#i hope you don't mind what i added -

[pokimoko]

Hello!! i just discovered your blog and firstly i wanna say that your art is gorgeous! <33 and secondly, if youre still taking requests could i get a lesbian/non binary cheetah? /nf

Thank you! Cheetahs be upon ye!

[heretodefyfate]

Can you draw Child Lin with one of the Reborn protags? I headcanon that they have a wholesome family relationship together. If you're strictly sticking to one then just Child Lin if you want to do so :)

"if i cry over a lemonade, you're not allowed to tell anyone, okay?"

[i3utterflyeffect]

have you ever seen the post about hoards creating dragons? that is, the physical accumulation of wealth causes a king or whatever to gradually transform (scaling with wealth) into a monstrous shape befitting their greed.

anyways, wouldn't it be fucked up if victim began to transform into a cursor as they collected more technology. horrifying agonizing shift into an alien geometry, ya know.

I HAVEN'T SEEN THAT. THAT'S SUCH A COOL IDEA THOUGH

and FUCK MAN.... shit..... blows the fuck up. i love horrifying agonizing shifts into Something That Is Not You

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

.shattered dream.

-buy the newest shampoo and make your hair wavier than our favorite dark angel's-

there's gotta be a secret to her looks! >:'Dc

shattered belongs to @galacii

dark cream/studio au belongs to @zu-is-here

fem!studio au designs are made by me

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Freaking HAUNTED by the scenario of Cassie falling for the Mimic's act in the elevator and she comes back from it so, so, SO freaking scared but also so so SO freaking biased and spiteful and ANGRY she tries getting back at Gregory in the way that would hurt him even more than just 'paying in the same coin', by taking away from him exactly what he loves the most by trying to get Freddy destroyed. 💀 (definitely not a route I think Cassie would truly dive into but boy ain't it an interesting one none the less! 👀)

It also doubles as a way to free Roxy and the others from Freddy as well!! Two birds one stone!!

However... I've never heard the saying 'paying in the same coin' so I'm not entirely sure what it means, but I can take a pretty good guess. Not to be contrarian but what makes you think destroying Freddy wouldn't be doing the same thing Gregory did? He destroyed Roxy, Chica and Monty, and it was his voice telling him to deactivate Roxy for good to come and save him. After shutting her down, and her coming back to throw herself at Mimic for Cassie, Gregory tried to make it all for nothing by dropping her.

All of Roxy's damage falls on his shoulders, both before and after Cassie came into the picture. He didn't even care, did he? And neither did Freddy so really, this is the best vengeance she can hope for. She deals with the animatronic that Roxy keeps saying she'll kill if she ever sees him again, and hits Gregory where it really fucking hurts. Two revenge plans one stone!

And you're so right, Cassie would probably not go down that road... But ya know she might at least be a little tempted given Roxy's aggression over it. She keeps giving her ideas damn it she doesn't want them!!! Roxy can take them and do whatever she wants with them, Cassie doesn't wanna do it!!! And it works out cause Roxy doesn't have the fucking balls to go all the way with a murder plan anyway so no one gets hurt!!!

I guess that's a lose lose scenario ngl though...

This reminds me of a scenario I had the idea for a little bit ago when we were last talking about this stuff! (That got a bit long here so I'll add a read more for convenience)

The idea is that Vanessa, Gregory and Freddy return as quick as they can to try and save Cassie and instead find Roxy, once again guarding the door, Mini swarm in the shadows around them. She's obviously more damaged than before so it's a bit more difficult, but she's doing her best not to fall off the barriers she's stood on over the door and I've just had the idea of Minis holding onto her in the dark like training wheels. Aside from them, she's completely alone.

Vanessa talking is a shock to her and she's beyond happy to hear she's okay and most importantly, was freed. Surprisingly touched by her running to help her too... Just fucking snaps at Gregory and Freddy to shut the fuck up whenever they say anything cause she doesn't give a flying shit what they have to say. Vanessa hurries though, asking how she got away from that thing down there and tells her that Gregory's friend Cassie was down there too, what happened??

Yeah uh. Roxy says nothing for a while and Gregory gets impatient and tries to run at the door. The Minis grab him and the swarm just kinda take him away, literally up the fucking wall and take some pictures with an old Fazcam so Roxy can see it later lmao she's actually devastated she can't see this happening right now. Anyway, Roxy's like "what do you THINK happened?" and since she won't say anything else, they naturally, assume the fucking worst. She doesn't correct them or say another word. Just tells Freddy and Gregory that they've done enough fucking damage and to get out before she throws them out...

Oh yeah Gregory is fucking pissed. Why didn't she save her?! Why is Roxy out here when Cassie isn't?! What kind of useless animatronic is she that she couldn't save one kid?! What, is she only good at killing kids?! Is that it?! He's so fucking mad and Roxy just lets him rant and rave, the Minis stopping him for her every time he makes a run at the door until Freddy takes him away. He says he's disappointed in her, but that he's not surprised and that makes her seethe but she doesn't say anything until she hears Vanessa leaving. She stops her and when they're alone, she tells Vanessa the truth.

Cassie is in bad shape. Mimic is dead and they barely made it out, but her dad took her to hospital a little before they got here. Vanessa - who was in tears already - is so fucking relieved, but then asks why Roxy didn't say anything earlier. She tells her the truth as she knows it. That Cassie was here trying to save him. That Mimic lured her here as him, and at the end, Gregory said he couldn't risk being followed, and dropped the fucking lift with Cassie in it.

Now that doesn't make sense to Vanessa. She may not have been there for that last bit but they didn't rush all the way over here for nothing. Roxy can't exactly answer why he'd want to come back here, but she reminds her what he and Freddy did to all of them and points out that this would hardly have been out of the ordinary for him.

And so, you now have a situation where Vanessa doesn't know what to believe. She knows Roxy wouldn't lie about something like that and even if she did, she's a fucking awful liar. But she's clearly angry enough to let him think Cassie is dead and not give a shit... And she says it's to make sure he doesn't try it again so she's also asking Vanessa not to say a word. She can't do that! She can't just let a kid think his friend is dead because of him! ... But she's right in thinking this may not be completely out of the ordinary for him... But he wouldn't do that to someone he would run to the rescue of, right?? Gregory wouldn't do that, she knows him well enough to know that now!!

You see what's happened here? Now Vanessa is in the middle. If she doesn't say a word, Gregory will forever think Cassie got killed trying to save him. If she tells him and it turns out Roxy is right, then what if he tries again?

I feel she'd tell him, but no matter what, Roxy just straight up telling the truth to Vanessa, his current guardian, and not to him would cause so much pain. He could have been there screaming at her and she didn't say a fucking word because in her mind, this is nothing compared to what he's put all of them and Cassie through. And what happens if she does die in hospital?? What then?? She can't lie and say she's fine when she's not anyway!! She doesn't know shit!!

But ya get me with this? It's emotional revenge enacted at the end of Roxy's very long day in the pizzeria graveyard. Minimal effort required, with Vanessa unfortunately in the middle, but Vanessa is always welcome here. Roxy won't blame her for whatever she chooses to do, because at the end of the day, Roxy's done her job. Whether Gregory or Freddy believes it or not, she did her job.

She's really fucking glad she couldn't see his reaction though, she wouldn't have been able to keep her mouth shut if she had. Like most of the others, she can't bare to see a kid in genuine pain and she knows damn well how much her silence caused...

But yeah, you just got me thinking about that again. It's a spur of the moment thing for Roxy, inspired partly by the fact she's not good with words and doesn't really know how to approach this anyway. It's been a long day and her lack of words just turned into this and she's not even a little bit sorry. I think Cassie would appreciate the sentiment of keeping her safe from a second attempt on her life. And feel a bit bad that she takes some satisfaction in hearing how devastated Gregory was over it...

