ᑫⁱᵘ。

His breathing was shallow, huffs of air spilling from his chest and reminding him of how human he seemed. But he could never be human, not when his chest was but a hollow cavern, overflowing with nothing but broken dreams and empty promises. His fingers trembled beside him, and subconsciously, he backed away from the dazzling light.

Why was he afraid? How could he be afraid? After all, he was the one who’d started the fire.

"N-No..." Scaramouche whispered, his eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the scene before him. "This... this already happened. Why am I seeing this again?" He looked to his palms— a desperate attempt at gathering his sense of self— but upon seeing his old attire, he found himself inarticulate.

This can't be. It was like he was back to being—

"Kunikuzushi," That voice... that was- "Why did you do this?" The child cried, clutching a familiar doll to his chest. It was threaded with such precision and care, casting in his mind a fond memory of the weeks he spent learning how to sew such a thing with his past friend.

Then the sight of the child’s charred skin hit him, and the endearing thought was discarded. He looked just as he did so long ago— sick, fragile.

But his eyes, oh his eyes told another story.

Scaramouche remembered his eyes, always full of wonder and curiosity, much like his own when he was just a fledgling. Those eyes that would beam up at him as the child tugged him away to a new discovery. Those eyes that would melt close as a smile formed on the child's lips. Those eyes, that were now boring holes into his own, absent of life and that childlike glee he was once accustomed to. Those eyes that were now swirling with fear, fear that was now directed at him.

"I didn't—!!" Scaramouche found himself choking, misery seeping into the depths of his chest and pouring out into his voice. He felt utterly nauseous at the sight before him, heaving breaths of uncertainty as hot tears began to spill from his indigo hues.

Shakily, he brought a hand to his mouth, searching for the words he wanted to say. "I didn't mean to... you- you broke your promise..."

The child took a step back, "Promise? What promise?" The puppet’s brows furrowed at the confusion on the child’s face, the air getting all the more jeering— threatening to strangle him— the longer they spoke.

"You said we were family. You said you would never abandon me," Scaramouche recalled. Abandon. Just the word sizzled and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair at all.

“I didn’t abandon you,” the boy managed to retort, his voice scarcely a rasp. “I died!” He choked on a fit of coughs as he succumbed to the illness both his parents fell to.

Abandon… die…

Those were two completely different words, were they not? Yet, somehow, the discarded creation had found the two synonymous. The concept of death was still foreign to him all those years ago, and the timing was impeccable, as if someone were pulling the strings to all his misfortune. One betrayal after another. It was a deadly recipe of disaster that bubbled over into impulsive decisions and, finally, the roaring flames before him.

And now, he could only witness this village burn all over again— brick by brick, plank by plank— and watch the terror in the eyes of the one he called his friend, of the people he held close to where his heart should be, resurface from ashes long gone.

Damn it. It's not fair. It's not fair at all.

Another staggering step, and the flames began clawing at the child’s leg, searing deeper into his already charred skin. "Wait! Please!" Scaramouche shouted, lunging forward towards the kid now set ablaze and embraced in the wild, untamed fire. “Don’t leave me—" No, not “—again.”

But it was all in vain. He pleaded. He cried. He called, yet no one came.

His fingers crossed the child's, the doll slipping from the child's grasp and into the desperate puppet's hands. And without skipping a beat, the child burst into cinders before his eyes.

The ground kissed his knees as he collapsed, trembling hands digging into the veil that did little to shield him from the raging light. Within seconds, it was torn to shreds and soaked in the tears that he bled.

He wept, voice barely above a whisper. "Why couldn't it have been me…" Those tears, those pathetic emotions he harbored, why couldn't they stop? Why did it hurt so bad? Why did everyone leave him?

A dry, forced chuckle passed his lips that were drenched with the downpour from his eyes. He wiped them.

"Maybe I am just some faulty being." He looked up at the stars that watched in silence above him, ignoring his pleas for help. Gods… humans… even the stars were nothing but lies.

It was only then that a sensation ran down his neck, causing him to flinch from the sudden sense of touch. He whimpered despite trying his best not to, yet what he felt wasn't in the slightest unpleasant.

He leaned into it, eyes growing heavy with whatever was circling his skin, the pain that drenched him before growing numb as the flow of his tears drew softly to a stop. He felt small, yet safe under this eerie yet familiar touch, like an angel was embracing him and shielding him away from the tragedies that plagued the world.

