#girlie: *appears in the shining light*

[arcann]

He really did ran over his gf huh

[ivypos-writes]

with my touch (i have cursed you)

— aemond targaryen

summary: His first touch plants a seed of desire, and it is only a matter of time before it blooms.

Or, all the times Aemond touches her, and the one when he lets himself be touched.

warnings: 18+, au—no dance of dragons, targcest, aemond being a tease and a little shit, mutual pining, unhealthy amounts of tension, first times, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv, multiple orgasms, aemond being pathetic (he whimpers), smut with plot (and the plot is just prolonged foreplay)

word count: 8.7k

notes: so. i wrote this thing. english is not my first language. all reblogs and comments are very appreciated! aemond girlies, we are so back.

(also available on ao3.)

The street is bustling with life.

She is little more than a dull spot against a variety of colours, and something about the thought of blending with the surroundings is more comforting than anything she has ever known. She tightens her hold on the large hood of the cloak and pushes past a gathering of haggling customers, giggling as they shout in indignation.

It is still early, though the skies above head are spotted with warm oranges and pinks. The air is different here. Sultry. She traverses the cobblestone paths and passes through alleys filled with shops and boisterous merchants, and her eyes grow brighter with each step.

She has known life in its subdued form—in gold and jewels, and soft-spoken words, and lullabies sung at nighttime. She has been sheltered, and dressed in gowns, and taught to wield practiced smiles and pretty countenance. It is the first time that she experiences havoc. There is dirt and dust, and curses falling left and right, and women dressed scarcely in anything, scraps of fabric falling down their shoulders without care for decency.

In these streets, life is fervent. Chaotic, unashamedly passionate, and lewd in ways that render her breathing shallow.

At once, she is filled with greed.

Led by impulse alone, she blurs into the masses of depravity. She forgets about her name and titles. Here, she is just a woman—not a silver-haired maiden, or a dragonrider, or her mother’s daughter. It is easy to forget duty when it is nowhere to be seen; when it is replaced with pure, unadulterated perversity.

Something flutters in her heart, and it must be freedom.

She passes by multiple stands, and because here she is not a princess, she catches the string of a flower pendant and snitches it from its spot. The trader doesn’t notice, too engrossed in his attempts to sell his goods for a too-high price. She is quick to hide it deep inside her pocket, and the smile that lightens her face is radiant.

Her feet ache, but she stubbornly speeds towards the nearest corner. It is right there, and she almost reaches its edge—

“Are you up to no good, niece?”

A gasp tears out of her mouth. She turns, wide-eyed and flushed, and finds a splash of silver-white strands shining against worn-out fabric. She scans the porcelain skin and the puckered scar that paints it in pinks; traces the leather of the eyepatch. He looks different in this particular light. Warm hues of the sky bathe him in a gleam that softens the curves of his features; there is an odd gentleness in him that she doesn’t recognise.

“Aemond,” she murmurs.

He seems pleased with himself. She catches a glint in his eye that whispers of carefully restrained mischief; his lips are curved into the beginning of a smile. She’s seen this particular expression only a handful of times, and always in the face of chaos.

It suits him. More often than not, and only ever quietly, she thinks he was carved for it.

“I didn’t take you for a little thief.”

Her cheeks burn. They must be scarlet red, and she inwardly curses both the humidity and the weight of his gaze that only fuels the onslaught of the tint. Aemond’s smirk grows. The blatant exhibition of her shame appears to have entertained him.

“A thief?” she repeats, eyes rounded with what she hopes is a convincing display of innocence. “Have you any proof?”

He breathes out a little laugh. It’s sharp and fleeting, and she drinks up the sound of it, oddly enthralled. She is not familiar with his laughter. Her skin prickles as its remnants linger between them.

Aemond moves closer, and soon the distance between them is so small that their cloaks brush against one another.

She is so caught off-guard that she barely notices the pendant dangling from his finger. Aemond swings it in front of her face, and when she reaches for it with a surprised gasp, he moves his hand away in the blink of an eye.

Her mouth twists in displeasure. His grin grows.

“Give it back,” she demands.

“It wasn’t yours in the first place.”

“I claimed it as mine.”

“Did you?” Aemond’s eye lights up in flames. From this close, she can almost sense the heat. “Is it as simple as that?”

“It is.”

She doesn’t expect him to truly return the pendant into her waiting hand, and her eyebrows furrow in surprise when he does. Aemond says nothing more. His expression is meticulously crafted—it is layers upon layers of riddles that she does not know how to solve. She imagines peeling them off one by one and finding him as he is—bare before her eyes. She wonders what she’d find written over his face when it is unspoiled by composure.

His fingers briefly tickle the skin of her palm before they’re gone. They leave a searing trail in their wake.

“It’s a poor disguise.” Aemond eyes the hood that falls onto her forehead, and the few curls that cascade down her face in silver streaks. “If you want to sneak out into the city, you ought to be more clever.”

She scowls. “And you, of course, know everything about it.”

There is contemplation in his eye. He rids himself of the smiles that she doesn’t recognise, and puts on a calculating face that she’s seen many times before. It makes him look more familiar. Most of the times that their paths cross, she finds him lost deep in thought.

“Come.”

She eyes his outstretched hand with scepticism.

He will likely drag her back to the Red Keep—to the judging stares and stinging reprimands and her mother’s burning disappointment. There is nothing she loathes more than being forced to endure interrogations regarding her behaviour. She will be scolded, as if it is a crime that she, a girl, has decided to experience something more than feigned propriety.

She thinks she would rather stay within the dirt and stench of the city.

Aemond hums in response to her silence, and the sound is so low that she needs to chase it through the clamour of the street. There is something akin to understanding that appears on his face.

His hand remains still.

“Do you wish to see the city or not?”

She blinks, perplexed, and it takes a mere moment for her fingers to lace with his. His are warmer than hers; heat engulfs her, and she unconsciously presses against him with doubled force.

When her eyes return to his face, Aemond is already watching her. He leans towards her. His breath tickles her cheek.

“Stay close,” Aemond orders. He stands in such proximity that they breathe the same air. “And don’t be a brat.”

She lets him tighten his hold on her hand, and soon they are walking the path side by side.

Aemond shows her the city in all its glory, and not once does his grip waver.

She spends the night tracing the remnants of his fingertips on her skin.

He smells of smoke.

It is a cloudless day, and she has decided to forsake the red walls of the castle in favour of the sun-soaked yard. There is only the scent of grass and parchment. It is why she senses him before he speaks. He permeates the air like he owns it.

“Shouldn’t you be with your septa?”

The skin of her palm tingles with the memory of his touch; she clutches at the silken fabric of her dress, if only to smother the sudden urge to hold something between her fingers. There is a large tome in her lap, and she flicks the pages absentmindedly, determined not to look at him.

She hasn’t seen him since their escapade through the streets of King’s Landing. It is not that she avoids him—only she does, because it feels as if the line between them that she’s known all her life became blurred. She searches for its remains and finds them long shattered. There is void space in its stead that she knows not what to make of

“Shouldn’t you mind your own business, uncle?”

She hears him snort quietly. There is a rustling sound that follows, and soon Aemond’s arm is brushing against hers. It is a feather-like touch, but she freezes all the same.

He smells of smoke. Fire. Scorching flames. Her skin burns beneath the sleeve of her dress in all places he has touched.

“The Seven-Pointed Star,” Aemond reads, blissfully unaware of her turmoil. “I didn’t take you for a woman of faith.”

Slowly, a little hesitantly, she turns her face towards him. His own is perfectly neutral, but she finds a glimpse of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. She squints at him, feigning offence.

“Did you take me for a woman of sin, then?”

He doesn’t answer. She supposes it is an answer in its own right. Before she can think it through, her arm shoots forward; she elbows him in the side and smiles at the startled gasp that leaves his mouth.

It is a nice sound. Her cheeks warm.

When her eyes return to the book, she finds herself eager to continue the conversation, though whatever it is that urges her to do so remains unclear.

“Septa Marlow is under the impression that I lack virtue,” she says, voice dripping with venom. She glances at him, suddenly needing to add a rushed, “It’s a vile accusation.”

Septa Marlow is a cunt. Her mother will not say it aloud, but she knows that they both hate the woman with equal passion. The septa is stuck in her old ways, and no longer remembers youth well enough to comprehend it. Her teachings persist only for the sake of upholding etiquette, and only for as long as it’s necessary.

Not much longer. She is almost a woman grown.

Aemond chuckles. “Certainly.”

She shoots him a withering look. The corners of his lips tremble; he seems to be holding back another fit of laughter, and she narrows her eyes at the sight.

“Do you disagree?”

He faces her fully, and she can now see the scar marring his skin. It looks softer in sunlight; its edges blend with his flesh. She traces its shape and length; wanders through every inch. If she tried to touch it—to caress it with gentle fingers—would he move away? Would he give her his scorn, and his anger, and would the fire that they share turn deadly? Aemond keeps the scar out of sight for a reason. He must hate her for looking at it.

But Aemond doesn’t shy away from her gaze. He doesn’t seem to mind the way she is watching him; his body tilts towards hers, and now both their elbows and their knees touch.

He’s beautiful. It is a thought that never once crossed her mind, and yet it’s true. Sunny spells hit his face in all the right places, and the purples of his eye glow, and the sight of him steals her breath away.

When he speaks, it is closer to a whisper, as though meant for her ears alone.

“I wouldn’t dare question your virtue, sweet niece.”

Fire returns, stronger than she remembered it to be. It’s all she knows.

“Good.”

Silence befalls them again, and her eyes revert back to the tome in her hands.

They widen when nimble fingers grab the book. It is gone from her grasp before she can blink. She opens her mouth to scold him; to demand that he give it back, even though she doesn’t truly want it.

Words die on her tongue when the heavy weight of the old tome is replaced by softness in the hues of silver-whites.

Aemond’s head is in her lap.

Her heartbeat jumps.

She stares at him, and then around the yard, and then once again at him. They are sitting in a fairly private area of the yard, but she knows that they’re never truly spared from eyes that are hungry for controversy. Someone will see. Someone will see, and then talk, and soon they will become yet another spectacle for vicious tongues. Protests rise to her lips—numerous, and each of them quite rational. Surely, he will see reason.

But then he turns, and his eye reflects the sun, and she forgets what she wanted to say, or why she wanted to say it, or why it matters if they were discovered at all.

He looks so peaceful. She’s never seen an expression quite this soft on his face. There is a trace of pink on his cheek, and his lips are curved, and he eyes her with emotion she cannot fathom.

She couldn’t possibly disturb him when his face is smoothed with serenity. Just a little longer, she thinks. She wants to see him like this for a few more stolen moments.

“Go on, then,” Aemond says without a care. “Read to me.”

Her mouth is dry. She clears her throat and hopes that her face doesn’t betray her.

“My lap isn’t your spot to rest on.”

Except it is. She will not say it—she’ll never say it—but having him this close feels right. Like this, his softness is for her eyes only.

“I have just claimed it as mine.” His eye speaks in a language of pure intensity, and in response she burns. “Is it not as simple as that?”

She bites her tongue and says nothing else, and the stray strands of his hair tickle her arms. Her skin is on fire. She’s sure that her cheeks are, too.

When she reads to him, she prays that her voice does not waver.

The feast thrown on her name day is a boastful one. She weaves her way through crowds of faces she doesn’t recognise, and pleasantries fall from her lips as befitting the daughter of a royal household.

A woman grown. It seems half the realm had been eagerly waiting for her to come of age. She is mostly surrounded by men, and they all appear to be looking for excuses to touch her.

She is in search for any of her brothers, hoping for a moment of respite from the dancing. It isn’t that she dislikes it, but she has long since grown tired of foreign hands palming her body as though they owned it. She would rather dance with Jace, or even Luke whose clumsiness precedes him—or all by herself, uncaring for the crowds that wish to sink their claws into her.

Respite evades her. Just when she spots familiar heads made of brown curls, another stranger forces his way into her personal space. The man is twice her age, and she immediately finds herself repulsed by the leering expression that he cares not to veil for something more respectful.

His palms are clammy. They will surely leave stains on her skin.

The man leads her towards the centre of the hall, and his spine is straightened in a pathetic display of pride. His hands find her hips before she can protest; his grip is harsh, verging on bruising.

The dance couldn’t last longer. Her head spins from the force with which the man whirls her around, and she must steady herself by gripping his shoulders, even if the prospect disgusts her. She prays that Daemon sees them; that he comes with his sword in hand, ready to spill blood.

But it isn’t Daemon that grabs the man by the arm and sends him backwards. It isn’t Daemon that takes her hand into his own, shielding her from the eyes of the stranger.

She is at peace. Safe. Fire licks at her skin and sinks deep into her bones.

Aemond remains silent. He leads her away from the man, not sparing him a glance. As always, his hand is warm.

“Uncle.” She cannot help but grin. “It would have been more polite to wait your turn.”

He hums, quick to find the right steps. He is a good dancer. His body was made for it.

“Would you rather have him paw at you like an animal?”

She twirls, and the colours of her dress blur into a rainbow.

Aemond is a pitch-black spot against the canvas of vibrant hues. She is drawn to him; drawn to his darkness, and the violet of his eye that disrupts it. Her palm finds his, and she bites back a smile when he boldly presses his skin to hers.

It is not a dance meant for touching.

“What if I liked it?”

Once more, she spins.

They stand back to back, and her spine tingles from the proximity. He is close; too close. His scent is all she can feel.

He has corrupted her with his disregard for propriety. She knows it, because not once does she consider what their family would say if they saw them.

“Did you like it?”

Heat spreads from her back towards her chest. There are many things she has come to like, and none of them are quite related to some unnamed lords.

She could say it. Whisper every perversity her mind has conjured.

But more often than not, their short exchanges seem to be a game that none of them truly understands. She must keep playing. It is what keeps him returning for more.

She turns around to face him and shrugs. “I’m not made of glass. There is no need to handle me gently.”

There is a beat, and silence, and hands itching to touch. Suddenly, without any warning, she is pulled into Aemond’s embrace; a gasp escapes her throat when she feels his hand tighten around her waist.

His fingers dig into the flesh of her hip. He holds her firmly against his chest, and she imagines their bodies blending together into one.

There is nothing appropriate about this kind of proximity. She stands before him as a woman, and he holds her like a man would, and surely no one sees through the flames that have flared around them. This—whatever it is—belongs to them alone.

But her skin tingles.

“Uncle,” she pants, face scarlet red with something unspoken. It is not shame, but something of a darker nature. She is not yet ready to name it. “People are looking at us.”

