#but god. would like them to know they're on my mind regardless

[jazzypizzaz]

I like donating regularly to several places, but how much can I give them to STOP MAILING ME

[shadykazama]

Hello! Your headcanons on Wukong/Destined One had me giggling so much 😊 they're so great, couldn't stop rereading.

Um, if it's alright, can I ask for some Wukong/Destined One x Reader with their baby? Feral daddy monkey in his nesting phase with his mate and baby is so— 🤭

Absolutely! I have a lot of thoughts and the people demand more monkey business- so let's get down to it.

❤ Wukong

Starting with the pregnancy~

He is ELATED.

The idea of a proper heir had never crossed his mind because well- he's immortal. He doesn't need one. But that doesn't mean the idea of his own flesh and blood isn't positively exciting.

There's a chance he knows you're pregnant before you do. What with all of his special powers and heightened senses.

Celebrates privately with you of course but it becomes a mountain-wide event very quickly.

You are showered with praise and blessings by all the monkeys.

He will never miss a chance to brag that he's going to have a baby. And he's definitely smug about it too, thinks your child is going to surpass even his power.

When you start showing he gets more smothering.

Don't forget our king's fatal flaw! He thinks he knows what's best.

Will limit how much you travel and makes sure you always have at least two attendants by your side while he's gone.

Which, once you get further along, isn't often. There were plenty of superstitions about pregnancy in ancient China, as well as a high infant mortality rate- and that's not even counting what complications could happen due to the magical nature of your child. So he'd be stressed.

He expresses stress through aggression (canon), though it's never pointed at you. He'd be fiercely protective over the mountain, but especially any of the areas you regularly stay in. He'd be very snappy at everyone for the entire second half of the pregnancy, except you of course, who he'd be showering with praise and reverence.

Likes holding your stomach while you rest and tells your baby about the great lineage they're being born into, recounting his titles and strength and promising them they'd be greater.

He's hoping for a boy, but he's assured his child will be spectacular regardless of the gender.

When you give birth he will be extremely focused. He can't afford to be weak in a moment when you need him most. (Though your cries of pain and effort will certainly make his heart ache.)

As you're holding your baby for the first time, his teasing, smug attitude is nowhere to be seen. He just looks at you as if you'd given him the universe itself.

Cutest baby ever might I add 👆.

It's a Chinese tradition that only immediate family is allowed to meet the baby for the first 100 days after it's born, so it'd just be you and him for a majority of three months unless you invite your family to meet them.

In traditional fashion, on the 100th day a banquet is held to officially introduce the baby to everyone. And MY GOD would it be an event...

Besides all of the monkeys on the mountain who want to celebrate their new prince/princess, I can't even imagine how many celestials and demons would come to pay their respects and blessings- be it out of fear or respect.

Either way, expect a very long day and a LOT of gifts.

^ Wukong doesn't leave your side for the entire day. I dare someone to try and pull something.

You'd expect with his trickster personality that he'd be a very lenient dad, but Wukong is surprisingly dutiful in making sure your child doesn't turn out lazy or ignorant.

That by no means is to say he wouldn't be a wonderfully playful father. He'd have a wonderful connection with his child, and his most important lesson to them would be to respect their mother ;)

More of a one kid kind of guy, so he'd probably stop after the first, unless you had twins or triplets.

As protective as he was with you when you were pregnant, he's pretty chill with the actual kid. He knows they're durable and will let them get roughed up doing dumb stuff.

Carries them around hanging off his tail and will pretend like he doesn't know where they went.

It's like how cats will let their babies 'sneak up on them' to encourage them to keep trying. He does the same thing with your kid when they try to trick him.

Your baby would be the most respectful little shit ever. A little shit nonetheless, but would do anything for you or their father.

All the monkeys on the mountain help keep an eye on the little sage so you'll never feel lost or alone in parenting. It's very much a joined effort and your baby will see the other monkeys as their family as well!

This wonderful piece of Sun Wukong was done by @kanade-howl here on tumblr! They post their work on Twitter as well at @kanaade_ and @_liehuzuo please support them!

💙 The Destined One

Give him a bunch of babies I beg you.

He'd get addicted, he wants a big family for SURE.

When you first tell him you're pregnant he'll probably take some time to fully soak it in.

You'll be used to being patient with him at this point, but I imagine something like this is really nerve wracking so don't feel bad if you rush him for a response.

He'll put a hand on your stomach as if he's checking for himself before picking you up and smothering you with love.

He's not a chatty guy but he'll let you know how happy he is!

^ That being said, during your pregnancies is the most talkative he'll ever be.

He doesn't want you to stress about communicating and knows your body is going through a lot so he pushes himself to talk more to make sure you get everything you need.

That doesn't mean he'll be a chatterbox by any means. More than nothing is still very slim :')

Expect a lot of one word questions.

Trusts you more than he trusts his own instincts. His instincts tell him you shouldn't be climbing or moving around much- but if you want to, who's he to tell you what to do? He's not the one pregnant 🤷‍♀️

Follows you around like a guard dog when you do though, doesn't matter what you're doing.

Somehow even more physically affectionate than normal. Will insist on holding your hand when you walk so you can lean your weight on him.

When you start showing he'll be amazed. It's not that he's never seen a pregnant person before but like... That's his baby in there and he can't believe it.

His favorite thing to do is lay his head against your stomach while you're resting. Will kiss your skin and adore the life you're making.

You can catch him whispering things to your baby while he's resting his head on your stomach.

Your body is going to ache and he is more than happy to massage it for you. He doesn't even need an excuse to touch you, but he'll find them anyway.

Once you get further along and it gets harder for you to get around, he'll pick you up and take your wherever you want to go- within reasonable distance from your home of course. Not because he can't take you further, he just doesn't want to in case something happens.

But he wants to make sure you get fresh air and still see the beauty outside of your bed.

Doesn't trust anyone to watch you. It's him or nothing.

Makes offerings and prays to the goddess of childbirth. He does this a few times before you catch him and start helping.

He's a bundle of nerves when you're giving birth. If you weren't preoccupied, it'd probably be painfully obvious how nervous he was.

Holds you while you hold your baby and will not stop telling you how much he loves you and how perfect the baby is.

Gets baby fever bad.

Baby will be spoiled, and so will any other baby after that.

Huge advocate for carrying the baby. If you're not opposed to it, he probably carries them more than you.

Has the most deadpan look on his face as he looks at this baby but he has so much adoration for his little miracle.

Stressing over your baby crying in the middle of the night? Not with him! He's at that babies beck and call.

Watching a nearly mute man deal with a curious child is definitely amusing and you get a front row seat.

Your children kind of just accept that their dad doesn't talk much, but he'll always tell them he loves them if they say it to him.

Takes them everywhere with him so he can teach them. Is SO proud when the oldest starts helping teach the younger ones.

He's proud of them in general honestly.

Your kids are going to be super loving and curious. I think he'd foster really healthy relationships between all of them.

You'd have a whole team taking care of you if you ever got sick.

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Mizu Being Jealous•°

Mizu isn't naturally a possessive person by any means. She knows the shit women have to go through, being controlled by others and the world.

So, she'd never be dominating towards you or think she has any say in what you do.

That being said, while she trusts you wholeheartedly... she doesn't trust other people. Particularly other men.

Men who view you as just a pretty face. A prize they'd want nothing more than to steal away from her.

Now that just won't do.

See, if it's an easy matter such as someone touching you or groping you without your consent, say no more.

Their fingers? Gone. Their arms? Sliced clean from their body.

If some sleazy flesh trader sets their eyes on you and begins chatting you up, their hand sneaking to places on your body only meant for her touch alone, well...

They're dead. Plain as that. She'll waste no time in tearing them to shreds with her sword, their viscera painting the walls.

And, with blood stained hands she'll cradle your face, her cold demon exterior vanished.

She'll look at you like you're her whole world, which you are. She will protect you to the ends of the earth.

When it's a lascivious man vying for your attention, Mizu doesn't get jealous. She gets protective.

But, when it's not? Well that's another story.

Sometimes it's a girl at a brothel and she takes a liking to you.

The girl will be sweet where most men aren't. She'll smile at you and gingerly slip her kimono off her shoulder.

The sex worker will talk with you, with the hope of something more. Her eyes shining and all the while you seem to be enjoying yourself.

That sets Mizu on edge. Leaves her feeling twisted inside.

Because you should be with someone else.

Someone not hellbent on revenge. An impure demon with a vengeful, angry soul.

The girl would be a better match maybe or someone like her.

Perhaps not a sex worker but someone who can take care of you better than the blue eyed Samurai. Give you a normal life in ways she cannot, at least not until her revenge is complete.

Mizu won't rescue you from the girl because you're smiling and content. Instead she will let you be, never mind the hollow ache in her chest when she sees you start to laugh.

You were just chatting with the sex worker, conversing on friendly terms, regardless of the girls intentions. But, how could your beloved Samurai know that from a distance?

Like an internal echo in your body, you'll feel Mizu's absence immediately and you'll go out into the snow capped village to find her.

She'll be alone beside a natural hot springs, sapphire eyes sad behind her orange lenses.

You'll curl up at her side as if she were your shelter, your blanket.

You'll know right away how she feels. Having learned how to read her slight expressions like the back of your hand.

Mizu is jealous but more than that. She's feeling like she's not good enough for you.

A ridiculous thought really. She couldn't be more wrong.

You'll reach out to take off her glasses and thread your fingers through her hair, undoing her up-do.

"I love you, Mizu. Only you. It will only ever be you who holds my heart."

Her gaze softens from your tender touch. She'll take your hands in hers and kiss every knuckle.

Her mouth, warm against your skin, travelling up your arm until her tongue reaches the moonlit column of your throat and she plants a wet kiss along your necks pulse.

Mizu doesn't deserve you, she thinks. Still, with you in her arms, open to her, your pupils blown wide with sudden lust... who is she to disagree with your choice?

Perhaps the gods gave you to her. A gift for her cursed existence.

"Say it again." She'll whisper against your flesh, hot to the touch despite the winter. Hot from her.

Her fingers deftly untying your kimono, her hands grabbing at your hips as she pulls into her lap.

Her calloused digits digging into your thighs to spread them for her, your chest pressed against hers...

Her fingers tracing your hipbones, making you shudder...

You gasp when they ghost over your navel and down... and further.

To in between your legs. The spot that craves her and is glistening like the hot springs rippling surface beneath the moon.

"I love you, Mizu." You'll moan.

She can't get enough of the sounds you make. Just for her.

"I belong to you." You'll whimper.

Ah, like music to her ears.

Despite Mizu's feeling of jealousy and her worry of being an undeserving partner, she believes you above all else.

You chose her, a miracle really, so she'll do anything to make you happy.

"You're only mine, huh?" She'll rasp, seeking reassurance, between kisses and gentle bites along your skin.

"Y-Yes. Only yours." You'll pant, her expert fingers bringing you to the edge.

Mizu smirks and holds you even closer. She could tease you longer, draw it out like usual but she wants to be good for you. Give you what you need.

In a moment of softness she brushes her lips against your collarbones...

"I love you. You are my life." She'll say to you before making you come.

[thewertsearch]

We should hurry this along. My visitor is beginning to set things on fire. […] TT: Who? Some guy. I was joking anyway. I am not in a hurry at all.

You said you should hurry, which is different from saying that you're in a hurry.

If the Alpha Timeline decrees that this conversation will be rushed, then it's still accurate to say it 'should' be hurried, even if Scratch isn't personally pushed for time.

TT: I thought you didn't lie. TT: Aren't jokes essentially humorous lies? Jokes are only temporary lies. If the falsehood is never exposed, there is no punchline. If the punchline is never delivered, the lie is sealed forever, regardless of initial humorous intent.

And this is just bullshit.

First of all, admitting that you lied doesn't retroactively negate the lie. That's not how any of this works. Scratch is just unilaterally deciding that falsehoods only 'count' when they're permanent, a rule he pulled completely out of his foamy ass.

Even if we accept his premise - which I don't - he could still wait arbitrarily long before revealing his falsehood, so that Rose doesn't realize she's been played until it's too late. This definition doesn't meaningfully restrict him from lying, and I think it's purely designed to confuse Rose.

[…] Lies are not funny. TT: I think if you're going to risk tarnishing your record of honesty, you should probably get better material. My joke was objectively funny. Who would know better than I?

And these? These are opinions, which don't have objective truth values. There are so many strings attached to Scratch’s ‘I don't lie’ shtick, I could knit him a better outfit.

Not that it matters, because Rose is in too deep. She's not going to back out now, no matter how suspicious this guy is.

TT: So you're saying an inaccurate statement doesn't count as a lie, as long as you say "just kidding" later? Basically. TT: What if it's much later? Is it still "just a joke?" No, that would be something closer to a prank.

I appreciate that Rose is trying, but her language is still too imprecise. Scratch is immortal, and it's impossible to know what ‘much later’ means to him. For god's sake, he's having this conversation in a single extended second! Give us some hard numbers, fucker!

TT: Are you allowed to lie about playing pranks? If I asked you if you were playing a prank on me, would you tell the truth? I am allowed to do whatever I want. I choose never to lie. I also choose to tell jokes now and then, and to play pranks quite sparingly.

See, the trap Rose is falling into is that she’s buying into the premise of the game. She's delving deep into the intricacies of Scratch's rules, and in the process, has completely forgotten to be skeptical of the guy who's explaining them.

