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greenandsorrow · 15 hours

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~Her man child~

Headcanons 📻

Al can be a ruthless, intimidating and manipulative specimen. Still, he turns into a grinning goofball when in your presence.

When first meeting a demon such as Alastor, one of the things you notice before anything else is their dominating and confident aura.

BUT let me tell you something miss!!

No matter how soft or feminine, seductive, masculine/ androgynous, childish or serious you are... The deer man LOVES to be babied by you.

Only behind closed doors that is.

And I'm not even talking about your intimate moments yet!

Alastor, as someone with a lot in his mind -always planning his moves in advance and always controlling situations- likes the comforting and tender touch or words of a woman.

He can relax and allow someone else to take care of things for once.

It makes him all giggly and silly when you do baby him. To him, you're a nurturing presence just like his mother once was.

His braincells vanish and he just accepts anything you have in store for him.

You wanna squeeze his pale cheeks? Comb your fingers through his hair? Play some monstrosity of a game that Niffty suggested?

Count him in girl!!!

Cook for him and he'll forever be your protector.

Scratch his back and give him a massage after he was live on air and he'll turn into putty, little grunts of pleasure making you smile enough for your cheeks to hurt.

There's always this sparkle of a child's excitement when he comes to your room (chest full of pride and a smug grin on his face) to read you the notes for his next live transmittion.

His jealousy is also that of a child's.

A pout, a crease between his brows and hunched shoulders.... YOU WERE LAUGHING WHILE WATCHING TELEVISION????

How dare you? You traitor...

VOX made you laugh?!

No way.

Alastor is better. He's gonna prove himself to you.

Expect a ton of dad jokes. Expect him bullying all your friends just to see you crack a smile, because he's gonna know he's the reason behind it.

On the same note. What are boundaries?

The more you get to know Al, the more the gentleman persona gives way to an all consuming boy that wants ALL of your attention to himself.

He throws unnecessary tantrums.

Your deer man makes up little songs about how miserable he is when you choose to help Charlie in her drawings, instead of listening to him rumbling about a new way to embarrass Vox.

And he makes sure to sing them when you pass by.

Alastor is always hungry. It doesn't look like it, but this man is always munching on something.

He doesn't like his scars. But this aversion doesn't come from a place of insecurity about his appearance.

It's the meaning behind them that messes with his head.

A deer with the marks his predators left on him. He is not prey to anybody.

That's why he allows humans and demons alike to think of him as a Wendigo. It's less humiliating in his point of view.

But isn't that another childish response of denial to his demon manifestation?

He talks in his sleep, tossing and turning, shifting closer to you until you hardly have any space left on the bed.

You of course have fallen down from it. Luckily for you, his rugs are plush and thick.

He can go for hours without any rest whatsoever.

He loves loves LOVES eye contact. He relishes in the way your features contort in pleasure, the way you open your mouth for a soundless moan to escape, the subtle way your eyes roll back when he hits that spot deep inside you. He just has to see your face during the act.

Alastor is rather proud of his manhood. A bit arrogant even.

So, even though Al won't be the type to directly ask for reassurance on his performance, he finds the validation he needs in your body's reactions to him.

Mommy issues.

Again, it doesn't matter if you're more of a soft and submissive woman, or a powerful and dominant one, YOU ARE MOMMY.

And he's your boy. He's gonna please you till your legs are shaking and your toes are curling.

Are you a pillow princess? He's gonna fuck you like his life depends on it. Pounding into you, making sure you're full of his seed and content. Breeding kink<3

You like being in control of the situation? He's gonna let you have it. In reality, you both know that he can break you in half with one hand behind his back, but he allows you to have him like that.

It's such a big turn on for the radio demon to see you use his body as you please.

Because you don't use it and then discard it afterwards.

You make sure he's warm and cosy at the end of your steamy times. And he does the same with you.

His proper manners show on the way he's gentle with you, after lust gives way to tranquility.

Alastor has never used the word "aftercare" for it but he treats you like a queen regardless.

Once you're both in the bathtub and he's certain you're not in pain or in any discomfort, then he allows himself to relax.

And there he is... rubbing his head against your chest and letting out a small moan when you wrap your arms around his lean frame.

He's also more than happy to eat you out. This man has a very talented tongue and if he teases... Alastor likes to play, but he knows he's gonna be teased back and even denied relief so he is cautious about it.

When you go down on your knees for him, Alastor has to hold himself back from cumming just from the image in front of him.

You're aware of that, so you never go all out and he makes sure to keep his hips still. Lick his head like a lollipop and hold his balls through it and he'll be a whimpering mess, ears pulled back and drool collecting on his lower lip.

Al is big on bonding. He doesn't trust anyone so the fact that he trusts you... You're his partner for life (for afterlife?).

You're not complaining, are you?

Support a struggling university student! Thank you so so much🫶 CLICK HERE(PayPal link)

my masterlist || Hazbin Hotel masterlist 🫀

~~~

Alastor divider by @rubra-wav

Support divider by @cafekitsune

The explicit content one... I don't remember :(

~~~

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colonoscopys · 3 days

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ch. 18

buddie I 900 words I ao3

He’s drunk.

Not the blazing, head so spinny he could hurl if he stood straight, but in the hours after drunk that comes with a dry, heavy tongue and a slurred voice he still has some sort of control over.

Buck’s in the same boat, or—he thinks he must be, he doesn’t know, sitting criss-crossed next to him outside their hotel room door because they can’t, for the life of them, figure out how to put the key card into the door.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck slurs, looking at him with slow, wide-lidded blinks. “Where’s—where’s Chimney?”

