#child reader :3

[cokou]

ahh congrats on 100 followers!! and i didn't know if you wrote child reader but like ive been thinking about this for a hot minute now- child reader who just lost one of their teeth and still believes in the toothfairy puttint the tooth under the pillow at night it could be with anyone :'D

Tooth Fairy 歯の妖精

Multi Character Fic マルチキャラクター小説

event. 100 followers event! Requests all open till 17th of July 2024. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sum. child reader who lost one of their teeth and still believes in the tooth fairy! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. SFW! No warnings tbh. Child Reader is about the age of 7! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. THANK YOU SO MUCH ANONY!! Since you didn't mention any characters at all, i just hope i chose which character you adore in this post! :C If not, im so sorry! Thank you for the request! // Do not translate or transfer my works, this is my only account. Will not be crossposted anywhere. // Masterlist♡

E.Kidd

It was night time again, Kidd was sat on a chair between sets of rooms. He finally finished the weapon he was making up on his workshop, which means he gets to sleep early and good tonight. As he was drifting off to sleep, he heard a faint noise coming from your room.

For a second he heard a loud cry that was replaced by a loud shriek echoing against the thin walls of the room. He ignored the noise, thinking that (Name) was only playing around with their toy and it got stuck onto something. But as farther he ignored it, it was replaced by loud laughter with hints of crying.

He bothered to finally check out what that little chipmunk was doing right now. Standing up in front of your room, he was about to reach the doorknob. His body jolted as you kick the door open with a wide smile.

He looks at you, feeling that something was unusual with your appearance.

"What the hell is unusual with you today? You look different than usual."

"Look! Look! I lost a tooth!" You said excitingly, wiping away your tear stained eyes as you show your palm to him carrying your lost tooth. You grinned widely that your teeth displayed incompleteness in them.

"So that's what's different huh? Why are you so damn happy with losing a tooth?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Because! If I put this under my pillow tonight," You lean over at his ears as he kneels. "The tooth fairy will visit me!" you whisper at him.

A part of him thought to just break whatever you believe in and just say 'they're not real at all'. But how could he? (Name) was the cutest child ever!

"Ah, so that's what this is, it's pretty stupid you know that?"

"No it's not stew-pid! I'm gonna get a penny!" You danced around in happiness as you show off your teeth excitingly.

"Yeah okay sure, whatever. Go to sleep, it's almost past your bedtime." He turns you around, pushing you on the way to bed as he tucks you in.

"Okay— and if you don't like right now, you're not getting that freaking penny from that tooth fairy thing." He pats your head as you nod at him, finally shutting the lights off for you to drift off to sleep.

—

He waits half an hour to make sure you're sleeping, sneaking into your room. He inserts his hands under your pillow to find the stupid tooth that tucked on it. After feeling under pillow for a minute and a half and almost losing his mind, he finally finds it. He replaces the tooth with cents enough to make a whole penny.

Bonus+ He almost fell asleep waiting for the half an hour mark. And he never did this ever again making you think that the tooth fairy didn't like your missing tooths, making you sad.

T. Law

Yes, you woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him your tooth was almost falling off your gums. He told you to shrug it off and go to sleep, saying that it will fall on it's own when it needs to. You couldn't sleep after he sent you back to your room, waiting impatiently in front if the mirror.

Law suspected that you went back to sleep, checking you up on your room, he dound the gleeming of light outside the door. He entered the room and saw you sitting on a small vanity, showing off your teeth in the mirror.

"(Name)-Ya, your teeth won't come off if you stare at it like that.." He held your shoulders, slightly tapping it as he looks at you.

"But i wanna see the tooth fairy.." you look at him frowning.

"Tooth Fairy? Why do you think that?"

"Because, i saw a movie and it had a tooth fairy in it! They were small, and..and they're very cute!"

" Well i assure you if you wait by the morning your tooth will come off." He points your chin up and slightly tickles you, earning a small exhausted giggle from you.

You jump on your bed and tucked yourself sleep as Law turned off the lights and exited your room.

—

You excitedly woke up from the sleep and immediately rushing into the small vanity, your tooth had come off! You rushed into Law's bedroom at hopped on the bed, jumping on it happily.

"Wake up!" You continued jumping on his bed. Law wakes up and rubs the sleepiness of his eyes.

"(Name)-Ya... it's quite too early..." He sits up, grabbing your small legs and setting you down to sit on his matress. He looks at you curiously as you glow with happiness that he'd never seen directly from you.

"Look! Look!" You open your palms and there lies your tooth between. "It came off!" Your face had the widest grin on them that Law swore you looked like a ' >:D'.

"Hmm..why are we happy that you lost your tooth again?"

"TOOTH FAIRY!!" You pounce your whole weight at him and giving him a big, big hug. He reciprocates and congratulated you as the 'tooth fairy' would visit you.

Bonus+ He forgot to insert a coin under your pillow in exchange for your teeth and you ended up crying on his arms and claiming that all the stupid tooth fairy stuff was fake and he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty as he hid his laughter.

N. Robin & Nami

"Tooth fairy? Psh, that's stupid. They're not real." He scoffed at your remarks of claiming about the tooth fairy.

"But i saw it in a movie!" You two exchanged words as she claimed that no such things as tooth fairies were real and that they were just fantasies made up by a bunch of idiots, Robin had to step in with the fight and pulling you two back from exchanging words.

"Look Robin-nii..she said tooth fairies aren't real!" You point at Nami who was getting irritated.

"Because they aren't!" Nami was practically stomping her feet into the ground as you two fought.

"Come on now (Name), tooth fairies are indeed real." Robin kneels to look at you on the eyes and smiles at you, making you smile back at her words as well. She slowly licts you up with her flower-flower fruit, careying you within her reach and taking you into her arms. She places you besides her chair as she takes out her book.

"By the way Robin-nii, i lost a tooth today!" You seing your short legs into the chair as rhey did not reach the floor, Robin looks at you, smiling.

"Congratulations (Name), you really are growing fast." She rubs your back, her smile gleeming at you, making you grin widely at her kindness. She indeed notices the missing tooth that you were talking about.

"Do you think the tooth fairy will get my teeth?" You frown at her. "No way! Because they're not at all real!" Nami butts in again and crosses her arm while scoffing.

"No! They're real!" You fight back in response to Nami as she claims that the fairy wasn't real again. Robin chimes between you two, again. Fully assuring you that tooth fairies are indeed real. She whispere at Nami to just play the act to make sure you don't throw tantrums all over again and disturbing anyone.

Robin returns to you and hands you over a penny, congratulating you and telling you that you'll get lots of more when the fairy visits you tonight!

Bonus+ Nami tried convincing Robin that it was a waste to give you 2 pennies in exchange for a tooth, she loudly exclaims that tooth fairies aren't even real and she shouldn't even lie about it and make your hopes up. Unfortunately, Robin disobeys Nami's scolding and places 2 pennies under your pillow.

+ She was suprised to hear you cry to her in the morning saying that the fairy took the toorh but didn't leave any pennies under the pillow as Robin looked at Nami frowning. Robin talked to Nami afterwards.

P. Ace

As soon as you told him that your tooth was loose, he sat you up on a chair, picked up a piece of thread, and tied it around your loose tooth and tied the other end into the door. He convinced you that the tooth fairy was indeed real and you believed that it would give you 50 berries in exchange for your tooth.

So, he calmed you down and held the door. He opens the door, enough for the thread to stretch and closing it hard. You shrieked in pain as the technique didn't work, instead, the thread had broken up into two pieces of strings.

He convinced you that he had another great idea and it would work this time. He tied the thread into a nerf bullet and loaded it into a neef gun,

"3..2..1.." He shoots the nerf gun and nothing happened, you look at him with your mouth open to showcase the loose tooth. Just as you faced him, he grabbed the thread and pulled it off your gums, making you yell and cry at the sudden pain. He brings you into the bathroom and made you wash off the blood off your gums.

"And now the tooth fairy will come exchange you some 50 berries!" He smiled at you and patted your head, you believed him and his stupid antics that if you went to bed at night, that the tooth fairy would come and collect your tooth. You impatiently wait for the night to come, brushing your teeth and had Ace bring you to bed.

"Okay so, sleep now, if you wake up you'll see 50 berries under your pillow!" He pats your forehead and turning off your bedside lamp.

"But what if they don't get my teeth?"

"Nahhh, they will of course. They love teeth! Especially yours you know!" He caresses your cheeks and says goodnight to you as he left your room, leaving you to dridt off to sleep.

Bonus+ you couldn't sleep all night because you were overthinking about the tooth fairy, so when Ace sneaked into your bedroom to replace your tooth, you pretended that you were asleep. The next day you kept it a secret from him and acted giggly and happy.

+ He borrowed the 50 berries from Marco.

©Cokou 2024, all works belongs to me.

[the-massive-simp]

gignatic bf using tiny gf as a fleshlight? streching her inside wide open.

omg this idea is so good, thank you anon for sending it in! I hope you like this♡

warnings: nsfw. no pronouns or anatomy mentioned for reader.

He lowers you on his fat cock, his muscular arms holding your waist because he knows you won't have the strength to bounce on his dick on your own. He's so thick that you feel split in two, stretched to your limit, but it feels too good to tell him to stop. He slowly increases the pace, moving you faster on his dick, using you as his special fleshlight. You moan shamelessly, too lost in the moment to think about anything that isn't him or his dick or the immense amount of pleasure he's giving you. He moves one of his hands on your abdomen, rubbing it slightly.

"Look at it love, I'm so deep inside of you. Can you feel me filling you up completely?"

He presses the hand on the bulge that his enormous dick is creating in you. It feels so good that the knot that was growing in your belly snaps and you come undone on his cock.

"Aw my pretty baby is already cumming? You're so good for me darling, so good"

He then lifts you off his cock almost completely and then he slams you back down. You feel him twitching, and you know he's getting closer to his orgasm. He repeats the movements again and again, making you cry out his name from the oversimulation. He shushes you and he keeps fucking you, murmuring sweet praises in your ear. You feel him twitch before he shoots thick ropes of cum in you. He keeps you still on his cock while he empties his balls in you, kissing your neck and pinching your nipples.

"My sweet baby you did so good... but we're not done yet"

He flips you over, his big, strong body engulfing your smaller one. He leans down to kiss you passionately before bringing your legs over his shoulders. He starts to pound in your hole, the strength of his thrusts making you cling to his back, slightly scratching him with your nails. You know it's gonna be a long night.

[allfearstofallto]

Also wanting to write a yandere historical au!! Like so bad!! Like imagine...

[Part 2] [Part 3]

Spoiled Prince! Scaramouche who gets whatever he desires as the next in line for the throne. He needlessly torments you, his favorite maid to pick with. He knows that you can't run away, not while you're so poor and desperate. You're at his mercy, his every beck and call until you decide that you'd rather live on the rat infested streets than in his palace any longer. But you quickly begin to notice that the streets are littered with more than rodents, when you are made aware that Scaramouche has sicked the palace guards on you. Dragged back to the mansion, where he waits for you with a scowl. How dare you think you can run away from him?

Hero of the Nation, Knight! Childe who was already popular with the ladies for his good looks long before he slayed the dragon tormenting the kingdom, but now he was bombarded with admiration. Yet he still chases you, the baroness with what you and others assume is nothing special to your family's name. You ignore his constant bombardments of gifts and love letters thinking them to be jokes at your expense. Why would he want you, when the princess, the jewel of the city, has asked for his hand three times over? He practically goes mad with rage when he finds out you're arranged to be married to someone else. You accept being betrothed to another, yet you won't take him?