A trickle of hope poured into him, flooding a soothing warmth through the chest that had been poisoned by a twisting ache. His fist unraveled the tattered veil, his hands now clinging onto something more plush and soft, though he couldn't see.

It told him he was fine. He was safe. He was sound.

Sound?

The air caught his mind, now devoid of the screams that smothered him just moments before. Even the crazed laments of the fire ceased, replaced by the quiet pitter patter of falling droplets— none of which he felt.

What he did feel was something soft showering his face, warm and featherlike, and another delicate touch swaying back and forth over his cheek, creating a peaceful harmony within his settling mind.

Despite the heaviness in his limbs, he pulled himself closer, his legs rubbing against silky fabric instead of the ashened ground of what had once been his home. His arms drew himself closer against whatever was bringing him comfort, the sound of something beating surprisingly washing away the rest of his worries. He drifted far away from the panic that once overcame him, the raging storm in his head now reduced to calm waves of water, carrying him safely back to reality into the arms of an angel.

His eyes, tired and spent, fought to open. His vision made out from blurring colors the sight of another person laying beside him. They leaned into him, and he felt the same featherlike sensation on his forehead. A voice he recognized— he had yet to decipher the words— filled his ears.

It was…

Before his eyes could fully adjust, he was already curling against your chest, fingers softly grabbing your shirt and tugging like his life depended on it. In an instant, the world came rushing in, his lungs breathing in the calming air of the small apartment you shared.

He was fine. He was safe. He was with you.

He called your name, his voice cracking as a groan slipped past him, muffled by his face pressing into you. Memories of his nightmare crashed back in restless waves, threatening to drown him once again. He coughed, attempting to speak through labored breaths.

"I s-saw… my, I-'' Scaramouche hiccuped, his body starting to shake like the harsh winters of Snezhnaya was biting through his porcelain skin.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, take your time.” You were quick to silence him, whispering affirmations in the mist of night for only his ears to hear. He clutched onto you tighter. “It’s okay love, I’m here.”

After the countless years of suffering the puppet endured, he wasn’t fond of being touched by any living being— at least, not after all the torturous poking and prodding he was subjected to during Dottore’s experiments, whilst promises of “making him stronger” or “unlocking his true divinity” fell on deaf ears as he withered in pain.

But you? He couldn’t help but melt under your irenic touch, something that was foreign to him for decades. It took awhile for him to adjust to your displays of affection, but eventually your arms became his new safe haven, something that was all apparent now as you rubbed gentle strokes against his back, the sobs that were born from his horrid dream now dying down to soft sniffles and hums.

The moon glowed in all its glory in the blanket of night, illuminating the two lovers cuddled closely together like birds in a nest. Its silver glow became sparkles in the stray tears that spilled over his cheeks, your hands calmly wiping them as they fell. He came to realize over some time that the featherlike touches he felt prior were you pressing kisses to his face.

The moon came and fled as the sun put it to rest, painting the darkened skies in shades of blue and red. Its rays glimmered, peaking through the window and shedding its warmth on the both of you. By then, the wandering puppet’s tear stained cheeks were dried, his breathing leveled, and eyes half lidded, swirling with bouts of serenity.

Your hand was idly playing with his hair, gently combing through and dividing pieces that fell across his face. A comfortable silence filled the air, only penetrated by the whisper that flew past your lover’s lips, calling your name. You hummed as his hand slowly crept from under the covers, reaching out to grab yours from his strands and bringing it to his chest. His warm breath tickled your skin when he sighed, the feeling being overthrown when his lips kissed the back of your palm, lingering for nearly a minute.

“Do you…” He spoke softly, still firmly holding onto you, yet his voice sounded far off, eyes distant and hazy. “Do you think I’m evil?”

The question dripped from his lips like dew to a leaf, dropping into your ears for your brain to soak it in. Melancholy sprouted from it, growing vines that entangled your heart.

The word evil ran through your head, such a harsh term to describe someone, you scrutinized. Could you really compare the word to the former harbinger lying across from you? Perhaps his past actions, but…

Do evil people cry genuine tears? Do evil people feel remorse for their wicked deeds? What truly defines evil anyway?

The fluttering of wings fanned your clouded thoughts, your answer becoming clear along with the sound of birds chirping. You tugged at the vines clenching your heart, ripping them with ease as you looked at the man in question.