“Let them look,” he says, and each word has his lips brushing against her ear.

They are so close that she feels his heartbeat. It is as quick as hers.

Not alone. They’re not alone.

“Aemond.”

“Do you want me to let go?”

She doesn’t. He must know that she doesn’t. There is something perverse about his hands on her body—right there, in a hall full of strangers and curious gazes. In the centre of everything. She would gladly let him hold her like this forever—until everyone in the hall understands that she is his, and it is his arms that she belongs in.

“I do,” she says instead.

In a rush of boldness, with utter disregard for her own words, she presses her chest closer to his.

She hardly knows where her body ends and his begins, and if she wanted to—oh, how she wants to—she could step onto her toes and reach towards his lips—

“You're not very convincing,” Aemond whispers into her hair, and then his hands are gone.

He leaves her amidst crowds, surrounded by dozens of onlookers, and yet she sees nothing but the lines of his shrinking silhouette.

It is hours later that she lays amidst silken bedcovers, a sheen of sweat clinging to her bared body, and furiously rubs the spot right between her legs. Her teeth are clenched, and her eyes are burning with vexation, and her hand is not enough. It’s not enough.

She is half-sprawled atop the wooden table.

Her braids have long since come undone, and her hair now cascades down her back like a shield. She plays with one of the strands, curling it around her finger. Her other hand flips the pages of whatever book she is pretending to read.

The library is quiet. It is located deep enough into Maegor’s Holdfast that she knows none of her siblings will find her. It offers the kind of solitude no other place in the Red Keep ensures. Dozens of shelves thrice her height have been installed within the walls, all filled with the oldest and rarest of volumes in the realm.

She cares not for the scent of parchment. It is not books that she came for.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

A small smile creeps onto her lips.

She knew he would come. His presence no longer takes her by surprise. Everywhere she goes, Aemond dutifully follows; no longer does she need to search for him in dark corners.

He is her shadow.

Every day, she breathlessly waits for night to come.

“Aemond.”

“Niece.” His footsteps echo through the walls. “It nears the hour of the owl.”

She rubs the tiredness from her eyes and swallows the yawn that has crawled up her throat. The book is now forgotten; she pushes it away, no longer interested in keeping up the pretence of studying its contents. When she turns, she does it slowly, if only to conceal her traitorous eagerness.

It is too dark. All she sees is a mark of silver painted on pitch-black canvas. His face is shielded from her view, and she bites back the bitter disappointment. She has gone the entire day without a single glimpse of him.

“Why do you care?”

Her eyes trace the outline of his silhouette. He strides towards the chair in front of her, and though she wishes he would sit beside her instead, she appreciates the closeness all the same.

The table is too large. She should have chosen a different one.

The air grows heavier, like it always does when she is with him.

“A princess shouldn’t be spending her time alone in the darkness.”

She wishes he could see her coy smile; wonders if he would offer her one of the private smirks she now knows by heart, or if he’d playfully scold her, or throw a comment that would induce a blush in response.

“It is a good thing, then, that you’ve found me.”

“Yes,” Aemond murmurs, and his voice is so guttural that she nearly melts at the sound. “It is.”

Then it is them, and silence, and darkness. It seems to have become a usual setting for their meetings, as though they required the shroud of night’s secrecy to conceal something illicit.

It isn’t wrong. Whatever it is—whatever looms above their heads—it is not wrong.

Absentmindedly, she reaches for the book; as always, he is quicker.

Their hands meet. There is nothing innocent about the touch, and she no longer desires to pretend that she is not burning. Aemond’s fingers trace the skin of her palm; tickle it, and she bites her lip at the sensation. It lasts only for a short moment—too short, never enough—and then his touch is gone, and so is the book.

She wishes he would forgo this restraint. She has long since grown tired of it.

“I was reading this,” she lies.

“Were you?”

She wants to tear the tome away from his grasp, if only for their hands to touch once more.

“No.”

“No,” Aemond repeats lowly.

If there was any light, she imagines that she’d find his eye intense and hungry; or maybe playful, betraying his endless desire to leave her breathless. He would look at her without a trace of shame, just like he always does. He would set her alight with one glance alone.

There is a thudding sound that cuts through silence. It breaks her out of reverie, and she flinches, squinting into the darkness.

Silver wisps cut through the air. Then they’re gone.

She straightens her spine, brows furrowed in confusion. It looks like he dropped the book and bent to pick it up, only she cannot see his hair. She opens her mouth, not quite understanding this particular game of his, until she feels it.

Something slithers up the skirts of her dress. Fingers wrap around her ankle, and then the other one, and suddenly her legs are forcefully parted. She gasps, and the sound echoes against the empty walls.

“Be quiet, niece,” comes Aemond’s muffled voice. “You’re in a library.”

This is madness. She cannot let it happen—cannot let him touch her like this, right there—

Aemond’s hands slide higher up her legs.

Her muscles tremble. He holds her with enough strength that she cannot escape his grip, forced to yield. Her vision swims, and there are only his hands—his hands—

He uses them skilfully. She has seen him hold a sword, and he now holds her skin with equal passion. His fingertips draw patterns down the length of her shins, and if she could—if she wasn’t possessed by a blinding desire—she would try to discern their meaning.

She feels his breath on her knee.

A small moan falls from her lips, and she clasps her hand over her mouth to cover it. It’s too late. He’s heard it.

Aemond’s grip turns vice-like.

He sears circles into her thigh. One of his hands is replaced by something softer, plushier, and she knows that it must be his lips atop her skin. He leaves fiery kisses on both her knees, and her heart gets stuck in her throat, threatening to jump out.

Higher, she thinks, and immediately bites her lip to prevent herself from begging aloud. If he moved his mouth higher—just a bit, only a bit—he would find out how much she needs him. Her desire has long since become choking. It takes a single brush of his skin against hers to get her slick and wet and ready.

Her skin is engulfed by flames. She must be touched, she must be touched—

Aemond’s lips are gone. She holds back a whimper when she feels fingertips brushing against her thigh in a parting gesture—little more than a caress, gone sooner than it came.

She closes her legs when Aemond’s head resurfaces from underneath the table.

Empty. She remains painfully empty.

“You should return to your chambers.” Aemond stands from the ground. He sounds cocky. “Who knows what lurks in the darkness.”

In the privacy of her bedchamber, she finds the mark that he left on her thigh. It is there for her eyes only. The mark haunts her, and she finds no sleep.

“I know you’re there.”

It seems that they only ever exchange words in darkness. Just today, she was seated opposite him during dinner, and he didn’t look at her once. She wonders if it is fear that holds him back in daylight. Her own fingers forever burn with the desire to hold him, and more often than not, she forgets about the reality of their relationship. Perhaps avoiding each other in the presence of others is safer. They were never meant to burn together.

Her steps halt.

“I’m beginning to think you’re looking for trouble.”

She bites back a grin. “What if I am?”

Finally, he emerges from the shadows. She looks at him without a hint of shame; traces the line of his jaw, and his nose, and the purples of his eye. His hair looks soft. She finds herself overtaken by the desire to grasp it with her fingers and tug.

“You’ve found it.”

“Have I?” she says, and her throat is oddly dry. She watches him, and he watches her, and flames arise. “You don’t look much like trouble to me.”

Aemond’s steps are slow. She has learned their pattern by heart. He has a habit of moving at a leisurely pace, and more often than not, she imagines that it’s yet another way of tormenting her. He knows of her impatience and aims to use it to his advantage.

When he stops, he is still outside of her reach. He raises an eyebrow challengingly.

“What about now?”

It is another game, and she shakes her head because she must.

Aemond hums. His eye wanders down her neck, and her skin prickles underneath his gaze. She holds her breath when he takes another step forward.

Still, he is not close enough.

“And now, niece?” Aemond asks. “Do I look like trouble?”

“No,” she breathes.

His scent wafts through the air, and she ravenously inhales it. Aemond’s eye darkens. He moves closer, and she laces her fingers together in order not to reach out for him.

Maybe she should stifle the last of self-control. Maybe she should grab him by the collar of his riding leathers; pull him as close as she needs him to be. Sometimes, it feels as though he is waiting for her to do it. To make the first move.

Before her contemplation turns into action, his fingers catch the skirts of her gown. She takes a gulp of air when he easily tugs her closer.

“No?” Aemond mutters.

He studies her mouth in silent deliberation, and it prompts her to take her bottom lip between teeth. His nostrils flare.

“No,” she repeats firmly.

His smile is pure sin.

“Good.”

Aemond’s lips claim hers before she can say anything else. Words die on her tongue, and she scarcely remembers what it was that she wanted to say at all. His skin is scorching hot, and his mouth is demanding, and when she gasps into his mouth, he swallows the sound like a man starved.

She throws her hands around his neck before he disappears; before once more he flees from her touch. He is both soft and solid, and her fingertips go alight from the fire flowing through his veins. Aemond pushes into her, and soon her spine connects with the stone wall. His hands wander over her body, tugging impatiently at the endless pieces of material that separate them.

His kisses are flames. None of her dreams have done them justice. Her tongue dances as led by his own, and her teeth graze his bottom lip, and she can no longer think straight when he whimpers into her mouth.

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, and she drinks up the words straight from his tongue.

She pulls him closer, closer, and he hitches her leg over his hip, and she thinks that there is no going back from it. She will forever be cursed with the memory of his taste.

Her lips are full of him even when he’s gone.

She is a woman possessed by madness.

An entire moon has passed, and he hasn’t touched her once. It is as though he forgot that she exists; as though her existence meant nothing at all. Distance stretches between them, sharp and thorned, and it cuts through her skin with vicious force. She burns with want. She burns until there is nothing left but ashes.

When she dreams, it is of his lips. Their taste has long faded, and though she chases the memory every night, she is left with emptiness. Sometimes, it feels as though she’s dying of hunger. She must taste him again. If she won’t, she thinks she’ll wither away.

She once thought that his teasing touch was torture. It’s only now—only when it’s gone—that knows it is the lack of it that elicits true torment.

It’s been three days since she saw him last. Even their last meeting was only in brief; he was gone as soon as her eyes found him amidst crowds of the Red Keep, his steps too quick for her to catch up with.

He has left her to burn alone. Now the flames have grown wild and lethal, and she succumbs to this insanity because she must.

She stays close to the stone wall.

It is nighttime, and most of the residents have retired to their bedchambers. The corridors are empty, guarded only in a few spots; her footsteps echo through the walls, accompanied by complete silence. She appreciates the semblance of privacy that has come with sunset. It is easier to slip by unnoticed when the lights are subdued.

Less than an hour ago, she caught a glimpse of Aemond in the courtyard, sword in his hand. He looked composed as ever, and by the end of the training session his forehead was sheen with sweat. It is what brought about this madness—the sight of him panting for breath.

It’s why she follows him now. He is quick on his feet, and so quiet that she cannot even hear him. All she sees is the broadness of his shoulders and silver-white wisps resting on his back.

She moves faster, determined not to lose him. Her pace turns unrelenting; she watches Aemond reach for the gilded knob. Just before the doors close behind him, she slips inside.

His bedchamber is swallowed by darkness. It is the first thing she sees; her eyes strain, eager to scan the entirety of the room. It looks pristine. His inclination for tidiness doesn’t astound her. She now knows that he keeps all his chaos leashed, preferring to build walls of purity around himself.

She sees through it all. Knows his vices by heart.

Aemond watches her without a trace of surprise. He must have known, then, that she was hunting him down.

It is different this time. The air is thicker. They are alone, and no one can enter his bedchamber without explicit permission. He must realise it. The purple of his eye is darker, and all she finds in it is desire.

Because it is him who has this time become prey, she is the first to make a move.

“I’m here, uncle. I came to you.”

It takes only one step for their chests to come closer, now on the verge of pressing together. Aemond’s face is a perfect image of indifference, but she knows better. There is something dangerous in his eye. She must push further than this to draw it out.

Her eyes go round with feigned innocence, and his own become hooded.

She wonders if his lips still taste the same.

“Won’t you touch me?” she whispers, never letting her gaze falter.

Aemond’s face remains carved in stone. “Perhaps you should ask nicely.”

It is as though he had struck her.

A beat passes, and she knows not what to say. Her mouth is dry. Her hands itch from the constant urge to sink into his flesh.

“Ask?”

He repeats without hesitation, “Ask.”

She bites her tongue hard enough to wince.

It was foolish of her to come. He must think her desperate; corrupt, with her displayed flesh pulsating from the desire to be touched. She is wanton and wicked, and shame burns her cheeks upon the realisation.

A woman of sin.

If he wanted to, he would have touched her already. He would take her into his arms, and breathe in her scent, and bury his fingers deep in her soul. If he wanted to, all hesitation would shatter into pieces, and there would be no need to collect them anymore.

And yet his hands remain still.

She must have been wrong. So, so wrong.

With her eyes stinging, stubbornly downcast, she moves towards the door. If she leaves quickly enough, perhaps he’ll forget she was there at all. Perhaps she’ll awaken the next day and it will all turn out to have been a nightmare. Perhaps she—

Aemond’s hand clutches her forearm. His touch is gentle but firm; she can feel his fingers slither around her skin, closing his grip to prevent her from moving.

She holds her breath. All air is gone.

“Ask,” he says again, “and you shall have it.”

He pushes into her from behind, and his heat engulfs her in wild flames. Aemond’s chest presses against the length of her spine; his hair tickles her skin. She bites her lip when his nose brushes her cheek.

Her heart beats in a wild tune. Does his own match it?

It must. Surely, it must.

“Ask.”

There is something desperate about him; something in his tone that whispers in a language she knows by heart. He is half-begging. She recognises it, because he has done the same in her dreams.

She yields. Utterly. Completely.

“Touch me,” she whispers.

He does.

Aemond grabs her hips and turns her around, and all softness she has come to know him for is gone. His eye is blown wide; it burns, it burns, it burns.

The kiss is bruising. His tongue enters her mouth before she can reciprocate; her spine connects with the surface of the door, and she welcomes the chill it provides with relief. Aemond’s lips are demanding and forceful, and he gasps into her mouth when her hands finally touch his bare skin. She digs her fingers into his neck, and tugs at his hair, and pulls him closer. It is not enough. She needs their mouths to mould into one—to never separate again.

He kisses her without his past control. She gasps for air, and Aemond breathes out into her skin, refusing to let go. His teeth nibble at her bottom lip, and she swallows down a whimper.

His fingers find her neck. The rings that adorn them are cold.

“Here?” he pants, breathless. “Do you want me to touch you here?”

