#drifter x reader

[what-did-you-just-say]

Hello, can I get Shaxx, Cayde, Drifter, and maybe Crow with a reader who is really shy, and timid but if there tired or angry they just couldn't care less, they'll just pop people's heads off practically.

HELLOOOO! Hi, sorry I didn't react sooner but I saw your request and kinda forgot about writing it! I'm so sorry!

So here it is!! Well, I tried to be as close to the characters as possible without them being OOC. I hope you like it!

(I know they're a little short, I tried my best)

Lord Shaxx

- he'd be...surprised, honestly. Shaxx is the kind of man who encourages your might in the Crucible but he came to terms with your shy and timid nature.

- he finds it cute if we're being honest here, it just goes to show how well your characters go together.

‐ Shaxx is loud and not at all embarrassed by his words while you're a little off to the side and rather not interact with many people you don't know that well.

- So to see you in the Arena, feeling a little off with that tinge of tiredness, not wanting to actually do much except get the match over with, worried him a little.

- Well, that was until you got angry at some hunter taunting you across the map. He's been an irritating thorn in your side this whole time with his arrogant cockiness and that stupid shit eating grin you swore you saw through his helmet.

- Now, Shaxx being the man he is and encouraging your might in his matches, practically thrives off your newfound determination to bring the enemy team down.

‐ He gushes about it aswell, flexing that his S/O was crushing the enemy team and brought the win for their own.

- but he comforts you afterwards, truly. He'll be all over you with affection that same night and tell you how well you did and coo in your ear about your achievements and your victory over that damn hunter.

Cayde-6

- oh jeez...well, okay, Cayde isn't that bad but he'd also be a big encourager on his part.

- he loves the fact he can coddle you and tease you for your shyness and timid nature, finding it incredibly endearing when you blush and try to hide from him.

- he's your voice in moments it really counts in, speaking for you when something bothers you or whatnot.

- but when he (surprisingly enough) managed to get out of the tower and "aid" you on patrol on Mars, he really didn't expect you to start popping Cabal heads with little to no care!

- all because they scratched your armour too! You've been feeling tired already, not wanting to go on patrol in the first place but being tasked by Commander Zavala himself to simply take a look around the perimeter.

- now your new armour has been scratched, you were already tired and these Cabal weren't letting up either!

- Cayde just simply stood off to the side and gawked at you like you were a completely different person!

- his sweet and cute S/O, as shy and timid as they are most of the time, is casually killing Cabal with headshots left and right like they were nothing!

- (he was a little turned on, let's be fair)

- to say everybody in the Tower knew of your little outburst would be an understatement, that loveable Exo of yours could not keep his damn mouth shut.

Drifter

- he might be the damn reason you're so nagged in the first place, honestly.

- so we all know Drifter and how he is, always that bravado he puts on for a rogue lightbearer. He's got an image to uphold.

- so this man would also be an absolute tease, cracking jokes and cooing right in your ear on a private comms channel just to see you get flustered and all.

- but he knows when to stop aswell, don't get me wrong.

- that instance would be when you both were on a mission on Europa. He had perched himself onto a vantage point where he could observe and cover your back if needed.

- you two were just casually chatting around, talking about the most mundane things while you were walking the perimeter.

‐ until...you suddenly got ambushed. You were already tired and these Fallen constantly crawling out of their hiding spots and caves and whatnot just irritated you further. It was supposed to be a simple Intel mission.

- so Drifter, being the good boyfriend he is, covered your back and shot Eliksni after Eliksni while making sure you weren't too overwhelmed.

- yet he did feel baffled when you just popped their head like nothing, like they were flies.

- for him it felt like you and that person sporting your armour were two different people.

- don't get him wrong, he liked you this way. Unbothered and uncaring but it was a stark contrast to your usually sweet personality.

- he did tease you after everything had calmed down and you two managed to meet up but he did make sure to at least try and get you to calm down.

Crow

- oh my god– are you trying to give this man a heart attack?

- not only was he worried because you were already feeling tired, which made you so easily agitated, but you also had to go on a patrol WITHOUT him nearby.

- he knows of your act of....not being bothered with anything at all but he was still worried, he knows you can take care of yourself

- Crow loves your shy behaviour, it complimented his own well. Your timidness making his heart soften.

- he was...shocked? To say the least the first time he caught you in that state of "You breathe at all? Bullet to the head." and it did worry him a little.

- (even a little turned on, dare I say? He's a sucker okay for badass partners imo)

- he tries his best to calm you down if you reach that state of anger or try and convince Zavala to send someone else when you're feeling tired but got handed another mission.

- Crow just wants to care for you</3

(Hope you enjoyed reading it and send in requests if you want something specific! Have a great day/night!)

(Love, creator hihi)

[bonesxbows]

Hope Comes In Many Forms (Drifter x Reader)

My Masterlist

The past is being repeated, and the drifter isn't particularly happy about it. But nevertheless he's right there to help you through it, no matter what it takes.

(WARNINGS) - graphic descriptions of self harm - descriptions of in game violence - relapsing

when you run out of comforting drifter fics to read, you begin to write your own

Banners by @strangergraphics

You sit on the floor of the derelict, a hallway secluded from the main platform. The entire ship was eerily silent, no gambit matches were scheduled for anytime soon and the silence was comforting to you in a strange way. You hadn’t been there for long, maybe ten minutes max, before the owner had found you. The drifter appeared on his platform, taken shadows surrounding him as he transmitted in from the tower. You watched as he blinked a couple of times and then looked around, without moving from the spot he arrived in. 

“Alright hotshot, where are you hiding?” he calls out, like its a game of hide and seek. Although there is a slight note of annoyance in his tone, which makes your stomach churn. Your thoughts start spinning in your head like a merry-go-round, meaning that you don’t notice drifter walk over and kneel down in front of you. He takes in your appearance for a moment and then snaps his fingers in front of your face when he realizes that you're lost in your own head. You blink rapidly, trying to focus in on the reality around you. Your eyes bounce around for a while before focusing in on the drifter. He smiles softly, but the smile fades when your expression remains blank. 

“...you okay there, sunshine?” he asks, scanning your body again to make sure he didn't miss anything the first time around. He looks back up to meet your eyes again, but the beautiful orbs aren't there to meet his. Your head is lowered, staring at your own fingers, a mixture of embarrassment and fear swirling inside of you. In truth, you weren’t okay, but explaining why was the last thing you felt like doing right now. You instead just shrugged your shoulders, hoping he would take that as a valid response. 

To your dismay, the drifter wasn’t convinced in the first place, and your shrugging only confirmed what he believed to be true. 

-A year and some odd days ago; the end of a gambit match directly to the derelict-

You transmitted into the derelict’s main stage, landing on your knees and hands. Blood sputtered from the back of your throat and onto the metal floor, causing you to cough and choke. The drifter rushed forward from the derelict’s back room, carrying a slightly rusted ammo box. He slid on his knees to get closer to you, opening the ammo box almost simultaneously. Your arms soon began to shake, having difficulty holding up your weakened self plus all the weight of your weapons and armor. Thankfully the drifter saw this, and helped you lay down, gently guiding you to the cold metal beneath you. The sudden coldness helped soothe the aches in and on your back, and helped the oncoming concussion pain from having your head slammed into a tree from the primeval. Soon you were losing consciousness, and the last thing you heard was drifter furiously calling out to your ghost, arguing with him to help more. 

