#ADORABLE LADS!

[iamvegorott]

Like last year ima try and do your writing prompts for Danti!

And yes while re-reading this I realized anti was supposed to be holding dark but yknow I was already half way done so yeah🥲! Looking forward to the upcoming fics with these two! ❤️

LOOK AT THEM!!! <3

They're so cute! Anti got his cuddles!

I love this so much!!!

I am already so excited to see the other drawings!

[mothwingwritings]

I know a lot of people like to hone in on Sylus' more dominant and teasing side, and while I do love those aspects of him what I really really love is the softer side of Sylus that he only shows to you. ♡

The Sylus that avidly listens to everything you say, drinking you in with with a dopey little grin on his face as you fill him in on everything and anything happening in your life. The Sylus that lets you decorate his chic and mature office with all the plushies you have won together from the claw machine, looking at them fondly as if they were great treasures you have scored. The Sylus that will gladly wear stupid matching kigurumi's with you in public and have fun doing it, reputation be damned. The Sylus who absentmindedly plays with your hair while you are sitting together on the couch watching a movie, sighing in contentment as his long fingers massage your scalp. The Sylus who has memorized all your favorite foods and works hard to come up with new recipes to delight you based of what he already knows you love. The Sylus who's hugs completely engulf you, squeezing and holding you like a lifeline, almost as if he's afraid to let go. The Sylus who stays glued to your side until you fall asleep each night, even though you know his day has hardly begun and he has more important things to be attending to-you always take precedence. The Sylus that wants nothing more than to see you happy and thriving, and will do whatever it takes to make that a reality.

He truly makes me weak. (╥﹏╥)

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Corporate needs you to find the differences between these two pictures.

[calebsapplez]

hes so adorable . . .🥺🍎🤍

caleb smiling with his eyes closed !!!

.

.

found on X / by @honey_appleteas

credits !

[darkwicks]

Safe and Sound

He wonders if you know how complete you make him feel. A gentle kiss, your softer hand intertwining fingers with his calloused ones, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile up at him. In a way, it heals wounds in him that he didn’t know he had.

PAIRING.⠀Qin Che | Sylus x Reader

CONTENT.⠀Gender-neutral reader; established relationship, fluff, sleepy cuddles // ~0,5k words

A/N.⠀1/3 drabbles dedicated to @henndowski because I got impatient <3 reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

Available on AO3

Sylus knows how easy it is for you to get tired.

You used to tell him people didn’t like that about you. That they always took it personally, thinking you were deliberately pushing them away, when the truth is that your body just reaches its limit sometimes. It’s something you’ve dealt with since you were little. It’s never a personal attack and it’s not something you do on purpose. He understands it very well, yet you still apologise for it every time, and every time you do, he wants to hold your hands and tell you that he knows. It’s a part of you. It won’t deter him from loving you.

He thinks it’s endearing. Even now, as he reads you a page from his book with you seated in his lap, a blanket draped over your frame. It’s not often you ask him to read to you. You’re always so tentative when it comes to asking for something, especially reassurance. Words don’t come easy to you, so you can’t always tell him exactly what you want, but he’s so well-attuned to you that he just knows how to read your mind.

His chin rests atop of your head as the words from the page leave his lips in a voice that’s only slightly higher than a whisper. You’re curled up against his body, cheek resting against his chest as he supports you with his free hand. Your breaths are steady and slow, all the worries you previously had melting away into his comforting embrace. Any other time he’d (lightly) scold you for falling asleep in such a position, but something about the way you hold on to him makes him fall into that sense of comfort, too. He wonders if you know how complete you make him feel. A gentle kiss, your softer hand intertwining fingers with his calloused ones, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile up at him.

In a way, it heals wounds in him that he didn’t know he had.

Putting the book down, he wraps both of his arms around you this time, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. Your lips curl into a content smile as you snuggle closer to him, sleepily clasping your hand over his. He shifts in his spot just the slightest, finding a more relaxing sitting position before bringing a hand up to smooth your hair, tenderly scratching his nails against your scalp.