Scratch tailors his manipulation style to whoever he's talking to - and if anyone's susceptible to a nerd-snipe, it's the Seer of Light.

But I can say that I have never played a prank on you, and no statement I have made to you thus far, or will make in this conversation, will contain any trace of falsehood for the sake of setting up a joke or a prank, with the exception of the joke I just made, and another one I will make very soon.

Like – let’s take this statement as an example. We could review the entire conversation with it in mind, and try to puzzle out where the setup for Scratch’s second ‘joke’ is, if it exists at all. Rose is probably doing exactly that – and in the process, has completely forgotten that he just said that he’s fully capable of lying.

He’s literally telling her to her face that he’s deceiving her, but she's too caught up in his games to pay attention. This is what it means to play with your cards face up, and it’s as impressive as it is terrifying.

TT: I'm starting to change my mind. Oh? TT: Yes. I think your joke was funny in retrospect. Actually, your whole shtick is pretty good. I'm warming up to it.

It’s great! He’s a good villain! He’s a puppet who’s got everyone else tied up in strings!

[dark-konohagakure2]

Can I have Pain overstepping the boundaries and using his influence to turn one of his cute and very devoted civilian followers (f) into his secret, personal stress reliever/pet? She really believes in his godly image and wants to worship him (because he's going to save everyone, after all!) so he uses it a bit behind closed doors?

tw: power imbalance, idol worship, God complex, piercings, cock worship, collars, mild petplay, praise, age difference

All characters depicted are 18+

Pain is viewed as a God in the Hidden Rain Village, and he has many devoted followers who worship him like the God he is, its something that satisfies Pain, yet her never indulges in it too much, except for when it comes to a very good, devoted little follower of his, who's adoration is much more noticeable than the others'.

She's such a good little follower, always addressing him politely and looking more than happy to prostrate herself before him, she even gives Pain little offerings, although they're just silly little trinkets that a God had no use for, but Pain enjoys having such a giving disciple regardless.

Pain will even give her a gift as well, a reward for being so loyal, he'll give her a nice, pretty collar just for her! Of course the naive thing doesn't think anything of it, her doe eyes lighting up when she receives such a thoughtful gift from none other than her beloved God himself, and she vows to wear the pretty and degrading gift everyday from then on.

The Akatsuki leader finds himself growing all the more attached to his adoring follower, in fact he likes her so much that he'll invite her to his very own living quarters for a very intimate worship session between just the two of them, he already knows she'd do anything for him, so he wants to put her faith to the test in the most pleasurable way possible.

"Now, let's see how deep your devotion goes, little pet... I want you to worship every single inch of my being, starting with right here..."

His Rinnegan eyes will remain fixed on her as she eagerly worships her body, her eager mouth exploring his cock, balls, and thighs, her tongue moving like an overeager yet inexperienced puppy as she tentatively licks the piercings on his shaft, doing her very best to pleasure her domineering God.

Pain won't talk much when she's 'worshipping' him, only speaking when it's to praise her and guide her along, or to reprimand her if she does something wrong while handling his most sensitive body parts, he'll also tell her that she should he honored, as other residents of the Hidden Rain could only dream to even lay a finger on Pain.

Pain will even deign to touch her with his own hands, gently stroking her hair and occasionally tugging on her leash, admiring the way she had kept the collar on everyday since he gave it to her. He won't be rough with her unless she's doing things wrong, but she won't mind either way, believing that everything her Lord does to her is completely deserved and just his divine judgement.

Pain will quietly gasp and groan as he finishes, cumming inside of her willing mouth. He's never came inside of anyone before her, so the fact that a godly figure such as himself would cum in such an innocent and simpleminded girl's mouth makes her feel very special, a notion that Pain will affirm.

"Good girl, little one. You've done a splendid job at providing your loyalty. If you continue being so dutiful, perhaps I'll plant my seed deep inside of you next time..."

Pain is a very busy man, leading both an entire village and a dangerous terrorist organization, but regardless of all the duties on his shoulders, Pain finds himself making more and more time to spend with his new pet.

[misshugs]

It'll be alright || Colby Brock

[inspired] "feels like i'm always apologizing for feeling."

[req by anon] At the end of the day, it seems that the ones you least expect are the ones that are always by your side at your worst.

warnings: shy/introvert!reader, mentions of self-abandonment, angst, self/degrading, cursing, anxiety, hurt/comfort?

a/n: i'll prolly do the banner soon enough, also not proofread at all so if there's something that sounds.. weird, my bad ;; i'll fix it eventually

word count: 4.6k [u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You knew it wasn't quite healthy for you disregard your own feelings like this, but you got so used to it.

You hid them so well at times, you feared you weren't even being honest with yourself.

Being a people pleaser wasn't something you wanted to do, but somehow managed to end up being. You never really wanted to make people upset, so you tried your best to help out as much as you could whenever you were able to.

Turning out like this also lead to friends that weren't really there for you, but you were always there for them.

You always were.

Even when they made fun of you, whenever they asked you for so many favours you knew you weren't going to get back, you were always there. You persisted in this so called "friendship" merely because they seemed to actually like hanging out with you.

At least it's what you thought at the time.

And honestly, who could blame you? Although it was most certainly a toxic friendship, they genuinely added you to most conversations. It wasn't as if you were only there to fill up the background most of the time.

Right?

"Hey babes, would you mind buying us some drinks?"

"Buying? Soph, I'm not even drinking tonight, I-"

"Really? You're going to do this to us? After we've invited your ass here? You're really trying to make us look bad?" She spat back, making you nervous.

It's all too familiar.

This has happened too many times for your comfort, and it always seemed to work in their favour; even when you tried to avoid it.

"N-no! I'm just saying that you could-" She put a hand infront of you.

"Shush. God, you're making my ears bleed." She whined before getting closer to your face. "Look, you go over there and ask for five shots of tequila, m'kay? Be a good one for me tonight, it also might improve your own reputation so, you know, stop talking and start moving honey. Tap tap." Her cunning smile and slight push on your shoulder made your heart race in an abnormal speed.

You really didn't want to. You really shouldn't, actually. But they were your friends, weren't they? You're doing this because they're friends.

Yeah, well. Keep telling yourself that lie.

Walking towards the bar and waiting for the drinks, there was this guy waiting right beside you. He looked at you with an amused smirk.

"Five? That's impressive."

"They're not for me." You responded with a half smile.

"Not even one?" He raised a brow, gaining a slight shake of your head as a response. "Sucks. Can I buy you one then?"

You look back at him, now with an amused expression yourself. Taking out his card and giving it to the barista before even letting you pull out your wallet, you looked at his deep, blue eyes.

"Bill's on me this time. Looks like you need a little break." He whispered, a small wink quickly after.

"Well, thank you, kind stranger." You said, taking all of the shots with you and looking back at him.

"Colby." He answered, trying to give you a handshake only to see your hands full and laugh. "Right."

You giggled. "I'm Y/n. Thank you again, Colby." And so, you walked away.

Sam, walking towards Colby after watching his obvious intend of flirting with you, putting his hand on his shoulder and said while looking at you walk away.

"You should've helped her dude."

"Ah, shit."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"God, I can't believe I still invite you to these, you're so ungrateful." She sobbed, "After all you've done to us I still invite you regardless, and this is how you repay us? Your friends?"

You paused, looking slightly down while the dramaqueen infront of you began fanning her eyes and looking up, trying to not ruin her perfect makeup with her fake tears. You tried to restrain your own feelings, closing your hand into a fist, feeling yourself getting frustrated by the second.

The word friends ached in your heart for the very first time, and you knew it wasn't a good sign. "Sorry." You whispered, basically apologizing for feeling. Again.

In the end, you were still too shy to try and confront yourself to her. You knew you would lose, even though you've already created a million different ways of repelling every single one of her insults.

She was too predictable, too easy to contradict. But she had something you didn't.

Confidence.

Maybe if it weren't for the dozens of people that could be staring straight through you, you might be able to have a chance. Even then, you knew better. You get nervous too easily to try and spat back shit to this princess. Slowly but surely, you were starting to lose hope in this so called friendship you had with her and her other dogs.

Or maybe it was already gone, you just didn't want to admit it to yourself.

You were tired.

The stress, the anxiety that was draining you was too much. It wasn't worth it, and you knew it.

What made you keep going? Was it because you were comfortable? Did you not want to try something new? Were you too accustomed to their presence that it made it hard to walk away? Yeah, most likely.

"I can't with you today. You're such a meanie." Soph argued, turning away. "Do whatever you fucking want. Get lost or whatever, I'm not taking you home." She walked away with her group. Their judgemental glares were enough to carve a hole in your heart.

It wasn't only them, but the people that got a glimpse of the situation began murmuring. The feeling of being watched, judged and laughed at by strangers. An unbearable, overwhelming feeling that stopped you in place. You were feeling yourself loose air, your hands shaky at the mere thought and paranoia you were collapsing yourself with.

On the mere edge of tears, you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. "Oh, my bad." They laughed. A familiar male voice released you from the thoughts. You looked at his face. Colby. "Didn't mean to scare you. Saw you all alone so I passed by to say hello. You doing okay?" He smiled.

Somehow, that smile is all you needed. Your eyes fluttered while you fixated your vision on his pretty face. You smiled back. "Yeah, yeah. Doing good." You tried to compose yourself once again.

Surprisingly, it was easy because of him. His jokes, flirty comments and pretty smile made you completely forget how you were on the edge of a panic attack barely a few hours ago.

"I'll be honest with ya. Last time? You made me so shy that I was going to ask for your number then completely forgot up until it was already too late." He laughed, so contagious that it made you giggle back. "Would you mind giving me a chance of texting you once in a while? Of course, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, sure, I don't mind." You gave him your number. A part of you hoping it wasn't yet another prank that would make you break into despair, but at the same time, you wanted to believe. You still had hope; not everyone is bad. Right?

After passing numbers, you notice the time in your phone. "Ah, shit. I should be leaving, it's too late." You stood up from your seat, fixing yourself up.

"Oh, well, are you driving?" He asked, standing up after you.

"Oh... um. I guess I'll have to call an uber, since my... friend will probably be staying." You mumbled slightly, remembering that bitter memory from not so long ago.

"Mind if I drive you home then?" A soft smile on his face; a sincere one. You looked at him, dazed for a moment. "...Is... Is that a yes?"

"Oh, uh... are you sure? I wouldn't want to bother you." You respond quickly.

"Bother me? Not at all. You've been my light of the party tonight." He laughs at his own statement. "Come on, let's get you home, sweetheart." He followed, putting his hand at your upper back, walking you towards the exit.

You didn't argue about it. In fact, you preferred to leave as quickly as possible, and he was giving you that chance. It was nice, it felt nice to have what you wanted for a change, even if it was as simple as leaving a party sooner than later.

After an annoyingly quick ride back home, you thanked him prefusely before walking back into your appartment.

Tonight took a toll on you emotionally; feeling dread and such a big pleasure at the same time. After a much needed shower and a midnight snack, you heard your phone.

A text? Who would even text you this late at night? You started questioning if it was Soph or one of the other girls, only to soothe the rising stress when you saw the text from a new contact.

Hey, it's Colby. Hoping you didn't give me a wrong number

It made you chuckle while responding right away.

I'm not the type to do that, don't worry

Oh, I'm glad, would've been heartbroken if you did

Did you go back to the party?

Nah, went straight home. The friend that was with me said he was going to stay longer but I went home

Why did you not go?

The life of the party left

Who?

You?

You rolled your eyes at the comment. This cheeky bastard.

You loved it.

Talking for a few more minutes, your eyelids began to close on their own. Your sleep schedule catching up to you.

It didn't take long until you fell asleep.

After some weeks, your supposed friends stopped texting you. One or two parties where you were left uninvited. It didn't bother you much, but at the same time, you were thinking of what you were missing; overthinking around the way it would've turned out great.

But also how wrong it could've been.

It was almost 11 pm, you've been watching the stories of your friends having fun without you. Nothing new, until a text from Colby made it change.

Haven't seen you at the party

Your heart ached. Someone expecting you was something... new. You were blaming yourself, even though it wasn't really your fault.

Kinda sick. Couldn't go.

Aw, that sucks. Hope you get well soon

It felt wrong to do this, but at the same time, nothing new to you. Trying to cover up the true feelings behind the kind smile you always put up.

Thank you.

A couple of minutes passed before another answer came through.

Party's getting boring, wish you were here

Trying to hype me up, Colby?

Is it working?

A little.

You smiled at his small attempts. He's been texting you enough to know there's been a distance between your group of friends. Some personal information between the both of you getting mixed up through conversations, getting to know eachother in a more personal level.

Him, having such an odd job being a 'ghosthunter' and (somehow worst, or maybe better?) he had proof of it. You, on the other hand, another slave to capitalism. Even worse, a slave to a more toxic relationship than your ex boyfriend. Your friends.

Usually, you wouldn't be the type to open up like this; but one thing turned into another and now here we are. A stranger that knows you better than every single person that's passed by your life, merely because he's asked the right questions at the right time. A master with words.

Sooo can we be honest then? Are you actually sick?

I'm impressed at how well you've come to know me.

Figured. You coming to the party then?

I wasn't invited.

How come? I'm inviting you right now

What?

I can take a plus one with me

I want you to be my plus one

…are you serious? I'm not even like, ready or anything.

Are you even sure? I'm not fun.