The picture of him being held from his ankles on the ceiling by the Minis is pretty good revenge too. They're proud of that one lmao

[helloiamacashier]

It's a travesty that I can't reblog gifsets of books.

[archived-diegesis]

Feline eyes watched him, Thoma a man wanted by many once upon a time and still in a way wanted depending on who you asked. His actions and bravery causes many to seek his death and head on a plater, not many would willing defy and archon unless you were "father" and her co-workers.

Her ears move slowly as she listens intently on his breathing, the tone of voice he uses- the small movements hold nuances she didn't expect.

A fighter and adventure through and through, trusting but not naive. His stance was ready like he was used to moving and fighting on the run.

Well toned muscles catch her eyes, gloved hand a spear user ? Swords don't need badges unless you were using force in your swing or have an unorthodox fighting style.

" your gaze seemed intense, either you wished to ask for a cup but were to awkward about it or you were trying to understand how I made the cup appear"

If she has to guess it was the later but she was ment to be friendly to all customers and people that watched the show.

Once again she performed the same trick, this time slower a small part of her wanting to see if he could pick up what she did. Curiosity driving her- Just what would he see ?

@scarletooyoroi // conti.

[isekyaaa]

If you don't know me well and you've heard my opinions abt people talking shit, I probably seem like the person that enjoys talking shit about others. To which the truth of the matter is that I don't. Tbh, I feel I do something worse. When I talk about a person to someone else, I break them down from the bottom up by analyzing what makes them so irritating, but also what makes them so great, and I share that analysis with the person I'm talking to. It quickly escalates to bringing up a person's personal issues, traumas, insecurities, etc, and analyzing them under a lens.

[arolesbianism]

Alright boys pack it up no more rain world posting new oni dlc is coming out in less than a week

[theood]

1. what call to action is the author arguing for?

The author, whyamionlyabletouse32characters is arguing for the addition of short literary questions to the end of posts. This is seen by them adding a few question to the end of their post. They also show to have a perosnal liking towards this addition, adding a slight bias to their argument. "we should start putting those in posts. i miss them,,,,,,".

Because of this personal liking towards the literary questions, one may feel the need to say no, or to want to fight back. However, the author does not say we must add these back to posts, or insinuates that posters must. Only that, they, the author find these old question types fun and that it would be a fun addition to the posts made.

2. why does this work lack capitalization? what might this tell you about the author? what might this tell you about the context in which this work is meant to be read?

This work may lack capitalization as "informal" uses of grammer and proper sentence structure is ever popular on online spaces. Many individuals tend to adopt certain usages of typing (often called "typing quirks") when online. Theze quirks are not usually indicative of anything. However, some people state that reading proper grammer and sentences in online settings can worry them, or, feel too formal. This could by why the author typed this post and the questions without proper capitalization.

The lack of capitalization could mean the work is meant to be read as a silly "what-if" scenario, and shouldn't be taken as an immediate call to action. Also, with the lack of capitalization this work could be read akin to a friend offering up a silly idea that you're meant to want to talk about for a bit, and then drop it and move on. The author does a good job balancing both a feeling of informal and formal with the usage of no capitalization while also letting the reader truly think on the point it brought up. Which is starting to add back literary questions regarding the post.

3. is the addition of questions referential? does that make the post humorous? how so? how would the post be different without the addition of questions?

Yes, the addition of questions is referential. The author states these questions are like the ones found in short stories from literature textboxs. These being added to this post then callback to the question in those textboxs.

While one can argue the addition of these questions being added can be humorous, I don't think the author meant it to be read as such. The author seems to be bringing up a way to engage readers with the posts they're reading. Hence, the author adding these questions to their own post.

While this is a work of parody, and should be engaged with as such, I do not think the addition of the questions is to be laughed at. The questions directly provide the reader with a reason to look back to the text, and form an opinion or answer towards them. The author has opened up an incredible way to discuss the overall usage of something many readers of the post may not have seen in many years.

This post would read entirely differently without the questions being presented. If the author had merely said they just missed them, many average readers may have entirely skipped the post. Those who share similar opinions with the author, or those who enjoyed discussions in English classes may have been inclined to "reblog" the post, and add their own opinions or agreement with the author.

Because the author has added the questions, the post has now become a discussion piece. It engages the reader more because they may be inclined to repsond to the questions. Much like when the reader was in school, they may feel a desire or even need to do so.

Some readers however, may also completely ignore the author's intent. The questions to them may be a stupid addition, or they may react negatively towards the thought of needing to engage with the post in a complex way. To them, the post would be better without the questions, and without making them feel the need to suddenly have to engage with the various posts they see.

(vocab word: Referential - When something is referential, it means that is contains callbacks or allusions to something else.)

you know those little critical thinking questions that they had at the end of short stories in literature textbooks? we should start putting those in posts. i miss them,,,,,,

questions:

what call to action is the author arguing for?

why does this work lack capitalization? what might this tell you about the author? what might this tell you about the context this work is meant to be read in?

is the addition of the questions self referential? does that make this post humorous? how so? how would the post be different without the addition of the questions?

[pearlymel]

A dance— Capitano

Synopsis : your relationship with him grows, and he seems sweeter than ever.

Wc : 3.2k

Warnings : contains NSFW content, fem!reader, reader is mostly called 'wife', he's super sweet, soft sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink kinda, reader wears a dress and heels.

Notes : part 2 is heree! I highly recommend reading part 1 here. And part 3 is out here!

You've tried creating art, you've tried cooking (with the help of your personal maid, Marina), you've even tried planting.

Yeah, you're a plant mom now. Not only that, you're a cat mom too. Saving the poor kitty from the harsh rain one day, you couldn't leave the poor little one outside. It's mother seeming to abandon it.

All because you have become extremely bored on the days where Capitano wouldn't be here, and he forbade you to even clean your shared bedroom because he thinks it's useless when there are servants present to do the job. (He doesn't want to tire you out.)

Come to think of it, the last time you saw him, he kept avoiding you. Whenever you tried striking a conversation during dinner, he would only hum and nod. Or when you suggested to have another picnic, he flatly refused, and it felt like the hardest rejection to your face.

It's like he had his own mood swings that you had to deal with. One day he would indulge you in the activities you wanted to do, then the next he would refuse.

Like last week.

“I used to do this when i was young.” You tell him with the softest smile to yourself, your fingers working carefully with the flower petals and strings. You were determined to make this flower crown, and you were taking your sweet time just to have him by your side.

Capitano silently listened to your words, his gaze fixed on your gentle movements as you delicately fashioned a flower crown. The air between you was calm, "You have a talent for making flower crowns," he eventually responded, his deep voice breaking the tranquil silence.

"Did you learn it from someone?”

“No… just by myself.” He couldn't help but be impressed by your innate ability to create such an intricate accessory without any formal instruction. "Self-taught." He mused, "You have an unusual aptitude for discovering things on your own.”

You hum back while adding the finishing touches, and he watched your proud display of the finished flower crown.

“this is for kitty!” You smile at the thought of the little one purring with a pretty crown on it's head.

Kitty? Capitano is confused once you start talking about the cat, you seem even more excited when you described how you cuddled with it.

"You just happened to come across this crying feline in the rain, and you brought it home with you?”

“yes! Ah, well… i hope you don't mind.”

“i don't.”

And that was the last of your conversation, and it's been a week since you last saw him.

“my lady,” You recognise the voice of Marina as she knocks on the door, and you grant her the permission of her entry.

You set the sleeping kitten on the fluffed up pillow to reach for the letter she hands you.

An invitation to the grand ball… you read the contents of it, scanning every word as you pull the paper down.

“like a party?” you ask, glancing up at her, "Yes, that is correct. A grand ball is taking place tonight. It's a gathering of the higher-ranking Fatui members and a few... select guests.” she trails off, unsure of what else to add on.

“I can see that this invitation is for Capitano, not to me.”

