#i've been delighted by all your comments so far!

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

wedding. l Joel Miller

Summary: something unusual happened in Jackson

Warnings: mostly fluff, but also a little bit of angst, alcohol; Ellie, Tommy, Maria - appear there; reader feels insecure, mention of pregnancy

A/N: I like writing this series, it's comfortable for me. I think I've mentioned this before. I hope it makes someone smile too.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Joel smoothed his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked really decent, although he felt stupid at the same time. There were quiet noises behind the closed bathroom door, after a moment it opened and in the reflection of the mirror he saw you coming out wearing the dress he liked so much. He smiled to himself as your eyes met.

"You look good." You said, walking over to him and adjusting his collar.

"Not as good as you. Do we really have to go there?" You rolled your eyes "We could go somewhere together. You, me and your dress."

You patted his shoulder, amused "It's Shane's wedding. We should be there. Can you help me zip it up?"

You turned around and Joel deftly zipped up your dress, taking the opportunity to kiss the base of your neck. It was a beautiful day, and even if Joel thought the wedding was a stupid idea, he didn't want to ruin anyone's mood. Especially not you. 

A few weeks passed. You slowly made your way outside of Jackson, with Joel or Shane. What happened to you was slowly becoming a bad memory, and you never asked Joel what happened that day when the door separated you both, and Maria walked you home.

You didn't have to ask, you knew. Joel had kept you safe in the way he thought was necessary. His family had to be safe, and you were definitely a part of it.

He felt really good as you walked together to the orchard where flowers adorned the trees, and Shane and Ann decided to join in matrimony. The priest, an older man who had been in Jackson for a few years, was preparing for the ceremony as you took your seats somewhere in the back. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Ellie, who sat down on the other side with her friends, waved at you and raised her thumbs up to show that she liked your dress.

The excitement grew with every minute, weddings in Jackson were rare, and every resident knew Shane and wanted to accompany him at such a moment.

"She looks so beautiful..." you sighed as Ann, in a modest but beautiful white dress, stood with Shane in front of the priest. Her blonde hair flowed in waves down her back, and you saw total delight in her eyes.

Joel tilted his head to murmur in your ear "Mhmm, but not like you."

You nudged him lightly in the side. "Have you ever been married, Joel?" you asked without taking your eyes off what was happening in front of you.

He was silent for a moment, but finally spoke up "A long time ago, and for a very short time."

"I'm sorry."

"No need. I practically forgot about it." he replied, and when you looked at him he smiled slightly "These things happen."

"Yeah, you're probably right." You smiled too, although there was a bit of contemplation in it, and after a moment you looked back at Shane and Ann "I hope it won't happen to them. Especially since Ann... Shit."

Now you had Joel's full attention on you. And although you weren't looking at him, you felt that his brown eyes were glued to you with curiosity.

"What do you know?" he asked in a whisper, because you were still surrounded by many Jackson residents.

"Nothing." You answered far too quickly and too nervously.

"You know something. Tell me."

You bit your lip to hide your smile. Finally, however, you looked at him again and came closer to whisper in his ear "Ann's pregnant. Shane told me on the last patrol. They're so excited."

Joel mumbled something, but you didn't pay attention to it anymore. You didn't notice the strange shadow that appeared in his eyes, because the guests started clapping, and Shane and Ann kissed, thus officially becoming a married couple.

The Tipsy Bison looked different than usual. Fresh flowers were on every table, the space seemed brighter and more festive. The buzz of conversation and laughter mixed with the music, and the clinking of cutlery and glasses meant that everyone was having a great time. Joel and Tommy decided to check out the bottle of whiskey that Shane had placed on their table, and you took Maria's son into your arms so she could eat in peace.

"I feel guilty that you're here and not there." The woman mumbled as she put food on her plate. "Tommy should be watching his son. What are they even doing?"

"Leave it, it's not a problem. I love this guy." You kissed the chubby hand of the boy who was sitting on your lap and cooing happily. "This roast chicken is delicious."

"You convinced me!" she put on a chicken leg and took a sip of juice "I'm glad this wedding happened. People need positive moments like this."

"Yeah. I had the impression that the whole of Jackson was living for this wedding." you laughed.

You gossiped for a moment, stopping every now and then to greet someone who came to your table. Maria managed to eat in peace and even reached for a second helping. The baby in your arms played with spoons, and the music drew more and more people to the dance floor.

"Oh!" Maria suddenly straightened up and frowned. "It's her again."

"Who?" you asked, not really paying attention to anything, because Tommy's son had just decided to bite your fingers off.

"Hazel."

You turned around and noticed a slender brunette standing near Joel and Tommy. Her gaze was clearly fixed on the older Miller. Something twisted in your stomach. 

Hazel had arrived in Jackson a few months ago along with a few other people. She quickly settled in and started working at a local store. That was probably where she noticed Joel. You had seen her start a conversation with him or approach him around Jackson a few times.

"Tommy said it was weird that so many things were breaking in her house." Maria mumbled. "And she always asks Joel to help her with it."

"Yeah, I know that." you replied, Hazel's hand squeezed Joel's shoulder. "Maybe... Oh my!"

The glass of juice tipped over, Maria's son must have tried to catch it while you were talking, and it spilled on your dress. The woman quickly stood up and took the little one from you, scolding him a little and at the same time trying to apologize to you.

"Don't worry, it's nothing." You replied, trying to wipe it with a napkin. "It's just juice and just a dress."

"But you looked so pretty in it!" Maria groaned. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry, really, it's nothing."

However, it was a lie, not a big one, but still. When you approached Joel a moment later, you felt very insecure. Hazel looked beautiful, and you had a huge stain from the juice on your dress. Maria quickly pulled Tommy away and pushed his babbling son into his arms.

"Hi. Nice dress." Hazel gave you a charming smile.

"Thank you." You mumbled uncertainly, and after a moment you felt Joel's gaze on you.

"Oh, what happened?" he asked "Do you want to go home and change?"

You shook your head. "No, it's just juice. Your nephew was a little careless, it'll dry soon."

The wet fabric stuck to your body unpleasantly, but you didn't want to show it. You realized that if Hazel wasn't standing next to you, you wouldn't even care, but now...

"I was just telling Joel that the washing machine in my house started making some strange noises. He promised to come over and take a look at it." Hazel smiled at you, "It's good to have someone with such talented hands around."

"Yes, indeed." you replied.

Joel's attention was drawn by Shane, who was determined to push another bottle of whiskey into his hands. For a moment, you and Hazel were silent, only exchanging polite smiles.

"How are you feeling in Jackson? I think you've settled in." You finally spoke up, and Hazel nodded.

"Yeah, it's a big change. But people are really friendly here, you know. And what do you do?"

"Patrols. Getting supplies. Stuff like that."

"It's good that you're helping Joel."

You felt awkward, but you plastered a smile on your face. "Right."

When Joel came back to you, Hazel's hand rested on his shoulder again, and a charming smile appeared on her pretty face. "So can I count on you? Will you come over tomorrow and check out the washing machine?"

The man nodded. "Sure, I'll come."

"Great. I'll make your favorite coffee."

This was beyond you and you quickly retreated towards the exit. The evening was warm and many people were spending it outdoors. Mr. Russo greeted you with a smile, and Rory ran around with the other kids.

"Running home already, huh?" Shane's voice almost made you jump.

"I needed some fresh air." You replied. "You look amazing, and your wife... Good luck to you both."

"Thank you." He took a sip from his glass. "You're not worried about this Hazel thing, are you? She's got her eye on Joel, but he's totally into you."

"You think so?"

Shane looked at you carefully. He knew you really well, trusted you, and knew how hard you'd been through, so your insecurity was painful for him.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

You sighed and folded your arms tightly over your chest. "I don't know. I don't remember feeling like this before... Sometimes I think I'm too weak... That maybe I'm not good at anything, at relationships, you know."

"Bullshit!" Shane hissed "I've been watching you and Joel for ages, you're made for each other."

"Please..."

"No, I'm telling you the truth! This guy would burn the world down for you, without hesitation. He'll fight for you, and you'll do anything for him too. Ask anyone you want."

"And Joel told you that?" you scoffed, but Shane just smiled.

"The world's biggest grump? Please! But I have eyes and I can see." He spread his arms "Come here."

You approached and Shane hugged you tightly. "I'm glad you're here with us. We're all happy."

"Thank you, Shane."

Someone cleared their throat behind you and patted Walsh on the back.

"I'd like to remind you that you're married, and she's here with me."

A warm feeling crept into your heart as you saw Joel standing behind you. His brown eyes looked at you with tenderness and attention.

"Everything okay?" he asked, Shane tapped him on the shoulder and disappeared inside "You left so suddenly."

"I'm okay." You smiled slightly "And you? How's Hazel and her washing machine doing."

Joel raised an eyebrow. "Is someone jealous? Honey, her washing machine can boil her clothes, I don't give a damn." His arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you in, kissing your temple. "Ready to go back or do you still want some cake?"

"Let's go back. I'd like to get out of this wet dress." You groaned.

"I'd love to help you with that."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[shivunin]

tell me more about Arianwen and Zev im starving i need more stuff about them please

💖why, thank you so much for asking!!! c:

I was going to start by summarizing his reaction to her at the ambush where they first meet, but here's the paragraph instead lol:

Just when Zevran was beginning to get the upper hand, a wave of lightning coursed through him, causing his hand to convulse around the dagger��s hilt. The Warden filled the opening, gripping his shoulder and driving her blade into his chest. When he fell away from her, she smiled—a shockingly lovely smile—and turned away from him without another glance. The others—the hound, the second Warden, the witch—they were formidable. But only she was grace given form, spinning aside to avoid blows and arrows she should not have been able to dodge. She knocked one assassin to the ground, using the force of his fall to rip the arrow from his shoulder, and spun to drive the arrow into another Crow’s eye. When a distant archer, shaking with exertion, loosed an arrow in the Warden’s direction, she simply twisted away and snatched a throwing knife from her belt. It was all one turn—dodge, grasp, throw—executed perfectly, and a throwing knife sprouted from the neck of the distant archer.  Perhaps he should not find such a thing so alluring. But—as he gasped around the hole in his chest—Zevran supposed he might as well appreciate such killing beauty while he still had eyes to do it. It was not such a bad way to go, all things told. It was with that thought that his eyes drifted closed and he finally slumped to the ground.

Arianwen is very fast and good at lockpicking, but not great at sneaking. Zevran offers to teach her how to be stealthy while they're in the Brecilian Forest. The physical touch, watching him do the thing he is best at, and actually listening to him intently are what first make her first feel attraction to him. (and watching him move, of course. Wen is fascinated by movement)

She thinks Zevran is doing a bit whenever he tells her she's beautiful. When she buys Morrigan that hand mirror, it's the second time Arianwen's looked at her own reflection in the last decade (the first time was on her wedding day, of course). It's not something that bothers her really---beautiful is just for other people---but it's not until Zev tells her that he likes the way she looks that she starts to feel comfortable looking at herself

Sometimes she assassinates people on Alistair's behalf (not because he's asked her to, to be clear). Whenever she leaves for this, Zev dresses up as her and all the Wardens pretend she's been at Vigil's Keep the whole time.

Arianwen is an absolute starfish sleeper. If they're in the same bed, she's wrapped around Zevran. If she wakes up in the middle of the night and they've rolled apart, she'll drag his arm over her before she can fall asleep again (or vice versa)

And hey, since I don't have anywhere to put it, here's the deleted opening scene of "Only Ghosts," before Arianwen leaves Zevran behind in Orzammar:

Much as Wen hated to admit it, the dwarf was right: she knew nothing about the Deep Roads, or the tunnels, or any of the rest. She needed someone who knew what they were doing, and nobody fit the bill except this…person. 

“Give me a moment,” she told the others, and brushed Zev’s fingertips with her own, stepping back toward the busy market with its louder cries and bustle of people. 

“Come now, my dear Warden,” he said quietly once they were alone, setting one hand on his hip and the other on his sword hilt “You cannot leave me in Orzammar, of all places. I will wilt from lack of the sun and then where will you be?”

“I don’t have a choice,” she told him, crossing her arms. “I can’t leave Wynne or one of us will die of something ridiculous, like a cold or an infection.”

“You cannot leave the dwarf?” Zevran said, leaning closer and dipping his head; neither of them needed to say that Alistair would have to come with her. They both knew it was a given by now. 

“And find our way how?” Wen asked quietly. “Have you been in the Deep Roads, Zevran?” 

His eyes narrowed, but the expression only lasted a moment. 