You woke up to a pounding that felt and sounded like a pissed off ogre was right outside the door, but opening your eyes revealed that you were still on the derelict, meaning that there was no ogre. You were, however, not where you remember arriving. Instead of the middle of the derelict’s stage, you found yourself in what you could only presume was drifter’s bed. You sat up, causing a splitting pain to cut through your spine and ribcage. You whimpered softly out of pain, not having any strength to fully scream, no matter how terrible the pain felt. You swallowed in a deep breath as best as you could, although you now figured out that breathing was going to be difficult with how bad your chest hurt. Looking down you found yourself in not the same attire you arrived in either, instead you now wore a jade green sweatshirt and black sweatpants, both which looked two sizes too big for you. You reached down to touch where the pain was still throbbing from, only to pull your hand back when you felt something that was not skin. The shirt hid a thick cotton wrapping of bandages around your chest and midsection, and although you couldn’t see it, the bandages hid three deep slash marks across your front and a bruise the color of a vandal’s cape adorning the length of your spine. 

You inhaled as much air as you could without causing any pain and pushed yourself off of the bed, almost falling back on to it in the process. You found your footing though, and stabilized yourself by holding onto the nearby nightstand. When you tried to walk forward, however, you were only able to manage a few steps before your legs turned to liquified Light and your face met the floor. You would’ve said a few not child friendly terms from the amount of pain the misstep had caused had the fall not knocked your breath right out of you. You pushed yourself up with your hands, sitting up off the floor. Drifter frantically appeared in the doorway seconds later, hearing your fall. His eyes searched for you on the bed, but soon found you where you were currently on the floor. The worried look faded from his face when he saw that you weren’t in any immediate danger. He walked over to you and knelt down, smirked a little.

“Now i know this isn't where i left you.” he said, the smirk practically running off of his face and flowing down each word he spoke. Before you could say anything he scoops you into his arms, making it look as easy as picking up an engram, as if you weren’t a war hero, and places you back onto the bed; being gentle to not touch your torso too much in the process. You stayed silent as he scanned you over, making sure you hadn’t made anymore damage from your trip to the floor. Once he was satisfied and was sure you were safe, he sighed and sat down next to you. 

“You mind telling me what happened, hotshot?” he asks you, his face going completely serious. Your eyebrows clash together, slightly confused by his question. 

“You were there, watching the match, you saw what happened.” you told him, completely confused by his question. He had been there, well, maybe not physically, but he still saw what had happened; the way the primeval threw you around like you were its play thing, somehow not wounding you enough to kill you and also damaging your ghost bad enough that he was incapable of healing you. Drifter looks into your eyes, the blue in his own flickering against the dim light.

“Thats not what im talkin about.” he says, staring at you. When he sees the confusion spread along your face even further he looks down at your arms, folded into your lap. You follow his gaze. The back of your mind knows exactly what he’s about to mention next, but you're too caught up in the moment, and pain, to really comprehend whats going on. His fingers feel like feathers against your skin as he lifts your arm, using his other hand to push the sleeve of the sweatshirt up to your elbow, exposing a mess of red, purple, and brown slash marks splattered against the skin of your forearm like a child’s art project. The air around you two fell completely still, as if neither one of you were breathing. Drifter still stared at you, refusing to look at what he had exposed. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure where to look. Your eyes flickered from the drifter, to your arm, to your other hand still in your lap, to the floor; the mixture of emotions flowing through your mind collided with each other, making it hard to decide what to do. Drifter decided to break the silence however, his patience wearing thin. 

“You going to answer me?” he asks. He’s still staring at you and he hasn’t moved at all, his fingers still holding onto your arm, still as light as a feather’s touch. You decide to look at him, albeit maybe just for a few seconds, but those few seconds are enough to make you want to burst into tears. He’s hurt, you can see it in his eyes, but he’s also upset. You look away as fast as you can, your vision becoming blurry and water logged. You sigh, trying to hold whatever pieces of yourself remain together. You look at the floor and try to give him an answer, although you already both know he knows the truth.

“The…..that’s not from today’s fight.” you managed to choke out, your words breaking like porcelain over rocks. He’s still staring at you, but you refuse to look at him. 

“Then who did this? Where did these scars come from?” he asks, even though deep down he already knows the answer. He glances at the mess of marks on your skin, wanting to make them just disappear, but soon he’s back to staring at you. A small sob escapes you and you finally break, shattering into a million pieces. 

“I did, okay? I did! Things get rough out there and i have to release stress somehow. I tell ghost not to heal them because i like them. I like the fact that a part of me is actually normal and that i bleed just like everyone else. No one was supposed to find out, especially not you.” you spurt out your words like a rambling child, yanking your arm from his grip and pulling them into your chest as you spoke, pulling the sleeve back down in the process. Tears now freely flow from your eyes and you try to muffle your cries with the overly long sleeves of the sweatshirt, keeping your inflicted arm as close to you as possible. Drifter listens to you speak, and then sighs, letting you calm down a bit before he does anything. You’re too lost in your own head to notice but he has pulled you into his arms, your face buried in his chest as he wraps you into an affirming hug, using his actions instead of his words to tell you everything he knows you want to hear. Once your sobs quiet down into small sniffles he starts to run his gloved fingers through your hair slowly. 

-Back to the present-

There was a small patch of silence as he stared at your sorrowful figure. You however still kept your gaze on your clutched fingers. He sighed at one point, although you truthfully weren’t paying attention, and he sat down in front of you. 

“Lemme see.” he asked firmly. He had already deduced what the situation was, although there was a sliver of hope left inside of you that hoped he was still clueless. 

“See what?” you replied, your voice coming out more roughly than you desired. You winced at the sound, still refusing to look anywhere but downwards. 

“You can deny it all you want, but we both know whats happenin here.” he said. He sounded concerned, and even maybe a bit upset, but he remained calm and spoke in a soft voice. “You did it again, didnt you?” he leaned forward. 

You sniffled as hot tears began to pour down your cheeks uncontrollably. His suspicion was confirmed when you began to nod slowly, your whole form now shaking. 

“You don't want to show me, do you?” 

You shook your head as best as you could, considering your whole body was already shaking violently. 

“Will you let Ghost heal them this time?”

Again, you shook your head. Your ghost materialized in quietly, hovering next to your head. Drifter glanced at him. 

“Please pumpkin?” drifter pleaded. He rarely ever did so, but you were forever the exception to any personality rule he had set forth for himself, including this one. You finally looked up at him, and he nearly broke down crying himself. If anything could break the drifter, it was the sight of you being hurt, wether that be mentally, physically, or self inflicted. You stared at each other for a while, waiting for one to break and give in, and fortunately it was you. 

You nodded slowly, turning to look at your ghost, who was also quite worried, as you pulled up the sleeve of your shirt, exposing the same forearm from the year before. Except this time there were less. There were still spots of brown, old scars that hadn't had the chance to fully heal just yet, but most of the marks from before were completely faded, not even noticeable unless you knew about them. There was, however, a small section that was once again a bright shade of red. Fresh marks that were bruised, the deeper cuts being a darker red than the rest, pink incompassing the surface around all of them. Drifter had to take a deep breath in steel himself when he saw. You glanced over at him at the same time he decided to look away form the scene. You looked up at your ghost, giving him a nod to start the process. Soon the bright reds, purples, and pinks were completely gone, not a single trace of them having ever been cut remained. Drifter looked back when the sounds from the light being used had stopped, sighing from relief. 