“lord Capitano doesn't normally attend these grand balls. So my lady, you will have to go instead.” Marina explains this and you feel like you're going to have a headache.

All you wanted to do today was sleep in with the kitten. Not to trouble yourself in some party.

But… if it's for the sake of your husband's reputation, then you are willing to do it.

You hope you don't pass away too quick from your social anxiety.

“Marina, does this really suit me?” You stare at your reflection, and Marina looks at you approvingly, her eyes taking in your stunning appearance. "Sì, my lady, it suits you perfectly," she assures you, "The dress brings out your features beautifully and fits your figure perfectly.”

“and the colour?”

"Oh, yes, the color is exquisite. It complements your skin tone perfectly. You look like a princess attending a royal ball.” and you smile shyly as you take your seat, “You flatter me too much, you know?”

Marina chuckles softly, moving behind you to work on your hair with practiced ease. "It's not flattery if it's the truth. You look truly radiant today." She begins to style your hair, weaving intricate braids and pinning them in place with delicate silver pins.

Though you can't even lie to yourself, you looked absolutely gorgeous, even when you felt a little down since you would be going alone, and you barely knew anyone.

Marina pauses in her work for a moment, her expression becoming sympathetic as she sensed your nervousness. “It's natural to feel that way. But I believe you will be fine. You are strong and independent." She resumes styling your hair, her fingers moving nimbly to create elegant curls.

You smile at her, looking at her from the mirror, “thank you.”

"It is my honor to serve you.” As she finishes your hair, she steps back to admire her work, a satisfied expression on her face. "You are ready, my lady.”

You are ready.

You are not ready.

Because why was everyone's eyes piercing bullets through you as you entered the main hall?

The whispers and murmurs start almost immediately, the guests clearly intrigued by your presence. However, you manage to keep your composure, straightening your back and walking forward with confidence, just like how Marina taught you.

Stay calm they won't eat you, you tell yourself, trying to maintain your composure under the weight of their gazes.

You were here to make friends, hopefully.

You scan the room, hoping that someone would approach you to engage in conversation. Yet nobody, not a single soul, seems to have the courage to do so. The guests continue their conversations and dances, seemingly ignoring your presence.

And so, you find yourself standing alone, sipping on a glass of champagne, feeling lost and slightly out of place.

Well this is boring. You could've stayed in with Kitty and Marina, but at least you get free food. They always taste better, right?

Everyone went silent all of a sudden, but you ignored it at first and continue taking sips of your drink.

But the silence becomes uncomfortable, just what happened to the party?

You turn around, your eyes widening immediately in surprise as you see Capitano walking towards you. Your heart seems to skip a beat as you watch him approach, his presence commanding attention and authority in the room. Capitano stops in front of you, you can't make up what his face must be like right now, but you think he has a stoic expression on his face as he takes in your appearance. His eyes roaming up and down your figure, seemingly appreciating the elegance of your dress.

“husband?” You blurt out, setting your glass aside to greet him.

"Wife," he says simply, acknowledging the fact that you have finally addressed him by that term.

The tension breaks when soft, elegant music begins to play, signaling the start of partner dances in the middle of the ballroom.

Capitano seems to realize this as he glances around at the couples already making their way to the dance floor. He then turns back to you, his expression unreadable as he silently contemplates the situation.

He can see the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your hand clutched at your dress.

"I suppose we should dance, wife.”

“you want to dance?”

"Yes," he responds. "It appears it's customary for couples at these events to dance together." He extends his hand in your direction, gesturing for you to take it. You take his hand, wrapping it gently around his gloved one. His fingers close around your hand, his grip gentle yet firm as he leads you towards the dance floor.

You notice the whispers and murmurs among the guests growing louder. But you chose to ignore them.

Capitano guides you to the center of the dance floor and positions himself opposite you, his hand settling onto your waist, and your hands on his shoulders.

"Do you know how to dance?" You whisper to him, making sure no one listens, and your eyes are on him.

"I may not engage in these social events often, but even I understand the basics of dance." His hand on your waist pulls you closer to him, you follow his lead.

Interesting.

He leads the dance with of assurance and grace, his movements fluid and confident. As you follow his lead and swirl together across the dance floor, your eyes meet his, and you find yourself unable to look away. The closeness between you makes it feel as if the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you dancing together.

You notice how he seems to turn his head slightly to look at others, mimicking their movements swiftly, it makes you smile to yourself.

His hand on your waist feels warm, almost burning even through the fabric of your dress. It's a strange sensation you've never felt when touching him, despite having already kissed (once) before.

”my dress,” you whisper amidst the graceful dance, “what do you think of it?”

You figured you always needed to give him a little push when initiating things.

His attention drift down to take in the sight of your dress once again. His gaze roams over the fabric, lingering on the way it clings to your figure, and how the color contrasts against your skin.

"It's... " he pauses, you're just wearing a dres, but he finds it difficult to describe what he feels, "Very pleasing to the eye.” he manages to continue.

"You look rather well tonight, as well.”

“Thank you, wife.”

The music suddenly shifts to a slower tempo, and Capitano instinctively adjusts his hold on you, pulling you slightly closer as he continues to dance with you.

You totally ignore how your face is almost pressed up against his chest.

As interesting as the party was, the worst part of was walking back to the estate. Why? Because the carriage decided to break down, or maybe the horses were sleepy, you don't know.

You're glad your husband is with you, or else you might've been sacrificed to the dogs at night, now even ants will fear this big guy.

But what's worse? Your damn heels are killing you. The sides of your pinky toes are already aching that you are sure it will cause nasty blisters by tomorrow.

"Perhaps next time you should wear more comfortable shoes." He stated bluntly, his deep voice betraying no pity for your situation. “but they look pretty, plus i feel elegant in them.” you stop at your tracks, looking up at him with a defeated expression.

"I'm well aware." he says dryly, "But at what cost? You're practically torturing yourself with those heels.”

He's half right, your point still stands. Beauty is pain. And now you'll have to sacrifice your beauty.

Bye bye heels. You slide them off your feet, bow having your poor feet to walk on these rocky grounds. You do feel a little better after, though.

“stay still.” He utters, and you're confused, until he takes your heels in one hand before you feel a shift of your weight off your feet, finding yourself being carried into his arms.

you wrapped your arms around his neck silently, your eyes glancing up at him as he continues walking like he you weigh nothing.

The air around you is peaceful. You feel safe with him, he's not like the scary man you hear from the others. Maybe to others he was, but to you? He was soft for you.

Your head leans on his chest where his heart rested, the beats of his heart makes you sleepy, but you refuse to sleep just like this, you want to spend every single second savouring this feeling.

Capitano carried you all the way to the estate, and through the dark corridors, making his way to your shared chambers.

The soft moonlight filtering through the windows was the only source of illumination, the atmosphere around you quiet.

He gently deposited you back on your feet, you're back home safely.

“thank you.” You whisper, your hands reaching to take the pins out of your hair to let it breath from the scruffy yet beautiful hairstyle, and Capitano starts taking off the heavy layers off him as well, with the helmet out.

You don't notice how one of your dress straps seem to fall off your shoulders, but he notices, and oh did that make something in him stir.

His steps closer from behind you, his hand reaching to put the strap back in place, but instead, he glances at the other strap.

It looked rather lonely being on your shoulder, his fingers delicately sliding the strap down which makes you ultimately still in your place.

Your entire body trembled slightly as Capitano's hands caressed your skin, tracing gentle paths across your shoulders and back down to the zipper on your side. “May i.. help you out of your dress?” His low, gruff voice, asking for permission to help you out of your dress, made your heart beat faster.

You could only nod in response, your voice silenced by a mixture of anticipation and desire. Capitano's touch was meticulous, his thumb and index delicately moving down the zipper with deliberate slowness, prolonging the tension.