Take your time sweetheart. Tell me when I'm able to pass by

Also what do you mean you're not fun? Take that back right now

Your cheeks felt warm. You've come to learn to read emotions though text as the time passed by; knowing when you were really not wanted or knowing when somebody else was interested in things outside your circle.

This, however. These texts from this... guy. They felt genuine.

…

Thank you

It's really no biggie, I want you to come with me (if you want, of course)

So put on something sexy

For the party, of course

You chuckled at the comment. You weren't able to fully comprehend if he was being serious or just as flirtatious as always. But you didn't mind. Right now, you were about to go into a party. Why? God knows.

Maybe you do too, but you wouldn't like to admit it.

Not now, at least.

Standing up and walking toward your wardrobe, you skimmed through it. What should you wear? Something normal as always? Is it even worth it to try and switch it up for a change? You never really tried to make yourself look appealing, there was no reason to anyways.

But this time? Fuck it. It was different. You weren't going with them, you were going with him. You sighed, pushing yourself to wear the most decent looking dress you could find in your closet; fitted with some high heels the same color of the dress.

Finishing off your makeup, you saw your phone light up.

I'm here, take your time

Panicked, you replied.

Thought you were going to wait for me to finish??

I am?

Not in front of my house???

We can leave right away when you're done

Stop arguing, I don't mind waiting here

Come inside at least

Don't mind if I do then

Sighing, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't going to take longer than 5 minutes, but you felt bad leaving him outside. Walking towards your front door, you gulped down the nerves and opened up the door.

He was as fine as always, looking down at his phone before raising his head and looking at your face. His mouth opened slightly, unable to move for a moment.

You were stunning in his eyes. Looking at you up and down, he had to catch his own breath. How was he this lucky to be able to be next to this beauty?

"Is it... too weird? I'm not the type to commonly use these type of clothes..." You almost whispered, doubting your looks.

"You're kidding." He was able to respond. "I've never seen someone look this beautiful." You smiled and rolled your eyes. "I'm serious. Are you seriously not aware."

"Not aware of what?" You asked, a slight frown on your face due to the confusion.

"Of how gorgeous you look?" The frown quickly turned into a surprised look, your cheeks turning red at the revelation.

Hugging slightly your door to try and find comfort, you looked away from his graze. "Get in, I'm still not done." You said and be obliged. Closing the door behind him, you told him to get comfortable while you finished yourself up.

It didn't take you long, fortunately. A few fixes around the eyes and you were basically done. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you were satisfied with yourself this time. You didn't feel forced, heck, you felt beautiful. Perhaps it was Colby's comments that affected your mental state, but whatever it was, it felt good.

Walking back towards the man in your living room, you heard him whistle at you, which made you laugh.

"I'm gonna have so many death stares walking with you tonight."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Nervousness filled you up when you walked inside the party. Holding onto Colby's arm, he could feel your hand shaking. He gave you a reassuring look, one that said "Everything's going to be fine."

And you tried to believe it as much as you could.

Whatever you seemingly expected from the night somehow turned into the greatest parties you've ever experienced.

Perhaps it was because you were with Colby's friends instead of yours.

Maybe it was the fact that you were actually connected into their conversation instead of being pushed out. Being listened to instead of ignored and getting talked over.

Was this what it felt to be having fun? You almost forgot this was what it's supposed to be like. It felt nice.

"I'll be right back. Gotta to to the bathroom." You said standing up from your seat.

"I'll go and get some drinks in the meantime. Anyone wants a refill?" Colby asked, nodding at the requests he was receiving. You smiled at him before walking away.

You were quick in finding the bathroom, finishing what you had to do soon enough and getting out of the room.

Before you started walking towards the group, you got pushed away and in the center of a bunch of girls, smirking at you. Judging you. Your heart sank as fast as you recognized just one of them.

"Who do we have here?" Soph teased, a sly smirk on her face. "Isn't it too late for you? Thought you would've been at home. It's past your bedtime, isn't it?" Laughs were heard from the group surrounding you.

No, no, no. This wasn't a good time for this. You were having fun, you were doing so good! You've never felt better at a party and now all of it was destroyed.

"It's none of your business, Soph." You could hear a gasp after your response. A dramatic, opened mouthed expression on her face.

"Oh, so, now that you've found a new stupid little group of freaks now you think you can talk back at me?" She spat out.

You looked slightly to the side. "You just called yourself a freak." You thought, unable to actually argue back. You felt a hand on your chin, making you look at her directly to her eyes.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." She demanded. You gulped, trying to compose yourself as hard as you could just to not shiver under her. You had to be strong, to proof to her you were better.

But it was hard.

"Think your stupid little face will be fixed with a bit of makeup? Ha." She scoffed, looking at your whole outfit this time. "Someone as ugly as you won't be fixed by a little change of outfit. Not even if that friend of yours tells you otherwise. Or maybe not a friend? Who knows? It's not like he's interested in you anyways." She grinned, roughly moving your face towards a specific corner of the group.

And there you saw it, it was Colby. With another girl. Your heart sank, for some reason. Your breath escaped your lips as it got shaky, eyes quickly watering when you saw her get a bit too close to his face while he, with some drinks on his hands, was unable to do anything.

Why were you feeling like this anyways? It's not like you guys were something, were you? Why did it hurt this much? Your expression softened at the illusion you had made so quickly. So dumb, of course he wasn't interested.

"What's wrong? Did you silly little confidence already shatter? That was so easy." She almost sounded dissapointed. A push on your back was enough for you to fall onto the ground. It's not like you weren't about to anyways, your legs were already shaking at the mere thought that everything that has been going on was a mere lie.

A setup.

You heard laugher, whilst barely holding yourself up by the palms of your hands. "How pathetic. You shouldn't have even come. Now you're just being a bother to another group, another dead weight."

And they were right, you believed they were right. You believed them so easily that it was almost funny.

You could hardly breathe, the tears dwelling onto your eyes as a thick blurriness covered your vision. You couldn't hold it anymore, the stress... it all came to the surface quick enough. The music dissipating into the distance as you heard yourself breathing heavily; the only sound you could focus on.

The sound of you losing your mind. Your heart pounding hard. Too hard, perhaps. It ached. You could feel the frown on your face while the tears kept on flowing.

Come on, you were better than this. Why are you acting this way? You can easily act neutral like always, smiling, ignoring all of these feelings.

But breathing was hard, the murmurs of other people being only that; whispers you could barely understand. You felt like you had no control of yourself, like you were trapped in this center of humiliation of people you once called friends.

But they never intended to be your friends from the start; they were only using you.

This wasn't the first time either. Over and over again you were considered the center of humiliation of these people, the only difference is that this time was the last straw that broke off the mask you tried to so desperately to keep on.

A pair of hands began shaking you, trying to make you stand up from the floor. You couldn't pay attention to who it was, as you were busy enough dealing with the sudden lost of oxygen.

Maybe even a lost of self.

Barely able to walk due to your legs feeling numb from the unbearable feeling in your chest, whoever it was helped you out and moved your arm around their neck. You're not exactly sure what happened, but before you could even get yourself together, you noticed you were outside.

Still breathing heavily, finally, you looked at the figure that helped you out.

Colby.

It only made your panic attack worse. You started crying harder when you saw his face. The pain of being a fool was covered in your face.

"Hey, come on, breathe." He tried to give you your space. Far enough to let you calm down, close enough to hold you up. But he ended up hugging you closer when he noticed how broken you seemed.

You didn't hesitate and held him tighter. "I'm sorry, I.. I... I sh-shouldn't..." You sniffed, trying to find the right words to say. You felt the urge to try and explain yourself to him. Your vision was blurry and finding yourself choking with your own words.

"Let it all out, don't worry. I'm here for you, okay?" He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his hands caressing your back as he spoke. "Breathe. Calm down your breathing first, sweetheart. It'll be alright."

Shaking in his arms, you found yourself comforted by his scent. Breathing in his cologne felt almost hypnotizing. His way of calming you down absolutely worked. For the most part. Sniffing, you tried to explain yourself, trying to argue to yourself that these feelings shouldn't have appeared, it was all a mere accident.

But your cries were more than enough to make him understand at least half of the situation. He was sure it was your friends, but for some reason you were pleading for forgiveness to him. "Hey... you don't owe me an explination, yeah?" He wiped a few lost tears through the run down mascara and cupped your head in his hands, smiling back at you. "Want me to take you home?"

You were barely able to respond with a little nod. It was all he needed.

It was a decently quiet ride. Colby took it upon himself to try and make you feel alright, holding onto your shaky hand and softly caressing it.

When he parked infront of your home, as he was about to walk out of the car, you stopped him. Looking back at you, he understood and sat back down. You didn't want to go inside, or maybe you didn't want to stand up overall, which he didn't mind if it meant for you to feel alright.

With your shivering lips and puffy eyes, you sniffed whilst wiping some dry tears from your cheeks. The stress has calmed down and you're able to breathe normally once again.

He was patient with you. He didn't try and make you speak up or got tired, he waited. Waited until you said something or wanted to move.

"Sorry." You finally spoke. He kept his eyes on your eyes, waiting for you to elaborate. "I was... a mess, it shouldn't have happened." You wiped some tears before looking at him. He seemed... confused.

"What do you mean it shouldn't have happened?" He asked.

"You're just... trying to have fun while I'm here just... ruining your night. I told you I wasn't fun. You could've found someone else to go with, I-"

"Who said I wanted someone else?" He interrupted.

It made you quiet down for a few seconds before talking back. "Well, I mean..." You sniffed. "You were... with... there was someone else, I just thought... you just... wanted someone... to... um... I don't know... hang around with, not something to carry." It was hard for you to explain yourself.

What were you even trying to explain? Were you just upset because you 'ruined his night' or because of something else? You were confused. "Who? The annoying girl? She randomly came to me, I couldn't even move her away because I had the drinks on my hands."

Annoying was a word that stood out to you. It seemed your overthinking got the best of you. Perhaps whatever you believed wasn't true? Looking at his face dumbfounded, he smirked. "What? Were you jealous?"

That was another word that stood out. Your cheeks fluttered and you murmured to yourself whilst looking away. "As if..." You could hear his contagious laugh after your words, making you smile slightly.

There was a comfortable silence before he spoke again.

"I saw it. Last time. Your 'friends'... The way she didn't even hesitate on making herself the victim when she saw fit. I had to control myself that night, that plastic face of hers was about to change shape if I didn't." He laughed to himself.

You were quiet, so he continued. "Honestly, it made me so mad that even though I was going to try and talk to you anyways, I had to make sure you didn't go back to them. I didn't want you to. You don't deserve friends like that, no one does." His brows furrowed at the thought.

"...It's not like I wanted to, either. I guess I just... got used to it." You whispered, looking at his hands covering yours. He held them tighter and got slightly closer to kiss your forehead, giving you a soft smile afterwards.

"I don't know if you'll ever try to trust again after all of that, but... would you give me a chance to be your friend? For now, who knows if I might level up later on." It made you smile. It always made you smile.

And you wanted to trust. To trust him, even though it might break your heart in the long run. Right now, you just wanted to feel safe, and he was the safest bet. "I guess I can give you a chance. And... let's see if you're able to upgrade sooner than later." He could only smile brighter, kissing your knuckles before changing his tone of voice to a more energetic one.

"So, wanna get drunk in your house? I have a Jack Daniel's in the trunk."

"Wha..."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this was lying on my drafts for too long unnecesarily- hope you liked it!

also i put specifically that one song but there are so many that can be part of this trope, it's just too much for me to add lol

~nikkõ

[angstywaifu]

Options - Bodhi Durran x Reader

Prompt - They're looking. Kiss me. Now!

Warning: Spoilers for end of Fourth Wing.

Masterlist

Graduation Day. A celebration for all. For those graduating the college and accepting their postings. And for those of us moving up to the next year. It was an exciting time. And I was glad for the distraction after Athebyne. Athebyne where it had nearly all ended. Nearly gone wrong. Something Colonel Aetos had hoped for. Had almost bet on in fact. All day I had caught people staring at those of us who we’re meant to be dead. Wondering and whispering about what had happened.

Movement in front of me catches my eyes as two cadets from another wing sit in front of me. I vaguely knew them. They we’re in my year but that was about it. Due to me being one of the marked ones they usually kept their distance from me. Something about the way they looked at me had me on edge. One of them had a second drink in their hand they pushed towards me.

”Can I help you?” I ask them sarcastically. Hoping they get the hint I didn’t want to talk to them.

”Just thought you could use some company. Sitting here all by yourself. No one wants that on graduation night.” The one on the left says.

”Maybe some of us do want to be alone.” I snap back as they push the drink towards me again despite me already holding on in my hands.

”Graduation Day is a time to celebrate, let loose. Something we can help with.” The one on the right adds.

The way they both smile at me sends a chill up my mind. I had now regretted my choice to sit on my own. I could have easily joined some of the others, but most of my friend group were occupied or we’re saying goodbye to those who were leaving. Which is where Imogen and Bodhi had disappeared to. Gone to say goodbye to Garrick and Xaden who I had seen before coming down here.

”Well this Graduation Day I don’t particularly feel like celebrating. So if that’s your only goal, please go elsewhere.” I say before turning my attention to elsewhere in the room, my eyes catching Bodhi, Garrick and Xaden making their way into the room.

”Most of you made it back alive. Can’t have been that bad.” One of them adds.

