freedom is, however, something you would dance with Death for.
You feel something against your back as you slowly retreat further into the cave. There follows a loud thud. Oil paints of all primary colours bleed from opened cans onto the stone ground where brushes lay sporadically and aimlessly as if exhausted from being dragged against canvases. The paints mix into varied colours, and in some areas, muddle into brown. This is the vacant campsite of the alchemist and artist Albedo which you have unknowingly sought refuge in.
“You cause disaster wherever you go.” Diluc steps forward with his claymore as a cane. His voice is clearer this time. “I’m fairly certain it’s your curse. You curse me.”
Any vulgar warning and pathetic plea escaping your lips to leave you alone falls on deaf ears. He continues to approach you in a slow, steady manner unlike the raging fire from his claymore had as it lit his path to you in the darkness of night.
You look around the cave’s interior dimly lit by tabletop lamps. Miscellaneous items for alchemical and artistic purposes decorate the tables. Flasks, vials, rulers, pencils, and canvases with flying birds painted on them. You throw whatever you can at him and at his feet to deter him from entering the cave, so when you grab a glass Erlenmeyer flask with an unknown liquid inside, you do not think before you act.
Fire becomes all there is. It spreads rapidly in streams inside the cave but embers fear the blizzard where Diluc stands outside. Flames catch onto the fabric of your clothes, fire eats at your frost-bitten flesh. Your screams breathe to life the inferno that burns to death Diluc’s soul and heart just from witnessing it. Corrosive, oxidizing acid and oil paint do well to emulate hellfire.
You jump around frantically to free yourself of the flames. This is your dance with Death and the music which accompanies you are Diluc’s shouts and the blizzard’s howling in a harmonious symphony.
Between fire and snow, you must choose. Corrupted Freedom in Death or in Diluc’s arms?
Choice, however, is a freedom you do not have.
Diluc pulls you out of the flames with bare hands when you stumble close enough to the cave’s entrance. Quickly, in arms that cage your body, he wraps his wool coat around you to successfully smother the flames. Snowflakes sizzle and burn exposed skin where fire fueled by oil once raged. Your knees buckle but he catches you before the snow at your feet could hurt you anymore than the fire has.
“I’ve got you now! You’re safe!” He chokes on his sobs as he tries to hug you with burnt hands despite all the pain that shoots up his arms. He leans his head downwards to kiss your head before stopping when he sees how the fire has scorched the hair off your scalp. The damage inflicted upon you as a result of rejecting his pursuit, his desire, his love, pains his heart more than his burns for a moment. He is a monster, and he cannot help but cry harder. “I love you—I love you so much! Don’t ever leave me, don’t ever die on me! I won’t let you!”
In burning yourself, you have put out the fuel that is his anger.
“Barbatos could never take you from me.”
In your peripheral vision, miraculously preserved, you see the flames continue to engulf the campsite.
Only then do you remember there are no gods in Hell.
A/N: I originally wanted Diluc to roll you and himself in the snow to put out the flames but then I remembered snow is water and this is an oil fire…so instead, I gave him a wool coat to keep him warm in Dragonspine’s eternal winter since wool is fire-resistant. I hope this is all correct in chemical terms…but if it's not, oh well, Teyvat has its own laws, right? Also, please do not use this fanfic as a way to understand how to put out grease fires. This is fanFICTION!
Disclaimer: yandere fanfiction is not meant to be taken seriously, nor is it a portrayal of love/romance.
Pronouns used: they/them
CW: mentions of dying, normal yandere stuff yk
Nickname(s) used: my love, beloved
Notes: trying to get back to writing again, might be ooc, you and Xiao are dating
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ORIGINALLY FROM MY TIKTOK BUT REWORKED IT!
He's deathly afraid of losing you in any way, shape or form and that includes you dying. He doesn't want to lose you, no matter what, so he's EXTREMELY protective of you. He's always ready to fight for you and will always appear when you speak his name, it doesn't matter how you say it, you could whisper his name or shout it from the rooftops and he'd appear, though it always catches you off guard. He always says "You called, my love?"
Sometimes you two will both watch the sky in comfortable silence and he would NEVER admit it, but he loves it when you doze off and rest your head on his shoulder, he becomes hyper aware of the area and his protective vibe amplifies.
One day, you told Xiao that you were going to Dihua Marsh to just go outside and Xiao trusted you, so he nods. "Alright. Be careful and speak my name if something unexpected happens. I'll have my Jade Spear ready to protect you." You nod and happily walk outside with no destination in mind. After walking, you see a bush of Silk Flowers and you walk towards it and start to walk towards the bush and reach towards the flowers. You look directly in front of you, making the realization that you wandered into a Treasure Hoarder camp without even knowing it!
You remain still, but little did you know that Xiao was nearby, watching you from the shadows. He grips onto his Jade Spear and his eyes glow (ngl that would be horrifying if I saw that irl) brightly. He continues to observe you as one of the Treasure Hoarders sees you, a person who accidentally wandered into a Treasure Hoarder campsite. "What do you think you're doing, wandering into our campsite like this? Are you looking for a fight?" One of them asks.
You gasp and shake your head worriedly. "I-I don't want to cause any trouble! I just saw these Silk Flowers and I wanted to pick them for my-" You start to say and the Treasure Hoarder looks at you and immediately cuts you off. "Tch, likely story. Have a little taste of what happens when you infiltrate our campsite." They raise their shovel at you and you gasp and immediately shout his name and the Treasure Hoarder laughs. "Shouting for him? He doesn't answer for just anybody, y'know. He wouldn't appear for just some random-" Xiao appears and looks at the Treasure Hoarders. "You called, Y/N." Xiao says as he looks at you for any visible injuries. Once he sees that you have none, all he has to do is just... glare at them menacingly with his glowing eyes and they get absolutely scared, fleeing instantly (lmao).
What I imagine Xiao would look like if his eyes were glowing. (Credit to genshinimpactxd1650 on TT!)
Xiao hates to see you upset, so he makes a reminder to "take care" of them at night when you're in Wangshu Inn as safe as can be. "I'm glad to see that you're alright. Why would they approach you?" He asks as he cautiously watches you. You shrug. "I'm not sure, but I just want to go home..." Xiao looks at you, still slightly spooked and holds your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, his way of saying "everything's okay, you're with me and I will keep you safe, my love".
Night eventually approaches and you calm down, remembering that Xiao has to go and protect Liyue at night. "Duty calls, my love, stay here and rest for the night, I'll be back before you know it. Rest well." He lightly kisses your forehead and catches one last glimpse of you before quietly heading out, first targets are the Treasure Hoarders that belittled you today. Xiao explores the area and quickly finds the treasure hoarders, they stick out like a sore thumb because most Treasure Hoarders aren't dumb enough to exist near Wangshu Inn if they value their life.
Xiao's eyes do that glowing thing again upon recognition. The Treasure Hoarders see a specific spear glowing in the moonlight and they turn around, only to see glowing eyes and the Jade Spear. "Hey there, you two seem familiar, it's a pleasure to run into you both again. Do you recognize me? You threatened my beloved earlier today. An unwise move."
Before they can respond, Xiao basically does his Elemental Burst and they go silent IMMEDIATELY.
"This wouldn't have have happened if they didn't threaten Y/N like that."
❝ YOU WERE NEVER TRULY THEIRS TO BEGIN WITH! AND THEY WERE NEVER TRULY YOURS TOO!— BUT I AM! I AM YOURS! I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN AND ALWAYS WILL BE YOURS! ❞
Pairing: Yandere Lohen x Childhood Friend &. Hopeless Romantic GN Reader.
Warnings: Lohen himself, Massive guilt tripping, Lohen being a scum to your dating pool and torturing and killing people behind your back, Also Lohen threatening to off himself, Blood, Betrayal, Minor Character Death. This is only a short synopsis.
Taglist: Depends!
Note: This is just the synopsis/premise I made. Lohen is an asshole. But I kind of fell for that asshole. I imagine him to be kind of submissive to your whims. As in totally up to fake a date with you and tease you for being too flustered over something that isn't real (it is to him). But also the same guy who'll legitimately stab a guy specifically 59 times just because he said exactly 59 words to capture your attention. He's that petty. But also pretty. Get what I mean? I write more yandere stuff here by the way.
Lohen doesn't know how to deal with his ever growing affection for his childhood sweetheart. Likewise, he doesn't know how to cope with the anticipatory fear of losing you even more. In his mind, all that ever existed, all that ever mattered was you, your feelings for him, and being together until both your hairs would turn gray.
It was fate. It was a promise you've entrusted to one another ever since you both were kids, hidden under your blankets, uncaring for the warmth smoldering your bodies, faces illuminated only by the lantern you've stolen from your father's desk.
"If I don't get married before thirty, then you'll be my husband instead, Lohen. So you've got to promise me, okay!?"
He agreed, mindless and bored, thinking it's all just some childish fantasy you'll soon forget.
But it never was. The prospect of marriage and love, and safety and security, to you, was as sacred as your friendship with the knight. The longer the seasons had passed, the more you were desperate to settle down, the more, it seems, Lohen himself had found entangled in a web of great jealousy watching your hopeful eyes sparkle at any person, any knight or any passing traveler who'd give you attention longer even a second.
He thought he'd buried that promise all those years ago. He focused more on the future, on staggering missions, basking on the screams of victims echoing through the night. The blood on his hands and the poison in his vials should've been enough to quell the developing affections seizing him of breath.
Lohen had never intended to have those words — "marry", "husband", and most importantly "you" —to be injected into his very thoughts like slithering snakes after all these years. Lohen had never wanted for somebody to become the sole purpose of him achieving his goals.
He had never wanted to be consumed by raging feelings for you.
But unlike the others, unlike the knights who'd stumble in their steps at the sight of him, unlike the enemies whose weapons would quiver in their grip, who'd befall on their knees and at his feet; all the spilled glory and the reckless fights he believed he loved the most would never come close to you—
In fact, they all come last.
All of them.
Like the heads of countless hilichurls he'd stomp under his boots. Like the limbs of potential lovers he'd twist and turn to ungodly angles, like their pallid skin he'd carve with his poisoned dagger. All followed by verbal warnings, a wave of assault on their ribs, until his boots would nearly crush their fragile, beating hearts. Enough to line their bloodshot eyes with those ugly, salty tears. Enough to trade a promise to never look at you no more. Let alone taste your name on their vile, bleeding tongues.
The days you complained about your talent for scaring off the people you like to a knowing Lohen were all dismissed by your valiant knight with a kiss of his teeth and assurance of another 'maybe next time'. A joke here, a smack on his shoulder there, and the flutter of your lighthearted laugh fluttering through the wind. A laugh he'd heard a thousand times, locked in his heart and replayed every time the distance between you two was far greater than the width of a fingertip. It was a laugh he wished was only reserved to him.
Deep down, he knew your smiles were just a facade. You'd been melting into the walls of your home, shoving yourself in corners and wondering what went wrong with you. Why nobody ever seemed to approach you anymore.
