#and i would keep occasionally coming back to briefly work on it

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[oceanxveiined]

 Genshin Verse Side Muses:

*Mentions of abuse, dysfunctional families, manipulation, torture, violence, experimentation, ableism, transphobia, and death, not necessarily all present/to various extents depending on each bio, ahead.

1) Chang Da’Lun (500+/appears 23): Half-Adeptus, born some time before the Cataclysm. He can shift into a smaller birdlike form at will, though it does take a bit out of him to switch back. It doesn’t stop him from shifting into it on his own or a friend's whim though.

          His father was a Yaksha named Wuye, alias Caligo, who had inevitably become consumed by his karmic debt and became more akin to a malevolent demon. Though admittedly, the adeptus had already possessed quite the cruel streak, even long before he’d fallen. Being driven mad by the karmic debt meant his slaughters turned to fellow adepti and humans alike, which had also grown to be far more frequent and brutal. Each consumed opponent led his power to grow as he’d absorb their vitality and any abilities they possessed.

          By contrast Da’lun’s mother, Anhe, had been fully human, having been with a group of treasure hunters who’d taken her from her family in ransom when they’d strayed too close to the maddened Yaksha’s territory. When they had realized and tried to sneak away, she risked her life to draw Wuye out and betrayed them all in a desperate bid for freedom and power. She offered them all to be slaughtered and devoured by the corrupted Yaksha, as well as to offered to lure more to satisfy his bloodlust for incentive to make him spare her own life. She even offered to be his mate as well, to let herself be used by him as he saw fit, sparing no expense to give anything and everything she could to ensure she survived this encounter. He conceded out of convenience, taking her as promised and continuing his slaughters about Wuwang Hill with her aid.

          Anhe delighted in having his favor, even with how terrified of him she’d been at first, growing more and more sadistic herself with every massacred he’d rend, every death scream that filled her ears while she remained unscathed. The thrill of power and having a mate so powerful to keep it was too alluring and far too intoxicating, she would never dream of ever parting from him.

         Only for her to end up alone and powerless anyway when the former Yaksha was killed shortly after the birth of Da’Lun.

         Much of his childhood had been Anhe relentlessly tormenting him, using him as a scapegoat for how her life had fallen apart and due to having been affected by his father’s karmic debt as well ( both in her continued presence alongside him up until that point and in stubbornly lingering at his lair where the miasma was all concentrated rather than returning home with him gone ). Da’Lun took the abuse without protest, wholeheartedly believing her and his own guilt. He spent his whole life striving to ‘make up’ for his existence, in bringing her gifts and attempting to make her life easier every way he could. To protect and provide for her as his father had intended.

         It all came to a crashing stop when his mother at last succumbed to the cursed energy infesting their home. Or so he tells himself and anyone who ponders of her fate, not wanting to admit he himself had killed and devoured her. It had been when she’d tried to end his life first and the resulting corruption of them both had his adeptal nature spiraling out of control during the struggle. His Electro Vision had been what had ultimately murdered her, bestowed upon him during his struggle as she denounced and cursed him, which he hadn’t realized until the morning after.

         Plagued with guilt and fear, and knowing he must have taken on her share of the karmic debt's influence, his father's ability considered, he traveled Teyvat to distance himself from his former home for a few years. For 500 years, he witnessed beauty and horrors alike throughout it all, before he decided to settle some time in Sumeru. His main aim had been to learn all he could on humans and their histories ( learning from each Darshan over the course of the centuries he’d spent there, changing his appearance every time he’d reapply ), as well as to pass the time in a way that would not aggravate lingering traces of his father’s influence. It was while he learnt from the Amurta Darshan when he met Danae. With time to spare, and admittedly intrigued by the utter madness of her ideas and her equally frenzied determination to see such impossible fantasies made reality, he signed a contract to assist her in any endeavors she may undertake for them, as she would his own, per its terms. They would maintain it dedicatedly before briefly parting ways when her illicit studies were discovered.

         He himself remained at the Akademiya mere weeks before deciding his life had dulled too much without her odd ideas and eccentric ( not to mention at times exceedingly cruel ) methods, setting off to travel again in search of her. Traveling through his homeland, he would come to meet Ozzy, whom he would follow to Mondstadt, after he’d found him interesting company, especially when the man would encourage him to not feel so wary of the karmic debt’s influence. There, he would become a founding member of his gang when it resulted that the man’s interest had been likewise piqued and thus given him the invitation to stay.

          Ozzy was able to locate and drag Danae into his business thanks to Da’Lun’s scheming and using the terms of their contract to rope her in.

         What could he say? He would be a fool to let one of his favorite toys go. Just as he would the chance to see what would come out of putting so many volatile little components together.

           Surely the end result would be most spectacular indeed.

Oswald “Ozzy” Beauregard / Ásvaldr Bjornsson (appears early 20s): One of the remaining survivors of Khaenri’ah, though he keeps that card very close to his chest, having fled the nation after the surviving the Cataclysm. Only Da’Lun is actually aware of said fact, due to their shared longevity and closer bond compared to many of the others. If asked of his origin, he will always give the half-truth that he is of the Sumeru region. He currently gets a kick out of pretending to work for himself at his little tavern named Fleur de Nuit, from where his gang operates under the guise of a legitimate business.

         Stricken with immortality, Ozzy tends to push the limits of what said immortality will do for him, especially since his perception of pain and danger has been skewed severely by his curse. For the longest time, he had wandered about the desert and Sumeru’s forests, picking fight after fight using the very Abyssal energies he’d been corrupted with. Even with no formal combat training outside teachings he learnt as apprentice mage ( these very learnings being the reason he was was to maintain his appearance as it was, without succumbing to the curse of wilderness ), his increasingly frenzied manner tended to allow him to prove a match for the hilichurls, Eremites, and Treasure Hoarders he encountered, leaving brutalized corpses and wreckages in his wake, and plenty a scar to mar his own body. Some of which healed worse off than others due to his inability and gradual lack of real want to properly care for himself. Eventually, he would be found and formally taken in by the Fatui when he had too grievously injured to fight them off.

Not that he would have wanted to even if he could, considering how much they piqued his interest.

        He had been with them long before Danae had joined, having willingly surrendered himself to be experimented on by Dottore out of boredom and curiosity to see what the man could get out of it. As well as a vain hope to possibly stave off his Erosion and keep his mind with the Abyssal energies eating away at it when his own treatments would prove increasingly inefficient. Needless to say, Ozzy’s sanity had still taken quite the toll throughout the centuries he’s been alive, and the outright torture he faced through the time he’d been with them had truly not helped in the least. Especially not while being injected with god remains had steadily twisted up his mind, more and more. The Abyssal energy he’d already been afflicted with had ironically been what helped keep himself through it though, allowing him to fully assimilate the god’s lingering energy into himself and steady his condition.

         When Danae had decided to desert the Fatui, she broke Ozzy out from containment and left him an experimental Delusion to have him serve as a diversion so she could escape, figuring he would have some exploitable grudge that would prompt him to seek vengeance. And he served his purpose well, slaughtering Fatuus after Fatuus he encountered with the three tail-like, bladed chains he could manifest from it. He did so with great delight and utmost zeal, damn near like an animal in frenzy. But in truth, he really cared not for getting even. He rather merely wanted enrichment, as he called it.

         While Danae had figured the Delusion would simply kill him in the end, his own longevity and the god remains he’d assimilated allowed him to use the Delusion so freely without truly debilitating consequences, though still at certain cost to his body after particularly prolonged usage. It severely aggravates the place with the god remains had been injected, low at his right side where the Abyssal energy was at its highest concentration. Due to it also being the place of his most severe wound and one of the ones that truly never healed properly, it leaves him feeling as though something had been gouged right out every time he’d stop its use. Still, in the moment of that first use, all he could think of was the thrill of the fighting and being able to run about, free at last. To this day, that very thrill is what keeps him using it, even knowing the painful consequences.

         The euphoric high he felt back then lead him to completely destroy the location all together, both in his own kills and in tampering the delicate machinery that would consume the rest of the location along with it in the ensuing explosions. He himself made his getaway before the destruction caught him up along with everything else, after finding and bringing along a fellow victim ( not that he consciously saw himself as such ) of the Fatui experiments.

         After hearing tales of Monstadt, her homeland, the idea of a nation whose Archon had no real say in its ruling appealed to him greatly, Thus, he would hijack and man a Fatui ship to gain leave off Inazuma, heading to the Southern side of Liyue, and making their journey back to Mond that way.

         Ozzy’s aim in making the gang had solely been to collect interesting people to surround himself with, nothing more nothing less. Something to help stave off ennui and keep his mind sharp; a little pet project he could maintain or ruin at his leisure when the time came. It only became a formal organization incidentally, but he finds it a decent pastime to run it and especially the business he and Da’Lun came up with as a front. Especially when he genuinely ended up attached to a certain select few, though he maintains it is only out of how entertaining the lot of them are, themselves and with him.

          Due to past experiences, particularly what he witnessed during the Cataclysm, he has a mild to severely violent visceral reaction to fire based abilities; which is only worsened by his love of deliberately avoiding triggering his own phobia and habit of gambling with extreme stakes, typically involving fire in some way.

         What sort of gambling man would he be if he let something like that stop him, after all?

Elisabeth “Eliza” Merrimack (18) - A Mondsadt-born girl whose family lineage traces back to the Imunlaukr clan, after the clan had broken up due to a schism. Originally Visionless, she would gain a Dendro Vision ( chronologically set late in the events of the Sumeru Archon Quest ) and take up Catalyst-based combat.

         The eldest daughter of her main family at the time, she had a horse riding accident in her youth that left her paraplegic, exhibiting little to no movement in her legs even after treatment at the church. The fact that it had taken them some time to get her there, seeing as she had been lost for days, was probably behind it. Regardless, her family despaired at the incident, frantically trying everything they could to heal her, even as the church insisted nothing could be done. Even as she herself tried to reason it was alright; that she didn't need to be, having accepted their verdict when her family could not. And they never truly did.

         When she was fifteen, the Merrimacks ultimately accepted an offer from the Fatui to aid them ( though in hindsight, Eliza couldn’t but wonder if it had been seen as an excuse to have them take her off their hands ), and carted her off far from home. Betrayed at her family giving her away so easily, especially after she realized they would not check up on her or visit, Eliza at last fell into despair after seeing what awaited her at the hands of the Fatui. Her parents had been lied to, after all–Eliza had not been taken in to receive care, instead becoming subjected to experiments with god remains like every other subject they got their hands on.

          And no one would be aware of that to come save her. Assuming they would even care to try if they did.

         Things began to change years later after meeting Danae, who was assigned to oversee her. To be precise, Danae had at first been in charge of her post-op treatments, ensuring the effects of the experiments didn’t disrupt her vitals and in keeping her alive overall. They began to know more of each other and interact after the then Fatuus had been promoted and would have her as an exclusive subject, due to her ideas and personal project.

          Even with how callous Danae could be, she and Eliza eventually came to get along well due to Eliza coming to understand Danae’s wordless gestures and tough-love care after the former had begun to get attached to Eliza. Said care usually being in the form of snuck treats and material comforts. It wasn’t until later on in their friendship that Eliza learned it had been because she reminded Danae of her younger brother, that she had specifically requested to oversee her treatments because she wanted to help her like she'd intended to help him. Learning why and how she intended to do that did embitter Eliza rather than endear her though.

That said, they truly became each other’s first real friend and confidante after Eliza had been–even if gruffly–encouraged by Danae to start speaking up for herself and the first thing Eliza did was tell her off for thinking she ought to ‘fix’ her and any other person, for that matter. It had been a gut reaction based on Eliza’s own resentment of how her family regarded her as well as the god remains in her acting up due to her agitation.

         Still, even while the burst of temper had startled Eliza, it had been enough for Danae to not only respect the girl, but also to begin to doubt her own goals. Most notably, it was enough to prompt the Fatuus to pick up her old ideas anew rather than continuing the original experiment plan she’d had altogether, choosing to help make amends in fashioning Eliza a special wheelchair to take her out for enrichment. Not that Danae would ever admit that’s what it had been for, even in present day, but Eliza understood and was grateful for it all the same.

            The day Danae broke out, she had actively tried to reach Eliza to bring her along, but was unable to in the chaos she’d wrought and severely underestimated. Thinking her dead, she prioritized her own survival and left without a second thought.

           Eliza hadn’t realized she’d been abandoned once again, rather had been merely confused by the happening and chaos around her. She patiently awaited Danae to come, trusting the Fatuus to soon fill her in and protect her if need be. Instead, it was the newly freed Ozzy who had found Eliza and offered to bring her along after having slaughtered her guards and in hearing her request to see the stars outside before he ‘put her out of her misery’ had moved him.

          And especially because she then tried to cut his throat the instant he got close enough to try and carry her.

          After convincing her he did want to bring her along, not kill her, she at last conceded and let him take her away from the wreckage of the lab. Eliza's tales of her home nation had been the reason Ozzy had chosen to settle there, and she was more than happy to return with him, though flares ups of the god remains in her did pose some problems both were unsure of how to handle. Not that he trusted anyone in Teyvat to be able to take care of her as they should, especially considering how she’d ended up in the Fatui’s hands in the first place.

         Still, she is grateful he took it upon himself to allow her to stay by his side as his ward, even while she couldn’t offer him much in return in terms of fighting skill, money, or knowledge besides that of her home. When he founded his gang, she did find purpose in aiding with the logistics aspect of running the front for his gang, using the learnings of her youth. Without her, it would have fallen apart from the start, Ozzy would always say, leaving her giddy with excitement and her heart full. After finding and enacting a solution to quell the unstable god remains in her ( taken place post-Sumeru archon quest, story-wise ), she would start taking a more active role in the gang as aid to their resident healer. In addition, her wheelchair would be adapted for combat, to suit her needs and her Vision’s abilities.

          She is well aware that elemental concentrations worsen the god remains' extreme and dangerous flare ups, but she still constantly insists upon staying with everyone else in the gang and utilizing a soothing device relying on Elemental energy anyways. She’d rather spend it in comfort and with her friends, even the lot of them encourage her to when she frets what could come out of it ( even Ozzy telling her the risk of that danger is exactly why they are so comfortable was a twisted solace that wound up giving her more confidence to accept her wants to be with them ). Once the traces of god remains in her would be sealed off enough, she is able to head out with them with her wheelchair from that point on, as well as set at ease her fears of hurting them. She still feels chronic flares up of pain due to her affliction, but with less risk of it going out of control and killing her dear friends, she can bear it a lot easier.

          After all she’d been through, this was nothing. Nothing, in the face of being able to smile and delight in her life to the fullest once more.

Durene (19): Hailing from Natlan, Durene is a demigodess, born from the union of a mortal man, Jevaun, and a nature godess Jaladri, whom he had ensnared with a talisman along with several of his friends and fellow warriors when her tempests had threatened their home village. She had fallen for him when he had been watching over her, and had been the kindest of her captors, eventually conceding to be his wife after enough time in his company, as well as certain courtship of his had won her over.

          Even while bound to human form, Jaladri had been content in their union at first, up until her husband began to get exceedingly paranoid and possessive of her following being imbued with several of her blessings that granted him great strength and renown in his tribe. She began to grow miserable, cursing Jevaun and unable to do much to fight him as he was, as her powers had become considerably weaker compared to his over the years, especially after Durene’s birth. And it didn’t help that it was especially so because the man kept her away from the sea, an important source of vitality for her. Still the goddess did not fault her daughter upon her birth, teaching Durene the ways to be a soothsayer and healer so she could properly go through the initiation process and her actual training in the village once she was of the apt age. At the same time, Jevaun had taught Durene the art of war and trained with her every chance he got, hoping his daughter could bring him renown and glory with her exploits in the yearly games.

          Durene took to both her learnings quite well, eager at the thought of being able to contribute to village and her family this way. She particularly excelled in serving as an herbalist and healer, though she did work hard to improve her skills when it came to divination to impress her mother. It always did seem to put Jaladri in a far better mood whenever she did, as well as when she would listen to her mother’s tales of gods and places she’d been, of her life prior to being confined to mortal form. Of their Archon, and her great deeds. More than anything, she loved singing for her mother, songs she learned from her and the others in the village, seeing how her voice seemed to bring the goddess some semblance of solace, when she felt her weakest.

         At twelve years old, Durene had bonded with a Koholasaurus she'd named Aje, who helped her gather materials from the seas and magma caves, often keeping Jaladri company whenever Durene would gather from the land, or while she worked to make her treatments or to preserve her supplies. Around that time, she also learned the full story of her mother’s plight. Horrified and moved, she would elect to repay her mother all she’s taught her in concocting a clever plan to gleam out from her drunken father the location of each piece of the talisman needed to complete the needed ritual and free the goddess. With this knowledge, Durene was able to find and bring them to her mother with Aje's aid. The goddess would aid her in completing the necessary steps once it had all come together. As her bonds would break and her strength returned, Jaladri lamented being unable to take her child with her. Promising to return with a means to ascend her as soon as she could, the goddess would transform into a pillar hundreds of crabs that would scatter into the sea and leave Durene standing alone at the outcropping. Bittersweet and all-too brief as their parting was, she felt content in knowing her mother would be happy at last.

          The good mood would not last long, as Jevaun flew into a deadly rage in realizing what had happened when he awoke to the sounds of a howling sea storm after she returned home.

          His rage did not frighten her, even as he demanded answers. Did the she not care about their village? Of what the goddess would do to them, now that she was free? Of why she’d been confined to mortality in the first place?

Durene truly cared not, insisting Jaladri had borne and suffered enough under his suffocating hold. If they were all to be destroyed in her vengeful wrath, it was for the slight they’d done against her, and thus truly fair.

          Her answers would brand her a traitor in the eyes of her father and, to his claims, their people. To ensure the goddess wouldn’t completely destroy them, he killed Aje and locked Durene away, making made sure Jaladri could never find her and that no one else would in turn ever think to help free her, as no one else would be aware of where she'd 'disappeared' to. As far as anyone knew, she and her Saurian companion had been killed while gathering materials.