His eyelids flutter. Calmness seeps into his system and his body feels light, boneless. Though his nights tend to be sleepless, having your warmth so close to him brings him home, safe and sound. A soft sigh leaves his nose. He’s getting sleepy, lulled by the sound of your breathing. He’d prefer the bed so you can fully stretch your legs and wake up without any aches in your muscles, but uncharacteristically of him, he doesn’t want to move.

Love blossoms across his chest, rushing all the way up to his cheeks as he pulls you closer. He’ll stay here with you until you wake up. You need this. You love this.

So does he.

[danceinthunder]

Can you imagine how flustered James would be when he and Regulus start dating and Regulus starts actually being really affectionate and soft with him?

Like of course Regulus still teasingly bullies him (it’s one of his love languages and James loves it dw) but when he starts also complimenting him and giving him random hugs and stuff? James would melt and blush and not know how to respond.

And Regulus would love the fact he can shut James up better than anyone so he’d just do it all the time. Everyone round Hogwarts would be so confused about how The Regulus Black, who seemingly only had two moods: indifference and annoyance, suddenly started being so sweet and soft to James Potter.

He’d chase him down the halls when he forgot a textbook in his room calling for his “Sunshine” and James would be speed walking away blushing the entire time but absolutely adoring the attention at the same time.

[ok-pop-1]

(the other) fairy boy :)

[mediocredoots]

My MC with my sleepy prince Xavier 🐰💤

Taking commissions ☕

[starmocha]

Sylus' VA, respectfully, I would like to kiss you on the mouth

[revasserium]

i’m CRAVING a sanji fic rn 🤤🤤

maybe something on showing affection with him? cause i feel like he’s kinda superficial with his affection when first trying to get with u, but then as the relationship progresses the affection becomes so much more.

well ur in luck bc i do have a sanji fic cookin currently but who knows how long it'll take me to actually finish... in the meantime... here are some sanji domestic/affectionate!headcanons bc why not

in the beginning, it would be the grand gestures -- always waking you up with a kiss and coffee (or tea, if you're sick, or just don't feel like coffee that day) and your favorite foods; a bouquet of fresh flowers (do not ask him how he obtains these in the middle of the ocean; he will not tell you and robin remarks loftily one day that you might not like the answer)

in the beginning, he'd tell you he loves you every single hour, lest you forget for even a minute, even though it's only been like... a week and you're not entirely sure what "love" means quite yet

and then, it'd taper off, not because the 'honeymoon phase' is over, but because he'd find other ways to show you -- other ways of tellin you he loves you without telling you in so many words

there's still breakfast, but sometimes instead of coffee or tea, there's a book that you mentioned you'd been wanting to read, there's an origami crane folded out of the napkin with such excruciating care it almost breaks your heart, there's a note written in his sloppy, slanted handwriting that he dreamt of you last night and couldn't figure out if he wanted to wake up to tell you or keep sleeping not to break the fragile dream

and the "i love you"s become something else too -- they become "how did you sleep, love?" and "i knew you'd be craving that" and "c'mon, drink up -- there's more where that came from" and "tell me about your dreams" and "funny, those sound an awful lot like my dreams too".

it'd solidify, this kind of love -- his kind of love -- into something much quieter than anyone might suspect. this kind of love that simmers, the kind of love that curls around you like a hot bath, that draws you in

it's the way he always saves the wishbone whenver he cooks up any kind of bird, how he always waits till everything is done and the kitchen's all cleaned up before pulling you toward the counter, to the tiny little bone with it's winged flanges, him holding one end, the other offered out like a promise (or a wish)

you've pulled so many between you that you've lost count of how many wishes you've made, until you're laughing and complaining that you're running out of things to wish for

"what do you wish for?" you ask one day, when you've tugged and sanji gets the wish, to which he only looks at you and says, "always the same thing, actually. always... just another day with you."