Capitano lets out another low hum as he watches the dress slide down to your ankles, now leaving you only in your undergarments. His hands traced the contour of your body, his touch delicate yet possessive. His own breathing became ragged, the sight of you partially undressed igniting a fire in his eyes.

“Will you allow me to touch you?”

The question makes you turn your head, of course he can.

When you don't stop him from wrapping his arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, he takes it as a green light to continue.

His hand first brushed your hair out of the way, to allow his lips to come in contact with the nape of your neck, “you're so beautiful..." he whispered, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity through your core.

“I don't…” he hesitates, wanting to move his hands away, “i don't want to do anything you don't like.”

And your expression softens at his concern, you turn around to take his face into your hands, your thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks and he nuzzles into your touch, wrapping a hand around your wrist before pressing a kiss to your palm. You further reassure him by littering his face with your lips, giving every empty space of his skin with at least one kiss.

“Allow me to experience this with you, and i shall take care of you till i take my very last breath.” he hoists you up easily into his arms, rough hand under your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist, he laid you down on the soft sheets, his body covering yours as he looked down at you.

“You occupy my every thought,” he starts, “that it feels sinful to even look at your way.” He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his hand continued its exploration, ripping your bra off to cup your breast, feeling your nipple harden under his touch. He rolled it between his fingers, pinching it gently as he deepened the kiss when you gasp, his tongue delving into your mouth, savouring your taste and angelic sounds.

He leaned down afterwards, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and your hands find his ling strands instantly, tugging on them while being careful not to hurt him.

His fingers traced down to your hip, giving them a firm squeeze before ripping your panties off next, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, feeling you writhe and tense up under him.

It felt like an unknown territory you've yet to explore.

Upon sensing your discomfort, he presses his lips to your eyelids, then to your neck, taking his time until you relaxed, until you started feeling good based off how you were bucking your hips now.

Oh how he wanted to take his time with you, but he was aching so bad that if he continues touching you he might just burst embarrassingly fast in his pants.

“Let me in, my wife.” He gently starts massaging your thighs as he parts them, making you feel more exposed than ever, but he distracts you by softly kissing you again and again while he's unbuckling his pants and pushing them down, revealing his throbbing thick, hard cock.

“Capitano—!” you try to squirm away when you feel his tip push into your tight hole, your lips parting from the way he stretched you open, but at the same time you felt relaxed with his soft whispers of ‘take your time’ and ‘you’re doing well, my wife.’

Your cunt soon takes in every inch, swallowing him whole until you were a panting mess, and you didn't even start.

Capitano then began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, letting you get used to his size, to how you feel, to how he feels as he makes love to you for the first time together.

You feel your heart up to your throat and ears, it felt incredible, something you've never felt before, your soft moans echoing in the air along with a few groans coming from him.

He shivered when he felt your fingertips trace the few scars littering his shoulders and back, his dick twitching almost instantly before his thrusts grew faster, more urgent.

His hand reached down, returning back to draw circles around the bundle of nerves, and he could feel your body tense, your walls clenching around his cock as he continued to rub your clit.

“come for your husband,” he breaths heavily next to your ear, and you come undone, your moans filling the room as he felt you milk his cock. He could feel his own release following after, his balls tightening before he slammed into you one last time, spilling thick ropes into your womb, until you were filled to the brim.

Your legs were shaking slightly around him, yet his warm embrace afterwards made you melt, eyelids heavy with him still being buried inside you.

—

You groggily woke up, still half in a dream-like state, the room bathed in shadows due to the closed curtains blocking out the morning sun.

As your senses slowly returned to reality, you heard a soft meow next to you, and sure enough, your little kitten had made itself comfortable in the middle of the bed. To your surprise, Capitano, who was still asleep beside you, didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the creature's presence.

“pst,” you whisper to your husband who only hummed in acknowledgment of your attention. “Can we go have a picnic this early morning? With our baby kitten of course.”

Tags: @sayastyx, @nastylilcvnt, @bigboygoose,

[sleepymarimo]

❝𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩!❞

synopsis: you're tasked with waking up zoro for dinner, but it's hard to make him budge.

pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: more tooth rotting fluff for my favorite swordsman :) wc: ~1.6k an: i had a dream about this and added some even more fluff because why not. ty all i hope you enjoy <3 also i realized i have a decent chunk of zoro fics about napping lol maybe this is why im sleepymarimo i just love that sleepy lil guy

"Where the hell is that shitty swordsman?" Sanji grumbles, cigarette hanging from his lips as he sets a hefty plate of rice on the dining table.

Even though you're acutely aware that the marimo is missing, you pretend to peer over shoulders and swivel your head to give the impression that you're just as clueless as everyone else. You're already sat at the table, utensils neatly resting beside your plate.

Everyone else is already in the dining room, Luffy practically on the brink of perishing as the food is placed before him. Chopper and Usopp are close behind, their forks glinting in the light.

Robin is patient, smiling at the sight before her, the one she's grown to love. "I believe he said something about taking a nap," she reveals, her fingers wrapping around the stem of a wine glass. "He might be holed up in the boy's room."

"You mean the men's room?" Franky speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood, the cola bottle in his hand hissing as he pops the cap.

Nami shakes her head, not in the mood to entertain the hooligans she calls her crewmates- her family. When Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper start to chant for their food, the navigator's last straw cracks into a million pieces.

Her chair slides back with a screech as she stands, planting her hands on the table. "Ugh, I can't believe that guy, sleeping through dinner!" The sigh she gives is intentionally dramatic, her charm working its magic as Sanji quickly offers to knock some sense into the green-haired swordsman.

It all comes to a halt when a pair of hands sprout from the table, tugging at the cook's shirt in a silent command to stay put. All eyes go to Robin, her knowing gaze easily hiding whatever ploy is running through her mind.

She calls your name and you immediately feel your cheeks warm, though you still feign obliviousness even if it seems like she's peeking right into your brain.

"Why don't you get Zoro?" she suggests, yet deep down you know you don't have an option.

Even if the thought of protesting crosses your mind, the chorus of growling stomachs and pleas for you to hurry have you standing and scampering up the stairs and to the deck.

Standing in front of the door to the boy's cabin, you feel your stomach drop a bit. You're quite literally entering a tiger's den, into the willing jaws of a beast who has been known to treasure booze, swords, and naps above all else.

The air inside the room is significantly more warm, heavy, compared to the cool breeze blowing outside. It's dark, your eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting as you carefully step over shoes and dirty clothes.

For a moment the beds seem empty and you wonder if he's even inside, yet the massive figure atop one of the bunks makes you quickly reconsider that thought.

His bare back rises and falls at a leisurely pace, his arms sprawled over the sides of the bed while he lays on his front. Cheek pressed comfortably into his pillow, Zoro naps away without much care for anything else.

After gawking for a second or two, you step toward the bunk, mentally cursing, and steel yourself for what feels like the millionth time. The wooden structure is a bit too tall for you to get a look at him, so with a small grunt you step onto the bottom bunk and grip onto the rails to hoist yourself up.

As soon as you take a glimpse over the top bunk's railing, you feel the warmth of his exhales across your nose and cheeks. It makes your face warm, your own breaths stalling as you take in the sight of him looking so… serene.

His face is softened, relaxed, a stark contrast to the pinched brows and scowls he usually wears.

Imagining the exasperated faces of your hungry crewmates, you get on with your small mission. Even though you're there to wake him, you're considerate enough to keep mindful of your tone. "Zoro?" comes his name from your lips, a murmur not quite suited for waking a beast.

The most you get out of him is the slight wrinkling of his nose, like a fly had perched there for a second before buzzing off. In a way it's expected given that he's slept through storms and whole marine attacks.

Your tone is louder the next time you call his name, more firm, his silhouette becoming pronounced as your eyes adjust to the dark room. "Zoro," you call again, arms starting to ache from how you're pulling yourself up to the top bunk.