          She couldn’t say how much time had passed since he’d left her there. Days, then weeks, then months went by languishing in her prison, in the presence of no one else but her father, whenever he would stop by to bring her food. If her refusal to concede to his pleas to betray her mother and attempts to break out didn’t enrage him enough to leave her to her own devices the next few, that was. It wasn’t until she’d exhausted every desperate, rage and grief-stricken attempt at escaping that Durene formulated a proper plan to escape.

          The next time Jevaun came to see her, he found his daughter seemingly unresponsive. The man freed her from her bonds and frantically attempted to wake her, only to find his daughter conscious after all, taking advantage of his closeness to grab hold of him. The man was only able to catch a brief glimpse of her newly bequeathed Anemo Vision mere moments before she would sap the breath from his lungs. Her face, twisted in every trace of hatred and resentment she felt towards him, was the last thing he’d ever see as he would succumb. Durene would hold no remorse for her actions, even as the village people would come to find her and try to seize her in retaliation.

          Escaping their clutches and leaving them to the mercy of her mother’s wrath, Durene would take to travel about Teyvat as a wandering soothsayer, making a pretty coin on divination and healing. Truly, that whole time she had been seeking a way she may ascend to join her mother, sparing no expense wherever she may go. She'd even forged a binding vow for herself, giving up her tongue, and thus ability to speak in exchange for power. Through her journey, she fostered a particular resentment born in her in Sumeru and the way the Akademiya had gone about managing knowledge at the time ( such as the reason they had rejected entry for her, thinking her to be of the desert folk ). Which lead to her resolving to ensure that place would be the first she may pay a visit to once she reached her goal, to tear it asunder for the offense, seeing as its god would surely not be able to match her when the time came.

          It was in being found by Ozzy in Liyue and being requested to come with him, Eliza, and Da'Lun along the way that she came to have company once more. The final founding member of his gang, she would happily settle in Mond with them. But by no means does this mean she had given up on her goal. With Da'Lun and his influence, as well as the addition of Danae later on, Durene would find use in the team’s members to further seek the information she required for her own ultimate goal. Who knew, perhaps she would just need to be a little more patient, just a little bit longer.

           Well, fine by her. That, she had plenty practice in.

Jaeda Purmizra (18): The daughter of an affluent family in Sumeru and the most recent addition to Ozzy’s gang. She joined them after running away from home and continuously hitching rides on caravans then later merchant ships that guided her to Dorman Port in Mondstadt. From there, she hid among a lucrative-looking delivery, which lead her to Ozzy’s tavern, where she would be promptly caught for having stolen foods from the convoy and attempted to make off with other items to try and sell in the main city. Danae had nearly left her bound and at the complete mercy of Treasure Hoarders as punishment, had Eliza not intervened and personally pleaded her case to Ozzy. He accepted to take Jade in as well, only because he knew it would anger Danae in the process, and because he was intrigued by her Vision in particular,

          Born male and then named Jahar, Jade had been the family’s sole heir and was raised into the role accordingly ( read: impossibly strict ) by her mother. It was thanks to a young servant girl who tended to her every need that she even began to experiment with and realized her actual gender identity. All because the girl had wanted to play dress up and needed a friend to help her, not realizing all the decorum she was breaking in daring to ask the heir, of all people, such a thing.

          It had been quite the relief in realizing it, though, even when she hadn’t been actively searching for it. But to her, it meant everything from then on. And it meant despair, as she continued to masquerade as her mother’s precious only son and heir. She didn’t want to upset her mother, after all, especially since the woman banked so much of her bid for power as head of the family upon her. So she kept that her little secret, playing with the girl and growing up happily alongside her over the years.

         Up until she and the girl had been caught playing.

         The girl had been punished severely for her ‘crime’ and Jade was forced to bear witness to the bloody ordeal for humoring her. Only after the girl was left near death did Jade face her own punishment, the horrid humiliation her mother enforced upon her before an audience of the woman’s closest friends and advisers.

          The anger she felt in seeing the life dwindling in her friend’s eyes and the cruelty she faced ignited a single-minded determination to make every last person in the room pay for her beloved friend's pain, enough to for her to black out, coming to only when her mother had screamed.

Snapping back to consciousness, Jade felt bloodcurdling horror and cathartic relief in realizing she’d burnt her mother’s lovely face beyond recognition, every other cruel person who’d participated in her torment left as naught but charred corpses in her wake. In spotting the gleaming, blood-red gem clutched tightly in her hand.

          She didn’t stay long, stealing her friend away and running away from home with an intent to bring her along. They could make a life together away from them now, she was sure of it. She had a Pyro Vision after all, she was no longer powerless to protect them!

            With the severity of the girl’s wounds though, her friend had little time left. With her last breath, the girl made her promise to live life for the both of them and to be happy. To stay safe, and never let anyone dictate how she may live her life ever again.

          That day, Jahar died along with the servant girl. In his place and bearing the name of that girl to carry on her memory, Jaeda would set off to find that happiness she’d promised.

Mako du Raie (16): A Visionless young heir to a prolific merchant family in Fontaine, and the member who had joined the Snake-Eyes gang before Danae and Tua had. His father, Benshi, had been a doushin from Inazuma and met Mako’s mother, Marie, while she learnt the trade from her father, prior to the Sakoku Decree being fully enacted. Mako is their illegitimate child, though he was claimed to be his mother’s younger brother to save face for the family. As such, he was raised primarily under the strict watch of his grandmother and even stole the title of heir to the family from Marie, due to the story they’d given him.

         He took to his studies like a fish to water, being quite bright and precocious for his age. And in his eagerness to pursue his grandmother’s approval, he went far above and beyond the efforts his mother had ever put into her own. The family agreed he was definitely a far more suitable heir than she as a result, though he avoided his mother’s jealous wrath by asking she be involved in everything he did. Like this, the woman’s temperament was appeased, her going as far as to even take credit behind his talent and boast of him to all who would meet them.

          In all honesty, he would have been content enough handing her the reins of the family, had a business venture to Mondstadt not changed his mind entirely. His mother’s boasting lead to drawing Ozzy’s attention, the man having been seeking a nice, convenient little liaison for his gang’s front. With the boy being as young as he was, not only would he be easy to exploit, but his talent and influence would absolutely prove worth the effort to draw him in, just as he'd hope.

          As such, Da'Lun would be the one to meet and gain his trust. To persuade him to join Ozzy’s gang as their merchant contact. And, to ensure Mako’s position and control over his family’s affairs, Da'Lun would even go as far as to encourage Mako to eliminate each and every family member that could possibly stand in his way of managing it all himself.

           Mako couldn’t help but give in, even with how complacent he’d been before. Even being fully aware of the horrific task he would have to taken on to ensure his control over the family's business and finances. All it took was being given the affection and doting he always wanted, rather than lauded praises for his potential and saccharine-sweet yet ultimately empty words he knew better than to believe. It took one friend, who cared and spoiled him so, to make him turn his previous wishes of simplicity and contentment from before and pursue a more ruthless ambition without a qualm. Even as he gazed into his mother’s dulling eyes, frozen in horror and anguish, he would only feel a strong sense of satisfaction as he stepped over her without a qualm. As he would make his way over to Da'Lun, who would fondly ruffle his hair with genuine praises aplenty before carrying him back to Ozzy’s little haunt.

           He knew full well he was to be used by Ozzy’s group, having realized it early on in Da'Lun’s attempts to worm his way into his heart. But once he’d met with the others in the gang and Ozzy himself, there was no longer a single trace of lingering doubt in his heart that his brutal choice had been in his best interest. Looking at the lot of them gathered to see him, all varying shades of proud of what he’d accomplished, no matter how horrific, he determined the excitement and validation that came with what they did was a lot better than living his life within conventional rules.

            Where else could he feel like he was at the top of the world like this?

Tusitala / Tua (20): Originally hailing from a coastal village in Natlan then migrating to and eventually settling in Liyue due to his father’s relentless pursuit of riches and lack of interest in the wars that ravaged their nation, Tua had been a Treasure Hoarder well before his coming of age. He is rather proud of the fact, too, often boasting of his own successes compared to other factions, especially after he’s fought his way through a group of them in a show of his own Natlanian battle prowess. 

At first it had been at his father’s urging that he joined and stayed with the Treasure Hoarders they’d met up with on their way to Liyue Harbor. It was only to serve as something to make for a side hustle while his father took care of other business dealings at first ( taking care of logistics for that gang while Tua himself got to take on the more dangerous aspects, as he also managed an artifact appraisal business with things Tua and the gang would bring in ), then it became Tua’s sole obsession as his own greed grew, right along his addiction for every victory and bounty he secured them.

         Tua was quite content with this life, thinking himself the luckiest man in the world to have this chance. Even if he did have to surrender near all of his share of their spoils to his father, to quell the man's avarice ( and to ensure the man didn't try and take it all from him, by force or outright theft ). But with what he was allowed to keep or what he managed to squirrel away to pass off as such later, Tua would take to decorating himself handsomely to show off his successes. As such, he’s got several piercings ( many of which he did himself ) along his body, as well as bits of gold embedded in his skin, particularly about his shoulders. He also has a few tattoos to commemorate his victories and his comrades, which glow whenever he uses his Vision.

          Speaking of, his Geo Vision came to him during a show of his conviction to protect his Treasure Hoarder ‘family’ by all means and any costs. In this case, it had been in protecting them from a squadron of Milileth by the skin of his own teeth then later its aid, having chosen to cover them on his own to ensure they could make off with a particularly rich score. Because of it, he became quite popular among them, with the lot thinking he would lead them to the greatest successes and eventually take over rival gangs and become their overall leader.

          The thought strongly appealed to him, enough that he resolved to make it a reality. As leader, he would have a greater right to a bigger share of the spoils, and he could be independent enough to break away from his father, too. And of course, being able to protect his closest comrades and look after them with greater responsibility and authority. That was his greatest desire above all else, one he would swear before them during the celebration of his blessing by the Lord of Geo.

          Though he did eventually fail to keep his promise to them when a conflict with Fatui, and severely underestimating them, left his group all slaughtered or near death, himself included. With his last lingering traces of full consciousness, he lamented not being strong enough to protect them all, and expected to meet his shameful end along with them.

          However his survival had been ensured when Danae had stumbled across the massacre. Though initially focused on eliminating the injured and resting Fatui and with her own hatred of Treasure Hoarders having her near ready to ditch them all as it was, it was due to her having determined his potential usefulness upon noting his Vision that prompted her to nurse him back to health.

          Deliberately leaving all the others to their fates, as she didn’t need them.

          When Tua would ask later after awakening, she would swear they were all goners by the time she had found him. That Tua had supposedly been the only one strong enough to survive because of his Vision.

          Grief would take hold, but he wouldn’t linger on that feeling too much. Not enough for it to consume him, anyways. Not when his savior made him an offer to come with her, a suggestion to carry on in his comrades’ names and honor their memories in continuing to plunder and seek the treasures they'd so craved. Feeling both indebted to her and a thrumming need to protect someone once more now that he was without a family ( he dared not return to his father nor join up with a new Hoarder faction after such a harrowing defeat ), he would choose to follow Danae to Mondstadt.

          Along the way and upon reaching their destination, they would take up mercenary work and end up wrapped up in the group they currently associate with now, after participating in an attempt on the young head of the Snake-Eyes gang alongside others like them. Said hit actually having placed by the young head, Ozzy, himself, using it as a ploy for recruitment to test if Danae had been worth Da'Lun's recommendation to his group. Tua likewise making it out alive alongside her and having demonstrated his immense strength and capabilities had been the icing on the cake. He was more than happy to accept the offer to join after that, no need for incentives or anything.

          Well, okay, maybe the pay grade and further chances to seek riches while with them was a pretty good incentive. That, and being able to take part in a whole new gang he could protect and grow stronger with helped convince him, too. There was something reassuring about being able to protect them them of all people, those who didn’t need to depend wholly on him and could defend themselves should his strength fail them. But would still rely on his skills to add to their own, and truly ensure they would all be okay. And he will make sure they would be. He refused to lose any one of 'his own' ever again, swearing the very same oath he gave his late comrades before.

          He will protect his newfound family, with all he has. Whatever it takes.

Mason Ennosigaeus (17): Sidon’s actual biological child. He was stolen away from his family by Morjena when she had found out of his existence, snatching him during the chaos she'd set off after tricking Eremites into looting the caravan the man's wife had traveled with on her way to the main city. It was a move meant to ensure Danae had no competition to being the man’s heir, especially after the woman and her attendants had been killed in the ensuing struggle. Danae was supposed to kill Mason upon being left with him, as Morjena had thought she’d thoroughly beaten the heart out of her. When it turned out that she hadn’t and even wound up with an attachment to the boy, Mason became an opportunity for Morjena to ensure Danae stuck around, regardless of the abuse she faced, regardless of how much harder she became to control the older she got.

           Mason himself was frequently abused by Morjena while Danae was gone and quickly came to rely on the latter for everything. Not that it necessarily meant he was entirely helpless. His weak constitution left him frail as it was, sure, but in truth, Danae never failed to endlessly dote on him every chance she was home to see him, even going as far as to sacrifice her own meals for his sake. She would even forgo sleep to guard him against Morjena as best she could, and when she did, she would deliberately sleep in a way that if the woman pulled anything, she would be the one to take the brunt of her mother’s abrupt assaults. Every little thing he could ever want or need and THEN some was his at his command, and without hesitation. He need only ask. She couldn't offer him comforts like reassurances and gentleness, but this, this she could do for him. And he was wholly all for it, appreciating the one good thing he had amid the horrid life he was stuck in.

             Inevitably, her boundless devotion and their environment twisted him up as badly as it had her, albeit in a different way. The one who truly wound up heartless and cruel, through and through, just as Morjena was, had been him.

          He may come off as shy and unassuming but in truth, he is twice as vicious and self-serving as Danae, behind the gentle demeanor. He is the one person who can ask of her to do anything at his whim, no matter what it is, no matter how hurt she would end up in the process. And he's used that, time and again to sic her on whoever it was he so chose, be it strangers for his own amusement or even people he's realized she started to get a little too close to, in selfish need to ensure she wouldn't start giving away her loyalties. To test that she truly did mean her loyalties to him, and act accordingly if she hesitated or doubted. In his eyes, he still needed her to survive, after all. Especially after an encounter with hilichurls had nearly taken his life, and had cost him his legs just above his knees, even after being rushed to Birmastan.

          At the same time, he is also the person others could use to strongarm Danae into damn near anything if they hold him captive, as any threats to him lead her to be all to eager to comply for his safety ( though woe betide those who lose him as a bargaining chip at any point during ). He is the One and Only Thing she has left to lose, but the feeling is not mutual. It hasn’t been from the moment she’d left him at the Akademiya on his own.

          Even having been left in the lap of luxury when she'd been forced to flee, being torn from her side and the endless doting, from his greatest asset, left him stewing in a resentful rage. His bitterness and broken heart earned him a Cryo Vision amid the enraged outburst within his room, gleaming enticingly within the wreckage of her final gift to him. That Vision, however, he deemed the greatest gift of all, and one he thoroughly believes was the Tsaritsa’s personal wish to him and show of support.

         As such, as of earning his Vision, he swiftly abandoned the idea of staying at the Akademiya. Instead, he sought to join the Fatui, using his power as incentive to be kept of use to them alongside the Cicin Mages. Though he was sure to mask what he did, telling Danae he got to travel for his studies so she never suspects. So her constant stream of money and gifts from afar never end, having them brought to him by agents he roped into his whims that happened to be stationed in Sumeru.

          In learning she had also once joined the Fatui only to abruptly disappear, he knew before any of the lot that she was still alive, and elected to keep this fact to himself, to ensure none of his comrades could seek out and find her. However his intentions are far from protective out of any genuine concern. He has full intentions to personally hunt her down and make her face the full consequences for abandoning him. And the Fatui, too, of course. But if possible, he would like to be the one to bring her end himself. To look her right in the eyes as he would use his Vision to make of her a pristine statue for himself to keep.

         Maybe then she’ll actually keep her promise to never leave his side.

[niilue]

—when you can't resist it and you spank vi—

cw: fem reader, funny and silly situation, drabble, mention of spank, vi ashamed.

ekko's hiding place was relatively quiet, except for the sound of metal tools clinking and the occasional scattered conversation. you’d been wandering around, trying to find something useful to do, but your attention kept drifting toward vi.

she was bent over a table, working on her gauntlets as usual. her movements were meticulous and focused, and the furrow in her brow made it clear she was completely absorbed in her task. her jacket rested on a nearby chair, leaving her fitted tank top on display, highlighting the defined lines of her shoulders and muscles.

but it wasn’t her tank top that caught your attention—it was her pants. vi always wore those long, dark pants, snug and fitted, as if they were made specifically for her. the way they clung to her body, outlining every curve, was almost mesmerizing.

and now, with her leaning over the table, all her weight resting on her arms, the fabric stretched in a way that made everything stand out even more. you couldn’t help but notice how the curve of her backside was perfectly outlined, firm and athletic.

for a moment, a mischievous spark ignited in your mind, growing quickly into a reckless idea.

"why not?" you thought to yourself, a sly grin spreading across your face.

you crept up behind her, careful not to make a sound on the metal floor. vi didn’t even notice your presence, too focused on adjusting some mechanism on her gauntlet.

the opportunity was perfect. without giving it too much thought, you raised your hand and delivered a slap to her backside so loud it echoed across the hideout, causing a few nearby heads to turn in surprise.

the impact made vi’s backside jiggle slightly, the material of her pants rippling briefly from the force before snapping back into place.

“WHAT THE FUCKKK?!” vi shouted, straightening up so fast she nearly knocked over the table. her hand immediately flew to her backside as she whipped around to face you, her expression a mix of shock and rage.

her cheeks, normally pale, were now tinged with a deep red, the flush crawling up her neck. you couldn’t help it—you burst into laughter, bending over as you tried to catch your breath.

“sorry, sorry!” you managed to say between giggles, though your tone was anything but apologetic. “i couldn’t resist!”

vi stared at you, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. she looked as though she was trying to process what had just happened, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t quite find the words. finally, she pointed a shaky finger at you.

“what the hell makes you think that was a good idea?!” she demanded.