[hannahssimblr]

On the bike again, sun high, cutting through salted road tracks around Fairview Park. Over the Tolka, the Royal Canal, O’Connell Bridge across the Liffey—water like slush in there, churning instead of flowing. I could do this ride with my eyes shut. A hundred times, weaving the city’s arteries, knowing them like the veins on my wrist. But under snow, Dublin is extraterrestrial. A surreal experience as the lights turn amber to red, pedestrian crossing clicking with nobody to cross. Shadows are sharp and perfect as the old Georgians along the quay throw geometric shapes like paper cutouts. My gears clunk, chain clicking, careening around Westmoreland Street. Tyres bump over tram tracks. Barricades of snow, shovel-blackened, line the edge of every road. Icy wind in my face draws tears from the corners of my eyes as I pedal on. 

Jen’s living in Ranelagh these days. Basement flat of a little redbrick place off Sallymount Avenue. It’s horrendous in that sort of authentic Dublin way. Obligatory bathroom mould, kind of thing. Paint on one side of the house is bubbling with damp, and the perpetual smell of old cigarettes permeates every corner. A film of sticky yellow residue from a long departed smoker still clings to the low ceilings, which I ran my finger though the last time I visited. Rolled it into a gooey dust ball and stuck it in Jen's face when she was trying to wash the dishes.

She’s in her bedroom painting her toes when I haul my bicycle through the weeds and chain it to the fence. I pound my fist on the window and frighten her. Mouth in a startled little O before she grins at me, her usual wicked smile. A mouth full of short, rounded teeth. 

“Well you. Are you chilly?” she says, unlatching the door.

“Yeah,” I launch myself inside, grabbing her head and kissing the top of it a dozen times while she cackles. She’s done something weird to her hair again, half white, half black, split down the middle like Cruella De Vil. “Any luck with those dalmatians?” I ask. She ignores me and slams the door behind us. 

“Welcome home, stranger,” she heads for the kitchen, MDF cabinets bloated with water damage. Barefoot, her heels are blackened from the dirt of the floor. “Will you have a coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks. That’d be really nice.” Seat myself at the table then. Textbooks strewn about, eyes glazing over the titles as the kettle boils and she spoons instant coffee into a mug. “How’s college?”

“Shite. How about you?”

“It’s alright.”

“Are they still wanking themselves off over your paintings over in Berlin? Turner the Wonderboy.”

I just smile. “I’m doing fine.”

She throws her head back in a laugh. “Say no more. And the rest of it all? The job?”

“Oh, Christ.” Weakened from even thinking about it, I have to put my head on the table. 

“Not great, is it?” Jen sinks into the seat opposite and slides the mug to me. I hold it, slightly too hot to touch, and let the warmth prickle through my palms. Staring into its murky depths like a crystal ball, while chunks of undissolved grounds float about the surface. A pair of eyes laden with dark circles stare back. 

“Do I look corpse-like these days? I feel like I’m sort of rotting from the inside out.”

“No. Sure you’re only gorgeous. You get more gorgeous every time I see you.”

“Hmph.”

“Welcome to the working world,” she says, her glee barely disguised. I’m starting to see things for how they are now, in a depressing sort of way. Looking back on things I said to her before, about not affording things or not feeling welcome in certain places, and cringing about it. To know I was ignorant and spoiled, going about my life with my nose in the air while my friends faced struggles beyond my comprehension. Even last year, when Jen moved here, I told her to pick a nicer place. Somewhere with natural light, closer to town, assuming my logic was flawless. I want to tear through the fabric of time and sock myself across the jaw. 

Sipping her coffee, Jen leans back and gazes out the tiny window into the yard out back. It’s a tip out there. A nearby business uses it to store its bins and dump its miscellaneous waste, though nobody actually knows if they have permission to do so. “And how’s the lovely miss Astrid? The most recent pics I saw of ye were off in Slovenia or somewhere, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah, our anniversary trip. That was November. She’s fine. She’s…” I trail off and stare at the table. The upstairs neighbour crosses the room overhead, the thump of feet shaking the ceiling. The TV goes on. It’s so loud we can hear every word of the afternoon weather report. “She’s doing well with her ceramics,” I manage. “She’s got an exhibition on next week, which she’s pretty excited about.”