He draws out Chimney. Chim-ney.

Eddie shrugs. He can’t make his mouth work for the life of him. He’s pretty sure he saw Chimney two hours ago—before the music started? Or at least when he started singing Maneater with one of the Drag Queens.

Buck knocks a shoulder into his as he slips down the wall, the smell of his hair briefly sifting into his nose. He smells like gin and lemons, and a little bit of that fancy curl product he tresses up his hair with before every fancy event.

I know his hair product, he thinks loosely, tilting his head against the wall as he takes Buck’s weight. I know his hair product, and the way he does his hair before work. I know it all because he helps my son do his hair just the same way. I know it all because my son wants to be like him, so I have learned him, for my son. I know it all because I have learned him. I know it all because I have learned him, for me.

I have learned him. I have earned him.

“Does—” And Fuck, maybe he’s drunker than he thought. “Does Tommy know your curl?”

Buck hums, non-committedly. He hasn’t heard a word Eddie said. He tries again.

“Does,” he spits out. Doooesss. “Tommy.” Ttttommyyyy. “Know.” Know.

Buck lifts his head up and ends up tipping too much to the other side. Eddie grabs him by the forearm, tight. The action feels familiar in ways that Eddie, for the life of him, can't understand.

Buck blinks at him, bright blue eyes stupid dilated. “Does Tommy know what?” He whispers. He draws out his name, too. Tom-my.

Eddie looks at him and loves him.

He’s always known he loves Buck. For the first time in his life, though, he thinks—I love you. What does that make me?

Eddie opens his mouth. The back of his throat burns—maybe from all the tequila shots or the lemons hitting the rim of his teeth or the raw pad of his tongue from licking salt off of Buck’s warm palm.

Does he know what you look like covered in blood, Eddie wants to ask. Does he know what it looks like when you haven’t showered in three days because you’re so depressed you don’t know if water burns more than the sun. Does he know what it looks like when you’ve got ugly red eyes because you’re so sad you don’t even know how to hold it. Does he know what it looks like to see you shining, like a savior, in the worst of the worst, in the worst of your days. Does he know what it’s like to lose you, really lose you, and see you swallowed up by white sheets and a lightning scar across your chest. Does he know what it’s like to be loved by you. Does he know.

He thinks—I love you. What does that make me?

Eddie tries to take a breath but it feels like there’s something crawling up his throat, so he tilts his head back up against the wall and tries to take a breath.

“He’s coming to the wedding,” Buck continues, as Eddie stares at him.

Eddie nods. “Good,” he says. Good. Buck. “Tommy.” Tommy. Tommy.

He looks at Buck and thinks of the answer.

It makes him a dead man, this love. It’ll kill him probably. It has to kill him. It has to be like a disease you can’t hear or smell or breathe, and you have to be alone in the hospital with your blood running in circles beneath your skin. It has to be like a disease that kills you before you take your next breath. It’s killing him.

I love you. What does that make me?

It makes a fucking idiot, is what it makes him, because god he’s always too fucking late, running into stupid relationships after relationships after being too fucking late in the beginning of it all. He is too late. He is too late and he is in love and he is burning up right from the inside.

I love you. What does that make me?

He heaves. He can’t breathe. Buck puts his head back down on his shoulder, and all of a sudden Eddie has to learn how to breathe, or otherwise he’ll disrupt Buck’s rest. He can’t disrupt Buck’s rest.

“Buck,” he starts, opening his mouth. Buck sighs, half-heartedly, and tilts back. He looks at Eddie. Eddie opens his mouth.

“I love you,” he says. Nothing comes out. “What does that make me?”

Buck looks at him, confused. He blinks, like he's thinking it through.

“Eddie.” He draws out his name, slow. Eddie.

#you are allowed. to hate this #buddie fic #evan buckley #911 fic #hello 😇😁#eddie diaz

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sysig · 6 months

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Gotta sweep up all this Dust (Patreon)

#Doodles #Mother 3 #Duster #I am still thinking of He and yet he still hasn't completely come back into my crosshairs #If you can believe it - it was actually the fic printing that was like halfway to the goal of going out of my mind about him again and well-#Lol ♪ I do still plan to! I just underestimated how much of a run-up to him it would be #I'll get there! Certainly keeping busy in the meanwhile lol #But he does get /some/ screentime in the meantime at least haha #I actually injured my own ankle a while ago :P Couldn't tell you exactly when or what but it's been kinda flaring up lately #Mostly when I got for walks - doesn't have to be super long walks either which I'm not super jazzed about #But I did get an ankle compress-brace which has been good for it :) Can walk a bit more regularly!#It was mostly giving my pain away that prompted him back lol sorry Duster #I did at least power up the game to try and see which side his limp is on - it's hard to tell!#It looks like his strides are more confident/longer with his left leg but with the way his sprite mirrors sometimes but not other times #I don't know if he actually says which leg it is somewhere in the game either so I'm just projecting for now lol #I imagine it's only easier to stress out the strong side by overextending - why not both!#It's also still really fun to draw him covered in scars haha #Probably could've gone for arm hair too but it might've muddled the scars and aren't those the important part lol #And a little singy Duster/Lucky to round out :)#I imagine he has a weak voice if he tried projecting but hmm I'm not sure! I really do want to get to know him better!#There's gotta be a reason he was put on the bass right haha #Probably a nice whispery singing voice ♪

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mementoasts · 9 months

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jonathan sims head archivist of the magnus institute london