Arranged Husband! Diluc who you're weary of. Your father assured you that he was the most suitable marriage candidate for your family that was running low on funds, and he always seemed disinterested, almost scared of you. You're wed to him a mere three months after meeting him and with only two letters exchanged between the two of you. Moved into an unfamiliar palace, you try to wander the halls as normal, while avoiding your also unwilling husband. Until you stumble upon a room with a door slightly ajar. Your husband stands in it, surrounded by portraits of you on the wall that you never posed for, underwear and garments that had gone missing, and your bed linens from the night before. It begs the question, who did you marry?

I'm so sorry...I've been reading A LOT of reincarnated as a villainess manwhas...

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most. 

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes. 

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ���really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks. 

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth. 

it’s beautiful. 

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded. 

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere. 

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again. 

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling. 

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.” 

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face. 

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips. 

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs. 

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!” 

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there. 

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot. 

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.” 

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word. 

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology. 

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown. 

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again. 

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it. 

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.” 

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?” 

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.” 

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.” 

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow. 

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice. 

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter. 

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself. 

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest. 

he hopes it never goes away.

[tiramizuloz]

asking genshin men if you can wrap a bow around it

content: fluff ig, just goofy stuff, kys jokes, suggestive

pairing: various genshin men x gn(?)reader

Scaramouche 𝜗𝜚

Kazuha 𝜗𝜚

Xiao 𝜗𝜚

Childe 𝜗𝜚

Alhaitham 𝜗𝜚

© tiramizuloz all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

[apollowhoo]

could you pleasee do a gravity falls one shot?

so basically Bill Cipher meets the youngest Pines member but they're like 3-4 years old. And basically Bill doesn't know how to react, he's all confused but also in awe. Make it fluff and i know it's going to be hard to write this as canon Bill Cipher so you can ignore if you want <33

Bill Cipher x Child!Reader (PLATONIC)

The forest surroundcing the Mystery Shack was quiet. Somewhere between dimensions, floating lazily, was Bill Cipher, his single eye half-lidded with boredom. His typical schemes to cause chaos were on hold, and for once, he was simply… existing.

That’s when he heard it—a soft giggle, light as a feather. Bill’s eye snapped open, immediately. There, standing among the wildflowers, was a small figure with messy hair, chubby cheeks, and a bright, curious gaze.

The youngest member of the Pines family.

His eye narrows slightly. A little kid, no older than three or four, was staring right up at him. Her tiny hands gripping a stuffed animal that seemed to be some kind of hybrid between a cat and a duck—perfectly nonsensical, just the way Bill liked things.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Bill floated closer, his voice carrying its usual sarcasm. “A little ankle-biter out all alone? Shouldn’t you be with your oh-so-boring family?”

The girl tilted her head, eyes wide and sparkling with the kind of innocence Bill found really weird. She didn't seemed scared. She suddenly reaches out, poking Bill with a tiny finger in pure curiosity.

Bill’s eye widened a little in surprise. Most people who encountered him would either scream, run, or try to strike some ridiculous bargain. But this little human? She just poked him like he was some new toy.

“Hey, hey! Hands off the merchandise!” Bill exclaimed. He wondered, why wasn’t she afraid? Why wasn’t she running? And why, in all his chaotic glory, did he find this child so… interesting?

The child giggled again, a bubbly sound that seemed to echo in Bill’s mind. She pointed at him with her free hand, her other continuing to clutching her stuffed toy close.

“Triangle!” she declared proudly, their voice high-pitched and filled with wonder.

Bill let out a bark of laughter, genuinely amused. “Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t you? That’s right, kiddo. I’m a triangle, the best triangle you’ll ever meet. Got any other shapes in that little brain of yours?”

The kid smiled. They started babbling, half-formed words about god know what, pointing excitedly as if expecting Bill to just understand them. The demon was used to others feeling fear, but this… this innocent curiosity was something else.

“Alright, kid, slow down,” Bill said. “You think I can just whip up stars and moons like a party trick? You’re talking to Bill Cipher, not some street magician.”

For the first time in… well, forever, Bill felt utterly out of his element. He could outsmart the smartest, scare the toughest, and twist anyone around his finger, but this kid? She just saw him entertainig.

Bill hovered beside them, his eye following them every move. He had cought a small, harmless ball of light, flickering in and out of existence.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while it lasts, kid,” Bill mumbled, though there was no more venom in his voice.

The girl just grinned, leaning her head against his triangular form as if he were just another friend, not a demon with a penchant for chaos. Bill let her, floating there quietly as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

For once, he wasn’t planning anything. No schemes, no deals, no manipulation. Just a strange, peaceful moment with a little human who saw him not as a threat .

And for reasons Bill couldn’t quite fathom, he didn’t mind it one bit.

[triptuckers]

the comfort of home - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Hii, I just finished watching both episodes of PJO and I wept as I beheld Sally's maternal love unfold on the screen, knowing it before hand from the books. Thus, I was pondering if you might entertain a request—a tale where a daughter of Hades (angsty) forges a close bond with Percy, and Sally, in her gracious warmth bless her soul, adopts her into their lives because, after all, they're nearly kin, entwined by the delicate threads of almost-cousinhood." Pairing:  percy jackson x hades!reader Summary:  after a typical day for a demigod, you just need a safe space to go Warnings:  mentions of fighting, injuries, blood, throwing up, swearing, angst Word count:  2k A/N: first of all anon are you a writer?????? bro those words..... pls write more !! thanks for your request, enjoy!

you're walking down the streets of new york city, feeling utterly miserable. you're soaked through because of the rain and you're hurt.

everyone knows that demigods don't exactly live a quiet life. especially kids from zeus, poseidon or hades. still, most of the times you're fighting for your life you're on a quest.

not simply on your way home.

but today was different. somehow you brought not one but all three of the furies down on you. you don't even know how, you weren't doing anything.

it was a tough fight, but you stood strong. you couldn't prevent the dozen little cuts that littered your body. you're bruised over and on top of that it started to rain, messing with your sight.

right now you're on your way to your foster home. but it's a slow journey. you're not sure you want to go there. and you're not sure how much the mist hides for them.

sometimes if you got home all bruised you told them you got in a fight. sometimes they didn't spare you a second glance.

you stop in the middle of the street. at this point you've been walking for so long you don't even notice the rain anymore.

you turn around, heading another way. there's one other place you could go. you're lost in thought, and most of the people don't pay you any attention. perks of living in new york, you guess. new yorkers just don't care.

when you get to the familiar building, you feel a sense of calm coming over you. somehow you always found yourself back here. as you walk up to the entrance, someone leaves just as you arrive, so you can slip in the door before it closes.

you walk the stairs slowly because of your injuries. every step hurts and takes tremendous effort.

when you finally get to the right floor and walk to the door, you just stand in front of it. you're fully aware you're dripping rainwater on the floor, but suddenly you can't bring yourself to knock.

why are you even here? you don't want to be a burden.

they've told you that you can always come over, no matter what. but it's late at night, it's raining outside, you're soaked.

you're standing there, debating wether or not to go in, when you hear a voice on the other side of the door.

the person is softly singing along to a song that's playing.

tears well up in your eyes as you recognise the song. you were the one to recommend it.

you raise your hand and knock on the door.

'coming!' says the voice.

moments later the door opens to reveal a woman.

her eyes briefly widen at the sight of you, scanning your body for injuries. then her eyes soften.

'oh, what happened to you, sweetheart?' says sally.

her gentle voice is what pushes you over the edge, breaking down in tears in front of her.

sally pulls you over the doorstep and closes the door. she pulls you into a hug, not caring that you're soaked.

you wrap your arms around her and cry. you let all of the anxiety rush out of you as sally rubs circles on your back and whispers soft words in your ear. you ignore your aching body and allow yourself to just be here in the moment.

after a while, sally pulls back and holds you at an arms length.

'I'm so sorry for dropping in like this, miss jackson.' you say softly.

'y/n, you know you're always welcome here. and I've told you to call me sally.' she says kindly.

you nod. 'is percy home?'

'he's out to the movies with grover. do you want me to ask him to come home?'

'no, he's out having fun. it's alright. could I just..'

'why don't you take a shower first, hm? I bet you're freezing.'

you sigh softly. that does sound good.

'yeah, alright.'

'you go take a shower, then I'll make tea and see if I can do something about that.'

she pointedly looks at the cut above your brow. you totally forgot that was there.

'I don't have any clothes.' you say softly.

'that's alright, just borrow some from percy. he won't mind.' says sally.

'thank you.'

you walk towards percy's room to get some clothes when sally calls your name, making you turn around again.

'you're not a burden, you know that right. we love having you over.' says sally.

you swallow back the new tears that threaten to fall. sometimes you forget she knows you so well.

'thanks.' you say, entering percy's room to get some clothes.

you pick a shirt, sweater and sweatpants form percy's closet before going into the bathroom.

you peel your soaked clothes from your body, hissing when you pull the fabric from your wounds.

turning on the water, you get in the shower, letting the water calm you down. you wash off all of the dried blood, dirt and sweat.

after drying off you put on percy's clothes, his scent surrounding you and comforting you.

you head back to the living room to find sally putting two steaming mugs on the table.

'we still got your favorite.' she says, sliding your mug towards you.

'thanks.'

'drink up, and tell me about today if you want. I'll see if we have some medical stuff left in the kitchen.'

you sigh, thinking back to today.

'I didn't even do anything.' you say. 'I was just walking down the road and I got this feeling I was being watched. I thought it wasn't a big deal but hey, demigod instinct, so I took a turn and went into an alley. sure enough, someone followed me.'

'someone or something?' says sally, returning with the first aid kit.

'someone at first. then the mist cleared and it was one of the furies.' you say. 'at that point I was just so done. I wasn't even on a quest so what the hell was she doing there?'

'how did you get away? you've fought a fury before, percy told me.' says sally, scooting her chair closer to you so she can clean the cut on your forehead.

'I have. it's okay if it's one. but then the other two showed up.' you sigh. 'at that point I was really annoyed. I think it was just annoyance that drove me at that point. they were clearly there because they were bored. they thought "hey smells like demigod, oh look it's the hades kid, let's mess with her."

'well, you're here now. you made it out.' says sally, finishing with the cut on your forehead.

'yeah. thanks again.' you say, sipping your tea.

'you don't have to keep thanking me.' says sally. 'you know you're always welcome here, you're practically family. I know you don't like your foster home. now, do you have any other wounds?'

you chuckle. 'only about two dozen little cuts and even more bruises. I've had worse, it's okay.' you say.

'it's never okay.' says sally. 'you and percy are way too young for this.'

you shrug. 'and yet we have to deal with it.' you say, rolling up your sleeves so sally can clean and bandage the cuts on your arms.

the next hour is spent by sally cleaning your wounds and bandaging you up as she tells you stories. you liked hearing her stories. ever since you first met her, it was one of your favorite things about her. she could tell stories in a way that felt like you were actually there, experiencing them.

just as she secures the last bandage in place, you briefly close your eyes, exhaustion getting to you.

'you can get some sleep, I'll tell percy when he gets home.' says sally.

'it's okay, I want to see him before I go to bed.' you say.

'alright, want to watch a movie of something?'