“Oh, wow, yeah. Good for her.” Jen’s smiling encouragingly, eager to show that my relationship with Astrid doesn’t bother her. Wants me to know she supports the choices I have made, even if lately I don’t even really support them myself. It’s my fault it’s like this anyway, with Jen, I mean. The times she’s expressed doubts about the fairness or ethics of my relationship, I’ve made her feel like her opinion is an imposition. Defending Astrid, like, no, she doesn’t mean it like that/I know it sounds bad, but it’s just the way she says it/She finds it hard to sound sincere. “I just care about you,” she said glumly during a call, and I made sure to smile, so it came across in my voice. “I know, Jen, and I love that about you. It’s just that it’s hard to ‘get’ a relationship when you’re not in it. I don’t want to feel you’re judging her when you actually just don’t know her.” Eventually, Jen stopped venturing beyond the realm of small-talk. This bright smile is her way of staying out of it.

“I’ve seen her ceramics online, actually. They’re cool,” she says.

“Oh, yeah? You think?”

“I followed her on Instagram a while back, yeah,” her smile strains before she adds, “they’re not ceramics you’d have clattering around your kitchen, though, are they? They’re a bit out there.”

“Yeah, so basically they’re not meant to be functional. They’re meant to reflect, like, states of metamorphosis and conflict, creating, um, organic shapes inspired by human figures and the landscapes of northern France where she has spent a lot of time. She fires them multiple times to kinda represent the passage of time. It’s a whole statement, rather than, you know, a mug to have your tea out of.”

“Aw yeah. Dead cool. I wouldn’t have got all that from looking at them.”

Silence. Jen takes a slow sip of her coffee, eyes flicking toward the window. “All good to see Shane later?”

“Yeah. That dinner thing? Of course. Why?”

She nods, still looking out, like she’s working something out in her head. Then: “Did he—” She stops. Frowns slightly. “Never mind.”

I sit up. “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

I just look at her.

She sighs. “Did he text you about Evie’s birthday thing?”

A jolt of energy moves between us. “No,” I say, carefully. “He didn’t.”

“Oh.” A wince. “Shit. He probably meant to. You know what he’s like. Or maybe he texted me and assumed I’d text you, which is my bad…” she does not stop speaking, and I do not stop her, both knowing if I allow her to go on, we will not have to acknowledge the situation, as the room tips slightly, becoming unreal.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s totally fine,” I hear myself saying in between gaps in her words, weaving in and out of her cyclical ramblings, reassuring myself, really. “Simple mistake. It’s no big deal. It’s fine, it’s fine. Jen. Nobody’s fault.”

“No, but we don’t have to go,” she’s saying. “I told him maybe, you know, maybe if we felt like going, but it’s going to be mostly people from her college, I think. It could be completely be weird if we went, you know? Since we don’t know her anymore, really, do we?”

“No, you’re right, yeah. We wouldn’t have to.”

“And when I saw her months ago, she said she doesn’t care about any of it anymore, so.”

I stop. “You saw her?”

Jen blinks. “Yeah, yeah. I saw her at some bar. Did I not tell you that either?”

“Uh, no. I think I’d remember if you did.”

“Oh. Oh. Well, yeah… I was out one Friday in this bar on Dame Lane. One of those horrible swanky places where cocktails are like a million euro. Ran into her in the toilets fixing her makeup.” Her eyes flicker away, avoiding mine. “I didn’t even know it was her at first. She was like… I dunno, like, all sharp angles, tiny little dress with her whole back out. Different, you know?”

Leaning forward now, chewing on that word. Different. Fascinated by its implications. The feeling she’s some unlockable character, an outline with features unrevealed. Discover myself loathing the idea of change. I don’t want it. I want her to be where I left her, on that beach, lying on a beach towel in some perpetual summer, waiting for me to come back. 

“How?”

She shrugs, a forced gesture. “Oh, like, she just looked like she belonged there.” 

“That’s not what you actually mean.”

She presses her lips together. “Okay, well, like, she was cold, Jude. I tried to bring up that summer, just to clear the air, say I was sorry for sticking my nose in, but she shut it down. Properly shut it down. Acted like I was dragging up ancient history that no one but me even cared about.”

A flicker of something ugly moves through me. “Right.”

“She actually said, why are you talking to me about this?” she shakes her head. “Like I was a weirdo.”