#IM JUST POSTING HIM RANDOMLY BECAUSE I CANNOOOOOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME DRAW ANYONE ELSE. I HAVE APHANTASIA MAN IT'S HARD OUT HERE #i just started season 3 and heard him mention the graying hair i was like hm.. what if i tried drawring some characters.#i'm actually super happy with how he looks... i had some prior inspiration bc i followed one artist who's posted fanart b4--#(which is how i first heard of the series) and so i already kinda had a picture of him in my head bc of that (i love their art sdfghgfdjh)#so i was jus sketchin and i was like.... yeah this looks ok. i wanted his hair to be kinda just pokin up every which way in front--#--because i imagine him constantly running a hand through it. otherwise it'd look nice n tidy. i just sketched til it looked good enough #the eyes were easy because i wanted sharp and tired. the color was just me testin shit out and being like oooo that looks pretty #the outfit..... i just googled some like business casual stuff LOL. i thought it looked nice #bag and flashlight because he's dungeon crawling #he's also filipino for no reason other than i said so #OHHH YEAH freckles. freckles are cute. also worm scars.#i gotta say i didn't wanna put glasses on him but i thought he looked nakey without em.. but also it might be bc i was strugglin w lineart #the glasses make him look younger i think. which is bad!! he needs to look at least 35!!!#i dunno if i have it in me to draw the others;;;;;;;;;; martin i can't figure out a color scheme for-- and tim & sasha.... waauugghhh....#it's hhhhaaardd because when i'm like reading anything i cannot *picture* characters.... i just get like..... a feeling yknow.....#again i already had some vague images for jon (and martin) bc i saw fanart before lol so that's what showed up in my head #i have a good *feeling* of what sasha should look like but i cannot for the life of me draw it....#i keep sketching and going “noo this doesn't look like her” <- i DON'T know what she looks like #i've somehow instead ended up with a sketch that really feels like melanie tho lmao #if you're somehow at the bottom of this long ramble i will send you $500.#the void given form

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steakout-05 · 26 days

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headcanons i have about Craig the scientist :)

as are most of the characters i have headcanons for, Craig is on the autism spectrum. he has a flat effect to his voice and facial expressions, doesn't really get most social cues, doesn't know how to react to others in pain the "right" way, misunderstands metaphors and speaks in quite a direct manner because it makes the most sense to his brain. he's quite a literal thinker. he also tends to hyperfixate so hard on a task that he forgets his basic needs and hygene, and thus has quite an unkempt look underneath that hazmat suit of his (which i will get into later!). Barry often ends up needing to get Craig something to eat because of how long he hyperfixates on something.

Craig sometimes doesn't exactly pay attention to his tone of voice, so sometimes he can say something that, to him, sounds completely normal, but because of his tone, can end up sounding really ominous to other people by accident ("We know who you are, Barry.")

Craig has traumatic cataract in his left eye (or wherever the fuck craig's visor crack is supposed to be in canon lol) from the explosion in 'Level 2' and is half blind in that eye. his eye has a very clouded look as a result of the injury. he's also got a huge scar there too that required some pretty gnarly stitches later, and his skin is almost completely numb around that area.

Craig also never really had the best eyesight before the injury, so he's always wearing these big ol' nerdy glasses underneath his helmet. and yes, they are tacked together with a band-aid lol

Craig is one of the few scientists who is not a clone of Peter Simpkins, the late friend of both Professor Brains and (in my headcanon'd canon) Craig. i like to think that Craig and Simpkins knew each other when they were first recruited by Legitimate Research and was pretty close to both him and Brains, and since Simpkins died, Brains has kind of taken more of a liking towards Craig (mostly out of loneliness and needing someone to help around at the lab, but he has a genuine fondness for him under his demanding and angry exterior).

There's a bit of a fan theory that Craig is the same guy as the scientist in the 'Robot Bird' rock opera, which i like to believe is the case. i mean, he's got the same monotone voice as Craig, it's gotta be him. i hope this does end up becoming canon because i think it'd make for an interesting conflict between Barry and Craig!!

Craig may or may not be related to Lab Lady.

Craig's counterpart in the mirror universe is named Kayla.

Craig is demiromantic and is questioning his sexuality (he thinks he might be bi or pan), though he definitely knows he loves Barry <3

Craig has an unhealthy habit of wiping his embarrassing memories, like, a lot. he wipes memories of awkward accidents in the lab, particularly painful failures, and most importantly, the memories of losing literally all his stuff and his career to Barry, which is why he doesn't immediately recognise him in the shorts. Craig has a lot of trouble recounting stories from the past because of this memory-wiping and felt a sense of emptiness, which getting hit in the head certainly didn't help with, so he tried inventing that apple in the Multiverse Madness event to get some of them back. it was pure dumb luck that Barry didn't end up witnessing what happened to Craig in the 'Robot Bird' opera and both are completely unaware of the disastrous can of worms that could have opened. bro's gonna end up like wallflower blush if he doesn't keep that memory erasing under control

and finally...

under his helmet, Craig has messy dirty-blonde hair, a rounded face that has a few stray facial hairs he forgot to shave, a long scar down the left side of his face, hazel coloured eyes and pale skin. this design is inspired by the designs made by @dexterno-artz and @schnabel53 respectively :D

this is a sketch of my finalised(ish) craig design!!! i've shown earlier versions of this guy in a couple of older posts but i haven't really revised his design much until now. i kinda had the idea of him looking like a stereotypical nerd and then made him messier. i might tone the amount of hair he has down a tiny bit but also i really like the nerdy bird's nest thing he has goin on :) i like to think he literally hasn't brushed his hair in several weeks and it's just become a bird's nest from nights of staying up doing science stuff

how i feel about barry tbh. he's literally so dumb i love him

(also apologies for the photos being kinda blurry and me forgetting to turn off the filter. again. in my defence it looks really nice and orange on my phone)

sometimes i like drawing him saying stuff from the shorts to get a feel of how he'd look when talking and make sure he looks juuuust nerdy enough for me to go "yep that's craig". also his big,g, handns,s,

drew this as a quick side profile sketch to get a general idea of how i want to draw him from this angle. he's talking to barry offscreen and falling in love with him <3

stupid little comic with a stupid little interaction that would definitely happen between these stupid little guys <3 barry being a little asshole every now and then is very entertaining to me. i need to see him antagonising craig and starting an old couple bickering argument with craig, that would heal me i think

i think i'll post more of this design in the future, i really quite like it a lot :)

