Saying “but Im Just A Little Girl!!!” When Big Sis Touches Me, She Said “that Makes It Even Better”

Want the kind of sibling relationship where me and my sister could be hanging out all normal and platonically, then one of us gets turned on randomly, and we just casually fuck each others brains out then go back to hanging out like nothing happened. You felt a tingle in your cunt sis? Here let big brother scratch that itch for you real quick, then back to building the base in our shared Minecraft world.

what I say: “it is what it is”

what I mean: “I have cried about this for hours and have probably self harmed and contemplated suicide over this.

5ᴘᴍ; ᴛᴇᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

He stood in the doorway, his heart pounding in his chest, his hands trembling at his sides. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent, but there was something in them—something that made his stomach twist in knots, something that made him feel like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“You’re nervous,” she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips. "You don’t have to be."

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t right.”

She tilted her head, studying him with those big, doe eyes. “Then why are you here?” she asked, her tone gentle, almost teasing. “You could have walked away.”

He couldn’t answer that. He didn’t answer that. Instead, he crossed the room in three quick strides, his hands reaching out to grip her shoulders. She gasped, her eyes widening in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. She just looked up at him, her breath quickening, her chest rising and falling with each rapid heartbeat.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice strained, desperate. “Tell me to leave.”

But she didn’t. She just reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, her touch so soft, so tender, it made his chest ache. “I don’t want you to stop,” she murmured. “I’ve never wanted you to stop.”

Something inside him snapped. He wasn’t sure what it was—guilt, desire, something else entirely—but it was too much, too overwhelming. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he yanked her closer. She let out a small yelp, but it quickly turned into a moan as he crushed his lips against hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth.

She tasted sweet, like the candy she’d been eating earlier, and it only made him hungrier. He kissed her harder, his hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her. She arched into him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her lips, his voice rough, almost broken. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

She didn’t say anything. She just pulled him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist as she kissed him back with the same desperation, the same hunger. He could feel her heart racing, feel the heat radiating from her body, and it drove him wild.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stared down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dark with desire. She looked so innocent, so pure, and yet there was something so utterly forbidden about her, something that made his blood boil.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He pushed her back onto the bed, his hands fumbling with the button on her jeans. She lifted her hips, helping him pull them down, and then she was lying there, completely exposed, completely vulnerable.

He stared at her for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. She was so small, so delicate, and yet there was something so inherently erotic about her, something that made him feel like he was on fire. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her inner thigh, and she shivered, her breath hitching.

“You’re wet,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

She whimpered, her hips bucking up towards him, and that was it. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He stripped off his own clothes, his hands trembling with anticipation, and then he was on top of her, his body pressing hers into the mattress.

She gasped as he entered her, her nails scraping down his back. He groaned, his head falling forward as he felt her tight warmth envelop him. He started to move, slowly at first, testing the waters, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed everything.

He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he thrust into her harder, faster. She moaned, her hands reaching up to grip his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. He could feel her clenching around him, feel the way her body trembled beneath him, and it only made him more desperate.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he buried his face in her neck. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

She whimpered, her legs tightening around his waist as she rocked her hips against him. “Please,” she begged, her voice breathless. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He gripped her sides, his fingers pressing into her skin as he yanked her hair, forcing her head back. She cried out, her body arching up towards him, and he could feel her starting to unravel. He could feel himself getting closer, too, but he didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay like this forever, lost in her, consumed by her.

But he couldn’t hold on. He felt his body tensing, felt the fire in his gut building until it was too much. He let out a low groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

He collapsed on top of her, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers running through his hair as she held him close. He could feel her heart racing, feel the way her body was still trembling beneath him, and it made him feel sick.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice choked with guilt. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She didn’t say anything. She just held him tighter, her lips pressing against his forehead. “It’s okay, little bro” she murmured, her voice soft, soothing. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t. He felt like a monster, like a pervert, like he’d just destroyed something sacred. He buried his face in her neck, his hands gripping her waist as he tried to steady his breathing, but it was no use. The guilt was too much, the shame too overwhelming.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She stroked his hair, her touch gentle, comforting. “You don’t have to apologize,” she murmured. “I wanted it. I wanted you.”

He shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “It’s not right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re my sister. I’m disgusting.”