'movie sounds great.'

sally picks a movie while you sit down on the couch. it doesn't take long for you to doze off, even though you fight to stay awake. the fight with the furies was intense, so sally lets you sleep while she waits for percy to home home.

about halfway through the movie, the door to the apartment opens and percy enters.

'hey mom.' he says, taking off his shoes and jacket and dumping his bag near the door.

as he walks into the room, he notices a familiar sword leaning against the back of the couch. he frowns, he didn't know you were coming.

'is y/n here?' he says, walking over to his mom.

she nods, pointing to the couch.

percy looks over the back of the couch to find you fast asleep, wearing his clothes and your body littered in bandages and bruises.

'what happened?' says percy, walking around the couch.

'the three furies.' says sally. 'she didn't feel like going to her foster home.'

percy kneels before the couch, studying your face. he reaches out and traces one of the bruises on your cheek.

you stir awake from the movement, your eyes meeting percy's.

'hi.' you say softly.

'hey. you alright?' he says.

you nod. 'how was the movie?'

percy chuckles. 'it was good. you would have loved it. heard you got in a fight?'

'yeah. those damned furies.' you say. 'luckily your mom patched me up though.'

'you know my bed is more comfortable than the couch, right?' says percy.

you slowly sit up. 'I know. I wanted to stay awake til you got home.'

'and you did a great job at that.' says percy with a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

you hit him on the shoulder. 'you would have fallen asleep as well!'

sally watches the exchange with a smile on her face. moments like these make her especially happy you met percy.

'come on.' says percy, standing up and holding out his hand for you to take.

you take it and allow percy to gently pull you to your feet.

'thanks again sally.' you say as percy beings leading you to his bedroom to sleep in an actual bed.

'no need to thank me y/n. it's always good to have you around, even if it's like this.'

you and percy both say goodnight to her before entering percy's room.

'so, did you sugarcoat the story for my mom?' he says as you sit down on this bed.

'not really, I just didn't tell her all of the details.' you say.

percy raises an eyebrow at you. 'details like?'

'like how one of them punched me in the gut and I nearly threw up because of it.' you say.

'ew.' says percy, face scrunching up in disgust.

'you would have thrown up as well.' you say.

'but you managed to fend off all three furies on your own?' he says.

you nod, laying down. 'I think I bruised a rib, though. the rest is all small cuts and bruises. no broken bones this time. they looked like they were really fucking annoyed they could be bested by just one kid.' you say.

percy smiles, walking over to kiss your cheek, careful not to touch the wounds on your face. 'that's my girl.' he says.

'you got anything to do tomorrow?' you say, stifling a yawn.

'nope. we can spend the day here.' he says, walking over to the bed an laying down next to you.

'good.' you say. 'I just need to wash my clothes and clean my sword, and I should probably-' 'y/n.'

you look at percy.

'let's just relax tomorrow, okay? come on, you need sleep.'

you nod, moving closer to him.

as you're laying next to percy, feeling sleep get to you once more, you can't help but to feel a deep sense of gratitude.

sally didn't question why you showed up at her doorstep, but pulled you in her arms and sat with you to bandage your wounds and listen to your story.

percy listened to you as well and provided you familiar comfort you needed, telling you to relax.

you just know if something ever goes wrong, you're always welcome at the jackson household.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

[fatuismooches]

Every time recruits were assigned to a Harbinger, they were required to give a speech to the new agents. It was simply the way the Fatui worked - everyone must be made aware and dedicate themselves to the Tsaritsa's will through working for the Harbingers. The experience varied from Harbinger to Harbinger - if one were lucky enough to be with the Captain, they'd be filled with a sense of pride and bravery, if they had the misfortune of working for the Balladeer, well... one could guess how that goes.

Dottore's orientations were also anxiety-inducing, no doubt, considering the kind of reputation he had. Most recruits prayed day and night not to be selected to work for him. It was a very popular rumor about how easy it was to end up as a test subject of Dottore's. However, what many recruits quickly realized was that... working for Dottore was not as bad as many claimed.

Sure, some segments were definitely more difficult to work with than others, but it was actually preferable to working for certain other Harbingers. Just continue to produce results, and you'll be fine. Surprisingly, there were a sizeable amount of agents who adored Dottore. They would rave about him at any given opportunity to anyone who was willing to listen, and that didn't even include their signature handbook. It was also said that if you truly impressed him, he wasn't picky about rewarding you. Unfortunately for new recruits, they were still unaware of this and were left to shiver with their hearts in their throats, awaiting their impending doom.

Even worse for those poor souls, was that a habit of the segments was that they were notoriously late to these meetings, diving deep into their research and discarding it until the last minute. You learned this through idle conversation with one such segment, Beta, who especially despised this baptism.

"So... you just stood there and gave a speech to them?" You couldn't help but find the idea very funny, considering the kind of man he was. "What are your speeches like? Are you motivational, Beta?" He scowled at your teasing and focused his frustration on his latest creation.

"I don't have the time to waste on foolish things."

"Isn't it a good thing to encourage your employees?"

"This is the Fatui. They know what's expected of them," Beta scoffed as if he hadn't turned certain agents into flying robots in the past.

"Aww, but it sounds fun! I would wanna talk to them like that," you sighed. Most of the time the agents would bow, stutter, and quickly make themselves scarce when they saw you. Certain ones would just stare at you in awe silently as if they couldn't believe their eyes, and then scribble something in their notepad. You were unsure of their motives.

"There's a reason why Prime has never attended one himself ever since he created his first segment. All of us fill up our schedules to avoid it," the segment grumbled. He was the one stuck with the duty today. You only hummed in amusement.

"So when is the next screening of new recruits?"

"Tomorrow morning. Hmm, Omega's turn this time too. He's best at these things, anyway." You smiled as you had a very good idea.

"I'm going to go!"

"Are you now? Have fun." Beta responded dryly. Now that he thought about it, if you were so eager, perhaps he should have brought you to do most of the speaking.

"I will. I'll get them to be the most motivated Fatui agents there is!"

—

For a small group of people, they were starting their mornings with possibly one of the most frightening experiences of their lives. It was only natural for them to whisper to each other, all huddled up.

"I wonder if the rumors about Lord Dottore are true. Is he going to dissect us if-"

"You know what I wonder? What segment of Lord Dottore we'll get assigned to. I heard-"

"He has segments???"

"Apparently, he cloned himself at different stages of his life, so we'll deal with numerous versions of him."

"... As soon as the time comes, I'm putting in a request to transfer out of here."

"And that will be your biggest mistake. Lord Dottore is far more generous than you lot make him out to be."

"Pardon?"

"Lord Dottore is quite frequently praised by many agents around here. You just haven't heard them yet. Furthermore, he'll always appreciate results, regardless of your actions." The Dottore defender passionately gripped his chest. The group looked unconvinced.

"Are you sure they weren't under duress or something...?"

"Well, I've met his spouse once too! And [Name] was as kind as-" The poor agent was interrupted by laughter.

"Spouse? The sun would sooner shine bright in Snezhnaya than Lord Dottore ever being married."

"Is he even capable of love?"

"It's not a lie. Many agents who work for our Lord know them! In fact, they-"

"Ahem! Attention everyone!" A voice sounded in front of the room, that was... definitely not Dottore's. There stood a person who was... definitely not Dottore either. The room went completely silent as they gazed upon your rather proud form.

"You all were expecting Dottore, but I, [Name], will start this thing off first!" The glint of your wedding ring became all too noticeable for the new recruits as your eyes scanned the crowd. "Oh, hey! You're that guy I gave directions to a while back! You really did transfer over, huh!" You gleefully waved to him as he scratched his head, in both embarrassment and honor, and the agents suddenly had a feeling that the man was not lying about Dottore's marital status.

"Anyway, I'm gonna ask you all the question I know you're all thinking about. You're absolutely terrified of Dottore, aren't you?!" You pointed at them while their throats were dry from the situation. After a few seconds, they glanced at each other before nodding awkwardly. You only chuckled as you puffed out your chest.

"Well, I'm going to erase all those fears right here, right now. As the person who knows him better than anyone, I can assure you he's a great Harbinger to work under! And to do that... I'm going to give you all a crash course on Dottore's segments! So go on, ask me anything and I shall deliver!" Your resounding confidence was met with blank stares, save for the new inductee into the fan club.

"Are they really Lord Dottore's lover?"

"Well, they have to be... no one can just walk around casually claiming to be married to him."

"I mean... if someone like Lord Dottore is able to fall in love, then he can't be too bad, right...? We should listen to them."

One by one the nervous agents asked you a variety of questions - how to deal with them, how to tell them apart, what to do if they were annoyed, a few quirks to look out for, the kind of work efficiency he valued, the kind of sweets they most favored when it came time to pacify them- the more you spoke, the more engaged the new recruits got. You were rather proud of your skills.

"And if that wasn't enough motivation for you, do it for him!" In the end, you pulled out your one and only pet, the strange blue fox creature who blinked at the crowd who was loudly clapping for some reason.

"You know, I feel a lot more confident about working here!"

"I told you all, you just didn't believe me," the one fan said, still over the moon. But even amidst the commotion, a pair of shoes neatly echoed throughout the room, causing everyone to nearly fall silent at his presence.

"Oh... that's Lord Omega, right? His mask is black." Said agent got elbowed by another for speaking, as they all bowed lowly in respect. The segment was more interested in what you were doing here.

"... [Name], what exactly is the meaning of this?" The segment studied you carefully - despite your sweet smile, he didn't exactly have the best feeling about this.

"I gave them a speech of course! You need to motivate them more, you know? For the results you love so much! I just decided to do your job for you." Your lover stared at you and then turned his attention to the group who were standing stiffly.

"Is that so?"

"Y-Yes, Lord Dottore."

"Then you are all dismissed." The group blinked before quickly shuffling out of the room, mostly in awe at how casually you spoke to the Harbinger. You really were married...

"Just trust me Omega, those guys will be some of your most hardworking agents!" Omega looked at you thoughtfully - their demeanor did seem much better than when he spoke. But he still had a lingering thought that bothered him.

"[Name], you didn't tell them anything potentially... inappropriate, did you?"

"Inappropriate? O-Oh, of course not, Omega. I merely boosted their spirits into working for you!" You smiled, ignoring how his gaze was boring into you.

"That's all?"

"Yes, that's all!"

"..."

"..."

"Well, actually, I-I may have told them about the sweets thing again- hey- don't get closer!"

[moonselune]

BG3 Crew reacting to runaway parent trying to get back in your child's life

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The quiet of the night was shattered by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jolted awake, heart pounding, as the noise continued with an almost frantic urgency. Glancing at the clock, you realized it was well past midnight. Your child, already asleep in their room, was oblivious to the commotion. You hurriedly dressed and made your way to the door, the unease in your chest growing with every step.

When you finally opened the door, your breath caught in your throat. There stood your child's absent father, a man whose presence had long been a source of pain and disappointment. His disheveled appearance and haggard expression were a stark contrast to the composed demeanor you remembered from the past.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s the middle of the night. My child is asleep.”

He pushed past you, ignoring your protest. “I’m here to see my child,” he said gruffly. “I’ve come to make things right.”

You stepped in his way, blocking his advance. “No. You don’t get to waltz back into their life whenever you please. You had your chance, and you squandered it. Now, you need to leave.”

His face reddened with anger, and he sneered at you. “So, you think you can just keep me away? You’re nothing but a petty little obstacle. It’s my right as a father to see my child.”