“You are determined to do this?” he said quietly. 

Somehow that was worse. She’d rather he argue with her. She liked arguing far more than resignation—really, it would have been better if he’d given her a reason to take him along. She wanted to leave him behind about as much as he wanted to be left.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s the only way.” 

Zevran’s eyes flicked behind her, scanning for any watchers, and then he stepped in and rested a hand on her shoulder. It would be a poor idea to seem soft over each other in public; they both knew that. So Zevran didn’t kiss her mouth. Instead, he leaned in as if speaking into her ear and brushed his lips over her cheek, the kiss a whisper of a touch. 

“I know you will be bereft without me,” he said, tone uncertain beneath the light words. “Try not to pine too much, yes? Come back, mi vida. I will not be there to watch your back, you understand? Use your crossbow if there are too many—”

“I know how to fight,” Arianwen told him, not without affection, and pressed a kiss of her own to the base of his ear. He smelled like leather and sweat and she—she didn’t want to leave him behind. 

There was no choice. 

“I have to go. Blight won’t wait for us. We don’t have time left to waste.”

His grip on her shoulder lasted a moment longer before he stepped away, his face wiped clean of any emotion save casual amusement. 

“I will see you soon, then, my Warden,” he said, bowing with a flourish, and then he turned and disappeared into the marketplace beyond. 

Wen watched him for a moment longer, exhaling slowly, before she turned back to the others. 

“Cute little scene, heh,” the dwarf said as they stepped into the tunnels. “You and that other elf f—”

“Here’s something fun I just learned,” Arianwen said, fingering the hilt of her dagger. “Turns out you still need a tongue to taste ale, but folk are perfectly capable of giving directions without any tongue at all.”

Whatever the man had intended to say, he kept it to himself. 

Which was for the best, because Wen had left all her patience in the marketplace behind them.

[saints-who-never-existed]

This is such an interesting question that I've pondered many times myself! I'm always fascinated by the potential influence that accents and geographical origins can have on character and narrative in general.

Tozer is an excellent example so I'm glad you mentioned him.

In real life, he came originally from Somerset in the West Country which has its own distinct and lovely accent. In the book, as most other working-class characters do, he speaks like a plucky Dickensian orphan (don't even get me started on that particular choice!). And of course in the show, he has a Scouse accent because David Walmsley happens to have a Scouse accent.

All of those men - the Southerner, the Scouser and the Somerset lad- would see and move through the world differently based on where they happened to grow up within it and that idea just fascinates me!

In answer to your questions:

Accents in the UK today are still often very strong and distinct, generally speaking. Where I'm from, you can often hear clear differences in speech from people who live in towns only a few miles apart.

I imagine that these differences may well have been even stronger back in the day when it would've been much more common for people, especially poorer people, to live all their lives in the town where they were born/their local area.

But, then again, that is less likely to have been the case, I think, for sailors and other professions who had reason to travel more widely.

To the best of my knowledge, there wouldn't have been a 'widespread "working class" accent/dialect' in the way you describe but I do expect there would've been a certain softening and flattening out of individual accents happening in that sort of environment. A ship wouldn't be able to function very well, after all, if the men aboard her couldn't find a way to communicate clearly with each other, to make themselves understood and to understand others in turn.

Thinking thoughts about Tozers thick accent and by extent asked myself: Was it a thing back in Victorian England that regional accents/dialects were so pronounced that you couldn't understand one another? I mean Scottish always has been it's own beast I guess but apart from that?

I know that up until WW2 regional accents/dialects in Germany were VERY distinct, you had to learn "high german" (modern standard german) at school, your dialect WAS your mother tongue (I mean southern dialects are still a big deal today, if you go to the rural areas dont ask me what they're saying bc I have no idea that's between them and god)

So was it really like,, 130 men crammed together on a ship barely being able to understand one another or was there more of a widespread "working class" accent/dialect being spoken that ppl learned over time? I mean ofc they could understand commands and ship lingo but the rest??

[yawnderu]

A/N: We made it to 3k less than a month after I reached 2k followers 🥺<3!!

I was genuinely not expecting this when I first made my account, but so far I've gotten so much support and I've met so many lovely people. I'm always reading your comments and reblogs, you mfs are hilarious JFEHJBFEHJB💕Onto the nasty sinful monkey sex now.

Synopsis: tired of working a dead-end job with no rewards, your childhood best friend offers you a job at his company, promising the stress levels are minimal and the pay is good. You accept with no second thoughts, not realizing you were tricked into becoming a stress relief toy for his men.

CW: humiliation, hard sex, gangbang, double vaginal, triple penetration, unsafe sex, creampie, 14 vs 1, cum swallowing, bukkake, spit kink, cockdrunk reader, deepthroat, handjobs, size kink, watersports.

Being a commander who saw his soldiers as family, Graves knew he always had to watch out for his men, reward them for their hard work and loyalty, and what better way to do that than with a sweet little thing like you? Their own personal stress relief toy, who was tricked into taking a job at the Shadow Company, yet so willing to please. So eager.

"You're enjoying this more than you should." He's teasing you, of course, yet his cocky expression does nothing to help the pooling warmth on your stomach. One of the shadows is sitting behind you, gloved hands hooked under your knees to keep your legs open while Graves grinded his clothed boner on your bare cunt, the fabric feeling almost painful if it wasn't for how wet you are.

"Maybe I am." You manage to reply, barely able to speak between whiny moans and soft gasps, his cock rubbing in all the right places, but the stimulation wasn't enough. No, he had been teasing you like this for the past 20 minutes, making his men watch as you became a putty mess in his hand. The shadows were men of discipline and self-control, keeping their hands folded politely behind their backs, ignoring their painful, throbbing cocks until their commander allowed them to use their brand new chew toy.

"I want you to know," He began, hand slipping under your chin firmly to force you to look up at him, hard cock rubbing faster up and down your cunt, pressing into you harder. "That I ain't playin' with you, Stray. My men will do anythin' I tell them to. Last chance to pull out." He warned and you shook your head no, his cocky smile growing even wider as his other hand went to squeeze your tit, looking for any signs of discomfort and much to his delight, seeing none.

"I can take it." The words are more of a reassurance to yourself, gaze drifting around the room and counting the men inside. 14, including Graves. You swallow thickly, nervous eyes drifting back to Graves, who simply raises an eyebrow in return, waiting for you to realize just how fucked up you are if you don't pull out.

"I can take it." You repeat, slowly believing the words more and more. He simply smiles and ruffles your hair affectionately, the same way he always did growing up.

"Attagirl." He pulled away from you and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, knowing you'll do a good job for him. He nods to his men and they quickly get to work, hands groping you all over, long fingers entering your cunt roughly to the point you're becoming nothing but a whiny, whimpering mess. They're rough and impatient, your wrists being grabbed and forced onto their hard cocks until you're willingly jerking them off, hands barely able to wrap around their thick lengths. It's intimidating, yet so hot to be locked in a room full of hormonal, pent-up military men.

"On your knees." One of them commands, yet you're forced on your knees before you can even try to get up. Four cocks are in front of you and you begin sucking with no hesitation, eyes closing as you give into your role at the company. Your lips wrap around one of them, slowly taking him deeper until he gets too impatient and forces your head down to the base, the gagging noises your throat lets out simply making it feel better.

"Good girl." You don't even know who's praising you, but it's enough to give you the encouragement you needed, starting to bob your head up and down until you're pulled off the cock, a new one being shoved down your throat. They're using you— you know it, and you're letting them. You get passed around, tasting and sucking on different dicks while your hands keep themselves busy, deep moans and groans coming from above you. They get too impatient quick, the man you recognize as Oz wrapping his fingers on your hair, pulling on it until you willingly get up, throwing you into bed and opening your legs wide with brutal force. You look down, eyes widening as you see just jow thick he is.

"You said you could take it, ain't that right?" He uses your words against you, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your folds, your head dropping back as a moan escapes your lips. That's all he needs for confirmation, hands firmly holding the curve of your waist before he buries his cock to the hilt in one thrust. A pained moan escapes your lips, eyebrows furrowing as your nails dig into his arm— the pretty, long acrylic nails Graves paid for earlier that day.

"Shit... S‐slow down, asshole." The way you struggle to take him is almost cute, a cocky smirk pulling on his lips as he shakes his head no once, holding onto you tighter while he slams in and out of you. You don't have much room to complain before another cock is being shoved into your face, your lips willingly wrapping around the tip, hollowing your cheeks while your tongue circles all over it. Your whiny moans are muffled as you slowly begin to suck more and more, the pleasure of being groped all over and being fucked good slowly getting rid of any hints of regret you may have.

"Fucking slut." Oz says, hand coming up to gently pinch and pull on your nipples while he fucks into you faster. All you can do is nod, tears dotting your eyelashes at the mix of pain and pleasure, using the cock in your mouth to cover up the embarrassing sounds escaping you from being a used like a whore. Your body is manhandled into another position, a different shadow underneath you who wastes no time on fucking into your cunt, filling you just as much as Oz was. Your hands are kept busy jerking off more cocks while your mouth is put into good use again, muffling the moan of protest that threatens to escape when you feel the tip of a dick teasing the entrance of your ass.

"Wait—" You manage to speak when the shadow takes his cock out of your throat to give you time to breathe, only to be interrupted by your throat being forced open again. You close your eyes tightly, trying your best to relax, the folds of your tight hole slowly being eased, the man is being surprisingly gentle for someone who holds so much power over you.

"Good girl." He praises softly, voice deep with desire, yet holding so much care. His hand gently caresses your ass as he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust before his hands rest on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock, the thin layer of skin diving your ass and cunt making the pleasure even greater. It doesn't take much before you're willingly slamming your hips down, moving in your own pace and fucking yourself into the big cocks inside you like a greedy whore, too eager to wait.

"Lovely girl, ain't she?" You can recognize Grave's voice, choosing to ignore it for now as you simply focus on feeling good. It doesn't take long until the men are taking turns with you, wet cunt leaking everywhere, yet none of them seem to care. You wince as you feel a second cock on the entrance of your pussy, nervous, yet eager to please. You don't even have to lift your head to know whose cock it is— fucking Phillip Graves. The man who got you into this situation on the first place... which you're now glad happened.

He's surprisingly gentle as he squeezes his cock into your airtight hole, the pain of the stretch only being overpowered by the feeling of a cock slamming back into your throat, nose hitting dark, curly pubes every single time the masked man makes you deepthroat him. Your whiny moans are mixed in with the lewd, wet sounds of your holes being used and abused. You lost count of how many times you were filled, mind too hazy from all the overstimulation, yet you can register the door closing behind them, leaving you alone with Graves.

''Attagirl.'' He praises, his hand running down the length of your sweaty hair as his soft cock settles into your cum-stained lips, half-lidded eyes looking up at him with curiosity. Your mouth is suddenly filled with a warm liquid and you swallow without thinking about it, eyes closing once he's done pissing into your slutty mouth. He slowly pulls out, putting his cock back in his pants and admiring the mess his men did of your body, covered in cum and small bruises from their strong hold when they were fucking you.

''I got another job for ya. Ever heard of the 141?''

[supercap2319]

A/N: This could be given as a sequel to my last Fiyero Tigelaar fic.

: readmore:

Y/N watched as Fiyero approached him, Galinda hot at his heels. The Winkie prince gave him an easy going smile. This adorable little bookworm would soon be his. Fiyero thought to himself. There wasn't a person alive who could resist him once he turned up the charm.

“Hello, there.” Fiyero wiggled his fingers as Y/N shut his book and laid it down, giving Fiyero an annoyed look. “Hello.” Y/N’s greeting was about as warm and welcoming as a winter frost. Fiyero didn't seem to mind or notice as he gave a small bow. “You're Y/N, correct?”

“Yes, that's correct.”

“Well, allow me to introduce myself. I am Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie–”

“–I don't really give a damn who you are.” Y/N said.

The whole student body shared a collective gasp of shock. They had watched as Fiyero approached Y/N, only for the Upland boy to reject him. What was wrong with Y/N? Even Galinda was appalled by her brother's actions. “Y/N, how can you be so rude?” She admonished. “Fiyero is new here, and you're…you're…”

“You're a breath of fresh air.” Fiyero smiles.

“What?!” Everyone asked. Even Y/N was shocked by the Prince's unbothered attitude of how Y/N addressed him. Fiyero nods and smiles. “Yes, a breath of fresh air if you will. I've been to many schools to get swarmed by people who only say things that I wanna hear. It's refreshing to have someone have their own opinion for once. Tell me, Y/N. What are you doing out here?”