All those times, you find yourself running to Lohen. You joked he was the only one brave enough to tolerate your curse. That he may truly be the man you're going to marry. It's pitiful. You're pitiful and full of doubts he wished to wash away with his hungry lips.
Maybe he feels an ounce of regret for killing them all before you could even say yes to their offers of a date.
In truth, he doesn't at all.
Because Lohen doesn't mind being your only source of comfort.
Not when his head finds itself laying comfortably on your shoulders after every advice given, glimmering eyes and soulless smiles staring back at another of your failed suitors quivering under his gaze from a far distance.
Everybody knew about the Vice Captain's crush on you. Everybody knew backing off of your tail was the only option for survivability. It was an unspoken rule to never approach the infamous Lohen's beloved muse unless they want tragedy to befall upon them.
Everybody except for one unfortunate soul.
When there came a threat of a suitor — a lowly knight working under his faction even, who dared to ask for your hand, who dare kiss the very same fingers he'd lovingly held every since you two were nothing but reckless kids who only ever had each other, who dare stare into the eyes he'd dreamt of drowning in every night— who somehow slipped beneath his gaze, found itself courting you in your own home in front of your own family...
Lohen realized scaring off your admirers was nothing but an effort that bore no fruit as long as you were drawn to a scum's empty promises of a future.
Lohen realized all it took was one measly gun pointed at his skull, a dagger on his bleeding heart, the stench of blood seeping on carpeted floors, and the looming threat of your childhood best friend's death on your hands for you to swear your undying fealty to him...
After all, he couldn't bring himself to break his promise now, could he?
Just a small piece of writing I did, wondering how would the yanderes react to the reader. Originally I hope to make this a comedian but it failed I guess
>> May contain disturbing content such as manipulation and gaslighting, I might rewrite it as well since the result did not satisfy me.
PHAINON
this man is absolutely devastated that all this time you see him as a friend and not as a partner or you show interest in romance.
he would act as an understanding guy but deep down he is absolutely yearning for you.
every time he tried to initiate any romantic acts or intimacy, it would often be met with rejection or you seem to not understand the mood.
He is absolutely whipped for you but couldn't say the same thing for you.
He would not try to force you to do anything, but don't blame him–being in your presence makes him fall harder.
.MYDEI
Mydei would be respectful towards your distance because he himself is not a person who is awkward with affection and believing that the same goes for you.
But when he's been getting signs of you being uninterested in romance as well as seeing him as nothing but a friend is heartbreaking for him.
Despite all that, he would try to be respectful towards your boundaries. It hurts him more when you admit you see him as a friend.
But now he doesn't have to worry about an opponent or someone trying to steal you away because you are not interested in any way.
He would only express his affection by simply caressing your face with his hand and looking at you as if you are his world.
JINGYUAN
He already sees it from miles away, and manages to find a way to trick the system as well as you. Despite your relationship isn't romantic in your sense, because he expresses through words–many would assume you are married for being together for so long.
Many of the luofu would assume that you guys are already together thanks to Jing yuan capabilities of making that illusion. Not to mention, helping him raise yanqing
You assume that you and him are just close companions, he managed to keep up this facade for centuries.
Honestly it's like a divorce parenting to be honest, while you live separately from Jing yuan–yanqing would often rush towards your house to spend the weekend or go crying to you after a rough day.
Even though you are not interested, why don't you just let him live in his delusions.
DILUC
Diluc admits he has a hard time letting people in but that all changes after you come in, he is still closed off with people but he would be absolutely happy to see you because your presence makes his day happy.
You would often help him in angel share and paper work as an assistant which lifts up the burdens of the day.
He truly was in love with you, a type of love who would burn everything away to protect you and keep you with him.
Another phainon. Diluc would be devastated that you only see him as a friend and is not interested in any romance in the current moment, he did not get it but he has to come to terms with it since you keep rejecting it.
Diluc would still be in denial, but he would still take care of you making sure you are not in harm's way. If he can't have you, why not keep you close.
ALHAITHAM
You were his roommate yet act as a married couple, you know his schedule and would take care of everything. Honestly kaveh was shocked that you and alhaitham aren't married.
Honestly it seems like the border of a friendship and relationship have blurred due to both of you always seems busy and not questioning the other one whenever it's a relationship.
You asked whether or not he likes you and alhaitham stopped reading his book and looked at you saying that you guys are.
Unfortunately you shatter the domestic atmosphere because you replied to his answer saying that you are not interested in him or in any romantic relationship. You only saw him as a Friend, which sealed the coffin.
Although he himself is not interested in romantic relationships back then, he was already trying to take this relationship a shot after realizing it. So the daily routine continues with you unaware of what alhaitham is olanning
ZHONGLI
Throughout liyue rich history, as well as myth about their archon rex lapis. One of the crowd favorites are the geo archon with his beloved who is an adeptus.
Unfortunately that wasn't the case with you and zhongli, even though you have been on his side for thousands of years–you remain neutral with him.
Couldn't say the same thing because zhongli have fallen badly for you and wish to propose but it seems it's not working.
You tried to express your concern and annoyance towards your old friends about liyue keep calling you as rex lapis beloved even though you didn't show any interest in zhongli so you wonder how can the people liyue come to that conclusion.
Meanwhile, zhongli for centuries have been telling tales and carving artifacts of your love so that it can make an illusion of you guys being together.
The moment Vice Captain Lohen laid his eyes on you, it felt like everything shifted. You get promoted, you get more attention from him, and whenever there’s an expedition or a mission, he commands that you stay by his side and his only. Don’t even bother approaching the other knights or the Grandmaster, because after all, he’s your captain.
“Be quiet for me, hm? You can do that, right?” he whispers, brushing his lips against your earlobes. You nod your head, biting your lip to stop the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.
But oh, Lohen adores the sounds you make. Unfortunately, he has you pinned against the wall—at the back of the headquarters. You hear some Knights walking around, questioning where you two disappeared off to.
Lohen can’t help himself. Not when you looked so, so pretty, walking around with your new uniform, catching everyone’s attention—even the Honorary Knight. Of course, as your vice captain, Lohen can’t afford that right? You’re not allowed to slack off, not when everyone’s trying to flirt with you. So fucking annoying, he thinks. Another compliment from Varka, and he’s close to using everyone as his shooting mannequin.
You bit your lip so hard, it stings. “Awh, my baby’s lips are bleeding… i’ll help you wipe it off.”
His hands wrap tightly around your wrists, pinning them on top of your head. Lohen’s lips ghost against yours—he pauses before licking your bleeding lips, tasting and savoring them. You flinch, not because it hurts, but because the feeling of his tongue feels good
“That was meant to be a kiss, but oh well.” He kisses weirdly. Lohen chuckles, catching you off guard. “You taste great. Can I have more?”
This was a scenario that you’d experience every time you entered work. And it might be weird—to have an inappropriate yet complex relationship with your Vice Captain, knowing that if the Grandmaster catches you both, it’ll ruin your career. But Lohen adores you too much, willing to pick you over his work. It gets to a point where everyone in your squad is aware that he favours you over everyone. Many think it’s just a crush, a blooming love that’ll end with him confessing his love for you.
They’re unaware that Lohen’s “crush” on you isn’t a puppy crush meant to be treated as a joke. The crush he has on you is so intoxicating and overwhelming. But he doesn’t try to fix it. He lets his desire for you consume him whole because he believes that’s what love is like.
He watches over you every training like a hawk. Anyone daring to walk over to you, iniviting you to spar, or asking for your help, gets interrupted by his mocking comments. You can’t even walk on your own, without him following behind, asking: “Where do you think you’re going?”
And when Lohen helps you train, he’s behind you, pressing his chest against your back. A mischievous glint in his eyes, hands interlocking with yours—he excuses it as, “I’m just guiding you. Your… posture needs fixing. And your aim should be like this, okay?” His other hand finds its way to your hips, caressing them as he whispers instructions to you.
YOU HAVE REACHED THE MAXIMUM LEVEL OF FRIENDSHIP.
𝐄𝐕𝐄 🪽 —— first part of an eater's collection. columbina's ver next <3 then venti's!
He speaks your language - even if it's mostly stuttering, dropped items, and blushing silences.
Genshin Masterlist
I | Zhongli doesn’t rush. He courts you the old-fashioned way—soft gestures, consistent presence, and always treating you with a kind of reverence that makes your heart ache. He never overwhelms; he simply remains—until you finally look up and realize he’s always there.
II | Zhongli begins walking you home after your errands, offering his arm in that composed, quiet way of his. The first time you took it, you tripped over your own feet. He caught you and simply said, “Perhaps destiny wished to bring us closer.”
III | Zhongli starts showing up at your favorite tea shop and ordering your favorite blend before you even get there. When you arrive, it’s waiting for you at a table, with him sipping his own beside it. “I took the liberty,” he says softly, “hoping you’d join me.”
IV | You receive handwritten notes on the finest parchment—carefully folded and slipped between the pages of books you borrow from Liyue’s library. Some are quotes, some are compliments, and one simply reads:
“You are the most endearing constellation in my sky.”
^ 😭
V | Zhongli starts gifting you small trinkets with historical meaning. A hairpin once worn in the opera. A stone from a retired Adeptus shrine. Each time, he gives a long explanation to distract from your flustered expression.
VI | When you drop things in front of Zhongli now (which still happens regularly), he crouches with you to help gather them. He does not laugh, nor scold—he merely smiles and says, “It is as if the world wants you closer to the ground. But I would rather you rise.”
VII | Zhongli reads poetry aloud to you in parks or over tea, always in that soothing baritone. You try not to look at his lips, but fail miserably. He knows. He smiles just slightly more with each line.
VIII | Zhongli lets you ramble when you're nervous—never interrupting, never looking away. Even when you trail off with a whispered “Sorry, I talk too much,” he answers, “On the contrary. Your voice is the most gentle echo I have ever known.”
IX | One day, while walking beside Zhongli, you slip on a cobblestone. Instead of catching you this time, he tugs you gently into his side, steadying you with an arm around your waist.
“Perhaps,” he murmurs, “we should remain like this… just to prevent further accidents.”
X | Zhongli begins to lean closer when you speak, not out of necessity, but to encourage you to talk. You become a stammering mess. He remains entirely composed. His closeness is deliberate—a quiet nudge that says you are safe here.
XI | Zhongli touches you gently in small ways: brushing a leaf from your hair, offering his coat when you shiver, guiding your elbow through a crowd. Each touch is respectful but intimate, leaving your heart galloping for hours.
XII | Once, you shyly asked him why he was spending so much time with you. You thought maybe he felt pity. His eyes softened like melted amber as he replied, “My dear, do you pity a rare flower for blooming quietly in the shade? Or do you treasure it more for being hidden from the world?”
XIII | He once caught you rehearsing how to greet him behind a pillar. You were panicking, mumbling “Hi Zhongli” in ten different tones. He pretended not to hear and greeted you with a bow when you stepped out—though the ghost of laughter played in his golden eyes.