I see red as I turn to face them. But I couldn’t snap at them the way I wanted to. I couldn’t reveal what we had actually dealt with. Actually faced. I had to reign it in.

”Regardless I do not feel like celebrating, especially not with you two.” I emphasise the last word with as much anger as I can. Please get the hint and leave me alone.

They smirk at me. “I don’t see any other options for you. All the other marked ones seem to already have their options for tonight.”

God these two made my skin crawl. Made me want to jump over the table and teach them the lesson I know I could easily do. I’d seen them fight. They weren’t bad, but I was better. I had Xaden and Garrick to thank for that.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have options. So if you could move along.”

A lie. A blatant lie. I had no options. No one I could escape to and try use to get these two away from me. And these two creeps knew.

”Go on then, go get one of those options and we will leave you peacefully be.” One of them challenged.

I gulp as I scan the room. Hoping for anyone. Anything. Hell I would go over to Imogen and ask her to play along. We were both straight, but we would play the part if needed for the other to help get out of a situation quite like this. I had hoped she had snuck back in with Garrick, Xaden and Bodhi but she hadn’t. Bodhi. Bodhi could help. But it was different with him. We had a friendship, that quite honestly could go that way if we wanted. Hell we toed the line a little too much. But that’s all we were. Friends. Nothing more. But he would help. And it’s not like I had to kiss him or anything. Right? All I had to do was walk up, quickly explain the situation and hope those two would find someone else to go pester. Though part of me hoped they wouldn’t. I could do this. It was easy. That’s what I tried to tell myself as I stood up and walked over to Bodhi who was leaning against the wall with Garrick. Xaden now gone. Probably saying goodbye to Violet. Bodhi looks over at me as I rush over to him and Garrick. I know he can tell something is up by the way his brow furrows.

”You ok?” He asks as I stop in front of him.

”I need your help. I need you to pretend that you’re into me.” I tell him sternly.

Garrick does his best to hide his laugh with a cough. He mutters something that sounds oddly like “that won’t be hard” as Bodhi elbows him in the side.

”T-that’s an interesting thing t-to need help with.” Bodhi stutters back.

I sigh and nod my head towards the two boys who are staring at us very intently, obviously intrigued to see who out of Bodhi and Garrick was my option. Garrick was a gamble as he was dressed to leave. But he was known to sleep around when he was so inclined. He would have been the more believable target for this. Garrick would have easily played along, but would also give me shit about it later. But I had gone to Bodhi.

”Those two are pestering me and keep pushing that I need to celebrate tonight with them. And I do not. It’s the last thing I want. But they won’t go unless I can prove to them I have another option. Which I don’t, but I need someone to at least pretend.” I blurt out as I look behind me. My blood runs cold, they’ve now stood up and are looking at Bodhi and I, and are about to walk over. Shit., I barely think before the words leave my mouth. “They’re looking. Kiss me.”

”Ah….”

”NOW!”

Bodhi just looks at me shocked. Frozen in place. Shit. I step forward and cup his face between my hands as I pull him down into a kiss. I feel Bodhi go rigged as our lips touch. As my lips meet his, its like it ignites a fire in me. A fire I had never felt before. I wrap my hands around his neck in an effort to deepen the kiss as I step closer. As I lightly trace his lip with my tongue, something in Bodhi snaps. His hands that were frozen at his side come to grip my hips and pull me flush against him. His body relaxing as he eases into the kiss. A small groan rumbling through him as our tongues meet. A cough next to us has us breaking apart to a very amused Garrick smirking at us as he motions with his head. I turn my gaze to see they’ve stormed off to another table and a group of girls from another squad. I go to step back but Bodhi’s grip on my hips tighten as he holds me against him. I look back at him to see him staring at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

”Have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Garrick teases before pushing off the wall, leaving us alone as he heads outside.

Bodhi continues to stare at me, as if he’s shocked and cant believe what has just happened. As if it was a dream. A dream he had been waiting to come true. Like he had been waiting for me to toe that line just a little more. To take that first step he was too scared to. But slowly a smile breaks out over his face.

”Would you object to not pretending to celebrate with me tonight?” He finally asks, in a way that almost reminds me of the confidence that Garrick and Xaden have.

”Not at all.” I tell him before giving him a quick kiss, grabbing his hand and leading him up to the third year rooms.

[onyourowndaisymae]

obey me characters hands hcs (demon brothers, dateables, + side characters)

college has whooped my ass but your girl has officially graduated with two degrees!! finally!! hopefully i will be able to get out more writing soon. i think i am also going to tweak my request rules in the coming days to make writing easier on myself and my schedule, so expect that soon. anyways enjoy these random headcanons that came to mind one night out of nowhere

content warnings: none

Lucifer

lucifer is usually wearing gloves, so you rarely get to see or feel his hands. so when you do, it's a treat.

his hands are cold, but not unbearably so. they perpetually feel like he's been out in the cold just a few minutes too long. when he touches your bare skin, it makes you jump-- but keep them close for a few minutes and you'll chase the cold away completely.

his hands are soft. probably not super surprising considering he's always wearing gloves, but it's still pleasant.

he's got big ass, strong hands. they may be soft, but that doesn't mean they're weak. lucifer is the type of person that could open a jar for you with such ease that he'd almost look disappointed in your weak little human arms. if he's in a good mood, he might tease you about it.

he's pretty pale, so you can see the color of his veins under his skin. he's also got just a few prominent veins-- nothing excessive, but just enough to hit that sweet spot between too much and not enough.

his nails are always pristine. he's the avatar of pride. do you think he'd willingly walk around with chipped nail polish? if something somehow happens, they will be redone by the next day, almost like they'd never chipped in the first place. either he'll call asmo over to fix them, or fix them himself, depending on how much time he has.

Mammon

mammon has pleasantly warm hands. sometimes they get a little sweaty, but it's not much of a problem honestly. he's like a nice little heating pack on a winter day. because his hands are warm, though, yours usually feel cold to him... and he will complain. it's mammon.

his hands are also pretty soft. gotta look nice, y'know? i can see him keeping lotion (and chapstick-- not relevant here but it's worth a mention regardless) on his person pretty often. this came about bc he got tired of the lotion he borrowed from asmo smelling all perfume-y getting him odd looks.

this man is always wearing at least one ring and you cannot convince me otherwise. i can see him wearing a lot of matching gold ring sets. they just look like they belong on him, y'know?

i think he's got a few subtle veins across his hands. he knows that people like that, so i think he's pretty proud of his hands. he even takes care to avoid chipping or otherwise messing up his nails so the whole look will stay cohesive.

Leviathan

oh you know this man's hands are clammy as fuck. sorry bud. facts are facts.

he's blessed with very pretty hands. his nails just grow in a pretty shape (and asmo makes sure to keep them that way), his fingers are slender and proportional, his hands are a normal size, and his skin stays pretty moisturized, even in harsh weather. he doesn't have to try. which is good, because we all know he wouldn't.

i think levi actually hates the feeling of rings and hand jewelry. he'd fidget with it too much and eventually become so aware of it that he'd need to take it off before he goes crazy. if he gets married and wears a traditional wedding ring, it would have to fit perfectly and be very comfortable for him to eventually get used to it.

levi picks at the pads of his fingers a lot when he's anxious, but he's not super prone to scaring there, so it isn't super noticeable. he'll go through bursts of trying to break this habit where he covers his poor hands in vaseline, but nothing even quite breaks him of it.

Satan

satan has hands crafted by god specifically to play piano and look nice holding books. look at him. there's no way he'd have ugly hands. they're soft and pretty, but i think he has to put more effort than expected into maintaining them.

he's another one that i think would be anti-ring for much of the same reason as levi. i think it would just feel odd on his fingers and he'd get irritated by their presence. he's okay wearing bracelets though.

his hands, slender and pretty as they remain, are also quite strong. he's the avatar of wrath, after all. he's probably the second or third best to go to when you need a tough jar opened.

his nails and cuticles always look presentable, but i think he finds grooming them unpleasant. he lets asmo do it for him-- the younger one's chattering distracts him from the irritating feeling of pushed back cuticles and trimmed hangnails. his hands aren't naturally soft, either, but asmo has developed a routine for him so they stay nice with a bit of regular (secret) effort. satan's all about seeming effortlessly perfect, after all, and his hands are no exception.

Asmo

softest hands in the entire cast. simeon and mephistopheles are good competitors, but this is not a battle he will lose.

his nails are always perfectly manicured and soft. he's got a million different lotions scatter across his room, the HoL, RAD, etc., all to make sure he never encounters even a hint of dry skin. he's got emergency nail polish, too, just incase a nail were to chip while he's out and about.

asmo reaches a lot for daintier, tasteful jewelry. think small rings, delicate bracelets, pretty gemstones, the works. he's very particular about matching the jewelry both to his outfit AND his nails.

he doesn't have any visible veins, so his hands seem inhumanly perfect at times. he likes this. compliment his hands and he'll swoon-- not that he cares more about them than the rest of his body, but because it shows you notice the smaller details he puts effort into, and he appreciates it.

Beel

big boy's got big ass hands. even if you're grown yourself, putting your palms against his will make you feel like a kid again. he could palm a basketball like shaq.

he's got his fair share of callouses. i think he mostly leaves them alone because they serve the purpose of improving his grip, which is nice for the gym or fangol. asmo probably gets on him for it, but beel doesn't care enough to do something about it. i can also see him having quite a few prominent veins on both hands.

his hands fluctuate in temperature a LOT. it's pretty unpredictable, too. you can touch his hand and find it scorching hot, then touch it again ten minutes later to find it eerily lukewarm. nobody knows why this happens.

beel has to be very conscious of his hygiene, or his hands will get really dirty in a matter of minutes. he's constantly eating and touching things, so he needs to either be careful or have a napkin on hand. i think lucifer carries hand sanitizer for this exact reason (although he won't admit it).

Belphegor

belphegor's hands are upsettingly lukewarm. it's like touching things or inclimate weather has no effect on him. they're always lazily warm, like a glass of water sitting out in the sun.

his hands stay soft mainly because he doesn't do much with them. he is, however, prone to hangnails. he's lazily bite them off and accidentally cause more in the process-- not that he particularly cares.

he leaves nail and hand maintenance in asmo's hands. he'll let the fifth born do anything to them so long as he gets to sleep through it.

not anti-jewelry/rings per se, but doesn't care enough about it to a) put any on, or b) make sure he doesn't lose whatever he's wearing that day. if it somehow falls off, the most you're getting from him is a quick look around, unless the piece was really meaningful and/or borrowed.

Diavolo

is anyone surprised to hear that diavolo has massive, strong hands? no? didn't think so.

he's got really thick fingers, too. you feel like a toddler comparing hand sizes with him. he's just a mountain of a man.

his hands are always hot but never sweaty. it's comforting most of the times, but if you're already hot his touch is like fire. dawg. don't touch me. i'm sweating. his entire body is like this, too.

his nails are always very particularly manicured (it's an image thing) and fairly soft. he cares enough to use lotion but not enough to carry it. he's not one to be super vain in that regard.

there's a tasteful amount of veinage on this prince's hands. enough to be attractive, but not enough to make him seen overworked or to age him.

Barbatos

definitively the coldest fucking hands in the entire cast. barbatos' hands are cold enough to wake the dead with just a touch.

his hands are always covered by gloves as well, so they're not as rough as you'd expect. still, though, the butler is always keeping his hands busy, so i imagine there are still some minor calluses across his hands. nothing enough to be super noticable, but still there.

he's got long, slender fingers. very regal. his hands themselves are average sized. compared to someone like diavolo, though, they're dainty.

his hands are also very pale, but for some reason you can't spot a single vein. it's odd. you can see the tendons and bones shift when he moves so you know his hands are built like normal... but something about the veins just seems so odd. mammon tricked luke into thinking barbatos doesn't have any blood, so that's why no one can see his veins. this is wrong, but luke is too polite to ask about it. (the real explanation is that, although he's pale, he's got pretty thick skin-- demon perks-- so you don't really see much below it).

Simeon

simeon's hands are pleasantly warm at all times. you can feel the heat through his gloves. it's just a very comforting thing-- he'll hold your hand anytime you ask, so don't be afraid to ask if you're a little chilly or in need of some reassurance.

when he takes the gloves off, his hands are silky smooth. did you expect anything different? i can see him being very methodical abut hygiene in general, and in this case i think he's always using a nice lotion on his hands before he puts his gloves on for the day. when they come off, his hands are soft and sweet-smelling-- like cocoa butter and vanilla.

he doesn't paint his nails or anything, but they always look very nice. his liberal use of lotion pairs well with his other grooming habits. his cuticles are never overgrown, his nails are always short and uniform, and his nail beds are healthy and clear. it's minor, but it just adds to the overwhelming perfection that simeon exudes.

Solomon

solomon's hands are somehow both clammy AND cold. pick a struggle, peepaw.

on the plus side, his hands are soft. even in the winter, solomon never has to worry about rough knuckles or dry skin. which is good, because you cannot convince me that this man would remember to regularly apply lotion. he's a menace.

his hands are pale, like the rest of them, but also more veiny than i think most would anticipate. he's got one prominent one heading to his ring finger, and the rest are a bit smaller but still noticeable. his pale skin allows you to see the blue of his veins underneath. they're interesting to just stare at at watch move when he flexes his fingers.

i can see him wearing a ring or two on occasion. i don't think he'd care a whole lot about the aesthetics, but i think he'd put in enough effort to wear gold when his outfit has gold and switch to silver when wearing outfits with silver in them. it's a small thing, but it lets your know he's putting in at least a little thought.