Again, nothing. It's almost comical at this point, really.

You resist the urge to groan in frustration, your options becoming more limited. Time really isn't on your side here, not when the odds of a hungry pirate barging into the room increases by the second.

Taking a big breath, you decide that this is going to be the last try. This is going to be the one to wake the marimo, whether he likes it or not.

Unfortunately, the sea has other plans for you.

The ship hits a patch of rough water, the violent movement causing you to lose your grip on the railing tethering you to the top bunk. Your breath also catches when the sudden jolt makes your feet slip off the mattress belonging to the bottom bed, your heart skipping a beat when you feel yourself starting to fall back.

You're fully prepared to brace yourself against the harsh floor, your muscles tensing and jaw tightening, but you don't even have the chance to fall back a single inch.

A strong arm, previously hanging limp over the bed, curls around your waist and holds you steady. It supports all your weight, even as your legs kick out in an attempt to find solid ground. With your face suddenly squished into the junction of his neck, your own arms act on instinct and wrap around his shoulders.

Zoro's awake now, steel-grey eye open and aware as if he hadn't been knocked out cold just seconds ago. His senses have a unique threshold, not bothering to pick up on the calls of his name but always managing to be ready when his crewmates need him most- especially you.

His skin is warm, a tell tale sign that he'd probably been napping for hours. Tightening his grip on you, he sits up, pulling you with him. You're still disoriented, wondering why you haven't hit the floor, but he's as sharp as ever.

"The hell are you doin'?" he grumbles, voice still heavy from his rest, carrying that delightful rasp. His irritated tone is a facade, more of a light chide than anything. "You tryin' t'break your neck or something?"

You feel like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing a couple times while you're still dangling from the top bunk. It's hard to not get in a few mumbled apologies, not knowing if he's ticked from being stirred from his sleep.

"Dinner is ready," you reply, managing to find your words, your hold on him not letting up due to fear of falling once more. He feels so warm, the definition of a guilty pleasure, and you're left to exert as much self-control as possible.

He lets out a scoff, amused, then grunts as he finally realizes you're still hanging over the bed. His hand moves, sliding across your waist to grab at the back of your shirt. While Zoro's strength is known throughout all the seas, it always leaves you in awe. With nothing more than a bicep curl, he hoists you up and onto the top bunk with him.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sink into the soft mattress, the bunk creaking with the added weight and how Zoro shifts into a seated position. Legs crossed over one another, he stretches his arms over head, unintentionally showing off his physical prowess.

Your eyes find the ceiling out of respect, but mostly because you're another second away from bursting into flames.

He yawns, then rubs at the back of his neck. "Dinner, huh?" he repeats, finding the answer satisfactory enough and shrugging his shoulders. "They sent the right person. I don't need that shitty cook hurling a kick my way."

You nod and even get out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure waking up to me almost falling is a lot better," you joke, looking over the bunk to see the drop to the floor.

"It's no problem," he assures, his gold earrings catching in the slivers of moonlight entering through the window as a lazy smirk grows on his face. "I got ya."

While you'd be willing to skip dinner to stay with the swordsman, your stomach protests with a hefty grumble. Zoro's stomach follows suit, making it's need for food known. The timing of it makes another laugh slide past your lips, a sound that makes his smirk soften into something more genuine.

With a small grunt, he hops off of the top bunk and lands on the floor with a solid thud. "Alright," he starts, stretching his back out a bit more before lifting his head to meet your gaze. "Let's go eat." His arms raise, ready to help you down from the bed. Whether you want to take the ladder or propel yourself into his embrace, he silently vows to be there to offer support. Although Zoro could be stubborn, gruff, and brash, he'd never let you fall, not ever.

[illyrianbitch]

Body Count

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Anxious about how your lack of experience compares to Azriel's, you ask him about his body count. Unfortunately for him, he misunderstands the question gravely.

based on this funny lil request!

Warnings: angst if you squint, miscommunication, silly az and silly cassian making fun of silly az, mentions of death/killing, a sweet lil kiss! fluff!

Word Count: 3.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You’ve always had a soft spot for Azriel. 

It wasn’t just his mysterious aura and brooding looks that made him irresistibly attractive to you— though those definitely added to the appeal. Azriel was thoughtful. He was attentive. He seemed to understand you and your needs in a way that none of your other friends could. 

Your feelings for him had grown over time, blossoming into a full-blown crush.

And for the most part, it seemed like Azriel enjoyed your company too. 

There was a playful flirtation between you two, a spark that you hoped would ignite into something more. It had grown even hotter these past two months, through conversations that were held entirely too close to one another, stolen glances, and brief touches that sent shivers down your spine. 

But deep down in your stomach, there was something holding you back— a bitter, nauseating feeling. You weren’t just nervous, you were insecure. 

It wasn’t a secret that Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand had their fair share of lovers. After all, they were all extremely attractive and had lived for centuries longer than you. But the idea of Azriel’s love life had begun to spin itself into an anxious, terrifying web in your mind. You weren’t experienced in such matters— at least, not nearly as experienced as Azriel must've been. The thought was daunting to you. Terrifying, really.

It was late at night now, and the last of your family had bid their goodnights, retreating to their respective rooms and homes. You found yourself alone with Azriel in the dimly lit living room, the small crackling fire mixing with the remnants of the celebration that lingered in the air— the heady scent of wine and the distinct smells of each of your loved ones. 

You stole a glance at Azriel, noticing the way his cheeks were slightly flushed, eyes bright with mirth. His shadows were calm, dancing playfully around his feet and his arms. He caught your gaze instantly, offering you a lopsided smile, the corners of his lips turning upwards in a way that made your heart flutter.

This was your chance— a perfect, quiet moment to confess something to him. To tell him how you felt. 

But the nauseating feeling in your stomach bubbled up once more. You bit the inside of your cheek. Perhaps it was the perfect moment indeed. Not to confess your feelings quite yet, but to get rid of the spider web of overthinking you’d created. 

Summoning up the courage, you leaned closer to him, the alcohol emboldening you. "Hey, Az," you began, your voice soft and hesitant.

Azriel turned to you. "Yeah?" 

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "Can I ask you something?"

Azriel’s face seemed to soften. "Of course."

You held his gaze for a moment, taking in the hues of his eyes that seemed more golden in the firelight. A small blush rose to your cheeks and you swallowed nervously, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. 

"What is your body count?" 

Azriel blinked. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as his mouth slightly parted, and you watched as his gaze seemed to dance around your face. He opened his mouth to respond, but a hiccup escaped him instead of words.

"I'm just... I was just wondering," you stammered, your cheeks burning hotter with heat. "If you're comfortable sharing, that is."

Azriel smiled at you, letting out another small hiccup as he repositioned himself to lean closer.  His shadows seemed to reach out towards you, a subtle, almost subconscious gesture of reassurance. "It's alright," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't mind sharing."

He took a moment to compose himself. “8,754.”

As if you’d been doused in icy water, your alcohol-induced haze dissipated instantly. 

"Oh," you breathed out, your eyes widening in shock. "Oh."

You would’ve tried harder to hide your shock, but the only thing you could focus on now was the large, heavy, number. It hit you like a ton of bricks, the weight of it settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. 

You expected a large number, sure. You told yourself that you could come to terms with it, learn how to be comfortable with the gap in your experiences. But you hadn’t prepared yourself for this large of a number, and suddenly you felt… uneasy. 

Azriel watched you closely, his expression quickly filling with concern. "Are you alright?" 

Azriel had been with over 8,754 people?

You nodded slowly. Unable to meet his gaze, you casted your eyes towards the carpet in front of him. "Yeah, I'm fine," you murmured, "I, uh, I think I need to go home. I must’ve drank too much."

Azriel seemed to sober up immediately. His shadows, which had been lazily swirling around his feet, suddenly grew still, sensing his shift in mood. He sat up straight, a look of worry crossing his features. "Here, let me walk you to your room," he offered, his wings slightly unfurling as if ready to rise.