She didn’t respond. She just held him, her fingers tracing patterns on his back as she whispered soft, soothing words into his ear. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve her, but he couldn’t pull away. He needed her too much.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

She kissed his forehead, her lips soft, warm. “I won’t,” she promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He clung to her, his body trembling, his mind spinning. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to fix this, but for now, all he could do was hold on to her and pray that she wouldn’t let go.

Itadori's two moods

And he is always my baby

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ what I know to be true ⋆｡˚ ೀ⋆｡˚ ༘

Childe wasn't a big fan of the Tsaritsa's demand for him to find a wife, until he'd come upon the perfect girl for the job. You—a lady he knew in his childhood to be a horrible nuisance and demon on Earth. Not only would this marriage fulfill his duty, but would let him settle a long-time grudge as well. Little did he know, he stood more to gain from this partnership than he thought.

Childe x fem!reader II arranged marriage, angst? to fluff, childhood enemies to lovers, romance!

Childe was never one for romance, and especially not for commitment.

He just had so much else on his plate, much bigger dreams than that of settling down in a household and abandoning his place on the battlefield.

He was always looking ahead to a future of bloodshed, of power, of someday ruling the world.

That wasn't going to happen if a distraction stood in his way.

He would sometimes muse about having kids, loving the idea of continuing his lineage and watching a bunch of mini-me's run around, but ultimately, he decided his duty to the Tsaritsa would stand in the way of him being a good father. So he'd just have to settle for being an amazing uncle to the children his siblings would eventually have, spoiling them with presents at Christmas time and teaching them how to protect themselves out in the wild.

So when he was called into the Tsaritsa's throne room and received the news that a harbinger of his status was to be married, in order to keep up with regal airs the nobles of Snezhanaya, he was, respectfully, very unhappy.

"You'll be seen at balls and lead battalions. Your role must be carried with honor. Nobody will respect an old lonely man.", she claimed, then drew out a long, thin arm to hold his chin with a bony hand—long pointed nails pressing divots into his skin. Though her touch was frigid, she looked down at him with a certain fondness in her eyes, though the sincerity of it was undistinguishable. "You need a pretty thing by your side to elevate your status. You know I only want what's best for you.", she cooed, like she was addressing a child.

He new better than to disobey her commands, and something about the smoothness of her voice assured him that this was the right choice. He only nodded, though his fists clenched at his sides in dismay.

Childe read over the listed names of eligible young ladies for him to marry with contempt; scrolling through the meaningless last names and accompanying statures, ordered from top to bottom by how highly they stood in the totem pole of nobility. Like he cared where the girl would come from.

He felt guilt for the miserable thing that would have to marry him; though he could care less about who these women were, he believed that they deserved a partner that loved them, or at least a good man that could stand to take care of them. All they would be to him is a nuisance, a label which they had done nothing to earn.

Though, when he neared the end of the list, a section devoted to common folk who had certain merits like striking beauty or some sort of fame, that he found a name he recognized.

Your name.

Oh, how he remembered you.

You were the daughter of good friends of his parents. Your families would often gather for holidays or dinner parties, sharing what little they had in the name of kinship. The gatherings were lively, full of happiness and cheer...

But you had a certain countenance that stood out to him and branded your name into a special part of his brain to be remembered for the rest of his life.

You were a little brat was what you were.

Though you were only a toddler when he met you, having only just taken your first steps while he was already halfway through being eight, he found you to be the most insufferable little human he'd ever met.

Your parents would always gab and brag about what a good little girl you were; how you never cried or screamed, how you were sweet and patient and loving—a wonderful surprise for parents preparing for the "terrible two's.".

They had to be lying, because every time Ajax would come into view you'd immediately throw a fit, wailing and swiping at his face with a kind of rage an entire army of men could not match.

He had no idea why; he never touched you, or spoke to you, all he did upon your first meeting was draw back in repulse.

You weren't a pleasure to look at; with your beady little eyes and thick eyelashes that lined them, your thin eyebrows and piercing gaze. You looked like some haunted porcelain doll. And there was a certain consciousness behind your eyes that children your age were not supposed to have.

His little siblings were much cuter.

And he did not hesitate to say that.

"Tonia was a prettier baby. What's wrong with her?", he piped up, humiliating his mother and father who immediately scolded him for his rudeness. Your mother only laughed.