“Doing good things doesn’t make you a good person,” you imparted, staring honestly into his alluring eyes. He listened intently as you spoke, hanging off of every word like a puppet to a string. “And doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person either.”

The foggy look in his eyes finally cleared.

“I think you experienced the worst parts of the world before you could understand the beauty of it, which led to your notorious doings.” You adjusted your hand to hold his, and he gave you a gentle squeeze as your thumb caressed circles into his. “But if we look back to your ‘previous incarnation’ without your memories, or your titles before Balladeer, would you call them evil as well? Would the people who knew you then describe you in such a way?”

The question floated in the air. A quizzical frown assuming the puppet’s features. For a second, he was back in his dream again— images of fire and ash tainting his mind. He remembered those eyes that were swirling with fear, anxiety threatening to crawl up his spine again.

He was fine. He was safe. He was…

“I didn’t abandon you,” The child's voice played back in his head, oddly sounding more soft compared to the voice he heard in his dream. Another recollection filled his thoughts— it was the sight of the child pulling him eagerly, a wide grin adorning his chubby cheeks, a giggle followed by his own filling the air as he allowed the kid to guide him to some growing lavender melons.

"I- I can't reach it. Awhh," The child pouted, looking away from the tree dejectedly.

"They are pretty high up," Scara- no, Kunikuzushi observed, bringing a hand to his chin. "You'll be able to reach them if I give you a lift though."

"Really? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You're really the best ya know, and d-don't forget it either!" The child cheered, jumping up and down in his small burst of excitement before calming down. He tired easily, no matter what he did.

"I'm the best? But I'm just a mere—"

The small mortal coughed weakly, balling his fist right after and shouting a heartfelt declaration. "Puppet this, puppet that. You're a good person and you're a good friend. There's no if, ands, or buts about it,"

He couldn't help but reciprocate the child's smile.

"I- I guess you have a point," Kunikuzushi hummed, his face blooming a pretty pink as he tried to hide under his veil. "You know… you sound a lot like an old friend of mine.”

The memory faded as quick as it came, his shoulders now relaxed and expression thoughtful. You assumed he reached the same answer as you.

They wouldn't call him evil. Never in a million years.

“I couldn’t either," You answered his thoughts, bringing your hand back to card through his hair. "Which is why I don't think you're the monster you make yourself out to be."

He wanted to laugh, but he found himself without a voice. All those questions he aimlessly sought answers to. He’d even asked the God of Wisdom the same thing, yet her answer was quite different from yours. But could he really take your words to heart— or hold it above the words of a god? Would her answer change if he asked her again? Would your answer change if he wronged you?

He was fine. He was safe. He was good.

The sounds of rain dwindled as the critters of light rustled away, chirping and hollering to the sun’s presence. By now, its light blanketed you both, whisking off the drowsiness as you rubbed your eyes. You were in the midst of calling your lover’s name when his fingers wrapped around your leg, pulling it over his hip to bring you close once again.

He cupped your face, your eyes instinctively closing as his lips embraced yours, the warmth of his touch enough to rival the sun and the shine of the moon. No celestial body could reap what the two of you had sown beautifully together.

You held his past, present, and future, carried his vices and virtues, wiped his tears and tore down his walls even when he built them up too high.

You stayed, even when he couldn't give you his heart.

He was enough, you reminded him proudly each day. He was safe. He was fine. He was loved.

"I love you," Scaramouche found himself mumbling against your lips, breathing out a content sigh when the two of you finally parted.

It was the first time he initiated such a declaration, and while he'd never admit how much it affected him, the shy smile carved into his face spoke it well enough. His passionate gaze lit a thousand flames in your soul and it was your turn to fall into the rabbit hole of his beauty.

With another quick kiss, you touched your foreheads together, your voice a lullaby to his ears as you chimed the words that always made him feel something skip a beat in his chest.

"I love every part of you, and never forget that," you huffed, feigning a pouty expression to entice a smile— which he effortlessly gave.

"Don't worry, I won't," he laughed heartily this time, making an effort to find your hand and intertwining your pinkies. He brought them to his chin, pecking the side of your hand once more. "I promise."

TAGLIST — @sonder-paradise @96jnie @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss

How curious, he was. And by no means did he harbor any malicious thoughts or ill intentions. Some may have found it creepy, but he was only a fledgling thrown out of the nest, desperate to survive yet also wanting to spread their wings to explore the vast world, his world being you.