You avoided his gaze once more, shaking your head quickly. "It's alright. I got it," you insisted, standing up a bit too quickly. You swayed slightly, and his wings twitched as if he wanted to reach out and steady you. You quickly regained your balance. "Goodnight, Az."

Azriel watched you go, shadows trailing after you slightly before retracting back to him. His wings sagged, a sense of helplessness washing over him as he watched your retreating form disappear down the hallway.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel was tense. Every muscle in his body, every movement he made, it all felt constrained– stressed. Troubled. His shadows swirled restlessly around him, their hurried movements perfectly mirroring the deep agitation he felt in his gut.

Days had passed since his last proper conversation with you. He missed it— missed your presence, missed your laughter. He’d grown so used to your company, had begun to look forward to your conversations and the small flirty banter that he’d gained the confidence to indulge in. But you were distant now— awkward, even. And it was driving him mad. 

It was hot out, the afternoon sun blaring down on him and Cassian as the sound of clashing blades filled the air. Heavy sweat trickled down their faces, to a point where Azriel’s hair clung to his forehead like glue. 

But Azriel’s mind was anywhere but the training ring. And his brother quickly noticed.

"Alright," Cassian said, stepping back and lowering his weapon. "Either you're losing to stroke my ego, or something's going on."

Azriel grumbled, parrying another blow. "I'd never lose for your ego.” His wings twitched in annoyance. 

Cassian frowned, a scrutinizing gaze watching Azriel's movements closely. Something was definitely off. He tied his hair back up, securing it tightly. "Alright, spill it."

"No," Azriel replied curtly, his grip tightening on his weapon. His shadows seemed to wrap tighter around his form, as if trying to shield him from the conversation.

"No?" Cassian echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to talk about my feelings with you. We're not twelve.”

Cassian let out a small scoff, raising his hands in exasperation. "By the Cauldron, Az, just tell me why you've got a stick up your ass."

Azriel glared at him. A moment passed. And then he sighed, sheathing his weapon. 

"Y/N has been avoiding me, it seems."

Cassian frowned. "Are you sure?"

The question only brought a scowl to Azriel’s face, who threw Cassian a glare. 

"Yes, Cassian. I'm sure."

There was an itchy, prickling feeling of annoyance filtering through Azriels skin. His shadows flared out briefly before settling back into their usual orbit.

"Well, what did you do?"

Azriel’s shadows twisted tighter and his wings rustled uneasily.

"I didn't do anything.” 

Cassian gave him a skeptical look, crossing his arms. "Really?"

Azriel threw him another withering glare. But when Cass only responded with a raised eyebrow, Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly. "At least, nothing that I'm aware of."

"Alright," Cass said, "Maybe you offended her somehow. What happened the last time things were normal? Can you remember?"

Azriel paused. He remembered quite clearly despite the drunken haze he had been in. He grimaced as the memory drifted into his mind, bright and clear as day. 

"She asked me for my body count.”

Cassian’s eyes widened. He stilled, leaning forward slightly. "And?"

"And I told her.”

There was a pensive look on Cassian’s face, a furrow forming between his brows as he processed Azriel's words. He narrowed his eyes at his brother. "What is your body count?" 

Exactly like that other night, Azriel replied without hesitation. "8,754.”

Cassian coughed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "I-I’m sorry?" he spluttered, caught off guard by the staggering number.

Azriel's confusion deepened, a frown marring his features. "You know this.”

"No," Cassian countered, shaking his head emphatically. “I do not know this.”

Azriel clenched his jaw, offering Cassian a cold unamused and irritated stare. “Yes, you do.”

"Apparently not.” Cassian let out a scoff. “Hell, I would’ve remembered if you slept with almost nine thousand people, Az. That's more than me."

Azriel’s face twisted into a scowl, a deep crease forming between his brows. His wings flared slightly. 

"Slept with? What the hell are you talking about?" 

Realization flickered in Cassian’s widened eyes, and suddenly, an understanding dawned on him. "Oh," he breathed out, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He let out a hearty laugh. "Got all the skills in the world but that brain still fails ya, huh Az?" 

Azriel fought the urge to send a swift hit to his brother's jaw, if only to knock the amused grin off his face. 

"Can you be serious for one godsdamned minute?" Azriel snapped.

Cassian's laughter subsided, his expression sobering as he met Azriel's gaze— only slightly. The grin still persisted. "Body count doesn’t refer to your kill count," he explained, "It’s how many people you’ve fucked."

Azriel's face dropped and the color drained from his cheeks. From behind him, his wings fell limp. "You can’t be serious.”

"Deadly serious, brother.”

Azriel glanced to the ground, his mind racing through that moment with you. He thought back to your response, to that small “Oh” that haunted him, to the way your eyes widened. He’d simply assumed that you were disgusted by the amount of lives he’d taken, that you’d spent the night imagining how much blood was on his hands. For some reason, this new reality of what the question meant— it felt even more intimate. Oh gods.

"So does Y/n think that I..." he trailed off.

"That you've fucked almost nine thousand people?" Cassian finished for him, a subtle grimace painted on his features.

"But I haven't," Azriel protested.

"Well, you should probably be telling her that." 

Azriel didn't waste another moment. He turned on his heel, desperate to immediately find you and explain the very apparent miscommunication. 

"Wait!" Cassian called out. Azriel paused, turning around with an impatient glare. 

"Take a bath. You stink," Cassian said, wrinkling his nose for emphasis.

Azriel's glare deepened, and he flipped Cassian off before continuing his stride toward the exit.

Cassian's laughter boomed behind him, the sound trailing after Azriel as he walked away. "eight thousand seven hundred and fifty-four," Cassian muttered to himself, still chuckling in disbelief.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel rushed down the hallway. Following Cassian’s unasked for advice, he was freshly bathed, hair still damp and clinging to his forehead. His shadows flitted nervously around his feet, his wings twitching restlessly at his back. 

He had no time to waste. Azriel really liked you. He needed to find you and clear up the misunderstanding before it began to fester into something deeper, something much harder to clean up. 

He found you in your room, catching you just as you were about to leave. “Y/n,” he said, as he came to a stop in your doorway. His voice was a bit louder than he intended.

You jumped, letting out a small scream as you spun to face him.  You caught his gaze as your hand flew to your heart. “Azriel,” you breathed out, a nervous smile playing on your lips as you steadied your breathing. “You scared me.”

He gave you a sheepish smile, his wings shifting slightly– a small, but clear sign of his embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said softly.

You let out a small laugh. “Hi, Az.” 

His smile grew. “Hi Y/n,” he responded, walking further into your room. “Are you heading out?”

You blinked in an attempt to break away from his gaze, casting a quick glance down towards your window. “Oh, yeah. I was just gonna go walk about Velaris, get some fresh air.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment before asking, “Would you like some company?”

You hesitated too, a part of you wanting to say yes. But then the infamous number came to mind, and the bitter, nauseating feeling returned. “Maybe another time?” you said, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

Azriel could tell you meant it, but the disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Alright,” he responded softly, his wings drooping slightly. “Enjoy your walk.”

A wave of sadness rolled through you at his response, at the way his shadows seemed to still at your rejection. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in his wet hair and the way his eyes seemed to plead with you. 

“I��ll see you later,” you said, offering him a small smile before making a move to side-step him. 

Before he could overthink it, Azriel reached out and gently grabbed your arm. The touch was soft, but it stopped you in your tracks. You turned back to him, finding yourself suddenly very close to him, faces only inches away.

His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. A giddy flutter spread through you as his touch sent warmth racing through your veins. You melted into his grip, feeling a hunger for his closeness after just a few days without it. His gaze held yours, intense and searching, before flickering down to your lips. You took a deep breath.