"Trust me, she'll be a beauty when she grows up. I won't be surprised when you come around here in sixteen years asking to marry her."

This started a little musing session between your mothers, giggling about the possibility of their children being wed and how wonderful that would be for their friendship and their families.

Meanwhile, Ajax was dwelling on how that would absolutely never happen—if the look on your face was any indicator.

You were red as a tomato, nose scrunched in distain as your eyes pierced his. Like you'd understood him.

How was he supposed to know babies could take offense?

Whether or not your infant brain could comprehend his words, your hatred was clear, and before he could react, your soft little hand went flying towards his face and landed with a resounding THWAP!

Even though you struck him, you immediately burst into tears, bawling crocodile tears that ran down your face and dripped off of your chin.

All of the adults in the room immediately ran to your aid, hushing and petting you while scorning Ajax for "tormenting the poor girl."

Never before had he felt so cheated.

That begun his feud with a two year old.

Your detest for one another ran deep. So much so that every gathering between your families ended in you receiving plenty of sneaky pinches to your fat baby skin and him risking a bald spot with the amount of hair you'd rip out of his head.

It was a nightmare you could walk too, since you'd often seek him out just to babble in annoyance and tug at the knee of his trousers.

"See? Look at how much she likes you!", his mother would coo, but he knew better. Your grappling with his pants was your pea-brained strategy to get him to bend down and remove you so you could bop him one on the nose.

He swore you were such a strong baby. He'd rather take a hit from a club than suffer the force that your tiny fists could bring down on his head.

That's why you were the perfect girl to be his wife

If he were to marry any other woman, the guilt of leaving her alone at home for long stretches of time, depriving her of having the good husband she deserves rather than a man who could never love her, would be overwhelming.

Sure, he was a monster, but he wasn't about to let some innocent bystander be collateral damage.

But you? The evil, horrible little wench you are? You more than deserved it.

In his mind, he'd actually be doing his fellow man a favor by saving an unsuspecting bachelor from accidentally marrying a grisly thing like you.

So, although his retainers were already in the process of scheduling meetings with his potential brides, he plucked your name from the list without hesitation.

"Set the wedding date. I'll have that one."

The organizers looked between themselves warily, deciding whether or not they should challenge him on this monumental decision.

"And nothing too grand—it'll just be family.", he cooly added, leaning back in his chair to rest his feet upon his desk and crushing the list of names under his dirty boots.

In the end, the harbinger always gets what he wants, so his retainers retreated with quiet nods and quick steps.

Though Childe acted aloof towards the decision to have you as his bride, when the day of the wedding actually arrived and he found himself standing at the altar of a small church in Mosepok—his home town, his palms were sweating and eyes darting around nervously. He shifted his weight on his feet as the congregation waited for you to enter; this was supposed to be a small ceremony, but leave it to his mother and father's proud announcements to their friends and neighbors to draw a crowd. As his eyes scanned the faces of those who'd known him in his youth, he realized near all of the small port town was packed into the pews. He wracked his brain for the answer as to why these people would want to watch their old town troublemaker's union, but he supposed it would be the most interesting thing to happen in the town since his era of delinquency.

It was a miracle that the budget the Fatui gave Childe for this wedding greatly superseded the amount he'd needed for the original plan of a small gathering; it was more than enough to feed the whole town for a night, which actually brought a flicker of joy to Childe's chest.

He was pleased that he could give back to the community that handled him like a family in his childhood.

But that flicker was immediately quenched when the creaking sound of the heavy oak doors that led into the chapel reverberated through the room—revealing the silhouette cast in white of his bride.

His stomach turned with anxiety. Childe had led battalions into what could be considered suicide missions if not for their miraculous victorious outcome, and yet, somehow, the fear he felt standing in front of a girl that, though she may not be small by definition, definitely looked so standing next to him, significantly surpassed that of which he's ever felt.

His cold body shook like he stood inches from death.

Suddenly, he remembered the fury your little body had when you were only a baby, and it dawned on him that you've only gotten bigger, smarter, stronger. A little arbiter of the apocalypse couldn't have grown into the meek woman he imagined, if anything, her bloodlust grew with age.

What did he get himself into? Was he an idiot? Did he, blinded by his scheming for revenge, land himself in a lion's den?