“Reading?” Y/N held up his book. “I trust you've seen one before. Or know how to read.”

Once again, Fiyero laughed as if Y/N’s snide comments didn't bother him in the slightest. Galinda gave an awkward chuckle as well. How could Fiyero be so nonchalant about being insulted? Especially his intelligence. “Well, I suppose I've never had a penchant for reading , but perhaps I haven't been introduced to the right book to captivate my attention.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Why don't you show me to your local library? I'm sure I could find something there with your help.” Fiyero smiles. His blue eyes were dancing with mischief and fun. Before Y/N could tell Fiyero to go jump off a cliff, Galinda stepped in. “Oh, we would be certainly delighted to show you around. Wouldn't we, Y/N?” Her smile was tight, and anything other than a ‘yes’ from Y/N would make Galinda upset.

Y/N sighed and stood up, trying to ignore the triumph smirk Fiyero was giving him at the moment. He began walking towards the Shiz building, not checking to see if Fiyero. “The library is this way, Prince Twinkie.” He continues towards the building as Galinda pulls a smirking Fiyero along. Oh, he was going to like this little bookworm.

They walked into the library, where Y/N spotted his dear friend, Elphaba, and waved as Galinda gave Fiyero a tour of someplace she's never even stepped into before. It was kind of hilarious to watch as Galinda addressed all around. “And this is the book place. There's a collection of rare books around here somewhere. And some medium rare as well.”

“He's looking for a book, sis. Not a steak.” Y/N said.

Fiyero chuckles. “Well, there's certainly many to choose from. What would you recommend, Y/N? A good adventure book? Perhaps something with a little bit of fun?”

“How about a book on the studies of why some people act brainless?” Y/N suggested.

“Tell me. What do you do for fun around here?” Fiyero ignored Y/N’s jab, and walked closer to the other male, smirking at him. Did this guy always have to smile at everything? “You ever been to the Ozdust Ballroom?”

“The Ozdust Ballroom? Are you insane?” Y/N asked.

Galinda gets in between them. “I mean, isn't that place somewhat illegal?” She looks around to make sure no one is listening before whispering. “And scandalocious?”

Fiyero nods. “Yeah, it is both of those things. Yeah. It's also not far from here, which is another plus.” Fiyero said as Boq, the Munchkin boy, trips and drops some of his books into the floor. Fiyero stifles a laugh as he looks down at him. “Whoa. You all right?”

Boq grunts as Y/N helps him up. “Yeah.”

“I'm Fiyero Tigelaar.” He looks at Y/N and winks. “Winkie Country.”

“Oh, Oz.” Y/N and Galinda both say for different reasons. Boq stood up. “Boq Woodsman.” He gets on a stack of books to be at the same height as Fiyero. “Of Munchkinland.” Galinda grabs Fiyero's arm and leads him away from Boq. Great. Excuse me. Good to know. Um, what were you saying again about the Ozdust and fun and you and me?”

“I was thinking of inviting you, and your brother to the Ozdust tonight.” Fiyero said.

“Unfortunately, it's against Shiz rules to go into town after dark. Sorry, Prince Twinkie.” Y/N said, but he didn't sound very sorry about it. Fiyero didn't seem to mind though. “I see that, once again, the responsibility to corrupt my fellow students…” He puts his arms around both Y/N and Galinda as she gasps. Y/N rolled his eyes. “...falls to me. Excuse me.” He grabs a book from a nearby girl, and he accidentally drops it to the floor. Y/N bends down to pick it up, but Fiyero puts a black riding boot on top of it. Y/N looks up as Fiyero shakes his head no.

“The trouble with schools is…” Fiyero began.

“Not a damn song.” Y/N whispered to himself. It seemed like everyone at this school could sing and dance like some sort of musical theater show you'd hear about in the Emerald city. Not in the Shiz library. “They always try to teach the wrong lesson.” Fiyero throws a book over his shoulders, and it lands with a thud. “Believe me, I've been kicked out of enough of them to know.”

Y/N believed that. Fiyero did seem like the type to cause so much mischief and chaos at the schools he previously attended, that they had no choice but to kick his ass out. “They want you to become less callow, less shallow. But I say, why invite stress in? Stop studying strife. And learn to live the unexamined life.” Fiyero easily charmed the librarian as he winked at Y/N, showing off. “Dancing through life. Skimming the surface Gliding where turf is smooth.” He gets on the table and in a very proactive pose starts to jumble around another student's head. Life's more painless for the brainless. Why think too hard, when it's so soothing? Dancing through life. No need to tough it. When you can slough it off as I do.”

The young Upland boy watched as Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country, start a whole musical number inside the library.

[suckerforcate]

making my first emily request, not read much of it yet bc i'm worried about spoilers and i'm only on season 4 (tbf have fucking blasted through it so far, watching multiple eps a day).

emily/reader, reader is hotch's little sister who isn't part of the bau but works with them occasionally. hotch Does Not Know about her and em. unclear if he even knows she's gay. any other details of it are up to you bestie, i trust you 💚

Segreto Piccolo

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1336

Warning: I think none?

Summary: Emily and you had been dating for a few months and now you're brother had found out (set around season 3 or 4)

A/n: OK, so this is the first time I've ever written for Em. I hope it's okay? Hope it's not too ooc. Would be delighted by a comment or repost!!! <3

■----------------------------------------■

“Come on, babe. He won’t rip your head off.” You nearly whined and gave Emily the best puppy eyes you could manage. You’d been dating her for a few months now, it was all still very fresh, but you really liked her. A lot.

Your brother, Aaron Hotchner, was the Unit Chief of the BAU and sometimes brought you in for cases. You worked as a children’s psychiatrist and had turned out to be very helpful on cases involving children. In any form, as victims, as witnesses and as UnSubs. On one of those cases, you had met Emily Prentiss. Truth be told, she had caught your eye immediately, but it had taken you three more cases to actually ask her out. She was amazing, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. She was smart and quick-witted, an amazing Profiler, adorable with kids and really funny. And after you had started dating you had learned that she loved with all she had. And it was wonderful.

Except for one thing. She was afraid of telling your brother. Emily hadn’t been on the team for long, and now she hooked up with his baby sister? He’d kill her. Or at least that’s what she assumed. She didn’t know Aaron like you did. He could be stoic and serious at work, but he was a sweetheart and a wonderful brother. He loved you and all he wanted was you to be happy. He might need some time adjusting, but he could never be mad for long.

“He’ll kill me, Tesoro. He’s only just warmed up to me.” She grumbled and you knew that was true. Her start on the team had been a bit bumpy. The whole situation was ridiculous. The two of you were cramped in about the smallest room in the whole building. A little storage room. You could feel some sort of utensils press into your spine, and you saw a box of pencils just over Emily’s shoulder. All in all, ridiculous to talk about something like this, at work, while hiding.

“No, he will not, Emily.” You pressed on, your hand still on her hip. Truthfully it didn’t really have anywhere else to go in this cramped space. “It might shock him a bit, but he’ll come around. Please, Em. You know how important Aaron is to me. I want him to know.” You explained what you had explained at least five times before and again gave her puppy dog eyes she rarely could refuse.

You could see her melt under your gaze and just as she wanted to answer the door to the small room opened, and you were faced with your brother’s usual serious expression. His expression didn’t change much, but you could see a subtle twitch of his eyes. His eyes wandered from you to Emily and back to you again. “Office. Both, now.” And he was gone. Emily groaned and closed her eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Em.” You tried to reassure her. You knew he’d probably be more disappointed than anything, cause you hadn’t told him. He didn’t even know you liked women. Emily let her head fall against your shoulder. “We had a nice few months, dolcezza. But I think I’m walking into my own death now.” She really had a hang for drama. Playfully you slapped her shoulder and chuckled.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Come on, babe.” You said and took her hand to lead her into your brother's office. No point in hiding it now. Besides, you had the suspicion that Penelope had known right from the start and that meant that at least Derek knew as well. And JJ was perceptive, Spencer on the other hand not so much for a Profiler. But what does it matter?

You led Emily through the bullpen and up the few steps right to Aaron’s office door. It was open, and your brother was already looking at you. No need to knock, you thought. You simply stepped inside, Emily practically needing to be dragged in there behind you. You motioned her to close the door and very reluctantly she let go of your hand to do so.

Aaron got up and rounded his desk, standing in front of you, his hands in his pockets. His features softened visibly. The way they did at work only if you were around. Or if Jack came to visit. “Why didn’t you tell me you like women?” He asked, and you saw a hint of surprise on Emily’s face in the corner of your eye. She didn’t know that he didn’t know. But contrary to what she probably believed now it hadn’t been because you were scared to come out or anything. You simply shrugged.

“I thought I’d tell you if I’ll ever get a girlfriend and then I kind of never did.” You said and looked at him a bit sheepishly. “But now I do.” You said and smiled proudly, which warmed Emily’s heart immediately and calmed her immensely. Aaron even cracked a very small smile. Then he looked at Emily at the small vanished. You grabbed Em’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“You’ve been here little more than a year and start dating my sister, Prentiss?” He said and studied Emily. You could say he was profiling her. Emily opened her mouth, no doubt to defend herself. But Aaron gave her not a second. “Remember, I’m your superior. Hurt her, and you’ll fly off this team faster than you can blink.” You had to hide a small giggle. Aaron rarely played protective brother. It was a bit funny to see almost all colour fade from Emily’s face. She interrogated Serial Killers, but your brother was too much.

“Alright, Aaron. Enough of that.” You said and drew his attention back to you. He softened a bit again and pulled you into a rare hug. No words. Just a hug. And that was enough. Then he rounded his desk and sat down again.

“You're invited for dinner on Saturday.” He said right before you were out of his office. It nearly looked comedic, the way everything in Emily’s face fell as soon as she heard him. You quickly closed the office door behind you and grabbed her hands.

Emily wasn’t the relationship type. She hadn’t had a lot of them, and they had never been very long. Or at least that’s what she had told you. She was always afraid of somehow fucking it up. You squeezed her hands until she was looking at you.

“It’ll be fine. He didn’t rip your head off now, he won’t on Saturday. And Jack will love you, which is basically the way to Aaron’s heart.” It did little to calm the brunette. She swallowed hard and nodded slowly.

“What do I wear? How do I act? Do I buy him something? Wine? I’ve never done this before, dolcezza.” She rambled, and it would have been cute if she hadn’t looked so worked up.

“You’ll wear something nice. Which you always do. I promise Aaron will just be wearing a T-shirt. You act like yourself which is the way I love you. And wine is a good idea but absolutely not necessary.” You assured her, answering one question after another. You had been so concerned about calming her that you hadn’t really thought about the exact words you had used.

“Love?” She asked a bit perplexed. Maybe it was a bit early but with Emily? How could you not love her. You grinned a bit stupidly. “Of course, you idiot.” She cracked a smile at that, and you were very thankful for that. You’d walk through hell to see that smile.

“Ti amo anch'io, tesoro.” She whispered against your lips, having leaned in. The kiss was a bit sloppy, cause you were both smiling like lovesick idiots. Which you kind of were.

“Oh my god, this is adorable!” A very excited voice called through the bullpen, unmistakably Penelope’s. Emily and you broke apart, laughing softly. You stood incredibly close to each other, hands still intertwined. Both your head turned, and you weren’t surprised to see the whole team stare at you. Most of them just smiled knowingly. Spencer looked like he had missed about twenty chapters, which her kind of had. His head turned from us to JJ next him.

“Wha-?” Everyone just laughed fondly. Everything was fine.

[vincentbriggs]

Hello! Transfem person here. I haven't started HRT yet, but want to procure a 1730s menswear suit (actually decided based on your video). I would prefer not to wait for it if possible, since I don't know when HRT is going to be possible. I am, however, a little concerned about my bust size changing and affecting the fit of the waistcoat. Is that decade usually pretty forgiving in it's tailoring? I am also considering having the upper back tie like some later waistcoats to accommodate if necessary (even if it's not entirely historical), but I figured I would ask you.

Thank you!

Hello! Ooh yay! Not enough people do early 18th century, so I'm delighted to hear that! (Link to the 1730's suit mentioned.)

I think the fit would be affected, yeah. The sides of the waistcoat are easy enough to let out (and we have extant examples of waistcoats with an extra strip of fabric added into the side seam) but the curve of the front is pretty important to how it sits on you. But then, it is fashionable in that era to leave quite a lot of the top portion unbuttoned, so maaaybe you could get away with it not fitting as well, depending on what changed and how much?