Your ghost decided to leave when he was done, letting you two have the moment for yourselves. You were scared to look at drifter and you remained still, not sure what move to make next. Thankfully though you didn't have to decide on what to do as drifter closed the space between you two, pulling you into a tight and comforting hug, pulling the sleeve down in the process. 

“Im not gonna ask why, or when, or anything like that. But just remember that i’m always here. Anytime, anywhere. You just call and im there. You can get through this. No matter how much time it takes. N’ i’ll be right there with ya every step of the way.” drifter told you, kissing the top of your head softly when he finished. You nuzzled your head into his chest as a thank you, and he again began to run his fingers through your hair slowly.

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Sooooo I may be a little in love with Drifter 🥺 because of that could we possibly get "your body was made for mine" or "i'll take good care of you, i promise." Whichever you think fits him more (or honestly any other of the prompts I'll take any of em!)

DEEJA!!! I'm just as excited by this ask as the day you submitted it, and I'm still just alandjsjamal over the fact that you asked for my boy Drifter!! I hope this feeds the brainrot <3

Favors and Promises

Summary: After returning from a long campaign, Drifter has only one thing on his mind.

Warnings: 18+ minors get away; f!reader x OC Captain Drifter, oral (f receiving), some slight angst, quiet yet intense feelings, I'm feral for this man & he's from my own brain

Word Count: 717

A/N: Three smut drabbles in one night! no idea where this all is coming from but I won't complain. if you'd like to learn more about Drifter, you can read here, here, and here!

Drifter stands at the edge of your bed, still in his full kit of armor. Only his helmet is removed, tucked under his forearm, propped on his hip. The scuffed forest green paint makes your heart squeeze for a moment, your perceptive eyes picking out all the new scratches and missing flakes of paint that catalog all the near misses he had on this latest deployment. At the very least, his face seems free of any new scars; his eyebrow piercing glints dully just the same. But the ache in your chest only soothes when he tilts his head, his dark gaze catching yours. His eyebrows lift in a silent question. 

“Missed you,” is all you say. It’s all you can say—there are not enough words to express how grateful you are that he’s returned to you. 

The ghost of a smile graces his features. He’s tired, that much you can tell; but there’s something else lingering in his glimmering amber eyes, something deeper, hungrier, that makes your blood thrill. 

“Drifter?” you say, voice hushed, barely audible over the rushing of the incessant Coruscanti skylane traffic. 

“Sarad,” he hums. “Can I ask a favor of you?” 

Pushing yourself away from the snuggly cocoon of pillows and blankets, you sit up a little straighter. The low rumble of his voice washes over your skin with a shiver. You’re certain the goosebumps that erupt over your bare arms has nothing to do with the arousal pooling in your belly, and everything to do with the chill of the conditioned air. 

“Of course, love.” You offer a smile. 

He appraises you for a moment in silence. The longer he remains still, the shallower your breathing becomes. His gaze trails down your form, lingering on your bare shoulder where your shirt has slipped down and on your parted thighs where you sit cross-legged. You watch the subtle way he shifts his stance that can only mean one thing—and sure enough, his codpiece doesn’t quite lay flush as it should. 

“Let me make you cum on my tongue,” he finally says. “Please.” 

Your lips part in a gasp of “oh,” and then you nod frantically, shoving the sheets out of the way. Drifter doesn’t even bother to remove any of his armor, just sets his helmet on the ground with a soft thud before crawling over the bed to you. His lips find yours in a heated kiss, his beard scratching your face in a familiar, soothing burn. You moan into his mouth. 

“Missed you,” you repeat, words muffled against his lips, “so much.” 

“Me too,” he says. He nudges your face to the side with his nose, then presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your cheek to your neck. When he laves over the one spot he knows drives you crazy, you arch into him, your hands finally flying to find purchase. One hand buries into his soft curls; the other hastily shoves your sleep shorts down over the swell of your ass. 

Drifter nibbles at the juncture of your neck and shoulder as one of his gloved hands trails between your thighs and draws a feather-light trail up your folds. Whimpering, you drag his face back to yours to devour him, teeth clacking together and tongues sliding over one another. 

He pushes you firmly onto your back, then pulls away. His eyes are wild with lust; without breaking eye contact, he shuffles down the bed and slings your legs over his pauldrons. The cold plastoid armor makes you hiss, but the discomfort is very quickly forgotten as soon as his hot mouth seals over your pussy and moans. 

Fingers tangling in his hair, you catch your bottom lip between your teeth as his tongue darts out to draw light circles around your clit. You dig your heels into his armor, pushing him down into the bed and closer to you.

“D-Drift,” you mumble. 

He licks a stripe up your cunt with the flat of his tongue. Already his face bears signs of your arousal, the dark hairs along his upper lip and chin shiny with slick. You whine when he pulls away. 

“Shh, shh, mesh’la,” he croons. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” 

He’s never broken a promise to you before, and he certainly doesn’t intend to start tonight.

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @lem-hhn @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @originalcollectionartistry

[monarisse]

— The Hex paradox [arthur nightingale x gn!drifter]

Arthur asks, why are you still here.

You can't believe that he thinks you see them as pets.

SFW, second pov, hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, angst with a happy ending | 3.6k

ao3

There is a flex of a hand — meat under the skin is terribly tense, just like their owner. Long unclipped nails, map of the old scars with pigment just a little bit lighter than everything else. Further: burn, raw marks from laser. Further: a contaminated virus from the elder beast of Deimos. Further-

This is just a body that holds your consciousness when there are no more metallic constructs of dead people that should be controlled. It was... actually, not so horrible to unfold the truth behind the creations of Ballas. Or others. There was always something more than you in these turned-to-be-bones metallic wires and engines. Always lurking in shadow; just not enough to be found, but enough to feel the sudden twitch of a cobalt fingers or unknown step of feet. Sometimes, even more: dance with a weapon, full of joy; murmur in an unknown language; search for something behind the back. Unnecessary. Unasked. Unprovoked. But... familiar, almost to the pain in your drifting mind.

It's ironic — that they all called you The Drifter. Not The Operator — not anymore, at least. Even if there was someone, in this time of the universe, who would gladly use this title on you, it would not be the truth. And you will not allow it. Hundreds of years after all of this, there would be a child with angry eyes and a thirst for power, who changed too much and too little to be completely you again. So you give them the future and keep yourself in the past — it seems right. Especially because (it's ill-fitting, it's wrong, and it's foolish, but deep down it's what makes them and you one person), The Operator can't travel here. They ask in rare times together how it was.

And for you, it's never "was." It's still here.

———

After winter, spring and summer together, they became steadier, softer. Smoother. Happier. Amir sleeps better. Angered only by some unnecessary presence before, now Quincy finds serenity, covering your back on missions. Aoi plays on the borrowed piano from the music store, and Eleanor whispers in your mind stories that she read in the past about Great Britain. Sharpened on the edges Lettie, today holds her hand to yours, so her beasts could crawl on the skin of this body with hushed squeaks, smelling with their little noses acid and kerosene, that scaldra pours on you every day. Lettie clicks her tongue in disappointment when she sees a new wound on the meat of shoulder — because in this body you can't heal as fast as they, and it's hypocritical to come out of frame when they're — the Mighty Hex, batch of soldiers of the future, your Friends, in the end — still here. And-

It's so. Fucking. Funny. A snicker falls from your lips before you can stop it.