With a light tap on the shoulder from the priest, he jolted out of his stupor and found you standing in front of him already, suddenly remembering that he was now to lift your veil.

His hands shook as he reached out, bracing himself for the hideous face he'd been forced to associate with at every friendly gathering between your parents in childhood, and now, due to his own brashness, would have to associate with every time he returned home or attended public events.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes as he took the fabric between his white-knuckled fingers and threw the thing up and over your head. The procession hummed with awe and approval—some more boisterous men from the docks whistling, to which their wives jabbed an elbow into their ribs.

The sounds of adoration resounding from the audience perplexed Childe, drawing his interest and encouraging him to open one wary eye and peek at you.

But his cautious peek grew into an owlish gawking and dropped jaw when the woman before him shined like an angel.

This couldn't have been the girl he knew in her infancy; her once-beady eyes now twinkled like stars, her red puffy face was now sculpted and the only remnants of her discoloration resided in dusted pink pigments on her cheeks. They were so perfectly placed that they could be mistaken for a painting by an artist with a keen eye. He pried his gaze from your enrapturing eyes to ogle your lips—plushy and inviting. He'd give anything to kiss a gorgeous woman like you.

And he remembered with an unexpected delight that he would by the end of this ceremony.

Before he knew it, the soft ring of your voice settled upon his ears. Having been caught in a trance, he hadn't realized the procession already arrived at your vows.

He only tuned in after the opening sentences of your declaration had passed, your words blurred by his reverie.

"I promise to wait for you when you go and embrace you when you return; to make a warm, solace of a home for you that you can always come back to, whether there be a roof over our heads or not. I promise to follow you through this life and meet you in the next, to be by your side when you need me, no matter how far apart we may be forced to exist. I promise to love you and only you, to be true as long as your ring encloses my finger, and promise to keep it there forever. I will take your family into my arms just as you will me, care for them—as they are an extension of you, to love them just as I do you. I'll hold you ever close to my heart, speak to you with nothing but kindness, recognize your face as that of my partner in life, my one and only, and..."

Childe jumped when he felt your warm hand sneak up on his and gingerly intertwine your fingers, to which he did not resist, nor want to.

"I promise to love you as you are; no matter how much the years we spend together may change us."

To his puzzlement, Childe felt a certain wetness roll down his cheek, causing him to look up at the skylight above the both of you to check if it was raining. When another droplet ran down the other side of his face, he realized he was crying.

Childe never cried, he couldn't even remember the last time it had happened; maybe it was sometime when he was a boy, but the memory simply did not exist. These were not tears shed in misery, they were spurred by your words of devotion, words he'd never been blessed with before. He truly wondered now if you may be divine, but all he beheld of you told him you were, in fact, human, and not a vision of absolution sent from the heavens above.

You tilted your head to the side and blinked your dollish eyelashes at him, obviously waiting for something, to which he remembered that is was now his turn.

He had neglected to write vows beforehand or memorize the traditional vows spoken by couples bound by marriage as an arrangement. He had, in fact, planned on skipping the process altogether, but your profession of love caught him off guard and incentivized him to speak his own.

So, with a blank mind, he resorted to letting the few truths he knew spill from his mouth.

"I'd only known you during our childhoods, but how you've blossomed and changed has..."

He had never been one for words, so making something up on the spot in front of quite literally a hundred people was daunting. His voice seized with trepidation, but he took a breath and moved forward.

"Has...left me speechless. My mind is empty, and all I can think of now is...that I am blessed."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued, struck by your endearing gaze on him—it made his voice quiver as it resounded from his chest.

"I'd assumed I knew you, but it's clear to me now that I have so much more to learn."

He unconsciously squeezed your hand for comfort, and, with a gentle smile on your face, you reassuringly squeezed back; making him sigh and yearn to feel more of you—imagining that you felt like warm cotton, soft and homey, something he could bury himself in and happily stay there for eternity.

"And I want to learn it. I...want to spend my whole life in awe of you, discovering as much as I can, knowing you like I know myself."

He could not hesitate before he blurted his next statement, his voice getting carried away from him and spilling his most personal beliefs.

"And loving you as you love me."