Luke

luke has got such little, cute hands. his fingers are small and a little stubby, just like his nails. his nails also grow slowly, too, so he doesn't have to do much to keep them presentable.

unfortunately, they're often a little sticky. he bakes a lot, and while he's not usually dirty or messy, he's still young and somehow just attracts stickiness like any other child. it's especially bad when he uses honey in his recipes-- his hands are perpetually sticky for like two or three days after, no matter how often he washes his hands.

luke is a nervous little child, and for that i could see him being someone that picks at his cuticles. simeon gently discourages this habit, but at the end of the day he can't do much but make sure they heal properly.

BONUS:

Thirteen

she gives barbatos a run for his money in the cold hand competition. her fingers are ice. unlike barbatos, she will use this to her advantage. you'll find her frigid fingers on the back of your neck or under the hem of your shirt when you least expect it. she doesn't have any reason to do this. she just thinks it's funny.

her hands are a little dry, mainly around the knuckles. she strikes me as someone that constantly rubs her dry hands together and bitches about needing lotion, while simultaneously never remembering her own. she probably bums a dab of lotion off of someone ever day (i'm thinking asmo).

her nails are always really nice. they're just naturally shaped really well, round at the top and pretty straight. they're strong and don't break easy, which is good, because a hangnail can throw off her concentration for an entire afternoon.

Raphael

like belphegor, raphael's hands are an upsetting temperature-- no matter how warm or cold your hands are, his feel lukewarm against yours. it should literally be impossible, but then again, a lot of things you've encountered in the devildom should be impossible.

he's got some calluses. they're pretty interesting, honestly-- if he was a human, he'd have the bumpy, dry hands of a weathered veteran or lonely woodworker, all rough skin and long years embedded into his flesh. but he's an angel. the calluses on his hands are small and fairly easy to miss if you don't touch him. but run your hand along the ridges of his fingers or the fatty parts of his palms and you'll find them just fine.

raphael has really pretty nail beds. something about the way they look is just so clean and nice. he never has overgrown cuticles or anything, either. just really nice hands for a man that does not spare a single thought to the way they look.

Mephistopheles

this man has hands like butter. they're just so soft and luxurious. you think they'd be a bit more rugged seeing as he's a rich boy with a penchant for horseback riding, but no. i can see him being very anal about his hands. they're always soft with not a callous or imperfection in sight.

speaking of perfect, this motherfucker has amazing nails. they're just a tad longer than you'd expect to be traditionally "masculine", but that just enhances how slender and pretty his fingers look. no wonder he's always pointing and gesturing so dramatically-- he's gotta show off all that hard work!

pretty boy here just has really nice, strong hands. not really veiny, but very smooth and even. his palms are a bit lighter than his skintone, naturally, but across the board there's no discoloration or scarring to be seen. you can tell he's a noble just by looking at his hands.

he's usually in those gloves but, if not, i could see him being a rings kinda guy. only tasteful ones, though, and in moderation. not like mammon.

[evilbihan]

I'm not going to acknowledge that person by name because I have no wish to interact further with her, nor to have others find her and give her any attention. But with Noob Saibot being brought back, I remembered this rancid take they had, quote: "Bi-Han is a man who has time and time again become Noob Saibot, a man whose endings have shown the Netherrealm is where he wanted to be" which is wild af to say.

Because Bi-Han doesn't just 'become" Noob, he is literally made into Noob. Quan Chi resurrected him as a wraith that turned him into Noob Saibot and now Titan Havik tortures him and uses some insane magic even Liu Kang doesn't know, to turn him into Noob. It's not like some magical girl transformation. We're talking awful evil stuff being done to Bi-Han against his will, to warp him into this being known as Noob Saobot, who is stripped of his humanity and almost everything that made Bi-Han who he was.

And Bi-Han never wanted to end up in the Neatherrealm. In the previous timelines he literally had no choice. He was forced into the role of assassin. He was molded into one practically from birth. In Mythologies when he goes into the Neatherrealm he's informed that his soul is already tainted with evil, which is why he can exist there. That's not because he simply woke up one day and decided to kill some Gods for shits and gigs. He had to do what he was ordered to do or be a traitor to the clan and marked for death anyway. It was a lose lose situation. If anything this shows that Bi-Han was never where he wanted to be. His strings were always being pulled by someone else. History is repeating itself now. And leaks even say that Liu Kang doesn't fault him for his desires, but only the ways he goes about achieving his ends. Which further proves Bi-Han doesn't have some nefarious plots in mind with the deliberate intention of landing himself in the Neatherrealm.

She said she doesn't hate Bi-Han, but then this reads as a deep missunderstanding of his character. And at that point, if you can misinterpret his character to that degree, you probably don't like him much either.

Another day, another take so stupid it makes me want to never interact with anything MK related ever again.

Oh, who am I kidding? The trailer already achieved that.

Needless to say, you're 100% correct and this person, whoever they are, is obviously not the sharpest tool in the shed. People who think Bi-Han wanted any of this are either being ignorant on purpose and want to misunderstand his character because they hate him or they're so blatantly stupid they don't understand the very simple fact that Bi-Han being turned into Noob Saibot always happened against his will in every damn timeline.

Does it look like Bi-Han tied himself to that damn wheel we see in the trailer? Does this person have the attention span of a goldfish and just missed the part where he looks terrified out of his mind when those drills/needles approach him?

For goodness' sake, I didn't want to talk about the trailer because watching it made me want to gauge my own eyeballs out. I never felt this sick looking at something in my life (that's coming from someone who plays horror and fighting games on the regular) and yet here we are and I'm talking about it regardless now. I hate it here.

But anyway, you're right. What more can I say? Anyone with even an ounce of common sense would know that. Anyone who has ever played any of the Mortal Kombat games should know that Bi-Han was forcefully turned into Noob Saibot. He was never evil. He was always a neutral character and he's still a neutral character in the New Era.

What more confirmation do you need outside of Liu Kang himself admitting that there's nothing wrong with Bi-Han's ambitions, only with his methods of achieving them? Ashrah says Bi-Han can be redeemed, Bi-Han said only people who don't understand him would mistake him for evil, the Lin Kuei all stand behind Bi-Han and support him... He isn't evil and he never was.

He literally saves Liu Kang's entire stupid trainwreck of a timeline single-handedly in this DLC and people still have the audacity to say he's evil?

I wish he was.

I wish Bi-Han would just sit back and watch Havik destroy Liu Kang's timeline along with all the pitiful hypocrites in it. I wish he'd let all of the fandom's pathetic favorites get torn to shreds and laugh.

But he won't. Because Bi-Han is a good and honorable man deep down.

Disagree and be wrong. It's as simple as that.

PS: Wasn't MK:Mythologies Sub-Zero all about Bi-Han trying to avoid ending up in the Netherrealm? He reacted with shock and concern to being told his soul is tainted with evil by Raiden and he was trying to turn his life around. There's even an ending in one of the older games where he kills Shang Tsung and leaves the Lin Kuei with the prize money from the tournament. Bi-Han never wanted to end up in the Netherrealm. Claiming anything else would be ignoring canon lore.

[mncxbe]

Can i request something along the lines of "God look at you, how pathetic. I don't care that it hurts, your one job is to be my playtoy and yet you're not even good at that. I know you're just a dumb mutt but I can tell that you want to please me. Now be the good little whore I know you are and make yourself cum for me." Something like this if thats fine it can be any character you’d like from BSD if you cant do this its completely fine!!

sorry it took so long but yes sure I did my best to write it but it sweetened it a bit. I honestly felt that Fyodor would be best for this so I hope you like it♡ Also not me always having to explain why they're fucking // gentle reminder that I'm still taking requests so send them in

11 p.m

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡/fluff

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: degradation/ overstim.

Fyodor didn't usually get jealous; and even on those rare occasions he managed to maintain his cool demeanor. He knew you possessed the type of beauty that everyone was drawn to, regardless of their gender. That's what made him feel drawn to you in the first place. He didn't fall for your charms tho, but for your keen intelligence, wits and sense of loyalty.

Every time a man would flirt with you he would watch you turn him down with a smile on your face, waving him off like he was a mere insect. In other words, your boyfriend trusted you and never doubted your devotion.

That was until he spotted you whispering in a corner with Dazai. You were at a party held by one of the town's officials; a man who wanted to join Fyodor's cause. While they were discussing business in a separate room you were left alone with the other guests. You were quite surprised to see your boyfriend's biggest enemy there, quietly sipping champagne from his tall glass.

You walked up to him and struck up a casual conversation.

"Tell me, miss. What's Fyodor's girl doing here all by herself?" he eventually questioned with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I see you know who I am. Well, I just wanted to go out tonight, nothing more"

"So your boyfriend isn't plotting anything with the officials?"

Your lips curled into a grin as you finally understood what formidable a opponent Dazai was, why Fyodor was so worked up about him.

"Not at all" you replied meekly as Dazai leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind dancing with me. Since you're all alone"

At that moment you felt Fyodor's arm snake around your waist.

"Hello, dearest. Sorry I made you wait"

He spared Dazai a quick, spiteful glance before pulling you away, guiding you towards the grand doors. The brunette only chuckled, mumbling something you couldn't hear.

When you got out of the building the car was already waiting for you and you quickly got inside; the wheels squealing on the pavement as you drove off.

"How was it? Did you strike a deal?" you asked your partner, but he didn't reply. You then tried to touch his hand and once again he brushed you off.

The ride home was awfully silent; but as soon as the door of your bedroom was closed, your boyfriend spoke in a low voice.

"I see you enjoyed yourself tonight. How did you find Dazai, quite charmind isn't he?" His voice was laced with anger and you noticed it.

"Not at all" you replied carefully "I mean, he's intelligent but I wouldn't say charming"

"Interesting. You seemed to enjoy talking to him; had those big doe eyes, always fawning over him"

"That's not it, Fyodor I~"

You were cut short by his hand, which wrapped around your neck in a swift motion. His lips crashed against yours as he pushed you until the back of your thighs hit the bed frame. You toppled backwards and fell onto the soft mattress with Fyodor on top of you.

His teeth grazed the soft skin of your neck. "I'm quite disappointed in you, doll. Didn't expect you to behave like that." His voice sent shivers down your spine, your back slightly arching under his touch "Seems like I need to teach you a lesson"

Fyodor suddenly spun you over so that your chest was facing down and lifted your hips while unbucking his belt. His calloused hands slid to your hips as he pulled up your dress, exposing your drenched lingerie.

He let out a chuckle before pushing himself into you. You whined, your legs wobble from the burning sensation.

"Fedya please wait I'm~"

"Yes you're quite wet I can see that" he said as he began moving, earning another moan from you. He set a fast pace, making your whole body shake with pleasure; you loved it when he was rough on you.

Surprisingly enough he let you cum when you felt like it. You fell onto the mattress and laid on your back, heaving.

Your partner's eyes wandered along your figure.

"Take off that dress. I'm not done with you yet" he ordered in a harsh tone.

And you obeyed, undressing yourself and before you knew it you were back underneath him, legs wide apart as he thrust into you. "Look at you, such a mess for me" he spoke again, his violet eyes locked with yours. You could only mumble a 'yes' and roll back your eyes as he pushed you through your second orgasm.

Then the third.

Now he had you on top of him; his fingers buried deep into the flesh of your hips, guiding your movements. After climaxing so many times you were starting to get dry.

"Fedya 's too much. C..Can't anymore it hurts" you mumbled under your breath.

"I don't care if it hurts, your only job is to be my playtoy and you can barely manage that. I can tell that you want to please me though so be the good little girl I know you are and make yourself cum for me."

The tears that were forming at the corners of your eyes started cascading down your cheeks when your heard his cruel words. You nevertheless picked up your pace, grinding on him. "That's it. See, wasn't so hard" He started rubbing circles on your clit, causing you to clench around him.

You reached your high soon after; your thighs squeezed his narrow waist as you leaned forward, laying on your partner's chest with your eyes closed; your tears of pleasure wet his pale skin.

When Fyodor gently pushed you off him you tensed. "Please no more I can't take more" you whined but he only brushed off your tears, caressing your cheek with his hand.

You eventually slowly opened your eyes, daring to look ag your partner. His gaze was a lot softer now, any trace of annoyance or anger having dissipated.

"Are you alright, my dearest? I'm sorry if I went too far" he inquired worriedly.

"Yes, I'm okay. Just a bit sore"

After a few minutes of silence spent calming your heartbeat you spoke again.

"Are you still mad at me for talking to Dazai?"

Fyodor huffed and lay next to you, pulling your body closer to his. "I'm not, my dearest. I just don't want to have to compete with that man for your heart."

You chuckled lightly and nestled in his embrace. Your head came to rest on his chest; arms locked tightly around his torso.

"I could never love anyone but you, Fedya"

"I sure hope so" he eventully replied, but you were already fast asleep.

Fyodor let himself drift into the reals of dreams, your steady breath lulling him to sleep.

[moonselune]

Hii! I got a request idea. Astarion x durge reader (if possible male). Many times ive heard the durge being called an “unlovable carcass” and such, so maybe Astarion would reassure and comfort them, that theyre far from a unlovable being.

Thank you 🎀

-If possible? If possible! Darling it's pride month how could I say no!