Before you could respond, you heard the heavy tread of footsteps behind you. Karlach, ever vigilant and protective, had come to investigate the commotion. Her presence was like a storm rolling in, radiating an aura of fierce, unyielding strength. Her eyes locked onto the intruder with a look that could melt steel. Karlach stepped forward, her voice low and menacing.

“You’re in no position to make demands, buddy” she said, her tone cold and dangerous. “This is a warning. Leave now, or you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of a veteran’s wrath.”

The father’s eyes widened in shock as he took in Karlach’s formidable presence. She was a force to be reckoned with, her imposing frame and battle-hardened demeanor making her a terrifying figure. He took an involuntary step back, clearly unnerved by her.

Karlach continued, her voice like gravel. “I fought in the Blood War. I’ve faced demons and horrors you can’t even imagine. Do you really think you want to test me now?”

His bravado crumbled under the weight of her words. He stared at Karlach, then at you, and finally, with a defeated sigh, he turned on his heel and stumbled away into the night, leaving you with a mix of relief and lingering anxiety.

You closed the door with a trembling hand, your heart still racing. The fear that had gripped you was slowly giving way to a profound sense of gratitude. Karlach’s fierce protection had ensured that your child remained safe from harm, and her presence had been a steadying force in a moment of distress. Turning to Karlach, you took a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with both relief and admiration. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Karlach’s expression softened, though her fierce demeanor remained. She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re welcome,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. “I’d do anything to keep both you and the little one safe. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of appreciation for her unwavering support. “I know,” you said softly. “And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. Truly.”

Karlach’s lips curled into a mile. “Well, then,” she said with a hint of her usual fire, “let’s make sure that anyone who tries to come near you both knows that they’ll have to go through me first.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her resolute tone, feeling the last of your tension dissolve. As you made your way back to your child’s room, Karlach followed close behind, her presence a comforting shield against the uncertainties of the night.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The night was calm and still, the kind that promised peaceful rest, but that illusion was abruptly shattered by the sound of frantic yelling. You jolted awake, heart pounding, and glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight. The cries and shouts came from your daughter’s room, and your immediate concern propelled you out of bed.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you shook Minthara awake. Her eyes snapped open, her expression shifting from drowsy confusion to alert determination quicker than light. Together, you raced down the hallway, the sounds of the confrontation growing louder with each step.

Bursting into your daughter’s room, you were met with a sight that filled you with dread. Your daughter, barely able to contain her fear and anger, stood her ground against her father, who had somehow managed to infiltrate the sanctuary of her room. His imposing figure loomed over her, and his presence was both unsettling and unwelcome.

“Leave me alone!” your daughter shouted, her small voice trembling but filled with determination. “I don’t want you here!”

Her father, a grizzled mercenary with a hardened demeanor, looked down at her with a mixture of annoyance and condescension.

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” he sneered. “I’m your father, and you will listen to me.”

As you and Minthara entered the room, your daughter’s eyes met yours, and she bolted towards you. You wrapped her in a comforting embrace, holding her tightly and whispering reassurances. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” you murmured. “I’m here.”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the intruder. Without a word, she strode purposefully towards him, her demeanor cold and menacing. With a swift, practiced motion, she grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there with a strength that left no room for argument. The mercenary struggled, but Minthara’s grip was unyielding. He attempted to boast about his exploits, his voice full of bravado.

“I’ve fought in countless battles,” he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. “I’ve taken lives, dealt with worse than you—”

Minthara interrupted him with a harsh, mocking laugh. “Please. You’re nothing can even compare to me,” she said, her voice laced with disdain.

Your daughter, still clinging to you, looked up with wide, fearful eyes. “Can you make him leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You looked over to Minthara and gave her a slight nod, the type that Minthara takes as nothing is off limits. Minthara glanced at your daughter with a reassuring nod, then turned her gaze back to the mercenary.

“You heard the child,” she said, her tone cold and final. “It’s time for you to leave.”

As the mercenary started to raise his voice again, Minthara’s patience snapped. With a swift, decisive blow, she knocked him out cold. His body slumped to the floor, and she turned to your daughter with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “I’ll deal with him.”

Your daughter’s face brightened with relief as she held onto you tightly, nodding her head eagerly at Minthara. Minthara gave you a curt nod before she dragged the unconscious mercenary outside, her expression a mixture of determination and satisfaction. As she left, you held your daughter close, whispering soothing words of comfort.

When Minthara returned, she found you and your daughter in your shared bed, your daughter nestled against you, her tiny frame trembling slightly from the recent ordeal. Without a word, Minthara climbed into bed beside you after, of course, washing off the grime from her... excursion. Your daughter, still shaken but comforted, immediately latched onto Minthara and snuggled into her, finding solace in her presence.

You watched as Minthara, despite her usually stoic demeanor, gently stroked your daughter’s hair, her expression softening as she comforted the child.

“There, there,” Minthara murmured softly. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

Your daughter looked up at Minthara, her eyes heavy with sleep but filled with trust. “Goodnight, Mother,” she whispered, before closing her eyes and curling up closer.

You smiled softly at the sight, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and warmth. Minthara’s actions had been more than protective; they had been a testament to her unwavering dedication and love for both you and your daughter. You reached over, careful not to disturb your daughter and took Minthara's hand, giving it a soft squeeze in thanks, forever grateful for her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

At home, Lae'zel had been adjusting to her role as caretaker, the initial discomfort giving way to a surprising degree of warmth. Your son, now peacefully napping in his room, was nestled under a soft blanket, completely unaware of the impending danger.

The tranquility of the house was abruptly shattered by a soft but deliberate creaking of the door. The estranged father of your child, driven by a mixture of unresolved feelings and a twisted sense of entitlement, had managed to break into your home unnoticed. His presence a dark shadow against the peaceful setting as he made his way to the child’s room.

With a furtive glance around to ensure no one was watching, he slipped inside. The sight of your sleeping son stirred a pang of something akin to remorse in his eyes, but it was quickly overridden by a sense of possession. He reached down and scooped up the toddler, cradling him in his arms. The action was abrupt and rough, causing your child to stir and awaken with a frightened whimper.

The sudden disturbance woke Lae'zel from her own moment of repose. Her heightened senses detected the commotion in the room, and her instincts immediately went on high alert. She could tell immediately that this was not your son's ordinairy fussing, she moved swiftly to the source of the noise, pushing open the door with a forceful shove. Her eyes widened in alarm as she saw the man holding your son against his chest.

Lae'zel’s expression hardened into a fierce scowl as she took in the situation. Her hand moved to the weapon at her side, and with a practiced flick, she drew it. The blade glinted ominously in the light.

“Put the child down!” she commanded, her voice a growl filled with righteous fury. The man’s eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and defiance.

“This is my son,” he declared with a scoff, his tone dripping with contempt. “I have every right to him.”

But the reality of the situation was starkly different. Your son, still half-asleep and disoriented, immediately began to fuss and whimper, reaching out with tiny, pleading hands towards Lae'zel. The distress in his voice was unmistakable as he called out, “Mama! Mama’zel!”

Seeing the child’s evident fear and his desperate need for Lae'zel, the warrior’s resolve hardened. She took a step forward, her weapon poised with deadly precision. “You are not taking him. He needs to be with someone who cares for him, that is not you.”

It seemed the father had suddenly realised that danger he was in now he was at the blade's end of a Githyanki silver sword. In a panic and with a final, reckless gesture of defiance, the man threw your son into the air. The sudden action was shocking, and Lae'zel’s heart raced as she watched in horror. Without a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her sword and leaped forward, catching your child with a protective embrace as he fell. Her fierce determination was evident as she cradled him close, her blade still held firmly in her other hand.

The man, seizing the opportunity bolted for the door. Lae'zel’s focus was on your son, and as she made sure he was safe, she allowed the man to escape. She did not let her guard down, but her priority was to protect the child, and the man’s escape was a calculated risk she was willing to take.

Outside, the commotion had drawn attention. As Lae'zel made her way to the front of the house, her eyes fell on the scene unfolding before her. You stood over the unconscious form of your estranged partner, your knuckles bruised and bloodied from the confrontation. There was relief in your expression as you looked up to see Lae'zel, your son safely and happily in her arms. Lae'zel approached you with a careful but determined stride, holding out your son to you.

“He is safe now,” she said, her voice steady but laced with concern. “He was frightened, but I kept him close.”

“Thank you, Lae'zel,” you said softly, your voice filled with emotion after pressing a kiss to Lae'zel's cheek “You saved him.”

Lae'zel nodded, her face a mix of weariness and satisfaction. “It was my duty,” she replied simply. “I will always protect him.”

You took your child into your arms, feeling a surge of relief and gratitude. As you held him tightly, Lae'zel’s eyes softened with a rare gentleness, she had faced a thousand horrors but nothing was as terrifying as the thought of your child, her son, getting hurt.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over the farm, where Shadowheart and your young daughter were enjoying a peaceful afternoon. The fields were alive with the joyful sounds of chirping birds and playful animals. Your daughter, her face alight with happiness, was darting around the farmyard, feeding the animals and laughing at their antics. Shadowheart, her demeanor relaxed and gentle, followed closely behind, occasionally helping with tasks and sharing in your daughter’s exuberant joy.

The scene was idyllic: cows mooed softly, chickens pecked at the ground, and your daughter’s gleeful giggles blended harmoniously with the sounds of the farm. Shadowheart’s protective nature shone through as she tended to the animals alongside your daughter, clearly enjoying the role of caretaker.

But this serene moment was abruptly interrupted when a familiar figure emerged from the edge of the farm. Your daughter’s father—who had been absent from her life—appeared with a look of determination on his face. His eyes scanned the farmyard until they landed on your daughter. Relief washed over his features as he strode forward, his expression a mix of desperation and authority.

“There you are!” he called out, his voice carrying across the open fields. “I’ve finally found you. Come here!”

Your daughter’s face went pale as she spotted her father. She immediately bolted behind Shadowheart, clutching at her skirts. Her small voice quivered as she looked up at Shadowheart with wide, frightened eyes. “Mama, make him go away! I don’t want him here!”

Shadowheart’s eyes narrowed, her protective instincts kicking in immediately. She placed herself between your daughter and her father, her stance firm and resolute.

“You need to leave,” Shadowheart said, her voice steady and commanding. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

Your daughter’s father scoffed, clearly irritated by the interruption. “Oh, come now. She’s my daughter. She needs to come with me, I want to spend time with her.”

"She doesn't need to do anything." Shadowheart’s jaw tightened. “No. I will not allow you to upset her further. Leave, now.”

The father’s eyes flickered with annoyance, but he disregarded Shadowheart’s command. He took a step closer, his intent clear—he was determined to take your daughter regardless of Shadowheart’s interference. As he reached out a hand toward your daughter, Shadowheart’s reaction was swift and decisive.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Shadowheart drew upon her time spent as a Sharran. Her movements were a blur as she executed a series of precise and powerful strikes. Your daughter’s father barely had time to react before he was struck down, collapsing to the ground in a heap, unconscious and defeated. Face first in the mud.

Shadowheart stood over him, her breath coming in measured gasps as she surveyed the scene. She turned to your daughter, concern etched across her face.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently. Your daughter’s initial shock quickly transformed into awe. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Shadowheart, a mixture of admiration and excitement shining through her fear.

“That was amazing!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. “Can you teach me how to do that? Please? Pretty please!”

Shadowheart’s concern softened into a smile as she saw the spark of admiration in your daughter’s eyes. She knelt down, placing a comforting hand on your daughter’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly. “But learning how to fight and defend yourself is not something to take lightly. You have to practice lots and lots.”