“Oh.”

“And then about half an hour later,” Jen hesitates, then, knowing the next part will land wrong. Saying it anyway. “She was outside, tongue kissing some guy in the smoking area like her life depended on it.”

A sharp pulse in my stomach. I have to glance away. “Really?”

“Yes.” She lowers her voice to a gossipy whisper. “Aggressively. Like she wanted people to see.”

A beat of silence. We look at each other. “Well,” I say, my voice light and detached as I can manage. “I suppose she can do what she wants, can’t she?”

“Yeah, power to the women, et cetera. He wasn’t handsome, by the way. He was kind of vegetarian looking.”

I squint. “I don’t actually give a shit how vegetarian-looking the men she kisses are. That’s not something I’m up at night wondering about.” 

She laughs. “Oh, right, well, I’m just saying. Anyway, that’s just reminded me I have to tell you about this lad my mate was going out with. Talk about weird men. He was into improv comedy, and the first date, took her to an open mic comedy show…” 

I stare blankly while she talks. Words swimming around me like abstract sounds muffled behind a screen. Sharp angles. She said. Where? Her cheeks? Her hips? A vision of said backless dress, curve of her spine, leaning over a sink. Blue lights. The Evie in my head covers her face in embarrassment at the thought of wearing a dress like that. “God, no,” she cries. “You wouldn’t catch me dead. I’d never.” 

“... and he bombed.” Jen says with emphasis. “Like, nobody laughed. They actually heckled him.”

“Oh, gas.” I reply. 

And kissing this vegetarian-looking guy. What is it with that? Liam from the surf shack was relatively vegetarian-looking, thinking back on it, wasn’t he? Big leather sandals on him. Is that actually just what she likes? Feeling threatened now by men who get the lentil burger off the pub menu. I could take him down onto the floor in three seconds with the power of animal protein. I boast to imaginary Evie inside my head. She’s not listening to me. Her boyfriend is showing her how he makes deodorant out of coconut oil. 

“... she went on a second date too, after all that. And it was so much worse…”

I drain my coffee, drum my fingers on the side of the mug. Get up and wander towards the window and look out of it. “Mm. Some guys are just so fucking weird,” I say as Jen expands the universe of this nightmare date, introducing the element of one-sided polyamory. 

“... anyway, she’s better at telling the story. I’ll get her to tell you herself. Hey, maybe after dinner I'll invite her over. We could grab a few cans and just hang out here. What do you think?”

I’m fixated on a robin, hopping from one snowy twig to the next. “Hm? No. I think I’ll go to the party.”

She stops. Makes a sound that isn’t quite a laugh. “Wait, are you messing?” 

“No, whatever. We’ll just swing by and say hello.”

I don’t look around to see her reaction, but feel it, a charge in the air. “Jude, like… Sorry, but what’s the point of that?”

“A few drinks. It’ll be fine. Just say happy birthday to her, and then we can go. I just want to be civil.” 

“Okay.. are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like that anymore between us anyway, you know? She doesn’t care, and I obviously don’t care either. It’s just, like, two old friends running into each other.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, then with resignation, says, “alright, I suppose if that’s what you want to do.”

I stretch. Easygoing. Roll my neck and shoulders, shaking something off me. “Yeah. It’ll be fine. It’s casual.”

The silence sits between us, stretching out as she watches me, waiting for something. But I don’t give her anything. Nothing to give. 

 Outside, the robin takes fright and flits away, disappearing into the perfect blue sky. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

This man is so love drunk here. He's completely gone. Lost to the whole world and everything in it except for the immense love that is consuming every fiber and neuron of his being.

[heartchitectx]

Caleb would be the ultimate partner for age regressors are you kidding

want some cute little onesies? "What colors do you want? Any specific patterns?" "Awwww look at my cute lil pipsqueak, adorable as always~!"

Need a pacifier? "Careful, don't drop it silly, I'll remember to get a nice clip later." "Do you feel better now? Yeah, I gotcha."

Want to be spoonfed? He will do the airplane with the spoon/fork. He will. And he will tickle you if you don't open the landing hatch.