If you had hair, he would find himself parting strands of them away from your face and in the act would rub his thumb across your cheek, melting when you cuddled into his touch, sighs of content and soft murmurs escaping you.

If you concealed your hair, he would tuck or readjust whatever you used to cover it.

I feel like any version of him would play with your hair though, and there's the chance of you waking up to find a piece of your hair styled or braided if it could be .

PLEASE keep it like that for awhile, he'll literally melt seeing it.

Sometimes, he copied your breathing to try and feel more human, and would grow concern if you took too long to inhale.

Probably shook you awake one time out of panic, thinking you were dead in your sleep. You were not amused and too tired to complain of the rude awakening so you just nodded off that you were fine, told him to go to bed, and instantly fell back unconscious. He was relieved, confused, and shocked within the span of two minutes.

Humans are strange he concluded...

The slow breaths he mimicked would make him feel at ease and soon he would be in dreamland right beside you.

And on rare occasions, you would wake up to his sleeping figure and admire his peaceful expression.

Then there's the way SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER looks at you while you're sleeping.

Actually, he glares at you while you sleep, sometimes with a scowl on his face.

He's not mad, he's just deep in thought and it's driving him insane.

What he's thinking about? It's you and how your cute— uh, annoying face makes him feel all weird inside. It's so aggravating, even if he wanted to, he couldn't sleep.

Why would you even let your guard down around him? Are you stupid or just have a death wish?

Even when he raises a hand to you, he doesn't harm you. He thinks about how soft you must be, how warm you would feel beneath his finger tips and he wants to run his hand against your cheek— but he quickly retracts his hand the moment you stir in your sleep.

He's horrified at the thought of almost touching you so tenderly that he's left gazing at his hand in pure shock.

He wholeheartedly believes you've cursed him or could this be one of Buer's tricks? To hell with these meaningless feelings! He thought he eradicated all of them but ... you just had to make him feel... things, it was unfair!

But he could never bring himself to do anything that endangered you. If anything, he wanted to protect you as if you were the gnosis he's been chasing all his life.

When he's thought long enough, he's hit with an epiphany that threatens to push him off the bed, nearly waking you up in the process because the next thought that hits him is

Fuck, he's screwed.

Because how could he fall for a mortal??? Anyone for that matter. He thought it wasn't possible, all he knows is pain and betrayal. But… this foreign feeling that's invading his every thought and holding him captive all stems from you.

In some way shape or form, he blames Nahida, even if he knows she had nothing to do with it.

He crosses his arms, an inaudible huff leaving him as he contemplates what he should do. You could practically feel his glare burning holes into your dreams.

Eventually, he comes to terms with it and his eyes soften as he watches you now out of fear that you'll disappear, just like everything else he cherished.

He'll go from whispering light hearted obscenities to sometimes sweet nothings.

His favorite thing to do is listen to the thrumming of your heart, odd enough that's the only thing that lulls him to sleep.

No matter what version you're stuck with, Scaramouche's gaze would always hold some sort of admiration for the peaceful look of you resting.

"Mnhm..." You mumbled in your slumber, adjusting the arm you were laying on to a more comfortable position.

The sudden movement caused the puppet to retract his hand to his chest, his other, caressing the skin that was inches away from brushing your face.

He bit his lip in anticipation, body stiff, and eyes wide, waiting for yours to open but the sight never came. The tune of your gentle breathing filled his senses, the sound easing the tension he once had as he relaxed against your bed.

Scaramouche mumbled to himself, brows knitted in disappointment, "You're existence is really distracting,"

"Would you prefer if I stopped existing then?" You hummed in your supposed sleep, eyes still close and face still relaxed that had the divine creation wondering if his ears chose to deceive him.

Your smile gave it away however, and the startled puppet could only gulp with a meek "...No."

"Then get used to it," A promise? Perhaps, but Scaramouche couldn't ponder on about your words, not when you reached out and took his hand in yours, bringing it back to the position it once was and pressing it against your cheek.

His face bloomed a pretty red, cloaked by the blanket of midnight, but the sudden warmth of his hands were evidence enough of the state he was in.

Enamored by the way your fingers grazed his own, he finally nestled into your space, his leg thrown over your calf as a means to be closer, a pout still evident on his lips.