Regarding the adjustability of waistcoats, some of the earlier ones actually do have lacing in the back! This red one is an especially nice example, and it's separate all the way to the top.

(c. 1740's, V&A) (Though you also do see ones with the back hacked up and a bunch of ties that were likely added by Victorians for their fancy dress parties.)

The breeches also have adjustable waistbands, of course, so I think the hardest part to alter would be the coat. The back vent is edge to edge, so there's no overlap to sneak a bit more width out of, and letting out the side seams would require re-doing those massive pleats, which were the part I found the most difficult when making my coat. But fortunately those coats were worn open a lot of the time, so even if they're not quite right when buttoned, they should still look ok unbuttoned.

It's very difficult to predict how the fit will be affected, since HRT is different for everyone and things keep changing years down the line. (One comment on this post talks about suddenly getting more breast and hip growth after 7, 12, and 14 years.)

I only have experience from the transmasc side of things, and alas, I very much did outgrow all my old waistcoats and coats. My 1730's suit needs alterations, because the waistcoat is a bit too small, and the coat seams could use a bit of letting out too. (I made those the year after top surgery, but my ribcage kept expanding and my posture improving for quite a while.)

I've been putting it off because alterations are boring :/ My pre-top surgery waistcoats are all way too small across the chest even though material was removed, because my posture was kinda bad and I didn't even notice it, and I expect that the opposite could also lead to the same sort of better posture from more confidence & comfort.

But bodies keep changing forever anyways, even without transitioning. Plenty of cis people can't fit into the things they sewed when they were younger, so we may as well make things to fit us now. Perhaps you could make the suit now, but use a not-too-expensive fabric, and then maybe alter it later, or make a newer and better one with the experience you gained from the first one!

Also I know you specifically said menswear suit, but I want to add the fun fact that women's riding habits in this era looked extremely similar to men's suits!

(Left: Maria Amalia von Habsburg by Franz Joseph Winter, right: Member of the Van der Mersch Family by Cornelis Troost.)

As far as I can tell, the main differences are that the riding habits have a petticoat instead of breeches, and are made to fit over stays.

(Empress Elisabeth Christine in riding costume, unknown artist.)

So similar, in fact, that this portrait of a young lady in a riding habit was misidentified as a young man!

Most of the petticoat is out of frame, but you can still see that it's not beeches, and the stays shape is pretty obvious. Very silly of Sotheby's not to notice!

I have no idea if you're interested in wearing a riding habit, and I'm not sure how difficult it would be to alter the somewhat looser men's coat to fit over stays, but thought I ought to mention it.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Just something very sweet and fluffy also featuring a grumpy Eddie 🤭🥰

Requests are open 💌

❤️

Eddie had been in a bad mood from the moment he woke up. Not even the lure of a Hellfire Club session could lift his spirits.

Exactly what had made him so moody was something he couldn't pinpoint. Maybe it was to do with the dickhead who blasted pop music most of the night and interrupted his sleep a few times.

Whatever it was, he was acting like a bear with a sore head and he couldn't even see you today to take away some of his grumpiness, seeing you always brightened up his day.

You wouldn't be at school at all today, something with your aunt came up and you possibly had to go out of town for the next couple of days.

At least he could channel some of his mood into the Hellfire session tonight, maybe unleash the group of orcs on the party, a story that he had been planning for a few days.

He gets up and dressed and heads to school, his van is being a pain in the ass and his head is thumping by the time he gets there.

Things weren't any better by lunchtime and he ate his pretzels and even had a bottle of Yoo Hoo (which kinda helped but just a little bit) but it couldn't help him with the fact that he had Mrs O'Donnell's class after lunch, he's pretty sure that the old dragon has it in for him.

He was pouty and very pissed off.

"Dude, wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" Grant asks which causes Gareth to snicker beside him, one sharp look from Eddie quietens him.

"It's because you know who isn't here today, remember she has some family thing to attend" Jeff shrugs.

"Yeah, thanks, dude. Like I need reminding that I won't see my girl today and I'm fine. Just a long night and a neighbour who's obsessed with playing endlessly shitty pop music" he shudders at the memory and the dude singing. Ugh.

"Aww thought you'd be up and dancing to Madonna" Dustin teases and Eddie flicks a pretzel at him, he's more amused than annoyed though, even if he's offended by the very thought.

Then the little shit is smiling at something over Eddie's shoulder and Eddie's heart skips a beat, delight flooding through him.

"Princess!" he beams and wastes no time rushing over to you and dramatically clutching his chest. Not caring one bit about the sneers from Jason and his idiot squad, he doesn't care about his don't fuck with me facade around you, you're the only person that reduces him to mush.

"I've missed thy maiden far too much and almost succumbed to a painful case of grumpiness" you snort and cuddle into him.

"I missed you too Ed's" you wrap your arms around him and feel the tension in his body ease.

"What happened to that family thing you had?" He asks curious and you shrug.

"Yeah turns out my aunt left her douchebag husband last night so she's staying with a friend instead of us for a little bit. She's okay which is the main thing" You cuddle back into his arms needing this hug as much as he does.

"At least the grumpy asshole might cheer up now" Jeff comments but swiftly shuts up when Eddie flips him the bird. At least with his princess here the day is looking infinitely brighter.

❤️

[dragonismo]

— of lies and empty promises.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Strong! Reader.

trope: something between star-crossed lovers and friends x enemies x lovers.

synopsis: while you enjoy a pleasant afternoon together, the differences between your families begin to make their way into your friendship, giving rise to moments of discontent between both of you.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: Both Aemond and reader are young. I believe there is no more warnings. Only Aemond is a tad bit possessive, jealous, and manipulative, but is purely innocent.

an: I've had this story saved in drafts since season 1 ended, but I've been neglecting it. Now, after seeing how hot handsome Aemond looks in the season 2 trailer, my fixation is back and so is my desire to publish this. This is something like a small introduction to what I have planned, so please, if you are interested, stay tuned for the next chapters!

You and Aemond were resting under the shade of the weirwood, with the sunlight filtering through its branches and red leaves. It was the most tranquil place in the Red Keep, ideal for doing nothing but enjoying a well-deserved rest after a day full of study and sword training, and as it was a rather warm summer afternoon, the mood was truly pleasant.

"I wish every day were this peaceful," you commented as you lay on the grass. "I would spend my entire life here if I knew no one would dare bother me. Can you imagine? Just lying in the sun, with no one behind rushing us to our lessons. And so, perhaps we could spend more time together."

"As far as I am aware, no one keeps you from my company," Aemond replied as he lay down next to you, palms flat on his stomach, legs crossed.

His comment made you frown: was he playing the fool, or was he really oblivious to certain glances? While shading your eyes from the sun with one hand, you tilted your face towards him before responding. "Oh, but they do, they sure do. I bet you know it is so."

"Oh, and by whom?" he inquired with a mischievous grin, one that vanished as soon as he heard the answer to his own question.

"The Queen."

Oh now that made him roll his eyes.

It was an immediate reaction, as Aemond was more than used to hearing you refer to his mother as if she were an impediment to your friendship, being that she never raised any objection despite her own opinions regarding Rhaenyra's children.

And how could she not have them? It was more than clear to him not only the truth hidden behind his mother's suspicions, but also how they were much more than mere prejudices towards the Princess.

"As I have told you countless times before," he said, not bothering to hide the subtle hint of frustration he felt at bringing up the issue again. "My mother holds no grudge against you."

"Then maybe her face hasn't caught on," you countered. "Or have you not seen how she scowls upon seeing me?"

"Believe me, you are not the source of her complaints. Mother spends more time grumbling about your brothers than about you, and rightfully so. They are fiends. You are not to deny it."

But to you it didn't seem such a far-fetched idea. You were about to argue once more, but then suddenly refrained from voicing your own opinion on the matter. You knew Aemond's position; how he preferred to turn a deaf ear and therefore often dismissed the matter. After all, what could the Queen do? She was not going to succeed in separating you both when the King was more than delighted with your bond.

Moreover; was it really worth arguing? It would do nothing but sour things between you two, something you feared greatly, for you held Aemond in high regard.

"Do as you wish," you replied. You did not want to interrupt the peaceful mood with reminders of the many quarrels that prevailed in your family, and so as usual, you decided to remain silent and put the whole matter aside. Still, your discontent showed on your face. "I was only expressing my desire to spend each day as I do now. I wish my only duty was to lie here and take a nap."

Aemond chuckled. "I fail to see where I fit in."

"I m afraid you are too irritating to be a part of it."

"Well, that is rather unkind of you. And selfish, I would say, as I want to be included anyhow," Aemond retorted stubbornly.

As he sat now with his hands on his knees, he looked at you with a determination unbecoming of someone his age, for not even men sounded as certain when they chose their greatest pursuits. But in Aemond's eyes, at nothing but ten years old, there wasn't a hint of doubt when he said, "Every time I imagine where I wish to be, you are by my side. Even in my dreams I relish in your company. I believe it is only fair that I am part of your ambitions and yearnings too, would you not think so? I would like it that way."

"But I never asked for such a thing," you replied. "Why am I to even consider it? I want my dreams to be my own, and not shared with anyone else. Dreams are one's own thing after all. So I wonder, why share them with me?"

"Because I love you, of course," Aemond answered you without further regard. "And if you love me as much, you must include me in yours, for not to do so means our friendship is not as important to you as it is to me," he added that last bit with a hint of playfulness.

You then turned to look at him. "Not as important?"

How confusing. It should bother you to hear him claim such a thing, for after all, were you not the one who had always defended him from the ill-treatment of your brothers? Were you not the one who had shown him unconditional affection despite the growing differences between your family? Were you not the one who, even in these moments, and as hard as it was not to, had never been upset with him? For even when you were accused of loving him less or branded as egotistical, you worried that those concerns were far more than harmless banter.

"Of course I love you as much. I would say more, even."

Aemond's smile widened, as he had expected such an answer. "And yet, it is I who always has you in mind. Who loves whom the most, then?"

"Me," you wanted to say. But was love not too big a concept for such young people?

You were taken aback. Not because the answer would be disheartening, and certainly not because you doubted the extent of your affection for him, quite the opposite: for one as young as yourself, the dephts of your feelings frightened him.

Then, instead of answering his question, you sat up, wiped the dust from your hands on your robes, and with sudden curiosity asked, "And what is that dream of yours, pray tell? I reckon it is no more mind-boggling than mine, where I gorge myself in lemon tarts as I ride the Black Dread."

Aemond snickered at your comment, but his words sounded a bit too serious to be a jest when he uttered them. "Well of course it is simpler. It is just about…"

"Your highness," a voice interrupted him.

A handmaiden approached from the opening, looking somewhere between hurried and delighted, something that intrigued you as much as it annoyed Aemond, who hoped this interruption would be brief so he could resume his comment. After a bow, however, he found her words rather daunting.

"Your mother sends for you, your highness. She wishes to introduce you to a new brother," the woman announced, which caught your attention so much it made you forget all about your previous conversation with him.

"My mother, you said?" you beamed before you pushed yourself up from the ground in no time, dusted off your clothes and bade Aemond farewell with such haste he could barely make out an "excuse me" as you and the handmaiden walked away.

He watched you as you ran ahead of her, clearly excited to meet what awaited you in your mother's chambers. As for him, he remained seated under the tree for a few seconds longer, a hint of jealousy souring his smile as his brow furrowed.

What a pleasant afternoon you were having so far. And yet again, your siblings always seemed to interrupt you both, even if they were not doing so directly. Will he ever be free of the burden of kinship?

How you could choose your brothers was beyond him. Was he not the one who often amused you? He had always considered himself closer to you than Jacaerys and Lucerys, but what was it about those bastards that always pulled you away from him nonetheless? And now there was a third!

Were his concerns correct then? Did he love you more than you loved him? But no, the very idea seemed so absurd it brought a scornful laugh from him.

You would never dare choose them over him!

"Damn them," he exclaimed before standing up as well. There was no use in staying here now that he was alone.

[psylocke142]

Night of fireworks

Jihyo x fem!reader

synopsis: Colorful lights began to erupt into the night sky. You felt as if your heart burst along with each explosion in the sky. Dreading the end of the festival. This is the last summer you will spend with Jihyo before you part ways.

w/c: 1.8k

warnings: none(?); maybe some angst; goodbyes; definitely some angst

a/n: i was surprised with the results of my first fic(?), not sure what to call it. thank you if you read that and left a like or reblog <3.  i was expecting nothing tbh so i was so happy to see it do better than i expected.

i was listening to Night of Fireworks by Xdinary Heroes and was inspired to write this work. i chose jihyo because i've been missing her zone & one spark era lately. DMs and asks are open. i’m still new to writing so any suggestions or comments are appreciated. apologies for any errors.