Lettie furrows her eyebrows. In her eyes — something eats the previous light joke and fills it with thick tension.

"What did he do?" Anita squeaks, runs to her siblings, and you just blink.

"Who?"

Oh, it's not a secret. You... can guess who she talks about. And Lettie knows it.

"¡Pendejo! You know who. Don't play an owl with me."

Sharp teeth of the future crash into each other. Smile on these lips — sugary sweet from lies. This is not something new. How many people "The Great Hero" of the New War has deceived around the years of the Narmer regime?

"Nothing. Why you-"

She smacks your arm.

"Shut up. Don't want to hear your explanations. His brooding takes its toll on you," she painstakingly cleans her fingers from void-touched blood. From all of them, Eleanor is one who can feel lies, but Leticia is... another deal. She doesn't have the need to hear your thoughts. Magic of doctors, you guess.

It's strange that she cares about you. After all, these six are a team. And the seventh angle doesn't belong in the hexagon, even if it forces itself inside.

But, for Lettie, you let it slide. Hold her palm in yours and blink a little bit slower.

"I take care of that. Promise"

———

You know it — even too much of something good can be poisonous. Like trivia: this body was not ready for the delicious food that they have here, so on one night with beer and Hex you threw up in the bathroom on the second floor. But... Compare this and... your genuine worry for Nightingale seems like a wrong play of komi, where no one could win.

Worse: you remember Umbra. His blind eye and this wordless trust between him and The Operator. This wordless care that travels with them everywhere. How could you not feel envy when this child not only found the way from Zariman 10-0, but even saved the frame that could think without Tenno? Well, now you have protoframes. They joke with you in their bones, and they help you when it becomes unbearable — this world, this time, this loop. So why, when you stretch out your hand only how you can, it turns out... It is too much. Or too little.

And... what even happens in this thick skull of his, when he abruptly leaves a conversation on KIM, then agrees on Amir's play and, after... drowns you in questions?

Broadsword

So what is it? Pity? Or are you stupid as well as crazy?

Broadsword

Stop dodging! Why. Are. You. Still. Here?!

There is a reminiscence of a dull ache from Duviri. Another swing of an axe above the head. Endless swirl of colors. And buzzing in the skull. This body trembles, unable to comprehend all emotions from a feverish mind, and you pull your hand to clean your face from... something. Anything.

How could he even ask this shit? Like you some bystander that already left them after a week of knowing, just to start a new adventure far far away. Like you didn't search abandoned markets for his favorite beer, didn't bring special ammunition to Quincy, didn't practice with Aoi and Amir on the transmission of intel. Just some guest, not important to add in their ranks.

Nidus quietly shrieks when you transfer back to him. It is something of a habit. You can't even feel the exact moment when his broad frame already exits the backroom, too busy with boiling emotions inside your mind (the biggest question there: what if Kid would be able to help them without this mess of emotions. What if Hex liked the Operator more?).

Höllvania Central Mall never sleeps. Especially now, when there are not seven, but many more breathing shadows waiting for the other day to live, so... It is a little bit of awakening — see disbelief and caution in the eyes of bystanders when the form of Nidus makes his way from the second floor to the first in one jump. But still not enough to stop the heavy steps of the infested frame.

He's in his usual spot, crouched between some ammo for his rifle and computer, and Arthur... seems a little bit surprised. Like it wasn't you who he wrote just seconds ago.

Pity. He called your carefully crafted relationships with the Hex "pity." And you, yourself: crazy and stupid.

"You could just-" There is something more behind his dazed expression, some dark undertone, but it is not about him. Not anymore.

"How could you," Nidus freezes like a mannequin in the doorframe. This body constructs itself right against Nightingale; scarred fingers cling to his shoulder to feel something else beside the usual eerie words of KIM-messages and hushed phrases under the sick sky. His brows rise up even more now, "How could you even think of something like that!"

Arthur's lips twitch.

Prince of fire Lodun, in all his ugly glory, paints your mind with blood and red.

"It's bothering me already enough time to just let it slide," his words twist something in the pit of your stomach, and Lodun's voice screeches somewhere around the frontal lobe. He shouldn't say such words to you. It is blasphemy. Lie. His hand rips your own from himself almost like you hurt him, and the scar around the palm that he left you with starts to pulsate, "You walk around the Mall like everything is okay and we're not just some dead meat to your future."

He is poisonous. Some sort of divine punishment for you, as if you didn't suffer enough for years and years of survival. There are no more light jokes, no more strange, vigorous words with the undertone of something bigger. Only a stern glance on this body.

Prince Lodun fist his finger and crack another hole in your mind walls.

Body of the Drifter winces.

"Are you fucking kidding?" teeth clacks. The jaw's strained to its limit. All of this time together, just drained in the sink, "What do you think? That I stayed here just to forget about you all in the next minute?"

He doesn't need to say it aloud. The answer is written on his face already, and it's making Lodun more loud in your mind.

"How many times have you already done that?"

Lodun roars. This head is pounding.

"What?!"

It's unbelievable. He looks at you with such a sardonic expression, as if he knows that you did something so bad that you even can't stand with him in one room, and... you want to go right in his head to fucking show Arthur how terribly wrong he is.

The worst of all: he keeps going.

"It's convenient, isn't it? To play "friends" with people you can just leave behind," his grip tightens, and Arthur steps forward. A little more and it would become a fight.

You hold back. Just a little bit, but the patience in this body already wears itself.

"So that's what's stuck in your head?" You snarl, "Not bad enough, don't you think?" One step to him, and you feel — one more, and you can crash in his metallic chest. Eyes squint, "Make me a villain more, why not? Maybe I should take control of one of you and dispose of everyone else, huh?" Luscinia weeps in the corner of your mind with these harsh words, but you are unable to hear her — spiral of Loduns anger in its all-power captured you. There is something of a hurt in Arthur's face. But you only use his own method on him. It's almost like he didn't think of this — that you could use his friends against him or even make him a bystander in the nonexistent massacre.

"You can," his voice drops lower. Grip tightens even more — soon bones in this body would be broken by his fingers. "So I advise you to stop pretending like we're important to you," Nightingale bends his head, and you can see the hues of his blind eye for the first time, "and put us all out of this misery."

You're tugging this hand away — alas, it's not working, and a wave of dull pain passes through the body. He never thought that it was as hard for you as for them.

Luscinia crying. The Sorrowful Soprano of Duviri weeping like a mother who lost something too precious for her, and with Loduns anger, it's too much to feel in one moment. Your mind makes itself the battleground of the old Tales.

You want to say: maybe you're right.

You want to say: maybe I should just leave things like they are.

But... the Hex already made themselves important for you. So much that you gladly would stay here forever, with this ancient technology and people of the past. The Operator has their people. Why shouldn't you have yours?

You take a deep breath. Close tired eyes.

"If you think that I should go, I'll do it." There is something too heavy in these words, so you can't raise this head anymore, with your gaze a little bit blurry. Not from tears, "You all became too important for me, so if it would be better for Hex, I'll be gone to my time."

You know: without you, they will all be dead in the New Year of 1999. The reactor will blow up, and Arthur will bleed on the floor of the radiated room, near the bodies of Aoi and Amir.

And you can just feel the power of Spiral, to send it all back in January, to start again.

"Don't make yourself a martyr. You can leave when you want."