The rest of the night was spent listening to the ambience the darkness brought, crickets and nightcrawlers bustling with life, the gentle breeze and rustle of leaves, the soft snores that he was sure indicated you were finally at rest.

His hand still laid on your cheek, thumb swaying from time to time. With a moment of hesitation, his lips found your forehead as it's destination, leaving a soft yet long kiss in it's wake. And when you didn't stir, the wandering puppet opened his heart yet another time, welcoming your name to live within the fractured yet healing bits of his being, two words whispered gently, only for him and the calming breeze to hear.

"I will."

TIGHNARI - YOU'RE ALWAYS APART OF HIS MORNING ROUTINE

Despite the enthusiasm he harbors for new discoveries, TIGHNARI is a creature of habit when it comes to his lifestyle as a Forest Watcher.

He likes to be prepared, organized, and is pretty routine for the most part along with his duties.

The fennec fox has always been an early bird since he carries a lot of responsibilities, but that all changed when you crash landed into his life

More specifically, when you moved in with him.

It's apparent that there's not many chances to spend some quality time with Tighnari, (unless you're working along side him, and even then, it's mainly work and your attention to one another is fractured) he's always on the move and there's new things calling for his presence everyday.

But they'll always be at least two times you'll have his complete and utter attention; when you wake up, and when you fall asleep.

It's known that these moments alone are the most precious so the both of you savior it as much as you can. So there's a special routine to always make the most of each other's company and Tighnari won't let anyone get in the way of it.

It's kinda an unspoken rule for the other rangers/watchers to not disturb the two of you until one of you comes out. The entire forest better be in flames before anyone dares knock on your door unless they wanna face a sassy and grumpy fox. cue the "You woke me up for THIS?" lecture.

On a normal morning, waking up together consists of soft touches and cuddles.

Tighnari usually wakes up first but on rare occasions do your eyes get blessed with the view of him waking up, and it's truly a sight to see.

The first thing you wake up to is Tighnari's arms wrapping securely around you, ungloved hands running up and down the small of your back, another feeling of his lips tracing up your shoulder and to your chin until you give him a pleasant reaction.

There's times you'll pretend to still be deep in slumber just to hear him whine and nuzzle his face into your cheek. He might tickle you if you keep up the act long enough.

The way your fingers run against the edges of his ears, soothing circles coaxing out the sweetest of purs that reverberates along the crook of your neck where his face rests. It's an absolute must do before anyone decides to leave the comfort of your shared bed.

The rest of the morning is filled with the two of you getting ready. It doesn't matter what you're doing really, one of you would always be near the other.

If you had hair and allowed him to see it, he'd sneak in the bathroom while you're doing your hair to hug you again, giggles erupting from the both of you as he kissed your nape and moved to work on his own strands of bed hair.

You're always in sync no matter how tired the both of you are, you always know what the other needs before being asked, already handing it to each other if it's close by.

It's so domestic catching glimpses of Tighnari staring at you through the mirror, a warm smile on his face that you return tenfold. Please tease him a little, just to see his face heat up and his ears slightly dip because he's flustered.

If you're having trouble with your hair or don't feel like doing it, he'll chime in and offer to help. He's also very gentle and knowledgeable about what products works well with your hair type.

He likes when you fret over his tail and offer to brush and oil it. He also smacks or brush your side with his tail whenever you pass by, he swears it's not intentional but his smirk says otherwise. It's a passive way of scenting you.

There are times where one of you doesn't feel like getting out of bed just yet. You have to use a few tricks to get Tighnari to cuddle you again.

Softly pull his tail, cling to him a little, run your hands against his back and tell him you miss how warm and soft he was.

Beware if you cling to him though, he will pick you up and start his morning routine with you hanging from his back.

The only way you're 100% staying in bed is if you're feeling under the weather.

He'll cater to any and everything you need and will stay with you longer before he has to leave. Expect soft rubs to whatever hurts and he'll let you snuggle his tail if you wish.

There are times though, when the sly fox just wants to sleep in for the day, regardless if the two of you had plans or not. The forest could wait, plus, how could you pass up an entire morning spent with your lover?

Conversations consist of asking what the other plans for the day, silently conspiring to sneak in moments to have the other to themselves in a way it doesn't inconvenience them.

Tighnari would usually cook and if you have that under your skillset, he'll cook with you and would always offer his help with whatever recipe you're craving.