------------------------------------------------------

Jihyo looked beautiful today. She always did, but today you felt mesmerized by her. Even with the lack of light outside, as the sun had already set, Jihyo seemed to glow in your eyes.

“Come on y/n, don’t get lost.”

Your hand was grasped by Jihyo’s, pulling you along to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowd. Jihyo looked back towards you. Blinding smile crossing her features, making her glow even more.

Your mushy thoughts and gazing were suddenly interrupted.

“There you guys are, we’ve been looking for you two everywhere.” Nayeon huffed.

“These two have been running my pockets wanting to play every festival game.” She continued. The culprits, Momo and Sana, happily ate away at a huge bucket of cotton candy. Which was also bought with Nayeon’s money. No remorse in their eyes.

Mina just silently greeted you two with a smile and waved as Nayeon clung to her arm in defeat.

“Please tell them that these games are rigged for you to lose money trying to win stupid stuffed toys!” the eldest whined.

It was the end of summer, which meant that the city’s annual summer festival was in place. The six of you had decided to come to this year’s festival. You were all still adjusting to the adult world; the youngest of your group just finishing university, others securing new jobs, and the rest of you were piled with work. This left little room for your friends to hang out like before. There were still a few of you missing tonight.

Jeongyeon and Tzuyu couldn’t make it, the vet center they’re working at had them stay for the night shift. They explained that some of the animals get jumpy with fireworks, so they were quick to oblige. Chaeyoung and Dahyun volunteered to stay behind with them to help, expressing concern over their friends being left out. Really they just wanted to play with the puppies and kittens all night.

Your group of friends sought a night of enjoyment and unwinding. The girls were all glad to be able to have found time to gather and spend together. Jihyo was particularly delighted that majority of your group could make it. Wanting to see your girlfriend even more happy you had a plan. Tonight every wish Jihyo had was your command.

Jihyo wanted funnel cake?

You bought her some.

Jihyo wanted to go on the bumper carts?

You teamed up to annoy Nayeon by cornering her and continuously crashed into her cart.

Jihyo wanted a ‘stupid stuffed toy’?

You played the festival games until you won her a cute stuffed elephant.

Much to Nayeon’s dismay. Momo and Sana gave her puppy eyes and promised to treat her to dinner if she won them something. She relented of course. Surprisingly, or not, Mina won a medium-sized panda on her second attempt of the ring toss.

Despite being able to enjoy the festival and being with your friends, there was a gnawing feeling eating away at you. It would creep up on you throughout the night. Not letting you stray too far from the reality of tonight. A reminder of the ticking timer in your chest.

This summer festival would be the last you get to spend with Jihyo.

Jihyo had gotten a promotion. Said promotion was a significant milestone in her career, as she was still a rookie in her office, only having worked for her company for two years. This was a chance she couldn’t turn down, it would be unwise to do so.

However, there was a major downside to this promising opportunity. It required her to relocate. Jihyo had to move to the company’s prestigious headquarters — in Paris. She would be moving to a beautiful and alluring city while gaining valuable experience for her work, but it also meant she had to leave her current life behind. Her friends, family, and you.

Jihyo didn’t mind the idea of starting fresh in a new country. Her ambitiousness and work ethic would make that a smooth process. What weighed heavily in both her heart and mind, was what it meant for the two of you.

Despite your willingness to move to Paris and follow your girlfriend, she protested. You had just secured a job with your dream company a couple months ago. Following Jihyo meant giving up the job you dedicated your blood, sweat, and tears for. That was something Jihyo couldn’t allow. The memory of you jumping in joy when you landed the job fresh in mind. She couldn’t take that away from you by asking you to leave with her. Hesitantly you obeyed Jihyo, not wanting to further upset her or cause any more turmoil.

Uncertainty filled your hearts. Fear of what the distance, different time zones, and unforeseeable changes would make of your relationship. So you both reluctantly agreed to not let it reach to a point of no return. Not wanting to taint the beautiful relationship you cultivated throughout the years.

To set aside the worries and stress, Jihyo invited the group to the summer festival. Afterall, this would probably be the last time she gets to hang out with everyone for a while.

Jihyo’s main reason for coming to the summer festival was to see the firework show with you. She wanted to spend a memorable night with you before the end.

As you prepared to leave to watch the show, Jihyo said her goodbyes to your friends. Both sides making promises of keeping in touch.

The conversations between Jihyo and the girls made your heart clench, knowing that you were going to have a similar talk later that night. Taking in the fact that you would have a different goodbye than your friends. One more permanent.

Once again Jihyo was leading you, hand in hers, to a vacant park that would have a nice view of the firework show. Once again, you just cherished the sight of her.

As you sat down on the grass, waiting for the firework show to start, you realized that the night was ending. Without thinking you held onto Jihyo’s hand tighter. In response, the shorter girl placed herself between your legs. She wrapped your arms around her as she leaned herself into your front.

The distant crowd began to applaud and cheer as the countdown for the show began.

Colorful lights began to erupt into the night sky. You felt your chest constrict tightly with each explosion that fired into the sky. Dreading the end of the festival.

You looked up into the sky, at the fireworks.

Then you looked at Jihyo.

Her face was tilted upwards looking at the sky. Big round eyes reflecting the colorful lights. Soft black hair cascading down her profile in slight waves. Mouth slightly agape and forming a bright smile. Face expressing momentary awe and joy. You couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of love for the girl in your arms — the girl who held your heart.

Fireworks were nowhere close to shooting stars that you could wish upon. Still, you hoped that they could grant you just one wish. You gazed at the fireworks and you prayed to the explosive colors in the sky. To let you stay here forever, with Jihyo.

As the build up for the grand finale of the firework show began, you felt your heart’s timer begin to run out. The night was over. You held Jihyo tighter. Buried your head onto her shoulder. Trying to ingrain this moment into your brain.

Before the final fireworks went off Jihyo stood up unraveling herself from your warm embrace. Her back towards you.

“y/n…”

“it’s time.”

You hesitated to stand up. Not quite ready for what was to come.

You thought that maybe it was just you who felt devastated to have to say goodbye. Until Jihyo turned around and lifted her head to look at you. There were tears that had already fallen from her eyes and new ones that threatened to fall. She ignored her tears and just smiled at you.

Jihyo grabbed both of your hands to hold in hers. She observed your face intently. Slowly nearing towards you. She closed the small distance between you. Lips meeting in a gentle but desperate need to be together.

Her hands came up to caress your face but stopped when she felt the tears that ran down your cheeks. Tears that you hadn’t realized had fallen. Jihyo pulled back and wiped away your tears.

“This is what’s best, right Jihyo?” you muttered. Suddenly unsure of what you had both agreed upon. Not quite set on letting each other go. Not set on saying goodbye.

“Yes,” Jihyo quietly replied as her hands roamed your shoulders. Her body pushing against your front to be as close as possible. To savor your touch for these last few moments.

“I love you Ji,”

“I always will.” you whispered as you moved a strand of Jihyo’s hair to tuck behind her ear. Your other hand finding her waist to hold.

“So will I, y/n/n. I love you too.”

Jihyo pushed herself even deeper into your hold, enveloping you in a hug. You reciprocated her actions. Filling as many gaps between your bodies as you could.

The remaining fireworks shot upwards into a final explosion. Finally the ticking timer in your heart went off. Heart bursting alongside the lights in the sky.

Without hesitating you brought your lips to your lover’s. You emitted all the love you felt for Jihyo into the kiss. Your last kiss.

As the fireworks began to fade, you both pulled away. Jihyo brought her hands to yours. You stared down at the connected limbs. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes. You willed yourself not to cry as you looked up. You wanted these last moments with Jihyo to be as clear as crystal.

The girl before you still glowed in the dark night. She looked stunning, angelic even, despite the tears in her eyes. Those round mesmerizing eyes held something scenic, a view filled with sadness and love. Far more captivating than any shooting star or firework show.

Thousands of unspoken thoughts were behind both of your eyes. Thoughts that you were able to comprehend without either of you having to voice them.

Jihyo gently let go of your hand, her fingers softly lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The inevitable end of the festival has come and so has the conclusion of your time.

You felt yourself wanting to reach out, to hold her hand tighter as her fingers began to slip away, a last attempt at grasping this fleeting moment that you wished could last forever. The look in her eyes pleaded for you to not make this any more difficult than it already was. A mixture of sadness and adoration. Your own gaze reflected Jihyo’s. A shared understanding; this parting, though painful, was necessary.

Jihyo was the first to speak.

“Goodbye, baby” she solemnly drawled.

“Goodbye, love” you returned.

Still rooted in the same spot, you watched the love of your life walk away. Tears now freely falling. Heart in ashes.

The night of fireworks is over.

[dragon-ascent]

Another year draws to an end~ what a ride 2024 has been! Lots of stuff happened: I finished postgrad, started a job and I even got engaged just this last week to the sweetest man ever! In some attributes, he even reminds me of Zhongli a bit <3 oh, and he follows this blog and acknowledges Zhongzhong is THE husband ever so hiii V you know who you are bestie ;)

This time last year on my blog, I had about 800+ followers. Now, I have 3.1k and counting, which is just, aaaaaa! It makes me so happy to see that I can dump my brainrot about Zhongli all I want here and people are actually interested in listening ;u;

I'm definitely disappointed that the year of the dragon didn't exactly herald any Zhongli lore, but as Ei says, his story is far from finished. So I'm still excited to see what direction his tale will take! I personally am still huffing the sun god theory copium, but any Zhongli crumbs are a whole buffet to me.

You can expect to see lots and lots of Zhongli food from me in the coming year, so stick around for that! I know I have many inbox messages to get to as well so pls be patient :') oh! And dare I say I have a Zhongli longfic in the pipeline finally? Need to work out the kinks and things, but when I do roll it out I think I'll upload a chapter per week. So if you want a more immersive fic with a fleshed-out world, keep an eye out for it~!

I'm rambling like Zhongli here but lastly, thank you all SO MUCH for all your support!! You guys really DELIGHT me with every lovely message you send, and comments and reblogs too, and lord knows my heart flutters and I literally SOB (/pos) when you say you love the way I portray Zhongli!! (If you've been here long, you'll know I've written about Zhongli doing calligraphy a couple times. So this year's birthday art with it actually happening? I am on CLOUD NINE)

Here's to a beautiful 2025! Love you all soooo much mwah!

[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 16: Frightening

We have many examples of Lilia catching people by surprise, including Ace (four times), Azul, Rook, Silver, Vil (three times), Grim (three times), Trey, Deuce, Cater, Sebek (twice), Silver (twice), Crowley, Riddle, and a ghost chef.

Malleus comments that Lilia and his Tsum both tend to pop up out of nowhere without warning.

Lilia may have passed on this habit to Silver, who scares Deuce on accident by coming up behind him without warning, but Lilia seems to do be doing so intentionally:

Lilia comments that his tsum appears to enjoy catching people by surprise, and when Silver comments that Lilia seems “oddly delighted” at having their rules broken during Halloween Lilia responds, “You're just imagining things. I'm certainly not giddy at the prospect of getting to scare people to my heart's content.”

(Silver: “Father seems to be getting a kick out of this.”)

Sebek says that Lilia spent over a decade scaring them, and “his level of expertise and experience isn't just leagues beyond laypeople's—it's in a whole other dimension!”

When a child tells Lilia that he is not scary he offers to prepare something “a little higher-level” and Silver and Sebek intervene, saying, “I think your fullest efforts would be more than most children can handle!”

We hear about what may have been one of these “fullest efforts” from ten years ago:

Sebek, Silver and Malleus all describe a “particularly blood-curdling” halloween that involved Lilia wriggling “like some sort of venomous snake, and his laugh rung hollow...I felt I might be cursed just listening to it.”

Sebek says that children and adults alike shuddered in fear and raced to their homes to wait out the nightmare” and Silver says “I heard that some children who saw him ended up wetting the bed that night,” which is later hinted at having been Sebek himself.

When Cater says that Lilia can get a little scary when he “Lilia starts getting screamy in Pop Music Club practice” Malleus, Sebek and Silver all insists, “The true Lilia is far worse than that!!!”

Silver apologizes for not being scared by the prefect’s attempts to frighten him, saying, “you'll have to do better than that. I've been trained by the best— my father.”

[vivwritesfics]

Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Three - First 'Date'

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

1.2K

Series Masterlist

Party Princess's Potential Prince

F1 fans are always delighted to see the Party Princess and her year's of friendship with Fernando Alonso. Every Monaco Grand Prix the two greet each other like old friends.