She wraps his hair around her fingers, searching for an anchor. Her head swims, and all air is gone, and if it weren’t for his grip on her hip, she would crumble to the floor. Aemond groans when she pulls at the strands in her hand; she wants to bottle the sound and keep it as hers forever.

“Yes,” she whispers into his lips.

Aemond’s hand wraps around her throat; she sees stars.

Their tongues are at war, and she matches his tempo with determination. He tastes like smoke. Like the sun. Like oxygen. His thumb comes up to stroke her cheek, and the gentleness of this touch is a stark contrast to the way he devours her. She throbs with want. Now that she has touched him, she doesn’t think she could ever stop.

She didn’t know it could feel like this.

Because she’s possessed by greed, she breathes out a quiet, needy, “More.”

Aemond’s lips part with hers, and she immediately wishes to cry out in protest.

She burns under the weight of his gaze. Without once taking his eye off hers, Aemond’s hand leaves her throat, trailing down to her collarbone. His touch is feather-like; fingers tickle her skin. She sucks in air when his hand moves lower, playing with the lace neckline. One of his fingertips sneaks beneath the fabric.

“Should I touch you here?”

His hand boldly grabs her breast. She has never been touched like this. Her mouth dries, and she pushes her chest into Aemond’s grasp, flushing at the low hum he lets out in response. His lips find a spot on her neck that has her panting, and he sucks at the sensitive skin with such ardour that she’s certain he’ll leave a mark.

She moans when his fingers find her pebbled nipple and flick against it, and the wanton sound induces hot shame. He touches her through the fabric of her dress, and it is not enough. She needs more. She needs everything.

Embarrassed, she covers her mouth with her hand.

Aemond’s eye flashes with a wicked glint.

“Here?” he asks, pinching the nipple.

The sound that escapes her throat is smothered by her palm. Desperate, suspended on the verge of madness, she nods. Aemond’s lips curve into a smile, but his fingers refuse to give in.

Their lips touch when he whispers, “Say it.”

And because she’d do anything, anything, her hand obediently falls down.

“Please.”

“How prettily you beg.”

There is a tearing sound; she watches Aemond rip the corset of her dress apart, tugging it down so that her chest is exposed. She has no time to cover herself in scarlet shame, nor to complain about him ruining her favourite gown. His mouth finds her nipple, and she cries out when he sucks at it.

She knows nothing but his tongue that swirls around the nipple in torturous circles; nothing but his teeth when he bites down. Aemond presses her body further into the door, and there is not an inch left that separates them. They are one. Her arms hold him tightly. If she lets go, she will collapse.

His lips are gone. Before she can object, Aemond slides his palms lower—between her breasts, down her waist, over the curve of her hip bone. He sinks to his knees before her, and she watches, wide-eyed and unable to move. Aemond’s hand catches the skirt of her dress and hitches it upwards, bunching the fabric so that her skin is on display. His fingers find her bare thigh, and they are quick to wrap around its width. She whimpers when he pushes her legs apart, forcing himself in between. When he puts her knee over his shoulder, holding her upright with the sheer strength of his arms, she is gone.

“You have cursed me,” he murmurs into her skin, lips nibbling at her inner thigh. “I spend my days thinking of you.”

Her mouth parts; she gasps for air, chest rising and falling with increasing speed. Aemond’s hold on her thigh tightens when she squirms in his arms.

“I spend my nights dreaming of you.”

His sinful lips traverse the expanse of her exposed skin. They move higher, higher, and her muscles twitch with anticipation. He’s too slow, and her hips involuntarily push forward, seeking his touch. Aemond cruelly holds her still. She’s convinced that he’ll leave her skin bruised; convinced that before he reaches the spot where she aches most, she will have died from this torture.

When his tongue first touches her cunt, her vision blurs.

It feels nothing like her fingers. He is skilful and hungry, and the wet muscle laps at her clit in furious motions. Moans spill from her lips, and she has long since forgotten all about propriety. It means little when Aemond’s head is buried between her thighs; when the sinful act feels this holy. All thoughts dissolve into nothing, wiped away with his expert tongue. Aemond’s grip turns vice-like. There is nothing she can do but take whatever he wants to give.

Her clit pulsates from the onslaught. He spits, and then licks up the saliva, rubbing it in between her folds, and she nearly squeals at the sensation. It’s wet and filthy, and when he moans into her cunt, sending chills down her spine, she knows she won’t last much longer.

“Aemond,” she gasps, because his name is the only thing she knows anymore. “Aemond.”

Whines fall from her lips, and she no longer cares to smother them. Her hips rock, and his mouth keeps moving against her cunt, and she can’t, she can’t—

Right there, with his wicked tongue inside her, she erupts.

It’s like a storm. A wildfire. She shatters into thousands of pieces, and Aemond dutifully collects them all, drinking up everything that she offers. Her body rocks, and he soothes her with his touch and keeps her still. Their hands are joined, though she doesn’t recall the moment when they first touched. Aemond doesn’t stop until her gasps turn into cries. Before he moves away, his lips plant one more kiss right on her oversensitive clit.

Her body trembles. Aemond pulls her down, and she allows herself to be led by his hands. His touch is strong and gentle, and she cannot quite believe that he’s real. He puts her thighs around his waist; right there, on the cold ground, she straddles his lap. Aemond’s fingers weave through her hair, and he brushes them away from her face with such gentleness that she thinks she might weep.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, thumbs stroking her wet cheeks. “Such a pretty girl.”

For a moment, they just breathe. Their chests heave with equal fervour, and there is only silence and tender caresses. Her fingers trace the curve of his cheek; she follows its shape, searing it deep into her memory. She wants to remember this. Every detail.

Aemond’s mouth glistens in the spells of moonlight. He is wet with her. Her trembling fingers collect the moisture, and when she brings them to her lips and wraps her tongue around them, he groans.

Involuntarily, her hips rock. She sees him swallow down another sound.

Not once did he demand that she touch him. Aemond is hard beneath her, and yet he stubbornly clings to the restraint she thought to be long erased.

As though he didn’t think himself deserving of her touch.

“Take it off.” Her fingers reach for the eyepatch that separates them, tugging lightly. “I will see all of you.”

He eyes her with emotion she cannot name.

There is something achingly vulnerable about him. She watches as Aemond’s trembling hand reaches for the leather strap, brushing against hers in a feather-like manner. His good eye drops to the ground beside them, and she is quick to put her palms on his face.

She wants him to see himself as she sees him. To rid himself of whatever shame clings to his soul. She wants him to know that all she finds in him is heart-wrenching beauty.

“Aemond,” she whispers. Her fingers find the clasp, and she awaits his permission.

He hesitates. His gaze is dark. She counts the seconds, prepared to let go, but his voice stops her.

“Whatever you want,” he says at last. “It is yours. It is yours.”

Just like that, the eyepatch is gone. The scar stretches from above his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek, and although her hands are shaking, she reaches to stroke the mangled flesh.

Aemond wheezes. She catches the slightest trembling of his lips. His head drops, and for a moment she fears that he’ll move away from her, but he doesn’t. He pushes closer, as though seeking warmth. She will give it to him. She’ll give him whatever he wants.

He seems at war with himself, both touch-starved and unable to give in. But then he faces her once more. Her eyes trace the scar, and she bites back a gasp when she sees the sapphire in the place of his eye.

“You’re beautiful,” she tells him, because he is.

When he says nothing, she replaces her fingers with lips. She kisses every inch of the slash, and his sharp inhale is the only answer she receives. It is enough. She just needs him to know that she wants him as he is.

Aemond’s arms wrap around her waist, and it is enough. It’s everything she wants.

“I dream of you,” he tells her. “Of this.”

She opens her mouth, prepared to pour her heart out—to confess the lengths of her own desire, and the way it has rendered her mad. But Aemond grabs her hips, breaking them out of tranquility, and pulls the dress up so that it no longer sets them apart. She sees questions in his eye, though she doesn’t understand why he feels the need to ask them. Surely, he knows how deep the roots of her want go.

Wordlessly, she reaches for the laces of his leathers. It is enough of an answer; Aemond’s face softens, and then their lips collide again.

There are so many layers between them. Too many. She claws at his shirt, and he tears the last shreds of her bodice, and then they are skin to skin. She touches every single part of him, learning his shapes and curves. His body is toned, and his skin bears multiple small scars that must have come from a sword, and he is soft. Warm. Hers.

Aemond’s fingers find her entrance. She is slick for him—aching, pulsating, dripping. He circles her clit and swallows her moan, and then he is knuckle-deep inside her.

“Please,” she whines, though she knows not what she’s begging for.

His finger thrusts, and then it curls, touching a spot she never knew existed. She throws her head back, mouth open in a silent gasp. Aemond attaches his lips to her throat.

Release comes in waves, quicker than the previous one. It crashes into her body with full force, and she is helpless against the currents. Before she comes down, Aemond lifts her up and buries his cock in her cunt.

It hurts. It hurts, and he holds her close, and she whimpers into his mouth. Aemond is patient with her. He peppers her face with kisses, sighing into her skin, and stills his movements. The stretch burns, and she cannot help but clench around him. Her hips move on their own accord; her body chases what it inherently wants.

There is tenderness in his eye. It’s enough for her body to melt.

Aemond grunts and pushes deeper into her. The pace is slow, agonising, and she cannot take it. Her muscles spasm beneath his hands; she is completely at his mercy, waiting for each thrust. She tugs at his hair and whispers into his ear, demanding that he fuck her properly.

Time stills. Her clit throbs, and she aims to seek relief with her own fingers, but then Aemond pulls her hand away. The hunger in his eye has turned dangerous. It’s more black than purple.

“As you wish.”

She whimpers when he grabs her by the thighs and moves her body away from the door. He pushes her into the ground, spreading her dress beneath her back to soften the surface, and climbs atop her. His moves are frantic, and there is a glow on his features that must reflect her own. His hair tickles her face. She gives him a beaming smile, and his breath hitches.

His cock drives into her, and at the same moment his sinful fingers find her clit. She cries out. Her eyes roll back, and she tries to close her legs, trembling from the onslaught of pleasure. Aemond grabs her knees and holds them apart. Her dripping cunt is on full display; she sees him watch the place where they’re connected, his lips swollen and eyes glazed over. Aemond rubs her clit and thrust into her like a madman, and the bedchamber is bathed in sounds of clapping skin and wanton moans.

She makes no sound when she peaks. Her mouth falls open as she convulses beneath him, and Aemond pushes his fingers down her throat.

“One more,” he grunts. “Give me one more.”

Her body trembles. She can’t. No more, no more—

But Aemond’s torturous fingers keep flicking against her nub, and his rock-hard length twitches deep inside her, and she can’t stop. She can’t stop.

She is boneless. Her spine arches, and Aemond topples over her chest, and their orgasms come at once. They’re amidst clouds, suspended in the air; above turbulent waters; high enough to be scorched by the sun.

They burn. Together, they burn.

Their hearts beat in the same tune. Aemond puts his hand on her chest, in the hollow between her breasts, and she weaves her fingers into his hair. When he looks at her, all she sees is scorching affection.

He stays buried inside her, as though equally reluctant to let their bodies part. Purple and sapphire glow in the dark, and she watches him, breathless and enthralled, unable to look away.

“I have claimed you,” he whispers into the night.

Her eyes are soft. With her fingertips, she writes letters down the length of his spine. She knows the words, though for now they remain invisible to the eye. Aemond looks at her with awe, hands still warm against her cheeks as he holds her. She wishes she could hear his thoughts. Wonders if she’d find remorse and guilt, and the desire to turn back time.

There is no regret in her heart. This—their bodies woven into one—was fated. His first touch planted a seed inside her, and its destiny was to bloom.

“Then I’m yours.”

His hands find hers, and there is only fire.

[rene-darling]

ACCIDENTALLY- walking in on them pleasing themselves to you

Adeptus reader in xiao's part, no pronouns are mentioned for the reader so ig it's gn!reader., just wanna let y'all know REQUESTS are OPEN so feel free to choose from The list of fandoms I do (yes I do more than genshin)

Xiao...tighnari...cyno...scaramouche

Xiao

He doesn't know what's gotten into him he was doing his normal patrol of liyue until he heard some strange noises of grunts and moans it seemed like someone was hurt!

As he got closer he saw them doing- things it's not the first time he's accidentally stumbled upon humans partaking in such activities but for some reason, this was stuck in his head he couldn't help it he just- couldn't forget about it...

His mind wandered to maybe you doing those things with him...how would you look?would you...even want to do such a thing with the likes of him, either way, he couldn't control his mind from wandering

This brings him to now as he slowly strokes his hard cock small whines leaving his mouth his mind was clouded with pleasure which is why he made his next mistake

Throwing his head back while arching his back he let out a louder-than-usual scream and accidentally let your name out "A-ah..y/n!"

In a split second, the room was covered in smoke when you appeared "yes xia-" "..." "..." "y-y/n!" xiao was startled as he grabbed the nearest thing to him and attempted to cover himself "..xiao" you were..shocked to say the least catching the ever so stern yaksha jerking it off...and to you?? "thi-this I mean uhm" was it just you or was his pretty cock leaking even more...

Xiao would have teleported outside the room the second you appeared but to his dismay, he was naked.

"I- I'm sorry I didn't mean to s-say" you wear mesmerized by him anything and everything he said went in one ear and out the other you couldn't help yourself staring at his naked body he was so pretty!! "..stop staring...please" xiao was embarrassed but he was increasingly becoming nervous too you were staring at him like some predator who was gonna swallow him whole

You slowly made your way onto the bed while xiao stared intently at you backing up until his back hit the bed frame "hey xiao, that was my name you were yelling right." "..mhm..i-im sorry I-ah!" you gently grabbed his cock which was poorly hidden by some sheets- "so you won't mind if I do this right."

The poor yaksha shivered and sobbed for the rest of the night truly, his darkest fantasies came to life..

Tighnari

He can't help it okay! You just smell so good and it's mating season for the fennec fox!! Every time you hold his hand, come a little closer to his face than usual he swears you're doing this on purpose!

He's been held up in his room for who knows how long with a thick dildo stuck up his ass as he pounds it ruthlessly into his hole

Collei's been getting a little worried about tighnari he's been in his room for so long! She's worried so she asks you to go check on him which you gladly accept

You slowly open the door to his residence it's dark with some light shining it takes a few seconds for you to adjust your eyes "tighnari..?" WHAM something lands on your face as tighnari lets out a loud girly shriek! You stumble around a little until you find the lights turning them on you look around when you're greeted with the sight of a naked tighnari trying desperately to cover up

Your eyes land on the floor where you finally see the object he threw at you...a cum covered green dildo...