"I don't care!" Your daughter’s enthusiasm remained undiminished. “I want to learn! I want to be strong like you! That was so cool!”

Shadowheart’s smile broadened, touched by the girl’s resolve. "Okay, okay, little fighter, let's go ask your mother about it and see what she says, okay?"

Your daughter sprinted off, bellowing your name, the previous incident seemingly forgotton. Shadowheart couldn't help but chuckle and then sighed as she looked at the father's crumpled form. With a hand on her hip and a snap of her fingers a portal opened. Shadowheart was sure that he would have a much better time in the neighbouring farm's fertiliser tub. Maneure was so good for crops this time of year.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Your daughter’s school fete was abuzz with excitement, the large open park filled with the chatter and laughter of parents and children. The annual talent show was in full swing, and each performance was met with enthusiastic applause. It was a time for the students to showcase how far their wizarding skills had developed. You couldn't tell who was more excited, your daughter or Gale.

You and Gale stood near the front, eagerly awaiting your daughter's turn to showcase her magic. The weeks of practice and preparation between Gale and your daughter had culminated in this moment, and both of you were a mix of pride and nerves.

Gale was showing signs of his own anxiety—fidgeting slightly, his eyes darting to the stage and then back to you. It was clear that he cared deeply about how this would go for your daughter.

Just as your daughter's name was called out to get ready to go on, she began making her way to the backstage area to prepare, until her face suddenly fell. You turned to see what had caused the abrupt change in her demeanor, and then you heard the unmistakable voice of your ex—her estranged father—cutting through the ambient noise of the school fete.

“Hey there, little one! Where’s my hug?” he called out, his tone laced with a mixture of familiarity and condescension.

Your daughter hesitated, her small frame visibly tensing as she reluctantly approached her father. With a forced, apprehensive smile, she gave him a quick hug. The look of discomfort on her face was evident as she pulled away, and with a quick look of worry to you, she darted to the backstage entrance where she began to prepare to perform with the other kids.

Confident your daughter was out of sight and earshot, you felt a surge of irritation and disbelief. You hadn’t expected him to show up here, let alone disrupt your daughter’s big moment. Turning sharply, you confronted your ex, your voice edged with frustration.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, crossing your arms. “Why show up now?”

His face remained a mask of faux innocence. “I’m here to support my little girl, of course,” he replied with a shrug, but his eyes betrayed a glint of something darker as he glanced at Gale. “Had to make sure that new boytoy of yours isn’t a bad influence.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you were about to launch into an argument when your daughter's teacher approached, her expression soft but serious.

“Excuse me,” the teacher said, addressing you and Gale. “Your daughter has developed a case of stage fright, bless her, and has asked for her father.”

Your ex immediately stepped forward, a smirk spreading across his face as he assumed the teacher was referring to him. But the teacher’s next words made it clear they were talking about Gale.

“I'm sorry, but I’m actually referring to Mr. Dekarios,” the teacher clarified, gesturing toward Gale. Gale’s face brightened, and flashed your ex a smug smirk, only for it to fade into concern as he followed the teacher, catching sight of your teary daughter waiting nervously backstage. She ran over to him, looking up at him with a mix of hope and distress.

“Gale!” she said, her voice trembling, “I need your magic!"

Gale knelt down to her level, his expression softening. “Sweetheart, I can’t help you with the performance,” he said gently. "I promise you will do amazing, you've been working so hard and-"

"-No, I need your magic to make him disappear!" Your daughter sniffed and Gale realised what she had meant.

"Ah, well that I can do," Gale whispered with a smile and your daughter’s face lit up with relief, and she threw herself into a hug with Gale.

“Thank you, dad!” she said, her voice now full of gratitude, those tears gone and a smile plastered on her face. With a renewed sense of determination, she ran back to the stage, her earlier anxiety replaced by a brighter, more confident demeanor. Gale watched her go, then returned to your side, where you will still arguing with your ex in hushed whispers. At the sight of him, you both quietened, keen to hear what had happened.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “But there's something I have to do.”

With a subtle flick of his fingers and a murmur of arcane words, Gale cast a spell. Moments later, your ex’s face appeared puzzled as he was enveloped in a shimmering aura, his protestations fading as he was magically transported away. Gale turned back to you, his face reflecting a blend of satisfaction and affection.

“One less distraction for her,” he said, giving you a warm smile.

You felt a surge of gratitude and admiration for Gale and without warning grabbed him, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I adore you, you know that".

"Not as much as I adore the both you," Gale assured you, “Now, let’s enjoy the show.”

You both watched your daughter take the stage with a confident smile was a moment of pure joy, made even more meaningful by the support and love surrounding her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The schoolyard buzzed with the end-of-day excitement as children and parents alike gathered to leave. Astarion, impeccably dressed as always, stood near the gate, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with the kind of aloof interest one might expect from him. Today, he was tasked with picking up your daughter from school as you ran an errand.

As Astarion waited, he noticed a commotion near the gate. Your daughter, spotting him through the throng of people, waved frantically and beckoned him over with an urgency that immediately set off alarm bells in his mind. His instincts, honed by years of surviving in a dangerous world, quickly jumped to the worst-case scenario.

With an exaggerated flourish, Astarion swept toward the commotion, his cloak billowing behind him like a cape of night. He shoved parents and children alike out of the way, his expression shifting to one of fierce determination as he approached the source of the disturbance.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Astarion demanded, his voice carrying an edge of authority that was both commanding and melodramatic. His gaze fell upon a man who was arguing heatedly with one of the teachers. The man’s expression was a mix of frustration and entitlement.

The teacher looked visibly relieved upon seeing Astarion. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here! This man claims to be your daughter’s father, but he’s not on the approved pickup list.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed in disdain as he took in the man’s appearance. “Really now? And just who do you think you are, daring to disrupt the well-being of a child? My child.”

The estranged father, clearly unperturbed by Astarion's theatrics, argued back. “I will have you know that, I am her father! And I have every right to pick her up.”

Before Astarion could retort, your daughter bounded over, her face lighting up with joy at the sight of her Papa. She launched herself into Astarion’s arms, who caught her with practiced ease.

Astarion beamed down at her and gave her a subtle wink before pretending to hear something you had said and then looked on to growing crowd with feigned surprise and distress. “Oh dearest, what have you told me, my little one? Did he say he was going to do something terrible?”

Your daughter, catching onto the game, nodded vigorously, a playful glint in her eyes. “Yes, Papa! He said he was going to kidnap me!”

Astarion’s eyes widened in exaggerated horror, and he tightened his hold on your daughter, pulling her close to his chest. There was a concerned murmur among the other parents as they looked at your daughter's father accusingly. “Oh, my gods! We mustn’t let him near you then. Neither should you fellow parents! Come, we’ll have to leave immediately!"

The father, growing increasingly agitated, protested loudly. “This is absurd! I’m her father! I am not trying to kidnap her.”

With a smirk, Astarion began walking away, your daughter securely perched on his hip. However the father began to follow the two of them. At this Astarion called out over his shoulder with a dramatic flair, “Help! Someone call the authorities! This man is stalking us!”

Your daughter, struggling to suppress a giggle, chimed in, her voice a high-pitched wail. “He’s following us! Help!”

Astarion shot her a playful but stern look. “Shush, darling. We mustn’t blow our cover!”

Despite her best efforts, your daughter couldn’t entirely suppress her laughter, and Astarion had to shush her with a gentle but firm hand on her mouth.

As they made their way towards the school gate, Flaming Fist had arrived, drawn in by the commotion. They quickly assessed the situation, and the paretns quickly took Astarion's side. He was the one afterall who would pick her up from school, he was the one who would begrudgingly sew the costumes for the school play - even when no one asked him to. He was the one your daughter called papa, not this stranger.

Astarion, still holding your daughter close, offered a graceful nod to the Flaming Fist as they dealt with the situation. With the father now in custody, Astarion made a clean getaway, carrying your daughter away from the scene. Once they were safely out of the school’s vicinity, Astarion finally allowed himself a genuine smile as he set your daughter back down on your feet. “Well, that went rather splendidly, didn’t it?”

Your daughter looked up at him with adoration, her earlier anxiety completely forgotten. “Thank you, Papa!”

Astarion’s expression softened as he looked at her, . “You’re welcome, my dear. Just remember, I’ll always be here to keep you safe.”

As they walked hand in hand away from the school, the sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, a perfect backdrop for a day’s adventure turned into a cherished memory.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of spices and simmering sauce as you and Wyll busied yourselves preparing dinner. Your son sat at the kitchen table, deeply engrossed in his coloring book, his small tongue sticking out in concentration. The evening was shaping up to be a peaceful, if ordinary, family affair.

The pleasant hum of conversation and the clinking of pots and pans were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Before anyone could move, the door swung open, and your ex, carrying an impressive stack of brightly wrapped presents, barged into the kitchen. His arrival was as abrupt as it was unwelcome, and his presence brought a palpable tension into the room. You braced yourself, a tight smile forced onto your face as you faced him.

"What are you doing here?" you asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep your voice steady. The birthday for your son had been last month, and you had hoped that was the last of these unscheduled visits.

“Better late than never,” your ex replied with a nonchalant shrug, as if the delay of several weeks was an afterthought.

Wyll, standing by the stove, appeared taken aback but quickly regained his composure. He extended a hand, offering a polite greeting. “Hello, I’m Wyll. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Your ex ignored Wyll’s outstretched hand completely, his focus solely on your son, who looked up from his coloring with a mix of curiosity and confusion. "Hey little man look what I've got for you! From your good ol' papa!"

“Thanks for the gifts,” your son said, his small voice full of genuine appreciation. “But I have a new dad now.”

Wyll’s face brightened with a mix of pride and relief and he placed a proud hand on your son's shoulder. “That’s right!... I’m his new dad now.”

Your ex’s face darkened, and he tensed visibly. “Wyll isn’t your real dad, kid. I’m your real dad.”

Your son, still focused on his coloring, paused to think. “Nope, Wyll is my dad. He picks me up from school, reads me bedtime stories, and he loves me. That’s what a dad does.”

Your ex’s face flushed with anger, and he started to call your son ungrateful. However, before things could escalate further, Wyll stepped in, his tone firm but calm.

“Let’s settle this outside,” Wyll proposed, his expression resolute.

Your ex, who was taller and bulkier than Wyll, agreed with a snort of disdain. You watched with a mix of apprehension and curiosity as Wyll winked at you before stepping outside with your ex.

You followed them to the door, your heart racing as you anticipated the confrontation. As the door closed behind them, you heard a sudden, odd sound—a poof of magic followed by the unmistakable bleating of a sheep.

Confused, you stepped outside to see Wyll standing there, looking smug and decidedly pleased, while your ex was transformed into a sheep, bleating in protest. Wyll turned to you with a grin, clearly proud of his handiwork.

“I knew I held onto that polymorph scroll for a reason,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your tension dissolving into mirth. “What am I supposed to do with a sheep now?”

Wyll’s grin widened. “Well, you could always sell him to a butcher, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous.”

Your laughter rang out freely now, the absurdity of the situation breaking through any lingering stress. The evening’s peace was restored, and as Wyll and the transformed sheep made their way inside, you felt a renewed sense of warmth and relief. The family dinner would go on as planned, now with one less complication and a story for the ages.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. You and your son had spent a pleasant day foraging among the underbrush. Your son, his spirit as free as the woodland creatures around him, had been frequently shifting in and out of his wildshape, delighting in the thrill of his magical transformations. You watched with a fond smile as he scampered around, shifting effortlessly between human and animal forms, the laughter and joy in his eyes brightening the entire forest.