XIV | You once told him, in a moment of panicked vulnerability, “You’re so composed and elegant. I’m just… a mess.”
He took your hand, slowly, gently, and said:
“Even the tides are chaotic. Yet they shape the strongest stone. Never call your softness weakness, my dear. It has shaped me more than you know.”
You trip, stutter, and spill tea—but somehow, he finds it all… endearing.
Genshin Masterlist
I | The first time you met Zhongli, you spilled an entire tray of tea on his lap. You were mortified. He didn’t even flinch. Just calmly stood and said, “Ah, warm… but not unpleasant.”
II | You always get flustered when Zhongli looks at you for too long. His golden eyes are too intense, and every time he tilts his head thoughtfully at something you say, you start rambling and then forget what you were even talking about.
III | You once tripped over nothing while walking beside him, and he caught you by the waist with one hand—without even looking up from his book.
IV | Whenever you try to pour him tea, your hands shake. He gently covers your hand with his own, steadying it. “Allow me to assist,” he says, and your brain promptly short-circuits.
V | You bumped your head on a lantern trying to bow respectfully to him once. He blinked, concerned, but you brushed it off quickly—only to walk into a pole three seconds later.
VI | When you try to compliment him, it always comes out wrong. You meant to say “You look regal,” but somehow it came out as “You look… stone. Like a really handsome statue.”
He blinked. Then chuckled.
"Ahh, a handsome statue, you say."
VII | You constantly apologize for everything—even breathing too loud around him. He gently tells you, “There is no need to apologize for existing.”
VIII | You once tried to hide behind a potted plant when you saw him unexpectedly. He pretended not to notice, even though half your coat was still visible.
IX | You always try to walk ahead of him to avoid eye contact, but Zhongli’s long legs make that impossible. You end up power-walking, only to trip and have him calmly appear beside you in an instant.
X | Zhongli has, more than once, silently caught items you’ve knocked off shelves before they hit the ground. He never says anything. Just places them back with a little smile.
XI | When you try to hand him documents, your fingers always brush his, and every time it happens, you go red and whisper, “S-sorry!”
Zhongli always replies softly, “No apology needed. I rather enjoy the contact.”
XII | You once thought Zhongli was asking you on a date and panicked so hard you ran away mid-conversation. Turns out he was just asking if you liked grilled tiger fish. You avoided him for three days out of sheer embarrassment.
XIII | Zhongli notices how your hands tremble sometimes when you speak in front of others. He often stands close beside you in public, just enough to give you silent reassurance.
XIV | You tripped during a formal gathering and fell against his chest. Time stopped. Everyone looked. Zhongli gently helped you up and said calmly, “It’s alright. The floor can be quite deceptive.”
XIV | One day, you tried to surprise him with a handmade gift. You dropped it. Twice. It broke a little. You almost cried. But Zhongli said, “This carries your effort. It is more valuable than any Mora.”
XV | Zhongli enjoys your awkwardness. Truly. It reminds him of life’s imperfections—of how endearing humanity can be. When you ramble, he listens. When you stumble, he steadies.
XVI | You once nervously asked if you were “too much of a mess” to be around him. Zhongli looked at you, serious and soft, and said, “You are a beautiful kind of chaos. And I’ve lived long enough to know not all beauty is graceful.”
XVII | Zhongli never laughs at your clumsiness—unless you laugh first. Then he’ll smile, deep and low, and brush your hair behind your ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“You stumble,” he says, “but always into my heart.”
I | You always thought Zhongli was a little too elegant for a human. His knowledge of history? Impeccable. His way of speaking? Like a poem wrapped in velvet. But you just thought he was... eccentric. Until you overheard someone casually refer to him as the Geo Archon.
II | At first, you think it’s a joke. A metaphor, maybe. “Ah yes, Zhongli, so wise, he might as well be the Archon himself!” But the silence that follows is too heavy. And the way your tea nearly spills when your hands start trembling confirms it: they’re not joking.
III | You spiral quietly. You excuse yourself from the room, trip on the doorway, and make it halfway down the hallway before realizing your hands are shaking and you can’t remember how to breathe.
IV | He’s an Archon. An actual Archon.
Which means you’ve spilled tea on an Archon. Walked face-first into his chest—multiple times. Giggled nervously in front of him while snorting. Called his coat “swooshy.”
V | You try to act normal around The Archon the next time you see him. Unfortunately, “normal” looks like you staring at him without blinking and nearly walking into a lamp post.
VI | The Archon notices immediately. Of course he does. You’ve never acted this jumpy before, and you drop your cup twice in the span of five minutes. The second time, he gently takes it from your hands and says, “My dear, have I done something to unnerve you?”
VII | You blurt it out. The words tumble like tripping over your own feet: “You’reanArchonI’mjustaclumsyidiotIcalledyourhair‘fluffy’infrontofawholecrowdI’msosorry.”
VIII | Zhongli… chuckles. It’s a warm, low sound, and somehow that’s worse because it makes your cheeks burn. He calmly sets the cup down and replies, “That you’ve learned of my identity does not change who I am. I am still the man who enjoys walking you home and hearing your thoughts, however rambling they may be.”
IX | You try to apologize. Again. Profusely. For being awkward. For not realizing. For asking if Zhongli wanted a “rock-shaped cookie” that one time.
X | Zhongli insists on explaining it all, slowly and patiently—how he chose to live as Zhongli, the man, not as Morax the Archon. He watches you closely while he speaks, as if gauging whether you’ll bolt at any moment.
XI | You ask a million questions. Clumsily. One of them is, “Does this mean you’re like… really old?” The silence afterward is deafening, until Zhongli hums thoughtfully and says, “Would you think less of me if I were?”
You shake your head hard, flustered again. “No! No, you’re just… wow. And you’ve been patient with me all this time.”
He replies, “I was not being patient. I was learning you.”
XII | You feel incredibly self-conscious for a while after that. Every move, every awkward stumble feels magnified in front of someone so ancient and composed. But Zhongli always catches your gaze, as if to say: You’re still my favorite part of the day.
XIII | Eventually, you stop worrying about what Zhongli is and start seeing him again for who he is—the man who holds open doors, listens to your rambling about birds, and remembers your favorite pastries. The title Archon becomes a background hum to the affection you’ve built.
Still, once in a while, when you trip over nothing or spill something on yourself, you mutter, “Archon above…”
Zhongli always smiles softly and replies, “Indeed.”
You were assigned to the Knights because of your “potential.” No one told you what that actually meant.
1. You show up to the headquarters three hours early, standing at attention in front of a fancy looking door until a certain captain walks by and tells you the door leads to a broom closet. “Darling… that’s the broom storage.”
2. During your first patrol, Kaeya is walking beside you, explaining the route, and you suddenly trip over absolutely nothing. He catches you effortlessly, raises an eyebrow, and whispers: “Falling for me already?”
3. You get so flustered when he talks to you, you call him “Captain Sir Mister Kaeya”. He absolutely loves it. “Captain Sir Mister Kaeya… I could get used to that, sweetheart.”
4. You have no idea how to flirt, so you just stand stiffly and say things like: “Your hair is nice. It looks like… the night. With… strands. Like silk. Of...moon” Kaeya just grins like he’s being serenaded.
5. You once brought your sword to the kitchen after hearing it was weapon maintenence day and asked ( very seriously ), "Where is the dish soap for blades?" Kaeya nearly cried laughing.
6. He starts making it a habit to ‘randomly’ appear wherever you are during your patrols, under the excuse of 'checking up on the new recruits' even though your fellow new recruits tell you he has never showed up during their partrols.
7. Your first time helping during an emergency, you panicked and threw your sword....at a bush. Kaeya still teases you about it- "Captain Kaeya, I thought I saw it move my way! I just listended to my instinct!"
"Your instinct told you to throw you only weapon to you enemy and leave yourself completely defenseless?"
8. You tried to write a report for the first time and used the phrase “hostile nature entity” instead of “slime.”
Kaeya framed it. It’s on his office wall.
9. One time you forgot to knock and accidentally walked into Kaeya’s office while he was changing shirts.
You froze.
“Would you like a chair, or are you going to stand there and take notes?”
Having snowball fights with Capitano but it's just you throwing them at him.
It started with you accidentally throwing one at him. And after you did, you froze. The man towers over you and when he looked down from his coat where the snowball hit to the source, your heartbeat rose.
But he simply walked away.
You were his arranged bride and despite being complete strangers, he never forbade you from anything. He let you have your way and free will.
After that harmless encounter, you saw that he wasn't exactly the cold-hearted man you thought he was. It was hard to tell when a mask concealed his emotions.
So now whenever he passes through his snow covered garden, a ball of snow hits him out of nowhere. And when he looks back, he sees your snow covered hair and that cheeky smile, waiting for him to throw back a snowball.
But once again he walks away without making any remarks.
All through winter this continued whenever he passed through the garden.
He would entertain your thoughts only to leave you disappointed by disappearing without a word.
Winter was almost coming to an end and the snow would disappear in a few days, you gave up your hope.
Thud.
Something cold and hard hits your back. You turn around to see the Captain standing. There was snow on your cloak.
Did he just throw a snowball at you?
You smile so big and giggle while throwing another one back at him.
All this time unbeknownst to you of course, he returned your antics with a smile hidden underneath the mask.
And seeing your big smile today, then and there, maybe it wasn't wrong for the Captain to be wanting to see you happy everyday.
no because what actually happened to good angst fics/any other form of literature??
back in my time we had ACTUAL gut wretching, pain inducing, i-feel-like-im-gonna-throw-up, soul crushing, im-actually-sobbing, toe tickling angst/no comfort
when you're on your period and accidentally stained their sheets when you woke up from a nap. but the real problem was, those sheets you stained on were precious to them.
ft. Kinich, Sethos, Wanderer, Kazuha, Lyney
cw: fem! reader, small angst, mentions of modern au in Sethos's part, comfort, for my Girlies out there who's on their period. (me)
word count: 3,980
KINICH
You’d been with Kinich long enough to know that things didn’t come free. Not love, not attention, and certainly not patience. His affection was real. of that you were sure. but it had always come with terms, even if he didn’t say them aloud. Good behavior. Emotional availability. Gratitude.
And right now, curled up in the middle of his sheets, you felt like you'd broken all of those silent rules.
Your stomach throbbed with dull cramps, your limbs were heavy, and your body felt grossly warm despite the air conditioner humming in the corner. But all of that was nothing compared to the mortifying sight of red, stark, unforgiving red. on Kinich’s clean white sheets.
It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t your fault. You still sat there frozen, legs pulled to your chest and your hands balled tightly into the fabric of his blanket, eyes brimming with tears that wouldn’t stop coming.
Because you knew Kinich. Or at least, you thought you did.
He wasn’t cruel. No, never cruel. But he was exacting. Prone to disappointment. Affectionate, yes. but sometimes with an edge. He was the kind of man who gave gifts and then expected your undivided attention. The kind of man who smiled when you were sweet but would withdraw like a tide if you weren’t exactly what he needed.