For what feels like an eternity you two just stare at each other..."i-ill just take my leave" tighnaris so embarrassed you saw him like that! And instead of being sexy and shaking his ass or something- he-...he threw a fucking fake dick at you!! " archons please kill me"

He ignores you the rest of the week and doesn't interact with you running away every time he sees you with his face all red, of course until his heat gets too unbearable and he begs you to fuck him!! You say yes of course who could say no to him while he's whining and crying like that!

Cyno

Even the great general mahamatra needs to load of stress once in a while tho what he didn't expect is you walking in on him

It's been a long week of catching criminals he's tired. And lately, you just seem to get more and more desirable he can't help but get all sweaty palmed when he sees you!!

He knows he shouldn't do this here- in his office of all places someone might walk in...and someone did

He's clenching a picture of you in a bathing suit you teasingly gave him "in case you need something to think about while jerking off" he didn't think he would actually use it but...

His groans are soft and quiet making sure he doesn't disturb anyone "general maha-...matra" "y/-y/n! I-i um" in his utter shock he drops the photo he had of you and your eyes slowly look down a stunned expression on your face as you stare down at it

"I-" he doesn't want you thinking he's a perv!! "i-im sorry! Please forgive me I don't know what got into me-" he was closing his eyes too afraid of the look you might give him

You were quiet it was almost deafening slowly he opened his eyes and to his shock and horror you were right there in front of him "general I have great respect for you so I won't tell anyone what I've seen today...but in return, you should give me something as an apology- don't you think?" he was so embarrassed he was sure he was as red as a tomato! "mhm- yes I'm sorry anything-"

Cyno let out a huge gasp as you picked him up. And slammed him onto the table

"I think this will be more than enough- make sure to stay quiet now..."

Scaramouche

Scarmouche is a puppet he doesn't have sexual desires! But...there's just something about- you. it makes him crazy, mad deranged even though he can't put his finger on it but he's obsessed

Every time you hold his hand or even sit next to him he gets all hot!! So this is your fault he's in no way responsible for what he's doing if it weren't for you-...he wouldn't have ever discovered such carnal desires!

You're always teasing him about his sheer suit and how he should be careful or "bad men" are gonna rip it open or when sitting and talking to the traveler you rub his thighs up and down occasionally stopping to rub and group them

He pinches his cute puffy pink nipples as humps a pillow he's not even trying to be quiet he can't help it he's in too far deep

"wanderer- are you okay-..." gasping he stared at you all red and flustered "I-i...this- this is your fault!!" "?? What h-how is this my fault?!" "yo-you! You're always teasing me a-and i-i!" poor darling. He Starts to sob! He can't take it you've been teasing him and now you're rejecting it!! "I-its your fault s-so take responsibility a-and...help me" "i-i wait what did you say at the end?"

He can't take it! You're being dense on purpose, aren't you!! "I said help me goddamit" he gasped and let out a whine when you grabbed him by the throat "see that wasn't so hard now was it? You don't have to be such a bitch about it, if you wanna get fucked dumb then just say it nicely."

"p-please.." it was quite a long night after that.

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Healing ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 034 ✦ ┆・

[ TW: Depictions of Body Dysmorphia, Internal Misogyny, Fluff Ending ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Can you send a message to pretty little princess hiding in your heart? Tell her that her knight in shining armor is here ] ¡! ❞

For a long time, you've hated the idea of being a girl. In desperation to fit in with everyone else, you purposely acted like a tomboy. Pushing away those barbie dolls, mocking the idea of liking make-up, being disgusted with the other girls hating to get dirty.

All of that for the sake of fitting in, all of that for the hope that maybe if you become cool enough in everyone's eyes by not acting like a girl— You would find acceptance and validation from everyone around you.

But now, now who's laughing?

You're a grown woman now, and yet you cant even apply lip gloss or any make-up. Your clothes? Shabby long sleeves and hoodies, shirts that make you feel bloated and icky.

Your own body makes you so uncomfortable that even looking at your own face in the mirror makes you gag. The sight of your eyes, tho round cheeks, those awful dry lips— It made so sick in the stomach you purposely avoid mirrors as if they're going to kill you.

Despite how terrible you felt about yourself, despite how much you hated mirrors— You somehow capture Jinwoo's heart.

That perfect, perfect boy.

A clean shaven face, fluffy hair that always misbehaves but makes him more charming, a small smile that feels like it's lighting up the whole world— Yes. That perfect Jinwoo is your boyfriend.

And despite him not giving any hints nor saying anything, he knew of your self-destructive habits because of your appearance. Truthfully, there's nothing wrong with you, you've always been perfect. But even if JInwoo told you that— The only replies he gets are nervous chuckles and fidgeting.

He really didn't know how to help you at first, he wasn't a girl.

Ah, but he has a sister.

So he approached Jinah regarding you. She was perplexed by her brother's confusing statements since Jinwoo is so unsure of what to say. So instead, Jinah suggested he observed you more than he normally does.

And observe he does.

Jinwoo would often peek on your phone, not that he's worried that you'll be cheating since he's always around you even if he's not there.

He noticed a lot of things, your pins often involved dresses, your favourites had various pictures of make-up and other pretty things. It intrigued him, after all, you never shown interest in girly things outwardly.

Once Jinwoo had done enough watching, he knew the problem right away and how he could solve.

So, on one faithful day on your date in a mall— Jinwoo purposely passed by a shop that had similar dresses he saw on your phone.

Your gaze would wander absentmindedly towards the displayed frilly dress that had strawberry patterns on it's graceful fabric.

Bingo.

"Pretty colour, don't you think?" Jinwoo asks out of nowhere, leaning down a little towards you.

"H-huh?" You sputter, realizing wha you have been doing. "Well... It's fine I guess"

"Come on" Jinwoo gently tugs at your hand, guiding you to the store. "Let's see if there's a size for you."

"Hey!" You squeak, grabbing his arm to try and stop him. "I-I don't wear dresses! It won't look good!"

"It will," Jinwoo gently smiles, flicking your forehead. "I wanna see you in a dress, so come with me, yeah?"

You reluctantly sigh in defeat, letting Jinwoo drag you into the store. The man was quick to move about and get the dress, pushing it in your hands and then directing you to fitting room. Jinwoo waited patiently, until he saw your little head peek from the curtain of the dressing room.

"Come out, baby" He coaxes softly, as if he were talking to a little child hesitant to show themselves.

And when you do, Jinwoo felt his breath hitch. His mouth would slightly hang open, his grey eyes complete still as it gazes upon your beautiful figure adorn in that pink strawberry dress. The way it so gracefully lands on your curves, eloquent and meek. The flowy freels making you look like you best belong in a fairytale book.

Jinwoo felt like he just fell in love all over again.

"I-I knew it, it looks stupid!" You cry out, immediately shutting the curtain but Jinwoo sprang up to his feet and prevented you from hiding away.

"Hey, hey, sarang" Jinwoo chuckles, "You look pretty, I just couldn't talk for a moment hahah..."

"But..."

"Sarang, can you look at me?" Jinwoo cooes softly and you hesitantly meet his gaze. "See that girl in my eyes?"

"She's the prettiest princess I've ever seen"

His words make you shy, like it always did. Somehow, Jinwoo had a knack for making you shrink into feeling like a giddy little girl in her birthday.

"So, will the princess please spoil me by wearing more pretty dresses?" Jinwoo asks, his eyebrow cocking up a little as he leans down. "Hm?"

"Okay— ???!!!"

You couldn't even finish talking as Jinwoo shoved atleas tten dresses into your arms.

The rest of the time? Jinwoo swears he almost died with every dress he puts on. His heart was bleeding a river at this point. You're such a pretty girl. How come you've never tried such clothing?

Jinwoo could tell that you absolutely enjoyed it, the way you were hopping around, spinning a little to watch the fabrics float and twirl along your movement— The look on your face proves that you have been dying to feel this way in forever.

He adores that smile of yours, more than anything else in the world. If you look this happy in such clothing, he can only imagine what you must have gone through to not have the courage to wear pretty things until today.

In the end, Jinwoo bought at least 15 dresses off of his wallet and the idiot seemed to be even more happier than you do.

Just as you thought Jinwoo would be done for today— The man decided to drag you into dior where at this point you wanted to cry.

"Nah-ah~" Jinwoo hums, continuing to guide you inside.

He scanned through the lipstick sampling area before picking up a single shade, holding it up to your lips.

"Come now," He says gently, and you obeyed.

With a mouth slightly hanging open, Jinwoo started applying the lipstick with intense focus. His stare was boring into you, it was as if Jinwoo is currently doing something extremely important.

After a few more seconds, Jinwoo swipes his thumb under your bottom lip.

"Look," Jinwoo turns you around, showing you your the lipstick he had applied on you. The color was magnificent, suiting your sweet features and making you appear dolled up even by just a little. "This colour looks so good on you, sarang."

"Why?..." You ask, pursing your lips. "You keep..."

"Spoiling you?" Jinwoo finishes your words for you, his voice growing a bit quieter. "I know it's rude, but I snooped around in your phone and found that you are very fond of pretty things. Not that I minded your current appearance, of course not. But I can't help but notice that you somehow feel like an imposter in your own body. So what am I to do as your boyfriend? I help you come out of your shell."

"My pretty little thing, if you want something, tell me" Jinwoo kisses the side of your head affectionately. "Didn't I tell you? I'll always help you whenever you need me, just say the word and I'll do it"

"If you want to be a princess, then I'll help you become one. So wont you tell that shy little girl in your heart to come out and play with her knight in shining armour?"

You didn't answer, but that was more than enough for Jinwoo to confirm what he needs to. So he picked a few more colours of the lipstick he knew would look good on you. He'll start out slow with buying cosmetics since he doesn't know much. Maybe he should ask Jinah once he's home.

After succesfully purchasing the lipsticks, he gently intertwines your fingers as he guides you out of the store.

"Why don't you say we test these out at home?" Jinwoo muses. "I wanna see how well they'll stain"

Oh that devious smile on his stupidly handsome face, you knew at that moment Jinwoo was planning to probably kiss you until he cant breathe.

꒰ A/N: I'm struggling to embrace my own feminine side, despite my age I don't know how to wear makeup nor do I wear pretty things. I still have a very bad case of body dysmorphia, so I made this fic to heal me and maybe even allow me to be a bit more confident. I hope you guys don't mind this very selfish fic</33 ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[jinnie-ret]

perfect night

poly!stray kids x idol!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 1k

requested: @whoswony

summary: in which stray kids are watching the opening show of their girlfriend's tour, sonder, and they come to realise a song is dedicated purely to them

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

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Oh how smug you felt, that a song you had written that was purely dedicated to your boys, could still be released and put onto your latest album, Sonder. Truth be told, it was masked as a song to all your 'girls' out there, about spending time with them being your most favourite thing in the world, and not needing anything else. That was how it actually made it onto the album. But you knew who you really wrote it for.

You wrote the song for Chan, who dedicated his life to protecting each of his partners and prioritising them over himself.

For Minho, who willingly let you read him like a book and get to know him because he wasn't scared of opening up to you.

For Changbin, who often indulged in late night deep conversations with you, whether they were trivial matters that you spiraled deeply into, or more serious ones that helped each of you lift the weight off of your shoulders.

For Hyunjin, whose dramatic antics yet romantic attitude always made you swoon, no matter how goofy he would suddenly become.

You wrote it for Jisung, who always managed to keep you on your toes, whether it be from him bursting into song, his sleep clinginess or his rambles about his new favourite anime that inspired him to write a song or two.

For Felix, who was your constant source of happiness, smiles radiating sunshine and reflecting his light across your shadows, forever brightening your day.

For Seungmin, your cheeky yet very emotionally intelligent partner in crime who helped you stay rational in times when all you could see was doom and gloom.

And finally for Jeongin, who always insisted his admiration for you, was levels above your own for him, because he couldn't believe that it was possible for anyone to be more adored in this world than you.

They were all you needed. And you couldn't wait to show them that, and finally be able to express that to them through the other thing you all loved - music.

-★-★-★-★-★-

Gorgeous yet eery piano notes echoed across the walls of the stadium as you made your entrance, like you were a mystical being that your fans laid their eyes upon.

"She's so hot," Jeongin sighed as he leant across the railings.

"Real," Hyunjin nodded, tongue grazing his upper lip.

"Stop perving on our girlfriend," Seungmin sighed and whacked them on the backs of their heads.

Your boyfriends were sat on an upper tier of the seating in the stadium, safely away from fans and any possible suspicions to why they were there. Luckily, if that case was ever made, fans would be sure to defend you, knowing that you and Jeongin were friends at SOPA.

If only they knew that the two of you were way more than friends. As well as his seven other band members.

Suddenly a new track they hadn't heard started playing, some calming guitar sounding out before a drum track starting kicking in and their girlfriend's poppy voice blended perfectly with the music.

"Come and take a ride with me, I got a credit card and some good company..."

"Wait, that's about us, right?" Chan's eyes widened and a big grin appeared on his face.

"She literally said her girlies," Minho said bluntly, making Chan laugh.

"We're sort of the girlies," Han shrugged.

"Yeah Jisung you do give baby girl energy to be fair," Felix laughed.

"So does Binnie," Jisung added on, smiling as their girl performed.

The fun, light-hearted choreography made you shine with your bright energy.

"I feel so proud, wahhh," Changbin held his hand over his heart, bopping along to the music much like his other boyfriends.

"Quick, let's head backstage!" Felix pushed his other boyfriends forwards down the stairs in pure excitement as the concert came to an end.

-★-★-★-★-★-

Stretched out on the sofa in your dressing room, sipping from some water, you nearly choked on your mouthful as the door burst open with eight men pouring through.

"You were so good!"

"That song was about us right?!"

"Right?!"

You giggled as you were quite literally smothered in their love, kisses being peppered across your face, your neck, your hands, swallowed up in the arms of your boyfriends.

"Yah! What if I was getting changed?" you gasped playfully as you pushed them all away.

"I wouldn't be complaining," Hyunjin smirked before getting a neck slap from Minho.

"Hey!"

And on they went playfully fighting as Chan gave you one of his hoodies he brought with him, just for you.

"Thanks love," you smiled fondly, pulling the fluffy black hoodie over your head as Jeongin tugged you into his arms.

"You really wrote a song about us?" Felix grabbed your hands to gain your attention.

"How could you tell?" you pushed your lips together, trying not to let any words spill out straight away. You'd keep them guessing just that bit longer, that was your game.