That's it.

You snap.

"My fucking Sol," you twitch this head, "you are as dense as Razorback," Nightingale becomes a little bit puzzled by the unknown comparison, but you continue, "What should I say? "Sorry, Arthur, I stayed here because I know that without me you all will die." Your voice becomes louder and louder; it breaks in some words, and you feel: the dam was broken, "And I developed feelings for you, and all of this embarrassing flirting was so bad because I had never done it before? You know, because I was trapped all of my youth in an endless loop of my own death, and I didn't even think that I could feel something like that"," his grip finally becomes loose, and you break the palm from him, only to point the finger at Arthur, "Everyone knows about it. I thought that you-"

Wait. You thought that he already knew about your feelings for him — it was so obvious that Eleanor even asked you not to think about her brother on united missions. But... You shut this mouth and looked at Arthur. He's... flagger-basted. No more anger in his eyes, only genuine surprise, and — worst of all — he continues to keep silent.

"Great," you roll this eyes. Fuck it. Maybe he knew, just feelings weren't mutual, and Nightingale didn't acknowledge it, to leave things as they were. But now you spelled it all aloud, and there is only one way to turn it back. Maybe... no. You don't want it.

Sol, you should just go to the backroom and decay in some corner.

You take a deep breath.

"I'll be going to throw up somewhere on the second floor from embarrassment," you transfer back to Nidus, "don't message me," and head towards the escalator.

Worst: he didn't even stop you.

———

Quincy screams in your comm and it's almost unbearable how he just throws a stash of Scaldra supply on the garage floor, just to head back to civilians in the old supermarket without another word to you.

Blew up the tank without care of flying too far away to not be hurt; melted one of the other stashes; almost got Kalymos dead. You've gone more hectic. But it's still better than lying on a couch with nausea and a sorrowful expression (it's still better than nothing — you remind yourself — you still feel something, and it's better than apathy).

Funny: if the Kid could see you, they would be furious. Throwing some tantrum about how such a mindless thing would wreck you, The Drifter, to some pathetic ordinary human. They were always like this: more hard than you, more prideful. They could chew Arthur's words and twist them so much that the man would not be sure what he even wants anymore. But the Operator is too far away. And you are too arrogant to travel back to them. Lotus would calm you down, embrace you in a motherly hold; however... you don't want it right now. One thing that surely helps: killing. Scaldra or Techrot — doesn't matter.

"I'm worried about you," tells Aoi when the sharp talons of Garuda give her a package full of CDs, "I heard your argument with Arthur." She seems a little bit sheepish, but... you know, that you actually can trust her. Of all Hex, Aoi is the most understandable. You can tell her all your worries, and she wouldn't laugh or write off your feelings. "It's hard with him sometimes, but Arthur cares about us all," of course he is, "you included."

You hum. The sound comes a little bit muffled.

"I'm sure." No, you're not, but there is no need to talk about it right now. Aoi squints her eyes in disbelief. "Sorry, Aoi. It's between me and him and i-"

"Drifter," his voice is too loud in Aoi's lair, but you don't turn to Nightingale. Maybe he will disappear if you don't acknowledge his presence. "We need to talk," Morohoshi shows some kind of gesture that you don't recognize, with her big finger pointed out, and she shakes her head, smiling.

If there were only two of you, you'd find a reason to just vanish in the air.

Damn. Why is it harder than killing an archon with a bow?

"Alright," you sign. Garuda turns around to Excalibur and he is already heading somewhere in an unknown destination.

What does he want to say? That he made a decision to stay with you on friendly terms so that you could save Hex's lives? That he'll save them by himself? Good luck with that. You'll still be here, even if he wants to banish you from others, just not in his line of sight. And when clocks turn 23:56 without catastrophe, you'll let them go and transfer yourself back to Loid, to solve problems of Deimos.

It's some sort of warehouse — you've never been here before, and it's strange how music from the hall becomes only disoriented muffles when Arthur closes the door. You stand a little bit farther from him than usual — not to make yourself comfortable here.

Arthur leans on some kind of cabinet.

Heavy silence falls on you two.

And when you think that this was a bad idea — to come here with him — Arthur starts talking.

"You know that all my life I was a military man," he spins that damn sword — Arthur's voice... not so loud. He speaks almost carefully, like his words already were chosen before this talk, and... you don't know what to think about. Emotion without name, without personification in Tales of Duviri, born in a pit of stomach, "and... I think I was ready to leave some things behind," he's not looking at you; his gaze stops on scratches on the floor, "because there was not enough time, or... I didn't try to understand others more."

You gulp. Garuda's scales tremble.

"And I tend to search for enemies where there aren't any." Finally, Arthur looks at you. There is more than tiredness from endless nights; quiet longing, a hint of uncertainty, something... tender.

He sighs.

"And," Arthur chuckles, and you grit your own teeth, thrashing about to step from Garuda or stay in her bones, "I'm not even entirely human. I mean, look at me," he gestures at the metal skin of his body, "not a usual choice of the mass."

Still, it's better to talk face to face. Especially on topics like that, you make a decision in one moment, to reappear beside him in another.

"Arthur," your own voice strained with hoarse hesitation, "you're a good person. You shouldn't talk about yourself like that." There is a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips, and Arthur blinks a little bit slower.

"You're always saying such things that give me hope." Spinning of his blade comes to an end, and the warehouse becomes more... steady. Peaceful.

Nightingale clears his throat.

"Did you mean it?" comes almost in a whisper, "that you have... feelings. For me."

You tear your gaze from him and put it down, not able to look in his eyes. Yes. It is definitely harder than killing an archon.

Fingers dip in the elbows.

"Yes."

Nothing more. Just a short, clear answer to put any misunderstanding behind.

Remarkably, the stomach stops swirling. All of this body became... calm, like all the worries just disappeared with this one word. Even if Arthur doesn't feel the same, you are glad that you two talked about it. Finally, you can open a new page in-

"It's mutual."

What?

You snap this head to him, and, for the first time in an eternity, you see Arthur smiling. Without some undertone in it, without pressure. Just a clear, happy smile on his scarred face, and you even see some little dimples on his cheeks.

And, maybe it's too early and you should wait some time to do such things, but these hands — your hands — reach out to him, to bury your fingers in his hair and press an uncertain but full-of-burning-emotions kiss to his lips.

It's raw — skin to skin, first too gentle to feel something more than the texture of others, but with every passing moment, all of this bottling adoration for him seeps through the motion. And Arthur answers you, laying his metallic palm in the crook of your neck, to deepen the kiss — he opens his mouth, presses you to himself more, to finally give you something that you wanted too long to confess.

In reality, it's still better than in imagination.

When there is not enough air in your lungs, when your shuddered inhale mixes with his own and both of you break away for a moment, you press your forehead to Arthur's, holding onto his shoulder.

"You know," he starts after a moment of silence, with a voice a little bit rough on the edges. You open your eyes and move your head a little bit to look at him once more. Cold fingers start to play with the strands of your hair. "If someone had told me that I would want to kiss someone from the future who trespassed my mind, I think I would kill them," Arthur breathlessly laughing and-

"Sol, you're unbelievable." You smack his shoulder and move to get out from his grip, but Nightingale presses you even more into himself, and you feel how his laughter starts to seep through your bones.

"You're stuck with me now. No refunds, sweets." Arthur pressed a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, and... you hug him, closing your eyes back.