#jetpack joyride #craig jetpack joyride 2 #jetpack joyride 2 #headcanon design #yeag sorry the photos are so fucked looking #my room does not have good lighting.... like..... at all #my sketchbook is also literally falling to pieces lmao #i'm gonna get a new one soon but damn. my poor sketchbook #i didnt even do anything to it....... why must it fall apart and die on me..........#anyway YEAH craig design!!!!#i quite like this design a lot #i feel like there's something that could be added to it but i don't wanna make his design more complicated than it already is #that first drawing of him kinda looks like his eye is bleeding lol #it's just a really big scar dw #craig having traumatic cataract was inspired by my dog getting traumatic glaucoma in his eye #also i think craig would go hard as like. a character who's similar to wallflower blush #except instead of everyone forgetting her but her remembering them #it's craig forgetting everything that happened to him and then finding a way to restore the memories and then he gets SO PISSED at barry #they'll sure need a lot of couple's counselling after that blunder #i kinda wanna make designs for steve and toni #especially steve!!!#how do you think they'd identify steve from the other scientists. would barry just stick a big piece of paper with an S on it to his face #answering my own question: yes he would absolutely do that #steve is the one i feel like both barry and craig tease the most #i find steve literally being so nervous about being perceived that he runs away and damages property to be extremely relatable #also fun fact: craig's hair and eye colours are kinda based off the colour i see the word craig in???#ok this is gonna be tricky to explain but i think i might have grapheme colour synesthesia #it's basically a condition where you can see or VERY heavily associate colours to a specific number or letter #and for some reason my brain has christened 'craig' as being a very specific sort of yellowy green! it's what i see in my head when i think #-of the word 'craig' so i decided to make him kinda blonde and have hazel eyes (which is basically a mix of green and yellow)!! neato!!

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galaxyofender · 2 years

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well. this took longer than i thought it was going to. have a silly little comic about martyn and doc!

(the bottles from the river bit is a reference to fallen london, if you’re wondering)

#galaxyofart #inthelittlewood #itlwart #some notes about the designs:#martyn's design is a simplified version of what it is supposed to be #because i appreciate my wrist thank you #that and drawing it as detailed as it is supposed to be looks weird with my artstyle being pretty simple #the golden cracks are scars! they're inspired by kintsugi and i love how they look so they are staying for my vtuber martyn art #now with doc. i ended up giving him a different outfit than the one we've been shown of him #mostly because i rewatched the little lore video like some idk five times and i still didn't quite understand what the fuck doc was even-#-wearing? so i decided to change it into something that made more sense to my brain #also also #i know that the overlap between ''watches gebsart'' and ''trafficblr'' is probably just me #but drawing doc felt like just drawing gebs without the mask #i think it's mostly the hair and glasses #so. if i ever draw doc without the glasses and make his eyes green it's a gebs reference!#but also that would work too even if it wasn't a joke about gebs? like. if martyn is mostly green with blue eyes (doc's color or at least-#-it is in my art) then it makes sense that doc would be mostly blue with green eyes #so having the other's color in their eyes would be a nice way to show that they are connected to each other?#okay now im done with rambling on the tags #okay no one last thing #with the FL reference. i want to make stuff about martyn in the neath now #he would be a nemesis ambition person i think #but im biased because that's my ambition too-#OKAY NOW IM DONE

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favoure · 2 years

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I love fics where you see the relationship develop from like, the outsider pov. Sadly i've seen none for scarian which sucks and i hope to write it... but really the only povs i've written so far are scar and grian's

WAGHGJFHSDHFGJHSDFSDF OMGGGG WAIT YEA THAT SOUNDS SO COOLLLL can be like an anthology vibe sorta thing with a chapter dedicated to one pov of maybe the other hermits ???? IDK im rotating this around in my mind now tho AHHHH

#asks for ain #scarian #hermitshipping #IF U EVER DECIDE TO WRITE THIS ANON....... JUST KNOW THAT U HAVE 1 READER ALREADY [MEEEE ME ME ME]#idk im just thinking up scenes now of like. them exchanging casual touches w each other like LIKEEEEEEEE LISTENNNNN #g having a rough elytra landing n scar fixing up his collar n ruffled hair.......#or like g reaching out to pick off the leaves n twigs that sometimes get stuck in scar's hair #or a hermit overhearing g asking for an elven kiss but like. YOU KNOWWWWW NOT THE COOKIE KINDDDDDDDDD ^_^ [FALLS OVER]#or maybe even just the way they Look at each other yk. like theres something More There #GIRL HELP IDK. IM JUST. OUT HERE SAYING SHIT IS TIHS ANYTHING !!!!!!!!!!!!!#goooooooooddddddddddd i should not be allowed to think of these two while sleep i come up with the most. YEA #i dont think i can draw tonight the more i think about it im too much of an eepy fella #maybe i'll go bonkers instead n run around in circles until i pass out

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petrichorvoices · 2 years

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.. perhaps we should make a Native Cecil design