So what was this, then? What would this cost you?
You didn’t hear him walk in. You only noticed when his shadow fell across the bed, when you flinched and immediately reached for the blanket to hide the stain.
“Hey,” Kinich’s voice was low, unreadable. His golden eyes flicked to the spot you were trying desperately to conceal, then to your visible panicked face. tear-streaked, trembling.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered before he could speak. “I didn’t mean to..It just started. I didn’t think—”
You couldn’t finish. Your throat closed around the panic in your chest, and when you blinked, the tears spilled over. You buried your face in your hands, hating how small you felt, how ashamed. You weren’t just scared of the stain, you were scared of him. Of how he'd look at you now. Of what he’d say. Of whether he’d sigh and step back and wait for you to apologize harder.
But he didn’t.
You felt the dip of the mattress first. Then a pause. A silence so thick it nearly choked you. And then—
“…You’re crying,” Kinich said gently, as if it confused him. “Why are you crying?”
You couldn’t look at him.
“I..I ruined your bed,” you choked out. “I know you hate messes. I know you don’t like, You’ve always been so particular, and I just— I know you’re going to be mad. So just say it, okay? Just say it, and I’ll fix it. I’ll wash it, I’ll stay out of your way, I’ll..”
“Stop.”
His voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t cold. It was… soft. Almost disbelieving.
“Stop,” he said again, firmer this time. “You think I’m going to be mad at you for bleeding?”
You sniffled, not knowing how to answer.
Kinich sighed, and then, surprisingly, he reached out, cupping the back of your head and gently drawing you toward his chest.
“I’m not mad,” he murmured. “I’m not anything but sorry that you thought I would be.”
You hesitated tensely at first, but let yourself fall against him, your body folding into his warmth. You cried, silently this time, into the collar of his shirt. Kinich didn’t push or pry. He just ran his hand through your hair, his other arm curled protectively around your shoulders.
After a long moment, he said quietly, “Have I really made you feel like I’d blow up over something like this?”
You didn’t answer. He already knew.
His jaw tightened. “That’s on me,” he whispered. “I’m… still learning, okay? Still trying to unlearn all the bullshit I thought love had to look like.”
You felt his hand pause at your scalp, thumb pressing gently against your skin.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said. “I don’t want you crying in my bed thinking I’m going to punish you for being human.”
Your tears were slowing now. Your shoulders stopped shaking. You could feel him there, really feel him. solid and real and steady.
“I’ll clean the sheets,” he said softly. “It’s not a big deal. And next time, I’ll make sure there’s a heating pad in here, and extra meds, and maybe some chocolate if you want it. Or soup. Or just silence. Whatever you need.”
You lifted your head slowly, looking up at him through blurry lashes.
“Why are you being so nice?” you whispered, voice cracking.
Kinich smiled, brushing your cheek with his thumb.
“Because I love you,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
And maybe it was.
legends say Ajaw is still in timeout~~
SETHOS
You knew Sethos wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who yelled.
He wasn’t passive-aggressive, didn’t slam doors, didn’t throw guilt trips. He didn’t keep score or act like affection was something you had to earn. Your relationship with him was healthy. safe, even. He loved you loud and full, with bright eyes and loud laughter and open arms. He held you like you were sunlight. You knew all this.
But still, when you stared at the growing red blotch on the dark sheets. the very same ones Cyno had gifted him last month, you felt the air disappear from your lungs.
Your stomach twisted. The cramps were nothing compared to the guilt curling in your chest. You’d only meant to nap while waiting for him to finish class. You hadn’t even realized your period had started. But now?
You glanced down at the sheets again.
Blood. Not a little, either. The kind that would stain, the kind that would cling to fabric and refuse to be washed out completely. The kind that ruined things.
Cyno had given him those sheets after a tough semester. a rare gesture from someone as blunt and emotionally reserved as him. Sethos had been so touched. He even joked it was one of the best gifts he'd ever gotten from Cyno, second only to that ridiculously expensive pen set he swore he never used but still proudly displayed.
And now you’d ruined them.
Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. Your hands trembled as you reached to pull the blanket over the stain, heart thudding with the kind of panic you thought you’d grown out of. You weren’t scared of Sethos, not really..but you’d seen him get flustered before, defensive even, when people touched the things he held dear.
A book Kaveh lent him got rained on once, and he didn’t speak for half an hour. When Tighnari accidentally spilled soda on his favorite hoodie, he’d spent the next day obsessively rewashing it. He wasn’t angry, just… deeply bothered.
And this? Sheets from Cyno?
You didn't even hear the door open.
“Babe, I’m back! sorry I took so long, Cyno stopped me and-” Sethos’s words froze the second he stepped into the room and saw your face.
You weren’t fast enough to wipe the tears away.
His entire body shifted. You saw it. his carefree posture straightened, his voice dropped, and in an instant, he was kneeling beside the bed, hands hovering like he didn’t want to overwhelm you.
“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes wide and warm and searching. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?”
“I-I didn’t know it started,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t even feel it, I was just sleeping and...”
Your voice broke entirely as you moved the blanket aside and showed him what you were so desperately trying to hide.
Sethos blinked. Then tilted his head.
“…That’s it?” he asked.
You frowned. “W-What?”
“I thought you stubbed your toe or something,” he said with a light, airy breath, ruffling his own hair. “Or like, your mom called you and said the cat died. I was ready to go full emergency mode.”
“But the sheets..” you whispered, staring down again. “Cyno gave them to you. They were a gift. I messed them up. I know how much you care about that kind of thing, I know you-”
Sethos placed both his hands on either side of your face, tilting your head up gently until your teary eyes met his smiling ones.
“I was literally going to change the sheets today anyway,” he said. “They were due for a wash.”
“But—”
“Hey,” he cut in softly. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”
The words made you break entirely. The tears that had been threatening to fall came in full now, your shoulders trembling as you finally let yourself feel it. shame, relief, exhaustion, all of it.
Sethos didn’t flinch. He wrapped you in his arms without hesitation, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing at all. His cheek rested against your temple, one hand stroking slow circles on your back.
“I hate that you were sitting here crying all alone,” he murmured. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve run home in two seconds.”
“I didn’t want you to be mad,” you sniffled into his shirt. “You liked those sheets.”
“I like you more,” he said immediately. “Sheets don’t have dimples and a cute nose and the kind of laugh that makes my knees weak.”
You let out a shaky laugh, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
“In fact,” he said, drawing back just enough to cup your cheeks again, “now that you mention it, I do feel kinda betrayed.”
Your heart stopped. “What?”
He narrowed his eyes playfully, lips twitching. “Yeah. I’ve been sleeping on those sheets for weeks. Why didn’t I get to be the one who bled on them dramatically?”
“…Sethos—”
“Do you know how cool that would be?” he continued with a mock-serious expression. “I could’ve woken up like, ‘Oh no… it’s happening. I’m ascending.’ You totally robbed me of my vampire main character arc.”
You stared at him in disbelief, and then you snorted. Loud. Ugly. The laugh kind that burst out uninvited.
He grinned, victorious. “There she is.”
You pushed at his chest half-heartedly, but he held you close, the teasing fading into something softer.
“I love you,” he said, voice sincere. “And nothing you do will ever make me love you less. Got it?”
You nodded against him, the last of the tears drying against his shoulder.
“Now,” he added, “get comfy. I’m gonna clean this up, make us tea, and then we’re watching whatever cheesy rom-com you want. No arguments.”
You smiled as he stood up and kissed your forehead, already tugging off the stained sheets without a single complaint.
Sethos was sunshine. Always had been. And today, you were thankful he shone even on the days you felt too messy to deserve the light.
WANDERER
Your relationship with Wanderer wasn’t toxic.
But it wasn’t close to those romance animes like HoriMiya.
You didn’t fight. You didn’t scream or throw cruel words. But there was a distance. a fog that never seemed to lift no matter how close you sat beside him, no matter how many nights you fell asleep with your face buried in the curve of his neck.
Wanderer loved you, probably. But he didn’t say it. He showed it in strange ways. holding your hand when no one was looking, brushing your hair behind your ear only when he thought you were asleep, staring too long when he thought you wouldn’t notice.
So when you sat up from the bed, groggy and warm, only to see the small red stain blooming across the pale cream sheets, your blood gone unnoticed during the night. your heart stopped.
Not because of the stain.
But because Nahida made those sheets.
He never told you that openly. You only heard it once, in passing. when you complimented how soft they were, and he muttered that they were custom, something the Lesser Lord gave him once during a quiet moment.
“Made from Sumeru cotton. Rare,” he’d said. “I didn’t ask her to, but she said I never slept well. So she thought I should try.”
He said it like it didn’t matter.
But his fingers had clenched a little tighter around the corner of the sheet, like it did.
And now they were ruined.
You sat frozen, staring. The blood was still fresh. It wasn’t a lot, but on that delicate, expensive fabric, it looked… violent.
Your first instinct was to scrub it out. The second was to cry. The third; terrible, frantic, was to lie. Pretend it was yours, something you spilled from a wound. Pretend you hadn’t touched them at all.
But before you could do any of that, the bathroom door creaked open.
He walked out slowly, towel around his neck, hair damp and tousled. And the moment his gaze flicked to you, then to the bed. he stopped.
Silence.
No expression on his face. Just stillness. Still enough to make your ears ring.
“I..” your voice cracked. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to. It must’ve started while I was asleep, I didn’t feel it, I—”
You bit your tongue before it spiraled further. You hated how easily your voice trembled around him.
He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, eyes trained on the sheets. You watched his jaw clench for half a second. Then, a sigh. Tired. Heavy.
“...Why are you panicking?” he finally said, tone unreadable.
You looked at him, startled. “Because they mattered to you.”
“And?” he asked, voice a little sharper now. “You think I’m going to throw a tantrum over a stain?”
You flinched. “No, I just… I know how much you keep to yourself. I didn’t want to touch something that wasn’t mine.”
Something flickered in his expression. Barely there. Then gone.
“They were mine,” he said quietly. “But you’re in my bed, aren’t you?”
You blinked.
“That means they’re yours, too.”
Your throat tightened. “But they were from Nahida. I know how close you are to her. I know you don’t sleep well without them.”
He walked closer.
“I didn’t sleep well, until you started being here,” he said, almost bitterly. “Those sheets helped a little. You helped more.”
You stared at him, heart thudding. He avoided your gaze.
“Stop assuming I’m going to yell every time you mess something up,” he muttered. “I’m not… him. I’m not that version of me anymore.”
Your breath caught. He never talked about who he used to be.
But today, he did.
You sat in silence as he stepped past you and began pulling the sheets off the bed, moving with quiet efficiency. There was a tightness in his jaw, but no anger. He didn’t throw them. Didn’t scoff. Just peeled them off and folded them in his arms like it was just another chore.