The Harbinger of Joy, Mathilda, smiles for the first time in what feels like eternity.

[demondwellersword]

note: omg it’s been a whole year since i posted….last year was absolutely awful but this year i’m really going to try to post more this year. anyway, enjoy!

are you sure?

you find yourself asking this question often—nearly every time you look at ARTHUR. when you first met he seemed almost impossible to read, trapped behind a thick wall of stoicism and commitment to duty. however the closer you two became, the more he began to soften. gone were the deep lines etched into his face or the harshness in his gaze, replaced instead with gentle half-smiles and loving glances. yet there’s a feeling that dwells in the back of your mind, hovering at the edge of every thought you have about him. why me? sure, you were the one who had approached him with your feelings first, but you hadn’t done it with the intention of this outcome, not really. in truth you just wanted to stop thinking about him the way you did. all it took was him mentioning that you seemed distracted on a mission once to send you into a spiral, ending with you determined to finally get him out of your head.

instead he’d ended up in your bed.

now, after all the time you’d spent together, you were still led back to that one question—are you sure? you were far from perfect and a lot more complicated than you’d ever admit, but he’d assured you none of that mattered. what was it that you were so worried about then? maybe it was the idea of losing him for good, or the thought that somehow it would be your fault if you did. but you had to believe him when he said he wasn’t going anywhere, and you had to trust that he would do everything he could to make the life you’d envisioned for yourselves come true. and most importantly of all? you had to believe him when he said that he was always sure.

[softwordshavensfw]

I’m Ready

“You like that? You like it when I make you feel this way?” You teasingly asked. He nodded and let out a moan in response. “Mmmm… Yeah, I do…” He trailed off, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You softly took his chin and forced him to look at you,

your hips now rolling a little quicker. “Mh-m, eyes on me, okay?” You gently commanded and like the good dog he was, he obeyed. He made a low, pitiful whining sound and nodded, indolently returning his gaze on you. “That's a good boy, Amir. Are you a good boy for me?”

Like what you read? Read the whole thing here!

[syndicate-of-swing]

How the Drifters would hug you and/or cuddle with you

VENTURA CITY DRIFTERS (Alina, Emily, Sahara, Violet, Rose) X READER

VCD, and this art, was created by sonokido. Go read it at once.

A/N: I wrote this while playing a Cold War submarine simulator.

Alina Scratch

LOVES to be the little spoon.

Feeling your arms wrapped around her soothes all her worries about not meeting her team's expectations.

It's like the world just melts away for her when you hold her like that.

Plus, she ain't that tall, so she fits perfectly into you.

If she's feeling particularly down (i.e. if the Drifters lost a game), she'll lay her head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat.

She falls asleep almost immediately.

Emily Lang

Your head.

Her lap.

NOW.

Picks you up and sets you down on her couch, setting your head on her thighs.

Will run her fingers through your hair while the two of you watch whatever action movie's just been thrown onto Netflix.

In bed, she is always the big spoon.

She wraps her strong arms around you and she does not let go.

Oh, you need to get up and go to work?

Nope. Call in sick.

Sahara Taylor

Back hugs.

LOTS of back hugs.

She adores scooting up behind you, wrapping her arms around you, and resting her head on your shoulder.

Snuggling with her isn't really a matter of who's what spoon.

You two will be facing each other, limbs tangled around each other, bodies pressed against each other.

Due to her injury and the exhaustion it causes her, she doesn't stay up long when you cuddle, usually just conking out a few minutes into your snuggle session.

Violet Naire

Always wants to make you feel safe.

Big spoon, your head on her chest, doesn't matter.

As long as you're secure in her arms, she's content.

Knowing that you feel safe with her makes her really happy.

If she's having a rough day, she'll just walk up to you and hug you.

Neither of you talk, you just stay like that for a while.

Eventually, she'll let go with a muttered "thank you" before going about whatever she was previously doing.

If she's feeling more vulnerable, she might let out a little "I love you" before she lets go.

Please hug her, she needs it. :(

Rose Naire

She is always clinging onto you in some way.

Sitting down and doing homework? She is now sitting in your lap and being extraordinarily distracting.

Trying to lay down? Congratulations, you now have a very hyperactive weighted blanket.

Speaking of which, you will need to buy an actual weighted blanket just to keep her still when you two cuddle.

And when you do, she is a great cuddler.

The positive affirmations will not stop at any point, of course. She loves you too much not to constantly tell you so.

[axolotlwrites]

Black Lipstick, Red Tongue

NSFW! Male Drifter Reader X Eleanor Nightingale

The Drifter and Eleanor get a little handsy in the internet café, despite the lack of privacy...

CW: Oral sex, reader has a penis, is given head, slight exhibitionism (they aren't caught, however), slight psychic mind-fuckery, Eleanor's weird tongue is involved (duh), not beta read, formatted for mobile

Also, a good ninety percent of this was written before 1999 actually came out, so some of it isn't entirely accurate. For the most part, there's no major deviations. (I think.)

Enjoy.

Words: 922

Eleanor’s hands pressed flat against your chest, pushing you into the chair of the internet cafe desk. You were worried. This was stupid, incredibly so. Sound would reverberate in an empty mall like this, and it wasn’t as if you two were totally alone. “Are you sure about this? The others-” Her hand pressed against your cheek, interrupting you as she spoke (or rather, thought) softly. “Won’t hear us. I promise.” A shivering breath escapes your mouth, as you speak again. “Arthur’ll fucking kill me if he finds out.” Eleanor giggles at that, before smiling, another thought ripping into your brain, like a tailor’s knife through fine silk. “Then stay quiet, and he won’t.”

Your hands drift down to the buckle of your pants. When you got here, you quickly traded voidshell compounds and weaves for simple denim and fabric. It was lighter, it fit in better… and it was comfier. She stared up into your eyes, the mischievous glint in her eye as prominent as always. “Are you sure you-” She rolled her eyes, pushing your hands away as she unbuckled them for you. “You can pay me back later, but right now…” Her hand gently tugged at your pants, your hips lifting off instinct as she tugged them off. “Right now is about you.”

Gloved fingers reached out to prod gently, a gloved palm following close after to rub against the straining of your pants. “F-fuck.” You whimpered it out, softly, terrified of who might hear. God forbid Arthur hears you… or Quincy… or Lettie. You wouldn't hear the end of it, if you were still alive. She loved it, though. Loved the way she could make you shiver and whimper in the middle of the Hex’s safehouse with just a stray thought.

Of course, she knew the truth.

You loved it too.

She kneeled in front of you now, placing soft kisses on your stomach as she pulled up your shirt. She could see your scars, some evidence of your time spent in the Origin System, some fresh from your scraps in the streets and metros of Hollvania. Her other hand roamed the elastic waistband of your underwear, freshly scavenged from a ransacked supermarket.

As she started to peel your underwear down, trailing black lipstick kisses down your stomach, down to your crotch, you couldn't help but shiver.

She didn't pull them off entirely, leaving them halfway down your thighs in the case of an… unfortunate intrusion. Her breath traveled along the length of your cock, half-hard as her hands roamed along your inner thighs. “Relax, love. You don't want all that anxiety to affect your performance, after all…” She smiled, clearly teasing you, trying to rile you up as the blush crossed your face.

Some part of you was worried. You knew what appendage lingered in that mouth of hers, but ever since that kiss on New Year’s, you both had gotten a little braver.