#this is a response to a recent ask Bulk got #like. we’re Native. i’m a Native Cecil fictive #and it would be nice to have a design for the character separate from myself #give us a few days since we can’t figure out Procreate and are out of town so don’t have Krita rn #and we may figure something out #i mean i’d want it to look at least kinda like me just cause i think it’d be fun #white hair in a braid maybe??? or maybe not white but like. black and white? black and whitening?#i will absolutely specifically make him Métis like us and find a way to incorporate that into the design like #OH I COULD FIND WAYS TO INCORPORATE A SASH OR FLORAL BEADWORK INTO HIS OUTFITS!!!!#maybe Hudson’s Bay striped blankets like. those stripes but on some other article of clothing as a subtle nod #i Will give him scars because i have a ton and i think it’d be neat #i’m not going to give him the extent of mine like. i’m genuinely more scar tissue than untouched skin. but one or two or so #tattoos…… i’ll need to do more research but i think i’d like him to have tattoos #black eyes. not like completely black but normal and dark dark dark brown to the point they look black eyes #high nose bridge probably?#i’m going to make him short so i feel better about myself. i’m 4’10 in the headspace. anyway he should get four eyes i think #i want to do something with furs considering we just got some recently but like. desert. hmmm.. rabbitskin pouch or something?? i’ll figure #it out later on. also i want to give him a cane. i am Going to give him a cane #the temptation to give him facial hair is strong thank you Mx Hummus but also you #don’t see a lot of Native men with it and also i can’t fucking draw it. we’ll see #bookmark #rambling #Cecil's tag

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postmortemnivis · 2 months

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no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simons a loverboy at heart #simon is not ghost

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sysig · 2 years

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He’s everywhere, this guy (Patreon)

Bonus:

#Doodles #Deltarune #Spamton #More of him! The most even! Ridiculous #I had to draw him crying for many reasons #I mean does it even count if I don't draw a new muse crying? No. Also I was mad at him for NEO being such a hard boss fight lol #Big bubbly tears still falling down his cheeks even as he shuts off hmmm ♪#I don't fully remember why I had his cheeks smudgey there? Might be to do with my headcanon about his ''transformation'' but idk lol #I am rather pleased with how that set turned out even if I did draw him a bit too close in order so his nose got in the way haha #Going from clear to fuzzed but still in colour to just static was unintentional but I'm quite pleased with it #Happy accidents ♪#An isolated laughing Spam - hopefully the reaction that one's linked to will post sometime in the nearish future lol #I was very pleased with how his mouth and jaw turned out in that one and so continued it #For the one where he's pointing I was trying to do the Joker ''You wanna know how I got these scars'' but like #So I wrote that out and it looked too weirdly plain for Spamton dialogue so I changed it and now it's unrecognizable lol #I guess that's in keeping lol #Then a small lineup! Nice #I do honestly love how nerdy and unassuming AddiSpam looks there hehe ♪ He'd never do anything to anybody! Right?#And then his glasses and his hair and his cheeks getting a bit of a colour~#And then finally fully opaque :3c Hm hm ♪ It pleases me lol #And then more silly puppet jaw shenanigans #If you're on desktop you can move quickly between the last three and it acts like a small animation :)#That first one makes me laugh haha he looks so blankly pleased #For the bonus I was thinking about OFF's little Spectre ''Haha''s y'know the ones #For some reason whenever I look at Spamton Pepper Steak All Levels at Once Remix plays in my head #Chaos

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kissitbttr · 5 months

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nobody understands how you did it.

how you managed to swept him off his feet, breaking the walls he had built pieces by pieces, how the fuck did you get him to be comfortable with you? to be open with you? and only with you.

‘never seen him this happy or loose in a long time, lass. what’s your trick, eh?’ the captain pulls a joke, making the rest of the team laugh. ‘i think I speak for everyone when i say, he never brings a girl out. let alone introducing her to us.’

that one is true. years of being friends with ghost, the captain nor his closest friend ‘soap’ has ever seen him out on a date. they encouraged him though, since there have been so many women tried their ways to get close with the big guy, yet none of them succeed.

the masked men would often just shrug them off and give one hard cold answer. they would back away immediately

“guess i just have my ways” is what you always say. even soap couldn’t register how it happened. he couldn’t figure it out himself, he knows the lad way longer than you do.

they don’t believe you. because there is no way in hell that all you did was to bat your lashes, show him your adorable giggle and he was in. there’s gotta be more to it.

so what is it about you that draws him close? what is it about you that makes ghost’s eyes light up each time you step into the room? what is it about you that makes ghost’s heart skip a beat every time he talks to you?

certainly not because how you’re so patient in getting to know with him, right? not because how you trace his scars ever so lightly and call them pretty every single time he’s doubtful about himself. not because how you console him with ‘I’ve got you, baby’ each night a nightmare comes back to haunt him while rubbing his back soothingly. not because how you shower him with soft, gentle kisses to remind him that your love for him is bigger than anyone could have offered. not because how you understand why he can’t say the three letter words to you, just yet. still, you stick around.

definitely not, right? there’s no way. he’s simon ghost riley. no one or nothing could ever be good enough to make this man come out of his shell. it’s impossible, right? you’ll need a miracle for that.

“love?” you hear a voice calls, along with the sound of keys being tossed into a ceramic bowl. heavy boots thumping against the marble floor,

you step out of the kitchen. long hair tied up into a messy updo, clear frame glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. dressed in one of his favorite sleeping gown as your eyes locked with his brown ones. the balaclava still attached to mask his handsome face.

scarred lips stretch into a smile the moment his beautiful fiancé emerges from the kitchen.

he drops his bag onto the floor, pulling the mask off of him slowly. revealing his disheveled blond hair as he takes slow steps towards you.