“I’ll ask her if she can make another set,” he said, offhandedly. “She’ll probably tease me. She’s been waiting for something like this.”
Your lip trembled. “I really am sorry.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve told you sooner, but—”
“I know.”
You hesitated. “You’re not mad?”
Wanderer sighed again, and this time, it sounded less tired. He turned toward you slowly, stepping closer until your knees brushed.
Then, in the softest voice he could manage:
“I’ve done worse. You could spill ink, set something on fire, bleed through every expensive thing I own. I’d still pick you over any of it.”
You looked up at him, startled.
He avoided your eyes again.
“And anyway,” he added, deadpan, “you already ruined my peace. Might as well ruin my sheets too.”
You laughed. quiet, watery.
He finally met your gaze. And this time, you saw it. Not pity. Not irritation. Just a soft, tired kind of affection that looked almost like-
Forgiveness.
And maybe something deeper.
He reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, then mumbled:
“Next time, just wake me up. I’ll help you wash them.”
in conclusion: so yes, your relationship might not be like Horimiya or any romance animes out there. but..that doesn't mean your love for eachother isn't real.
KAZUHA
Your relationship with Kazuha was perfect.
Not in the unrealistic, fairytale sense. But in the kind that felt safe. Gentle. His voice never raised, his touch never harsh. Arguments. rare as they were, always ended with soft apologies and warm arms around you, wrapped in mutual understanding.
He loved you with patience. With poetry. With the kind of love that felt like early morning light slipping through curtains.
So why were you spiraling?
You stared at the red blot on the pale sheets. Just a small mark, really. The kind that would probably wash off if treated quickly.
But your brain wasn’t thinking in terms of laundry detergent.
It was spiraling. fast, irrational.
What if he minds?
What if he doesn’t say anything but feels differently?
What if he never sees the bed the same way again?
What if this changes something?
What if it makes me… ugly to him?
You gripped your hands tightly in your lap, already too emotional, already fighting back tears. You didn’t want to ruin anything. Not with Kazuha. Especially not with Kazuha.
You were so lost in your head that you didn’t notice when the door opened.
He stepped into the room quietly, holding a cup of warm tea in his hands. one of those sleepy blends he always offered you when you were in pain.
But the moment he noticed your hunched posture, the flushed embarrassment on your cheeks, and your trembling fingers… he paused.
“Beloved?” he asked softly. “What’s wrong?”
You didn’t respond at first. Couldn’t. You just stared at the sheets, then at your lap.
“…I stained them,” you finally whispered. “The sheets. I didn’t mean to. It happened while I was sleeping.”
Kazuha blinked once, and followed your gaze to the small mark on the bed.
Then, quietly, calmly. he walked forward, set the mug down, and sat beside you. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough that his presence could be felt, grounding you.
“Is that what’s troubling you?” he asked gently.
You didn’t answer. You were waiting for something. Disappointment. A sigh. Even just a look.
But none came.
Instead, he let a few seconds pass, then said softly, “The fabric is only fabric, my love. Easily washed. Easily replaced.”
Your throat tightened. “I know. I just… I got scared. I didn’t want you to be disgusted. Or uncomfortable. Or… not see me the same.”
Kazuha’s gaze turned toward you, soft and steady.
“You stained a piece of cloth,” he said. “Not our bond.”
You turned to him slowly, eyes wide.
He smiled. “You are not something to be ashamed of. Nor is this. It’s human. And I fell in love with you fully aware of what me and you are getting ourselves into.”
He reached for your hand, thumb brushing along your knuckles.
“Besides,” he added, almost teasing, “do you think I’d value cotton over the person who brings warmth to every night I lie here?”
You let out a small, wet laugh.
He smiled wider, then pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Come. We’ll change the sheets together. And after that, we can lie back down. I’d rather hold you than worry about anything else.”
You leaned into him, tears quietly slipping down your cheeks. not from shame anymore, but relief.
Because Kazuha never needed perfection. Just honesty.
And right now, you knew there was no one gentler to bleed around than him.
LYNEY
Lyney was the sweetest man you knew.
He made you laugh when you felt like crying, brought little surprises from every market trip, kissed your cheeks like you were the only magic he’d ever believe in. and he let you be. Just be. Loud or quiet, soft or guarded, he saw through it all and made you feel safe.
Even Lynette, usually expressionless and unreadable, had smiled more often ever since you entered their lives. Sometimes, she’d even nudge Lyney gently after a show, eyes glittering with quiet fondness, and murmur, “You’re lucky.”
You believed it too. Things were good. Really good.
You even caught yourself thinking, maybe it can last forever.
Until today.
Until you woke up and felt that ugly, sticky, painful sensation in your lower abdomen. The ache was sharp, like a low thrum behind your bellybutton, and it made you curl inwards on the bed.
You blinked groggily, disoriented for a moment, only to sit up and see it.
A bright, unmistakable stain across the middle of Lyney’s crisp, white sheets.
Your stomach dropped.
Panic came first. Then guilt. Then shame, because how could something so natural still make you feel so filthy?
You remembered Lyney telling you once that these sheets were from Fontaine’s famous fabric vendor. a gift from Freminet, who rarely ever gifted anything. They were soft, expensive, and something Lyney clearly treasured.
Now ruined. By you.
He had just gone out to check on his props for a show, saying he’d be back in half an hour.
You had thought about quickly changing the sheets, maybe even sneaking them into the wash before he noticed. but your cramps were making movement hard, and every second that passed only made your eyes sting more.
So when the doorknob turned, and Lyney walked in humming, your panic reached its peak.
You clutched the sheet tightly in your hands, your back hunched, tears already pooling in your lashes.
He paused the moment he stepped inside, instantly sensing the shift in the air. He saw the way you didn’t meet his eyes, the way your hands trembled, the raw redness in your face.
“…Chérie?” His voice was softer now. Concerned.
You still couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even look at him. You just whispered, brokenly, “I’m sorry…”
But instead of asking why, instead of being confused or demanding answers, Lyney crossed the room in three steps and gently took the sheets from your grip.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t scowl. He didn’t say a single word of disappointment.
In fact, he smiled.
“Mon chéri,” he said, brushing a few tears from your cheek with his thumb. “I have a twin sister. Do you think a little stain like this bothers me? When I’ve already dealt with Lynette in the past?”
Your lips trembled. “…But these were Freminet’s gift—”
“And Freminet will survive,” Lyney interrupted softly, voice full of light. “You didn’t destroy a castle, amour. You had an accident. A human one.”
You finally looked at him then, really looked. and what you saw was nothing but tenderness.
“You’re in pain, aren’t you?” he asked, glancing briefly at the way you held your abdomen.
You gave a small nod, lip wobbling.
“Then let’s focus on that first.” He stood up, folded the stained sheets as if they were no big deal, and set them gently aside. “I’ll run you a warm bath, find your favorite lounge set, and we’ll cuddle on the couch. We can burn a candle, drink tea, or just listen to soft music. Whatever you want.”
You were crying again, but for a very different reason now.
Lyney cupped your cheeks, leaned in, and kissed your forehead. “This doesn’t change how I see you. If anything, I’m glad you trust me enough to feel safe here.”
You hiccupped a laugh. “I was panicking.”
He grinned. “I figured. That’s why I brought your favorite cookies.”
You blinked. “You…?”
“I always bring them after prop checks,” he teased, reaching into his pocket and revealing a small pack with a bow. “Magic may be something I love, but making you smile is my favorite trick.”
And just like that, you did.
Because Lyney didn’t just love the best parts of you.
He loved all of you. even on the days you couldn’t love yourself.
˚✧ ﾟneuvillette x reader, wriothesley x reader (separate) ˚✧ ﾟ
(they say something mean to reader when reader tries to surprise them)
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
neuvillette
The chief of justice often feels the pressure of his role. Lately the cases have been weighing heavy on him, more so than usual.
The amount of unattended cases and trials to come up only makes the judge more anxious, more stressed, and worst of all more irritable.
He hasn’t been taking care of himself, often prioritizing his job over his health and it breaks your heart. You’ve caught him taking naps in his office when you’d stop by to visit so you thought of making him something to help him during his times when he sleeps.
You're a local seamstress, but you have a good hand for crocheting as well. You often make small crochet plushies for the orphans and melusines so you thought a small pillow would work wonders for nevi when he takes naps in his office.
The iudex is sat at his desk reading over one of the many cases piled up next to him. His migraine forms as he sighs, taking a sip of cool water in hopes to somewhat ease it.
He hears a soft knock at his door and ignores it at first. The people he works with know not to bother the chief when he has this much work to do. but the knock is heard again making him sigh, putting the documents down.
“Come in.” He calls out, seeing your head peek in, a soft smile already playing on your lips.
“Hello love!” you beam, you love visiting your husband at work. You don’t get to see him home too often, you take any chance you get to drop by.
“Hello,” he greets back, mouth forming a straight line. “Is something the matter?” He asks, wasting no time.
“No, I just wanted to drop off something for you.” You smile, feeling how off he was right away. He must be so drained you think, trying to dismiss the uninterested tone in his voice.
You pull a small bag from behind your back and walk up to him, holding it out for him to grab.
His face remains neutral and you feel small under his gaze, regretting interrupting his work.
It’s strange though, he usually always welcomes you with a warm smile, ushering you in to spend time with him. Today was different.
He begrudgingly moves his chair back and eyes the bag.
What’s so important that you have to interrupt his work?
He grabs the bag from you and you pull your hand back as he peeks in, moving the wrapping paper aside.
His hand comes up to the bridge of his nose when he sees a small pillow with blue and white lace trimming at the edges in the bag.
He doesn't know what he expected and he doesn’t understand why he feels so bothered but he can’t help it.
“Is this all?” He asks, putting the wrapping paper back on top, handing you the bag back like it was something that made him upset.
“I made it for you. You often take breaks and sleep in your office so I thought-“
“That’s the problem you know.” He cuts you off before you can finish, making you step back a bit.
“You think what you do will make things better for people or you know what people need.” He brushes off the small gift like nothing.
“I just wanted you to get proper rest, you look tired. I know you haven’t been getting much sleep because of all the cases and-“
“And you’re the one stopping me from finishing them right now, right? I don’t need you always checking up or stopping by when you feel like it. Some of us take our jobs seriously. It’s suffocating having you stop by everyday. I need space and time to do my own job alone. Thank you very much.” He’s almost out of breath by the end of it, his eyes narrow at you, you feel what the verdicts of the cases feel when he judges them.
You don’t know what to say. You feel small under his gaze and he doesn’t even flinch, after all he’s said he stands his ground.
“Forgive me for worrying in the slightest, it won’t happen again.” Your voice falls flat, you dig your nails in your palm to stop the sting in your eyes as you turn to leave.
Reaching the door you half expect him to stop you, apologize or something but it never happens. You step outside and feel your tears drop, lowering your head from gazes around you.
You head to your home with a heavy heart. You feel utterly stupid. You should’ve seen the signs, you knew he was on edge because of work and you walked right into it like a spider's web.