"Credit card and some good company? You literally said that to us one time," Seungmin shrugged knowingly, with shake of his head to get the hair out of his face. He had been growing it longer recently - no objections from you.

"That could just be about my friends," you feigned ignorance.

"Nah!"

"No way!"

"Hey I have friends!" you stood up, folding your arms and detesting their claims.

"We know you do, we know love," Changbin back hugged you tightly.

"But you also have us, hmm?" Minho smirked, tickling under your chin like you were one of his cats.

"And we're way better company!" Han declared, from his spot sat on top of Jeongin as he teased the younger and cooed like you all normally did with the maknae.

"I think Jeongin would disagree," you said dryly.

"I would!" the fox boy choked out, nearly sounding suffocated with distraught as he wrestled the older boy off of him.

"But you wouldn't, would you? Don't deny it, that song was for us," Seungmin pointed out.

"Mmm, sure, whatever you want to believe," you looked down at your feet shyly, knowing there was no turning back from here. They had caught you out. But you didn't mind anymore, you were happy because they were too.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @j-one25

[tempobaekh]

Bakugou Katsuki dating a hyper feminine fem!reader

(who is also the human embodiment of Barbie)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x hyper-feminine!fem!freader Warnings: fluff, maybe ooc bakugou? idk, the pictures at the top DO NOT indicate how the reader looks, reader is a Barbie dolls collector idk if that should be a warning I’m not good at this, there is nothing specific body type, hair texture or skin color described Note: Since I watched the Barbie movie I have been OBSESSED with it and hyper-fixated on it, so this idea came to my mind. I am not good at writing/writing headcanons so if it's bad please don't mind it. But do let me know what I can do better in the future.

Hyper and girly gf x grumpy and anger issues bf

Or la la la and ok ok ok

That’s literally you two

Dating someone who is hyperfeminine and is literally the human embodiment of Barbie would be an interesting dynamic for Bakugou

But yknow the saying ‘opposite attracts’

First time meeting you Bakugou would be utterly baffled at first by your pink-themed wardrobe, sparkly accessories, and bubbly personality; it would be completely alien to him.

At first, he might find you overly cheerful and appearance-focused. However, over time, he would begin to appreciate your confidence, bubbly personality, and unique traits (and also your odd obsession with collecting Barbies)

He might even secretly enjoy your knack for fashion and makeup although he will never understand your obsession with the color pink

OCCASIONALLY might let you do makeup on him bc he loves you too much to say no to you

Glaring at his reflection in the hand mirror with pink eyeshadow on his eyelid “I look ridiculous.”

but will literally threaten you if you tell someone what he doesn’t know is that you secretly took a picture of him with the pink and glittery makeup

Bakugou often reluctantly let himself get dragged by you to go shopping INSISTING on holding all your bags for you walking with you like an intimidating guard dog

Yknow that tik tok trend where a girl has night walking privilege and then they show their intimidating boyfriend walking with them? Yeah that’s you guys anywhere y’all go

Will glare and almost physically get ready to fight someone if they look at you oddly or comment on your appearance

The outfit contrast is COMEDIC between you two when you guys go out

Bc like you are all pink, bows, frills, sparkle, gems, and smiley

While he is all black, in large jackets, combat boots, hunched over shoulders, and a scowl on his face

Yall definitely get looks and double check by people

He will definitely give you self-defense lessons bc even though he is always there to protect you he needs to know if there is a situation where he can’t be there to protect you which is NOT often you can defend yourself

“If I’m not there to beat up some shitty idiot, at least you can kick some ass.”

“But I thought you would always be there to be my knight in shining armor.” you would say teasingly

Gets dizzy every time he sees your closet he's dramatic bc it’s all shades of pink, glitters, frills, and sparkles 

Pointing at your high heels; “How the hell do you walk around in those death traps??”

Bakugou ALWAYS remembers every little thing about you

Like your favorite food, flower, color that is really obvious or snacks, he even remembers your favorite Barbie from your huge Barbie collection

Bakugou would struggle to express his feelings in words, but his actions would speak volumes he will go out of his way to ensure your comfort and safety, and his subtle ways of affection always make your heart flutter

Surprises you with an intimate candle-light dinner with a big bouquet of pink roses

“Don’t get used to this mushy crap, okay?” he would mutter with a small smile

And you would pinch his cheeks “Who knew you were so cheesy Katsu.”

And you appreciate his ways of showing affection 

Bakugou once surprised you with a limited-edition Barbie that you had been wanting for a while and you cried

Y'all's dates might involve a mix of Bakugou’s preferred activities and your interests/ideas

So it’s a different type of date every time and each of them more fun and sweet than the last

Bakugou uses a few different pet names to call you by:

Doll/Dollface: Bakugou, at first, used the nickname with a hint of sarcasm but it evolves into an endearing term

Barbie: While this pet name seems like an obvious choice, Bakugou playfully uses it to acknowledge your resemblance to the iconic doll

Babe: A more casual and common term

Sunshine: He uses this term to acknowledge your bright and positive personality, even if he’d never admit that you have a positive influence on his mood

Princess: Bakugou might reluctantly use this pet name when he is feeling particularly soft towards you, even if he’d never say it out loud in public might let it slip once or twice

When you heard about the Barbie movie coming out you were SO EXCITED

Talking Bakugou’s ear off about the film and begging him to come with you

He is too whipped and can never say no to you so of course he is coming with you

You already had your outfit and makeup picked out for the film and also chose a Ken outfit for Bakugou fucking imagine him in the mojo dojo casa house Ken outfit with the fur coat SKSJSKJSJ which he hesitantly wore just to make you happy

He was definitely not enjoying himself by being your Ken no definitely not

He also bought you the Margot Robbie Barbie as a gift to surprise you and you swore you fell even more for the ruby eyed man in front of you

So in conclusion Bakugou loves you a lot and will do anything for you no matter what it is or how ridiculous it is

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback is appreciated.

[spidernuggets]

hey hey girly anon here🎀

I was thinking about some jason hcs about what if jaaon and reader were hiding from a vilain but they had to hide by like pulling into an alleyway and like making out lmfao

I think with civillian reader would be so cute bc he like saves her n stuff

Idk how to word this properly but i love what u do sm

i like the way u think anon

Jason Todd x Reader

Sooo Jason definitely gave you some sort of emergency contact button. It's quick and easy, but you left it at home in another jacket or something like that.

But you think "Oh well, nothing bad's happened before."

It's dark, and you wanna get home as soon as possible so you take the shortcut that Jason told you so. many. times. not to go through. But you go that way anyway.

You run into, idk, let's say Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane. Crane has a new liquid toxin he invented, and since you just so happened to run into him, he believes you'd be a great test subject.

As soon as Crane gets close to you, Red Hood swings in, tackling him to the ground. He tells you to run and that he'll be right behind you.

You hide yourself into a nearby alleyway.

A very narrow alleyway.

When Jason is running around, trying to find you, you call out to him. So, he finds you, runs to you, and squeezes in with you. There's barely extra room. Jason's frantic and asking if you're okay or if Crane hurt you, but you're so distracted with his chest all puffed out right at your face.

Jason takes his helmet off because he's just so worried for you that he needs to breathe. But you ruin that opportunity by pulling him in for a kiss. It was supposed to be a sweet kiss. A little "thanks" for him for saving you.

But the kiss lasts longer than intended, and like two seconds later, the two of you have your tongues down each other's throats. You feel Jason's grip tightening around your waist, and your fingers tug against the hairs at the back of his neck.

The two of you almost didn't hear the "Come out wherever you are," from Crane.

When the two of you finally broke the kiss, Jason sighed because the moment was cut short. He pulled out the pistols from his holsters and was about to step out of the alley to fight Crane, but you pulled him by the collar of his leather jacket, crashing your lips against his for another starved, wet kiss before telling him to kick Scarecrow's ass.

Obviously, Jason does beat Crane's ass. Scarecrow's unconscious on the road and GCPD.are on their way because Jason has better stuff to attend to. Like his girl patiently waiting for him to come back.

"Where were we," he grunts, his hands finding their way to your ass.

He lifts you up, pinning you against the brick wall, kissing you once more.

This goes on for a while until the glare of red and blue lights appear from around the corner.

"We can continue this at home?" You suggested. Jason was quick to nod, pulling you towards his bike, wasting no time to drive the two of you to your shared home.

This isn't the first time it's happened, btw.

You have a tendency to be out at night. Is it to see Jason in action because you can't resist how good he looks? Yeah, maybe. But it's usually only minor criminals around the parts that Jason patrols. Jonathan Crane showing up was a happy accident. Either way, Jason still looked so fine while fighting.

Unfortunately, the two of you have no shame. You just loved Jason too much to care about your surroundings. So when you are out and about, and Jason is on patrol with Dick or Bruce, he's always out to see if you're wandering the streets.

One time, he saw you getting mugged, but then you kicked the criminal where the sun don't shine.

"That's my girl," he'd say to himself. Then he'd come right in front of you, pulling you to a secluded area, pulling you into a heated kiss.

But you hear someone calling out for him, but the two of you decide to ignore it. But you hear someone clear their throat.

You two turn your head and see Dick awkwardly standing their and Bruce behind him, shaking his head in disapproval.

Jason just scoffs and kisses your forehead, telling Bruce and Dick that he'll be back on patrol after he brings you home <3

[sublimecatgalaxy]

can I get some Rafe fluff for your fellow broken legged girlie <3 bonus points if he is loving and being kind to me after being cut open :) <3

OR NFL RAFE ILL TAKE EITHER OK LOVE U

Bestie, my love. I love you. Here I am to write this finally. Thank you for being patient ❤️

"Y/n?" The nurse calls out across the vacant waiting room, the clock on the wall beside me ticking as we pass seven o'clock in the morning, my check-in time.

Rafe squeezes my hand and helps me out of my seat, his hand resting on my lower back as we make our way towards the pre-operative area. The nurse smiles warmly at me and gives me a reassuring nod before leading me through the door, talking quietly under her breath about the procedure ahead.

Rafe is more anxious than I am, squeezing my hand tightly as my neck cranes to look up at him, his eyes shining with worry and burden.

"So you're here for your leg today, right?" The nurse asks, pulling the curtain back on a room as she motions me towards the bed and I give her a brief nod and a small smile. "So I need you to change into the gown, everything off. You can put your hair up and then put the hairnet on. I know it's not the most stylish but..." She trails off with a laugh and turns to Rafe. "Are you the health care proxy?"

"Yes, and boyfriend." He smiles proudly and she hands him some paperwork, pointing to the number at the bottom of the sheet.

"When you're in the waiting room, this number will correspond to her and her status in the operating room. You can track her on the TV that's in the waiting room." She wraps up her instructions with a sigh before giving us the room, leaving Rafe and I alone in anxious silence.

"Are you scared?" Rafe asks and I pause.

"A little. Just don't know what to expect pain-wise." I strip myself of my comfortable clothes, leaving me bare to the outside, clinical, sterile world and I'm quick to slip into the hospital gown and socks. Rafe helps me tuck in under the warmed blankets and settle into the comfortable bed, my eyes shutting briefly as his hand settles on the top of my head.

"You know I'll take care of you." He whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips.

"I know you will." I mutter as the nurse comes back into the room with a smile, careful to not disturb our conversation as she sets up my IV, muttering a quiet, "quick poke" under her breath. I hiss as she fishes for a vein but eventually gets it and I feel a sense of relief roll over me.

"I already have Rose bringing over dinner for tonight." Rafe beams and I feel a pang hit my heart, a happy pain of appreciation and love. He knows how much I've been stressing about making food and how anxious I've been at the thought of him having to do everything for twelve weeks. "Gluten free lasagna." He whispers with an excited smile and I feel my stomach roll in a loud rumble, pulling a laugh from the nurse beside me.

"You know me so well."

--

My ears ring as I open my eyes, the room spinning around me as I mumble out some words that are incoherent to my own ears. Rafe appears in front of me and out of nowhere and I let out a little laugh.

The doctors appear at my side, asking me a vague question that I can't quite comprehend, all I can see is his lips moving and a bright smile on his lips so I assume I did well.

Eventually, the words begin to make sense and they tell me that the surgery went well and my eyes cast downwards to look at my leg that's cast to the heavens and frozen in place. I let out a brief whine, my eyes squinting shut as the lights in the room begin to be too much and Rafe mutters something to the doctor before the light flicks off.

"You okay, babe?" Rafe asks and caresses my cheek gently and I smile warmly, even though I'm nauseous and already feeling pricks of pain, Rafe's here and he's not leaving my side.

By the time they get me downstairs to the car, I'm crying and bothered by every single person who talks to me, knowing full well that the pain medications are wearing off the further I get from my comfortable hospital room.

"We'll be home soon, I promise." Rafe reaches over to take my hand and I whine, head lolling as I look over at him with an annoyed look and he laughs. "And drugs, don't worry."

--

I watch as Rafe wanders around the room, muttering to himself as he picks up a blanket and carefully balances a plate of lasagna with his other hand. He's been frantic ever since he settled me on the couch, worrying that we forgot something at the hospital or that the doctors forgot to tell him something that he'd need to know to take care of me.

"Do you need anything?" Rafe asks, winded and I smile, reaching out to him as he finally cracks and rushes to my side, throwing the blanket over me and my wounded leg, covering it up as if it's not even there. He hands me the lasagna, kissing me on the forehead with a relieved sigh.

"Drugs." I mutter before I can even look at the lasagna and a lightbulb flickers over his head before he reaches into his pocket, handing me three little pills.

"I have your drugs." I take them without hesitation, letting out a satisfied hum as if they're the tastiest thing I've ever had and Rafe smiles so warmly that my stomach does a flip. "And your lasagna." He sighs, scooping some onto a fork before holding it up to me. "Open."

He's always been the gentleman, especially with my health problems, never making me lift a finger if I don't need to. He's already talked about running me a shower and washing my hair when I'm able to, not wanting me to sit in my stench for too long even though, if it were up to me, I'd rot away on the couch if I were able to.

But he just won't allow it.

"Thank you," I whisper, leaning up to catch his lips in a brief kiss before nudging him for another bite. I'll have to text Rose later on to thank her for the two trays of lasagna she sent my way.

"You don't need to thank me." He whispers, running a hand through his hair and I finally see the stress that's lining his forehead, his shoulders tense and mouth in a thin line. He takes on so much when I'm incapacitated, I know it's a lot on him- but he just does it so well, even if he's freaking out.