“hi, baby” your voice brings him home. no soul could ever take away from him. he longs for that angelic tone each time he gets deployed. three or six months without listening to you speak to him is just insanity.

he’d rather lose his hearing entirely than not having to hear you at all.

he’s quick to embrace you in his arms. your face hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling that signature scent of his that you had missed, dearly.

“what are you making?” he mumbles into the crown of your hair, giving it a peck before pulling away slightly to take a good look at you. “it smells good”

“your favorite” you kiss his chin, causing his cheeks to redden at the affection. “i even bought those lumpias down the 112th street. i know how much you love them. pretzels bites from the deli for snacks aaand, black pepper beef with rice for your dinner. sounds good?”

simon leans against the doorway as he watches you plate everything. rambling about everything. his smile widens even more at your domestic antics. the way you talk with your hands as you mention another annoying co-worker that keeps bugging you and the way you roll your eyes when a splash of gravy spill from the plate.

truly is a sight.

“why are you looking at me like that?” your lips raise into a curious smile, finger moving a dark lock that sticks into your forehead,

he gives you a small shrug. gaze not leaving you neither does his smile.

“you’re just so beautiful”

something so simple yet it makes your stomach fills with butterflies.

you chew on your lower lip to prevent you from smiling too much, but a hint of blush is dusting your cheeks betrays you.

“come, papi… don’t want the food to get cold now, do we?” you change the subject while you nod your head towards the empty seat across. “eat with me”

the two of you sit there while making a small talk. stealing glances every second. feeding each other’s food. soft laughs fall upon both of your mouths when one make a terrible joke.

something you’d see when two people are in love. c

so yes, the answer to that question. it is possible. because you made it possible. you made it possible for him to love again. even if he had to start all over. you made it possible for him to be vulnerable. you gave him a purpose the moment he thought things were looking bad for him.

he found a solace within your existence.

only you made it possible to bring the simon in him.

vbecause you. are his home

#simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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Jason loves kneeling before you and holding onto your waist as he burrows his face into your stomach, all the while you have your hand buried deep into his hair as they combed their way through, playing with the ends as he childishly groans at you to keep going whilst holding onto your waist tighter.

You were Jason’s safe place, the first and possibly only person who shown him kindness, love and compassion without seeking for something for yourself. Jason oftentimes doesn’t think your real but with the way you felt beneath his scarred and calloused hands, it was more then enough to show him that you were more then real.

His angel, his beloved, his first experience of kindness, his everything, his anchor. You were everything and so much more to Jason that he honesty doesn’t know how he managed to scrap by life without you kissing his wounds as you help patch him up.

Dick loves resting on top of you, and this was more evident when he’s had a rough day and is in need of a bit of comfort, but doesn’t want to bother you in asking for it. So he just wordlessly collapses on top of you and crushing you beneath his weight, intentionally ignoring your complaints as he gets himself comfortable before burrowing his head into your neck as he rants about the awful day he’s had into your ear.

He liked the fact that you listen to him, allowed him the space to speak openly and freely without judgement, even offering up advice when he needed it as you pressed kisses into his head in hopes of soothing his oncoming headache.

Angel kisses as Dick often calls them and will even over exaggerate the day he’s had just to feel your healing kisses against his skin, smiling at the feeling of you beneath him safe and sound, even if he was crushing you but he claims that it was his love for you that was actually crushing you…what a doofus but he’s your doofus and he refuses to let you forget it.

Damian has a sketchbook full of you and his pets doing stupid things.He has sketches of you and Titus taking a nap together, you and Ace cuddling up on the couch together during movie night, and lastly Damian had a sketch of you and Alfred the Cat sunbathing on the steps leading up towards the Wayne manor. They were all too silly and goofy for him but the fact that he felt compelled to draw, and later immortalise these moments into his artwork, said a lot more than he was willing to let on how he felt about you.

He won’t ever admit it but he likes that you’ve developed a deep enough connection with Titus, Ace or Alfred to be able to do these sort of things without them getting agitated or annoyed. His pets mean a lot to him and for you to be accepted by them was enough for Damian to start trusting you more often.

Damian would watch over you as you took a nap in his room despite knowing that nothing will ever get to you here. He won’t allow it. He was an highly trained ruthless assassin for fucks sake and he’d relinquish that title real fast if you were to ever be brought to harm under his watch. Which doesn’t come to pass because if there’s anywhere you could feel the slightest bit safe, it’s the Wayne Manor. It warms Damian’s heart to see that even Titus was overprotective of you too and would often guard you as you slept but laying himself at your feet, staring at the door as though he was waiting for something to try and get to you while he and Damian where here. Damian guessed that the rumour was true that sooner or later the dog would start to act/ look like the owner.

Bruce Wayne -THE BATMAN- loves the sweet kisses that you’d decided to leave on his cheek whenever he has to leave for somewhere important. He considers them his blessings from you and will keep an internal headcount of how many you’ve given him, with the current score being about thirty five to fourth five at the very least. Neither you nor him had a clue when this became a thing but the action of kissing the other’s cheek had quickly became a much loved tradition of yours.

He’d respond to your cheek kisses in kind with his own, which never fails to leave you smiling widely and warm within your chest, as you were left to feel the lingering of his kiss on your cheek for the rest of the day. The action may not look like much to others, but it was enough affirmation for you and Bruce to know that the love you both have for each other was still alive and strong after being together for so long.