This was the result of a massive amount of tension, a veritable dance of extended boundaries and worried glances.

You couldn’t prepare for how her mouth felt. As she took you into her maw, the tendril that resided behind her teeth wrapped around you, like a venus flytrap. Your back arched into the chair, a mild mixture of arousal and fear showing on your face as your hand flew up to your mouth. Again, she giggled, the vibrations around your cock a far more pleasant feeling than the tendril’s grasping and probing. Finally, you let out a real, tangible noise. “Damn. That is… a hell of a feeling.” Her hand roamed against the outside of your thigh, as she started to bob her head. “Do you want me to stop?” she whispered, your mind hazing as you felt her really dig around in your head.

You shook your head, your senses consumed by her psychic abilities. It felt like she was hugging your brain, caressing and kissing between the nooks of your mind.

It was far more pleasant than you thought it'd be, and the infested tongue in her mouth started to get a real hang on how it wanted you, finally starting to stroke and caress. It was wet and hot, black lipstick starting to smear along the length of your cock. Her hand grabbed yours, guiding it to her head and ponytail.

“Get a grip, love. You'll want it.” You nodded, as she began to move faster, enticing you to use that newfound grip she had given you.

You knew you weren't gonna last long. With a tongue that literally had a (hive)mind of its own, the very enthusiastic woman it was attached to, and the mind-fuck powers of said enthusiastic woman… you didn't stand a chance.

You bucked your hips up into her throat, moaning softly as you began to lose yourself in it. “Come on. Cum for me, Drifter. My Drifter.”

And just like that, you were gone, spilling your seed into her throat as you tried desperately to keep from moaning out in pleasure. The tongue in her mouth coiled around your cock, dragging out all of the semen it could manage, before she pulled away, its host finally satisfied.

“I'll leave you to clean up. But… I'll see you in the backroom tonight, love.” She laid a gentle kiss on your cheek, before walking off, hips swaying as the last of her psychic powers faded. It left a pleasant haze in your mind that you really couldn't shake, even if you'd wanted to.

What a woman.

[h4rl3quin]

I uh wrote some Amir smut...

[ashandshy]

Tumblr ate my last post

I guess when you mess with the 'for everyone' tab at the bottom it makes it practically invisible for people to discover. -shrug-

In any case, the rules: I don't condone anyone under 18 to read this. [Not that I can stop you.] A bit of a present for Amir Nation, another Gender Neutral fic.

[simping-overload]

I just read your O14 fic and thought it was adorable!

Could I please request some good old drifter X reader fluff? Especially if the reader is a hunter and taller then drifter? which isn't hard man's is tiny

Headcanons or fanfic I don't mind!

love this stinky sewer rat man🫶

characters: drifter

tags: fluff, tall! reader, hunter! reader, gn! reader

ヾthis is a multi fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem alligened, please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

You're legally required to stock the shelves and grab anything too high for him to reach.

He doesn't like the fact that he has to crane his neck to look up at you, though he's used to it with all the titans he's been around, but used to it from a hunter.

If you try to use his head as an arm rest, he will bite you.

Though he's not opposed to being carried. Whether it is a bridal carry, piggy back ride, or being held like a sack of potatoes, he's chillin

You're totally the designated big spoon. He likes the feeling of your larger body curled around his.

He steals borrows your clothes, esspically any shirts or hoodies

It's a common occurrence to see him lounging around the Derelict in your clothes.

He's a light bringer, meaning he's pretty strong. If he really needed to, he just yank you down by whatever he can grab to get his kisses in.

He also really likes forehead kisses.

[discodreaming]

HELLO! i've now opened my inbox for my followers/mutuals to talk to their favorite character!

you can send in random sentences, inbox prompts that you see on my blog or even confess your love!

please be sure to be respectful and kind to not only me but the muses.

this will be very much like roleplaying. to continue communication you can send in more inboxes or you can even link the inbox to a conversation to communicate with your beau/family/friend!

please do not request any minors/anthropomorphic in romantic or sexual ways, I'm begging you. i will only reply to the platonic/familial ones.

you may talk to at least 2 muses at once in one message, all to prevent being overwhelmed. this may change once i get comfortable enough to handle more.

all romantic and nsft inboxes or starters towards muses will require slow burn

all ships are multishipped but can be single shipped if you guys can build up their romance meter!

this will only be reader x character, oc x character i will put on either another blog or a different post.

* note: i will accept 5 oc x character in this post for the time being: 1/5

however for certain events i can bend these rules for you to get a romantic scene with your crushes!

or even just hanging out with your friends!

characters i will write for right now:

note: this list will change every now and then as i advance further into the shows or a character is requested more!

if you don't see a character you like here and would like to see me try my hand at playing them, don't be shy to tell me!

bold = characters I've played before

one piece! ( pre timeskip )

romantic options: nico robin, nami, sanji, zoro, usopp, buggy, sir crocodile, dracule mihawk, shanks, portgas d. ace

platonic options: chopper, franky ( may change ), luffy ( im currently on the pretimeskip )

up to debate: please ask !

rwby ! ( all season 9 ages )

romantic options: weiss schnee, blake belladonna, yang xiao long, jaune arc, taiyang xiao long, raven branwen, qrow branwen, emerald sustari, sun wukong, neptune vasillias, james ironwood, winter schnee, mercury black

platonic options: ruby rose, nora valkyrie, lie ren, pyrrha nikos, penny polendina, professor ozpin, oscar pine, neopolitan

up to debate: salem, cinder fall

fruits basket !

romantic options: shigure sohma, hatori soma, ayame soma

platonic options: tohru honda, yuki sohma, kyo sohma

castlevania animated !

romantic options: trevor belmont, adrian 'alucard' tepes, sypha belnades

edens zero !

romantic options: rebecca bluegarden, weisz steiner, homura kogetsu, kris rutherford, shiki granbell, labilla christy

platonic: happy, witch regret, sister ivry, hermit mio, valkyrie yuna, elise crimson, justice

d.gray man !

romantic options: yu kanda, lavi, tyki mikk, howard link, cross marian

platonic: allen walker, lenalee lee, nea d. campbell, wisely kamelot

psycho pass !

romantic options: akane tsuneori, shinya kogami, nobuchika ginoza, shuusei kagari, yayoi kunizuka, shion karanomori, shogo makishima

platonic: tomomoi masaoka

owari no seraph

romantic options: guren ichinose, ferid bathory, kureto hiiragi, shinya hiragi, seishiro hiiragi, crowley eusford

platonic: yuichiro hyakuya, mikaela hyakuya, shinoa hiiragi, yoichi saotome, shiho kimizuki, mitsuba sangu, krul tepes

yuukou no moriarty

romantic options: william james moriarty, albert james moriarty, louis james moiarty, sherlock holmes, fred porlock, sebastian moran, mycroft holmes, james bond

fate/ ( /zero & /stay night)

romantic options: saber, kirei kotomine, gilgamesh, cu chulainn

platonic: shirou emiya, rin tohsaka, waver velvet

up to debate: kiritsugu emiya, irisviel von einzbern, archer emiya, tokiomi tohsaka, diamuid ua duibhne

please don't: shinji matou, ryuunosuke uryu

fairy tail

romantic options: lucy heartfilia, gray fullbuster, erza scarlet, mirajane strauss, laxus dreyar, gildarts clive, loke, elfman strauss, juvia lockser, fried justine, evergreen, bickslow, rogue cheney, sting eucliffe, kagura mikazuchi, aguria yukino, natsu dragneel, mystogan, cana alberona, gajeel redfox, erik, jellal fernandes