"You don't feel like my caregiver?" I ask, adjusting myself and pulling the blanket he got me further up onto my chest, enough to smell his cologne on it and I smile fondly. He breaks, his face cracking a bit as the stress melts off for a moment and he realizes that I'm okay and I'm right in front of him, safe and sound.

"No, I feel like your boyfriend." He whispers, putting the food aside for a moment to kiss me longingly, his hand caressing my cheek as I sink into him, knowing he doesn't care that I might have stinky breath and cracked lips. "Do you need anything?" He whispers against my lips and I sigh, rubbing his shoulder soothingly.

"A movie and you." He nods, almost going to get up but I reach out to him with frantic eyes, looking to the almost full plate of food beside him. "And more lasagna!"

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hello again! I've returned with another fic roulette request!

I would love to see what you can do with 2 and 31 Tech and f!reader. Please and thank you~ (Apologies for another Tech request, I'm a wee bit of a Tech girlie. ^^' )

Hello gorgeous,

I'm a Tech girlie too, so don't worry. I love our lovable nerd clone. He's so adorable.

I hope you enjoy this fic, since you didn't specify a platonic relationship, I didn't write one. I hope that's okay.

Also all the star talk is copied from Study.com, 'What Causes a Star to Shine Brightly?' article. Thank you to the writer for providing a great synopsis I could use.

Also it got a bit long at 1400+ words.

Love oo,

Just a Dream

Warning: Fluff, anxiety, force sensitive reader, possible character death, fear, nightmare, information dumping, I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

The house was quiet, the island was quiet, not surprising when it was nearly two in the morning. You did your best to try and sleep, but you couldn’t. You kept having the same dream, a secret meeting with Imperial commanders. An explosion that dislodges a cable car. Tech hanging from a rappelling cable. No matter how hard you tried to push those images away, you couldn’t. Something about Tech dangling over nothing from a rappelling cable put knots in your stomach. You grabbed the shawl one of the villagers made you, they said you looked like the kind that indulged in warmth. She was a kind older woman, and you couldn’t say no. 

You tightened the shawl around as you sat on the patio chairs that had been donated to you and the Bad Batch. It was their way of welcoming all of you and honestly, you were beyond overwhelmed by Pabu’s hospitality and openness. You never wanted to leave here. 

As quietly as possible you moved the chair away from the patio table, took a seat and looked up watching the stars, trying to calm down your mind. 

It was a few minutes before you heard the door to the house close and footsteps coming to join your side. 

Tech sat down and looked up to the stars with you, he knew if you were out here it usually had to do with a nightmare that wouldn’t leave your mind or it had to do with some anxiety you were going through at the moment. 

“Do you know a star is a glowing body of gas and plasma? The reason a star glows is that it uses nuclear fusion to fuse hydrogen atoms into helium nuclei producing both heat and light. Scientists can determine what elements make up a star by looking at the emission spectra of the light they produce.”

You turned your head looking at him smiling, enjoying listening to his voice.

“There’s a star that is known as a red dwarf star, it’s smaller and cooler than main-sequence stars. However, due to their dimensions and cooler temperature they are too dim to be seen by the naked eye. You need a telescope in order to see them.  And some have been estimated to have a life span of 10 trillion years.”

As you listened to his soothing voice you couldn’t help but smile and keep looking at him as you turned fully to face him, keeping the shawl close, shutting out the cold air.

“What other star is there?”

“Well I’ve also read about red supergiant stars. Now these stars have fused all their hydrogen, so now they are fusing helium into carbon. Causing the star to expand in size until all the helium runs out in about one to two million years. The stars with the coolest temperatures appear red, and when a red supergiant star dies, it explodes into a supernova.”

You smirked as you listened to him, “When did you learn all this stuff about stars?” You asked him as you watched him turn his head to look at you.

“When I learned you enjoyed looking at the stars.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You are important to me, and what you find enjoyable is important to me too.”

“You’re always there for me, aren’t you?”

"I will always be there for you. Whether you need me to simply info dump so your brain turns off, or you need someone to sit beside you in silence and hold your hand. I’ll always be there for you.”

As he said those words the image of him dangling from the rappelling cable came back into your mind, your smile fading as the sense of dread from before filled you again. 

He didn’t have to ask to see what something was wrong, he moved his chair closer, and gently caressed your head, holding your hand, “Hey, hey, shhhh. Shhhh. You’re okay. Hey, look at me.” He tilted your head, using his forefinger to lift your chin, until your eyes met his. 

“What’s wrong?” He gently wiped the tears that had been silently falling down your cheeks, “What is it? Was it a nightmare?”

You simply nodded afraid that speaking what you feared may come true. 

“Was it a bad dream?”

Well that’s the thing, it wasn’t necessarily a bad dream, but the feeling that came with the dream is what made it worse. It was almost as though your heart was preparing you for a loss that you hadn’t even experienced yet, “I … I don’t know.” You finally answered, giving the only answer you really could. 

Tech tilted his head as he looked at you, slowly guiding you out of your chair, to sit on his lap as his arms wrapped around you, gently rubbing your back as you tucked your head into his neck, wanting to hide from everything.

“Well… can you tell me what’s got you so upset. Was it something in the dream? Or was it something you realized because of the dream?”

“It …. It didn’t really …” you took a breath and closed your eyes as you wrapped your free arm around Tech holding him close, “It was about you.”

“Me. Okay. What about me? Did I say something wrong?”

“No.”

“Was I mean to you?”

“No.”

“Did this have to do with a mission?” You were silent. “Okay, a mission. Did something go wrong in the mission?” 

“I don’t know… I think so. I saw an explosion.”

“Okay. Explosion, was someone injured because of the explosion?”

“No.”

“Was I in danger because of the explosion?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, well what can you tell me?”

“You were dangling.”

“Dangling. Was I holding on to something for dear life, dangling? Or was I gripping onto Wrecker’s arm, and waiting for him to pull me back to safety dangling?”

“You were hanging over nothing from a rappelling cable. I know it doesn’t sound bad, but … I have this feeling.”

“Feeling?”

“Yes. I feel as though … I … I’ll lose you.”

Tech didn’t speak for a second, processing what you were saying, trying to understand the fear that had somehow embedded itself into your heart. 

“So … you think I’ll die on this mission that we haven’t planned or even expected.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but … I feel something big is going to happen, and because of that … we’ll be forced to make a decision. And because of that decision … I’ll …” your voice died down, barely above a whisper as you were about to answer him, “I’ll lose you. Forever.”

He let out a sigh, as he turned his head to kiss your forehead and wrapped his arms tighter around you, “Death is part of life, cyar’ika. You know that, I know that. These dreams … I know your force sensitive, not a Jedi, but at least somewhat knowledgeable of the force, and … it could mean a lot of things. It could mean that I’m simply dangling out in the open for a short amount of time. Could mean that I need to pack a second rappelling gun, in case the first one gets jammed it doesn’t mean I’m going to die.”

He took a minute to breathe in your scent leaving another kiss on your forehead, “And even if I die, it won’t change how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you. Ner cyare, please know that the time I’ve spent with you, being loved by you, having the privilege to love you in return has been some of the happiest and most loveliest days of my life. I look forward to every morning and night, because you’re there to make it better. I’m not saddened by the fact I may have to face my death, because I have no regrets.”

“I don’t want you to go” you stated, trying to fight back the tears despite the pricks you felt, “I’d rather have you alive and beside me. I …” you voice trembled as your bottom lip quivered, “I’m not ready to let you go.”

“Cyare, it was just a dream. I’m not going anywhere. Like I said there are no missions we plan on taking or are planning. I’m going to be right here.”

Tech held you for the rest of the night, even when you went back to your quarters, he didn’t stop holding you, keeping you pressed against him hoping to calm your fears and worries. He didn’t want to tell you, but the fact you may have dreamt his death, unnerved him a little. He shook the idea out of his mind, there was no need to worry. There were no missions coming up. 

At least that’s what he thought, until he received the distress call from Crosshair. 

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

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[uyuforu]

Hello!

I saw your post about the Vertex Persona Chart and it was really detailed. I'd like to ask how you think one should start with reading their North Node persona chart?

North Node PC is supposed to tell you about your North Node and so your purpose, your life mission in depth! It's also a way for you to see how you can be your best self ^^So, in order for you to understand, and as I did with the Vertex PC, I'll study my North Node PC so you can apply it the same way with yours :)

North Node Persona Chart Analysis

This is Uyu's North Node PC, I added asteroids for more examples.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ My sun is in Leo 2H 12°, making my soul mission to be making money through my passion, through my career. My NN in NC exactly conjunct my Part of Fortune, and it's in Leo 10H 12°. This placement originally means I am meant to be successful and famous in my career field, and the degree (Pisces) with spirituality, astrology, esotericism, etc. The Sun in NN PC has the same degree and sign, but it's in 2H. So it's the same meaning but making money with it. Finding a stable life because of my passion, and shining in it.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ My Moon is Libra 5H 19° (libra), which makes me have better opportunities to become my best self when I make sure to stay harmonious with my emotions. Making my fun, humor, charismatic self are the best for me. I'll attract good things, luck if I show those side of me. Also being nice, open-minded, non judgmental will do me best. I should not be afraid to be under the light or being the fun person, it will also do me good to be fun and laugh. Smiling is also a good thing.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ My rising is in Cancer 7°, and the rising in a north node is how can I become my best person, being in that sign and degree means that I need to step more into my feminine side, be more feminine or appear more feminine. I need also to be more charismatic, step into that part of me more, and also nurturing. It means also that appearing feminine, cute will help me more. My soft side, soft girly make up will make me attract more luck for example than a dark feminine.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ My Mercury is in Cancer 1H 28° (Cancer), so for the best communication in order to reach my destiny, I should not hesitate to speak as I usually do (it conjuncts my natal mercury) but because it's in 1H, I should find myself appear more feminine in my voice. I always sound young when I speak, and this is actually a good thing apparently because it will bring me a lot. No I will not speak like a child, or with a baby high pitched voice >:(

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Venus in NN PC is about how will I find love, best way to find love. My Venus is in 3H Leo 27° (Gemini). I'll find love on social medias and dating app (and it always happened this way), I'm very lucky when it comes to relationship (Leo brings success, luck and fame). It also makes me date people who speak a different language than me. My FS and I met on social medias and then met in a foreign country.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ My Mars is in Leo 2H 2° (Taurus), and Mars here represents where I find motivation. I'll find motivation in being the best at what I do, at shining, and being myself (conjunct natal sun). In the 2H and 2°, it means finding motivation when it comes to my stability, what makes me feel at home. For example, I could really find motivation into making more money if it comes to buy more stuff and furniture for my home. Or buying make up, food, a home, etc. Anything related to stability, home and life's greatest pleasures. And yes, food is a reward for me lol.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ My Jupiter is in Gemini 12H 6° (Virgo), making me very lucky naturally as it expresses good karma in the 12H. In gemini, im lucky and get the right informations, it can mean lucky in my communication lucky learning stuff quickly, being good at languages, being good with social medias, being lucky at spirituality, being lucky with my work skills, routine, health, etc. I'm lucky if I talk about stuff that is bothering me. And it is true that I find myself lucky when I speak about my problems instead of just overthinking it in a corner... lol.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Saturn here represents the obstacles I have to overcome in order to reach my destiny. Here it is in Taurus 11H 29° (Leo), fame over social medias could make me feel unstable, it could be that I have hard time finding a balance if I ever get fame and success over social media,or even among people. I'll feel very unstable, stressed, and maybe feel like a life where no one knows me is easier but it's not part of my destiny. I'll have to face that.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Uranus in NN PC represents the originality, and where I have to show it in order to reach my goals. In my NN it is in Aquarius 9H 19° (Libra). So I could present myself, do my make up, or my appearance could be different from the beauty standard that you usually see online, and because Im different, I could be making new trends about it online. It could go worldwide. I guess this could mean that lol... I could def look unique to people, and it's my strength.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Pluto is what will change in my life when I reach my destiny. It is in Sagittarius 6H 10° (Capricorn), so I could totally live abroad after I reached my destiny, or often travel around the world. I could also become more spiritual, or more optimistic. I could also become more lucky. Because it is in 6H, I could live a more happy routine, a more spontaneous routine, I could exercise more often too and be happy about it. That is also like me working abroad, having more opportunities abroad.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Part of Fortune is also luck, and because it's in Taurus 11H 1° (Aries), I could find luck online because of my appearance, face, fashion style. People could think I look pretty (taurus is harmonious beauty).

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Juno is in Aquarius 9H 21° (Sagittarius), saying my FS is destined to be a foreigner, someone I can meet on a trip, and Sagittarius or Aquarius could be prominent in his NC. We could also meet online, and social medias could also play a part in our relationship. Because it conjuncts my Uranus, our relationship is something that would also make me stand out.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Groom is in Scorpio 5H 2° (Taurus), making my FS Scorpio, Leo and Taurus prominent in his NC. I'm destined to marry someone who can look very cold, or shy, or is shy or cold. This person could be popular among girls, or just popular, could be famous, or I could see them as a player, someone who wants have fun in relationships. I could find them intense, and there could be a lot of attraction between us. Groom conjunct Vertex, making our meeting a major point in my life, my life will never be the same after we meet. Because it also conjuncts Fama asteroid, there are big chances he will find fame one day, and it could also mean our relationship could be part of our fame. It also conjuncts asteroid Glo, and we could have a lot of fame and attention because of our relationship.

-> By the way, in my Composite chart between me and my FS, we are Leo rising, Aquarius DSC, our Juno is in Scorpio in 4H, we have our Sun and stellium in Taurus, and our Venus and Mars are in Sagittarius 5H, lol and all of these placements are here in NN PC with Juno and Groom asteroids!

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Briede is in Taurus 11H 0°, making me appear as a stable wife, this could be my reputation online or even among the masses. People can see me as someone who is stable, harmonious, presentable. It conjuncts POF, so people could also see me as a lucky person in my marriage.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Boda is in Cancer 1H 18° (Virgo), my marriage could look very good, looking very family like, and the marriage could look a way I always wanted like. It could be in my country, and the feminine energy is def here! Very clean and well organized! Minimalist style could be a thing. Because it conjuncts two fame asteroid and Mercury, people will talk a a lot about my marriage, it could become popular.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ IC represents how we want to be seen my loved one. Because my IC is in Virgo 13° (Aries), I want to be seen as more serious as I appear to be, I want people also to respect me, and I want them to see me more mature. I also want some to fear me? lol

₊˚⊹ ᰔ DSC represents the connections that will help me reach my soul missions. My DSC is in Capricorn 7° (Libra), so Capricorn and Libra placements could help me a lot. Bosses, co-workers, lovers could help me a lot.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ MC is how the world is destined to see me. My MC is in Pisces 13°, so major of people who don't know me are supposed to see me as someone who is sensitive, artistic, emotional, romantic, also a spiritual person. Because of the degree, it makes me appear as someone who you shouldn't fuck with. Someone straightforward, just like right now. Lol.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ MC Ruler is Neptune, and Jupiter traditionally. The ruler of the MC tells us what I really want for my career. Because of Jupiter is in 12H, I could def want t path more spiritual, more esotericism for my career, and because it's in gemini, I could want to work with social medias, or online. Because of Neptune (Aquarius 8H 4° (cancer)), I could want to have my own business, work online, and work from home).