If you're forgetful, he would always have/know where things are and will always remind you of something before you leave the house.

Tighnari's favorite part of the day is right before he leaves.

Your hands fiddle with the seams of his clothing, smoothing out wrinkles and adjusting here and there. He loves how concentrated you look, so focused and doting only on him.

His hands rest comfortably on your waist, your eyes peering up as your fingers run effortlessly through his hair, separating green from black.

You'll peck his nose as he's caught in his trance, only to see his face scrunch up in a adorable way and his ears twitch to the sound of your laugh.

He falls in love with you even more, if that's even possible.

The cherry on top is the kiss he gives you before his departure.

He'll never give you a rushed kiss, he'll feel off the rest of the day if he ever did. So expect passionate kisses.

He always pours all of his love into them, pulling you closer with a hand cupping your face, thumbing your skin.

When you do pull away, there's another silent conversation that happens all with eye contact, green and brown hues lighting up as if it witnessed the universe itself in all its beauty. He'll voice a paraphrased version of it though, words of being safe and one last "I love you." before he goes.

Like I said, every moment with you is precious and he'll never take your time for granted.

Your eyes fluttered open as the sun peeked over the horizon, emitting a soft glow of orange and red that creeped through the translucent pang of glass. The call of birds- you could normally put a name too if it weren't for your drowsy state- sung a sweet melody, broadcasting to the residential wildlife that the sun has come to rise and shine over the vast foliage you've come to know.

Sadly, you didn't wake up to the feeling of Tighnari cuddled against you, feeling the chill of the morning instead in his absence. A shiver crawled up your skin as you pulled the covers tighter around you, eyes searching for your lover to steal his body heat and capture a few more minutes of rest. But as soon as you turned around, you were met with a sight you could fawn over for centuries.

Dark and green strands framed messily over his cheek, his mouth slight agape accompanied by the slow breaths he took that made his chest rise and fall. Tighnari laid curled into himself, hugging his tail as drool dribbled down the crevice of his mouth. How adorable, you couldn't help but be captivated by his angelic look, urging closer to admire the puppy like and blissful state he slept in.

He bathed in the candescence of the unrivaled lightning Sumeru held, coating him in a golden hue that made him look otherworldly.

The fennec fox's ears twitched upon your shuffling, tail spurring into a calm motion as he stretched the exhaustion from his limbs. He really did resemble a small kitten, uncurling from his ball and yawning as his ears fell flat against his head, giving you a glimpse of his pointed canines and reminding you how animalistic his features were.

"... Morning," He greeted sluggishly, voice carrying a rasp that made your heart do jumping jacks. "How'd you sleep?"

He was already in motion before you could answer, finding his place with you snaked between his arms, tail draped around you in some way with his chest pressing against your front as he laid on top of you.

"It was alright," you answered honestly, hands idly tracing unmethodical patterns on the small of his back. "But seeing you wake up was the highlight of it."

"Mmnh..." Tighnari hummed, face buried in the cavern between your neck, waiting for something it seemed. But when you started to move away, his grasp quickly tightened, restricting you completely.

You blinked, "Is something wrong?" you asked to which he responded with a huff. Yes. Okay so what could it be? You racked your mind for answers as the forest watcher grew more impatient.

Did he feel ill? Was he upset? You mumbled aloud to yourself, voice laced with puzzlement as you played coy.

Of course you knew what he wanted, you just loved to tease him. Tighnari was no fool to your theatrics however, not that it was an elaborate scheme, he'd fallen into your traps too many times to know when you were messing with him.

But if you wanted to play that way...

"Hmm, I wonder what it could—" You yelped before you could continue, his fangs grazing your skin as he nibbled on your collar bone. He specifically made it so that his ears were obscuring your vision, flicking every so often in anticipation. "Fine, fine, I concede," You giggled, finally giving his fluffy appendages their much needed attention.

"Yeah, I thought so," You could feel him smirk against you, giving a kiss to the mark he recently made. "Haven't anyone told you to never poke a bear with a stick, you big lummox."

"Yeah, but they never said the bear would be this adorable, how could I resist?" You cooed gently, leaving a small peck on his ear as a purr escaped from your lover. "They never said they could purr either,"

"Oh shut up."

"I love you too."

"Unfortunately the feeling is mutual."

"Tighnari!"