As you crouched to inspect a patch of herbs, the distant sound of wheels on a forest path reached your ears. Your heart skipped a beat, a gnawing sense of unease creeping up your spine. The sound grew louder, and you recognized the unmistakable clatter of a carriage—a carriage that seemed all too familiar. Your pulse quickened as you straightened and scanned the surrounding trees.

You spotted the carriage as it emerged from a narrow forest trail, its ornate design and gilded trimmings unmistakable. The insignia on the side confirmed your worst fear: it was indeed from your ex’s noble family. The wheels crunched over the fallen leaves, and you felt a cold wave of apprehension wash over you.

With a determined, but calm demeanor, you called out to your son. "Sweetheart, you need to go back to the grove right now. Run to Halsin and stay with him, okay? Mama has someone she needs to talk to."

Your son’s face, still flushed from his wildshaping fun, looked up at you with wide, uncertain eyes. "Mama, what’s wrong?"

"Just go quickly," you urged, kneeling to meet his gaze. "I’ll explain later. Go, now."

Hesitantly, he nodded and bolted down the forest path, his small figure quickly disappearing among the trees. As your son sprinted, his tiny feet pounding against the earth, the distant sound of the carriage faded into the background. The urgency in his heart spurred him on faster, each step propelled by a mix of fear and determination. His breath came in quick gasps, the forest blurring by as he made his way back to the grove.

The grove came into view, and your son’s eyes scanned the area frantically. He spotted Halsin, who was tending to a small group of the squirrels, and ran up to him, his face flushed and eyes wide with panic.

“Papa! Papa!” your son called out, his voice trembling as he urged himself forward. “Mama needs help! My evil papa is here!”

Halsin’s expression shifted from calm to concerned in an instant. He dropped what he was doing and knelt down to your son’s level, his eyes searching your son's face. “What happened? Where is your mother?”

Your son, barely able to contain his anxiety or catch his breath, explained hurriedly. “This big carriage came, and-and Mama told me to run back here and-and she said she needed to talk to someone, but-but I know it’s my evil papa who’s come. 'Cause I only see Mama that upset when- when he’s around.”

"Take a breath, little one, it will be okay. Stay here and stay safe, go play with the other children” he instructed firmly, giving your son's shoulders a squeeze. “I’ll go see what’s going on.”

“No!” your son protested, his small fists clenched. “I’m coming with you!”

And as if to make a point you son clung onto Halsin's leg, Halsin looked down at him with uncertainty, he knew he would get an earful from you later, but your son really cared. Your son’s determination had won out. Halsin let out a sigh and nodded. “Very well. Hold on tight.”

Meanwhile, you continued to argue with your ex.

"So, here you are," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "I must say, I didn't expect to find you in such... rustic surroundings."

You squared your shoulders, fighting back the rising tide of frustration. "What are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath.

A haughty smile curled on your ex’s lips. "My family is pressing me for an heir. The pressure is mounting, and I’ve come to collect my son. It’s time he fulfilled his role in our family’s legacy."

The words felt like a physical blow, each syllable carrying the weight of his disregard for your family and your son's well-being. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. "You can’t just waltz in here and demand him like he’s some sort of accessory. You’ve been absent for years. You have no right to claim him now."

Your ex’s gaze hardened. "I have every right. I am his father, after all."

"You have no understanding of what it means to be a parent," you said sharply, taking a step closer. "You think you can just come and take him after all this time? You’ve done nothing but make his life more difficult."

Your ex’s face twisted into a sneer. "And you’ve done a remarkable job of corrupting him with your… unconventional lifestyle."

The words stung, but you refused to let them show. You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "If you think you can just come in and take him away, you’re mistaken. He has a family here who loves him and a home where he belongs."

Your ex’s face twisted with disdain. "You think your little forest dwelling and its inhabitants can replace what I can offer him? He needs to be in a proper environment, one befitting his heritage."

The sharpness of his words cut through you, but before you could respond, the situation took a dramatic turn. The footmen who had been idly standing by suddenly turned aggressive, encircling you with threatening movements. Just as you prepared to defend yourself, a small, but fierce bear cub you recognised skidded into the clearing. It growled and snapped at the footmen, causing them to flinch and hesitate.

"It's only a cub! Kill the little beastie!" your ex barked, his arrogance masking his growing anxiety. He turned to retreat, but was abruptly met with a much larger, imposing figure.

A massive grizzly bear roared ferociously in your ex’s face, its powerful form blocking his escape route. The footmen, their bravery crumbling in the face of the beast, fled into the forest with cries of terror, leaving your ex isolated and vulnerable.

You let out a relieved laugh as you scooped your son up in your arms. He had shifted back to his human form, his face alight with mischievous joy.

"You’re safe now," you murmured, holding him close as he giggled.

The massive bear continued to roar, rising up on its hind legs in an intimidating display. Your ex, panicked and covering his face, braced himself for an attack that never came. Instead, the bear suddenly shimmered with a golden light and, in a swirl of magic, Halsin emerged from the transformation, his human form standing tall and resolute. His stance, however, was no less aggressive. Halsin’s eyes locked onto your ex with a steely, unyielding glare.

“You’re not welcome here,” Halsin’s voice rumbled, each word measured and threatening. “You are not taking my son. I suggest you leave before something unfortunate happens.”

Your ex, shaking with a mix of fear and anger, attempted to regain his composure. “This is outrageous! I have every right to take him. I am his father!”

Halsin stepped closer, his presence radiating a potent blend of authority and menace. “You have no right to disrupt his life after being absent for so long. He is my son, and you are trying to take him from his home, from the family who loves and cares for him. You have no claim here.”

Your ex’s bravado faltered as he looked around at the animals—deer, wolves, and other woodland creatures—gathering once more, their eyes fixed on him with a watchful, protective intensity. The forest itself seemed to close in around him, adding to his sense of encroaching dread.

“You can’t do this!” he shouted, his voice rising with desperation. “This is a matter of family legacy and honor!”

Halsin’s gaze remained unyielding. “No, this is a matter of what is best for my son. You are an intruder here, and if you do not leave immediately, you will face consequences beyond your understanding.”

Your ex’s gaze darted around, his composure crumbling as he realized the gravity of his situation. The animals’ eyes glinted with an unspoken threat, and Halsin’s unrelenting stance made it clear that he would not back down. With a final, resentful glare, your ex backed away, his movements hurried and clumsy.

“This isn’t over,” he spat, before turning and stumbling back to his carriage. He climbed in hastily, his footmen still cowering in the forest, and the carriage lurched away with a trail of dust.

As the carriage disappeared from view, Halsin let out a long, slow breath, his form relaxing as the immediate threat passed. He turned to you and your son, his face softening with concern.

“Are you both alright?” he asked, his voice gentle now, though still laced with the remnants of his earlier fury.

You nodded, your heart still racing but calming with each passing moment. “We’re okay. Thank you, Halsin. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Halsin reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “No need to thank me. We are a family, and we protect each other.”

As you all made your way back through the forest, the weight of the day’s events began to lift, replaced by a profound sense of relief and solidarity.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

The market was a bustling tapestry of colors and sounds, a vibrant mosaic of stalls and vendors peddling everything from fresh produce to handcrafted trinkets. You, Rolan, and your young toddler son meandered through the market, enjoying the lively atmosphere. Your son, perched on Rolan’s shoulders, was giggling and pointing at the various sights and sounds, his eyes wide with wonder.

Rolan had a firm but gentle hand on your child’s legs, ensuring he was secure while still allowing him to enjoy the view. You walked beside them, occasionally glancing at the stalls, picking out small treats or intriguing items. The air was filled with the delightful aroma of fresh bread and spices, mingling with the cheerful chatter of vendors and patrons.

As you approached a stall selling brightly colored fabrics, a familiar yet unwelcome figure emerged from the crowd. It was your ex, looking disheveled and distraught. His clothes were tattered, and he seemed to be making his way through the market with an air of desperation.

“Please!” he cried out, dropping to his knees in front of you. His voice was choked with emotion, a stark contrast to the authoritative tone he had once used. “Please, I’m begging you. I want to be a part of our child’s life. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m ready to make things right. Just give me a chance.”

You stopped in your tracks, your heart hardening at the sight of him. The memories of his absence and the pain he had caused surged up, making it difficult to maintain your composure. You took a deep breath, summoning all the resolve you could muster.

“You had your chance when our child was born,” you said firmly. “You walked away, leaving us behind. You don’t get to waltz back into our lives now just because it suits you.”

Rolan, standing close by with your son, nodded in agreement. His face was set in a serious expression, his eyes reflecting the protective nature he had come to embody.

“You had no part in his life before,” Rolan said, his voice calm but unwavering. “And you’ve shown no effort to make amends until now. It’s not fair to our family to let you back in on a whim.”

Your ex’s face twisted with a mix of desperation and anger. “I’ve changed,” he pleaded, his voice rising with frustration. “You can’t just shut me out like this. I’m his father!”

Without warning, he lunged towards you, a sudden movement fueled by desperation. The instinct to protect surged within Rolan. His eyes narrowed, and with a decisive flick of his wrist, he cast a thunderblast. The crackling burst of energy erupted with a deafening roar, sending your ex stumbling backward.

Your ex’s eyes widened in shock and fear as the spell hurled him through the air. He landed with a splash in the nearby fountain, the water erupting around him in a frothy surge. The sight of him floundering in the fountain, soaked and sputtering, was both dramatic and almost comical.

Amid the chaos, your toddler, who had been watching the scene unfold from Rolan’s shoulders, burst into fits of uncontrollable giggles. His laughter was a bright, musical sound that cut through the tense atmosphere, his tiny hands clapping with glee at the sight of the man he had only heard about but never seen in such a state.

You couldn’t help but smile at your son’s reaction, the tension of the moment dissolving into a shared moment of levity. Rolan, still standing tall and composed, watched as your ex scrambled out of the fountain, his dignity as drenched as his clothes. The crowd that had gathered looked on with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, whispering among themselves.

With a final glance at your ex, who was now pulling himself out of the fountain with an air of defeat, you turned to leave.

You and Rolan guided your son away from the market, his laughter still echoing in the cool evening air. The market’s lively bustle continued around you, but you walked with a renewed sense of security and unity.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The weight of the day’s stress seemed to settle heavily on your shoulders as you sat in the study of the grand estate, trying to focus on the papers spread before you. Your ex had reappeared in your life with a demand that rattled you to your core: he wanted to see your daughter more often, and, worse, he was insistent on having a greater role in her life. The mere thought of him attempting to insert himself into her world again filled you with a sense of dread and frustration.

Raphael, who had been surprisingly supportive of your emotional turmoil, took it upon himself to reassure you. Despite his usual aloofness, he had shown an unexpected level of concern. Yet, as you talked through your frustrations with him, you noticed a shift in his demeanor—a subtle, almost imperceptible pang of hurt hidden behind his devilish exterior. The notion of your daughter potentially calling another man "papa" seemed to strike a chord with him, even if he refused to vocalize it.

Of course he had to do something about it, somebody had to save your wretched little souls and why shouldn't it be the devil that loved you both?

One night as you held your daughter close to your chest, worst case scenarios tearing through your mind like a nightmare on repeat, Raphael took a seat necxt to you and placed a hand on your thigh.