₊˚⊹ ᰔ My ASC Ruler is my Moon in Libra 5H 19°, and the ASC Ruler is about more insight about becoming my best self. So here it's being again feminine, looking good, being charismatic, nice, friendly, harmonious. Also making my fun personality stand out more.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Alma is an asteroid that represents destined lover, soulmate, Twin Falme. Here it is in Aries 11H 27° (Gemini). I did meet my TF online, and we talked there. And he has Aries Moon, and we had love at first sight for each other when we met.

Some good links for help:

╰┈➤ ✦ ; ✦

Hope it helped!

- uyu

[cynicalstudy]

I’ve translated some Precure interviews from the 20th Anniversary Character Chronicle! This post is dedicated to Tropical Rouge Precure. Information under cut😊 (Note: I am not a professional translator! There will/may be some errors, but I tried my best!)

~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~🌴~

Plain Text:

🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍

Page 1:

1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Exciting, Ever Lasting Summer! Cure Summer!”

2.The Precure Manatsu transforms into, her charm point being her lips. She went to save Laura, who had been captured by a Yaraneda, and declaring “I decide what’s important to me!” Her Heart Kuru Ring appeared, turning her into Cure Summer. “Otento Summer Strike” is her signature move.

3.A first-year middle school student at Aozora Junior High who grew up on Minamino Island and is full of energy and motivation. Her motto is to do what’s most important right now. She formed the Tropical Club with her friends, and her catchphrase is “Tropicashining~!”

🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍🏝️🤍

Page 2:

1.“We worked with the terms “tropical” and “cosmetics” as keywords. Our highly motivated Cure Summer consists of a multitude of colors, with her main being white and her sub being rainbow.” (Next Quote) “Her charm point is her lips, which are pale pink. A colorful sub section of colors was chosen to accentuate the white in her costume.”

2.“To express the idea of summer, we went with a hibiscus design, along with a pink to blonde gradient. Her costume is based off a sailor suit. The wavy, see-through collar makes the design pop.”

3.“Since most of the scenes took place near the ocean, the footwear had to be light. A thicker sole makes it easier to wear, along with a sandal-like lace design.”

4.”We asked Ai Fairouz (Summer’s VA) for words of inspiration as Summer. She stated, “Decide for yourself what is most important! This is what I believe  can be encouraging, especially in interpersonal relationships.” Fairouz-san claims she enjoys watching the characters enjoying fashion together.”

Plain Text:

💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜

Page 1:

1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Sparkling Jewels! Cure Coral!”

2.The Precure Sango transforms into, her charm point being her cheeks. She is a bit envious of Manatsu who can do things without hesitation, but when she sees her and Laura in trouble, she believes in herself and decides to not run away. ”Mokomoko Coral Diffusion” is her signature attack.

3.A first-year junior high student. She runs a cosmetics shop at home and knows a lot about makeup. Being influenced positively by her peers, she gains confidence in deciding what defines her “cute”.

💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜🪸💜

Page 2:

1.”Coral is caring and highly knowledgeable about cosmetics. Since she was created to be the “fashionable character”, we looked heavily into teen magazines for inspiration.” (Next Quote) “Her cheeks are her charm point. This is expressed as heart marks, which greatly enhances the cuteness of her character.”

2.“The hat we selected was an unusual style. We initially had it much larger but decided to shrink it and add a striped ribbon to make it more fashionable, along with a little coral. The big ribbons in her hair were also deemed fashionable, and her dress retains the elements much like a sailor uniform.”

3.“A skirt that is risen in the front to expose the socks made for a neat look. We coordinated these with pumps and frills to give them a girly style.”

4.“We asked Yumiri Hanamori (Coral’s VA) for words of inspiration as Coral. She stated, “I want you all to believe in me and my cuteness!” Hanamori-san likes Coral’s sailor hat and believes it is a cute accent to the costume.”

Plain Text:

💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛

Page 1:

1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Shining Fruits! Cure Papaya!”

2.The Precure Minori transforms into, her charm point being her eyes. She wishes to help Summer and the other Cures, but determines it is impossible. Being pushed by Laura, she musters up the courage to turn into Cure Papaya. “Panpaka Papaya Shot” is her signature move.

3.A second-year middle school student who is an avid reader with excellent grades. She is quiet, having a poker face, and has keen insight. She has loved mermaid stories since she was a child, and was thrilled to meet Laura.

💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛🥭💛

Page 2:

1.“Minori has excellent grades and loves reading stories. Since she doesn’t show much emotion as a civilian, the gap between her design like that and as a Cure was made to be gorgeous.” (Next Quote) “We created a hairstyle to mimic a papaya, hence the bun. We added a butterfly and colored beads like fruit as decoration. Her charm point is her eyes, so green mascara highlighted this point to a unique degree.”

2.”Tropical fruit accessories add a touch of glamour to her face. The earrings mimic kiwis. Papaya’s square collar emphasizes uniqueness while still retaining the similarities between the rest of the team.”

3.“Her skirt is balloon-shaped that resembles a papaya itself. It was a bit simple at first, so we added frills and ribbons commonly enjoyed by a younger audience.”

4.“We asked Yui Ishikawa (Papaya’s VA) for words of inspiration as Papaya. She states, “Do what is most important! What TroPre has engraved in my heart are these words~” Ishikawa-san adores Papaya’s boots, as they mimic loose socks, reminding her of her family.”

Plain Text:

❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️

Page 1:

1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Fluttering Wings! Cure Flamingo!”

2.The Precure Asuka transforms into, her charm point being her hair. She initially refused the Precure’s invitation since she didn’t need new friends, but decides to fight to protect her juniors. “Buttobi Flamingo Smash” is her signature attack.

3.A third-year junior high student with a strong sense of justice and outstanding athleticism. She is very caring and good at cooking. Through her interactions with Manatsu and the others, she regains her trust in people and her passion for tennis.

❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️🦩❤️

Page 2:

1.“Asuka is like a caring older sister who is good at sports and is a member of the tennis club.” (Next Quote)  “There are traces of this within her skirt. Her charm point is her hair, so a contrasting green mesh was added to the tips. This invokes a bold movement in her design.”

2.”Various feather motifs were selected throughout her design. This includes her hair ornament and sleeves. Along with a single earring, this makes it unique in terms of shape and color scheme. The ribbons are different behind her Tropical Pact. The asymmetrical design was chosen to represent a flamingo standing on one leg. This is accent by a light shade of green for contrast.”

3.“Fishnet tights invoke a cool older sister feel. With this, we believe the possibilities for cuteness have expanded.”

4.“We asked Asami Seto (Flamingo’s VA) for words of inspiration as Flamingo. She stated, “Victory! Simple and a declaration of triumph”. Asami-san loves the feather motifs in Flamingo’s outfit, as she says it is cool and different.”

Plain Text:

💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙

Page 1:

1.“Pretty Cure, Tropical Change! Shimmering Ocean! Cure La Mer!”

2.The Precure Laura transforms into, whose charm point is her nails. When she escapes the Witch of Delay’s manor, she becomes angry when she learned her precious friends have been hurt. The Mermaid Aquapot responds to her feelings and transforms her. “Kurukuru La Mer Stream” is her signature attack.

3.A confident and narcissistic mermaid girl, she desires to become queen of the Gran Ocean, but longs to be human with Manatsu and her friends. She assumes a human form eventually. Her full name is Laura Apollodorus Hyginus La Mer.

💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙🌊💙

Page 2:

1.“Cure La Mer dreams of becoming Gran Ocean’s next queen, which is the land of the mermaids. She is strong and confident, so we accentuated this with her bangs.” (Next Quote) “Fluffy sleeves were given since Laura’s outfit already exposes a large portion of her upper body. We made them round to mimic sea foam.”

2.“With her cute cut bangs, we picked buns with cute pearls in them to represent clams. The white leggings emphasize Laura’s acquisition of legs (from mermaid to human) and are connected to the open shoes. This was done to highlight the charm point, which was her nails. Also, rather than a sailor uniform, we chose a more exposed style for the front to resemble a swimsuit. This is because Laura hails from the land of mermaids.”

3.”The skirt is expressed with overlapping scales. By layering each color, we created a Precure with an unprecedented color. This in turn kept the mermaid motif.”

4.“We asked Hidaka Rina (La Mer’s VA) for words of inspiration as La Mer. She stated, “I’ll make my wish come true! Laura working hard towards her dreams is incredible to see. This, along with the desire to be a Precure, left a lasting impression on me, and it’s an important, powerful message.” Hidaka-san likes the gradient in La Mer’s hair.”

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Kirima's Heritage Theory (Yangchen Novels spoilers)

Ok ok ok ok. I know I (half) joked (half hc'd) that Atuat (and Amak) were grandkids/great-grandkids of Kavik and Yangchen. (reasons being nothing more than Atuat and Yangchen having great healing abilities, and Amak being assassin/up people's business reminding me of the political shenanigans Kavik/Yangchen get up to. Not a lot to stand on other than "it would be funny.")

But I woke up in a cold sweat today and realized "What if Kirima was actually Chaisee and Kaylaan's great-grand/great-great-grandkid? O_O

Tbh I've always just headcanoned her as someone who came from the Swamp Bending community (and ran away from it). But the more I think about the Chaisee/Kaylaan thing.....the more it might kinda works jskljf TT0TT Like both with what context we have on the chars (like it's plausible) AND in a satisfying narrative sense.

Chaisee/Kaylaan have to go into hiding with their son after the events of Legacy. Always on the move. Chaisee, though her land is in the Fire Nation territory, her heritage is a mystery (iirc) with no bending lineage. Then you have Kaylaan, who provides the waterbending for this theory. Their child is of mix heritage, and Kirima is most likely mixed as well (considering Kyoshi and Jingsu are, and Xu is hinted to be, and Kirima wears EK clothing except for a pelt, it's possible Kirima has at least some EK mixed into her because of how often it comes up in Yee's novels, tho genetic wise her WT side appears to be the dominant gene).

Anyway, the important thing I wanna focus on is, genetic wise it lines up and their situation lines up as well.

This is what Kirima states when Xu comes back:

Chaisee/Kaylaan would've been on the move running from the Earth King for the rest of their lives. I can see their kids and grandkids maybe even adopting a similar stance. Wouldn't be surprised if she joined Jesa's gang partially cause it was easier to stay on the move.

Combine that with, the entire reason Yangchen let them go on the run in the first place, it'd keep them from gaining power and status. Which would possibly make the family poor/not in good standing. Which is a big reason why a lot of (normal/general) daofei exist:

Narratively it'd be kinda satisfying imo. An action caused by Yangchen over a hundred years ago, aka "Showing mercy to her villain" only for it to come back and HELP a future Avatar? Usually we have a trickle down of Avatar's actions harming their successor, but this would flip that on it's head.

It would've been such a balm, such a shining light from all the BS Yangchen hand to go through and the problems she caused. (because, her actions did lead to Kyoshi's circumstances, because how Kuruk had to address Yangchen issues first, yes we know these issues started with Szeto and probs started with his predecessor before him and yadda yadda). But it would've been just SO GREAT for the girlie to get a win for Kyoshi. TT0TT

And if that's not enough to convince you. Consider this. Kirima telling Rangi "Hey yeah I'm also part Fire National, did you know?" and Rangi just fucking losing it. Just the absolute shock and horror of it all would be worth it. Just for the comedy jfdksalfjd TT0TT

Like, I know it's probs not the case. A lot of these can be explained away imo. Kirima could just be wearing EK clothes because she lives there/wants to blend in. The whole "on the run" move probs is because of Jesa and Air Nomads with their negative jing. But what if....fun? It's just a fun silly idea? jaskfjda

[vimara00]

All thanks to the cat (Shigaraki X F!Reader) by Vi ✨

Hi everyone! It's Vi ✨ Today I decided to write something about our crusty boy, he needs to be loved ❤️ I hope you enjoy! (Sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes, english is not my first language 🙏🏻)

Warnings: mention of blood but fluff anyway

All character reservations to Horikoshi

While the league of villains' location was still unknown, Tomura could walk around the neighborhood wearing a hoodie to hyde his face just in case someone recognised him. He wasn't a morning person so usually all his scapes from the hideout were at night, probably to get coffee or some snacks as an excuse to get away from the others.

On his way to the convince store, he saw a cute kitten in the middle of the street. It looked a little lost and terrified of its surroundings but Shigaraki paid no attention and kept walking. That was until he heard a car speeding towards the cat and, without thinking, he ran across the street to grabbed it and pushed both himself and the animal to the sidewalk. The car stopped a few meters away from them and the driver got out of vehicle to check if everything was ok. Unfortunately for him, Tomura is not one to forgive so, in the blink of an eye, he decayed the guy and left with the kitten. The little thing seem to appreciate his gesture as it started to rub its head on him. That's when the villain realised it had a collar with a telephone number. He contemplated for many minutes if he should gave the cat back to its owner or take it with him. However, he couldn't go back to the league with a kitten, they would saw him as someone weak so he surprisingly opted for calling the owner.

It was 11 PM and they probably won't pick up but he gave it a try anyways. At the second tone, a girly voice sound from the other side of the line and Shigaraki just froze on the spot. He was not expecting for them to respond and even worst, for it to be a girl.

"Hi, is someone there?" The angelic voice said and Tomura realised he should say something before she hang up "Hey I - I found your cat on the street and it was almost hit by a car..." "Omg! Noooooo, did something happened to him?! Please tell me he is okay!" "Yeah...he is here with me, may you pick him up? I'm in front of the convince store" "Yes!! I'll be right there! Wait for me, don't go please" And their conversation ended

Tomura started to sweat thinking that a woman was coming and he didn't know what to say or how to even talk a female. But then he thought about what would happened if she recognised him, he definitely would've to kill her but all those thoughts were out of the window once he saw her. Oh, how he wasn't prepared for such a sight! A curvy short girl appeared from around the corner and her face lighted up once she saw them. Her h/c hair was a little bit messy and apparently, she was wearing a nightgown under a big jacket that cover most part of it. Tomura brain was malfunctioning at this point and his heart beat so fast he swore it would come out his chest.