“well…” you began, shrugging with a playful grin. “with those pants and that pose, you were practically begging for it.”

vi’s jaw dropped. her hands fell to her hips as she stared at you, clearly caught between laughing and yelling. she opted for yelling.

“begging for it? are you kidding me?! it hurt, you idiot!”

“Ah, come on, vi,” you said, trying to soften the moment. “it was a little token of affection.”

“that wasn't affection! that was a fucking attack,” she retorted, twitching slightly as if the sting was still present.

"i honestly didn't think it would move that much. it was the highlight of my day.” you replied, unable to keep a smile off your face.

“SHUT UP!” vi snapped, her voice cracking slightly as her blush deepened. her hands moved to cover her backside defensively, as if to shield it from another ambush.

“is it still stinging?” you asked, feigning innocence. “or was it just a really good hit?”

vi’s hands slowly dropped to her sides as she narrowed her eyes at you, her face now an unmistakable shade of red. for a moment, you thought she might lunge at you, but instead, she took a deep breath, her shoulders visibly tensing.

“get ready to run,” she growled, her voice dangerously low. “because when i catch you, you’re not walking away from this.”

“is that a challenge?” you teased, taking a step back.

“no,” vi said, her tone chilling. “it’s a damn promise.”

before you could say another word, vi started moving toward you. you did the only sensible thing: you bolted.

your laughter echoed through the hideout as vi chased after you, her growls of frustration barely audible over your hysterical giggling. you knew you were in trouble, but you couldn’t stop thinking about her flustered, embarrassed expression.

totally worth it.

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 working on love - business party!

────୨ৎ────

content: fluff, kinda silce of life, company party, mutual pining, alcohol mentioned, bestie Jimin is a wingman for em, smoking together, some cutesy kissing, Jk speaking in satoori mentioned

note from cherry: I´m tired of writing smut so here´s this request without smut.. sorry cloud anonie! ily!!!!,,,,this might get a pt2 if you guys want!!

────୨ৎ────

This is the best night you´ve had for a while. A tight, rather modest cream dress, hours spend on that flowy blowout and natural, brown toned make up all sum up the immediate glow radiating from your figure- glowing, for what seems to be the first time after ending that draining relationship.

Wooyoung was a good guy in the beginning. A gentleman inside the crowd modern day Elvis's, someone who did all the smooth talking, picking you up with a boquet and your favorite food, someone who would have bought you the moon if you asked him too.

Similar to how prominent and illuminated tonights moon hangs up so high in the sky, his love dim, not necessarily bright or precisely large- nonetheless, still it felt as thought he was the single source of hope in a darkness you grew comfortable in,

Wooyoungs love never felt raw- like love. apart from there being small muffled butterflies inside your stomach, there was nothing that exceeded any and all expectations you had set, nothing that breached the occasional warmth in your heart when he had once again bought the same boquet.

You had simply swallowed that down, accepting that the hunger you've been yearning for must be yet another illusion that TV has instilled in the minds of vulnerable women, longing for betterment within their limits of fulfilment

Soon enough, even that small light suffocated in your tight hold, you find out that asking for him to stay respectful and loyal seemed to have been too much. He couldn´t keep his promises and when he stopped being present, it only took so much to figure out why.

"Another glass?" he raises his eyebrow, leaning the grey colored, suited body of his against the counter,

you throw back half the glass of champagne, the third one this past hour. Arguably, too much in too little time for a coorprate work party held for networking,

"yes Jimin, i swear I´ll stop after this one" the city lights twinkle from below- from this 12th floor panorama window, even the biggest cars and buildings look small, people become anonymous figures, they loose their character,

become insignificant.

"you´re lying through your teeth" the blonde coworker says, Jimin could read you like a book; from coworkers to friends and quickly, there was nothing too personal to share with him.

His bright smile could never make you get too mad at him when he reported back all of his drunken mistakes and hook ups,

Alcohol brings out the best in people,

and the worst out of the good people

your head turns back to him, leaving the city to continue behind you,

"I know, i just need to breathe a bit"

"with workplace booze? come on"

his chuckle lights up the mood a little bit, "okay, just don´t embarrass us" he says, patting your back as if to reassure his statement

you promise him not to, moving a strand to the side of your face as he gives you a half smile, wandering off to what you presume to be the buffet.

While staring at your chrome nails tapping away at the small glass, the loud chattering from around you fades out briefly, almost as if everyone had completely gone silent,

thats when you spot him; another star emerges,

another radiant glow, you could see him clearer than any other person around, not because he´s tall- broad shoulders and parted, short hair peeking out from the people around- no, he shone like no other

Blurred out the countless voices and handsome faces that thralled around him, almost as if his presence screamed of his arrival, announcing himself as a starlight without even catching a tone of his voice- a glimmer of how he would pronounce your name,

No knowledge of his own unique one, in a strange way, he tugs at something wihin you- a spot you had only discovered now, as if you had met him in a past life or, rather as if you were supposed to see him

Jungkook´s breath gets choked up within his throat,

almost as if the collegues around all parted to make way for you- to reveal your purity, your radiance to him, his eyes land on you like fate,

it must have been fate, seeing you smile slightly with that glass in your hand, before turning your head back to the panorama window,

he watches your bouncy hair move in slow motion, the glitter on your dress sparkles under the warm, dim light of the confrence room,

The curves of your face resonate with him like a painting you see in a museum, only that you had known that painting before- you'd seen it, this being the first you could feel it, feel its vibrant colors meet your eyes in a fight of admiration and anxiety

"wow" his best mate whispers, hitting him in the side with his elbow,

suddenly, everything returns to normal, humans clouding the line of sight to what he must have deemed an angel, he almost sighs in disappointment, still, your glow reflects on the ceiling, disappearing as you also get lost within the crowd yourself, hiding behind the facade of a regular office worker

"what?" he speaks, turning his attention back on his friend who has an impressed smile clutching the contoures of his face,

"what? dude, you were literally standing here with your jaw on the floor"

Jungkook rolls his eyes, "at least i had my eyes on her face you asshole"

Taehyung makes a face that resembles the expression "fair enough", looking between the huddle of people to try and spot you once more,

To no avail, in fact, he wouldn't have been able to, given you had slipped off right away, fetching for another glass of champagne and your emotional support blonde

Despite the chatter that swallows any small sound not relate to business, you can hear your heels clicking around frantically, thinking for any reason to get out of the room with him, any excuse you could deem plausible, until you end up on something that is undeniably so ordinary, it might even be true

In dire need of a whim of fresh air- a cooling breeze on your skin and definitely, in much more predictable nature, in dire need of a cigarette, you attempt to find him, ask him for a quick smoke break before resuming to the party

When you do find Jimin,it seems somebody familiar also did

Somebody who shouldn't feel magnetic, forcefully pulling you into their space,

Jimin's eye smile upon seeing you catches the two men around him off guard, whipping their heads to your direction swiftly,

his eyes land on yours, you can barely make out jimin's arm extending to wave in slow motion, as your eyes become chained to his,

His gaze becomes devoted to you, with every mindless step you take forward, it feeds he look in his eyes, strengthens the chain you've tangled yourself in with

"hey, where have you been y/n?" he asks, smacking your shoulder in an very unprofessional attempt to make your guy's relationship clear,

Jimin wasn't stupid, even he could feel how tense it had gotten,

"Y/n? Thats a pretty name"

You weren't supposed to know how he pronounces your name, he was destined to stay a fantasy,

"Thank you..?"

"Jungkook"

"you're the one with the nice name, Jungkook"

effortlessly, the syllables of his name roll of your tongue,

It send shivers to his body, jimin's eyes are burning a whole through the side of your face and you know it- you know he's aware how much this wasn't planned-

You weren't supposed to feel attraction like this, not to the intensity that ever movie you had seen creeped back up in a matter of seconds, instantly resuming that hopeful flame to burn once more, igniting not only fear- but need

Your eyes avert to the man in the black suit next to him,

"And your name?"

Jungkook's eyes still haven't left yours, awaiting their turn patiently, a lump in his throat grabbing at all rationality, begging for a chance to speak his mind- tell you that you're an angel- one he must have, must hold

For some strange reason,

Even though jungkook swore love was for the books, not for people like him

And even though a couple minutes of anyone's presence is far too little to utter the word love in the first place, he also knew it was inescapable the second you had granted him a smile

"Taehyung" he answers, sliding his hands into his pockets

"You're from wonder group right?" Jimin asks, returning the conversation back to the nuisance that your lame 9-5 is,

The two guys hum, Jungkook reponds first,

"Yeah. Came here because we were invited by the manager of your media department"

"Well, actually not we specifically were invited, everyone was" Taehyung chimes in,

"Media department? Thats.."

"Me. Wow, what a coincidence"

you freeze after your last statement - thinking foolishly, that meeting him maybe was supposed to happen - maybe when your fingers tiredly typed away at the keyboard when sending your invitation, you had to have laced it with a spell

It confirms what he had thought upon seeing your glow in the crowd of dull faces and grey tints,

Fate, you must be his fate

Jimin taps away at the wine glass in his hand, one you haven't caught notice of since your eyes had been occupied by someone who stood closer than a stranger should feel comfortable with,

In a desperate attempt to do something- anything about this encounter, you shoot jimin a look, a look that says help me, rescue me

"Do you smoke?" he asks, earning a nod from your mysterious soulmate and a very serious "nah" from his friend,

breathless, you manage to let out a small hum

"Let's go for one, tae are you good with waiting here a bit man?" Jungkook suggests, breaching out to ways he never knew he even possessed, ways to get you closer- to get to know a unreasonably familiar stranger no reason

other than having every single reason,

Taehyung nods, quickly, the three of you go outside the big glass door, finding a small spot behind the building to avoid any other, personal space invading collegue that might roam around for small talk

It didn't make sense, not even in the slightest when Jimin disappeared after saying he would go get the lighter he had forgotten, especially not when you had just lit your cigarette with one, perfectly working lighter

Jungkook caught on, laughing slightly at your friends attempt to leave you to a collective solitude, the fresh, 11 pm gust of wind feels like a gentle kiss to the face, almost like what you imagine him to feel like

You shouldn't be imagining that at all,

His head turns away from yours when he takes a drag, pushing the thick nicotine cloud out into the pure night,

You do the same, letting the bitter taste overtake your cherry flavored lip balm,

"Didn't know pretty girls smoke" he says, his deep voice thickly laced with a satoori you haven't remarked until this very sentence,

smiling at his sincerity, you take another drag, "didn't know busan men are this bold"

he doesn't feel like a stranger, far more comfortable than one- far less intimidating

"How did you know?" the small smirk on his lips forms into a gentle, bunny like smile once seeing that dead panned look on your face, merging with a hidden chuckle that manages to dominate your features in the end,

"Your satoori" you answer, watching as his plump lips wrap around the cigarette, he blows the smoke out, "hmm" he says, "do you like it?"

"A lot" truthfully, your answer tumbles out, scanning his response with a longing look on your face, the lit drug burns away between your fingers, forgotten, discarded by a much stronger one that's about 5'10 with an eyebrow piercing

"Glad to hear that, sweetheart " it slips past his lips, naturally yet simultaneously intentional- just like the way he makes sure to lay on his accent nicely

His cigarette bud drops to the floor, he puts it out, then turning to be stood in front of you, smiling softly with a newfound gentleness to his seductive appeal,

"You're beautiful, i mean that. I saw you earlier and i honestly couldn't stop thinking about you. I was going crazy looking for you"

he laughs slightly at the last bit, shyly toying with the metal ring at the corner of his bottom lip, the adrenaline of your sheer beauty and captivating allure overcoming and reluctance he would usually feel held back by, nothing could stop him from talking to the angel he had become keen on,

Your blush deepness, eyes flickering down to his lips, "thank you, i couldn't get my mind off of you either. Didn't know you were looking for me"

his slender fingers reach forward, moving a flowing strand behind your ear with ease before carefully caressing the side of your cheek with his knuckle, tender- soft, as if he had known not to apply pressure to your fragile heart and mind,

"Of course i was. Call me crazy but i swear you were glowing" both of you grin stupidly, you relish in the feeling of his plam flattening against your cheek, embracing it with care- he waited, waited for you to stop him, for you to tell him he's a crazy creep that needs to learn the meaning of a boundary

But you never do, instead, you silently thank him for his honesty, telling yourself he must be your soulmate,

That the television must have been right about love,

your shaky, cold hands lace with his deeply colored hair, fingers dancing between the locs as his breath hitches, getting closer on your face,

your eyes connect briefly, then your lips do too, longer- intertwined with a bond you knew exist from the very first second,

a bond that was so simple it couldn't be explained, so simple, it only took one look to determine it's existance

The nicotine on his lips melts with your cherry lip balm and own, bitter taste, pressing along the soft pillows of your love drunken lips, he thought about love for a moment,

Jungkook now knew that the books were always written about people like him

[darkmagic-s]

theodore nott's one star rating of dirty talking

Summary: Sexting through note passing, one of Theodore's favourite ways to bother you.

History of Magic is fun... only if you're studying it on your own. You're nice enough to pretend to be interested in whatever Professor Binns is saying, occasionally, because you would feel bad if he notices that you're falling asleep. Then again, Professor Binns doesn't exactly have a heart to feel sad about his students not finding his lesson interesting, does he? Nevertheless, you work hard to suppress the yawn that would threaten to come every five minutes. Scratch that, every minute, actually.

You look down at your notebook, eyeing it with disappointment. Every History of Magic class, your page would start with almost impressive notes and gradually, evidently, transition into lazy writings and short sentences. Sometimes not even a sentence.

The Salem Witch Trials were a series of hearings and prosecutions of people who were accused of being involved with witchcraft.

These trials occurred in Massachusetts, in the years 1692 and 1963, in which, as a result, twenty people who were accused of witchcraft being executed, and most of them being women.

Some of the women were indeed witches, though found to be entirely innocent of the crimes they were accused and executed for.

others are just no-majes

traumatic event

witches and wizards retreat to homelands

1920 second salemers

dada essay due tomorrow & practice non-verb spells

You pause in your reading, eyebrows furrowed. The Defence Against the Dark Arts essay...

That's something you'll worry about after lunch.

With a soft sigh, you lean your chin on your palm, your elbow resting on your table. How much longer until it's lunchtime?

Before you can even start to feel another yawn coming, a familiar hand from beside you slides over a torn page from a notebook, with a sentence written on it. Obviously it won't be a list of names of the Salem Witch Trials' victims, knowing your lover.

You turn your head, looking at Theodore Nott with a raised brow, before reaching out to slide the paper closer to you, your hand brushing against the back of his hand briefly. He doesn't even bother to fold the paper. He might as well read it out loud to the whole class.

"why the frown? :("

You can't help the half-smile that appears on your lips when you read the note. You write back a simple response.

"You."

Theodore practically snatches the note from you, undoubtedly excited that there's finally something exciting to do and you had to nudge him because of the noise the paper just made. He's not bothered, of course, already writing down his response.

"I will buy you sweets."

Your heart skips a beat, even at such a simple message. You glances at Theodore, who's watching your every move with that gentle gaze of his green eyes, a soft playful smile on his lips.

"Your hair looks fluffy. Would love to touch later."

You slide it over to him. You enjoy the reaction your message has on him, because he rolls his shoulders in what seems like a satisfied manner as his smile widens, before he starts to write. Clearly he thought of a good response.

"you will touch it later, and other places too"

His response comes with a drawing of a beating heart, which eventually increases and explodes, and the animation repeats. How cute, you think. With a shy smile, you write back, wanting to keep the conversation going despite how his message had left you a bit speechless.

"What do you think of the New Salem Philanthropic Society? Bold, don't you think?"

Somehow, your response causes him to snort, in which he disguises it with a fake cough. You quickly look at him with a mix of confusion and amusement.

"you're BAD at dirty talking"

This time, it's your turn to snort, causing the two people in front of you and Theodore to turn around, frowning. You want to scoff - you're pretty sure they're just annoyed because you and Theodore are interrupting their napping or daydreaming session.

Looking over at Theodore, you roll your eyes at him, before focusing on the note that is now in your hands. You wouldn't say that you're bad at dirty talking, more like... skilled in other categories of dirty talking, such as begging or... demanding. Perchance.

You write your reply with determination.

"I would need to be locked up in Azkaban for your safety."

When Theodore reads your reply, you saw his eyebrows raise - he's both surprised and impressed. He shakes his head with a breathy chuckle.

"ominous, but an improvement,"

There's another sentence below this one, and you almost choked on your own saliva.

"pull up your skirt for me a little bit"

You immediately crumple up the paper on impulse, holding it in your hand, and you swear Theodore's smirk becomes more evident. Is he serious? Writing this on a note passed in class is dangerous! But then again, someone is borderline snoring just a few tables away and Professor Binns isn't even sparing him a glance, no one is.

You smoothen the paper on your table and writes down your response, exhaling softly.

"This isn't dirty talking. You're just horny."

Theodore places down the paper on his table and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. When your eyes meet his, he simply shrugs and pointedly looks down at your skirt.

He's waiting.

You sigh and make sure your robes are out of the way of display of your skirt. With your hands nervously gripping onto the hem of your skirt, you look around the classroom. Some are doodling, and some are literally sleeping. No one would find out, really.

You pull up your skirt by just an inch.

Okay, two inches.

"That's it," Theodore whispers unexpectedly, causing your heart to skip a beat. What handful he is.

He slides over the paper to you, and you notice he didn't write a response. You send him a questioning look, and he gestures to his body with his hand.

Oh.

You slide the note over.

"Which one do you want?"

The note is slid back to you.

"which one do YOU want?"

You tilt your head, contemplating. The hardest decision you've ever had to make today, you think.

"You don't need to take anything off to arouse me."

You pause your writing. However...

"The tie?"

Theodore seems satisfied once he reads the note. He looks over at you and loosens his robes around his neck, revealing his vest and the white shirt underneath it. With a smirk, he loosens his tie at the top of his vest, just a little, not too obvious - for your eyes only.

You can't help but to take the paper from him despite how it's his turn to write the message. Considering how the two of you aren't exactly writing neatly on the paper which leads to taking up all the space, you had to use the other side to write your new message.

"I like your neck."