platonic: wendy marvell

record of ragnarok

romantic options: adam, jack the ripper, kojiro sasaki, qin shi huang, hades, beelzebub, hermes

platonic: souji okita

up to debate: the valkyries, nikolas tepes, thor, poseidon, apollo,

obey me

romantic options: lucifer, mammon, levianthan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor,diavolo, barbatos, simeon, raphael, solomon,

platonic: luke

up to debate: thirteen, mephistopheles

kingdom hearts ( kingdom hearts iii )

romantic options: terra, aqua, xemnas, zexion, saix, axel, demyx,

platonic: sora, kairi, riku, roxas, namine, xion, ventus, vanitas, ephemer, skuld, brain

genshin impact

romantic options: wriothesley, albedo, alhaitham, ayaka, ayato, baizhu, ajax, cyno, dehya, diluc, eula, ganyu, itto, jean, kazuha, kokomi, xiao, heizou, shenhe, kaeya, rosaria, yae miko, beidou, lisa, kaveh, zhongli, nigguang, neuvillette, yela, candace, thoma, yanfei

platonic: hu tao, venti, faruzan, sucrose, chongyun, freminet, layla, mika, fischl, collei, noelle, yun jin, barbara, xingqiu, amber, bennette, xinyan

up to debate: keqing, lyney, aether, lumine, wanderer, lynette, kuki shinobu, sara, kiara, gorou, mona, nilou, yoimiya, charlotte

please don't: klee, sayu, qiqi, diona, dori, nahida, yaoyao

final fantasy

romantic options: cloud strife, tifa lockhart, aerith gainsborough, zack fair, reno, rude, genesis rhapsodos, reeve tuesti, angel hewley, sephiroth, vincent valentine.

platonic: barret wallace, yuffie kisaragi

detroit become human

romantic options: connor, markus, gavin

platonic: kara, hank

devil may cry

romantic options: dante, nero, vergil

platonic: trish, nico, lady, v

jojo's bizarre adventure

romantic options: dio brando, joseph joestar ( part 2 & 3 ), caesar anthonio zeppeli, jotaro kujo ( 4-6 only ), rohan kishibe, bruno bucciarati, leone abbachio, narciso anasui, johnny joestar, gyro zeppeli, diego brando

debating: jonathan joestar, jolyne cujoh, weather report

[l1nghuarchive]

— THE DRIFTER. (POSTPONED)

𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬. In which a girl with void like powers awakes from her domain and finds herself helping an old grumpy friend in stopping doomsday from an apocalypse... In her 16 year old body!?!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. Five Hargreeves x fem!reader

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬. ongoing, in the process

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. Slow burn, action, action, comedy

𝐜��𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 .ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ

i. We only see each other at weddings and funerals. (part 1) (part 2)

ii. Run Boy Run

iii. Extra Ordinary

iv. Man on the Moon

v. Number Five

vi. The Day That Wasn't

vii. The Day That Was

viii. I Heard A Rumor

ix. Changes

x. The White Violin

𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. 23rd March 2023

𝐀/𝐧. Hiyooo~☆!!! Welcome to my 2nd series fanfic which I hope i won't abandon :') updates will be slow but i rlly hope people will enjoy this fic ദ്ദി˶ｰ̀֊ｰ́ )

© astrididi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my work and / or headers for my fics! ♡

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN TRANSFERED TO @winterrn1ght

[xblackjokerx]

Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?

Drifter x f!OC (more infos on AO3)

Summary:

“I am done being a drifter, being remembered as the one that got away. I-, fuck, darlin’, I want to be remembered as the one that stayed. The one that stayed with you till my last dying breath – as the man that loved you, ‘spite the odds.“

Both of them got more names than they can count. Some of them were earned, others were chosen. Just another thing none of them could control. Both of them were pawns destined to become more as the web of light and dark untangled, so it makes sense that they gravitate towards each other, right?

Read here:

Little excerpt:

“Have you decided on a name, yet?”

He really hated that question. How could someone come up with a name when the only thing they can think of is the pain in one's own starving body? How was he supposed to focus on coming up with anything but “Shut up, you stupid demon!” when the only thing that got him going right now was the never-ending thirst burning in his dry throat? He loathed that question. There were more important things right now than coming up with a name no one will ever use. 

He was alone out here. No one would get to know him, hell, even remember him, if he continued to starve.

[softwordshavensfw]

Two Of Hearts

Part Two of I'm Ready

He watched you intently, transfixed. You opened your eyes and looked back at him after you could physically feel him staring. You started to blush and your eyes desperately searched the cubicle for some kind of distraction. 

          “What? What is it?” 

          He didn’t respond, just instead moved closer and took your cheeks in his hands very gently. He gazed into your eyes, planted a brief kiss on your lips, and moved his hands to your scalp. You were a little confused at first, but after feeling his fingers start to work at the roots of your hair, you could’ve turned into a puddle. You closed your eyes, leaned into him and released a relaxed sigh. You swear you could’ve either cried or fell asleep. You’ve never allowed yourself to be this vulnerable before, especially in front of another person; completely at ease and your brain finally falling truly silent. He could feel your posture soften at his touch. 

Want to continue? Find it here!

[syndicate-of-swing]

Do you have any Emily Lang relationship headcanons?

Oh, buddy, do I ever.

What a relationship with Emily Lang would be like:

VCD, this art, and Emily herself were all created by sonokido.

TW: none

(A/N: this is just as self-indulgent for me as it is for you, my friend)

The Beginning

First off, the start of your relationship... wasn't exactly a romantic affair.

One day whilst you were hanging out, she just blurted out, "Hey, wanna go out sometime?"

And so you did.

Your first date was just her dragging you along to one of the Drifters' games.

After her team (obviously) won, she'd take you out somewhere to eat in celebration.

Afterwards, she took you home and the two of you did the whole stand-outside-the-door-awkwardly thing, until she finally got up the courage to kiss you.

When the two of you separated, she picked you up (quite literally) and carried you inside, throwing you onto the couch and immediately jumping on top of you, kissing you again.

And again.

The Relationship

First of all, you're gonna be dragged to all of her games from now on.

She wants to impress you, of course, but she also just wants to know that you're there for her.

She is extraordinarily fond of PDA.

She does not care if you're having a conversation, she'll walk up behind you and go "'sup, dork?" while putting you in an affectionate headlock.

If you two are somewhere private, she'll just push you up against a locker and start kissing you.

She gets jealous very easily. If she sees another person making heart eyes at you, she'll hug you from behind and glare at them until they back away. This usually leads to cuddles.

Speaking of which, she is a very good cuddler. Feeling her wrap her arms around you when you both get home from school is an instant stress remover.

Dates for you two will usually consist of some form of physical activity, whether that be hiking, working out, or just strolling around town and talking.

Your first "I love you" is not gonna come easily. Emily isn't good with all this romance stuff, so she's awkward when it comes to the more intimate and mushy stuff.

You'll likely be the one who says it first.

The Drifters have just won a game, and she comes up to you, all excited.

Without thinking, you blurt out that you're proud of her, and you love her.

When she hears those three words, her brain short-circuits for a brief moment before a massive grin breaks onto her face, and she tackles you into a hug, blurting out that she loves you too.