They were seen embracing upon the Princess's arrival to the paddock. Most fans thought nothing of it. It was normal for the pair. Ever since she first met him at ten years old.

Although interactions between the Party Princess and Alonso have been nothing but platonic, some if us are left to wonder if there is something more going on?

Princess Y/N is known for the string of lovers she had. Here at The Monaco Press, we have been lucky enough to interview some of these lovers. When asked for a comment, several of these lovers agreed that their is a high likelihood that the Party Princess has found herself a much older man.

The Monaco Press will bring you the latest on this story as it unfolds.

"Why the hell are you in my apartment?"

Prince Henri walked around the apartment. No matter how large he knew it was, the mess and the clutter made everything feel so much smaller. He kicked away a dirty, sparkly dress. "Can I not come and visit my baby sister?"

"You could have given me some warning," she said as she picked up the dress and the clothes that surrounded it.

Henri shook his head. "Get dressed. We're going out to dinner."

But she sat down on the couch instead. Henri rolled his eyes and stepped over the mess, walking into her bedroom. "Hen, piss off," she called over her shoulder. "I don't want to go to dinner with you."

A dress hit the back of her head. She grabbed it from the back of the sofa and held it out in front of her. It wasn't like the normal dresses she found herself in in the middle of the night, which were far too short low cut. It was black, went down to her knees, and covered up her arms.

"Seriously? Henri, I'll look like a nun."

"I don't care. Do I need to get you shoes as well?"

She glared and marched past him, into her bedroom. She slammed the door shut, quickly got dressed and ran a brush through her hair. She grabbed some flats that matched the dress and pulled them on.

When she was finished she opened the door and stepped out. "Jewellery," Henri said, turning her back around and pushing her into her room.

Her jewellery was all expensive and gorgeous. She picked out some stud earring that, although they didn't look like a lot, were worth more than her rent. Her necklace was simple, too, and she didn't bother with bracelets. Checking herself in the mirror, she walked out of her room. "Good enough for you, your highness?" She asked with a mocking bow.

Henri offered her his arm. She reluctantly took it and followed Henri out of her apartment.

It was a surprise to find no chauffeur waiting for them. Henri opened the car door for her before slipping into the drivers seat. "I've booked out the entire restaurant," he said as he began driving through the streets of Monaco. "Don't leave until you've given him a chance. Please."

"Wait, him?" She suddenly cried. "Henri, I thought we were going for dinner! You can't just set up a date for me and not tell me!"

Henri tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "I can and I have," he said.

She huffed as she sank down into her seat. "Who is it?"

"Charles Leclerc."

Charles Leclerc. She had only met him once before. He and his brother were meeting the Monaco family for some super formal interview. Charles had looked at her for most of the interview, and constantly brought up his girlfriend. It was big headed of him to assume she wanted him to the point where he mentioned his girlfriend every five minutes and she'd decided then that she didn't like him.

"Why?"

Henri slightly turned his head towards her while still keeping his eye on the road.

"Why have you set me up with Charles Leclerc?"

Henri shrugged his shoulders, and she could have strangled him. "You need good PR and he needs good PR. It just makes sense."

For the rest of the journey to the restaurant she was silent. She didn’t want to talk to Henri, not when he was such an ass.

When he parked up outside of the restaurant, she still didn't move. "Y/N, come on," Henri huffed. "Stop acting like a child," he said and opened his car door.

If there were paparazzi around, they definitely saw her getting dragged out of the car by the future king. "Henri! Stop!" She cried as she tried to fight her brother off. But he was bigger and stronger than her.

Her had her inside of the restaurant and sat down at a table in no time. She scowled, arms folded over her chest as she stared at the empty seat across from her.

"You have my permission to do whatever it takes to keep her here," Henri whispered to the hostess as he left the restaurant.

Keeping her there meant serving her drinks and bread. Twenty minutes later, the black Ferrari with the white and red stripe appeared.

Dressed in a black suit, Charles walked into the restaurant. He looked incredibly handsome, but that wasn't what she was thinking when she saw him.

"You're late."

"Sorry about that, chérie."

"Don't call me that," she spat as another drink was placed in front of her. "You know this isn't a real date, right? You know Henri only set this up so that we look good."

Charles nodded his head. "I'm aware," he said, playing with the rings on his fingers.

"Then why are you here? To waste my time?"

Charles shook his head. Taking his wine glass, he lifted it to his lips and took a quick sip. He placed it back down and cleared his throat.

"Your brother and I have been talking," he began. "Because of my recent trouble with the media after a messy break up, and because of your constant PR blunders and messy nights out, Henri and I thought it would be a good idea if you and I 'dated'. That way we could pull the media's attention away from our fuck ups and onto our seemingly perfect relationship."

She let out a dry laugh. "Do you really think that'll work?"

Charles shrugged his shoulders. "There's only one way to find out."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something just outside of the restaurant window. "Let me prove it to you," he said, reaching for her hand with a blissed out smile on his face.

When she saw the flash of a camera, she placed her hand in his and painted a practiced smile on her face. Her laugh, too, was practiced, perfected after years of unwillingly being in the spotlight.

"Do you think it'll look like too much if I drove you back to your apartment after this?" Charles asked as the food was placed in front of them.

She rolled her eyes and just hoped the paparazzi didn't see. "Nothing is too much for the party princess," she spat.

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[secret-smut-sideblog]

Girl Talk

Astarion x F! Tav

18+ talks of sexuality, implied trauma, safe words, role reversal, breast worship, grinding, fingering (m!), ass play, rimming, prostate orgasm, some gender play, aftercare, porn w/o plot

One late night Astarion turned their conversation to a more sensual topic and was delighted to discover Tav lacked experience with men. Naturally he was more than happy to lend a hand...

-

"So you've never..." He smiled, laying on his side next to her, the faint miasma of wine around them.

"Never?" She asked, incredulous. "Astarion do you take me for a holy woman?" Smiling cheekily at him. "I thought you surface dwellers thought all Drow are insatiable."

"Well, are they?"

"No comment." She lifted her glass to her lips, sliding her eyes away from him mischievously.

They had been traveling together for a while now and had struck up a fast friendship. Her snarky words and wanton flirtation winning him over. Sharp tongue and sharper eyes.

She leaned back, thinking. "Its more that I've been mostly with women. Sure there was a man or two but they didn't make it far enough to make an impression. Didnt get far below the belt." She shrugged, waving her hand noncommittally.

Of course, in a matriarchal structure she would be more directed towards sapphic pursuits. She had explained that Drow men were not upheld to the most flattering light in her society.

"If you had to pick, in our camp-"

"Karlach," No hesitation. "Oh I'd climb her like a tree."

He blinked, an amused smile teasing the edge of his mouth. "Impeccable taste."

"I have been known to have a refined palate." She smirked.

"Honestly I'm curious but I'm just more comfortable with women, I know their bodies. I can navigate them even without eyes." She laughed.

Ah yes, the eyes. Those haunting eyes.

He had overheard her speaking to Wyll about their shared warlock experience. His, to a devil, to defend his city. Hers, to an eldritch being, to achieve the gift of sight. Tried to smother his frown at the easy energy between them, their instinctive bond.

Logically he knew he should feel this same way about Karlach, with her soft puppy eyes following Tav around camp. But he couldn't keep distaste in his heart for her. Not for long anyway. Wyll on the other hand...

Her demonic white eyes peering good naturedly into his now. He didnt know if he'd ever get used to how they pierced him. She savored every sight and while slightly intoxicating it made him squirm to be looked at so thoroughly.

"Well," He smiled. Leaning towards her conspiratorially. "If you're less experienced with men you could always practice..."

While he found himself enjoying her company, quite a lot if he was honest, he was still looking for an in. And here it was. Plopped in his lap, just a shared drink away.

"Oh please," She rolled her eyes. "My pickings out here are slim to none. Unless I get the sudden urge to get horizontal with a goblin."

"What about closer to camp?" Sliding a little nearer to her, his fingers almost touching the inside of her forearm.

"Astarion," She admonished, drawing out her words. "Wasting your advances? My neck is right here." Turned her head to make her point.

While he was distracted by her jumping pulse point he couldn't help the edge of frustration creeping up him.

He had been putting all of his honeyed words on her, all his soft tempting touches, and she would just dance them off with a light laugh.

She was a natural flirt but there was an air to her that she didn't take his advances to heart. Maybe she thought he was just like that with everyone. That it didn't mean anything.

Given that she was devastatingly beautiful he felt even more pressure to stake his claim. Their companions all circling her constantly. Gods she basically had to beat them away with a stick at the tiefling party.

"What if," He started, tracing his finger languidly up her wrist. "You practiced on me? You can touch me like you would a feminine lover, if that helps."

She sat up on elbows, head cocked slightly to the side, staring at him.

It was suddenly very quiet and he tried not to fidget, finger tracing figure eights into her soft flesh.

"And that wouldn't make you feel... uncomfortable?"

Honestly he hadn't thought that far ahead. This was a person he was free to bed on his own terms, of his own will. And he was rather fond of her. Though he was here with ulterior motives, that didnt mean he couldn't enjoy her company. He could do much worse.

"Oh what's a little exploration between friends..." Looked up at her through his lashes. "Or more than friends."

"I mean, if we're exploring I could get out the strap."

He had been mid drink and choked, sputtering as she laughed, patting hard into his back.

"I'm sorry, just teasing."

"I mean... are you offering?"

She crooked a bemused smile at him. "I think we would have to work up to that, Star. Let's see how the night goes first."

After dinner she gathered her bathing supplies, exchanging pleasantries with everyone as she retreated.

Blowing a cheeky kiss to Karlach as she rose. Her fire erupting in a burst, Gale having to dive off of the log they were sharing. A goofy smile all over her face.

He almost felt bad about what he was planning. She would be much more suited to the tiefling.

Well, it's just sex, it won't mean anything beyond each of their gain. Him, allegiance. Her, pleasure.

He walked on light feet, following her dark auburn hair. The gentle lull of her singing. Playing with the tones and words they had helped the bard Alfira stumble through.

"Moon, Sun, All remind me of your grace, Faith, Care, All the love I can't repay~"

Despite her light and playful demeanor her singing voice was full and haunting. A mournful cello calling out into the night.

He understood why Karlach basically begged her to sing for them around the fire when her little talent was discovered. She had waved her away, insisting that it wouldn't be worth their time. She'd much rather hear Halsin play. Then Halsin had urged her on, countering that he would only pluck a few strings if she joined.

"Fine, prepare to be underwhelmed." She had laughed.

Immediately they went quiet as she started, closing her eyes. He noticed she always closed them when she was concentrating, as if the added sense was too much.

They were enraptured listening to her, even Halsin almost stumbling through cords. Her voice spellbinding them all.

"Gods, Soldier. Are you part harpy?" Karlach hushed after she had fallen quiet.

She smiled, clearly embarrassed. A rare sight. She had an easy confidence, getting her flustered was a feat.

Now, he approached her stealthily at the edge of the river. Faced away, already waist deep, wringing water out of her long hair.

"Are you joining or just hoping for a show?" She smirked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He was about to scoff, how did she always hear him no matter how quiet he moved?

Seeing his annoyed posture, she smiled. "My ears are more attuned than most seeing people, dont take it personally."

"Noted. I would so enjoy sneaking up on you." He pantomimed, crouching down playfully.

"I bet you would, but you'll have to walk on a whisper to get past me." She winked, sinking down into the water to chest high. Turning to face him. Eyes alight with mischief.

It felt so easy with her. Their banter a practiced dance, the steps surefooted.

"So, are you still dreaming of sharing a night of pleasure?" He mused, pushing his hand on his lower back. A wicked smile on his lips.

She lowered further into the water, only eyes now. Staring at him through her lashes, serpentine. One hand emerging, beckoning him with a hooked finger.

He pulled his clothes off in a sensual show, leaving them in a neat pile next to hers.

As he began to wade in her head submerged. The night water too dark to make out her shape.

He stood in false absence in the water, chest high. Senses alight.

Fingers along his waist, exploring. He looked down and saw her murky shape against his torso.

She rose, chest to chest with him. Pushing her hair slick back over her head. So dark it looked black in the dim light.

"Well, well," He intoned, pulling a damp lock behind her shoulder. "Looks like I caught myself a siren."

"You do know what sirens do to beautiful creatures like you, right?" She cocked her head at him, arms coming up to drape over his shoulders.