Theodore smiles fondly once he reads this, not a playful smirk this time, and you think he might even be blushing. When he glances at you, you notice how his pupils are dilated.

He slides the paper over to you, and squeezes your hand affectionately for a brief moment before pulling away.

"you will mark it?"

It's clear to you how he's subtly guiding you towards saying the right thing, lest you start delving into the whole Second Salemers' background in your reply, and you can't help but to want to impress him.

"I will write on it in runes which would translate to my name."

Theodore chuckles quietly.

"nerd"

A true romantic.

You write back - shamelessly.

"You want me so bad."

You see him pressing his palm to his face, as his shoulders shake in quiet, small laughter. Naturally, seeing him smiling so big widens yours too. He leans towards you and whispers in amusement, "You are bad at dirty talking."

"You will never find anyone as good as me," you reply in a whisper, leaning back in your seat, putting on a smug expression, despite the fond smile that threatens to break though.

As Theodore leans in to peck your cheek, you can't help but to briefly think that, if you were good in dirty talking, a whole notebook would've been used up for this period alone. You needed to have a flaw, after all.

[novaursa]

okk hear me out!

gwayne x daemon daughter // kink repro

We all remember the tournament in s1, just imagine viserys decide that his niece (who is younger than nyra maybe 16) should marry sir gwayne to make more strength between their houses.

time pass they fell in love in oldtown and they raided Daeron as their own. They all come back when Luke was name heir of drifmark (during the audience). Daemon is furious to see her with gwayne.

But their chamber is right next to daemon and nyra, and at night gwayne is way more than ready to make understand that she is his 😏🔥

In Defiance of the Dragon

- Summary: When your uncle, King Viserys, promised your hand to Gwayne, your father was least pleased about it.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

The air in the tournament grounds is drenched with the scent of crushed flowers and churned earth, the banners of noble houses fluttering like the wings of restless dragons. The sun casts a golden shine over the scene, making the polished armor of the knights gleam like fire. You stand at the edge of the royal pavilion, a place of honor, though it feels more like a cage at this moment. Your heart pounds in your chest as the king—your uncle, Viserys—raises his hand to command silence.

The crowd hushes, anticipation hanging in the air. You can feel the weight of a thousand eyes upon you, but none as heavy as the gaze of Ser Gwayne Hightower. His presence is unmistakable even among the throng of knights, his armor adorned with the sigil of his house, the beacon of the Hightower shining bright against the steel. Your breath catches as you meet his gaze, a fleeting moment that seems to stretch into eternity. There is something in his eyes—an unspoken promise, a plea for understanding.

Viserys’ voice booms across the grounds, his words carrying the weight of royal decree. "Today, before the tilts commence, let it be known that my beloved niece, the daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen, shall be wed to Ser Gwayne Hightower. This union shall strengthen the bond between our noble houses, binding the blood of Old Valyria to the steadfast walls of Oldtown."

A murmur ripples through the crowd. Otto Hightower, standing beside the king, allows himself a thin, satisfied smile. The whisper of steel, the low hum of murmurs, and the occasional startled cry from the gathered lords and ladies mingle with the pounding in your ears. Beside you, Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent Hightower exchange a glance, though their expressions reveal little. You know Rhaenyra's thoughts well enough; her small hand squeezes yours briefly, a silent assurance.

Your eyes dart to the stands where your father, Prince Daemon, lounges. His posture is deceptively relaxed, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drum against the arm of his seat. His eyes—those unmistakable violet eyes—burn with an intensity that sets your nerves on edge. When he rises from his seat, you feel a tremor of fear run through you, though you fight to keep your face composed.

Daemon’s voice, sharp and cutting, pierces the air. "I would face Ser Gwayne in the first tilt. Let us see if this union has the favor of the gods."

The crowd roars in approval, eager for the bloodshed and spectacle that is sure to follow. Gwayne’s gaze shifts, now locked onto Daemon’s. You see the flicker of concern in his eyes, quickly masked by the steel of resolve. He inclines his head, accepting the challenge with a courtly grace that belies the danger he now faces.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The fear gnaws at you, a beast with claws that rake against your insides. You force yourself to remain still, even as every instinct screams at you to intervene, to do something—anything—to protect Gwayne from your father’s wrath.

Alicent notices your distress, her voice a gentle whisper in your ear. "Do not fear, my lady. Ser Gwayne is a skilled knight. He will honor you in this contest."

Her words are meant to comfort, but they do little to soothe the storm raging within you. Your eyes dart between the two men who now occupy your every thought—the father who has always shielded you with his fierce love, and the knight who has stolen your heart with his quiet strength. What would your father say if he knew how often Gwayne had filled your thoughts, how often you had dreamed of a future together, away from the politics and dangers of the court?

As the knights prepare for the tilt, you can barely breathe. The cheers of the crowd fade into a dull roar in your ears, and all you can focus on is the two figures facing each other across the field. Daemon’s black armor, dark as night and adorned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, stands in stark contrast to Gwayne’s silvered plate. The dragon against the tower—a battle that feels all too symbolic.

Rhaenyra leans in close, her voice urgent and low. "You know your father, sister. He won’t hold back. You must steel yourself."

"I know," you whisper, though your voice trembles with the effort of holding back the fear that threatens to overwhelm you. You cannot let anyone see how deeply this affects you—not Rhaenyra, not Alicent, and certainly not your father.

The trumpets blare, signaling the beginning of the tilt. The horses rear, their hooves pounding the earth as Daemon and Gwayne charge at each other. Time slows to a crawl, and you can only watch, helpless, as the gap between them closes.

The impact is thunderous, the sound of steel against steel ringing out across the field. The force of the blow unseats Gwayne, and he crashes to the ground in a heap of armor and dust. Your heart lurches in your chest, and you rise to your feet, barely aware of the gasps and cries around you.

"Gwayne!" you hear yourself cry out, the name escaping your lips before you can stop it.

The crowd is on its feet, roaring with excitement, but all you can see is Gwayne, motionless on the ground. The world blurs as tears well in your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to show any weakness.

Daemon circles back, his expression inscrutable behind his helm, but you can feel his eyes on you. This was no accident; he wanted to make a point, to remind everyone that no one—Hightower or otherwise—would take what belonged to a dragon without consequence.

But then, Gwayne stirs. He rises slowly, his movements pained but determined. Relief floods through you, but it is quickly replaced by a renewed sense of dread. Daemon is not done—not yet.

Before you can react, Gwayne is back on his feet, his eyes locked onto Daemon's. The defiance in his stance is clear—he will not yield, not even to a prince of the blood. You feel a swell of pride for him, despite the fear gnawing at your insides.

Daemon, sensing the mood of the crowd shifting, raises his lance once more, ready for another pass. But this time, something in Gwayne’s demeanor gives you hope. His gaze flickers to you for the briefest of moments, and you see the silent vow in his eyes—a promise to fight for you, no matter the odds.

The horses charge again, and this time, Gwayne meets Daemon’s strike with a fierce determination. The impact is brutal, but Gwayne holds his ground, refusing to be unseated. The crowd roars its approval, the tension in the air is felt.

When the dust settles, both knights remain in their saddles, battered but unbroken. It is Daemon who finally raises his hand, signaling the end of the tilt. There is no victor, no vanquished—only two men who have tested each other’s mettle and found themselves equally matched.

The relief that washes over you is overwhelming, and you sink back into your seat, your hands trembling in your lap. You dare a glance at Gwayne, who inclines his head to you with a slight, weary smile. It is a small gesture, but it fills your heart with warmth.

As Daemon dismounts, he casts a long, lingering look in your direction. There is something unspoken in his gaze, a challenge, perhaps—or a warning. But for now, you do not care. You have seen Gwayne survive your father’s wrath, and that is enough for you.

For the first time since this day began, you allow yourself a small, secret smile. The road ahead may be fraught with danger and intrigue, but you will face it with the courage of a dragon—and with Gwayne by your side.

You stand at the window of the Hightower, looking out over the sprawling city of Oldtown, where the cobbled streets wind like serpents beneath the autumn sun. The air is cool, tinged with the salt of the Whispering Sound, carrying with it the scent of the sea that you’ve come to know so well. The bells from the Starry Sept toll the hour, their sound reverberating through the stone walls of your home.

Your home. It’s a thought that still brings a small smile to your lips, even after all these years. The Hightower is vast, imposing, and ancient, its walls steeped in the history of Oldtown and the Hightowers themselves. Yet within these walls, you have found something unexpected—peace, and more than that, love.

Gwayne is beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back, a comforting weight. His touch is gentle, yet there’s a strength in it that you’ve come to depend on. He’s watching you with that soft expression that always melts the last of your worries away, the lines of his face relaxed, his grey eyes bright with the warmth of the afternoon light.

“He’s arrived,” Gwayne says, his voice low and calm, a grounding presence. You turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, the unspoken question in your eyes.

“Prince Daeron,” he clarifies, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Alicent’s letter arrived this morning, and they’ll be here within the hour.”

You nod, the familiar flutter of anticipation and duty stirring in your chest. Prince Daeron, the youngest son of Queen Alicent, sent to Oldtown to be raised and educated under the care of your husband’s family. It’s a great honor, of course, but more than that, it feels like a trust, a bond that ties your houses closer together.

Gwayne’s hand moves from your back to your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “He’s young, but from what we’ve heard, he’s bright and eager to learn. He’ll thrive here, I’m sure of it.”

You smile at his optimism, leaning into him slightly. “We’ll make sure of it,” you reply, your voice carrying the quiet determination that has grown within you over the years. Oldtown has become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you and Gwayne have built a life together, despite the stormy beginnings of your union.

You can still remember the day of the tourney, the way your heart had pounded with fear as your father had chosen Gwayne as his opponent. The memory lingers like a shadow, but it’s one you’ve learned to live with, just as you’ve learned to live with the man who became your husband.

Gwayne, sensing the shift in your mood, squeezes your hand gently. “He’ll have the best tutors, the finest training. And he’ll have us.”

“Yes,” you agree, turning your gaze back to the city below. “He’ll have us.”

The grand hall of the Hightower is filled with the warmth of a roaring fire, the stone hearth dominating the room. The thick tapestries that line the walls soften the sound of footsteps on the stone floor, and the smell of spiced wine and roasted meat fills the air.

Daeron is smaller than you expected, a boy of perhaps seven years, with a mop of silver hair that falls into his eyes. Those eyes, so much like his mother’s, are wide with curiosity and just a hint of nervousness as he stands before you and Gwayne.

“Welcome to Oldtown, Prince Daeron,” Gwayne says, his voice kind but formal, as befits the occasion. He kneels slightly, bringing himself closer to the boy’s level, a gesture of respect and warmth that seems to put Daeron at ease.

The boy glances up at you, his lips parting in a small, shy smile. “Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” he replies, his voice small but clear. Then, turning to you, he adds, “My lady.”

You kneel beside Gwayne, reaching out to take Daeron’s hand in yours. His fingers are cold, and you can feel the slight tremor in them. “You’ll be safe here, Prince Daeron,” you assure him softly. “This is your home now.”

Daeron looks up at you, his young face a mix of emotions—fear, uncertainty, but also trust. It’s a look that tugs at your heart, and you find yourself wanting to protect this boy, to give him the guidance and care that only family can provide.

“We’ll take good care of you,” you promise, your voice gentle but firm. “Just as we would our own.”

The boy nods, and you can see the tension in his small shoulders begin to ease. He looks around the hall, taking in the grandeur of the Hightower, the vastness of the space that is now his home. There’s still fear in his eyes, but there’s also a glimmer of something else—hope.

Gwayne rises to his feet, offering his hand to you. “Come,” he says to Daeron, “let’s show you the rest of the Hightower. There’s much to see, and I believe the maester has prepared something special for your arrival.”

Daeron hesitates for just a moment before he takes Gwayne’s offered hand, his small fingers gripping tightly as though seeking reassurance. You stand beside them, a silent guardian of this new bond that is being forged.

As you walk through the halls, Gwayne points out various tapestries, statues, and paintings, telling stories of the history of the Hightowers and Oldtown. Daeron listens intently, his earlier nervousness slowly melting away under the gentle guidance of your husband.

When you reach the maester’s chambers, you’re greeted by the sight of a table laden with books, scrolls, and an array of strange instruments that immediately capture Daeron’s interest. The maester, a kindly old man with a beard as white as snow, greets Daeron with a deep bow.

“Prince Daeron,” the maester says warmly, “I’ve prepared a special lesson for you, one that I think you’ll find quite interesting.”

Daeron’s eyes light up with curiosity, and for the first time since his arrival, you see a genuine smile on his face. He looks up at you and Gwayne, his eyes shining with excitement. “Thank you,” he says, his voice more confident now.

Gwayne squeezes your hand, and you can’t help but return the smile. This, you realize, is what it means to be a family—not just by blood, but by the bonds you choose to create. In this moment, with the warmth of the fire and the promise of a new beginning, you feel something settle in your heart, a sense of fulfillment that you hadn’t known you were missing.

As Daeron sits down with the maester, already engrossed in the lesson that has been prepared for him, you and Gwayne share a look, a silent understanding passing between you.

And in this moment, as you both watch Daeron eagerly absorb the knowledge being offered to him, you know that you wouldn’t have your life being lived in any other way.

The halls of the Red Keep are as imposing as ever as you and Gwayne make your way through the corridors. It's been years since you last walked these halls, and yet they feel as familiar as ever—haunted by memories both bitter and sweet.

Gwayne’s hand rests on your elbow, guiding you through the maze of the castle with practiced ease. He’s dressed in the colors of his house, the green and silver of the Hightowers, his expression calm and composed as always. But you know him well enough to sense the tension beneath the surface, the way his gaze sharpens when he hears a distant sound, always vigilant, always protective.

You both turn a corner and nearly collide with a small entourage, led by none other than Rhaenyra herself. She’s flanked by her husband—your father, Daemon—and their children, their steps purposeful, their expressions tense. Rhaenyra’s silver hair gleams under the flickering torchlight, her violet eyes widening slightly in surprise as she sees you.

“Rhaenyra,” you greet her, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the uncertainty you feel. So much has changed, yet seeing her here, a part of you yearns for the easy camaraderie you once shared as children. 

“Cousin,” Rhaenyra replies, her voice warm despite the strain visible on her face. She glances at Gwayne and then back at you, her gaze searching, perhaps for some sign of how the years have treated you. “It’s been too long.”

“Far too long,” you agree, your eyes flicking to Daemon, who stands slightly behind Rhaenyra, his gaze locked on Gwayne. There’s a tension in his stance, a stiffness that wasn’t there before, and you know immediately that your father is displeased.

Daemon’s eyes are dark, and though he remains silent, the disapproval is clear. His gaze travels from Gwayne to you, then back again, lingering on the clasped hands between you and your husband. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and for a moment, the air seems to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved history.

“You’re back in the capital for the petitions, I presume?” Rhaenyra asks, breaking the silence, her tone carefully neutral. The mention of the petitions brings you back to the grim reality of why you’re all here—the matter of Driftmark, and the question of succession that has thrown the court into turmoil.

“Yes,” Gwayne answers before you can, his voice firm. “We came as soon as we heard.” He glances at Daemon, his expression respectful but guarded. “It seems the crown’s decision is in favor of your son.”

Rhaenyra’s face softens at the mention of Lucerys, but before she can respond, a voice from behind her interrupts. It’s Jacaerys, his young face set in determination. “The matter should have never been in question. Luke is the rightful heir to Driftmark.”

You see the fire in his eyes, the same fire that once burned in Rhaenyra at that age. It’s both heartening and concerning, especially now, in these treacherous waters.

“That he is,” you say gently, offering a smile to Jacaerys. “And it’s clear to anyone with eyes that he’ll make a fine lord.”

Before Jacaerys can respond, Daemon steps forward, his presence commanding attention. His eyes are locked onto yours now, and there’s a storm brewing behind them, a mix of emotions you can’t fully decipher. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, carrying the weight of a warning.

“You’ve found happiness in Oldtown, I see.” The words are directed at you, but his gaze shifts to Gwayne as he says it, his tone laced with something darker. “Though I wonder if the cost was worth it.”

You feel Gwayne’s hand tighten around yours, a subtle gesture of support. “Happiness is not something to be questioned, Father,” you reply calmly, meeting Daemon’s gaze without flinching. “Nor is the loyalty I hold to both my families.”

Daemon’s lips twitch, almost as if he’s about to say something more, but Rhaenyra places a gentle hand on his arm, silently urging him to hold his tongue. There’s a brief moment where it seems he might ignore her, but then he lets out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“We’re here to support our family,” Gwayne adds, his voice measured, addressing Daemon directly now. “In whatever way is needed.”

Daemon studies Gwayne for a long moment, the silence between them stretching thin. Finally, he gives a curt nod, though the hardness in his gaze doesn’t entirely soften. “As you should,” he says, the words clipped, before turning back to Rhaenyra.

“Come, we have business with the king,” he says to her, his voice brooking no argument.

Rhaenyra hesitates, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “We’ll speak later,” she promises, offering a small, genuine smile before following after Daemon, their children trailing behind her.

As they walk away, the tension slowly dissipates, leaving you standing beside Gwayne in the dimly lit corridor. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, leaning slightly into your husband’s side. Gwayne wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his warmth a comfort against the chill that lingers in the air.

“That went… better than I expected,” Gwayne murmurs, a touch of wry humor in his voice, though you can hear the relief beneath it.

“He’s never going to fully approve,” you say quietly, your eyes fixed on the spot where your father had stood. “But he’ll have to accept it.”

Gwayne turns to you, his expression softening as he looks down into your eyes. “I don’t need his approval,” he says, his voice firm. “I have you, and that’s all that matters.”

You smile at that, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes, banishing the last of the unease. “And I have you,” you reply, your voice filled with the love and certainty that have grown between you over the years.

The heavy oak door of your chambers shuts behind you, a soft thud echoing through the room. The warmth of the fire flickers across the stone walls that dance in tandem with your heightened pulse. Gwayne stands before you, his emerald eyes sharp and intense, still simmering with the tension of your earlier encounter in the halls. He says nothing as he approaches, but the way his hand reaches for your waist and pulls you flush against him speaks volumes.