You reach your house feeling drained. You slowly make your way to your room to continue working on small plushies for the orphans to take your mind off the harsh words you hear earlier. Throwing the small pillow you made into the trash before you get to work. He doesn’t want it and neither do you.
Neuvillette lets out a content sigh. He’s done his work, more than half of the cases he’s reviewed and he feels better. Enough to call it a day and head home somewhat earlier than normal. Maybe he can catch a meal with you, something he hasn’t done in ages.
He opens the door to your shared home and takes note of how quiet it is. Is it usually this quiet when you’re alone?
The living room was dim, the only source of light was flooding the from the cracks of your shared bedroom.
He hangs his coat and makes his way to your shared bedroom. He wants nothing more than to spend time with you.
You hear your bedroom door creak but don’t bother to turn around, already knowing who it was. You made a promise to yourself to stop being overbearing with him, he told you it’s suffocating, you never want him to feel that way with you.
He feels his lips tug upwards a bit at the sight of you. You were stitching some plushies, your work always so beautiful and delicate.
“Hello my love.” He speaks softly, he knows he acted out of place earlier but he wants to make it up to you. He knows you only care, that just the kind of sweet genuine person you are.
“Hello.” You welcome him barely above whisper, not looking up at him. You lay in bed crocheting a small plushie.
“Are you going to drop those off at the orphanage tomorrow?” He asks, heart filling with utter adoration at the sight of you making your beautiful plushies.
“Yes.” You answer, nodding your head as you cut the end of the yarn off.
“Would you like me to assist you?” He asks, you feel like it’s a trick question. After all he has told you today he asks this?
“No need. You have work, I can go with Navia.” You decline, he stands there for a second before clearing his throat.
“Why of course, please send my regards when you stop by.” He asks and you nod.
What’s wrong? You’ve never declined his offers of helping you. Were you not feeling well?
“I’m going to wash up dear, afterwards I’ll make us something to eat.” His voice is much softer than earlier. You don’t understand what he wants anymore. It’s confusing.
While Neuvillette was showering you warmed up his portion of the dinner you made, setting it up on his bedside table. You were hurt by his words but you still want him to eat.
After preparing his meal on his bedside table, you grab your pillow and an extra blanket heading to the living room couch. As much as his words hurt you, you still want to hold him, talk to him and have him close but he doesn’t want that. He made it more than clear in his office.
After Neuvillette’s shower, he’s greeted with a meal on his nightstand. He looks around the room and notices you're not in bed anymore. He catches sight of your plushie on your nightstand and thinks you went to use the other restroom.
He gets changed and smiles at the meal you made for him. Always helping him when he knows you work just as hard as he does, if not even harder than he does. You’re passionate about your work and he adores that side of you.
He buttons up his shirt and sits in bed, looking at the clock. It's been over 15 minutes since he’s gotten out. Why weren't you back in bed?
He stands and walks over to your side of the bed where the plushie lays on the nightstand. From the corner of his eye a blue and white lace trimming catches his attention and he looks down at the small bin next to your side of the bed.
He reaches in and pulls out the small pillow you had brought to his office earlier that day, he feels his heart sink. Remembering his harsh words and how he gave it back to you without a second thought. He feels guilty.
You threw this beautiful pillow away because of his foolish outburst. He feels like a fool for talking to you in such a way. Your guarded attitude made more sense now that he realizes it.
He clutches the small pillow in his hold and looks to your side of the bed, noticing your pillow missing.
His legs move on their own, opening your room door greeted with the dark living room only a candle being your source of light.
He can see you laying on the couch and he feels his eyes burn.
As he nears you he hears you crying and his heart tugs at the sound.
He wouldn’t dare let you sleep alone, ever.
He says nothing as he turns to you and you quickly turn away to hide your tears.
He kneels down a bit. Arms circling under your legs and head, picking you up with ease as he grabs your pillow before making his way back to your room.
You feel more tears spill. What was all this? What does he want?
He stops in the room after closing the door behind him. The only sound to be hard was your sniffling before you heard rain, rain droplets hitting your window.
He holds you closer, tighter in his hold.
“My love, I’m terribly sorry for my words that have caused you to feel the need to distance yourself. I’m sorry I disregarded your gift for me. I will cherish it forever.” He whispers, his legs moving once again making his way to your side of the bed.
He softly lays you down before standing again, you see the pillow you thee away on your nightstand and feel more tears spill.
He turns, he knows he should give you space, give you time alone and as much as he wants to hold you he has to respect your boundaries.
Before he can get too far he feels a hug in his wrist, he feels his own tears spill.
Your heart, which is too kind and forgiving, knows him too well. He truly doesn’t deserve you.
“Please don’t leave.” You whisper, he only nods, who’s he to say no? After all he’s done today he’d be a fool.
He climbs into bed, arms immediately grabbing you, laying you on top of him as the rain outside gets louder.
“My love, I apologize for my actions. Please find it in your heart to forgive a fool like me, not right now but when you can.” He can only whisper, if he speaks any louder he’s scared he’ll cry more.
You nod your head as it lays on his chest “yes my love, I do.” you hug him, if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be here right now you tell yourself. The fact that he’s here right now shows so much.
You hear his heartbeat steady and the rain outside subside. Knowing he’s calmed down, feeling your eyes grow heavy. Neuvillette holds you closer, making a promise to himself and you to never act out of place like that again. Not with you, who’s so caring and giving he’ll cherish you forever along with the pillow you made for him today.
wriothesley
The duke is in charge of many things, running the fortress of meropide is one. Dealing with troublesome inmates to make sure they know their place and meetings that consist of various things for him to arrange.
Wriothesley was making his way back from a meeting with Neuvillette. He has asked him about an inmate, asking him to bring him up for further questioning, giving him the inmates name and number before he left.
Neuvillette had given him a small paper with the number and name. Wriothesly had memorized it just after a few glances at the small paper. But during his busy day out he has misplaced it. And as the day went on he was worried he’d forget.
He didn’t want to trouble Neuvillette with another meeting to give him the number again so he’s been repeating it while making his way to his office.
You decided to bring Wrio some food and tea. Upon arriving at his office you found it empty and decided to surprise him for when he comes back. Sitting on the small couch by his desk, setting up his meal for when he comes.
You often have one or two days out of the month where you catch up and eat lunch together in his office. It's one of the ways that you get to see him more besides when he comes home to sleep.
No one dared to stop the duke as he made his way to his office, the look on his face alone was screaming don’t approach me right now.
You hear his office door open and hear his footsteps echoing up the staircase, you stand up and wait by the edge of the stairs happy to see him.
He doesn’t even look your way when he reaches the top, instead he brushes past you. Mumbling some numbers under his breath.
“Wrio.” You call out softly, making him whip his head back. He didn’t even notice you were here, let alone see you standing right by him.
“What’re you doing here?” He asks, it comes out harsher than he intends.
“I brought you food! We haven’t had lunch in a while, I made your favorite too. It’s been sometime since we’ve sat down and had a home cooked meal.” You beam, smiling at him and pointing to his desk behind him where you set up the food.
“That’s great, but right now isn’t the time.” He brushes you off. Walking to the cabinet where all the inmates' files are repeating the number in his head still.
“I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but you tend to look over your health because of work. This can help you focus on your work more! I even brought your favorite tea to go with it.” You walk to his desk and pour the hot tea into his favorite cup.
“Just take a second and eat, take care of yourself and-“
“Do you ever stop?” He feels his grip on the cabinet tighten as he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.
You stop talking and look over at him.
“I’m sorr-“
“I have an office to do my work, for peace and quiet as I do so. No one has the right to waltz in here and think they can have a tea party and talk their heads off while I work.” He slowly turns to you.
You only swallow, not knowing how to respond.
“You know I have more important things to do than have a meal with you. You talk so much, too much sometimes and you don’t know when to stop and it’s bothersome. Learn how to stop at times and not bother people when they’re working, yeah?” He scolds, roughly shoving the cabinet closed.
You look down at the desk, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.
You feel like you’re glued to the floor. You can’t move.
“I’d like to get back to work, I don’t have time for all this. I’d be best if you went back to work as well.” He sits at his desk with a file and you feel your eyes sting.
Leaving the food on his desk and grabbing your bag. Walking downstairs and away from his office that felt suffocating, you should’ve just minded your business.
You walk out of his office, closing the door softly as his words ring in your head.
Seigwinne sees you, walking up but stopping In his tracks when she sees your solemn expression. She’s studied humans enough to know that the emotion you were feeling was sadness.
You make your way home, stepping inside and locking the door as you feel the first tear run down your face.
You know how much you talk, you know many people don’t like it but Wriothesley never said anything about it. He’s always listened to you, saying it helps him relax. During work he’s often doing the talking so hearing you talk, it brings him peace. He also loves your voice.
When did he start getting annoyed? Has it been a while? What if he’s been tired of hearing me this whole time? You question yourself. Coming to the conclusion that you need to stop. Stop talking so much and taking up his time. It’s for the better.
When Wriothesley ends the meeting with the inmate he finally feels some tension release from his shoulders. He’s been running around all day and he hasn’t had time to sit in peace.
From the time on the clock he sees it reaching seven pm and decides to call it a day. He’s done the most important task already. He can attend other matters tomorrow.
As he cleans up his desk he notices the food and tea, remembering you stopped by earlier to chat with him. Remembering what a jerk he was and how he told you to leave.
He sighs when he notices what you made. You have a habit of putting others' priorities before yours and he feels bad for how he responded. He packs up the food to take it back home, to reheat and eat with you like you wanted.
When he arrives home, he notices how quiet it was inside. He pushes the door open and is met with a small lamp in the kitchen and spots you sitting on the couch, book in hand.
“I’m home darling.” He calls out, seeing you turn to him, giving him a small smile then turning back to your book.
His eyebrows draw together, he loves coming home and seeing you. Always so excited and giddy asking him about his day and telling him about yours but you didn’t even respond to him.
“I brought the food you made back home, I wanted to reheat it and eat with you. We haven’t spent time with each other in a while.” He speaks up, pulling his tie down a-bit as he still sees you reading your book.
Why weren’t you responding? He thinks, you’re never this quiet.
“Have you eaten?” He pushes, trying to get something out of you, anything.
“Not hungry.” You answer, simple and quick. Not even looking away from your book this time.
He feels nervous. He feels something off.
“I’ll heat it up, if you want some please eat.” He sighs, the tension is heavy but nothing happens. He knows something’s off with you.
In silence the duke eats alone on the table, sending you glances as you continue to turn the pages of your book. Not indulging him in your ranting he’s come to grow ‘annoyed of’. He made it clear earlier.
“The food is delicious, thank you for making this.” He tires again, this time you look up. He smiles a bit but you do something that makes him believe something is off, you only send him a thumbs up in return.
He finishes his half and saves you yours for when you get hungry, putting it away and making his way to you.
“Y/n darling. Is something the matter?” He asks, making his way closer to you. Seeing you shift uncomfortably from where you sit.