Their eyes were level with eachother, nearly the same height. She had teased him mercilessly in camp when it was discovered that she was an inch or two taller.

It felt almost too intimate to be directly across from her, their faces mirrored.

"I'd be more worried for your neck than mine, darling." He purred, flashing her a fang baring smirk.

"Oh I dont know," She mused, pressing her body flush to his. "I think deadly things can be good bedfellows, dont you?"

She brushed her lips against his, pulling away teasingly. "You still want to do this little experiment?"

"I'd love nothing more." He snaked his hands around her waist. "Lead on."

At least he didn't have to do the work this time. Could just lay back and go somewhere else.

Some of his thoughts must have betrayed in his face cause she paused.

"Hey, I'm okay to postpone this. Indefinitely if needed." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft then, pulling away from him.

He grabbed her retreating wrist, leading her back into him.

"Tav, I need this." He hushed, the truth. Though maybe not with the intent she imagined.

She paused again. Gods it made him nervous when she got quiet. Her melodic voice usually floating around the air.

"Ground rules." She stated, her eyes serious. Waiting for his response.

He blinked. Honestly he had given his own boundaries very little, if any thought.

"You first." Stalling for time.

"Not okay with being restrained and I'd prefer if we had a safe word."

He nodded, this was new to him but he did appreciate the idea.

Scouring his mind for definite turn offs but found it difficult. He tried to not be present for most of it so it was hard to say with certainty.

"Dont touch my back or the bite. Also not into restraint. Or force."

She smiled and he felt proud that he had passed this little test.

"We can stop at any time, okay?"

"Naturally, darling. Though I doubt I'll be able to resist ravaging you, I'll behave."

"Those lines work on a lot of women, huh?" She teased, fingers trailing his cheek as she pulled closer.

He felt a slight tightness in his chest but gave her an easy smile. "Well you're here now, arent you darling?"

"True." She whispered, leaning in to kiss his jaw gently. "Though I could say I'm here in the spirit of research."

"And you'd be a liar, a terrible one at that."

She breathed a laugh against him. "You always need to get the last word, huh?"

"Oh, I'll ge-" He was muffled by her mouth, pulling him into a slow exploring kiss.

He felt a little moan escape him, much to his horror. The desire in her touch surprising him.

She held him around his waist, cupping the back of his head. Her lips sliding warm against his.

She pulled away and he found himself following her. "The safe word is Bulette."

He nodded, and she lifted under his thighs and wrapped them around her waist. Walking up to the edge of the water.

His dead heart did race a little bit at that but he figured it was just the role reversal.

Though they were the same height she was much stronger than she looked. Muscle hidden under plush thighs and the soft curve of her stomach. He could feel it when he bit into the defined curve of her neck. See it in her shoulders when she lifted her arms over her head. That little adorable whine when she stretched.

She layed him back on the grass, her hands guiding him down.

"If this is how you treat your women I can see why you've taken so many admirers." He teased.

"You know," She smiled, leaning down over him. "You're beautiful enough it's not a far stretch."

He breathed a laugh through his nose.

"So where would you start, lover?" He purred, twisting a lock of her hair as it fell over him.

She hummed, moving down. "Usually here." Leaning into his neck on his unmarked side.

Kissing and nipping at his throat he found himself giving in to the sensation. Head falling back slightly. He never minded the foreplay.

Her mouth was devotional on his neck, licking and pulling heavenly circles.

He found himself humming with approval. Hand carding through her hair. "That is nice, darling."

"Then I'd move here..." her fingers trailing down his chest, brushing tentatively over his nipple. Asking.

He felt a shiver go down his back. Shocked by the little strike of pleasure.

"And then?" He intoned, hearing the slight rasp in his voice. Definitely intentional.

He felt her smile against his throat. Moving down his front, leaving soft kisses as she went. Thumbing over his nipple playfully.

"I would put my leg here." She hushed, pushing her knee between his thighs. "So she could grind."

"Interesting," He tried for suave, failing miserably. Her fingers softly twisting his peak making him slow and stupid.

"This is my favorite part." She looked up at him through her lashes cheekily. Hovering over his chest. "Hold on, love."

He almost scoffed, surely it wasnt-

Her mouth descended on his chest, licking hard slurping circles around his nipple.

His back arched involuntarily, a loud embarrassing groan leaving him.

She moaned in pleasure, her mouth salivating. Gripping his hips.

Gods she was unhinged, tongue pulsing and insistent. Laving up and down his hard peak. Panting hot against him.

If he had more sense he would have been baffled at how much it seemed she was enjoying just his experience. But he felt lost, head heavy with pleasure.

She pushed her thigh further into him encouragingly and he could no longer resist. Already painfully aroused.

He ground down into her thigh gratefully, feeling her tense the muscle for him.

Her other hand came up to pinch and twist at his nipple as she left it, sliding over to his left side and taking up there. The new sensation making him gasp, both sides of his chest being devastated with equal intensity.

She picked up on the rhythm of his hips and pushed her thigh into him in pulses.

Gods her mouth, rolling her tongue and nipping. Suckling down hard then pulling back to lick long stripes up his chest.

How in the hells was he already close?

He gripped her bicep, wrapping his leg around her hip.

Fuck it. Why not?

"I'm-," He panted.

She moaned into him, biting down on his engorged peak. Rising back up.

He almost whined at the lack of sensation until she latched onto his earlobe.

Oh fuck.

His eyes pulled shut. "Oh Gods, don't stop."

She suckled down hard, a little sweet whine directly in his ear. Her hands gripping his ass and pulling him into her harder. His cock throbbing and sliding wet against her.

One last nibbling suck and he was shattered.

Coming in stuttering cries, head thrown back. His pelvis contracting in great vicious jolts, spurting long ropes against her hip. Distantly aware of the sounds coming out of his lips.

"You with me?" She asked gently after a moment, pulling back. Kissing his face in light caresses.

Suddenly aware of his body again he realized his eyes had welled with tears.

"Ah, yes darling." He ruffled, trying to pull himself together with great effort. "I could actually go again."

She looked at him dubiously, a soft but amused smile on her swollen lips.

"I think you're lying." She purred, leaving a tender kiss on his already bruised neck.

He was. But he had a reputation to uphold.

"All out of moves? Dissapointing." He sighed.

"You're cute," She chided, coming back up to pull him into a searing kiss. "Biting off more than you can chew."

"Oh I've barely been sated, sweet thing. I'm starving."

"On your belly then." She whispered into his ear. Patting his thigh playfully.

"Well, wouldn't you like to be tasted?" He asked, confused. Surely she didnt intend to only pursue his pleasure.

"Hmm, maybe another night." She mused, truly seeming to mull it over.

What a strange creature.

"Are all sapphics like this?" He scoffed, letting her hands twist his waist. Hips up, bracing himself on his forearms.

"More than you'd think." She laughed, massaging his hips from behind.

"You know what you're doing back there?" He teased, shooting her a look over his shoulder.

"Hmm, different from what I'm used to. But I think I can translate." She eyed his backside playfully. "But dont hesitate to give me directions."

She leaned down and tongued gingerly at his hole.

His head fell forward, hands in fists.

"Well that's encouragement." She teased, tongue coming back. Moving in tight circles.

"Ah!" He moaned, pushing back into her.

Though he knew she was new to this she moved with practiced precision. He could tell she was very good at what she did on more feminine bodies.

"I heard this is a good spot." She murmured, her two fingers rubbing back and forth against his taint. The shudder that moved through him making her smile.

Tongue coming back to push slow pulsing heaven into him. Both sensations playing him like a fiddle. His fingernails digging into his palm.

Oh Gods it was too good. And still he needed more.

"Inside. One finger." He moaned into his arm.

She wet her finger inside her mouth, tested it in small circles around his entrance. Other hand still stimulating.

She pushed in gradually, pausing one knuckle deep. "Like this?"

"Yes," He panted. "Slowly."

"It feels so similar." She marveled, finger almost to the hilt. "How lovely."

He clenched at her words and heard a delighted giggle. "Even that! Oh!"

"If that's the same, then what about..." She curled her finger toward his navel.

He moaned loudly, buckling down.

"Oh yes," She smiled, beginning slow pulsing thrusts of her hooked finger. Other hand pushing more into his taint. Hitting his prostate from both sides.

A moaning writhing mess beneath her, he was completely gone.

"Oh how pretty, coming undone like this." She purred, leaning down to lick around her pumping fingers.

He knew he was not long for this world, the building pressure in his pelvis about to burst. Reaching around to grip her thigh with a bruising intensity.

"Such a good girl for me." She hummed.

He cried out, his end hitting him so hard he thought he would black out. A deep shuddering ripping through him. His whole world condensed to nearly agonizing waves of pleasure. Tears spilling down his cheeks he bit hard into his forearm. His cock forcing out what little he had left in him.

He collapsed comepletely flat into the ground, the damp earth holding him up.

She left his back momentarily, coming back with a cloth, wet from the river.

She pulled his slack body up to her chest, his back cradled into her. Softly wiping first his brow then working her way down.

"You dont ha-"

"This is part of it, love." She smiled, running her hand through his hair, cajoling it back into place. "You're getting the full experience."

He leaned into her, closing his eyes. Letting her bathe him clean. He knew future him would be screaming into his pillow at this but he was too blissed out to care.

"Thank you," She gave him one final wipe. Setting the cloth down and wrapping her arms loosely around his middle. "For trying this with me. For trusting me."

"You did everything and you're thanking me?" He laughed, still panting. "You're a strange woman, you know."

"If you're so insistent maybe you can do all the work next time." She pinched his side lightly.

Next time. The anxiety in his heart melting just for a moment. Oh thank the Gods.

"If Karlach doesn't beat you to it, that is."

"You're the devil."

She laughed against his back, his eyes getting heavy.

"Let's get you to your bedroll, we'll have a brand new day of bothering eachother tomorrow."

He would never admit it to her, but he was looking forward to it.

~

Part 2

[taldigi]

hi!!!! hi I've been loving ur Aus and kickass takes/discussions with each and every character (primarily Morgana and Teddie from what I can scroll down so far)

and I am !!!! absolutely normal about personas being gay or albeit the persona interacting with their little heroes cos like!! finally!!! SOMEONE MENTIONED IT and I can't thank you enough so here's - my take on that specific headcanon if you won't mind -

I actually do highly agree that each personas have a unique signature sound/calling noise if they don't speak verbally! (Jiraiya croaking like a frog,, very true and whistling tuney sound. Izanagi sounding like clashed metal and swishes of swords primarily, reverberated deep echoey hums, yukiko with flowery yet - also sounding like their turning into crisp. Sing-songy like uhhh a flute.)

but I also fuck with the fact they have their own personalities too; Izanagi and Yu having an apprentice/master dynamic... that's just me tho. Yosuke and Jiraiya on the other hand is a fun uncle who takes their kid somewhere fun - a gun range!

mix and match we have a polyamorous situation and I find that very very funny and delightful 😭😭😭 I do wish more fics explore this side of persona! like c'mon I want my other self talk and whisper me secrets -

but that's. all I have to say primarily cos I love your comics, they're funny and equally adorable 🔥

thank!!!!! I love being silly about my favorites and my brain is fulll of comics and ideas.

I've seeen a aloooooot of takes on personas, both in canon and non-canon and I'm def cut between a few different interpretations.

Ultimately, they are weapons, or- extensions of the self-- but p4 and 5 do push a little more into their independence. I like the latter idea, because it lends better to storytelling and situations.

I love personas talking and acting as guides, but only within your "self " (holds up the high priestess tarot card: The persona is your gut intuition, begging you to be true to yourself. holds up the magician tarot: the tools to success are within you and you must manifest them!) Like.. they may know a bit more than their user in terms of their own nature, but they aren't any more or less intelligent than their user. What gives them an edge is that they can express those subconscious desires directly-- stuff that you don't even know about yourself --and use that information to guide their selves. So yeah, the master/apprentice vibe from Yu? Yu's a natural leader, and an empathetic listener- of course Izanagi is going to be that too. And with Yu as drawn in as he is, who else is he going to listen to?

Persona noises? I'm all for it. I think it's a mix of.. what situation the personas are in specifically. They always have a link to their user, and can speak directly.. be it words or emotions. (i am NOT immune to the occasional scathing comment from Jiraiya on Yosuke's stupidity or loud mouth) On the field, however- it's different. Squeaks and clanks and hums and beeps. Others understand your persona based on how well they know you (example would be.. Yukiko understanding Tomoe more intuitively than she would understand Take-Mikazuchi.. "Whats that Tomoe? Teddie's stuck in the well??") plus plus plus PLUS close bonds being comforted by those real world equivalents... Chie loving birdsong... Yu comforted by frog chirps.. grapsy hands....