“It's been dealt with, dearest,” Raphael said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “You needn’t worry about him any longer. He’s been… persuaded to leave you and your daughter alone.”

His words were confident, but you sensed an undercurrent of something more complex, though Raphael’s expression remained inscrutable. You chose not to press further, trusting that he had the situation in hand. Days passed, and true to Raphael’s word, your ex disappeared from the scene, making no further attempts to contact you or interfere in your life.

You couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of relief and unease. The problem had been resolved with unsettling speed, leaving you feeling as though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. One evening, as you and Raphael relaxed together, you finally broached the subject of your ex’s sudden disappearance.

“What exactly did you do to get him to leave us alone, my love?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, though a thread of curiosity laced your voice.

Raphael’s smirk was back in place, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. I made a deal with him.”

His casual response did little to quell your lingering curiosity. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

Raphael’s expression remained carefully neutral, his voice maintaining its smooth, unaffected tone. “Just a little something to ensure his cooperation. You know me, darling. I always have my methods.”

You couldn’t pry further, and Raphael’s words left you with more questions than answers. You did notice, however, that your ex was no longer a problem—an outcome that seemed almost too convenient.

Unbeknownst to you, the deal Raphael had struck was far from ordinary. Raphael had promised your ex immortality—a promise that seemed generous at first glance. In reality, Raphael’s “gift” trapped your ex’s soul in a form of eternal confinement, bound within the House of Hope—a luxurious prison within the estate.

In the House of Hope, your ex found himself a mere spectator, condemned to watch as Raphael embraced the role of father to your daughter. He was forced to endure the sight of Raphael’s effortless integration into your family, witnessing the tenderness and affection Raphael showed to your daughter, which he could never again claim for himself. The once-dreaded presence had become a ghostly observer, unable to interfere but ever-present in the periphery of your life.

Raphael’s decision, though cloaked in his usual bravado, was driven by a complex mix of feelings. The thought of another man being a father figure to your daughter stirred a pain he struggled to admit even to himself. Yet, by ensuring your ex’s permanent removal from your lives, Raphael had also managed to secure his own place in your family, albeit in a way you would never fully comprehend.

��── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Oof this was a big one, I have been binge watching dexter which definitely inspired this. I hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[worldstarz]

genshin men voicelines about you

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

pairing: gn!reader x kaeya / diluc / thoma / ayato / tartaglia / ayato / albedo / itto / kazuha (separate)

a/n: xiao bonus at the end! could not think of anything that wouldn’t feel contradictory to his other voicelines, but maybe i’ll make a part 2 with some other men i missed + eventually with the girls. sorry for anything ooc bc i haven’t played genshin in over a year 😛

cw: blood mention, itto is a loser

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

KAEYA

Oh, [name]? They’re many things, certainly. Dependable, attentive, easy on the eyes - ah, but I can't say too much. Is it so bad I want to keep something precious for myself?

DILUC

You’re asking about [name]? Why is that? …you’re curious about our relationship? I thought I made it obvious that they’re my partner—not for business, but romantically. I like to keep my personal life, well, personal, so forgive me for not divulging too much information.

THOMA

I was actually about to go see them right now! It’s hard for me to get some free time, but whenever I do, there’s nothing better than spending it with [name]! No matter how tired I am, I always feel recharged right away when they’re around, and then I can work even harder!

TARTAGLIA

Do you think [name] would like this necklace? Or maybe this bracelet? How about both? Maybe I should get these in different colors, too. Wait, I think I have enough mora on me to buy the entire stand—what? Why are you giving me that look?

AYATO

A day polluted by meetings with people I do not have the energy to care for, futile attempts at gaining power from my opponents, endless bartering… my, I hate to spoil the mood, but I do need a refresher. Pardon me as I send a servant to fetch my beloved [name] for me. I won’t be long. Once I see their face, we may go back to our discussion.

ALBEDO

[name]? Yes, they’re my partner. …Why do you look so surprised? I know I have said maintaining relationships is difficult, but they are very patient and willing to meet me halfway. I also cannot deny my attraction to them. It doesn’t affect my research whatsoever. Rather, their affections motivate me to research something new everyday for conversations with them. …Perhaps I am also meeting them halfway.

ITTO

What? You surprised a stone cold gang leader like me can score a hottie like [name]? Make this a lesson to never doubt Arataki “numero uno novio” Itto! Well, uh, I gotta admit, they are kinda outta my league… H-Hold on, why do you wanna know so much? You trying to find my weak spots or something? No… you couldn’t possibly… be trying to steal them from me?! Oho, you’re messing with the wrong gu- wait, get those beans away from me!!!!

KAZUHA

If I were to pick between losing my voice or losing [name], may the earth be granted my silence. If I must bleed out for thousands of years for even the slightest chance to lay beside them, may the blade of the sword be sharp. If granting them an eternal life of tranquility and happiness meant sacrificing my own life, my dying breath will be their name.

bonus:

XIAO

*…he blushed and teleported away.*

[odoraful]

𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒

⟡ content: diluc/wanderer/childe x gn!reader; sfw; modern au; established relationship; fluff !! ⟡ a/n: i was scouring pinterest looking the most fitting inspo rooms for each of them hehe

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DILUC ⟡

Your shared home is an old-fashioned but charming house with a tiled roof and a brick archway leading to the entrance of the door. Diluc has a good eye for style — all the furniture pieces you select together are warm and elegant, perfectly matching with the vintage style home.

He’s a bit of a craftsman, and when you moved in he custom built bookshelves just for you. Your house has traces of Diluc’s handiwork: a wooden tissue box cover, tile coasters, a ceramic chess set.

Being a peak acts of service man, if he notices that there’s something inconveniencing you that can be mended, he’ll try to find a way to fix it. That wooden chair that wobbled yesterday when you sat down on it? The next day, it’s miraculously levelled. Always struggling to find your keys before you leave the house? There are now little hooks on the wall where you can easily hang them. He doesn’t make a huge show of it, but you’ll always kiss him on the cheek and say that you should repay him with something.

“There’s no need. Seeing you happy is more than enough for me.” He replies, running a hand through his hair, the tips of his ears turning red.

The house is IMPECCABLY cleaned — the chores are shared out between the two of you, and the both of you work like a well-oiled machine. He’ll insist that you shouldn’t carry anything too heavy though! He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself :(

One of the things that Diluc wouldn’t ever trade is getting the chance to cuddle with you in the evening on the couch. He’ll let you play with his hair and try out different styles, comforted by the feeling of your fingers running through it.

Sometimes, he’ll come home late from work tired and perhaps a bit grumpy, but the sight of you will change his mood completely.

At the sound of jangling keys and the front door creaking shut, you rush out of the bathroom and down the stairs. 

“(Y/N), I’m home!” You hear Diluc’s voice call out to you.

The day had felt far too long for him, and with far too many headaches for him to deal with. The only thing that he looked forward to at the end of it all was to see you again. 

Hearing the patter of your slippers, he looks up. It takes everything within him to keep composed at your appearance. Having just gotten out of a hot shower, your cheeks were tinted pink, hair still damp and slicked. Diluc’s eyes trailed to your clothes, a matching pair of flannel shirt and shorts. He loosens his tie, suddenly finding his breath stuck in his throat. It baffled him how gorgeous you were even in pyjamas.

Wordlessly, he reaches towards you. You look down at his hands and see as they fasten the remaining top two buttons of your sleeping shirt. In your hurry to greet him at the door, you forgot to dress properly. 

“I can’t believe I missed that...” You sheepishly say, observing his hands as they linger on your shirt. Your senses told you something was off.  “Did you have troubles at work today?”

The worry in your eyes melts his heart. Of course you were the one to peer through him and know exactly how he was feeling. 

“A few clientele at the bar today were-” He sighs, still fidgeting with the fabric of your shirt, recalling the events of the day, “-difficult to manage to say the least.” He lifts his head to meet his gaze. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” 

Your arms instinctually wrap around him and he collapses into them. Tightening your embrace, he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Diluc, I just took a shower.” You say with a light giggle, trying to pull your hair away from his face.

He feels your breath close to his ear and he wishes he could have recorded that laugh for himself to hear it over and over again. 

“I could tell.” He breathes deeply. “Is this a new shampoo?”

“Well yes, but what I meant from that is that my hair is still wet!”

You feel him smile against you. “It doesn’t bother me. Just a few more seconds, please. I need to recharge.” 

WANDERER ⟡

You share an apartment together since you travel to and from the same university. Although you’re studying different degrees and have different schedules, you’ll both make an effort to spend time together at home during the weekdays. 

You and Wanderer leave little notes cheering each other on and stick them to the walls or the fridge before you leave, or sneak them into pencil cases or onto laptop screens. He has a small box on his desk where he collects all your notes, neatly folding them up to preserve them.

Wanderer enjoys having the home quite minimalist. Just the essentials will do, but the two of you do splurge a bit more on your study space —  the comfiest chairs, wide desks, tactile keyboards — anything to liven up having to do assignments all the time.  

When you’re feeling too tired or distracted from your own studies, you’ll walk over to his desk and try to sit on his lap while he works. He’ll attempt to exert some self-control and reject your wishes, but eventually gives in after seeing your pout.

“Just because you’re distracted doesn’t give you any right to bother me.” He grumbles, resting his chin on your head.

He warns you that if you do decide to put plants in the house, you are responsible for them. Little do you know that he’s secretly also invested in their health. On mornings when you’re in a rush and forget to water them, he’ll spritz them with your spray bottle thinking to himself: If you died (Y/N) would be devastated, so don’t even think about it.

His favourite room is the bedroom. It’s a place for both of you to escape the stresses of being a student and relax together.

The alarm clock beeps and you wiggle in bed, reaching over a hand to quickly silence it. Bright sun filters in through the curtains, its light diffusing into the room. 

You force your eyes open and sit up, your body bent over like a crooked branch. Movement beside you pulls your attention as Wanderer shifts in his sleep. You can’t deny how pretty he looks even at rest. His long lashes fanned out under closed eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath. His expression is that of pure peace. You know that’ll soon disappear when you both need to properly wake up and prepare for classes.

“Hey, it’s time to wake up,” you whisper, carefully coaxing him from slumber. 

Wanderer opens his bleary eyes ever so slightly, then immediately closes them. He mumbles something of refusal. You roll your eyes in resignation. When it comes to sleep, he acts like a child sometimes. You turn to get out of bed. 

Two arms wrap around your waist and yank you back. You stumble into the sheets with a yelp. Wanderer adjusts the blanket over you and pulls you closer to him with one hand. 

“Not yet.” His voice is low and scratchy, his words slurred. “Want more time in bed… with you.” 

You sigh softly, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair to detangle it. “You do this almost every morning. You’re never going to attend your lectures on time.”

He replies by nuzzling into your neck, and you hear nothing but his slow breaths. His peers would have sooner called identity fraud than believe the stony and scholarly Wanderer to be this clingy and affectionate in the morning. However, in the privacy of just you, it’s become easy for him to let down his guard. 

“Don’t try to get out of this by pretending to be asleep.” You say, deadpan.

There’s a stutter in his breathing as you catch his obvious charade. 

“Stop worrying. I’ll just watch the recording.” He finally responds. 

You realise in a fluster just how close your faces are, barely inches apart. As if sensing this, Wanderer opens his eyes once again, this time there’s a glint of mischief in them. 