Your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, and your eyes glimmered as your perfect lips stretched into an even more enticing smile. He could hear your soft, happy sigh, a sound that not even the priest beside the two of you could catch, almost like a secret meant just for him.

Your sweetness enthralled him like nothing he'd ever experienced— slowly convincing him that you very well may be the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"I'll take care of you.", he promised, and meant it. "I'll spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. Despite what you promised before, I will always put a roof over your head. You'll be forever warm and safe. I will fight for you, die for you, do anything you ask. You will want for nothing as long as you're mine."

His vow had come upon its conclusion with one final promise he all but growled, like it was somehow in danger of being broken—that he would go to any length to protect.

"And you will forever be mine."

His pause at the end indicated to the priest that the his vow had ended, and the way your lips parted in wonder and your wide eyes remained locked on his made him want to lean in and kiss you like every inch of his body burned to do. But he had to, begrudgingly, wait; hoping the ceremony would end as soon as possible so he could finally have you to himself and ask you all the questions he was dying for the answers to.

Did you really mean what you said? He sure did, and he didn't even know he had the capacity to not only promise, but want, desperately so, the fulfill the oaths he had declared to you.

Soon enough, the priest announced it was now time for the bestowing of the rings—a symbol of the bond you will share for eternity.

As the ring bearer, Childe's dear brother, Teucer, brought the rings resting on a white silk pillow over to the altar and held it over his head while he balanced on his tippy toes so the two of you could reach the rings with ease. Childe immediately felt awash in shame. All he'd purchased for you was a simple silver band—no precious gems, no original detailing, just a band. He didn't expect to want to take pride in the symbol of his loyalty you'd wear for him on your finger. He'd get you a new one, a better one—one he could admire as he kissed your hand, held it with adoration and smoothed his fingers over it.

But although the ring fell below expectations, there was no disappointment on your face. You barely glanced at it, your eyes trained on his face with a fondness he'd never received before. Your gaze had his heart spilling over with exaltation.

You took his hand in yours and slipped the perfectly fitted ring around his finger, giving it a small squeeze when you were done—as if to brand your affection deep into his hand.

He returned the gesture, taking your other hand in his and, carefully, securing the ring around your finger as well; he breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight he hadn't known was resting on his shoulders alleviate. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to leap out in a desperate attempt to be ever closer to yours.

The priest spoke, but his voice was drowned out by Childe's inner voice, wailing for you.

All he could register was the sound of your silver bell-like voice, piercing through the fog in his head like a star's light in the void of the night sky above.

"I do.", you said.

He couldn't tell if he'd rushed ahead of the priest's announcement of his turn or not, but he followed your statement blindly.

"I do.", he whispered ardently, brushing the backs of those precious hands of yours softly with his thumbs.

After the final blurb recited by the priest, a sentiment he couldn't bring himself to listen to in his anticipation, he finally heard the words he'd been waiting for.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Without a moment of delay, he brought both of his hands up to cup your cheeks, a look of ache in his face as it felt like you had reached an invisible hand into his chest and gripped his heart, and kissed you.

Fervently, passionately kissed you.

It took your breath away, left you panting when he finally pulled away after remembering he was, in fact, in front of his parents and broader community.

But cheers sang from the crowd for your union as he led you back down the steps of the altar and out of the church, eyes trained on your feet with your hand secured in his—watching carefully as you descended to make sure you wouldn't fall. He treated you as if you were sculpted from crystal glass.

After the two of you crossed the threshold out of the church as one, Childe gently tugged your hand to draw you closer so that he could whisper in your ear.

"Could we take a walk in the garden?"

While the guests made their way to the reception hall for their lavish dinner, you and Childe strolled through the church's garden together, hands still intertwined as the two of you gazed at the various winter shrubs and evergreen trees sprinkled with snow. It was beautiful in its own kind of way; the way life persevered through otherwise uninhabitable conditions, how even the bear oak trees existed as intricate silhouettes against the grey sky—providing cover as the sun sank down and gave way to a grim dusk, it was wonderful, and in this moment, it was yours to share.

The two of you came to a halt at a marble bench next to a large, frozen fountain, adorned with swirling details and moulding from an older, more fanciful era. He swiped off the snow that had built on top of the bench, then removed his large, fur-lined cloak to rest on the surface. He led you down to sit on it, having fashioned a dry, warm seat for you as he stood.

"Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine.", he assured you. He'd grown used to the frigid air of his home country, having entered various conflicts with nothing but thin linen to cover him for the sake of his movements not being burdened by thick, heavy fabric.

"Thank you.", you spoke, softly, and the words warmed his chest more than any coat could.

He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you. He just couldn't believe you were real, and couldn't believe you were his at so little a cost—he'd done nothing but bellyache and pluck your name off of a paper, and somehow the situation ended up being the best decision of his life. He'd found someone that claimed to truly, deeply love him by sheer chance.

And that thought brought him to the question that had been weighing on his mind since your vows.

"Did you really mean what you said?", he asked, quietly, hesitantly. After the words left his mouth, he wished he'd never said them. He didn't want to know the answer; if he could live in a fantasy where a miracle like you truly adored him, he'd seize the opportunity and hold it close to his heart for the rest of his life. He felt like such a fool.

"Of course I did.", you chuckled, like the question was ridiculous.

"I thought you hated me.", he confessed, his curiosity for your change of heart getting the best of him when he knew better than to ask too many questions. You only quirked your head and blinked at him, indicating that he needed to clarify. "When we were younger, you acted like you wanted my head on a stick."

To that admission, you laughed heartily. It was a lovely sound, one his mind would no doubt play on repeat in his darkest of times, sending sparks to his heart that would keep him moving forward—back to you so he could hear it again and again. "I was a toddler, dear. I didn't understand my feelings! And you were pretty nasty to me, too.", you said with a playful, pointed look.

The term of endearment made his heart bubble, craving to hear you say it again, but his mind was desperate for more answers. "But...how did you...", he coughed awkwardly, "fall for me?".

His carefully spoken question only made you giggle once again, but you could understand his confusion.

"Oh, Ajax. You were the most entertaining person I've ever met. I know we fought, but I remembered your presence in my life so fondly. And I'd look at pictures of us from our old gatherings, where our parents would force you to hold me on your lap and smile, or take candid shots of us chasing each other around, and I'd wish for you to come back so we could fight again.", you laughed at the memory. "I thought of you all the time, you know. And, as I grew older and life passed by, I'd keep looking back on those photos and...", your cheeks turned even redder than the chilly air had already done, flushing your cheeks and nose. After this conversation, Childe would make sure to rush you inside so you could warm up by a hearth. "Well, my heart would beat for you. And I wished you would come back for different reasons...so I could see you again and fall in love with the man you've become."

Childe gulped in shame. He knew the man he'd become was...cruel. Wicked. He'd never thought so little of himself than when he stood before you, your glorious, pure eyes assessing him like Celestia would upon the day of his death.

But how you looked on at him was not in judgement, but affection. "And when I met you at the altar, I did. I truly did."

He was so swayed by your words, so caught up in your devotion, that though he knew he was undeserving, he leaned down and connected your lips with his once again; his large hands warmed you where they caressed your cheek and the side of your neck, his lips thawing your frozen ones. The flavor of you was intoxicating, but as much as he wanted to prolong this moment, your icy skin pushed him to get you inside immediately.

So he drew back, drawing the most angelic whine of protest from your lips. It made him grin in pride.

"Let's warm you up, huh?"

Though you wanted to stay in the privacy of this isolated garden, continue to live in this moment that only existed for the two of you, you couldn't deny how you shivered and your stomach growled. It was time for your reception, and you couldn't keep your guests waiting.

So you, albeit reluctantly, let Ajax pull you up into his arms and throw his cloak around the both of you before taking you back to the church where he married you, now entering sharing one heart, one life, one love. Forever.

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

summary: there's nothing quite like being pampered by your partner after coming home from a fight... at least in childe's eyes

pairing: childe x gn! reader

warnings: fluff, a smidge angsty towards the end, mentions of fighting/ wounds; just a scene i had to exorcise from my brain since i'm ridiculously down bad; this is either a modern au or a 'teyvat has blow-dryers now' au, pick whichever one you fancy

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“Watch it,” you threatened, though your voice lacked any sort of real bite. How could you be truly mad when Childe was grinning up at you, all boyish and playful, a strand of his wet bangs stubbornly falling back into his ocean-hued eyes?