(I would literally never say no regardless, I was practically raised by the LGBTQ+)

Hope you like it, I had to throw something cute in there to make it a bit more hurt/comforty type

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The campfire flickered softly, casting dancing shadows on the tents and trees around the clearing. Astarion lounged with casual elegance, his keen eyes never straying far from the brooding figure of his darling bahl babe. You sat apart, your mind troubled by whispers and memories that clawed at the edges of your consciousness.

“You look like you’re contemplating how to best brood yourself to death,” Astarion said, his tone light but eyes serious. He rose gracefully and made his way over, taking a seat beside you, his head leaning on your broad shoulder.

You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping and disturbing your feline natured lover who simply just readjusted himself. "Sometimes I think they're right, you know," you muttered. "An unlovable carcass. A monster."

Astarion’s expression softened and he sat up, no longer leaning on you. He reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Oh, darling, who’s been filling your head with such nonsense?”

You tried to look away, but Astarion held his gaze. “It’s not nonsense,” you said quietly. “It’s what I am.”

Astarion chuckled, a warm, rich sound that seemed to dispel some of the gloom around you. “Nonsense or not, I disagree. I find you quite...lovable.” He smirked, leaning in closer. “In fact, I’d say you’re rather irresistible.”

Your eyes flickered with a mixture of doubt and hope. “You’re just saying that.”

“Oh, am I now?” Astarion’s smirk widened. “Tell me, my brooding love, have I ever been known for sugarcoating the truth?”

Despite himself, you couldn’t help but smile slightly. “No, you haven’t.”

“There we go, a smile. Much better.” Astarion’s hand moved to caress your cheek. “Listen to me. You are far more than the sum of your past or the whispers of those who can’t see past their own grubby noses. You are strong, resilient, and yes, even lovable.”

You felt a warmth spread through his chest, the darkness receding just a bit. “You make it sound so easy.”

Astarion leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “That’s because it is. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He paused, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Now, shut me up before Karlach overhears me being sweet or gods forbid- Gale-”

You didn’t wait for him to finish his complaining. With a surge of emotion, you closed the distance, capturing Astarion’s lips in a fervent kiss and pulling him into your lap. It was a kiss that spoke of desperation and need, a frantic attempt to drown out the voices with something real and tangible. With something you truly loved.

Astarion responded eagerly, his hands tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. He broke apart only to catch his breath, but you were relentless, pressing kiss after kiss to Astarion’s lips, cheeks, and neck, as if trying to imprint every touch, every taste, into his memory. As you could replace all the bad thoughts, all the darkness with just him.

Astarion laughed breathlessly between kisses, the sound a delightful mix of surprise and joy. “You really are trying to shut me up, aren’t you?”

You finally pulled back, your breathing heavy, eyes bright with emotion, a happier emoition. “Maybe I am. Is it working?”

Astarion’s smile was radiant, a rare, genuine expression of happiness. “Oh, most definitely. But don’t stop on my account.”

You grinned, a genuine, unguarded smile. “I don’t plan to.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 7

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader, 3.7k words, WARNINGS: mentions of blood, injury, stitches, cursing, violence

Guys... is it weird that I'm crying a little? This is the first series that I've ever done. This is from the first post i ever made on this blog, and I feel like I've met so many amazing people from this series. I did spend a good amount of time thinking of a good way to close this series, and I can only hope that I made it good enough for you guys. My heart breaks leaving these two behind, but I don't think this is the end for them. I do see myself writing some one shots or other things for these two. But regardless... I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this final installment. Sending all of my love always. - Mo

---

Any soldier worth his salt knows what getting shot feels like. Either through their own experience or staying beside their brother. They all say the same thing.

A hard punch.

The immediate all encompassing burn.

Your body feels like you’ve been run over by a train.

Your body on fire.

Air sliding through your lungs like glass shards.

Alfred Solomons has been shot five times.

Six counting this one. The first time was when he was 14, and he was caught snatching sweets from the corner store, and the old store owner with the bad eyes shot at Alfie, grazing his left thigh. The other four times were in the war. Foot and shoulder and once in the lower back, which is still troubling him to this day. All of those were the same. Rage inducing. The bloodlust burning brighter than the flame of the pain. In hours he was fixed up. Rusty scalpels and pliers pulling out the shrapnel as he numbed the cuts by drowning in drink and breaking metal bars with his teeth.

This one was different. The burn and hit was memorable. As memorable as a betrayal. But the bloodlust that got him through that burn wasn’t present. Like warm oil being poured over his mind and body he felt the exhaustion of the tears settle over him. And look. An angel has come to take him to stay with the forefathers. Wow… what a mercy… the angel looks so much like you. Sounds and smells just like you. Like lavender. Like spilled ink and fresh paper. So soft and tender. What a mercy God has given him. That the angel to walk him to the other side would look like the only woman he has ever truly loved.

Tommy and Ollie rush over, as John pulls you away from Alfie's body. You screamed and kicked, trying to get free from John's grasp. "It's alright love it's alright. They're going to fix him up I promise love! He's gonna be ok!" John tried to calm you but you were inconsolable as you saw Alfie's lifeless body being carried out. It takes four men to life his large and hardened body off the ground, a pool of garnet the only sign of the King of Camden’s presence.

John’s attempts at soothing and assurance are met with deaf ears. What point is there for calm and rationalization when Alfie might be leaving you. What point was there to breathe, if breathing meant prolonging a life on Earth that may not have Alfie. Your mind was blank. And you body could do the only rational thing it could do. Wail and preparation for the certain mourning to come.

With a hard smack across your face you suddenly cease, as you see Polly's face in front of you, "Enough! This is not the time for screaming!"

Your lip quivered, never had you been smacked like that before. With a wave, Polly dismissed John to assist Ollie and Tommy, and took you to a chair to sit. Polly wiped your tears, "I am sorry for slapping you, usually I don't smack friends till we are at least 3 months acquainted, but I felt you needed it and I'm sure our friendship will survive. But you need to pull it together darling."

You nodded. It was needed. Even if your ego was now bruised. Polly sighed, "I know you're scared. We all have been in your shoes. But you cannot lose yourself. We need to be there for our men. Yes?"

You nodded. Your man. Your Alfie. Polly stroked your face, "He will live.”

“How can you be sure?”

Polly gives you an embarrassed look, attempting to push up the corner of her mouth, “They always do darling. Try as they might to die, they somehow always make it out. I think God may think these episodes are more of a punishment than Hell.”

A defeated chuckle pushes out of your chest. Alfie would say something as dark as that. And for some reason that makes you feel better. Makes you feel more centered. Polly grabs a bottle from the ground and takes a long swig before passing it to you. You take a longer one, pushing to suppress the sick face you make. Polly’s eyes are glassy, looking at your young face. Thinking and considering how you would handle this. Handle this life. Because if her intuition was right, and it always was, this wouldn’t be the last time you experienced this. This wouldn’t deter you from being next to Alfie. As if Alfie would ever let you go.

Polly stood up suddenly, looking in the gilded mirror on the wall nearest to her, smoothing her dress and repinning those loose curls that fell out in the fray. She holds out a regal hand to you, “C’mon dear. I know where they’d be taking him. He’ll want you near I wager.”

You nod and stand up, not making anymore to wipe the blood or tears off your face. Though it doesn’t stop Polly from straightening out your slip and placing your hair more akin to how you came in. As you begin walking to the door, you see a familiar glint in the shadows and wet of the floor.

Alfie’s signet ring. Small. Small for Alfie at least. You knew him to wear it on his left pinky amongst the rest of his rings. Pure gold, with a royal S engraved onto its front with ivy and thorns. You pause to pick it up and hold it in your hand. It must have slipped off in the scuffle and removal of his body. Polly looked behind herself to see what had made you stop, and marveled at how you had even caught it, “How did you even see that?”

“I suppose I’m just good at looking for his things.”

Polly smiled softly, a familiar ache in her chest reappearing. “Well make sure you don’t drop it hmm? I’m sure he’ll want it back.”

You nod, immediately slipping it onto your left ring finger. You knew innately it wouldn’t budge. It was a perfect fit.

The Shelby family had a trusted physician who routinely dealt with these sort of things. Stand. Cuts. Gunshots. The occasional childhood scrape or concussion when the children needed a good scolding and scare to not be stupid. Dr. Hendricks had been the Shelby physician for many many years. So when he was called for ‘a slight emergency’ he knew that he needed to make immediate preparations.

The Shelby boys and Ollie bashed in the ornate door of Dr. Hendricks’ door, and were immediately met with Mrs. Hendricks pushing the men into the dining room. Already prepped and cold with sterile air Dr. Hendricks directed further with a low and booming voice, “Right here Mr. Shelby, hurry, can’t risk anymore blood loss.”

Alfie was pale, but was still breathing and choking out small groans. Mrs. Hendricks worked diligently alongside the Doctor, who asked questions and made conversation with the men, trying to bring down the tension. “Mr. Solomons boys? Why the sudden fit of charity.”

Mrs. Hendricks hushed him and his sore mouth. But his cheek was what made him so beloved by the Shelbys. Even in what seemed like dire moments, the good Doctor was never one to shy away from a joke or jab. Suddenly Alfie groaned under the crowd. Tommy looked down, shocked Alfie was awake now. Alfie, through the pain and blood, groaned and moaned your name through his teeth. Tommy grabbed Alfie’s arm, “Alright Alfie alright. She’s coming. Took a little bit of a hit didn’t ya old man? You stay awake now for her yeah? Can’t let the girl see ya like this.”

The pain was a hell of a drug, and Alfie could only slur out, “She ok? That little viper make it out ok?”

Tommy could only smile. Even with all the blood loss he was still himself. “Yeah Alfie. Yeah she’s alright. A right harpy screaming out for ya. Now you gotta get fixed up for when she comes back alright?”

Alfie nodded, slipping in and out as the final fragments were being removed, “As soon as im stitched up… I’m killing every Sabini I see. Then I’m fuckin marrying her… you hear me?”

Tommy smiled as Dr. Hendricks scoffed, “I hear you Alfie. I know you will.”

Alfie passed back out on the table. Dr. Hendricks nodded at Tommy and Ollie, “He’ll be alright. Nearly hit some vital organs but it’s alright. Have a nasty scar though, I’m sure he won’t mind. He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the night and into the morning. You all stay here, let’s keep an eye on him yeah? Mrs. Hendricks? Would you call the kitchen to make some supper for the gentlemen here and ladies to come?”

Mrs. Hendricks and the kitchen must have indeed been witches in a past life, or in the present. because there was no logical reason that such a warm and delectable feast could have been prepared so quickly. Soup and bread and cold chicken brought up with strong tea and coffee. When John Shelby asked for gin, his head was swiftly smacked by the effervescent Mrs. Hendricks, who quickly reminded him that she knew where all his sore spots were.

Polly and you arrived soon enough, and were embraced by the Doctor and his wife. The Shelby men stood up quickly, nodding to you in respect. Ollie shucked off his coat to drape over you. It was warm in the house. But your shivering wasn’t for cold.

Before you could look to Dr. Hendricks, he gruffed out from behind his thick salt and pepper beard, “No need to fret Miss. He was a model surgical patient. Nearly slept through the entire thing. In fact that stomach of his is a model for good stitchin’ would you like to see?”

Before Dr. Hendricks could pull back the clean and crisp cotton laid over Alfie’s bare torso to show you his no doubt fantastic work, Mrs. Hendricks stopped with a cherub like hand on his thick arm, “My dear, I don’t think the lady would feel keen on seeing her darling cut and stitched. Maybe some other time yes? Why don’t we let her have time alone with Mr. Solomons? It’s late. I think we should all retire yes?”

With a look around the room everyone nodded, giving their best to you and expressing incredible thank to the Doctor and Mrs. Hendricks. The Shelby boys tipped their hats to you as they filed out. Ollie nodded to you, assuring you that he’d alert your family of your whereabouts. Polly gave you a motherly hug, kissing the tip of your head, “Chin up dear. Must be strong when he wakes up. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

As soon as you came in, you were left alone. With the soft voice of Mrs. Hendricks pulling out of your numb trance. “Let’s get you cleaned up dear. Get you in something a little more comfortable. My daughter was about your size, and I have some of her clothes in her old room.”

Like a child who just woke out of a long slumber, you were lead down the short hallways littered with photos and paintings and certificates to the now guest room of the Hendricks home. Once she realized you had gone nearly despondent, Mrs. Hendricks helped you out of your stained dress, and into a soft cream colored night gown, with pink ribbon threaded through the top. She called one of the maids bring up hot water to wash the makeup, dirt, and dried crusted blood off your face and arms. Your dress was taken to be washed, and Mrs. Hendricks un-pinned your hair, getting it loose and out of your face. She sat you back in the make shift hospital room once she assured your were comfortable and clean. She poured tea for you. Something strong. Something hot. Your thumb rubbed across the delicate ridges on the cup, incredibly interested in the greenery hand painted on the china. Unable to face the near stillness of Alfie on a table.

“You love him don’t you?”

You feel those tears welling up in your eyes. Unable to speak any louder than a whisper, you confess, “Very much.”

She smiled softly, placing her thick soft hands on your knee, “He called for you.”

You looked up, “Did he?”

A soft chuckle left her, and she sounded so much like your mother, “He did. That’s the thing about these military gangster men yeah? Big and strong and tough. Till they get hurt. Then they cry for their women. I think we are the only things that help.”