You’ve grown accustomed to the feel of him—the strength in his embrace, the heat of his breath against your skin—but tonight there is something different, something more urgent. The lingering traces of your father’s displeasure hang between you, and you know, without words, that it fuels Gwayne’s every movement.

His lips descend upon yours, fierce and claiming, tasting of the wine shared at the evening’s feast. You respond in kind, your hands weaving through the thick strands of his hair, pulling him closer, as though you could erase the earlier tension through sheer proximity.

His hands roam across your body with practiced familiarity, fingers curling around the ties of your gown, loosening the laces with deliberate slowness. Gwayne leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice low and rough. “I will make you scream for me tonight,” he promises, and the unspoken words hang heavy in the air—Let him hear.

Your heart flutters in response, not with fear, but with anticipation. The thought of your father just beyond the walls, likely brooding over his anger, stirs something within you. How often had Daemon whispered venom into your ear about the Hightowers, about how they were a poison slowly strangling your family? And yet here you are, wrapped in the arms of one who bears that very name, bound to him not only by vows but by something far deeper, something that even your father’s fury cannot tarnish.

Gwayne’s touch turns rougher, more insistent, and your breath catches in your throat as he lifts you with ease, laying you down onto the bed. The covers crumple beneath your weight, the mattress giving way as he settles over you, his eyes burning with a hunger that matches your own. “I want him to know,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trailing fire down your throat, “that you belong to me.”

Your back arches involuntarily, and you bite down on your lip, the need to hold back your cries warring with the knowledge of who might hear. Gwayne’s hands grasp your hips, his grip possessive as he moves against you with a rhythm that leaves you breathless. Each movement, each deliberate thrust, is a challenge—a challenge to the walls that separate your chambers from those of your father and his wife.

The pressure builds inside you, the familiar heat coiling in your belly, and you grasp at Gwayne’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you fight against the wave of pleasure threatening to drown you. His mouth hovers over yours, demanding, coaxing you to give in, to let go.

And then you remember—Daemon’s chambers are just beyond. The thought of his reaction, of his barely concealed rage at the idea of you finding joy with a Hightower, sends a thrill through you. You gasp aloud as Gwayne drives into you harder, his breath ragged in your ear, “Louder,” he commands, his voice a mix of authority and need.

You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, letting the sound of his name tear from your lips, louder than before, louder than you ever have. You imagine the look on your father’s face, his fists clenched in helpless fury, and the thought sends you spiraling into a pleasure so intense it nearly blinds you.

Gwayne’s name tumbles from your lips again and again, each cry more fervent than the last, as he brings you to the edge and beyond. You feel his satisfaction in the way he groans your name in return, his hold on you unyielding, as though he could anchor himself to you through sheer force of will.

When it’s over, when the last echoes of your cries have faded into the night, you lay beside him, your body spent and trembling, but your mind still racing. Gwayne’s hand rests possessively on your hip, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of exertion. “He heard you,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

You can only nod, the thought of what tomorrow might bring swirling in your mind. But for now, there is only this—only you and Gwayne, and the knowledge that whatever storm your father’s ire might bring, you would weather it together.

In the silence that follows, you curl closer to Gwayne, your fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest. “Tomorrow…” you begin, but your voice trails off.

“Tomorrow,” Gwayne echoes, his tone firm, reassuring, “we will face whatever comes. But tonight, you are mine, and that is all that matters.”

You smile softly at his words, closing your eyes as sleep finally begins to claim you.

[barcaatthemoon]

Could you do one for Lia with this prompt please.

“I could have anyone I want yet… Yet you fucking exist.” 

reputation || lia walti x reader ||

it was easier to be a player than let yourself fall in love again. that was what you had been telling yourself for years, and for a while, it had worked. you went from club to club on loans and transfers. at each club, you had several flings, to the point of earning yourself a startling reputation.

everybody always knew who you were before you got to any new clubs. there was a good chance that no matter where you went, you had an ex or a friend of an ex on the team. it was pure luck that you managed to find a team willing to overlook the things that people said about you. especially one as big as arsenal.

it was your first long-term contract in over seven years. each season brought on a new club, occasionally two. arsenal was very clear about keeping you on their team. you were a talented player, and they wouldn't let rumors ruin the absurd amount of money they had paid for you. it was more than what you had made anywhere else, all for the promise that you'd behave yourself.

"is it true?" katie mccabe asked as she dropped down into the seat next to you at lunch. the two of you knew each other from briefly playing with each other in scotland. you liked her, especially the way that she played things aggressively. it was hell when you were opposite to each other, but you respected it anyway. "did you really, um, get around like that in perth?"

"come on mccabe, aren't you above the rumor mill?" katie shied away a bit, but not completely. you knew that she easily could have asked around. a lot of the girls you had slept with in australia knew caitlin and steph. there had been a brief thing with caitlin whenever the two of you had been on the same team before she came to arsenal.

"come on, nobody else is saying anything. this just isn't what i expected when you joined." katie tried not to let her disappointment show through, but it did.

"well, maybe she's changed," lia piped in. you hadn't even noticed her approach the two of you. she was always around whenever one of the girls tried to probe you about your past relations and interactions with other players. it was obvious with a few girls who you had slept with, especially in the wsl.

"lia, i'm not saying (y/n) isn't different now. i just want to know if she really got around as much as they say," katie said. at this, lia slapped the irishwoman on the back of her head. you stifled a laugh as katie finally left the two of you alone.

"they aren't this bad with other people, i swear," lia promised you. you knew that, most people weren't. you seemed to bring it out in most people, but lia had never asked you about your past. that was one of the reasons that you had fallen for her, even though you swore that you would never fall in love again.

"it's fine. you get used to it after a while. i think that you're different though, which is nice. thank you for that," you told her. lia blushed as she grabbed onto your hand. outside of work, the two of you had been spending a lot of time together. lia lived pretty close to your apartment, so you had a good excuse to always hang out. lately, things had been shifting a bit from friendly to romantic. it wasn't much, just small gestures, but it was enough for you.

"sometimes i do wonder why you haven't found a girl yet. i mean, you could have anybody you wanted if you tried," lia said. she had heard several of the girls talk about hooking up with you. not to mention the night she spent comforting leah whenever you rejected your captain's offer for dinner and drinks.

"i could have anyone i want, yet..." you trailed off as you pulled lia in close enough to whisper, "yet you fucking exist. i don't want to even think about anybody other than you. it's put a damper on my reputation, i think mccabe was disappointed."

"let her be, i like it when you're not just acting how everybody else wants you to. screw your reputation," lia said. she pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. there was a smile when she pulled back, but that was nothing compared to the look in her eyes. it should have made you want to run away, but you couldn't run from lia.

[princessbrunette]

walking in on gooner step bro rage jerking himself off with your panties

˖⁺‧₊🍥𝜗𝜚

you weren’t aware that rafe was even home, which is why you shocked to walk into your bedroom to find the back of your step brother, stood with his feet apart at your dresser.

you freeze, eyes wide and doe like as your lips part, coming to grips with what you were actually seeing. small groans and huffs of exertion leave him, as his arm flexes with each quick pump of his fist around his cock. he was jerking off, it was clear as day — but the next question that lingered your mind was why in your bedroom? it was only then you notice the fabric laid open on top of the dresser at his crotch-height — a pair of used panties that had been snatched from the basin.

you suddenly stumble forward like you can’t control yourself, marching over to his side in humiliation at the fact he was even seeing your lightly used underwear, splayed open in daylight. there’s a moment where he simply turns his head, lips still parted in concentration and continues to pump.

“rafe… wh — what are you doing?” you stress, and he only licks his lips. you go to snatch the panties away from him, but as you lean forward to do so he grabs you — overpowering you easily to slam you down onto the dresser in a bent over position. “rafe!” you squeal, your breath hitching in your throat as you fight him for a moment.

with his free hand, he yanks your arm behind your lower back, keeping you still. briefly, he unhands his cock to yank up your skirt. “you’re right, what am i doing huh? using these panties when i got a live subject right infront’a me. spread ‘em baby i gotta big fuckin’ load comin’.” he drawls, nasally and perverted as he kicks your legs open — aiming his tip at the growing wet patch of your panties, occasionally brushing his tip against where your hole would be.

you whine, knees buckling — barely even caring that the bedroom door was still wide open, a straight shot into the room from the hallway to any on lookers. as he groans, coming up on his orgasm — you ooze into your panties, soon feeling him bust hot ropes onto the fabric, seeping through to caress your puffy, sticky folds as he holds you down. “fuckfuckfuck—fucking shit—” he grunts, the tight grip around your comparably frail wrist burning your skin making you wince tearfully — letting your step-brother empty himself on your covered pussy and bare ass cheeks.

he eventually stills, catching his breath. “god damn.” he pants before admiring his work, loosening his grip on your wrist to slap the side of your ass that he left unpainted before pulling your skirt back down, sure to stain the inside material. he lets you go, and you stand up shakily to watch him stuff himself back into his pants, eyeing you over. “good shit baby. gonna keep our little secret right?” he licks his lips, zipping up his zipper with a little shuffle of his feet. you’re without words, so you simply nod.

at your compliance, he drops you a kiss on the forehead before swaggering off to the door. “s’what i like to hear.”

˖⁺‧₊🍥𝜗𝜚

[seriouslysnape]

Morning Shift

Dad! Severus Snape x Mom! Fem! Reader x Baby Tags: Fluff. Sev being a good dad. Reader getting rest she deserves <3. Baby being a cutie. Word Count: 2.0k "I didn't mean to oversleep."

☾☾☾☾

☾☾☾☾

It was quite rare for you to have the chance to sleep in.

Even before the baby was born, you were pretty much up and going by dawn every day. It made you feel more productive to get up early and get the day started before the sun even had the chance to fully rise.

An occasional Saturday or Sunday would roll around where neither you nor Severus were in any rush to get up and moving. Those were during the slower weeks of the year, usually during the summer when Severus wasn't teaching and your work wasn't as demanding.

But after the baby was born, those occasional lazy weekend days had become pretty much obsolete. The mornings and nights had become less hectic as your newborn transitioned into an infant, and she was on somewhat of a sleeping schedule. However, when the baby was up, so were you.

Severus gave his fair share of helping out with the baby at all times of the day, but typically, Severus tended to her the most in the evenings. Severus usually fed her dinner, bathed her, and prepared her for her early bedtime.

It wasn't intentional really, but the two of you fell into a routine where you handled the mornings, the two of you rotated off during the day, and Severus handled the evenings/nights. Severus would help anytime when needed, but for the most part, that was the best arrangement.

On one particular weekend morning, however, the routine was different.

Severus awoke to a quiet house. There wasn't the sound of his wife stirring in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for him and the baby who would no doubt be babbling for her breakfast.

He felt a presence in the bed next to him, a gentle warmth coming from it as well. He was surprised to see you were still asleep, bundled up in the covers as comfortable as could be.

The warm glow of the newly risen sun beamed through the windows of the bedroom, spilling over your back that was facing the glass. He watched you only for a moment, pushing some stray hairs from your eyes and pulling the covers higher on you to keep you toasty.

It made his heart swell to see you getting some extra rest on your day off, and he made it his mission to let you sleep as long as possible. He was more than happy to be on baby duty that morning and a change of routine was a bit exciting.

The clock on his bedside table read 7:12 a.m. which did alarm him briefly. It was twelve minutes past the baby's usual wake up time, which meant either she was getting some extra sleep as well, or she was storming mad that no one had come to pick her up to begin her day.

Severus was quiet as he crept out of bed, his footfalls quiet as he exited your bedroom to enter the baby's room just next door. Severus always left the baby's nursery door slightly cracked in the event the baby needed something during the night or woke up earlier than usual.

He pushed the door open gently, a burst of sunlight painting the hallway. The room was perfectly warm for a January morning, a vast difference from the bitter cold on the outside.

He glanced at the crib, seeing some movement in the crib. She was squirming excitedly, happy that someone was finally coming to get her up for the day.

She was awake, but not agitated in the slightest that no one had come to get her yet. She was content to lie in her crib for a little while, the charmed mobile above her crib keeping her entertained. She couldn't have been awake for very long, considering it was only a few minutes after her usual wake up time.

Severus approached her crib with a gentleness that few knew he possessed. His dark eyes, so often narrowed with sternness, softened when they gazed upon his child.

"Good morning, darling." He smiled, reaching down to pick up the cooing baby.

His daughter smiled back at him with a sleepy grin and sluggish eyes, but held an expression of confusion as to why her mother wasn't there to wake her like usual.

"Not expecting me this morning, hm?" He asked, which only returned a yawn from his daughter. "We'll let Mum sleep in this morning. She deserves it."

The eight-month-old only babbled in response, mouthing at Severus' shoulder through his T-shirt. You and Severus were pretty sure she had some teeth coming in based on the fact that she wanted to chew on everything.

Usually you dressed the baby as the first step of her morning routine, but it was the weekend so she would more than likely be home for the majority of the day. Severus opted to leave her in her pajamas for now, which she had no protests with.

She was rather clingy today, her tiny hands grabbing for him to pick her up again once she was dressed. She knew that if anyone in the world would pick her up whenever she wished, I was Severus.

Severus struggled with leaving her when she wanted to be picked up. You had been telling Severus for the last month or so that it is indeed okay to let her sit on her own as long as she's being supervised. She was beginning to work towards crawling, and you knew the only way she was ever going to learn to crawl was if she had the chance to be on the ground.

But Severus couldn't resist his daughter's grabby hands and beaming eyes. He spoiled the little girl, and he just couldn't tell her no.

He whisked her down the stairs, smiling at her giggles when he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Severus knew it was time for breakfast, and he knew that she was going to get fussy if he didn't get her fed soon. He slipped her into her highchair, her legs wiggling as she squirmed with anticipation.

"What would you like for breakfast, princess?" He asked, only receiving an interested stare in response. "I know you like eggs...and I think Mum picked up some fruit yesterday."

Severus turned and surveyed the inside of the fridge, studying its contents to make a decision. She was getting impatient, whining and babbling for Severus to hurry up. She was on a specific schedule, and her late wake up time had her about fifteen minutes behind.

Severus went with his suggestion on the premise that eggs and fruit were a safe option. She wasn't terribly picky, but since this wasn't her usual routine, he figured giving her something that he knew she liked was best.

Severus selected a few eggs from the fridge, deciding to cook them all and divide the portion appropriately between himself, you, and the baby. He knew it wouldn't be long before you were up, so he got started on getting a pot of coffee brewed as well.

With a wave of his wand, the stove ignited and began cooking the eggs in a pan while he worked on getting some fruit mashed up for her.

"Strawberries or a banana?" He asked her, who was more interested in dancing in her chair than picking which fruit she wanted.

Severus was certain that she hadn't eaten strawberries before. He took a chance and went with the strawberries, retrieving a few and getting them smushed enough to be suitable for baby consumption. He plated the eggs once they were cooked,

He pulled up a chair to her highchair, holding the tiny baby spoon and bowl in his hand to begin feeding her baby spoonfuls of her breakfast.

She made a noise of approval with the strawberries, barely even swallowing before motioning for more. For an eight-month-old, she was a fantastic eater and would try nearly anything.

Your daughter giggled, her eyes sparkling with the sight of her dad in front of her. Severus couldn't help but feel a tug at his heartstrings. This was a side of him that no one else got to see, a side reserved only for his precious little one.

He felt so incredibly lucky to have a child. He felt even more blessed to raise her and love her in the ways he never was. He wasn't a perfect father by any means, but he made it his personal mission to never give her a reason to think of him as a bad father.

When her noises slowed and she hesitated to take any more bites of food, Severus stopped feeding her and began cleaning up. Slowly but surely, she was fed to satisfaction -- and Severus managed to fill himself up by getting bites in between feeding her.

Her face and shirt was painted with stains of sticky red from the strawberries, but she was happy as a clam and not at all concerned about the fact that she would most certainly need a bath.

Severus stood at the sink, letting her entertain herself while he arranged the dishes to be washed. When she gave a particularly joyous squeal, he knew that she had spotted something that she liked.

You were up now, standing in the doorway of the kitchen just freshly awake.

"Good morning, you two." You spoke gently, still clad in your sleepwear from the night before.

Severus turned, grinning at you with a small pink tint in his cheeks.

"Good morning, darling. We've just had breakfast." He smiled at you, his wife who he adored so dearly.

"I see that. You should've woke me up," You said. "I didn't mean to oversleep."

"Nonsense, darling. You needed the rest, and I am perfectly capable of taking on breakfast," He said. "I...assumed eggs and fruit were a safe choice."

"Oh, yeah. That's perfect," You approached the highchair, using your fingers to swipe some of her bed head hair to the side. "Looks like the strawberries were a hit." You laughed, noting the stains of red on her pink pajama shirt.

"Yes...sorry about that, my love." He blushed.

"I needed to do laundry today anyways," You smiled, not irritated in the slightest. "She'll be grown out of it soon."

A slight pang in Severus' chest made him go quiet for a moment. She was growing so fast that he couldn't even believe it. In four short months, she was going to be a year old. To think that it had been almost a year since she was born completely blew his mind. Next thing he knew, she would be starting her first day at Hogwarts and getting sorted into her House.

For now, he was enjoying her infant stage of life. Just as he had cherished the newborn phase, and how he would the toddler stage and beyond.

"I say it's time for a bath." You lifted her from her highchair, laughing again at how sticky she was.

"I can handle it," Severus said, turning the sink faucet off. "Might as well finish her morning routine."

"Are you sure?" You asked, feeling a bit guilty that he was taking on your usual morning duties.

"Absolutely," He grinned, taking her from you and turning his attention to her. "Mum will read you your bedtime story and put you to bed tonight. Does that work?"

She only hummed, clearly content with the arrangement they had going on today.

"Thank you, Sev." You said, thanking him for being so attentive and letting you sleep in for a bit.

"Oh, darling, it was nothing," He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Why don't you have breakfast and coffee while I get her ready for the day?"

Sure enough, Severus had a plate and a cup of coffee ready to go for you, a charm casted to keep the coffee hot and the food warm.

"The day where we have nothing planned?" You grinned, and Severus chuckled.