“Nope.” You shake your head, not daring to look at him. You can feel him coming closer.
He kneels down, inspecting you. The corners of your eyes were a bit red, but nothing else seemed off. Were you feeling sick?
His hand reaches up to feel your forehead but you move away.
“I’m not sick.” You speak up as you dodge his touch. He feels his hand freeze.
“Use your words, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you talking to me?” He asks, placing hands next to both sides of your legs caging you in.
“I’m not one of your inmates, don’t order me to do things.” You speak up, still not daring to look up at him, you can feel his piercing eyes on you.
He’s taken aback at your response.
“I’m not ordering you y/n, I’m just worried.” He sighs, pulling your book down to get you to look at him.
“I said I’m fine, can I get back to reading?” You glance up at him. Trying your best to not let anything slip though. You don’t want him to see how much his words hurt you.
He decides to stop, for now. He knows something’s wrong. You’re too stubborn to tell him though.
He walks into your shared bedroom and into the bathroom to shower, racking his brain to think of what possibly could have made you so upset. The whole time he spends in there he can’t think of why you’re refusing to respond properly.
It’s already later when he gets out, the steam from the bathroom becoming visible when he opens the door.
He sees you in bed and he can help but feel at ease. You came to bed at least. He walks over to the closet eyes you as he does, a small smile making its way onto his lips at the sight of how you look.
He starts changing and notices you’re faced away from him. He quietly steps around and sees you hugging a pillow and he feels this heavy feeling in his chest again.
Did he do something?
He lays down next to you, you feel the bed dip and try your hardest to not turn around. You’d probably hug him and start talking and annoy him again. He probably doesn't want that.
You feel like such a fool. All day his words have been affecting you. You’re too scared to speak again.
You hug the pillow closer to you and feel your eyes burn once again. Hearing those words from him hurt more than anything. You don’t want to show him how much it hurts you though. He doesn’t need to know. He said what he said and what’s done is done.
He lays there for a bit, the tension still surrounding you. He’s unsure of what to do. He wants to hold you, pull you in but what if you move again.
That’s when he hears it, the small sound of sniffing. He freezes. His heart drops making him stand.
You feel the bed move and hear him stand, you think the worst. Maybe he’s leaving because he’s annoyed. He doesn’t want to deal with this. You don’t know why you’re crying but it won’t stop. He just told you something that bothered him and you took it too personally. You’re both hurt and upset and you don’t understand why.
It’s quiet for a few seconds but then you feel a firm hand gently grab your arm, lifting you off the bed effortlessly.
You try to hide your face but Wriothesley has had enough of this.
“Hey hey, look at me.” He softly calls out.
You try to hold it in but you feel more tears run down. Placing your hands on his chest and pushing him away but his sturdy frame doesn’t budge.
“I’m fine, j-just tired.” You try to sound convincing despite your voice cracking. Struggling against his hold, pushing him a bit harder to move.
You resist in his hold and he feels his heart break even more.
“Y/n what’s wrong?” He grabs your hands, stopping your struggle and you look down, not wanting to look at him.
“Nothing, I’ve talked enough today. I don’t want to anymore.” You try to sound convincing, trying to pull your arms out of his grasp.
He’s taken aback, talked too much? You haven’t even talked at all. Where is this even coming from- oh.
oh
He stills, eyes boring into your head as you avoid his gaze.
“I didn’t mean it earlier y/n. I didn’t mean anything I said earlier. It doesn’t excuse if I was mad or busy telling you that wasn't something I ever meant. I love hearing you talk. I love your voice. Don’t ever think that I want you to stop.” He explains, knowing he was the reason for it all now. What a jerk he’s been.
He drops his head, resting it on yours. He waits a bit seeing if you’d pull away but you don’t. “Darling, I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart I am. I miss hearing you talk. The house is eerily quieter without your beautiful voice and laughter echoing through these halls.” He speaks softly, hearing a small sob escape your lips.
You move back a bit, looking up at him and taking a breath. “But you told me- I don’t want to annoy you.” You hiccup, finally letting more tears fall. It’s been eating you alive. It hurts. It hurts so bad because someone you love told you.
“No no, you’d never, and you never ever had. Do you understand?” He makes it clear, seeing your pretty eyes filled with tears he grabs your face.
Your behavior makes sense now, how could he have been so mean to you? He truly is such a fool.
His hands slowly lift to your face, testing the waters to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t pull back. “Please talk to me. Don’t hold back or hide your voice dear. Scold me, tell me what I did wrong.” He pleads, the look in his eyes desperate.
You nod, wiping your tears when he brings your head to his chest hugging you close. “Please forgive me.” He repeats, squeezing you tighter when you let out a small ‘yes’.
He holds you close, and though you said you forgive him. He can’t take you for granted, not when you’re the best thing to ever come into his dull life. So he repeats it over and over, until you both fall asleep.
_________________
authors note: hello my lovelies HIIIIII!!! (/^▽^)/ it’s been a while but I come with a gift ANGST!! hehe neuvi and Wrio are such sweet men this was kind of a rough one but them with them seems so AMAZING! I hope you all had a lovely holiday and you’re all taking care! Hope I enjoy yet another angst with comfort! take care loves, bagel miss u all mwahhh <33 ^~^! (DISCLAIMER!! this was not edited or looked over, apologies for any misspelled words or incorrect grammar!!)
hi! love, love, love your lohen pieces! if this is something you're comfortable with, would you consider writing lohen with a stubborn reader who attempts to hide an injury or bruises? perhaps from a fight, spar or a monster attack
been craving some angst, ty in advance ~
⋆｡˚ 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐘 .ᐟ.ᐟ lohen
⊹˚. 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : Lohen. [x reader]
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 : After returning from a mission with a life-threatening injury you desperately tried to conceal, you locked yourself inside your office, determined to endure the pain alone. When Lohen unexpectedly caught you before you can hide the truth.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 3k !!
ⓘ : 𝐒𝐅𝐖. blood, heavy wound, collapse/fainting, pain, you literally hit your wound to a table, angst but also fluff (?), lohen calls you [name]
𝐀/𝐍. ANONNN YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE GENIUS i love this idea so much mm,, i hope the writing is to your liking though!! felt like this wasn't my best one huhu,, (｡ᵕ ◞ _◟)
The heavy oak door swung shut behind you with a muted click, instantly cutting off the ambient hum of the headquarters and locking you in heavy silence. Your hand instantly reached for the brass lock, turning it with unsteady fingers until the mechanism slipped firmly into place. Remaining your back to the room, you leaned your side against the wooden surface of the door, your forehead resting against the cool wooden surface, your eyes falling shut as uneven breaths escaped through clenched teeth.
‘Fuck,’ another sigh escaped your lips, ‘it hurts so bad.’
Each inhalation carved sharply through your ribs, sending another relentless wave of pain radiating beneath the heavy fabric of your coat. The office lay bathed in the subdued amber glow of the late afternoon, long shafts of light streamed through the tall windows and stretched across the polished floor in quiet ribbons of gold. Countless motes of dust drifted through the still air with effortless serenity, the room untouched by anything save the paint rhythm of your strained breathing. ‘Just make it to the chair.’
With visible reluctance, you forced yourself away from the door.
‘You only have to make it to the chair𑁋’
“Look who finally made it back.”
The voice broke the silence with startling clarity. Your eyes opened at once, a sharp surge of alarm cutting through the haze clouding your thoughts as your gaze darted toward the source.
Lohen occupied your chair with effortless familiarity, reclining as though the office belonged as much to him as it did to you. His legs were crossed comfortably atop your desk while a daffer revolved between his fingers in smooth, practiced motions, its polished blade briefly catching the afternoon light with every turn. His gaze lingered upon you with leisurely confidence, observing your reaction without the slightest urgency.
After one final rotation, he allowed the dagger to fall neatly upon the desk with an absent flick of his wrist. “I was starting to think you got roped into helping out at Dornman Port again. Did you manage to clear out those hilichurl camps by the canyon?”
A flicker of irritation crossed your features.
‘Of all the moments for him to appear, it had to be now.’
Without offering him more than the briefest glance, you deliberately turned your attention elsewhere, refusing to meet his eyes. Rather than crossing the centre of the office, you altered your course toward the row of bookshelves lining the wall. Your fingertips found the polished wood almost instinctively, gliding lightly along its surface.
“Yeah, it’s done,” you said. “Now leave. Get out of my office, Lohen. I have things I need to do.”
Your voice emerged unusually subdued, entirely devoid of the dry wit that ordinarily coloured your exchanges with him. The smile upon Lohen’s face diminished almost imperceptibly.
Without diverting his attention from you, he lowered his legs from the desk, both boots meeting the floor with quiet, measured thuds. The chair shifted backwards with a muted scrape as he rose to his feet, one hand resting briefly upon the desk while the other steadied the chair’s armrest.
“Hey, hold on a second.” Stepping away from the desk, he rounded its corner with measured purpose, his gaze never leaving your retreating figure. “What’s up with you today? You’re acting like I’m a total stranger.”
“I just want to sit down and rest,” you mumbled, your pace remaining steady as your fingertips found the edge of the bookshelf, gliding across the polished wood in quiet search of support. You drew your coat more tightly around yourself, your elbows held rigidly against your sides as though the heavy fabric alone could conceal what your body no longer had the strength to hide. “It was a long walk back. Go bother Kaeya or someone else already.”
“A long walk doesn’t make you walk like your spine is made of glass,” Lohen countered, the easy levity in his voice giving way to quiet scrutiny.
Rather than allowing you to pass, he stepped forward with measured composure, effortlessly intercepting your path before you could reach the desk. The movement was unhurried, almost deceptively casual, yet it carried an unmistakable finality. His broad frame occupied the space before you, leaving only a narrow opening at his side, just enough that you could still slip past him if you insisted, though not without brushing against him in the process.
His gaze settled upon you. Your eyes remained fixed somewhere beyond him, as though acknowledging his presence required more strength than you possessed. Your jaw was drawn so tightly that the muscle trembled beneath your skin with every restrained breath. Whatever warmth ordinarily lingered in your complexion had long since drained away, leaving your features pale beneath the afternoon light. Fine strands of hair clung to your forehead, dampened by a faint sheen of perspiration, while exhaustion carved quiet shadows beneath your eyes.
“Look at me for a second.”
“I’m fine, Lohen. Would you just get out of my way?” you snapped, your voice faltering despite your efforts to steady it, the brittle edge of frustration unable to conceal the panic beneath.
Without waiting for him to answer, you abruptly shifted toward the narrow space beside him, determined to force your way through before he could stop you again.
Lohen reacted instinctively. His hand caught the edge of your coat. The sudden pull halted your momentum just long enough for irritation to eclipse caution. You turned sharply, slapping his wrist away almost on reflex, determined to free yourself from his grasp.
He released you immediately. But your balance had already abandoned you.