You nodded, a pained smile sneaking on your lips, hands gingerly slipping into his rough hands. So much gentler now in sleep. Your eyes never leave his hands as you ask, “How do you stand it? How does any woman stand it?”

Mrs. Hendricks just sighs. Remembering the old days with her dear husband James. Back when he running with the Lee boys. When the medical practice wasn’t just a medical practice. There was a reason he was so good at stitching people up. Mrs. Hendricks leaned back in the chair, “By trusting them. By scolding them. Telling them off when they’re being outrageous. By standing by them. Because we know even a little bit of time with them is better than a life without them.”

Mrs. Hendricks then stands up, “It’s nearly 2 sweetie. Why don’t you take Jeanine’s old room? He’ll be there when you wake up.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No. Thank you Mrs. Hendricks. Thank you very much for your hospitality. But I want to be here when he wakes. I just… I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

She softly smiles, a tear slipping by, “Alright sweetie. That’s fine. I’ll bring you a couple blankets then. And a pillow just in case. Feel free to walk around the house if you need. Kitchen is all yours.”

You’re not sure how long you stayed awake after the gifts of the blankets were delivered. But you never laid down. You sat on one of the chairs placed on the dining room table where Alfie laid. You brushed the hair out of his face and ran your fingers over his beard and scars. You rattled off the notes you had for the gaming club. You whispered to him about the set up, the prices, and how he should really be more affable with the customers. But mostly you whispered how much you loved him. How much you wished you had told him sooner. How much he scared you doing that. You chastised him for putting himself in such grave danger. And for every insult and admonishment you kissed a knuckle and scar. Every kiss an oath that you would not leave him. Not willingly. Not before death.

It was mid morning when Alfie’s gruff voice woke you, “Well ain’t you a picture.”

You gasped and sat up straight, hand clutching Alfie’s warm hand. His hand squeezed back tiredly, “Now I know I’m damned… but this sure don’t look like hell… too nice ain’t it. And I know the devil wouldn’t let an angel like you in hell with me.”

“Oh shut up you wretched old man please.”

You crashed your lips into his, relishing even in his slightly chapped lips as he chuckled into you. You feel him move under you, “Now now sweetheart easy on the old man. Don’t go popping my stitches now. Oh treacle why are you crying my dove? I’m here ain’t I? Old Alfie’s alright.”

You couldn’t help the tears falling, “I… Alfie I… you nearly died.”

He sneered, “Nah. The bastard barely nicked me. What about you eh? No bumps or bruises on you?”

You shook your head and sniffled. You knew you looked pathetic but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Alfie was alive. Not when you got to see him in the morning light like this. Alfie groaned as he pushed himself off the table. You moved to help him as he motioned you to settle. He got up, limped to another chair to sit down. The stitches held and he looked good. Still a bit pale but good. “Do you need water Alfie? Tea? I can call for breakfast.”

He shook his head, “No not yet love thank you… but come here.”

The wood floors were cold on your bare feet as you softly walked over to him. He stared up at you, as he tugged on your nightgown, signaling you to sit. Carefully… oh so carefully you sat on his lap, legs swinging over the side, wrapping your arms around his neck. Alfie leaned back with a sigh, bringing you closer, “This is all I need treacle. Just need you near.”

Stroking the scar on his jaw you whispered, “I was so scared Alfie… I thought we’d lost you.”

With half lidded eyes Alfie stared at you. Your sweet lips and teary eyes. A picture of beauty and serenity. The rough callouses on his hands caressed up and down your bare arms, “You’re never going to lose me dearie. I’ll always be here. No matter what. You know why?”

The way his eyes become like fire makes your heart beat faster, “Why?”

He brings your hand to his heart. His own hand dwarfing yours as you feel the strong and steady heartbeat in his chest, “Because this sweetheart… this belongs to you… No matter what happens… in this life the next one and every other fuckin one… I belong to you. You ain’t ever got to worry about what might happen because I’m with you. You got it?”

You smile, nodding, feeling as though your heart is going to burst, “My heart belongs to you Alfie.”

“You don’t have to say it back treacle.”

“I do if it’s the truth.”

A blush rose in his cheeks, barely concealed by his beard and the smile that broke out on his face. “Well… treacle… if that’s the case… I wanted to ask you in a more romantic way…”

“Alfred Solomons…”

“But this seems like a good time…”

“I swear if you dare ask me…”

“And we never know what’s to happen next…”

“Alfred Solomons I am in a night gown!”

“Woman if you do not be quiet I am trying to ask you to be my wife!!”

Your hand flies to your mouth in utter shock. Alfie’s brows are furrowed but he’s trying to keep the smile off his face, “Marry me sweetheart. Be my wife please. I can’t promise that I’ll suddenly be a tame boy but I can promise you that I love you more than any other man ever could love a woman. You can scold me all you want and I’ll never be cross with you.”

He watches you bite your lip and think, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven for real this time. You cheekily smile, “I do like it when you’re cross though.”

A dark glint flashes in his eyes as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, which you all too willingly return. When you come up for air he asks you again, “Is that a yes? You going to be my wife?”

You laugh, “Yes Alfie. Always yes.”

Laughs escaped out of you in a stampede as he presses a million prickly kisses to your cheeks. He mumbles out onto your face, "I need to get you a ring. We'll go to the shop yeah? You pick out any ring you like, I'll resize whatever I need to. Fuck we'll design it for ya yeah?"

You push him back from his assault on your face and hold up your left hand, The one holding his signet, "One could say I have one already. You dropped it on the way over."

Alfie grabbed your wrist to inspect your hand. When he finally recognized the ring and noticed his own was missing, his laughter roared out, "Fuck me you are always so prepared. Always two steps ahead of me ain't ya? Well alright treacle. There's your engagement ring for now. But on our wedding day, I'm giving you a dazzling rock you hear me?"

You laugh again as he rants and raves for his idea of a ring for you. Knowing inside that it didn't matter what he gave you. If he gave you a ring at all. All that mattered was that he was here. He was yours. And you are is.

6 Months Later

The slow sea air dances in through the open window, sending the gossamer curtains floating around you. The radio scratches out something slow and tantalizing from America, the notes sending shivers down your spine. You're dizzy from the night you've had. The butterflies and bubbly drinks and spinning along the floor. You can't believe it happened. You can't believe your wedding day arrived. You feel as though you're amongst the clouds. The only thing keeping you anchored to the Earth is Alfie's grip on your white satin slip as you sway against him to the music.

Late at night. Early morning. Too much work to tell. But it was the first time in a week that you've been able to be alone with Alfie. Your husband.

"What're you thinking about my love?"

You press your face against his chest, shirt long discarded, "I'm just so happy. I didn't think I'd have this. That we'd have this.'

He hums as he presses his lips to your hair, smelling the perfume that had been brushed through your hair. "But we have it now. This is the greatest gift I've ever received. This is the life I've always dreamed of sweet."

You continue to dance with your husband until your bodies couldn't take it anymore. Soon enough he carried you to bed, quickly drifting off into deep sleep in Alfie's arms. In the morning you would wake not as a secretary. Not as a scared girl. Not as someone who felt as she didn't belong. But as Alfie's wife. Alfie's partner. A confidant. A capable woman running a business alongside her best friend. Tomorrow you would wake up excited for this next part of your life. Waking up to a new beginning.

Tag List:

@jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee , @galactict3a , @il0vebeingdelulu @enretrogue @j23r23 @mulletmcghee @afuckingdisasterreally @graceisinloveagain

[gotham-daydreams]

Honestly, if I was reader I would weaponize the fact they literally know next to nothing about me. Hear me out

Bruce and fam show up and are like: it's so irresponsible for you to just disappear and not tell anyone, did you drop out of school just to get away

Me, knowing they never paid attention anyways: no one wanted to talk that night so I left a note. And no I didn't drop out, I graduated with honors. I went to/am going to college for___ degree. I took my diplomas with me because it's MY accomplishment

Or

Bruce letting his high tech medical machine do a series of tests because he's lost it and wants to know every detail down to your white cell count: you've had a significant damage to your pelvis in recent months

Me : oh yeah, My husband is going through a phase

Bruce : you're married???

Me : was it my ring or extraordinarily good sex life that gave it away??

Like seriously, I'd not pull any punches when it comes to hurting them back for what they did to me. Such as mentioning lasting injuries or traumatic events that happened while they were pretending I didn't exist. If anything I'd bring it up just to hammer in the fact that I.don't.need.them. And let them all have mental breakdowns. It gives me joy. And the best part is, they really wouldn't know what's fact or fiction. Let them go hunting for a husband that doesn't exist. Send them on wild goose chases for anything and everything they don't know.

Again, I love all of these spite posts and y'all are a RIOT and I love y'all for that, oh my god.

Icing on the cake? Of course the reader has gotten hurt in the past. They've overworked each and every last atom in their bodies just to have an inch of a connect with the Batfam, but still got nothing for their efforts. Which may or may not be mentioned in part 3 when stuff starts tumbling down even more.

Honestly, why not just make shit like that worse? How are they going to know?

You broke your wrist? Say it was your arm.

An ankle? Say it was both your legs and you were maybe even bedridden for a while. Or just on crutches (which may or may not be canon).

Hell, with the whole husband thing — why not lowkey turn it into a whole ass drama for the hell of it? You've had pervious partners in the past, and honestly some of them were kind of shit but there was this one person who you're actually kind of chill with. Maybe you still have a drink with them every now and again. You're married but have already been through your first divorce and have maybe been thinking of having children, or maybe you already do! (Which, of course, they can be pets but how is the Batfam going to know that right away?)

Basically, go off. They honestly deserve it, and especially because after years they still don't know the smallest thing about the reader. Well- besides that they're into music, and even then that's only about half of them? I believe?

The only one that would see through your bs is Alfred but he isn't going to say anything. Not without being sassy himself and heavily sarcastic. Even if he'll only play along for so long, your the favorite so it's okay. Besides it wouldn't be the first mind games he's played.

It may take everyone a little longer, but you can guess why. Hell, maybe some lies they'll never even find out about, since some of the best lies are told with a little bit of truth to them.

Regardless, it all spunds very fun ♡♡

[cutielando]

Hello can I request draco with a gryffindor reader who happens to be the daughter of both Ares and Aphrodite. How would her parents react when their daughter wanted to marry a former death eater after the battle of hogwarts?

ungodly romance | d.m.

my masterlist

Being the daughter of two Gods came with many difficulties.

With your status came responsibilities, obligations and burdens. Things were expected of you, you needed to reflect well on your parents and your kind.

Studying at Hogwarts had been your way out, your one place where you could be yourself without people breathing down your neck, without being judged for every little thing that you would do. It was your escape.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, that place had forever disappeared from your life. You were back in your closed-off world, living to please the people around you, make them proud and give them someone to show-off and brag about.

However, there was one person whom you reconnected with that gave you your freedom back.

Draco Malfoy.

During the war, you had had to cut off contact with him because of your opposing positions in the war, your parents having forbidden you from associating with Death Eaters or anyone who might tarnish their stellar reputation, as a matter of fact.

You and Draco had just secretly started dating before the war broke out, cutting contact being the most hurtful thing you've had to do. Having just found someone to love you for who you were, and immediately having to let them go.

When you reconnected after the war, it seemed like two pieces of a puzzle reunited after a long time without each other. You finally felt like you were at home again, safe and sound in the arms of the one you loved.

There was just one problem.

Your parents.

The fear that crippled your heart at the thought of them meeting Draco was paralyzing. You knew how they felt about Death Eaters, and despite Draco leaving those days behind, that wouldn't matter to them. He would still be evil in their eyes.

Draco was the one who insisted that he meet them. He was positive that he could change their minds and make them see that he was good for you, that those days were long behind him and he wasn't evil at heart as they had concluded.

You weren't so sure, but you figured you had nothing more to lose. The worst your parents could do was lock you away for good, but it wasn't anything that you hadn't previously been through.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" you asked Draco for the twentieth time as you stopped before the grand door that sat in front of you.

You had been very evasive with details about your boyfriend when you told your parents you would be bringing him to dinner, which sparked their curiosity even more.

But not in a good way.

"Love, we have to get this done. We can't hide away forever" he caressed your cheek, sensing how nervous you truly were.

"Yes, we can. There's nothing stopping us. They don't care about my life anyway, and I know what they're going to say already. This is all really unnecessary" you tried to reason with him, trying to convince him just how bad this idea was in your eyes.

"I want to meet your parents, and regardless of what they say, I'm not giving up on us. Whatever comes our way, we'll deal with it together" looking into his gray eyes, you felt comfort.

Without realizing it, you found yourself nodding and taking his hand, finally entering the place you had been dreading to enter for the past few days.

Immediately, as soon as you stepped foot into the house, servants bombarded you left and right, not even sparing Draco a second glance as they focused on you.

"Master and Mistress are awaiting you in the grand ballroom" one of the servants informed you before disappearing with the others into another room.

You glanced once more at Draco before letting out a big breath, and beginning your journey towards the ballroom.

Once stopped in front of the entrance, you raised your hand to knock, but the doors opened on their own before you got the chance.

"Hello Mother, hello Father" you greeted your parents, both of them conversing with their backs turned to you.

"Sit" your mother's sweet yet icy voice spoke, not turning around yet.

You glanced at Draco with the corner of your eyes, but followed suit nonetheless.