Extra snuggly and needy? He will set you in his lap and even pout at YOU if you try to climb off. No. Snuggle time.

Want bedtime stories and lullabies? So many. as many as you want. No matter how much they realistically suck. He will make up his OWN songs for you even and weave the most absurd tales he can think of if it makes you smile and get some sleep. Tucks you in, kisses your head, holds your hand the whole time, too.

Want plushies? Plushies everywhere. You will have your plushies. You will lay in a bed made of them if you truly desire.

Can't speak well/at all? That's okay! Make grabby hands and he knows you want uppies. Spout some babbling and wave your hands and he already has a hunch you want your bottle/sippy cup.

He will make sure you know you are loved and cared for. He'll doodle with you and hang all your drawings on the fridge and keep the sloppy doodle you made of you both holding hands in his pocket forever, even when on Colonel duty.

Be careful though, he'll request more of your masterpieces when that one starts getting tattered.

[darkwicks]

4:00

You wake Caleb from a nightmare.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀gender-neutral reader | established relationship, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff. soft couple-y things | ~0,4k words

A/N.⠀the last hurt/comfort wasn't enough I need to turn myself into mush

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Sleep doesn’t come to Caleb easily, and when it does, it’s not always one of peace.

His brows are knit together and his breathing is ragged as he squirms on his side of the bed, body tensing up until it’s trembling. You’ve woken up just a handful of minutes ago, having needed to use the restroom, but whatever traces of grogginess in your system is gone the moment you see him in the dim light.

“Caleb,” you whisper, gently shaking him. “Caleb, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

His eyes snap open and he gasps, taking in heavy, uneven breaths before staring at you wide-eyed. Sweat dots at the crown of his head and some of his hair sticks to his skin. His lips are parted and alarm is written all over his face. When he sees that it’s you, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief and clasps his hand on top of yours, squeezing it to keep himself grounded.

“It’s just a nightmare.” You gently brush his hair back with your free hand and cup the side of his face, thumb caressing his cheeks in what you hope is a reassuring manner. “You’re with me. It’s okay.”

Slowly calming down, he throws his head back and sighs again. The tension gradually leaves his body as he relaxes under your touch, his features softening with time. “It’s the explosion.”

You frown, intertwining your fingers with his. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

In a way that is quite out of character of him, he looks up at you with a pleading gaze, teary eyes staring into your own.

“Will you hold me?” he asks softly. He sounds so broken that it gnaws at you, heat rising up to your face as you clench your jaw, furious at who was behind the explosion—behind his death. You move into the spot beside him, finding a comfortable position before reaching your arms out, encouraging him to fall into you.

The anger seeps out of your body the moment you make contact. His warmth reminds you that he is here, alive and well, alive and yours. He rests his face on your chest, one arm draped over your waist as he shifts closer to you, holding on to you possessively. You press a soft kiss to the top of his head and rub soothing circles on his skin while humming a lullaby. It’s the same one he hums to you when you can’t sleep. Caleb has always had your back since you were little. He’s always looking out for you, always keeping you safe and protected.

This time, you return the love back to him tenfold. This time, you’ll be the one to protect him.

[myearts-uwu]

Lovely Sorceress

I wanted to draw my OC/MC in her dragon Sylus myth outfit because I'm gonna be so honest man I am experiencing the most intense kinda brainrot over her and dragon Sylus I am genuinely NOT OKAY SAVE ME-

[bolackloamtbyyyshaker9000]

F this, the tests are flooding my mind, but here's my daily SnowCrow:

Whenever Zayne smells like jasmines, Sylus knows something is up. Let's say that bathing himself in jasmines is one of his ways of reliving stress. It's not frequent, but he does do it occasionally. Sylus, being the dotting lover that he is, will immediately come to the rescue and absolutely PAMPER Zayne. Food, bath, massage, manicure, pedicure, relaxation, sweets, EVERYTHING. He won't stop until Zayne is completely fine.

The doctor will admit that it is quite overwhelming at times, and if so, all he has to do is tell Sylus to give him space and space will be given. After, let's say 5 hours of complete separation (Sylus is dramatic af), the crow will attempt to pamper him again.