He taps his forehead lightly against your own. “And besides, why would I want to spend my mornings in a noisy lecture hall when I can be with you in peace and quiet?”

CHILDE ⟡

You’ve been living together for a while now, and your home has transformed into what can only be described as organised chaos.

If Childe kept up with his interior designing eagerness, it would have been complete maximalism, but you were there to contain his excitement and still ensure your home was still practical. 

The two of you love collecting pillows, plushies and blankets, which adds even more to the cosiness! However, one day you tried to sit down on the couch and realised it was more pillows than actual seat space. In a fit of laughter, you and Childe ruled that you would rotate between different cushions every so often so you could get your couch back. 

Childe will still come home with flowers or sweets (sometimes both) as gifts for you on random nights. He’ll stand on the doorstep looking like a lovesick teenage boy asking his crush out on a date. Taking them from his hands, you’ll ask what the occasion is.

“Well, there isn’t a particular occasion.” He kisses you on the forehead. “Celebrating you should be an everyday thing.”

Board game nights are taken very seriously. You have a bookshelf filled with different types of them. Whether it’s a classic game of UNO or Jenga, or something a little more strategic, he's always hyper-competitive. You also have special punishments for if one of you loses, which are harmless but maybe a little embarrassing (One of his favourite punishments for you is ‘For the entire day tomorrow, Childe will only call (Y/N) by the cheesiest pet names’). 

MASSIVE kitchen since he loves to cook. He keeps a book of recipes from his mum and has since added new ones of his own that he has shared with you. 

“Could you come over here, baby?”

You follow your partner’s voice and the scent of something freshly baked into the kitchen.

Childe is standing behind the counter, his face in deep focus. He takes one of an array of heart-shaped biscuits and dips half of it in a bowl of chocolate before placing it on a lined baking sheet. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, exposing his forearms. His muscular build is sharply juxtaposed by the cream-coloured apron tied around himself, which has a little teddy bear embroidered in its centre. 

You approach the kitchen bench, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Are they ready yet? Can I try one?” You eagerly ask. 

“Not quite, I need help dipping the rest of these into chocolate.” He stretches his arms out in front of him, shaking the tension out of them.

“That being said,” he grins, extending a hand towards you across the kitchen bench as an offer, “would you do me the honour of being my baking assistant for a little?” 

Chuckling at his dramatics, you delicately place your hand in his like royalty. “I’d be delighted to help.”  

Childe guides you to his side and helps you put on your apron. As he ties the strings together, he relays the instructions to you. 

“You just need to dip half of the biscuit into chocolate, and then add some sprinkles on top before it sets.” He tightens the bow around your waist to secure it.

How hard could that be? You think, nodding along to his words.

Demoing an example, Childe deftly coats half of the biscuit. Angling it just right, the chocolate drips off and evens itself out, leaving a perfect covered half. After placing it on the tray and adding the finishing touch of sprinkles, he gestures for you to try it yourself.

You confidently take one biscuit and dunk it. 

“Ah!” 

Underestimating its consistency, when you lift the biscuit, the chocolate slowly spreads onto the other half of the heart and drips onto your fingers. You quickly place it onto the baking sheet. Childe stifles his laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“My one looks so much worse compared to yours…” you mutter, licking your fingers to remove the evidence of your unsuccessful attempt. 

Seeing the frown on your face, he gently bumps your shoulder with his own in encouragement. “Don’t say that! I think your one has a lot more charm.” He says, adding the sprinkles onto your heart. “I’ll run some extra baking classes with you to build up your skills, how does that sound?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[cendiqii]

finally I find you (so long apart)

[the-massive-simp]

Question! Of! The! Day! 🍑🍓

Which Genshin Men have the biggest dicks 👀

Ohhhh~ I like the way you think 👀 I left out hybrid/dragon/non human characters because it would have been unfair🤭 (and too obvius)

♡ Childe

He might be rather skinny and lean, but it doesn't match his dick at all. And I'd bet on the fact he wears those grey trousers just to make you stare at his dickprint all the time. And just like he gets you everything you look at in shops, he also gives it to you every time he catches you staring. Get ready to be sore. Big dick + the highest sex drive on this list is a dangerous combo.

♡ Diluc

The headcanon that he's beefy (leaning toward dad bod in the years to come😋) lives rent free in my head so of course his dick is going to be as thick as him. And it comes paired with the nicest breeder balls, so heavy and aching to fill you with his seed <3 It doesn't really matter to him if you can have his kids or not, he is going to stuff you full of his dick and cum. And his cock is just so big that it can reach so far inside of you, making sure none of his seed goes wasted, pumping it deep inside.

♡ Wriothesley

Biggest dick in this post. I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. He knows it, and always makes sure to tease you when you start whining about how he's "Too big" and "Won't fit". He'll make it fit<3 Could spend literal hours fingering you or eating you out, but usually he tries to get you nice and ready as quickly as possible because he can't wait to feel you around his cock. It's physically impossible to look at this man and don't associate him with one of the thickest dicks ever. Every single inch of his body gives off that vibe.

[allfearstofallto]

Am soo happy to see your back even if it's just for a short while I hope your doing okey and that everything is good with life and work 😊 i wanted to ask if it was possible how do you think Yan Scara would react if reader got sick ? Would he be worried ? Would he try to tend to them or leave it to the doctors and servants ?

Again thank you so much for taking time for us 💕

My asks are FULL of this exact same question, I'm not joking 😭😭 so I just wrote all of them.

Sick Day

Yandere! x Fem! Reader

Featuring: Diluc, Childe, and Scaramouche

Diluc spent most of his life taking care of himself. Before and after the passing of his father, he was independent to a worrying degree for a young child. So when he got sick, he paid it little mind. He took the proper medicine and if the fever was mild enough, he'd still be sitting at his desk filing his mountains of paperwork. The only indication that he was unwell being the slight rasp of his voice and flush of his cheeks.

But that was because Diluc didn't care much for his own well-being. His body wasn't useful for much other than work, but only he believed that. The day you wake up with a cough and runny nose, mentioning to the head maid that you can't leave the bed because you're so lightheaded, Diluc is in shambles. The second the news makes it to his ears that you're under the weather, he's rushing to your bed chambers, at your side even when you don't want him.

Diluc can't stand the idea of losing you. You can hate him until Teyvat freezes over, it hurts, but at the very least he knows you're well. So the second you fall ill, a part of him feels shame for his inability to protect you, the other feels a visceral fear that you won't be around anymore.

For days you're catered to in bed. Not just by maids, but Diluc too. You're given soft, warm foods and plenty of water. Your temperature is taken three times a day by a doctor, who insists that if you're not awake to eat, you should sleep more to regain your strength. You wondered how much Diluc threatened him to get him to say the same thing over and over.

The day that you're deemed well and cleared to roam the manor freely again, is supposed to be a joyous one for you. As much as you love your room, you were growing sick of the wallpaper and you could only look at the same painting so many times before it frustrated you instead of entertaining. But overbearing Diluc is still around, watching you with worried eyes and begging you to take breaks to rest after every three steps you take.

Ajax is the epitome of an old wife when it comes to health remedies. With all of his siblings, some of which he ended up taking care of as he got older, he picked up a thing or two from the way his mother cared for him when he was sick. Her remedies, while strange to those from other countries, always had him in tiptop shape in a day or two.

It didn't help that you didn't hail from Snezhnaya. Liyue got cold, but even the hottest day in Snezhnaya was colder than the coldest in Liyue. Your body would have to acclimate to your new climate, meaning that even if he tried to keep you warm at night with the fireplace roaring and many blankets, all it would take was a little Snezhnayan air tickling your nostrils to make you wake up with a cold.

Using what his mother taught him and what her mother taught her before, he woke you up from your sleep when he noticed your runny nose and tears in your eyes. Pressing a hand against your forehead to check your temperature, all while your dreary eyes slowly blinked, wordlessly begging for more sleep.

“You'll rest soon, my angel, but I need you to drink this first,” Childe spoke in the softest voice he could muster, so as not to intensify your headache.

He knew something was wrong with you, the way you took the cup from his hands and downed without batting an eye. The little grimace your face made when the vodka hit your tongue was cute, but he tried not to get lost in your features while you were still sick and needy for assistance. His mother did a lot of things when he fell ill, but a shock of vodka was always the first, you were out cold after swallowing it down.

Despite his love for you, Ajax doesn't worry when you're sick. He believes that sickness is just one of the many battles of life and that there's no way you won't succeed in conquering it. Even after you're better, Childe insists that the two of you do some light exercises together. You can complain that it's your first day healthy, but he won't listen. Strengthening your body will keep you from getting sick again.

Even though he's lived for hundreds of years, Scaramouche doesn't quite understand the human body. Improper conditions for a prolonged time will just make you cease to work? And in the most inconvenient way possible as well? It's annoying and far too inconvenient.

Or, that's what he told himself. But when he looks over at you that first morning when you're sick, sweay pooling on your forehead and seemingly unable to breathe, something tugs at his heart. He feels something for you, watching as even in your dreams you're writhing in pain. Scaramouche feels pity. He assumes it's something he can only feel towards you because his heart sings for you.

“What are you doing?” Scaramouche questions a maid who he bumped into in the hallway.

Even though she carried a bowl of water in her hands, she still found a way to bow, “I received news that the Lady has a fever, my lord. A towel soaked in cold water on her forehead will help break it.”

He hummed. He'd heard of such things, but never thought that he himself would see them being used. A sense of urgency took over him when he realized that this would help you though, a need to be the one doing it for you.

“She'll be more comfortable with someone she's familiar with. Let me do it,” he ordered while snatching the bowl from her hands.

She opened her mouth to question him, but he shot her a glare before she could. He marched back to his room promptly, kneeling beside you as you slept. As the maid said, the cool towel did work. You seemed less pained when he placed it on your forehead.

After that moment, Scaramouche insisted he be the one doing everything for you while you were sick. Feeding you ginger soup, changing your blankets, nursing you back health without any assistance. All because he assured everyone that you'd be more comfortable with him doing it, although you rarely even opened your tired eyes the entire time you were getting better, so you had no idea who was cradling you in their arms and insisting you eat more.

When you're better, you're under the assumption that the maids are the ones who helped you, knowing that while you're sick you're practically comatose. But they insist that it wasn't them, saying that Lord Scaramouche himself cared for you and stayed by your side the entire time.

He'll never admit it though, brushing you off by saying something along the lines of, “Why are you saying such stupid things?”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[angelprinz]

boyfriends who are enamoured by you.

can’t disobey a thing you say, just in case you pout and whine (they love it when you do but they can’t let others see, can they? what if someone wants to whisk you away? no, that sight is for them only when they’re fucking you stupid.)

boyfriends who drop everything to do as you ask, “can you hold my bag? can you leave your friends n come give me a ride? can you lemme sit in ur lap all day??? can you come over and eat me out? can you give me a head pat? can you buy this game for me?” before you even finish your sentence it’s done <333

my favourite type of bf!!! they listen so well and are so obsessed with you!!! grabs their phone the moment it buzzes just in case it’s a text from you!!

“this lecture is so boring… do you wanna make out in the bathroom? it’s room30A.”

doesn’t matter if he’s studying for exams or with his classmates for a groups assignment, he’s packing up with an excuse and rushing over with a boner just for you <3

‘m thinking albedo, childe, xiao, kazuha, scaramouche, thoma, itto, lyney !!! which other genshin boy is like this? let me know.

dark content blog warning!!! 18+ only, minors don’t interact.