"Exactly."

And to Severus, a Saturday with nothing to do was perfect. In a lot of ways, nothing was everything when you and the baby were around.

His family (albeit small) was everything he ever needed.

[jolalibrary]

Just read your Soft!Frankie. How do you think Joel would be? I love your work. Thanks.

omg anon, okay, so I did quickly converse with my pal, @swiftispunk to clarify my thoughts. but here goes (hope this is okay)—for this you’re ill/have a cold.

soft!joel miller x reader (pre-outbreak)

the house is quiet. the sound of the pipes coming to life groaning in the walls is the first thing which stirs you.

your head is still full, heavy, as your eyes flutter open. then, you’re aware of how your throat still burns, worse than yesterday. more or less like you’d swallowed glass.

the rest follows suit, the sniff returning, the ache in your cheeks. the cold not improving but rather worsening overnight. it proves your point when you move, dizziness adding itself to your list of ailments—blurring your vision, making you even more thankful for declining the overtime, happy to be home and not behind a desk.

you reach out, greeted by cool sheets as the fan on the dresser groans as it performs another rotation.

and you don’t want to rise, but you also do. you want to see him, curl into him. but, you take your time in rising, all slow in your movements, using the bathroom and dressing in nothing but him when you’re done. you hope he won’t mind, maybe even like it as you pull on some of his sweats, grabbing a pair of his work-boot socks before heading downstairs.

he only murmurs your name softly at the sight of you—likely spotting your glassy eyes, and puffy cheeks from the cold making a home in you. you look at him, watching his lips tug up into one cheek when he spots the clothing, brows furrowing before they flatten, and you step closer, palm flat to his cheek as you wipe the crumbs.

and it’s soft, tender. him kissing your wrist before he mumbles about making you a drink. something warm. even adding honey—sarah’s orders before tommy took her to soccer practice. and you smile, hovering, shifting from side to side before he motions for you to get comfy under a blanket, keep warm, grunting: y’shouldn’t even be up.

your feet shuffle into the next room, seating yourself in your usual spot, tugging the blanket up and over—glancing at the coffee table, the magazine you’d grabbed Sarah and the array of coins from Joel emptying his pocket last night, all upon letters and papers—a mess, but a welcomed one. it’s home, a place you’d trade everything to be in.

when he joins you he’s clutching a mug, steam swirling up from it as he briefly places it down, a thud in the quiet before he settles down next to you. you watch as he wipes his hand on his jeans, before he places the back of his hand to your forehead. eyes narrowed, knitted in concern—

“still burnin’ up.”

you know. the sweat peppering your spine tells you as much, but you just lean into him. resting your head, finding no protest, only him moving to get more comfortable as he picks up and rests the mug on his knee—occasionally handing it to you, telling you to take a sip f’me.

and you do.

because it’s simple, easy. both the act and this thing with him. a thing he wasn’t sure he could give you if you remember correctly, yet he does it without trying.

“don’t fall asleep on me.”

he says it, even knowing you will. your head nodding, a sniff punctuating it, and the deep sigh you hear echo through him tells you he knows you’re minutes from doing so—and you’re sure he doesn’t care. most likely even likes it.

your eyes growing heavy, the television sounds slowly lowering in volume as your illness tries to beckon you to sleep. your legs come up, curling more so into him and the couch. feeling his arm move, just ever so slightly come around you, the mug going, finding a home on the table.

it’s only in the place between sleep and awake do you feel it, the slight touch of his fingers on yours. brushing over the tips, calloused palm flattening over your fingertips, trying to remove the chill from them.

and you smile, ever so slightly—and then you sniff before you briefly catch the scent of him. the last thing you needed to be lulled back to sleep.

[partycatty]

Hello :) please could I request love at first sight headcanons for Kenshi, Syzoth, Johnny and Liu Kang 💙💙

ofcccc love

kenshi, syzoth, johnny, liu kang > love at first sight

uh oh, the boys are smitten ;))

notes: you're a monk/trainer/idfk at the wu shi academy, so that's where they meet you for the first time! also pretend syzoth didnt have a wife and kids up until like 30 minutes before u guys meet LMFAOMFOMAF

masterlist <3

♡

kenshi >

kenshi kept mostly to himself, given his motivations for fighting in the tournament in the first place. of course, he'd get into the occasional spitting match with the actor that held his sword hostage as well. but something about you made his work feel unimportant.

he wouldn't make himself known to you for quite some time, but he caught your eye during the introductions when he arrived at the academy. you stood beside liu kang as his second in command, posture perfect and eyes forward. you were a trained individual, and kenshi couldn't help but be fully enamored.

you embodied everything kenshi aspired to be, and he was torn between wishing you two would spend more time together, to wishing you'd kick the shit out of him. maybe both?

"i come requesting for a sparring partner," kenshi explains, eyes transfixed on your perfect form. he had to avert his gaze to the ground as he bowed, lest he fall victim to your beauty. "i was hoping for some advice and feedback."

you agree, considering it's your job. and so, you begin setting up the environment for a spar. the floor is cleared and you roll up your sleeves, taking your personal fighting stance. kenshi almost forgot to ready himself when you charged at him.

you were objectively a better fighter than him, sword or otherwise. his blows were easily parried and his punches were matched with kicks. and sure, he had a crush now, but when you stood over him with your hands on your hips, something stronger blossomed. he felt his face become hot as he laid flat on his back between your legs.

then, he smirked with a newfound confidence. now or never, tattoo.

"perhaps we should spar more often, if this is the outcome," he'd slyly remark.

his comment earned him a week of scrubbing floors, but he doesn't regret it, no matter how hard johnny and lao pointed and laughed. and neither do you.

♡

syzoth >

he fought like hell to get out of outworld, freed from the shackles of shang tsung's imprisonment. when the portal behind everyone closed, syzoth stood awkwardly alongside ashrah behind the earthrealmers.

"meet the newest players of earthrealm," johnny introduces them to liu kang, though he is already familiar with their existence. he created them, after all.

"syzoth, ashrah, please," liu kang gestures for them to follow him. he needed intel on the situation, and fast. something sinister was brewing.

he leads them into a large room decorated with hourglasses and dragon statues. tables with scattered scrolls, maps, and figurines litter the room. this must be liu kang's workspace.

as syzoth enters the spacious room, he is marveled at the intricacy of the designs. what captures his attention quicker, though, was you. you were sitting in a distant chair, standing upon the group's arrival and taking your spot beside liu kang.

"this is my trusted assistant," liu kang introduces you, and you bow to them respectfully. "please inform them of any useful information regarding shang tsung."

syzoth feels as if life slows down, and his cold blood send a shiver down his spine. his face flushes with a greenish tint, and he already finds himself impossibly infatuated with your appearance. you remind him of an ancient statue, how your beauty deserves to be preserved for all to appreciate. but at the same time, he feels a strong desire to keep you to himself.

you sit across from the zaterran, briefly introducing yourself before diving into the questioning. syzoth, however, can't seem to focus on your words, only your plush lips.

"syzoth," you say, trying to regain his attention that is obviously diverted. "tell me how you fell into shang tsung's imprisonment."

syzoth tries so hard to spill the entire timeline, but his words stumble over each other every time he looks up at you. your eyes are so warm, so inviting, so perfect. he's flustered incredibly quickly. it's so obvious that even ashrah playfully rolls her eyes from a distance.

you make him nervous, and that's really cute.

♡

johnny >

johnny walks through the portal with new his fellow chosen ones, taking in the view of the academy. he tunnel visions hard, only focusing on getting adequate information using his phone. that is, until he pans over to the group of monks awaiting his arrival. he stops on you, shamelessly zooming in to get a good view of your face.

"didn't know monks could be so sexy," he'd call out with a smirk, not even putting his phone down for a single second to admire you in person. it's only when kenshi shoves his arm downward that he actually gets a good look at you.

his playboy jokes would die down when he neared you as it was replaced with a warm obsession. you were drop-dead gorgeous. he could score you some roles in movies, you could be the face of perfumes across the globe!

what he felt wasn't like hollywood infatuation. he wanted to know more than what you hid under your robes, which was relatively new to him. he felt the need to grow and change to earn your praise.

he felt little to no shame about this realization. every chance he could, it was an offer to dinner, an offer to visit his sleeping quarters, or him casually dropping he'll be in the secluded hot springs after training, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you heard him.

johnny would make a clear effort to somehow always be in your way, forcing you to interact with him. he'd insist on cleaning your dishes, always be first up for demonstrations, and just so happened to memorize your schedule and "accidentally" bump into you on the gravel paths. it was so abundantly obvious that this man was head over heels, it was kind of embarrassing.

you didn't entertain the actor, honestly. it's not that you didn't like him, it was that he'd A) flirt with a vase if it had nice curves, and B) your duties were more important than a celebrity. or at least, you forced yourself to believe it.

"come on baby, surely you're wondering what kind of punch a hollywood actor packs."

"in your dreams, cage," you'd reply with a smile, knowing damn well you want to take him up on his offer later.

♡

liu kang >

he swore to never get entangled with mortals, not after what happened - or rather, didn't happen - with kitana.

liu kang grows out of this infatuation after eons of busywork and dedicates himself to the stability of the timeline. nothing could distract him from his duties.

that is, until he met the New Era you. you were a relatively insignificant part in his life prior to the timeline reset, so he never paid much attention to you or knew you existed. but, this time around, liu kang took some creative liberties and decided to give you a more significant purpose. what he didn't do was see you before this moment.

he was discussing important matters with geras at the wu shi academy, mind only focused on the importance of the hourglass and the absurdity of recent events revolving a somehow resurrected titan. as he circles the sandy display, he glances through the vision and realizes you, one of the monks, is standing in the doorway with seemingly important knowledge to deliver.

liu kang feels his heart flutter, and he places his hand on his chest in mild surprise. his face remains stoic and expressionless, but it's clear that something winded him. geras glances over at the fire god with a knowing look.

"lord liu kang," you say with a quick bow, and liu kang makes a mental note to himself that he may or may not be into titles. "i come bearing news regarding the chosen ones."

liu kang stands there, his bright eyes totally unreadable. his lips open and close, and his tattoos flicker. he doesn't realize just how long he'd been staring and lost in thought. your beauty reminded him of the universe he painted, so elegant and full of life. he doesn't know how he didn't notice you sooner. to him, you were everything he wanted to be right in the world with your gentle features and kind voice.

geras waves a hand in front of him, making him blink and snap back into reality. he clears his throat.

"yes, yes, please," liu kang suddenly adopts a warm, loving tone, one that's more caring than his usual godly silky voice. his old personality shines through, the charming pretty boy attitude he swore to abandon eons ago. "you may enter, my dear. some tea?"

geras makes the observation that he's sweeter to you than most others, but he's going to keep that to himself. for now, he just watches with mild amusement as liu kang prepares a small cup of matcha for you with a smile that travels into his glowing eyes. he witnessed that look before, when he'd see his kitana. but this was new, this was something that could be beautiful if he let himself try.

[pedgito]

hi! would u ever be comfortable writing about eddie's uncut cock? if not, it's totally fine. hope ur having a great day! <3

author’s note: funny you ask, because yes, absolutely. and look, i know people have varying opinions but let me be a whore in peace with my own nsfw headcanons, i don’t care what others think about eddie’s dick because this is just what sits in my brain. this was meant to be a small blurb so ignore the lack of form that i usually keep.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) obviously lots of dick talk what else do you expect, talks of self-exploration/masturbation, eddie dealing with some body issues pertaining to the topic in the ask, handjobs, oral (m receiving), i don’t apologize for any of this.

word count: 1.4k

eddie doesn't realize how uncommon it is until the reactions become the same and frequent, eventually forcing eddie to hate any kind of sexual interaction outside of himself for a while—he knows it's not a big deal, but the judgey looks and offhanded comments about how weird it was didn't make him impenetrable. it was always there in the back of his mind.

but eddie has always been about self-exploration, maybe to an unhealthy degree as he got older, interacted with girls less, buried himself into hellfire club and his side business of dealing—he usually kept interaction to a minimum, which wasn't hard when most of the school despised him.

and he can't imagine how anything could be better, his dick laying heavy against his belly as his fingers dragged up under his balls, touching delicately, almost teasing in a way before he gripped himself forcefully, tugging down until the head peeks past the skin in all of it's glistening glory, precum smeared over the slit as he slides back up, squeezing the head between his thumb and forefinger under the foreskin.

he thought being this sensitive was normal, but he was proven wrong time and time again. he's learned over time and through a lot of experience how to hold himself back, squeeze himself at the base to keep himself from coming too early or letting go completely, occasionally trying the tactic of squeezing the head until the feeling fades, it works wonders, but still, it doesn’t prepare him for the real thing—he's embarrassed when he's coming in the hands of some beautiful girl he sat next to in english class at the beginning of his first senior year, only some unrhythmic strokes of her hand and her thumb rubbing over the head of his cock before he's there, spilling over her hand without warning.

and when he’s really eager and seeking the relief, he's quick, knowing just the ways to touch himself, how sensitive the head of his cock can get under the skin and he's there before he can even process, groaning through clenched teeth.

he meets you somewhere between the beginning of his hopefully last year of school and the few weeks before then end of '85—he doesn't understand how you came into his life, telling himself how he surely manifested you, that there's no possible way you were real.

regardless, eddie's is riddled with nerves the first time you touch him, making some off-handed comment about how not pretty his dick is, hoping it isn't a total deal breaker.

you can't help but look at him, eyes wide but your gaze scewed, confused on why any of that would matter. you can't remember the last time you've found that to be a dealbreaker.

when you finally get his pants down, sneaking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers until his dick springs free, you realize just how dramatic eddie was being about the whole thing, having been fed some idea that uncut dicks weren't as acceptable as the contrary and it's a shame, because if it isn't the prettiest dick you've ever seen, arguing his earlier statement with a quick quip that has eddie laughing through his nervous blush.

"eddie—i don't say this to too many guys, none actually," you glance up at him briefly before trailing your fingers along the hard ridge of his abdomen, barely grazing him, "your dick is very pretty."

"careful," eddie warns with a grin, teeth peeking through slightly, "you'll give me an ego."

eddie watches you wearily, your eyes taking in the full sight of him as your fingers wrap around the shaft, the soft velvety texture of his skin pressing against your palm and fingertips.

his thick, not so much that it's intimidating but he fills out your hand in the best way and somewhere between seven and eight inches, the head of his cock a deep pink that slightly contrast the softer shade of his skin and you're pulling the skin back to rub your thumb over the tip, earning a hiss from eddie in response.

"sensitive?" you ask teasingly, smiling at eddie's reaction before you repeat your previous movements, circling his head with a torturous pressure that has eddie gripping the pillowcase above his head, chin tilting down slightly against his chest to look at you, his eyes squeezing shut momentarily as the feeling becomes too much.

"okay, okay," he rushes out, "maybe ease up on that unless you want—want this to be over in the next five seconds."

he's right, so you relent, continuing the slow drag of your hand as you gauge his reactions, the easy glide that the skin creates until you're leaning forward to lick a stripe along the underside of his dick, tracing along the faint vein that ran there before you’re practically drooling over him, the mix of your spit and his own precome making it more overwhelming before you're closing your mouth over him completely, keeping the same pace of your hand as your mouth hollows out around the tip.

eddie feels like he might die, but he's fully accepting it.

"oh fuck—shit, that's so much better than—" eddie rambles mindlessly, "never—never had anyone suck my dick before."

which is a shame, because it's easily becoming your favorite thing.

"can't see how," you reply as your bottom lip drags along the ridge of his blushed tip, “but i guess that makes me lucky.”

“just—girls always looked at me strange, said it was weird,” eddie comments, “like i have any control over that, guess my parents have always been destined to fuck me over, even from birth.”

you laugh along with him, his rambling thoughts slipping past his lips and filling the quiet lull of the air.

you were so thankful eddie wasn’t the type to stay quiet, because while his sounds were torture, the way his voice cracked with every few words was even better. you let him talk as much as he pleased until he physically couldn’t, his fingers slipping over the top of your head and into your hair, squeezing lightly as your shifted your hand up, skin slipping back over the head as you pressed your tongue over the small glimpse of his slit that was still visible, moaning softly as he tugged a little harsher, mumbling something under his breath you couldn’t make out.

“can’t wait to have you inside me,” you confess, his eyes lighting up as they connected with yours, “don’t ever want you thinking anything negative about yourself again, either—it’s not true.”

eddie nods slightly, “fuck—can’t say stuff like that with my dick in your mouth, sweetheart.”

you prod further, breath ghosting over his dick as you spoke, “why?”

eddie groans quietly, speaking through gritted teeth, “really need you to stop unless you’re okay with me coming in your mouth—i’d hate—hate to do that without asking.”

your teeth drag along your bottom lip, biting at the skin briefly.

“is that you asking?” you giggle softly, stopping briefly with skin pulled back to take him into your fully and fast, earning a choked gasp from eddie.

eddie nods again, more needy, “uh huh—yes, yes—god, please—“ and it’s only a few seconds later that he’s spilling into your mouth, his own hand wrapping around his shaft to pump it quickly, swatting your own hand away, salty slick pooling over your tongue in spurts, the warm liquid wouldn’t be as enticing if it wasn’t for it being from eddie—and you wouldn’t dare let a man come in your mouth like this, but eddie had earned that right.

you pull back slowly, swallowing for show as eddie squeezed at his dick, thumb rubbing over the head tenderly as his body jerked slightly with aftershocks.

“i’ve never—“ eddie sighs heavily, catching his breath, “never came that hard, holy fuck. i’ve always been sensitive but jesus—“

“i guess that’s quite the perk then,” you tease, crawling back up the slowly until your clothes cunt is pressed over his slowly soften dick, “amongst others.”

“you sure it doesn’t gross you out?” eddie asks curiously, having been programmed to always think it does, needing to hear the words for reassurance.

you grind the soft fabric cover your hips over his cock, feeling the subtle pressure it applies and watching eddie wince from the overstimulation, chucking weakly.

“positive.” you smile, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss against his lips, quickly turned dirty from eddie’s obvious impatience, his tongue slipping into your mouth to taste a mix of you and himself, the tanginess strange but welcoming as you moaned into his mouth openly.