The abrupt turn carried more kinetic force than your depleted, blood-starved body could withstand, stripping away your final, fragile anchor to the floor. Gravity claimed you in a terrifying, unyielding instant, your footing betrayed you on the polished wood, sending you tilting sideways in a helpless descent toward the sharp, solid mahogany corner of the desk.
Lohen lunged for you at once, his reflexes outrunning conscious thought as his hand closed firmly around yours, trying to anchor your falling weight. Instinctively, your free hand shot forward, palm slamming against the surface of the desk in a desperate attempt to brace yourself, but the violent momentum refused to yield. With a sickening, heavy thud that reverberated through the quiet room, a sound that betrayed the sheer, crushing force of the collision, the sharp corner of the desk struck you directly in the flank.
The impact acted like a physical wedge driven straight into the raw, weeping center of your deep, heavily bleeding wound, violently rupturing what little clotting had formed and sending a fresh, agonizingly hot surge of crimson blooming across your skin.
The cry tore from your throat without restraint, a shattered, breathless sound of pure, unadulterated torment. "Fuck!"
Your entire body seized violently. Every nerve ending screamed as a spasm of blinding, white-hot agony locked your muscles beneath the sudden shock, your shoulders drawing sharply upward until they stood rigid with a brutal, paralyzing tension. The strength fled your legs almost immediately, the room spinning in nauseating, fragmented colors before your eyes.
“[Name]?” Lohen released your wrist at once as you folded completely against the desk, your forehead lowering to the cool, dark wood while your breathing fractured into shallow, desperate gasps. One hand curled into a fist so tightly your knuckles blanched beneath the strain, while the other instinctively pressed against your side as though trying to contain the overwhelming, throbbing ache radiating through your torso. Quiet, involuntary whimpers and pained groans escaped between each labored breath, your composure entirely unraveling despite every desperate attempt to remain silent.
The office fell still. Only your uneven breathing disturbed the silence, each measured inhale sounding increasingly difficult to draw. A faint tremor coursed through your frame, impossible to suppress, until even standing became an act sustained by little more than stubborn resolve. The change in you was immediate.
So was the change in Lohen.
Whatever lingering doubt remained vanished in an instant. Alarm overtook him completely.
Fearing you would collapse outright, he stepped in without hesitation, bracing himself against the desk as he steadied your unsteady frame before it could slide toward the floor. Concern displaced every trace of frustration upon his features as his eyes followed the hand desperately guarding your side. His own hands moved with urgent purpose, catching hold of the front of your cloak before pulling it open, determined at last to uncover the truth you had been fighting so fiercely to conceal.
Lohen froze. His gaze remained fixed upon what lay beneath the parted folds of your cloak, his mind refusing to reconcile the image before him with the person standing only an arm’s length away. Refusing to register the sheer volume of blood smeared across your side. “Shit…!” The curse escaped through clenched teeth.
“Are you fucking insane?!” Lohen yelled, his voice reverberating through the office, stripped of every trace of composure. “You’re bleeding out! And you’re standing there acting like this is absolutely nothing?!”
Still bent over the desk, your forehead remained pressed against the polished wooden surface, your shoulders rising and falling in short breaths. One hand stayed clenched into a fist while the other remained firmly pressed against your side. Yet even then, stubbornness refused to leave you. “Ugh… It looks worse than𑁋”
The sentence faltered immediately, your breathing caught sharply, cutting the words apart before they could fully leave your mouth. You swallowed against another wave of pain, your voice dissolving into little more than a strained murmure. “It’s just… I can… handle…”
“Handle it?! You𑁋!” The words died in his throat. His anger collapsed beneath the weight of what laid before him. Your body remained folded over the edge of the desk, every shallow breath accompanied by another involuntary tremor running through your shoulders.
Lohen leaned forward, stopping only when he stood close enough to hear every strained breath you struggled to draw. His hands lifted without thought before freezing helplessly in the air, suspended just above your shoulders. They hovered there uncertainly, fingers trembling with restrained urgency, afraid to touch you yet equally afraid of doing nothing at all.
His gaze drifted to the corner of the desk, then back to the hand still pressed desperately against your side. “You just…” he began quietly, his voice stripped of everything except raw disbelief. “...you hit the corner of the desk.” His words came slower now, “right where you’re bleeding.”
His hand cautiously reached your shoulder, stopping only a breath away as he searched your face for any sign that he could touch you without causing more pain. “Just stay still.” His whispered. “Let me help you.”
"Don’t touch me..." you breathed weakly.
Even so, stubbornness compelled you to move.
With a strained exhale, you planted both hands against the edge of the desk and attempted to force yourself upright, every muscle in your body protesting the effort. For a fleeting instant, it seemed you had succeeded. Your weight shifted onto your feet, your shoulders trembling beneath the strain as you tried to pull away from the desk.
Then the room tilted.
The office blurred into indistinct streaks of amber and shadow, the edges of your vision darkening as though the world itself had begun to recede. Your balance disappeared without warning. The strength fled your legs before you could recover, and your body lurched forward helplessly instead of away.
Straight into Lohen.
The collision drove him back half a step, though he barely seemed to notice. His arms instinctively came up to steady you before you could crumple entirely, one hand catching your arm while the other hovered uncertainly behind your back, careful not to venture anywhere near the injury he had only just discovered. Your forehead brushed against his shoulder as your breathing fractured into shallow, uneven gasps, each one weaker than the last.
Lohen reacted immediately, every movement stripped of haste despite the panic surging beneath his composure. One hand settled around your elbow with remarkable care, supporting your weight without forcing you into any position that might worsen your condition. The other remained suspended for a heartbeat, searching for somewhere safe to hold you before finally resting against your uninjured side with the gentlest pressure he could manage.
"Hey, hey, don't. Don't do this. Don't fight me," he pleaded, the steadiness in his voice threatening to splinter. He shifted closer, allowing his own shoulder to bear the weight your body could no longer sustain. Through the layers of your clothing he could already feel the unnatural chill settling over you, a quiet warning that sent another wave of dread crashing through him. His eyes searched your face relentlessly, watching every strained breath, every flicker of pain crossing your features as though afraid the next time he looked, you would no longer be conscious. "Look at me. You're losing too much blood. Just let me hold you up. I’ve got you."
Your jaw tightened.
Summoning what little strength remained, you pressed an unsteady hand against his chest, attempting to create even the smallest distance between you. The effort scarcely moved him. Instead, it drained what remained of your balance, forcing you to stumble backward until the bookshelves caught you once again. Your fingers immediately grasped at the polished wood, clinging to it with desperate determination as though refusing to stand on your own feet meant surrendering something far greater than simple independence.
"I can walk... to the infirmary... by myself," you whispered, your gaze unfocused as it drifted somewhere beyond him, no longer truly seeing the man standing before you. Your fingertips dug into the edge of the shelf in a futile attempt to anchor yourself against the darkness steadily pressing at the edges of your vision. "Just... leave me be."
Lohen stared at you in disbelief.
A slow, weary sigh escaped him, the sound carrying more frustration than anger.
One hand came up to rub briefly across his face before falling again, his shoulders rising with another measured breath as he struggled to contain the growing irritation born entirely from fear.
"Are you trying to die or something?," Lohen whispered, the words leaving him with quiet exasperation rather than raised fury. His brows remained tightly drawn together as he looked at you, unable to comprehend how you still found the strength to argue when simply remaining upright had become a battle of its own. Carefully, he reached toward your uninjured side once more, his movements slow enough to give you every opportunity to pull away if you truly wished. "Please. I'm right here. Just lean on me."
"No... I've got it..." you mumbled, your head tipping back in one final, stubborn attempt to prove a point, even as the conviction behind your words had long since abandoned your body. It was as though sheer will alone had been forcing your legs to remain beneath you, and the moment those words left your lips, that fragile thread finally snapped.
The office began to sway around you with unsettling slowness, the familiar outlines of shelves, books, and polished mahogany dissolving into indistinct silhouettes as darkness crept inward from the edges of your vision. The warm afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows fractured into blurred ribbons of gold before fading altogether, while the steady rhythm of your heartbeat became the only sound you could still distinguish.
A quiet, involuntary sigh escaped your lips, carrying with it the final remnants of your consciousness as every muscle surrendered at once and your body pitched forward without the slightest attempt to catch itself.
"Hey!" Lohen reacted before the thought had even fully formed. The instant your full weight collapsed against him, the force drove him backward, his boots scraping sharply across the wooden floor as he fought to recover his footing before the both of you followed your momentum to the ground. His arm shot instinctively around your back while the other slipped beneath your knees, gathering you securely against him in one fluid movement born entirely of reflex.
He staggered beneath the sudden shift of weight, tightening his hold as he steadied himself, his heart pounding violently against his ribs while your body lay utterly limp within his arms. Your head rolled gently against his shoulder, completely devoid of resistance. There was no stubborn protest telling him to let go, no irritated attempt to push him away, no strained insistence that you could still walk. Only the faintest whisper of breath brushed against his collar, so fragile he found himself unconsciously holding his own, listening desperately for the next.
"Hey. Hey, stay with me. Open your eyes," he muttered, his voice trembling despite every effort to steady it as he shifted you closer against his chest, instinctively cradling you as though sheltering you from a storm only he could see.
One hand remained carefully braced against your side, his touch impossibly gentle despite the urgency coursing through him, while his eyes searched your face with growing desperation, pleading for the slightest movement behind your closed eyelids, the smallest sign that you could still hear him. Your breathing remained frighteningly shallow, your features slack with unconsciousness, and the unnatural stillness settling over you made his stomach twist into a knot so tight it became painful.
“Damn it.” The curse slipped through clenched teeth before he drew a slow, unsteady breath, forcing himself to think despite the panic threatening to overwhelm him. There was no possibility of leaving you alone while he searched for someone else, nor could he afford to waste another precious moment hoping you would regain consciousness on your own.
"Stupid... stubborn idiot..." he murmured, the words stripped entirely of irritation and weighed down instead by fear so profound it threatened to fracture his voice. Tightening his hold ever so slightly, he adjusted your weight with painstaking care, ensuring your injured side remained as undisturbed as possible before turning sharply toward the office door.
With a forceful shove, he sent it swinging open against the stone wall and broke into a run through the corridors of headquarters, every stride measured despite his urgency, every instinct focused solely on protecting the unconscious woman resting silently within his arms. He held you impossibly close, as though the strength of his embrace alone could keep you anchored to him until help finally arrived.
I love the idea of immortal characters slowly forgetting their memories with you. It's so painful and real.
Dainsleif, who panics when telling his story of you to the traveler and Paimon, realises he forgot what your voice sounded like. Who clenched his fist, when he can't remember what your laughter sounded like.
Flins, who freezes when asked what you looked like, because he genuinely can't remember, and it shattered his heart when he realised that. Who begged to remember even little bits of you.
Neuvillette, whose voice stumbles when Sigwinne asks what you were like back then, the human who guided and taught him the world, who took care of him, someone that precious, yet he can't remember what you were like besides that.