“I’ve taken 8,754 lives,” Azriel finally spoke, his voice low and hesitant.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You took a step back, properly facing him now, trying to process his words. “What?”

Azriel looked sheepish, his eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. 

His shadows fluttered around him.

“The other night, you asked me what my body count was. I told you 8,754.”

You nodded slowly. “I remember.”

“I thought you were asking how many people I’d killed. Not—” he paused, a small blush reaching his cheeks. “Not how many people I’ve slept with.”

Your lips parted in an O of realization. You took in his face, observing how his shadows swirled tirelessly around him. Azriel offered you a small, unsure smile. A small laugh left your lips.

“Why would I be asking you how many people you’ve killed?” you finally asked. Your voice was soft with confusion and a hint of amusement. A small gleam grew in the shadowsinger’s eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Azriel responded honestly. “Why were you asking how many people I’ve slept with?” 

You blushed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s silly.”

Azriel reached forward, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to him. His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. You fluttered at the sudden closeness, feeling a rush of warmth and nerves flow through your body. 

“It’s not,” he insisted softly, his eyes holding yours with unwavering sincerity.

“I just wanted to prepare myself. I haven’t… I’m not experienced in these types of things.” You paused, holding his gaze for a moment. And then the corners of your lips tugged into a smile. “But gods, it’s good to know I don’t have to compete with the experience of almost nine thousand previous lovers.”

Azriel’s expression softened, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You never have to compete with anyone, Y/n. Especially not with me.”

A warmth settled in your chest. His thumb stroked your hand, a soothing rhythm that seemed to cause butterflies in your stomach with every touch. 

“Well, that’s good to know,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah?” 

Azriel’s voice was soft now, a low cadence that made you feel like puddy in his hands. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a small smile.

The smile on his face grew further. You traced the movement with your eyes, taking in the small smile lines and dimples that formed. His smile dropped slightly as he frowned, brows furrowing slightly. 

“Wait.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Hmm?”

“It doesn’t bother you that I’ve killed 8,754 people?

 “I know you have your reasons.” You shrugged gently. “Also, I don’t have to compete with dead people.”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, as if a weight had been lifted off him. A chuckle left his mouth. It was warm and genuine, and the sound resonated deeply within you. “Just one of the many reasons why I like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“You like me?

Azriel nodded, his gaze unwavering— something soft, almost sacred. “I do.”

A rush of warmth spread through you at his confession. You took a moment to let the words sink in. Your grin widened. “I knew it.”

Azriel shook his head, a smile of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “I wasn’t really trying to hide it.”

Your grin widened even more and you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. His thumb continued its gentle rhythm on your hand.  “Do you feel the same way?” he asked. 

“I wasn’t really trying to hide it,” you admitted, mirroring his previous words with a soft smile.

Azriel’s expression seemed to soften further, his eyes reflecting a warm sense of longing. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. 

Slowly, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek delicately, his touch sending a shiver down your body. You took a deep breath, feeling his scarred fingers run alongside your cheek. He met your eyes again, his gaze heavy, seeking something— permission. 

“Can I kiss you now?” 

Words eluded you for a moment as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You simply nodded, breath catching in your throat as you whispered, “Please.”

For another fleeting moment, his hand cradled your face delicately, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with a tenderness that made your heart ache. And then he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was sweet and fervent.

It was shy at first— a hesitant, tentative meeting of lips that conveyed unspoken feelings that had never been fully addressed until now. You welcomed the warmth of his lips against yours, the sweetness of the moment overwhelming your senses. You pressed yourself further into his touch, fingers moving to tangle themselves in his hair as you pulled him closer. 

Azriel let out a sound of content as the kiss deepened, his shadows wrapping around you both like a protective embrace. You felt their cool, feather touch around your body, felt as lone tendrils weaved through your hair. 

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, Azriel rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed as he savored the closeness between you. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your cheek. 

“I’m glad we cleared that up,” he murmured.

You let out a soft laugh. 

“Me too.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

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@evergreenlark

azriel tag list🫶🏻:

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[twilightcitysky]

So you're Aziraphale, angel of the Eastern Gate, lately angel of an antique bookshop in Soho, even more lately exile of Heaven, and it doesn't seem like you've ever gotten anything right. You thought you knew what Truth was because it was written down, but when it comes to living with that Truth you find that you can't; you can't allow Heaven OR Hell to hurt people like that. Your reliable black and white turns to shades of grey, over and over again until you've lost everything you ever believed in-- except Crowley.

Crowley crept up on your heart; you hardly noticed until he handed you a valise of books in the ruins of a church, but from that moment on he became your anchor. It scares you, because he's supposed to be everything you stand against, but you figured out a long time ago that he's kinder than Hell, more merciful than Heaven, and better by far than either of them. It scares you more because your association puts him in terrible danger. You get notes when Heaven is upset with you, but he gets the kind of correction you successfully keep yourself from thinking about until you take his place in Hell and see what they do to their own kind, just for fun.

After that, you think: never again. You don't know much for certain anymore, but you swear on everything you are that he'll never go back to Hell.

At first, it seems like you've gotten away with it. You're spending time together, and he's taking off his glasses more, and you call him every day and he comes... maybe he's still a little distant, a little tense, but that's to be expected and you're getting there. Baby steps, you tell yourself. After all, he waited for you. You want him to feel safe. You need him to be safe.

Then suddenly he's talking to a demon. He moves his plants into his car and won't say why, claims it's a new gardening technique but you think he's lying. Gabriel shows up, and you start to realize you've been living in a fantasy world-- Heaven and Hell won't leave you alone. There's no escape from them, and they will never stop. The bookshop doesn't keep you safe. The Bentley doesn't keep you safe. It seems like demons are everywhere, and you're so frightened; you've never been brave. (Oh, you do what you have to do when you're back's against the wall but that's different; you've been terrified every time.)

Demons kill one of your human acquaintances, a shopkeeper whose only crime was attending the party you threw (because you thought some romantic dancing would finally make Crowley see what you've been trying to tell him for four years now. Selfish. Stupid. Another thing you got wrong). You've put the humans in danger, you've put Crowley in danger, and there's nowhere to hide. There are angels and demons in your home, threatening your very existence.

You realize it's hopeless, that you'll only get a little more time, and you look at Crowley because no matter what happens, no matter how soon they take everything from you, you need him to know that you love him. You have to tell him now.

But then-- in walks Metatron. He effectively declaws the angels, and he offers you a sweet drink, and maybe he's not such a bad guy after all. He offers you safety-- but not just for you. He says you can keep Crowley safe too. If you're both angels again, and you're in charge, nobody can hurt you. More importantly, nobody can hurt Crowley. He'll never have to go back to Hell. You'll never be parted again.

Of course it's not exactly what you wanted, but... shades of grey, right? Crowley taught you that. Sometimes you have to compromise. And it doesn't matter, really, if Crowley's an angel or a demon; there's really no difference between your kind and his (Crowley taught you that, too).

You're so excited to tell him. You can finally be together. You can protect the humans, help the world grow and flourish, and have the power to change Heaven for the better. Okay, it means losing the bookshop, but that's just... things. You'd give it all up for the chance to be with Crowley forever.

He says no.

He doesn't want to go with you. He doesn't trust you to make a plan that will help you both. He's so angry. But then he says he wants to run away together, and you have a flash of hope: he gets it, now, finally. "Come with me!" you say.

He puts his glasses on. Tells you, "Good luck."

But... "I need you!" You're actually begging. Please Crowley. All I've ever wanted was to protect you. And protect this Earth.

He throws it back in your face. You've spent so many years thinking about how to keep Heaven and Hell from destroying you, and finally you have a chance, and he says... he says he understands better than you do.

Fine, then.

You start to cry. You'll have to go alone; you can't stay here and continue to put him in danger. It's what you've always done when it seems that Hell is closing in on him-- you distance yourself to save him. It's the only thing you can do now.