"Oh, thanks god Sombra (means shadow in Spanish) it's ok! I've been looking for him all day but couldn't find him anywhere! Your are such a lifesaver! Thank you so much" the pretty girl was almost crying as she grabbed her cat while giving it a few kisses and Shigaraki heart almost skipped a beat at the sight.

"What's your name, mysterious knight in shining armour?" She looked at him with a smile on her face and it took a few seconds for him to respond because of how flustered he was "I'm Tomura" "Nice to meet you, Tomura! I'm y/n" She extended her hand waiting for him to shake hers but before he could reacted, the e/c eyed girl grabbed his hand and shake it enthusiasticly

He was staring at her, waiting for the inevitable moment of her turning to dust. However, it never came as she separated from him and kept talking about something he couldn't catch on.

What had happened? Why didn't she turned into dust like the others? He started to scratch his neck as she turned to look at him worryingly.

"Sorry if I'm overstepping a boundary but your neck is bleeding a little bit, let me..." Y/n didn't finished her sentence as she reached her hand to his neck and suddenly, all scratch marks and blood was gone

"How did you do that?" He asked curiously about what her quirk was and also wondering why someone as sexy as her would get near or even help someone like him " I have a sanation quirk! I can cure from a headache to a missing limb and it also makes my body immune to some attacks. Cool, isn't it?" She wink at him and the air left his lungs for a moment. God, was she beautiful! "Yeah, it's a pretty cool quirk"

"Well, it's getting late so I probably should be going" Oh no, it's the first time he found someone who he couldn't turned into dust and also the first girl to look at him and not be disgust and she was already leaving. Tomura thought this was some kind of sick joke fate played with him where it would showed him the best piece of god's creation and then, take it away from him. Because freaks like him never get the girl even if they are willing to burn the whole world for them. But sometimes, fate plays with very interesting cards and makes unexpected happen

"Hey I'm... After all you've done for Sombra the least I could do is invite you to lunch sometime! Maybe somewhere quite where we could talk...What do you say?" She said as her cheeks turned red and she avoid looking at him

Shigaraki was not expecting her to invite him to hang out but he wouldn't complained. He felt flustered that a cute girl such as her wanted to go out with him. He couldn't believed his luck! He actually considered this being a dream and he didn't want to wake up anytime soon

"Yes, I would like that" he tried to smile as her eyes shined with excitement "Great! I'll give you my number so we can communicate and see when or where we could go!" If this wasn't the best day of his entire life, when y/n kissed his cheek as a goodbye, it definitely was!

Let's just say that Tomura came back to the hideout with more than a few snacks

______________________

Bonus

Him: Hi, It's Tomura

Him: Hope you and sombra arrived ok

Cute girl: Hiii Tomura!

Cute girl: Yes we did! He is already sleeping.

Cute girl: Too much adventure for him 😜

Cute girl: Thanks again for saving him! I own you one 🙏🏻

Him: It's ok, he was too cute to ignore

Cute girl: hahaha yeah! He is the cutest

("You are the cutest" He wanted to say but thought it was too early for that)

Cute girl: *picture attached* ( y/n with Sombra on bed)

Cute girl: Ready for bed! Hope u have a good night sleep! See you soon, Tomura 😘

(Oh, his soul left his body after that.

He probably won't admit that he watched that photo every night before bed. He should buy a treat to that cat when he sees it again)

[crispbeigepages]

~Broken Dreams~

CW| Death, Swearing, Angst

I'm so sorry girlies

Osamu Dazai was fascinated with death. The idea of dying was ironically what kept him going, so why.. Why did it hurt so bad now?

The plan had been going smoothly like usual, with Double Black being sent on yet another mission to eliminate an enemy of the Port Mafia. It was just some gang, what could go wrong?

Everything. Absolutely everything.

"Whew! You didn't even have to break a sweat, Slug!"

Dazai taunted, a large grin on his face as he eyed the redhead. The redhead in question, Chuuya, was not so amused.

"Fuck off Mackerel."

There was a certain shine to Dazai's eyes when he was with Chuuya, something that had only appeared after the two had met.

Chuuya wiped a bit of blood splatter off his face before turning to walk away.

"Let's just report back to the boss-"

Before either boy could react, a flash of light shot past them.

A bullet.

The two turned around to see not only a new enemy in front of them, but all of the gang members that were previously dead had come back to life. Though, they didn't quite look alive. Something about them was unsettling and lifeless. Maybe it was the crooked way they stood or the fact that they retained the injuries that they had before.

The figure in the middle of it all, the new enemy, had this mysterious aura around them. The only real feature they could make out was the figure's height, the rest covered with a dark hooded cloak and silk gloves.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Chuuya exclaimed in annoyance, dreading not the upcoming battle, but the idea of having to deal with Dazai for longer than planned.

The figure said nothing, simply standing there.

A moment passed before the figure suddenly raised their hand to point at the two boys. This signal was clearly the 'go' command for the zombie-like gang members.

"Shit..."

Chuuya and Dazai exchanged a glance, nodding. It was their silent agreement on a plan.

Chuuya sighed in annoyance as he slowly discarded the gloves on his hands, taking a few steps towards the encroaching enemy. Almost as if a switch was flipped, red sparks began crackling around Chuuya.

Corruption.

The power reserved for last resort situations was finally coming out.

Dazai looked on with a grin, having no worries about the outcome of this battle. Any enemy was an easy kill for Chuuya's corruption and Dazai's ability was always there to bring him back to normal.

The battle went a bit longer than anticipated due to the ability of the mysterious figure, but it was still lightwork for Chuuya and Arahabaki.

Soon enough, the sight of blood and death returned to the alleyway they stood in. Dazai waltzed with a spring in his step over to the ferocious Chuuya, humming a tune as he gripped his shoulder.

Like usual, Chuuya fell into Dazai's chest out of exhaustion, leaving the two on the ground comfortably. Dazai chuckled, jostling Chuuya a bit as he flipped the boy around, presumably to look at his 'stupid' face.

"Jeez, normally you last longer before collapsing~"

Dazai teased, his clear innuendo falling on deaf ears as he wiped some residual blood splatter off of Chuuya's face.

Except.. Something was off.

Chuuya was normally more restless in his sleep, and Dazai could've sworn he'd wiped that blood off his lip already..

"Chibi?"

He called curiously, jostling him again.

The realization hit Dazai like a tidal wave, his eyes widening. More blood had poured from Chuuya's mouth as he was moved.

Dazai was shaking, an emotion he seldomly felt creeping up on him.

Panic.

His fingers darted to Chuuya's pulse, only confirming his fears.

Dazai didn't make it in time.

"C-Chibi..?"

The soft question echoed through the alley, emphasizing Dazai's uncharacteristic stutter.

"Chibi, wake up damnit!"

Dazai demanded, shaking Chuuya in desperation.

"Chuuya!"

...

"C-Chuuya.."

Then it came, the familiar feeling of wetness on his cheeks that he knew all too well.

It started of slow and quiet, small sniffles turning into choked sobs as Dazai repeated Chuuya's name to no avail. Soon enough, Dazai stopped shaking Chuuya and instead held him close to his chest.

Dazai Osamu was fascinated with death, reveling in the sight of it, so why did it cause such a painfully empty feeling in his chest? He didn't even like Chuuya.. Why was this so painful?

Dazai held Chuuya's head to his chest, burying his face into that pretty red hair. Chuuya's scent wafted up into his nose. It was a smell Dazai had grown to love, even finding it comforting. What was once comforting was now even more painful.

The sparkle in Dazai's eyes had faded, replaced by empty nothingness. Dazai felt empty, completely numb aside from the searing pain in his chest.

In place of a boy with ambition and a sick reason for living was now an empty husk. There was so much happiness he'd unknowingly linked with Chuuya, all taken away in an instant.

It was his fault.

That thought stung the most, that if he'd been just a little quicker, Chuuya would still be alive.

With a broken voice, he muttered into Chuuya's hair,

"Chuuya please.. Don't leave me..."

The broken cry of broken dreams..

[leviosatothestars]

We’re going to ignore the fact that I absolutely forgot today is Remus’ birthday and instead I’m going to post something in honor of him :).

The concept of my fanfiction is how Tom Riddle/Voldemort’s reign had an affect on four different generations of women and the people they all loved. I’m white and grew up in a primarily white suburban town so I don’t feel like I’d be able to give women of color the justice they deserve, which is why the main characters are all white (Irish and Italian heritage).

People of color are prevalent in the story, including one of my other OCs and canonically POC in the Wizarding World. I don’t think anyone’s identities should be stripped from them, even if it’s a popular headcanon amongst the fandom and not canon.

Almost all of my OCs, even the ones that are not main characters, either are neurodivergent or have a disability and it plays a major role in their life because mental & chronic illnesses truly are that way. I myself am neurodivergent and chronically ill and I wanted more representation for people in these communities. It also doesn’t help that so many of the characters in the actual books/movies are obviously mentally ill and the “creator” (I will not say her name unless I’m ranting about how much I don’t like her) did not shine light onto how to help people with depression, anxiety, PTSD, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, or any other mental illness.

I am also very anti Dumbledore and Snape and that’s prevalent in the fanfic as well. In my opinion, neither are good people, they are both very morally grey in a way that I cannot support (I say this because Mattheo Riddle is morally grey and I love him). I am a Percy Weasley supporter though and I hope people can understand why in my interpretation of him (he’s still very much like his canon self).

Oh, and most of the characters in my fanfic are LGBTQ+, including almost all of my OCs. In the Golden Trio era of the story there’s actually a friend group one of the main characters of that gen that’s only queer characters, from all four houses. That friend group holds a very special place in my heart because I’m sort of inspired by my hometown friend group.

I wanted my fanfic to have a heavier focus on characters that either didn’t not get enough attention in the movies or books or haven’t really in the fandom, such as: Oliver Wood, Emmeline Vance, Xenophilius Lovegood, Edgar Bones, Emma Vanity, Lucinda Talkalot, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Charlie Weasley, and Adrian Pucey. Fan favorites such as the Marauders, Fred & George Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Cedric Diggory, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, Regulus Black, and the Valkyries make an appearance or are central to this story.

I began writing this fanfiction in 2020, which was when I first watched the movies (I am not a Draco girly though and missed out on most of Dracotok), so my interpretation on some of these characters may be different than most of the Marauders fandom. Over time, I have tried to include different pieces of the fandom’s headcanons on the Marauders era characters (and Theo), but it’s still not the same because it’s my interpretation.

Some point soon I plan on posting a list of every character that appears in the fanfiction, which is nowhere near finished because my mind hops between the four gens whenever I write 😂, and I will be categorizing them by their Hogwarts houses.

I am very excited to introduce you all to the family of women in this story, their friends, and their love interests as well as explaining the lore of this Pureblood house that is not part of the Sacred 28.

[demonmary]

miss nothing, miss everything

hello! i wrote this in a complete feral blackout after seeing this post about gracefreak hbo claire by @hollywoodbabylondean and today was the perfect day to polish it up and get it posted to celebrate 1k followers for @mrcowboydeanwinchester with some love for the blonde girlie claire! i hope you all enjoy <3

Everything fucking sucks. It’s too cold outside; it’s a hundred hellish degrees inside her motel room (or at least half of it - the side with the bed seems to fluctuate between approximately boiling and absolute zero, but the kitchenette is perma-locked at Floridian-Summer, disgusting humidity included); the last six convenience stores that Claire has hit up haven’t had the twizzlers that she wants, let alone a decent fucking hot meal. She still feels guilty dining and dashing at a real restaurant, especially since these small-town waitresses always do that thing where they decide that Claire needs saving and spend the whole meal trying to get her to open up, so it just feels cruel when she inevitably runs out the back and leaves ’em with the bill.  

The hunting is good, at least - if nothing else is.  

[finish on a03 or continue below]

There are angels everywhere, really. If a girl knows where to look. And then once she’s looked there and acted the wide-eyed, helpless little runaway part until the scene’s been played out and her pretty little blade has found its mark? Well, that’s when Claire really shines.  

Remnants of last night’s kill are still thrumming underneath her skin, but despite the swirling dregs of it, she craves more. She always does. 

It’s been nearly a decade since she’s had a proper fix, since she was everything and nothing and full of a God that she doesn’t believe in. Nearly a decade since the angel Castiel tore its frozen claws through Claire’s flesh, and she was all of it; all of the heavenly host was her and she was it; a Godless angel, something holy and full of a freezing cold light that burned with its nothingness and its everything. 

But then - then it was gone.  

For a while, Claire was lost.  

Not that she’s found now, but she’s looking. And she finds.  

She finds old churches with their rotting pews and unlocked doors - always unlocked - and she finds herself a dry spot to sit. She folds her hands up real good, the way she was taught, and she closes her eyes real tight. Her story changes, but she never begs. Can’t. Her pride won’t let her.  

Despite her lack of desperation, they come. Sometimes two or three in a week.  

Angels have the power to be all-knowing. All it would take is a single thread of grace woven in through Claire’s brain to see her true intentions, but having that kind of power makes them trusting.  

It doesn’t even see her, it sees the last hundred pathetic and whining prayers it has answered, and it is weak for it. 

Claire hides her angel blade in her jacket, tucked close to her heart. After an especially good fix, Claire swears she can feel it beating with her, some sort of extension of herself.  

The angels always come with a vessel, though. Some poor father or mother or daughter or son plucked out of suburbia and dropped in front of Claire, promising salvation. If they could really offer it, Claire might take them up on it, but she knows the truth. Knows God doesn’t give a fuck about her, and if He did, she’d be no better off.  

So, the angel appears, shoulders pushed back into a soldier’s stance, no matter how unnatural it looks in the body it’s stolen; no matter how at odds with its cooing, careful voice, crafted to appeal to the damaged young girl it thinks it sees standing there. So, the angel appears, and it offers salvation and instead finds its end at the tip of Claire’s blade.  

She calls them kills, but she never kills an innocent. The stupidity of someone else’s faith is none of Claire’s business and part of her doesn’t think they deserve the second chance, but she gives it to them anyway. She carves the angel out of them and takes it into herself, a careful, cleansing inhale.  

And Claire is something again, if only for the time that the grace burns within her. At least, she's not nothing, and that's gotta count for something.