Both of you took a seat next to each other, clearing your throat and keeping your hand clasped in his.

Your parents, Ares and Aphrodite, God of war and Goddess of love and beauty, now stood facing you, eyeing you down wearily. You were accustomed to their intense gaze, but it hurt Draco to look at them.

"Who have you brought here?" your mother asked, her eyes scanning your boyfriend.

By the way she was looking at him, you could already sense her suspicion.

"This is my boyfriend, Draco. Draco, these are my parents"

"It's an honor to meet you both," Draco said nervously.

Your father stared him down, cracking his knuckles.

"What is this young man doing in my house? Do you have no respect for us? Don't you know what he did in the war?" the booming voice of your father echoed off the walls, his fist hitting the long table that stood between you.

You didn't even flinch, accustomed already to his outbursts. There was a reason why he was the God of war, after all.

Clearing your throat, you held your head high and looked at your father.

"I am aware of Draco's actions during the war, but I am also aware of the fact that he did not participate willingly in any of them. He was being forced by his father, who is now residing in Azkaban for his crimes. I know you despise the lot, but Draco is not like them. He never was and he never will. I ask of you that you give him a chance and get to know him before making any judgements" your father was fuming, but you could your mother smiling from the corner of your eyes.

She had always encouraged you to fight for the ones you love, and this was the first time you had really stood up to your father like this.

"I don't want to hear this right now" he turned around and stormed out of the room, something you had known was going to happen.

"Don't worry, my dear. I will speak to your father. Draco, consider yourself welcomed to the family" your mother caressed his shoulder before graciously following after your father.

Left alone in the room, you let out a big sigh of relief, not quite believing what had just happened.

"I told you so" Draco teased, bumping your shoulders.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

thank you for requesting !!

i changed things up a bit as i went along with it, hope that’s okay !!

i hope you like this, i had fun writing it !!

REQUEST HERE

[chococolte]

Heyyy can you do SAGAU!Telling them that their your favorite with kaeya, gorou, and venti? Also I LOVEEE YOUR WRITINGGGG! YOU GOT ME GIGGLING AND RUNNING LAPSS.

word count. 2.1k

୨୧ — ꒰cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. I LIVE. also, thank you!! srry abt the quality i am Sick and i have been working on this for days and i just want to Post It Already

kaeya

Kaeya is used to the cold of loneliness.

He does not expect anything from you, nothing more than he should. He is acutely aware of his place, the empty spot by your feet, choked next to all of the others who worship you. That is where he resolves himself to live. That is where he expects himself to sit.

With that alone, he would've been content. Always desperate for more, hanging off of your every word, but never daring to take more than allotted.

Kaeya was fine to serve as your acolyte, patiently waiting for your next kindness or glance, no matter how much he would've liked to be more— but you seem to enjoy letting him live his little fantasy of being special to you. You like to see him fester in it. Kaeya doesn't care if his perception of you is altered, twisted like hot air in a torrid desert— he trusts himself over the word of god, no matter how hallowed your voice or how much he wishes to believe it.

"My favorite," you say. You say it with such ease, the words rolling off your tongue as if they're not blessings in verbal form. As if they are not words he has imagined you saying over and over, countless times to lull himself to sleep. Your favorite, he's imagined himself as being; only whenever he can't unlodge the thought from his mind, for the moments where he can't stomach to think of anything other than you.

Kaeya thought it would stay as a mere daydream. He would've preferred it that way. It would've made it easier to hate you.

He could've lied to himself before. He could've said that he meant nothing to you; merely a tool at your disposal. That of all his love and worship was worthless, that he should stop caring so much for a being who never cared for him back.

"My favorite," you say. You say it only once, though Kaeya wishes you would say it again.

Your voice was soft. Comforting. Kaeya could almost believe you were being genuine. His heart still sings regardless, humming in his chest, banging against his ribcage as if it does not know the ugly truth of the world. People lie. And the gods are cruel, and to imagine you as anything different means to be a fool.

Still, Kaeya lingers. He feels the frost slowly thaw, warm blood beginning to run through his fingers. He feels you, as all that you are, welcome him. Kaeya knows he should not believe any of it, that he should turn away now while he still has the time to do so, but he can't bring himself to look away from you.

It's you, after all. The world itself wouldn't dare to stand beside you. Kaeya is no better, bruised and unwanted— but you want him. You look at him with fondness, with favor he knows he does not deserve. With love that should not be his.

Still, Kaeya hungers. He takes your words and he runs, desperate to keep them to himself. He is yours, no one else's; he is your favorite, not anyone else. He may not deserve it— he doesn't, not when he has hated you for so long— but he wants it to be his alone. He wants to be yours alone.

He wants to sit by your feet, to caress the flesh of your legs. He alone wants to be beside you, to call you by your sacred name.

"My favorite," you say. Does that mean he can be yours? Does that mean he can finally rest in your embrace, safe and loved by you and no other?

Can he finally worship you the way he has always wanted— his mouth on your skin, his piety unfurling like flowers from his lips? Pure and untainted, he molds against you as if his entire body was meant to be a perfect fit. Your every touch remains even after you've left, burning his skin and setting his nerves aflame.

Kaeya replays your words one more time. Just once, he tells himself, though he knows he'll do it again. He can't forget the way you looked, the curve of your smile, and the twinkle in your eyes. You in every way. The you he would kill to breathe the same air as. The you he would die to know if he exists within your heart.

You'll tell him again, won't you?

gorou

Gorou doesn't think he's deserving.

He knows he isn't. Gorou is many things, but worthy of your affection is not one of them. He is not the strongest of your acolytes, neither is he the brightest— Gorou is merely himself, and he is keenly aware of how little meaning that holds.

Gorou partook in daydreams and sinful reveries, but was self-aware enough to realize they would never come true. He is beneath you, barely deserving to exist in the same world as you, and he has done nothing to deserve to walk beside you. He knows where he stands, and he knows that any step towards you is imaginary.

You are his god, and Gorou is fine to exist as he always has. Only ever dreaming of what it would be like to be yours.

How nice your touch would feel. How lovely your voice would sound so close. How amazing it would be if he could feel your hands in his hair, or your fingers running through the fur of his tail. He imagines what it would be like to be your pet often enough the thought feels like home.

You feel like home. Warm, safe. Yet, he can't reach you. He can't even brush his fingers against your form.

You are entirely unreachable, no matter how much he tires his arms trying to grab you. You sit at the top of heaven, beyond everything that he is. Gorou can only taste you in his thoughts, where even then the shame eats at him. If you knew how he’s tarnished your pure form, tainting you with his impure thoughts— would you finally do away with him? Though, in all his desperation, maybe he really wouldn’t mind. He’d get to see you.

"You're my favorite," you say. You reach over and scratch his scalp, fingers scraping against the base of his ears. Gorou represses a shiver, barely able to stand. His knees tremble lightly, despite how hard he tries to keep himself calm.

Your voice is so soft, so lovely it makes his heart ache. And from this distance, he knows he couldn't have misheard you— he's your favorite, and his lungs are almost entirely bereft of air.

Gorou wants to hear you say it again. He wants to ask, but the words die on his tongue, useless. He can't speak, his throat choked by thoughts and mantras of how wonderful you are. Just you, you, and you— you are everything, and he is nothing. But he is something to you— you have made him into something.

Something that you like. Something that you prefer, that you favor over the rest. Gorou isn't useless anymore, isn't worthless; he can't be, when his existence is liked by you. He serves a purpose now. Your purpose. And that purpose is perfect.

If he does well, maybe you'll say it again. If he proves himself worthy of having your gaze, maybe you'll touch him again. He can't stop thinking of the curve of your palm, the warmth from your pulse. His ears twitch, following the lingering echo of your voice in the air. Desperate to hear you again, even in such a small, pitiful way.

If you saw how pathetic he is, hugging his pillow pretending it's you— would you say it again? He hopes you would.

venti

The wind carries your words far before they reach him.

The air is heavy with languor, and the pleasant scent of flowers and honeysuckle. Your breath is soft, almost soundless, but Venti hears the roll of your tongue, the curl of your lips; he hears your words, beautiful as they are, and struggles to keep himself composed.

Venti thinks your voice is the most stunning in the world. Mellifluous and euphonious; every utterance a perfect cadence, every stutter a beauteous lyric. You could insult him, and he would take pleasure in hearing you speak. Your praise is like a siren’s song, drawing him in— Venti does nothing as his senses are overwhelmed by you, only spreading his arms wider so you may reach all of him.

And to be your favorite is the highest praise there is.

You say it with a small smile on your face. You say it unaware of the effect it has on him, of the way your words grip and pull him tight. Venti can't breathe, but he enjoys the feeling of suffocating— he delights in it. It's because of you, after all; and he delights in anything you could ever give to him.

Your breath is a holy gale. Your speech is to be delivered on the swiftest winds. Your laughter echoes throughout all of Teyvat, light and pleasant. Your voice is like an angelic choir singing, though he loathes to associate you with anything lesser. It is a sound incomparable to anything he knows; it is uniquely yours, entirely you. It belongs to nothing immortal or mortal, to no god or man. He could listen to you endlessly, an eternity spent writing poems and ballads about the way you talk.

Venti likes it most when you compliment him. When you tell him how pretty he is, or how talented he is musically. His skill has been tempered and honed by centuries of practice, and little compliments shouldn’t fluster him as easily anymore— but yours do.

"You're my favorite," you say, but Venti makes sure no one but him hears.

He wants to scream and for the world to know it. He wants to send your words so far that every life will have heard it. He wants to beg on bruised knees and plead with a bloodied throat for you to say it again, and again, and one more time after that— but he stops himself with all of the patience learned from being the anemo archon, however little it may be. Venti keeps himself silent, barely contained.

You wouldn’t want the others to know. You’d prefer it if it stayed between you, a secret kept between sealed lips. You wouldn’t want the others to fight, kind as you are. Venti says nothing of his own opinion on the matter, that he’d rather they all maim each other until they’re bloodied spots on the ground.

He wants everyone to know. He wants them to look, to gawk, and weep their mindless tears and apologies for not being good enough to deserve your attention. He wants to revel in their jealousy and bitter resentment; he wants nothing more than to bask in your light, love, and affection. He wants the others to know their place. Beneath him, beneath you.

But a small part of Venti still hungers to keep it to himself. Your words are just his to own, to stay close to his chest and treasure. He wants to adore them in private, to worship your speech alone. He could write ballads about your utterance until his fingertips bleed raw. His fingers have long ached from how often he strums his lyre, his knuckles an unsightly purple. You don’t want that, though. Venti thinks that’s a shame. How else is he supposed to show you how much he worships you?

Especially if he’s your favorite. He has to be worthy to hold onto that title. Worthy enough there’s no risk of him ever losing it.

He is constant, wild, and zealous. He is like a storm, forever churning and spinning. Venti doesn’t dare to hide behind masks of guile, or to act as if he isn’t desperate for a single glance in his direction. He would never lie to you. He is exactly as he appears— an acolyte who has run out of reasons to live long ago, but found them spirited deep within you.

Venti has always cared little for propriety, but he grows only bolder with your admission. He hooks your arms together, interlocking your fingers with eyes of fervor. He hungers for your attention and he does so ostensibly. But there’s a certain desperation in his actions, a plea for you to keep your eyes turned to him.

You don't mind his greed, do you? Let him find life within your voice.

[omg-just-peachy]

SteveTony drabble prompt #8 "That child is staring at you."

"That child is staring at you," Tony says in Steve's ear. They're waiting patiently in line for coffee — at least, Steve is waiting patiently — Tony on the other hand, is quietly contemplating leaping over the counter. Regardless, the little girl in front of them has been gazing adoringly at Steve for the last five minutes, her mother grilling the poor barista about every possible menu option, apparently.

She's adorable, all tiny blond pigtails and huge brown eyes.

"She is not," Steve says. "She's probably looking at you."

She is looking at Steve, though. Tony knows, he invented that lovesick look. Or so he's been told. Repeatedly, and by many sources.

"Sure is. I know that look," Tony says matter of factly, winding his arms around Steve's waist, smiling at the flush that crawls its way up his neck. God, it really would never get old, eliciting that kind of reaction from one Steven Grant Rogers. "I invented that look."

To his credit, Steve tries valiantly to keep a straight face.

"You have graced the cover of Time on numerous occassions for your inventions," Steve muses. "I don't recall being mentioned, though..."

Tony waggles his fingers at the little girl as they finally (finally!) move up in line, her mother finally having made up her mind. She doesn't look away from Steve for longer than a second, but she registers the gesture enough to break out in a smile.

Something, anyway.

"Ah, I'm saving that nugget for our joint Vanity Fair cover. At Home with Captain America and Iron Man... I can see it now," he teases.

Steve's flush deepens. "That's...I... you're not actually planning that are you?" Steve sputters.

"You know babies like pretty people? There's a fun fact for you. Science. You can trust me on that," Tony says, pointing to himself. "Science guy. And you, you are the definition of capital P pretty, Steven."

"Next!"

Tony has to order for them while Steve recovers, still flustered, though he does give in and wave at the baby as she gets carried out of the coffee shop. She squeals loudly, delighted.

"Tell me about it, kid," Tony says, taking Steve by the hand and leading them out the door and into the sunshine, long-awaited coffees in tow.

(i have this tony stark vanity fair print from @tifftac hanging on my wall and was looking at it while i wrote this. isn't it so pretty, go look at it <3)