He kisses you. It's full of rage and hurt and bitterness. You can taste salt on his lips. And it scares you, how much you want it anyway. You've wanted it since 1941, after all.

But.

You've imagined this a thousand times, and each time it was soft. It was the start of something, not the end.

You want to tell him you love him, but what does it matter now? So you say the only thing you can say: "I forgive you".

I forgive you for taking the chance to be an "us" away.

so you're anthony j. crowley, long-time exile from heaven and recent exile from hell, and you've finally figured out that the mess of overwhelming and infuriating and intoxicating feelings you've been harboring for the only being in the universe you've ever been able to rely on might, whoopsies, be something a little bit like love. but not love the way you remember heaven loved you, or the way they told you god loved you (they lied), but love like the humans do it: messy, and awkward, and incongruously infinite, and so, so fragile.

and, well. okay, you think. this'll be horrible. embarrassing for both of us, probably. but i'll tell him. you've never been a coward, no matter what the other demons might say. screw your courage to the sticking place, or whatever. macbeth. aziraphale loved that one.

so you talk yourself into it, you gather every scrap of courage and honesty you've got left, and you say, all right, angel, i've got something to say, only aziraphale's got something to say, too, and--

aziraphale doesn't love you back.

or. he does, but he loves the ghost of the angel you used to be, not the person you've made yourself since. he loves you, but he loves you like god did--loves you good, and quiet, and dull. he loves you without your grief, or your anger, without even that first bite of the apple. he wants you like that again, he says. defanged, like the Antichrist's domesticated hellhound.

(you worked for hell for a long time, and for god for a long time before that. you're intimately familiar with what it is to offer someone everything they've ever wanted, and then to twist it, to mutilate it, into an unrecognizable hell of their own choosing. you're not sure why it surprises you anymore. you're not sure why you keep letting the surprises hurt.)

and so you do the thing you've done since the beginning, because you've never been able to stop yourself: you push. you push hard, and you grab him, and he's so angry and you kiss him and you don't think about it, don't think about it, this is the most important temptation of your life, the only one that's ever mattered--

and he forgives you.

so you leave. at least that way you can do it before he does. you've always been a step ahead and to the left; stupid to think this would ever be different. stupid to think he might choose you, with all of heaven and earth spread out in front of him. nothing lasts forever, not even the stars.

he told you that a long time ago.

[itscamile222]

How to Shift: Simplified

This is what I did the time when I was closer to shifting (I'm currently in a break, since like a week after that attempt), and it's also how many people shift.

It's actually pretty simple. I'm going to explain it in steps to make it even easier to understand, although it's not supposed to be a step by step method.

LAY DOWN AND RELAX: Breath deeply, meditate, count your heartbeats... do whatever it works for you. take a few minutes, till your mind is as calm as possible.

IMAGINE: Start imagining the exact place where you'll wake up. It's not necessary to visualise, I personally don't do it. I just imagine everything in first person as I were there. If you feel like it, try adding more and more details, like the breathing of your roomies, the texture of your clothes, etc. However, this is optional.

THINK AS YOUR DR SELF: What are you doing tomorrow? What's that thing you can't forget to do? Do you have to finish your homework? Think in first person, as you were you other self. Daily basic things. Think what s normal person would think before going to sleep.

ENJOY BEING THERE IN IMAGINATION: Once you've imagined it, you're there. So, go on, enjoy it.

That's basically all. It's not a method. You don't have to do it in order. You don't have to remember the steps. Do it naturally, enjoy the process. Do what you feel like to do.

I'm going to tell you the KEY to this.

FORGET YOU'RE TRYING TO SHIFT. Focus on the 4d (imagination) to the point you don't remember you're not there, but attempting to shift there.

And remember, it's not a step by step method (it's like the fourth time i say it i know), but more of a "do what you feel" method. So do it in the order you like the most. If you rather first start thinking as your DR self, do it. If you rather mix imaginacion and thoughts, you're free to do it. The important thing, is that you feel there, and forget you are (not) there, but you are attempting to shift to that place.

Hope this was clear enough:)

Happy shifting

[xneens]

bsf!rafe who's wrapped around your finger, who doesn't care when his friends tease him about being whipped for you. who comes to your every beck and call, looking for any way to make your life easier, because that's his only reason for existing. to make your life better.

bsf!rafe who's hopelessly in love with you, always on the verge of confessing to you but never having the courage to do so. who spoils you with anything and everything you ever wanted. who makes a fool of himself following you around in the hopes that you love him the same way but always knowing you don't.

at a party, he spots you with your friends and he gets up, habitually getting you something to drink. he stalks closer to you with your favorite drink in a solo cup, listening to your friends.

"he follows you around all the time. i don't get how you don't get annoyed of him." your friend says, laughing.

"seriously, it's like watching a puppy begging for attention." another added, giving you a look. "it's pathetic."

and all you do is laugh in response.

he can't find it in himself to get hurt because it is the truth. he craved your attention so badly that he practically preened whenever you gave him a bit of it. rafe's so wrapped up in you that he couldn't even fault you for not defending him.

he waits a few minutes before he walks over and hands you the drink, pretending as if he's heard nothing. he melts when you give him a smile and a kiss on his cheek, mind blanking as your soft, soft lips touch his skin. you thank him, dismissing him with a hand and he reluctantly makes his way back to topper and kelce.

bsf!rafe who's bored at the party and somehow ends up talking to sofia, a waitress at the country club. he doesn't look at her when she talks, observing the party from the balcony, everything she's saying going in one ear and out the other.

he doesn't even register her touching his arm, pulling away when he sees you staring at him, your eyes drifting to the hand on his arm. he excuses himself from her, needing to be in your presence before his anxiety gets to him. needing you to soothe his worries away; worries that came from being away from you.

bsf!rafe who sees you talking with sofia instead, hides behind a tree like a creepy stalker whilst he eavesdrops for the second time that night, peeking from the side of the tree to look at you.

"do you like rafe, sofia?" you ask, voice sweet, smile even sweeter. your eyes glint with something unfamiliar as sofia nods.

"i mean, he's cute—"

you giggle, touching sofia's hair and for a second, he wonders if you were going to kiss her, jealously bubbling in his stomach. he hated watching you kiss other people, even if it was a pogue who didn't deserve a lick of your attention.

within a second, your smile drops and you glare at her. without a word, you brought your fist to your eye, punching it hard. sofia gasped in shock, unable to move as she watched you repeat the same motion three more times.

"help! someone help!" you call out with a saccharine smirk on your face, your tone not matching your words. you hold a hand to your reddening eye as people come.

rafe emerges from his hiding spot, concerned and shocked, taking you in his arms and examining your eye. people came, the music turned off as people rallied behind you, eyes glancing between you and sofia.

"that bitch hit me! someone call the cops!" you wailed out, burying your face against rafe's chest.

bsf!rafe who shields you with his arms, eyes narrowing at sofia as someone calls the cops. his mind is spinning, confused but mostly concerned for your wellbeing. he comforts you, kissing your eye in hopes it wouldn't bruise over, but with the big emerald ring on your finger—the one he had gotten you for your friendiversary—he knew it would turn blue by the end of the night.

bsf!rafe who holds you as you tell the cops what happened, sniffling and touching your eye. who listens as you tell them about sofia getting violent and hitting you until you called out for help.

bsf!rafe who saw the whole thing but lied, telling the officer the same thing you did, earning a soft smile from you. who watched you watch sofia getting cuffed and thrown in the police car with a small smirk on your lips and possessiveness in your eyes.

you stare up at him as soon as the police car is out of view, wrapping your arms around his neck. "thank you, rafey. for helping me."

bsf!rafe who will always look out for you, taking your side against others. who you keep on a short leash, never wanting his love but always using it to make yourself happy.

"anything for you," he replies, smiling.