“about being inside you—“ eddie starts, speaking softly against your lips, “can i take you up on that?”

“i thought you’d never ask.”

and it’s safe to say that eddie never doubts himself again, learning just how beautiful every piece of him is.

[woofwoofwolf]

PURRING FOXES

Genshin masterlist: [link]

Summary:

Your relationship with Tighnari has been nothing but a blessing. You've always seemed to be in perfect sync, helped by the fact that you're the same species. ... But, is it really okay to leave that undiscussed? OR reader and Tighnari talk about what it means for their relationship to be Valuka Shuna.

Notes: Reader is Not Traveler, this is some real furry shit ngl, Fluff, reader is the same race as Tighnari, Established Relationship, Animal Traits, Hurt/Comfort, I tried my best but this is prob OOC, like. racism against animal hybrid people?, Communication Issues, GN reader,

Word count: 3,324

Shiny black fox ears stood tall on top of Tighnari’s head, twitching occasionally as the man paused to think. You could sense how focussed he was from watching his tail swish, your own tail and ears unconsciously shifting in call and response to his. Being both Valuka Shuna, you understood each other well like that. 

Your tail accidentally hit the door of his study and it creaked. The feverish scratching of Tighnari’s pen came to a halt and he turned around with a jolt. 

“(Y/N)!” His eyes darted towards the small clock placed on his desk. “I'm afraid I lost track of time, else I'd have some tea ready for your arrival.”

He moved to stand, but then halted briefly, the notes in his journal earning a couple more hesitant glances. Ultimately, however, he decided he wanted to focus his attention on you instead. Something you deeply appreciated, since you knew how dedicated he was to his work. Tighnari was always mindful about the fact that the two of you could only spend limited time together since you lived all the way at Caravan Ribat, your life as a merchant keeping you just as busy as the forest kept him. Every now and then, you’d plan a weekend where you’d come and stay in one of the vacant houses in Gandharva Ville so you could spend some time together.

His chair creaked as he made his way over to you. Unprepared to shift your quiet admiration into interaction, you put down your weekend bag instead of giving him the hug he expected. Looking back at him, you saw that his fond smile had faltered, in all likelihood caused by the downcast aura you were emitting. Despite this, he gently but resolutely placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Rough day?” He asked with a smile, his thumb rubbing at your tense muscles. You shook your head, but didn’t have anything to add.

“Oh well, rough week then?”  You let out a breathy laugh and finally allowed yourself to ebb into his frame. Tighnari returned the embrace, offering great comfort.

“Just tired…” You mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

This earned you a hum in response and a tentative kiss in between your ears. “Take it slow this weekend. If you want to stay inside instead of accompanying me on patrols then please tell me. Anything you need, just let me know, alright?”

Anything, huh...

“Tighnari..?”

“Hmm?”

“Could we- Instead of tea, could we cuddle..?”

Your ears warmed from your own question. Surely, you had been together for long enough to be more blunt in asking for his attention? In the beginning Tighnari really seemed to struggle with giving physical affection, but you always craved to hold his hand, to hug him goodbye, or to kiss him on the cheek when he rambled about his work to you. Even though he seemed to have warmed up to your touch, you were scared that directly asking him for it would be too much.

To your relief, Tighnari stepped back with an affirming smile and wordlessly led you to his bedroom. It was a bit awkward shuffling around to find a comfortable position, but finally you ended up with your head on his chest and your legs tangled up together. After only a minute Tighnari's breathing calmed and he started brushing his hand through your hair. Meanwhile, you silently tried to calm your heart rate as you listened to his steady beat. This loving side of Tighnari, without all the sarcastic comments or nagging felt very special to you and you were nearly certain he’d never show it to anybody else. You tried to enjoy this special moment, but it was hard to settle down. The earthy and floral tones of his scent invaded your sensitive nose, fresh and herbal from his body and deep and sleepy from the neatly made up covers beneath you. 

Eventually his hand stilled. You moved your head to meet the pouty frown painted on his face. “If you're going to toss around like a spinokrok with a fever, I don't see any point in lying down like this.”

Ah, oops...

After having known him for a few years, you knew this comment was meant to convey concern, rather than annoyance. Well, he was still annoyed of course.... And although it would be nice to shake off all your anxieties and just enjoy your time together, it seemed like you couldn’t just relax after all.

You sighed. “Tighnari…”

“Yes?” He sounded alarmed at your exasperated tone.

“What are we?”

Silence. Well, that attempt to breach the subject was a bust. Too direct maybe? It clearly wasn't what he was expecting to hear.

“You didn’t eat a conic, pink and white striped striped mushroom on your way here did you? You’ve been acting strange tonight.”

“Tighnari, I'm serious…”

The sheets rustled as Tighnari shifted so he could look you in the eye, his arm still around your back. His cheeks looked a little rosy.

“Well, I for one was under the impression we were dating… I thought I had communicated my intentions quite clearly.” The slight pout on his face squeezed at your heart, temporarily emptying your head of all thoughts. He jolted as you suddenly pulled your hands up to his ears and softly stroked the soft appendage between your finger and thumb, desperate to find a way to act on the boiling affection you felt for him. Like yours, his ears were warm, the skin almost as soft as the furred side. The pulse softly thumping underneath your fingers sped up ever so slightly. 

Ahh.. this is nice… Never before had you touched his ears and although you obviously knew what Valuka Shuna ears felt like, touching his was… different.

When your gaze moved down from his ears to his face you were surprised to find his eyes tightly shut, face completely red. You were about to ask if he was okay when he let out a nearly inaudible whimper.

“Did you just whine?” You laughed. In a flash your hand was snatched away from his ears. His expression was annoyed, but not angry, so you continued your teasing. “Don't you offer people to touch them all the time?”

“N-no! It's because it’s- You- Y-You're making it sound as if I go around asking people to fondle me on a daily basis-”

Tighnari’s ears shifted back in annoyance at your giggles. Oh, he was so much fun to tease.

“Hmm, Sorry,” you whispered. You brought your other thumb back up and softly stroked his warm cheek.

“You're awfully affectionate today…” Tighnari grumbled, avoiding eye contact, though he did move his grip from your wrist down to hold your hand.

“You don't like it..?”

When his eyes shifted back to yours, they had a serious glimmer to them. “No, I adore you…” You, rather than it, you noted. “(Y/N) talk to me, I can see you struggling, you know.”

Alright, here goes nothing… Let’s not avoid this any longer.

“I, ehm, don’t really know how to start...” You confessed. Tighnari gave your hand a squeeze. Now that you started talking he seemed… relieved? “I-I’ve been feeling- I eh.. It’s kind of embarrassing, really.”

“Did anything happen to incite these feelings?” If it was a different topic you would probably have laughed. It was like he was trying to find the cause of a weird rash. It was the most logical place to start, however.

“Oh well… Do you remember what I said about Affnu..?” Judging by Tighnari’s sour face, he did remember.

“That one lady that compared you to her dog?”

“That’s the one…” Sometimes you’d encounter these people that are weirdly biased against human hybrids, but this lady in particular had some very odd assumptions about you. She was an old widow living in Caravan Ribat and according to some of the other merchants you worked with, she had always had a few screws loose.

Tighnari rolled his eyes. “What did she say this time?”

Your stomach churned. “S-someone must have told her I had a boyfriend. And ehm, well she came up to ask me about it, I guess. She was weirdly mad about it?”

“Mad?” You didn’t blame him for his incredulous tone.

“Maybe mad isn’t the right word, b-but she said because I’m a fox I shouldn’t just ehm. Date whomever and that I should stick to my own sort-” That wasn’t really what she had said, but you’d rather not repeat her exact words, Tighnari’s already seemed angry enough. “Don’t worry this time people intervened, so I didn’t have to deal with it for long.”

“When did this happen?”

“About a week ago,”

Tighnari took a sharp breath. You could tell he was trying to control his anger. And although you knew it wasn’t directed at you, you still desperately hoped he wouldn’t judge you for what you would say next. 

“Honestly, I’ve been feeling a bit.. weird?”

“Archons, I’d be weirded out too if I had to deal with that.”

That hadn’t been what you meant. “At first I was angry, but recently I’ve been thinking, ehm you know…” Tighnari patiently waited for you to continue, but the words you were hoping to come up with still wouldn’t come, so he spoke instead.

“You don’t need to give this lady any thought (y/n). I think you should report her to the matra for harassment.”

You nodded slowly. “Right. Eh. She got arrested actually,” 

“Good,” Tighnari pulled you closer. “Should she try anything else I might just ask Cyno to intervene. The nerve of some people.”

“I heard her yelling things about King Deshret as she was taken away. I don’t think she cares that the rebellion was disbanded. Not that she was part of them to begin with, she’s just like that, I think.”

Tiighnari seemed to be in thought. It made you wonder if you should’ve bothered him with the full story after all. You were kind of veering away from what you needed to talk about in the first place, so you felt frustrated. And that after you build up all that courage.

“Unforunately, this can happen with age. If she doesn’t have the right support system it can be hard to keep these sort of aggressive episodes unchecked.” There he went again, looking at things from an analytical angle.

“Tighnari!” His name came out in a yell. Well, that shut him up. More aggressively than you would have liked, however.

“I.. I’ve been so. So frustrated!" You confessed in between gasps of air. You sat up on your knees, leaving behind a perplexed Tighnari. You didn’t mean to, but the tears came regardless. “D-did you know that- that Valuka Shuna lovers purr when they’re together, and ehm, did you know they intertwine tails when they sit next to each other? That they let their, erm, their ears touch. That they- that they scent each other?”

Tighnari's eyes were blown wide open, the redness returning to his face in full force. He sat up on his elbows to face you. “(Y/N) I- I don't know what to say.”

A sob left your lips. That was so embarrassing, why did it have to come out like that? You shook his arm off and moved away from him. He was always so patient in hearing you out, why couldn’t you find the patience to be heard?

“I'm sorry, forget I said anything- I didn't mean it like that,” You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, but before you could stand up, a hand grabbed at your shoulder. 

“N-no wait,” He said. “I’m sorry, it’s just- I guess I’m just new to this. The whole relationship thing I mean. You surprised me, is all.”

You didn’t relax in his grip and let out a few more sobs, tears flowing down your face. Tighnari’s mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish before he found his words. “I guess.. you’re not wrong. These are things I have observed in my parents when I was young. W-what’s this about, so suddenly?”

“You never treat me like that. Even though I thought I could finally have someone to connect to.” 

You knew. You knew what kind of man he was. Reserved and although seemingly confident standoffish, he really was quite awkward and tender hearted. It wasn’t enough to stop you from leaving him a babbling mess. The selfish part of yourself wanted him to, despite all the guilt. God what was wrong with you.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), I’m sorry- Talk to me please,” He sounded so hurt… 

Finally, you had to admit you were self-destructing. You slumped down, the tension leaving your body.

“You know… Since my dad died when I was 8,” You scrambled for anything to explain how you felt, even though you had told him before about your father. “And with my mom being fully human, I just never felt connected to that part of me. When Affnu said all these things I couldn’t help but wonder, why are we together? Does it matter what we are? Does it make us more special? A-and afterwards when I looked it up in a book about our biology, I realised, you and I weren’t like the book at all. That… That made me think that maybe I had misunderstood our relationship entirely.” Your voice had gotten smaller as you went on, fizzling out as you finished speaking. That was it. That is what you were struggling to convey. The guilt from your tantrum was hitting you full force the second you stopped talking. Your eyes hadn’t moved up from your hands while you were speaking, but now that it was silent, you didn’t even want to imagine the look on Tighnari’s face.

“(Y/N).” His voice was firm. “Can I hold you again?” You couldn’t detect any anger from him, as patient as ever.

“Oh Tighnari,” You sobbed. “Please hold me.”

Instead of circling his arms around you like you had expected, he moved to sit next to you, and placed his arm around your middle, pulling you down to rest your head on his shoulder. You gasped as you felt his tail brush up to yours, trying to curl around it. You let him.

“I-is this okay?” He asked, sounding very unsure of himself. You gave a bewildered nod. 

“I-I’m sorry Tighnari. Sorry for getting angry.” You were sure he would be equally as cross with you, but he wasn’t. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

“It’s okay... Don’t think I’ve got this figured out, okay? I can deal with the trials and tribulations of the rainforest much more easily, but truth is, I’m really awkward when it comes to these things.”

You snorted through the tears, his clumsy wording catching you off guard. “Gee, really?”

Tighnari sighed, relief making its way onto his face. “You will never miss an opportunity to make fun of me, will you?”

“Never,” you laughed weakly. You tried not to jump as Tighnari brought up his hand to dry off your tears, but you couldn't help the twitch in your tail. He didn’t let go. You didn’t want him to either. It was silent for a bit and you felt yourself being calmed by his scent, your sniffling slowly dying down. 

“To answer your question,” he suddenly said, enunciating clearly like he always did. “I think it DOES matter. That we’re both Valuka Shuna, I mean. Not that that weighed heavily in deciding on this partnership, but I think it is always nice to have something to share.”

This evening had been such a storm of emotions. And right now you were soaring above the clouds. All because of this dork of a man.

“I want to apologize if it felt like I was purposely avoiding certain aspects of your identity. I guess I was, really, I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But now I see I shouldn’t have left this unspoken.”

You nodded, feeling a bit surprised at his confession. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“Of course, I'll answer to the best of my ability.”

“You seem so confident about it all. Whenever people ask me questions, I feel so awkward, but you have no problems answering them at all. How does it not bother you?”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Dealing with these people, it’s kind of part of my job, unfortunately.” You had to deal with stupid clients too, you wanted to object, but you didn’t want to start the ‘Who has to deal with the most annoying people in their job’ argument again, because Tighnari would always insist there were more idiots that crossed his path compared to yours. Although, maybe he’d let you win now you had told him about Affnu. “Besides, if people want to judge me on superficial factors such as my tail and ears, then that’s their problem, not mine.”

“Are they superficial to you? Your ears and tail?” You felt like a curious child, asking all these questions.

“Well, not to me. But my hybrid status is none of their business.” Tighnari's left ear tilted down until it was touching yours. Was he going down a checklist of actions you had just talked about? It was a little clumsy, but it endeared you. “For us… For us it can be as important as we make it to be.”

 “I guess that makes sense… You know, I rarely get the opportunity to interact with other hybrids. I feel like I'm faking being exactly like them all the time. The humans, I mean...”

“This is actually not uncommon in mammals,” Tighnari interjected. “The ability to adapt to one's surroundings is an important skill for survival after all.”

“You're such a nerd,” You said. “I love you, Tighnari.”

He laughed. “I guess I love you too.”

Wow. It felt nice to have finally said that.

You moved your head off of his shoulder and looked at him properly. His eyes shifted around for a second before he held your gaze, and you felt a light spark tickling your spine. Next, you felt a wave of comforting joy wash over you when your lips touched. The kiss was noncommittal and careful, but the most loving one you’d ever had.

“How do we know if we’re forever?” You whispered. Tighnari’s ears shifted back in surprise, and the lovely eye contact you two were sharing was broken.

“W-well, ahum. The mating for life thing technically doesn’t start until.., well you know-”

“Oh. Oh hm.” you both sat up straight. “I eh. Let’s leave that conversation for another day, shall we?”

Tighnari cleared his throat. “Let’s. Until that time, let’s keep up the open communication. How are you feeling?” He moved to stand up from the bed, examining you up and down to make sure things were properly talked out.

“...A bit hungry. I eh, might or might not have had anything to eat since this morning?” Tighnari’s face fell.

“What? Why didn’t you say so earlier! What have I told you about eating properly?” There was the full return of the nag master.

“Why’d you think I’ve been so emotional tonight, I’m starving!” You held out your arms for Tighnari to pull you up from the bed. He left you hanging, both hands on his hips.

“Really now, sometimes I wonder how you manage to survive out there in the desert.”

“Caravan Ribat isn’t in the desert!”

“It’s more than close enough!” He argued before finally pulling you up. You moved in as close as you could.

“Hmm, and too far away from you?” You asked with a smirk on your face. Tighnari pushed you back down to your feet with an unamused look on his face.

“Enough with you, you can have some of the food I prepared for tomorrow.”

You let yourself be pulled towards the kitchen. “Whatever you say darling!”

-----------

IT'S FINALLY DONE! I've been working on this for a while actually,, well, longer than I usually do for this amount of words. It's not perfect, but I am happy enough with it.

PLEASE PLEASE let me know what you think if you have something to say, it is always very encouraging to get comments. Especially for 'less popular' characters. (life would be so much easier had I been a Gojo stan or smth)

On that note, I'm pretty sure there are no gendered terms used for reader in this fic,, but I don't usually actively make an effort for that. I write these for myself and I'm a cis woman, so there might be some slip ups. If there is a part that isn't gender neutral let me know and I'll remove the tag.

Also, important note: I know that Tighnari’s race is “Tighnarian” but that is such a stupid writing decision that I’m overruling it. We’re going by Valuka Shuna, which is what his ancestors were called.

Now that we’re talking about lore anyways, apparently “Valuka” means desert in Aranara language, which is kind of funny considering Tighnari blames his dark fur for not being able to handle the desert? I imagine others in the same species or at least their ancestors probably had a colouring similar to the foxes you can see in the desert. That being said, one of his voice lines is about how his father is currently researching beetles in the desert, and he has dark hair and ears, so… I’m at a loss.

Writing for Tighnari is hard because I admire him so much but he's also an asshole and a huge nerd,, and I think he would be super awkward when it comes to communication? But at the same time he's pretty emotionally intelligent so I hope this isn't super OOC or anything.

Cross posted to AO3

[faux-ecrivain]

Yandere Darling

Yandere Darling x gn reader

(Eighteenth Official Post)

(This isn’t my best)

(Yan’s name is Amos)

Yan Darling that used to be kidnapped, that thought he would never escape.

Yan Darling who fought everyday to keep his Kidnapper from hiring him (regardless of how much they claimed they loved him).

Yan Darling that almost gives in after months and months of torture and mind breaking, who almost believes the Kidnapper when they say no one’s coming for him. (“Give up Amos, sweetheart, no one’s looking for you, no one wants you.”)