As tamed shadows: I also like to see them as "a version of you that is not tamed by societal expectations." and that does include shit like.. manners, gender performances, and familial expectations. So yeah, Izanagi likes herds his friends like a shepherd with his sheep, Tomoe craves stimulation, and Konohana Sakuya wants to bite things.

... and indulgently, I feel like that extends to expressing affection and bonds that would normally be like.. frowned at? as well as expressing relationships that pride seems to tamp down. Teddie and Yosuke have a cain instinct/ w/ Yosuke's "boys must be emotionally constipated about other boys or you will be EXILED TO THE FUCKED UP WEIRDO BIN" thing going on, but Jiraiya and Kintoki-Douji are far more openly affectionate b/c they are both naturally affectionate people. Get my vibe?

Also.. just.. personas seeing a loved one and go OH! MY FAVORITE ONE! and being drawn to them by default is.. aaahhh.

ANYWAY YOU GOT ME MONOLOGUING AGAIN YOU SLY DOG I hope this is as fun to read as it was to talk about LOL!

[starlightsearches]

Hello~ congrats on 2k~ I'm absolutely delighted you're including writing for Hux to celebrate, I've read absolutely all of your Hux works a million times and I love them so much still!!! I'd love if you could write Track 7 for Hux please~ thank you ^-^

Track 7: Kiss on My List by Hall & Oates  - Give me a character and a fluff prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

Together

AN: This is a second part after this request for those of us who can't handle angst 😬 and thank you for the request, pookie! I hope you all enjoy!! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated tee hee

Warnings: Mainly hurt/comfort whoops, language, heavy embarrassment for the reader, lots of talk about gossip, Hux is an awkward little freak, I made up a bunch of stuff about First Order bureaucracy, some brief mentions of sex but nothing too raunchy, and fluff at the end!

There are a lot of rules—both written and implied—when you're working for the First Order.

You're not sure where you'd find don't cry when you're on duty on either of those lists. But you know how dangerous the sting in the back of your throat is, either way.

You've never felt like crying on the bridge before, except for maybe from boredom. While there were tense moments, those were few and far between—like the stretch of empty space between stars.

And still, no battle or pursuit has come close to the horrible feeling that's smothering you as you stare down the back of the general's great coat.

He refuses to look at you, addressing all your orders to the viewport or the space above your head, his back to you whenever he can manage it.

There had been a senseless, simmering thrill that used to rush through you, before you had ruined everything—all those times you had caught the general staring, when you had watched the pink flush of blood crawl over his skin and imagined what the heat from him would feel like echoing from his hands, the press of his body, his wet, flushed mouth.

Stupid. Wanting him. Wanting anything, but especially this—to feel cared for, held, desired, by a man like the general. A man so single-minded, so dedicated to the cause his name was practically synonymous with the First Order itself, the unmitigated power that formed weapons and machines and the ruthless people who wielded them.

And why wouldn't he be ruthless with you? Maybe you were just one of many for the general—another subordinate, something to be used, designed to be discarded in the end.

You've made yourself thoroughly miserable following this trail of evidence to this conclusion, but it's difficult to find an alternative. Why else had he sent you away so soon after you had been together, had banished you from his quarters with the marks he'd left on your skin still stinging?

A voice you recognize too well interrupts your thoughts.

"Fall in. Uniform inspection."

Speaking of misery. Captain Cardall has arrived on the bridge, sharp eyes wandering, gaze always stained with a shade of loathing he saved just for you.

But you fell in to line, regardless, doing your best to school your expression into something neutral, if not a little resigned. You had given up long ago, trying to find some way to meet Cardall's impossible standards. No matter how much time you spent reading over the uniform regulations, he'd manage to find something you missed—or make up a new rule on the spot, couched in official language as an excuse to redress you, to take you down a peg.

Something he found necessary, although you couldn't imagine why.

You're near the end of the line, and so you're forced to wait, watching as the rest of your team is excused without comment, even Tawani, whose boots are so scuffed they're starting to look gray.

Whatever. Cardall and his pettiness and his stupid demerits were the least of your concerns.

It's your turn now, and you can smell the captain's breath as he nears—day old caff and the rotting stink of his soul. You snap to attention, eyes forward, doing your best to keep your expression still and stony.

The man circles, looking for a loose stitch, a wrinkle, a crooked cuff. You don't dare breathe, but you can't miss his deepening frown as he scans each and every inch of you, desperation practically oozing out of him.

Fuck. Had you actually managed this time? It's a small consolation prize on the shittiest of days, but you'd take the wins you were offered, even if they couldn't possibly make up for your losses.

You've celebrated too soon. Cardall's face juts toward yours, only inches from pressing against your skin and your stomach rolls with nausea. You can't stop yourself from flinching, from turning away from him and his glacial gaze.

It's hardly a millimeter that you've moved, but you've given the captain everything he needs. A pit forms in your stomach as the joy returns to Cardall's features, marked by the slow curve of his wicked smile.

And you know you've irreparably fucked up.

"Officer," he addresses you, two of his gloved fingers slipping into the space between your collar and skin. His touch is sickening, even through the leather, makes you want to run, but you're stuck, glued in place with fear. "What is this?"

Gods, if you had any luck left in you, any good-will from some unseen power, you'd drop dead right now.

It doesn't happen, though. You stay on your feet, even with the way your knees go numb. Everyone on the bridge has turned to watch. You think, although you may be imagining it, that the general's eyes are turned your way as well, the burn of his attention tracing up and down your spine.

"It's . . ." fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, "a hickey, sir."

You're half surprised Cardall doesn't start doing a little jig with the way he preens, brimming with excitement at this new and wonderful opportunity to humiliate you.

"A hickey?" he asks loud enough for everyone to hear—as if they weren't already engrossed in your torment—and you nod, his thumb just brushing the edge of the bruise you had tried to cover.

The general had done a number on you, truly. And left the galaxy's worst souvenir.

"Well," Cardall continues, finally pulling away from you to clasp his hands in front of his chest, "this is a serious infraction, isn't it?"

He takes his data pad from his assistant, a mousy young cadet who never utters a word. Cardall makes a big show of bringing up the uniform regulations, making a note on your personnel file that spares no details, narrating the description of the mark and its location in such graphic terms it brings heat to your cheeks.

You're immobile, in flames, your own personal funeral pyre lit with shame. And still, you can only think of the general, of the way he must be feeling, watching this display. Did his shame mirror your own, his cheeks pinked as he remembered the feel of your skin between his teeth? Or was he disgusted by you, by this connection he wished so desperately to sever?

"Now," Cardall says in a voice normally revered for executioners, "to whom shall I send the fine for damage to First Order personnel?"

There's a nasty snicker from somewhere outside your line of sight. Everybody was familiar with the rule about visible marks left on other officers—meant to keep younger and more volatile cadets from fighting, the threat of a fine pulled from their pitiful service stipends enough to curb most tempers.

Or to convince the cutthroat ones to be cunning enough not to get caught.

But there was a secondary consequence—officers strutting into work, bruises painting their necks and a smirk on their lips when they announced the responsible party. For the reckless among you, it had become a particularly bold way to announce a serious relationship, a sign of commitment.

Not an option for you, of course.

"I take responsibility for the damage, sir," you state, feigning confidence and hoping no one will notice the way your voice shakes, "I'll cover the fine."

A hum of disappointment, a rush of whispers. It's allowed, certainly, but will only increase the intrigue, the rumors that will follow you around for weeks, or even longer, if all other wells of drama stay dry.

Captain Cardall sneers, but he's left impotent in this, at least. He makes another note on his data pad and stalks away to the next officer in line, but he must be at least a little satisfied with his torment, given the hop in his step and the proud set of his shoulders.

You breathe, in and out, in and out, but just barely—too aware of your still-captive audience to allow yourself anything like relief. Instead, you blank your mind of everything that's just happened and turn back to your station, becoming a machine, emotionless and unblinking.

You spend the rest of your shift ignoring the unmistakable burn of the general's gaze.

Your time on the bridge comes to an end, and your replacement materializes at your side, finally releasing you. It's a quick walk back to your quarters, one you manage without tearing up or screaming in the halls, relishing the way your door sounds as it falls closed, sealing you safely from the shitstorm outside.

Finally alone, you fall back against the wall and take your first real breath.

Now you could break down in peace.

"Are you alright?"

It's mortifying, the way you jump at the whisper, the way your eyes—blown wide with fear—find him in the center of the room, watching you.

The general looks achingly handsome; you can't help but recognize it. High spots of color in his cheeks, his dark eyes flashing, and it breaks your heart all over again to have him here in front of you.

"General," you force the word out, then try for some semblance of decorum, straightening your posture like it could ground you in such strange circumstances.

He only nods, and though you'd never truly trust your ability to read him ever again, there is something about the expression he wears—brows furrowed and meeting in the center, eyes turned down at the corners.

The general is worried, and the expression is not at home on his face.

He must not want you to see it, because he's swift to glance away from you, eyeing the walls without seeing much, the fingers on one hand tapping at the palm of the other.

It's so different from the last time you were alone. Any awkwardness had been swallowed up by the heat of the moment—his arms wrapped tight around your waist, those hungry and desperate kisses that still made your knees grow weak.

You can't speak, and even if you could, you're not sure what you would say. Why had he come here? To berate you? To thank you for letting all the embarrassment fall squarely on your shoulders?

"I—" the general starts, then pauses, flashing his eyes to yours, "I would have waited for your return, but given the circumstances—"

The circumstances. That's one way to put it.

"Of course," you mumble, and you do understand. If anyone had seen him waiting for you outside your quarters, it would have only offered greater fuel to the blazing stories that were undoubtedly already traveling the ship, red-hot and sparking from one person to the next.

"Are you alright?" The general repeats his question, still watching, still unreadable, but there's a softness to his voice that's entirely unfamiliar.

You nod, barely, throat tight and sore, eyes ready to well with tears at this small sign of concern—that he had sought you out, despite everything.

The general presses his lips into a tight line, and there's something in the cant of his body, tense with forward energy like this small distance pains him.

"I've taken care of the fine," he tells you, "discretely. And the notes in your file."

You open your mouth to speak, to thank him, but no sound makes it out. There are tears now, pooling at the bottom of your lashes, but you won't blink, won't let them fall.

General Hux does step forward at the sight of them, the space between you shrinking, close enough he could reach out and touch you, if he wanted.

"And I'll take care of Captain Cardall, as well."

The words, and the severity behind them, drain the blood from your face.

"No, please," you caution him with a shake of your head, "it will only make people talk more."

Cardall would certainly not react well to any kind of criticism—especially not where you were concerned—and the well of bitterness inside him was deeper than any other you had known. He'd spread the story himself, no doubt, and the connections were easy enough to make.

But the general is undisturbed.

"I don't care if people talk."

Spoken with all the authority in the galaxy. You should have known a man like the him couldn't be cowed by a little gossip.

The general's eyes drop from your own, tracing the collar of your uniform, and he reaches out a hand, pausing just before his gloved fingers meet the skin of your neck.

"May I?" he asks, and you nod in confirmation, breath catching in your throat as he pulls your uniform out of the way, eyes the mark he had left on your skin.

He goes pink, cheeks rosy when he sees how he had stained you, sees it with the eyes of all the others who had witnessed the spectacle.

"I'm-" he flushes deeper, eyes bewildered, "You must know how very sorry I am for— for this."

"Don't be."

It's the polite thing to say, you think, in a moment like this one, but you mean it. Being with him had been worth all the pain.

His eyes flash, wide with surprise now, and you don't miss the way his fingers brush at the column of your throat, reaching for more of you.

"Really?"

His tone incredulous, so different from what you're used to that you breathe out a laugh, letting your own hand reach up to rest on his outstretched arm, just brushing at the bare stretch of skin between his glove and the cuff of his sleeve.

He takes another half-step forward, his hand moving to cup at the curve of your neck.

"I had thought—" he starts, but he can't get the words out, expression so wide and open, marveling at the touch of your hand.

He doesn't need to say it. You know what he had been thinking because those same fears had been yours.

How delightful it is to have been proved wrong.

You pull him closer, stroking your hand down the sleeve of his uniform and there's only a little hesitation in his touch when his other hand meets your waist.

General Hux smiles at you, really, and the expression is miraculous, has him glowing. Your heart stops beating.

He kisses you, slow, so very unlike the last time, and you feel that miraculous smile pressed against your own.

Nothing could be better.