He still tries to spoil you by bolting you things but you had to physically prevent him from bringing out his credit card the moment he spots you looking at something for a second too long. You didn’t give a shit about the fact that he was Bruce Wayne the billionaire, you only cared about Bruce Wayne the sweetest yet semi-awkward man you’ve ever met in your life. When he asks you what it is that you wanted from him, you’d reply with, ‘love, affection in any form that you are most comfortable with. I couldn’t care less for materialistic things because a simple touch of a hand or kiss to a cheek would prove priceless in comparison.’ And Bruce had respect your wish ever since…with several gifts bought now and then for special occasions he could surprise you with.

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luveline · 9 months

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Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle).

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation.

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be.

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this.

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want."

"Then leave me alone," he says.

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus."

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions.

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks.

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve.

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep.

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek.

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while.

"I'm so sorry," Remus says.

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause.

You struggle to see him in the dark.

"I should never have spoken to you like that."

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it."

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear.

"I'm too tired," you mumble.

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front.

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows.

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just…

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word.

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch.

"I love you," you say.

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this.

"So don't be sorry."

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way."

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you."

"I know," he utters.

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first.

"I'm sorry."

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone."

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper.

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that."

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips.

"I love you," he says into it.

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night.

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?"

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head.

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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yanderenightmare · 3 months

Text

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon

fem reader

Thinking about massive beefcakes again...

Big, brawny warriors who're carved with both muscles and battle scars – who still have some blood on their hands they couldn't bother washing off before claiming their pretty little war prize.

Oh, but he's so gentle with you. No threats on his lips, just a smile as he lets his large hands do all the talking – that, and the bloody axe he left leaning against the wall of your humble hut. So big, you wouldn't even be able to carry it if you used both hands.

And speaking about needing to use both hands...

You straddle his lap while working his massive cock – trembling as you wrap your fingers around the base, one hand stacked on top of the other, fingertips curling around his shaft – unable to reach around it while rubbing over fat veins that pulse beneath your soft touch.

He coos at you – tells you you’re doing so, so good for him, how he’s going to reward you real soon – how he won't hurt you so long as you do what he wants.

Oh, and you're so scared – so very scared of those large scathed paws holding you steady at the hips as he rubs his thick manhood against your stomach – throbbing between your ribs – a good measurement for how far inside he would try to push.

There’s just no way you can possibly cram all of that inside you, is there?

You hadn't even noticed you were crying. Fat tears slip from brimming in your eyes, sliding down your cheeks and splattering on the hair of his broad chest.

He told you to breathe, and you realized you’d been holding it in. He told you to relax – but tears only kept falling when his hand reached under to cup your scared little sex – his calloused fingers a strange type of friction on the lips of your pussy, ticklish in a sense, sending energy splurging through your core.

Oh, but ain't you just the sweetest little thing. “You’re so wet, baby~” He hummed, voice thick with heat as his finger slid playfully through the slick pooling from your slit.

You whimpered at his teasing, and he hushed you – cooing at you while his fat fingers started prepping your tight little hole for him with a thumb rubbing over your clit – still nothing harsh – just grazing the slit, letting your body know to prepare itself for him.

You almost wished he would just push you down, tower over you, and do it all swiftly – because you weren't sure just how much of this your poor heart could take. You heard its pitter-pattering in your head, felt it drum in your fingertips, in your toes, thumping where his hands were taunting your tender flesh – petting the silk as it wept for more.

You felt something curl – coil – wind like an adder in your gut along with butterflies. Soon, glossing his entire hand with arousal.

You heard the chuckle as he filled you up with one of his digits – long and thick with muscle, bumpy at the knuckles as it eased inside you – swirling around your velvet walls, all wet and fluttering for him – then followed by another – still with his thumb drawing sweet circles into your swollen clit, making you clench around the two fingers tightly with an ever-so-sweet moan spilling from your lips.

He groaned at the sensitivity – the stimuli and response at his fingertips – how impressionable you were for him. So sweet and pliant – knowing you were but a sheep caught on wolf claws.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, a sloppy grin showing teeth as his lips brushed up your collar with wet praise – his tongue hot as he licked up your throat with warm breath ever so very intimately – puffing like a hound as he bit your earlobe playfully, letting you know with thick rust, “I think you’re ready to take me.”

Oh, how he loved the way you tensed – knowing he had you completely in his palm – hooked right on his fingers – and soon on his cock.

BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji, AFO, All Might, Mirio

JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku

DS – Doma

HxH – Uvogin

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daycourtofficial · 23 days

Text

In a world of boys, he’s a ✨gentleman✨

Summary: based on this request - your friends help walk you through all the nice things Azriel does for you

Author’s note: I forgot all about this tbh lmao why was this just sitting in my drafts all alone

“I think Azriel has the best manners,” Feyre says, her cheeks glowing from the wine, wisps of brown hair coming out from her braid.

“And the biggest wingspan,” Mor adds, raising her blonde eyebrows.

“I’m serious,” Feyre turns to Mor, “he’s so polite, he cleans up after himself, he treats (y/n) like a queen, he-“

You choke on your wine. “Treats who like what?”

Mor slaps your shoulder, causing you to almost spill your glass. “Oh, do not start this again, I will scream.”

“Start what?”

Mor rolls her eyes, falling back on the couch, “pretending like you don’t know how nice Azriel is to you.”

Your face heats involuntarily. “He’s very nice to me, I’m well aware of that. He’s a nice guy.”

Mor groans, getting up for more wine, “see! This is what I’m talking about!”

Nesta and Feyre giggle, but you sit up, “what do you mean what you’re talking about? What is wrong with me thinking that he’s nice to me?”