Yan Darling who cries tears of joy (and anguish) when you rescue him (completely by accident, you just wanted to rob the place).

Yan Darling who panics when you leave his side to talk to the police officer, he’s afraid that’ll he’ll get hurt again if you aren’t with him. 

He tugs on the back of your shirt, your turn your head to look at him and are met, briefly, with teary eyes, and pouty lips. “Please don’t go, I’m scared..” He mumbled, his eyes cast to the ground  and his hand clutching your shirt like a life line. You can’t help but feel the urge to protect him, to watch over him and it’s only because he reminds you of your little brother. “Alright, I’ll stay, but I’ll have to talk to the policemen eventually.”

Yan Darling who’s eyes light up when you tell him you’ll go with him, his heart pounds when you ride in the ambulance with him and then when you sit beside his bed he can’t help but cry again.

Yan Darling who cries even more when you try to sooth his cries, he apologizes over and over again. He feels so terrible crying in front of you like that, he shouldn’t do that, but he can’t help himself.

Yan Darling who starts giggling when you begin to panic over him, he giggles even more when your face contorts into confusion and you don’t know how to help him.

You were fussing over a crying Amos when he started to giggle, you didn’t know what was so funny and asking him didn’t help. He just kept giggling, then when your face shifted into confusion he began to full on laugh. (It was kind of creepy) He only stops when he starts coughing and his throat feels sore, it’s been a while since he laughed like that. Amos smiles when you hand him a glass of water, you’re so kind to him.

Yan Darling who pouts when you have to leave, no he doesn’t care if visiting hours are up, he just wants to spend time with you.

Yan Darling who makes you swear to come back tomorrow, or he’ll never talk to you again, and feels delighted when you agree.

Yan Darling who can’t wait for you to come back and when you do return, he greets you with open arms. 

Yan Darling who chats with for hours and hours, occasionally bursting into tears if you show him an inkling of kindness. Each moment spent with you is a moment he cherishes.

Yan Darling who looks forward to you visits and even dreams about visiting you.

Yan Darling who was upset when you didn’t come in on your usual days, then he got even more upset when his family visited instead of you. He doesn’t like his family, but they don’t seem to care.

Yan Darling who gives you the cold shoulder when you do eventually come visit, regardless of the reason you give him (or the apology).

“Amos, I’m really sorry, I just got caught up in work and by the time I got off visiting hours were over. (Actually you were in jail and just got bailed out)” You apologize again, trying to get his attention and you even go as far as to place your hand near his own hand. He takes notice of this and can feel his resolve crumbling, he really wants to hold your hand. “Hmph, liar, I bet you were just avoiding me!” 

He grumbles, his lips pulled into a cute pour and his eyes narrowed in a heated glares. “No, I wasn’t avoiding you. I could never avoid you, I care about you too much.” You smile softly and his resolve wavers, he gives into your kindness, and cautiously grabs hold of your hand. “Hm, fine, i guess I’ll forgive you, but don’t do it again!”

Yan Darling who is so excited when he’s finally released, now he can go over to your house and spend more time with you!

Yan Darling whose mood quickly drops when he’s released to his family and not you. He didn’t want to be with them, he wanted to be with you..

Yan Darling who gives his family the cold shoulder, no matter how much they try to care for him (he knows it’s all an act).

Yan Darling who begins to lash out when his family forbids him from visiting you. (“I’m not a child, mum! I can make my own decision and see my own people!”)

Yan Darling who runs away from his family and wonders around until he comes across you. Actually, you had saved him once more when he had been cornered by a group of thugs and almost beaten up. 

Yan Darling whose heart races when he sees you defending him, protecting him and his mind runs back to when you first rescued him. You care about him so much, you must love him.

Yan Darling who readily nods when you make a joke of being his bodyguards and following him 24/7. He gets so confused when you become concerned for him, did he say something wrong (yes, he said you should stalk him).

Yan Darling who begins to cry when you ask him why he’s out so late and so far from home, he reluctantly informs you of his troubles and is overjoyed when you invite him over.

Yan Darling who finds your house fascinating, it’s so lived in and it’s so.. you!

Yan Darling who eagerly listens to the tales you regale him with tales of your exploits and stories about your childhood. 

Yan Darling who gets upset when you compare him to your younger brother, he doesn’t want to be your brother! He wants to be your lover. 

He pouts and glares at you, he doesn’t want to be your brother. “I’m not your brother! I’m not related to you at all!” He gets so confused when you giggle at his response, he’s being very serious right now. Don’t laugh at him!

Yan Darling who pouts and tells you to take him seriously, he’s a person too! 

Yan Darling who becomes relieved once you reassure him that you do indeed view him as a person (and essentially a man).

Yan Darling who whines when you tell him it’s bed time, but relents once you promise to tuck him in and kiss him good night.

Yan Darling who gets all flustered when you do actually tuck him in and kiss him good night. Ah, you must really love him!

Yan Darling whose face is all red when you kiss him, he’s never felt this way before..

Yan Darling who struggles to fall asleep and can’t help but think about you, think about a future with you.

Yan Darling who gets angry when he thinks about the prospect of you leaving him or finding another to dote on. His little heart couldn’t handle having you leave him and it definitely couldn’t handle you loving another!

Yan Darling who catches himself before his mind wanders into dangerous territory, he shouldn’t feel this way, especially not after what he’s gone through. He doesn’t want to hurt you like he was hurt, he wants to love you.

Yan Darling who apologizes when he sees you in the morning, which of course confuses you. Why is he apologizing?

Tears stream down his face as he confesses his thoughts and begs for your forgiveness, meanwhile you’re still trying to process that weird dream you had last night and this situation doesn’t help. You put down you mug and try to reassure him, surely whatever he’s feeling is normal, and he shouldn’t feel so guilty over such thoughts. After all, he seems to have no intentions to make his dreams come true.

Yan Darling who feels so much better after you accept his apology, that’s so kind of you and after he’s caused you so much trouble. Oh, he just wants to hug!

You’re surprised when Amos entraps you in a hug, you didn’t expect this to happen. You awkwardly pat his back and then wait for him to quit hugging you. He’s seemingly oblivious to how uncomfortable his unexpected hug makes you, he seems to take your reluctance to respond as you being shy. He smiles and hugs you tighter.

Yan Darling who whines when you manage to escape his hold, he just wanted to share his love with you.

Yan Darling who almost throws a temper tantrum when you prevent him from hugging you again.

Yan Darling who’s only placated when you  offer him some warm food, although he’s sure to kick up a fuss if you don’t cuddle him later this afternoon.

Yan Darling who becomes overly clingy and affectionate throughout the passage of time, each moment around him is spent in his hold or with him hanging off your arm.

Yan Darling who’s scared you’ll leave him alone and does whatever it takes to keep you happy.

(you can probably tell, but I lost motivation halfway near the end, when I started this fanfic i was half asleep and had stayed up all night. So, it wasn’t the best and I apologize for that.)

(Also, you could expect another post later today, but don’t get your hopes up!)

[queenie-official]

‘First Kiss’ Modern!Anakin

main masterlist

word count: 2,525

pairing: Modern!Anakin Skywalker x reader

summary: 3 times you kissed Anakin + 1 time he kissed you

a/n: it's been a while since i’ve written but i got inspired so here's a bit of childhood friends to lovers with modern ani and reader

first kisses everyone has them, some later than others. in your case it was a little complicated, on a technical note you’ve had your first kiss- wether or not it really counted was completely debatable. which is exactly what you were doing with Anakin right now.

“That doesn’t count Ani” you huff, crossing your arms as you lean back in Anakin’s desk chair. spinning back and forth slightly to keep your eyes off of his scrunched up face.

“why not?” he pushes, not understanding why you refused to count the moment as your first kiss.

“we were five and didn’t even know the significance of a kiss” you scoff, stopping yourself briefly to look directly at him as if that would help him understand where you were coming from.

he didn’t look convinced however, sitting up from the spot he was laying on in his bed. now leaning his back against the wall, brows furrowed in what you could only assume was confusion.

“we’d just gotten back from a wedding y/n, i’m pretty sure that was enough for our little minds to grasp the significance of a first kiss” he mocked the way you said significance, putting air quotes around the word as he spoke.

Anakin’s uncle’s wedding, it wasn’t a big event yet they’d invited your family. your mom was practically an unspoken family member so that wasn’t a surprise. what was shocking however was that kids were allowed at the wedding ceremony and not just the after party.

why your mom and Shmi thought you’d both have the attention span for such an event was beyond you.

neither one of you sat still at all, thankfully it was a venue where the wedding ceremony took place in the same spot as the after party. which gave you and Anakin lots of room to run off to when your parents finally gave up on trying to get you to stay in your seat.

truth be told you didn’t remember much of what happened that day probably because of how young you both were.

you remembered hiding under the clothed tables and playing hide and seek with Ani. the words from the priest as the ceremony proceeded was nothing but background noise for you. both of your occasional giggles escaping loud enough for all the adults to hear.

At some point you and Anakin just stayed under one table in particular, probably talking about cars and ponies. poking your heads out every once in awhile to see if it was over yet.

it was one of those times you stuck your head out that you saw it, the bride and groom kissing. you knew enough from all the princess movies you’d seen that this was an act of love. that gave little you an idea.

thankfully the ceremony was early in the morning and the party ended in the late afternoon. which meant the second you got home- after insisting to your mother you guys go over to the Skywalker’s house so you could play together longer, you hosted a little wedding of your own.

Anakin didn’t own a lot of teddys but he had enough for it to work in your mind. it took a bit of convincing on Anakin’s end before he agreed to ‘marrying’ you but the promise of you returning one of the car toys you stole from him was good enough of a deal for him.

so the two of you worked together still in the clothes you’d worn to his uncle’s wedding, to push the dining room chairs into a line and place his few teddys in them as the guests.

once you had the fun of ‘walking down the aisle’ you grabbed both of Anakin’s hands in yours and planted a kiss on his lips just like you’d seen at the wedding.

“yea definitely not- we were just copying what we saw at the wedding it one hundred percent does not count” you say matter of factly, staring at him blankly. unwavering in your stance on this matter.

Anakin rolls his eyes “fine but what about that time you kissed me at the park!” he protests, pointing an accusing finger at you. giving you a look that said ‘try and deny this one’ so you did.

“We Were seven!” you throw your hands in the air dramatically. “that’s only two years after the last one” you groan, running a hand over your face. “our frontal lobes were barely developed”

“it’s not like they’re fully developed now either, that doesn’t happen till like twenty-five” he says frustratedly.

of course he’d know that fact, you lean forward in the chair resting your elbow on your thigh as you now lean into your hand. “i said barely not fully” you retort to which he rolls his eyes.

“it counts” he says firmly.

Tag, a game you always hated. Anakin on the other hand loved it- of course he did, he could actually run fast. he was one of the tallest kids in your second grade class, and then there was you. one of the shortest kids in the class, the odds were never in your favor when it came to tag. between being slow and clumsy you never stood a chance, the only reason you were even participating is because Anakin Managed to convince you to play.

it was always like that between you two. no matter what you were doing, even if the other didn’t want to do it you’d somehow always manage to convince each other to join in.

joint at the hip from the moment you’d learned how to walk, both of your parents always said.

how he convinced you after you swore you’d never play tag again was surprisingly easy, ‘i’ll make sure you don’t get caught’ he had said. no promised you. and yet he was nowhere to be found as you hid behind one of the trees at the playground.

the sounds of whoever was it chasing the other kids around as they all screamed with glee and fear of being the next person who was tagged. it spun throughout the air like a summer breeze, for Anakin it was a thrilling sound- for you it was a warning that if they found you hiding you’d be it for sure.

which wouldn’t be a problem in your eyes if only it wasn’t next to impossible to catch up to the other kids and tag them.

at the end of the day it was always Anakin who’d let you tag him, ending your misery of being stuck playing the tagger for the rest of the game. you hated it, not liking stuff being handed to you but it was better then having to run for fifteen minutes straight trying to catch whoever you could.

“Kenobi’s It!” you heard a kid yell from in front of you. oh no… in front of you- in a split second you see the familiar boy with auburn locks run right beside you, a wave a panic runs through you as he lunges forward to tag you.

just as quickly you’re tugged backwards by your hand, Turning to face your savior only to see it was the very boy who promised to keep you from being tagged to begin with.

initially you were mad, after all he’d left you to fend for yourself only to somehow manage to save you last minute. but that anger just melted into relief that you weren’t it.

he tugged you along running to one of the playsets, carefully pulling you to hide under the slide with him.

finally he turned back to you, a bright smile on his face that showed he was proud of himself for getting to you in time.

you’d lunged forward then, kissing him right on his cheek as a thank you.

neither of you had time to react before you heard some kid yell “Padme’s it!” and the familiar sound of feet running straight to your direction. forcing you out of your hiding spot and running alongside each other.

big toothy grins on each of your faces.

“it definitely does not count, i didn’t even kiss you on the lips that time” you say annoyed but sit up proudly thinking you’ve won the argument.

“a kiss is a kiss y/n” you can’t help but laugh at his statement. if that was seriously his only defense for that counting as a first kiss then you really had won.

“anything that happens in Elementary school doesn’t count, half of the boys in our class still thought cooties existed” you continue to push, and Anakin looked just about fed up.

“okay if elementary school not counting is your only requirement then i raise you this” he begins leaving a small gap in the conversation so you could give your input or add any other requirements to the mix, but you don’t.

instead raising a brow waiting for him to continue. “sixth grade. Padme’s Birthday party.” he crosses his arms, now sporting a smug smile of his own.

“that was a dare!” you shout, blushing embarrassed at the memory.

cake had just been served. honestly you’d never seen such a big cake served at a birthday party, perks of being rich you’d guessed.

there weren’t even that many guests, maybe eight people your age and the rest were padme’s family members. which only consisted of her mom, dad, two aunts and cousin.

you weren’t complaining though, the bonus of such a big cake and so little people meant you could help yourself to as many slices as you wanted.

currently you were on your third slice, well past being full and heading into food coma territory but this was the best cake you’d ever tasted and you’d be damned if you didn’t consume as much as you physically could without vomiting.

Anakin was well into his fourth or fifth slice himself, between the two of you Padme’s birthday cake would be gone within the hour.

“i don’t think i’ve even seen you guys breathe in between slices” Padme's soft voice pulled you and Anakin’s attention almost immediately.

“i thought you said we could have as much as we want?” Anakin spoke through a mouth full of cake, the hard consonants coming out more as f sounds making it hard to understand him. well you understood him just fine, but judging from Padme's confused and disgusted face expression it was safe to say you were the only one.

she turns to you for an explanation but you just shrug. “it’s good cake” you say simply as if that’s answer enough. finishing the last bite of your slice before she tugged you along with her to join the others leaving Anakin to finish his slice by himself.

“look who’s finally joining us” a boy with blonde hair said, he looked familiar but you couldn’t remember his name. maybe he was in one of your classes? either way you just rolled your eyes not caring enough to give his subtle jab any real attention.

“we were going to play truth or dare you want in?” one of the other girls your age asked you, she had long brown hair. you had absolutely no clue as to who she was.

Padme was friends with a lot of people you didn’t know, Anakin and Obi-Wan being your only mutual friends. of course Obi-Wan wasn’t able to make it to this party, so it was just you and Anakin.

“sure why not” you said with a shrug. but by the shared look they all had, you began to think you might regret that decision.

the second the dare left the mouth of the brown haired girl you now knew as Armani you were about ready to strangle Padme who looked proud of her for asking you to do it. this was definitely a set up- you knew you should have picked truth.

“come on y/n, you scared?” the blonde boy- jacob, teased.

oh it was on. normally you’d find a way to wiggle your way out of the situation but you were not about to be called chicken by some boy who didn’t even know you.

so you spun right on your heel, and marched right up to Anakin.

the poor boy looked extremely confused and almost scared? like he was afraid you were about to tell him off for something- which in his defense your determined face did come off as an Angry one at times, plus you were also annoyed.

leaning down you planted a kiss right on his frosting covered lips.

it actually hurt quite a bit since you did it so quickly, you smashed your head against his in the process. but hey you did the dare.

you groan in embarrassment, rubbing the same spot on your forehead where you’d smashed into his years ago. you did your very best to forget about that memory and up until now you’d done a good job at it.

“uh uh you said the only requirement was that it couldn’t happen in elementary school. and that was middle school” he countered your previous comment.

“you said it yourself that was sixth grade- we were fresh out of elementary school, that’s practically still being in it” you glare and he scoots forward now sitting on the edge of his bed. your knees brushing against his.

“it was almost the end of sixth grade, so actually it was basically seventh grade. if we’re going by that logic” he runs a hand through his hair as he recalls the memory.

“regardless, it doesn’t count.” you huff once more, wanting this to be the end of the conversation.

his brows furrow in annoyance. “why are you so insistent on all those kisses not counting” he says exhaustedly.

“why are you so insistent on them being counted!” you throw the question back at him.

“because i count them” he says it so casually but with full sincerity all you can do is blink a few times, processing his confession.

he counts them.

to Anakin Skywalker his first kiss was when you were five and pretended to get married. His second kiss was when you were seven and thanked him for saving you from getting tagged. his third kiss was when you were 11 and smashed your face into his after he finished his last slice of cake.

now here you both were at 18 years old, fresh out of high school and on a technicality the only person you’d ever kissed was the very boy in front of you.

“but we were just kids?” it came out as a question, your voice a bit airy as you were still wrapping your head around the revelation.

“oh for crying out loud” the next thing you knew Anakin’s mouth was on yours.

he’d leaned forward from his seat on the edge of his bed, hands now resting on your thighs as he kissed into you.

your eyes fluttered close almost instantly.

“did that count?” he asks smugly once you both pull away. a big smile made its way onto your face as you looked at him now.

wether you liked it or not Anakin was going to be considered your first kiss and he insured that.

hey huns 🤭 have you missed me? i’ve missed you guys! i’m taking a bit of a break from writing my bridgerton au ani fic solely because the burnout was getting real 😭 so any new fics that go out are probably gonna be one shots i’ve been holding off on writing 😗 anyway hope you all enjoyed 💋💋