“I wouldn’t have to if you just joined me,” the ginger hummed with no remorse, wet fingers dancing along the hem of your already soaked shirt, itching the creep under it. No doubt, he had already thought about just pulling you into the bathtub with him. “Or you could just take off your clothes if you’re so worried about them getting wet.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the only reason you’re proposing that, huh?” You cocked your eyebrow at him, gently sweeping his hair back again. Even after you shampooed and conditioned it, it was as unruly and wilful as the guy it was attached to. “No ulterior motives whatsoever, I presume.”

“No ulterior motives whatsoever,” Childe echoed, though his voice carried the same mischief as it did right before he splashed the first wave of water over you. “I’m just looking out for you, darling.”

“The only thing you’re looking out for are your best interests,” you snorted, grabbing the body wash and sponge, motioning for him to turn around. “Now sit still, you literal child. I don’t want to accidentally reopen the wounds I spent so long dressing.”

“You got it,” the ginger laughed, clearly not as concerned with the deep scratches littering his back. Though you really didn’t want to meet whatever had caused them, Childe had excitedly told you all about his scuffles as he came home, still high on adrenaline as you ushered him into the bathroom and peeling off his many layers of clothing.

You shook your head, dispelling the thoughts that started clouding your mind. It was a conversation you have had plenty of times before. Instead you concentrated on the way his lithe muscles flexed and relaxed under your touch, his skin as always pleasantly warm and smooth despite the faded scars littering it. You knew the origins of most, having spent many nights tracing them as you listened to the stories behind them. Sure, some were from thrilling battles, but there were also smaller, odd ones like the one where Teucer accidentally nicked him as he taught his younger brother how to prepare a fish they caught together.

When you were certain your boyfriend was all clean again, you got some fluffy towels as he clambered out of the tub, purposefully not meeting his smug expression as he caught you eyeing the water droplets running down the dibs of his abs. You were also sure there was no need for his arms to flex as much as they did as he towelled his hair dry, leaving the white fabric to rest around his neck. 

Though there was a shirt set out next to his sweatpants, he forewent it completely and you sighed as you followed him out of the bathroom with the blow-dryer in hand. Idly, Childe sauntered over to the bed, sitting down with his back to the frame waiting for you to take your place behind him like you always did.

Gingerly, you rested your legs over his shoulders, feeling his calloused palms wrap around them, his fingers tracing random shapes into your thighs and calves as his bare body radiated heat. Watching the stream of hot air tussle his fluffy strands, your thoughts couldn’t help but circle back to the bloodied wounds on his back. None of them were too deep this time, but…

There was a tap against your calf.

“What are you thinking about?” Of course, Childe would pick up on your dip in mood; he always could. He could probably also guess the direction your thoughts had turned, it wasn’t an uncommon point of discussion. “And you’d better not say it’s nothing.”

“I know I tell you all the time and you always tell me not to worry. And I do have more faith in you than anyone else, but can you be at least a little more careful?” In that moment you were glad your boyfriend was turned away from you, certain your voice would shake even more if you were to look into his eyes right now. 

Running your fingers through his soft hair, you busied yourself with parting the sections to resemble a somewhat orderly hairstyle in order to keep your hands from trembling. Still, Childe easily caught your wrists, sliding his fingers between yours as he twisted to face you.

“You really do worry too much. I’m fine, right? See, everything still attached and working,” Childe smiled, drumming his fingers across your knuckles.

“Yeah but what if something happens? Something that is outside of your control and you don’t—“ You cut yourself off, not daring to speak your worst fear into existence. It would make it seem so much realer. “Just… Ajax, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, if the other side of the bed was cold—“

“Hey now, none of that,” Childe soothed, reaching up to smooth out the crease of your brows. “You’ll never have to go to sleep alone or wake up to an empty bed. I’ll always come back home to you, I promise. Nothing could keep me away from you.”

The heat of his kisses spread from your knuckles all the way up to your heart, warming you from the inside out as his words soothed your frayed nerves. The logical part of your brain knew he couldn’t actually prevent all bad turns of events from happening but you willed those thoughts away. 

As you curled up under the blanket with him that night, his arm draped securely over your waist to pull you close to him and into his safe embrace, you reminded yourself Ajax had never broken his promises before. So, as the moon bore witness to his vow sealed with more kisses, you decided to believe him.

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