Feyre’s giggles continue, “it’s not that, sweetie. It’s just… he’s exceptionally nice to you.”

“So? We’re friends.”

Mor chimes in, “if any male was as nice to Nesta as Azriel is to you, Cassian would slit his throat.”

“Cassian’s more of a hands-on brute, but I see your point,” Nesta corrects.

“Friends don’t act like the two of you do,” Feyre muses, refilling her wine glass.

Soft touches, sitting needlessly close to each other at gatherings, Feyre catching the two of you napping on her couch on multiple occasions.

“He always blushes around you,” Elain observes.

Images of Azriel’s reddened cheeks and ears flood your memory, and how adorable you’d find it.

“He always asks you if it’s okay for him to pick you up to fly.”

A montage of soft “may I?” and “is this okay?” flutter through your mind. His soft touches of your hair when you’d take off, knowing it was your least favorite part, trying to comfort you in some way.

“He pulls out your chair for you at every family dinner.”

“-and plates her food!”

Azriel’s scarred hands grab the back of your chair, a soft scraping noise filling your ears, replaced by your soft “thank you”.

He sits next to you, grabbing your plate reflexively, piling it with roast, carrots, and potatoes, knowing to avoid the celery.

You thank him again, oblivious to Cassian’s exasperated arm movements at the two of you, as well as Nesta’s immediate swatting of him.

Elain giggles, “he always comes by every Sunday asking me to help him arrange a bouquet for her.”

Nesta smirks as the other two females let out soft “ooooh”s, as if you all were gossipy teenagers. Maybe you were. Your eyes draw towards the bouquet sitting on the table in front of Elain, the pink and yellow hues making you smile.

“He always has a hand on you whenever you’re out in town.”

The warmth from his hand is a welcome presence on your lower back as you two push through the crowds of the Velaris stalls. You prefer going out into town with him in tow - he was much taller than you and could see over the crowds.

Not to mention how he carried all of your bags and you spent the rest of the day catching his scent on your clothes afterwards.

“I’m not even sure you own your own coat from him lending you his.”

Nights out at Rita’s always ended with the two of you walking along the Sidra, his arm around your shoulder. He’d always wait for you to start shivering before placing his coat around your shoulders, helping your arms into the sleeves.

You scratch at your neck, uncomfortable with all the attention on you. “That doesn’t mean anything… right?”

Mor huffs, dramatically falling back on the couch after draining her glass, “I can’t explain this again.”

“Ask him out,” Feyre says, while Nesta nods her head, “just do it.”

As if the Mother herself were in the room gossiping with you all, Azriel strolls into the room, a bit shocked when five pairs of eyes peer back at him, amusement in four pairs, adoration in one pair.

You can’t help the smile that graces your face when you see him, and Nesta loudly placing her cup on the table jolts you out of your trance.

“Will you- would you,” you clear your throat, rushing the words out before you get too scared, turned in your seat to peer at him, “would you like to have dinner? Tonight? With me? Alone?”

Mor and Feyre are trying, but failing, to hold in their giggles at your nervousness, but you have completely forgotten they were in the room with you.

Azriel’s lips curve into a smile, “I would love to. I can pick you up at 7?”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar writing

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heresan · 5 months

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"We're serious about each other, right?" You begin softly as you’re snuggled up against Wriothesley in his private chambers. Your fingers trace patterns along his bare chest marred with two diagonal scars that's parallel to each other on his pec and upper abs. You wonder what's the story behind this one, like many other scars he received on his body but you suppose he'll come around to tell you about it with time.

"Yes, I'm serious about you." His arm that's tucked under you slows the gentle caressing of your skin, as his other arm goes to wrap around your waist drawing you closer, and he presses a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Why? Do you have doubts?"

You feel a little embarrassed for even bringing this topic of conversation up because it made you feel vulnerable. You and Wriothesley have been spending a great deal of time together, some evenings more intimate than others. But you would like to know where this is going, if you both want the same things because you are dating with the intention of marrying.

"It's just that... you never officially asked me to be yours."

"Do you want me to ask you?" He says with an understanding nod, brushing strands away from your pretty face as he gazes fondly at you. "If you need it, I will happily do so."

There's an apparent curve on your lips despite your previous uncertainty since he's willing to do this one little thing for you. "Is it silly of me that I want you to? I don't want to assume that we're exclusive if you didn't feel the same way. And I suppose I'll have a more definite answer for my mother who keeps wanting to set me up with her friend's son from her women's book club."

"No, it's not silly at all, sweetheart. I will ask you officially." He replies, a small smile gracing his features. "Will you一" He cuts himself off briefly to take a moment to think and steady himself. "Will you be mine, Y/N? I suppose I should've asked you from the moment I knew I wanted to be with you. I would like to be romantic partners with you, if you'll have me."

You feel a wave of giddiness wash over you, and you bury your face in his chest for a moment as your smile broadens into a heartfelt grin. Wriothesley chuckles as he smooths a hand over your hair. "So now that I've asked... will you accept? Do I get to spend the rest of my days with you?"

Your soft laughter tickles against his skin, and when you come up to meet his handsome face again you lean in for a quick peck against the softness of his lips. "Of course, I'm going to accept. I love being with you and I care about you so much, how could I not say yes?"

Wriothesley traps you in his strong hold as his smile remains, his chin tucking into your shoulder and he squeezes you gently. "Thank you for choosing me." He murmurs quietly, his breathing coming out in content sighs as he places a tender kiss on your neck and cheek. "Now you can tell your mother that you've found someone. And I believe introductions are in order, isn't that right darling?"

#wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x fem reader #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines

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