#i just want to learn to play the lute

[princealigorna]

Have I mentioned that trying to get into early music is a rich man's hobby and it pisses me off? Vihuela (the short 5 string guitar that you still see in mariachi bands) is around $500. Lutes are around $550. Rebecs and vielles (early fiddles) got for about the same. Viols (think fretted cellos) are over $2000. Baroque guitars are $1300. Shawms are $600. Outside of a few harps for $60, and of course modern recorders going for about $30, you have to PAY if you want to learn to play medieval or renaissance music. And these aren't historical instruments either, but modern reconstructions!

I guess I'm stuck in the ghetto of playing rock music for awhile longer

[4giorno]

i think while varis's main instrument is the violin, his go to instrument for downtime is the lyre

[starscreamingg]

Apis broke moments 2022

[barblaz-arts]

Stephanie Beatrice had played my 3 favorite characters (Rosa Mirabel and Vaggie) and since I watched Encanto and B99 I have my head canon that Vaggie have both Rosa and Mirabel personalities.

Any way, I just want to know what is your head canon or theory about her? ( specifically about Lute calling her weak and why the other exorcist hate her)

Since she is your girl, I would love to read your essay about her.(I’m joking you don’t have to write that much I just like to read your post)

Thank you

"My girl"... Am I just "that one artist who's the biggest Vaggie stan" to you guys? (I won't mind it!)

Oh man! I do have some ideas! A lot of my headcanons were already kinda sorta mentioned in my fic/art tho, so sorry if you're not getting a lot of new info

- I have this headcanon that Vaggie's always been "softer" than the other Exorcists, which is what I assume Lute meant when she said she "always knew [Vaggie] was weak". I know it probably has more to do with how little time each episode has, but what if Lute was so ready, already behind Vaggie when she let that kid go, because she knew this wasn't the first time Vaggie spared a sinner? Maybe that was just the first time Lute actually caught her. Maybe she's always had her suspicions, when Vaggie's kill count would lower every year, and she'd sometimes find Vaggie saying a sinner got away somehow despite cornering that demon moments ago.

- although she's gotten used enough to her lack of depth perception when it comes to her hand eye coordination, especially when fighting, i like to think her reading ability could never truly go back to the way it used to be, so she has trouble reading/ writing/texting (if you notice, i always showed instances of this in my fic ;> )But because she's the hotel manager she still has to deal with them because of paperwork and shit, so she has prescription glasses that help. I'd wanted to include a scene in the First Guest where Vaggie almost cries after seeing Charlie thru the glasses for the first time, because she didn't think Charlie could be any more beautiful, but i scrapped the idea because I couldn't expand the concept enough to an actual scene that could be relevant to the overall fic. I probably should have just mentioned it in a paragraph or something, but by the time i remembered id already posted the chapter I intended to add it in. Maybe I'll use it for another fic.

- she prefers femme clothing so she doesn't really have a reason to do this, but she learned how to do all kinds of ties so that she could do Charlie's whenever

- she grew her hair to compensate for her lost wings

- she wasn't exactly a great cook before she Fell, but she was pretty capable when she lived alone in Heaven. Cooking for Charlie tho gave her the motivation to get better and actually enjoy it

- an angel trait that she could never truly abandon is being a stickler for rules. She's very strict on everyone and herself with these things, within reason. So even when she and Charlie started dating, she insisted that they can't sleep together until they've had their third date. When they're on the clock, they have to be professional and avoid flirtatious advances in front of staff and guests. Charlie didn't mind because she prefers privacy too.

- Vaggie's physical appearance slightly changed gradually the longer she stayed in hell. As an angel, her sclera was paler, her incisors duller, and her skin grayer. But as time passed, her sclera got more and more peach/pink, fangs sharper, and skin more purple toned

- i still like to think that Vaggie's old backstory back when only the pilot was out (having died in 2014 in her early twenties who worked as a sex worker in El Salvador) was still true. Maybe it's just because I've liked Chaggie since pilot, and I've grown really attached to that backstory. I also just really don't want Vaggie to be Heavenborn for some reason. Among the cast she just seems the most grounded to reality to me, so having her revealed to have never been human and born "divine" just doesn't seem right to me. I also just think it'd be cute and funny if it turns out she's chronologically the youngest in the hotel even tho she's basically everyone's strict not-mom.

- idgaf what Adam says, I wanna think that "Vaggie" is short for "Evangeline". I used to have these 2 coworkers in their late 50's to 60's who had Evangeline as their government name, but one of them goes by "Vanj" and the other "Vajee". Being older Filipino women who aren't really too fluent in English, they never thought there was anything wrong with that when they grew up with their nicknames. I like to think that the case was the same if Vaggie used to be human. I'm not sure how common English is in El Salvador, but I'm willing to bet it's possible she could have been given that nickname as a kid by an older family member who didn't know a lot of English. Also Evangeline makes more sense to have been the name of an angel cmon now...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Bard-aby <3 except he's only loosely a bard bc i don't subscribe to absolutes <3

rambles:

BARNABY WITH PANTS??? BLASPHEMY!!! however this is a (dnd-inspired) fantasy au so. pants! loose pants tucked into modified boots because no one can tell me No!

based off of Clown's pokemon au human Barn, it seems like he might be a bit of a jewelry guy! he was wearing rings! and had an earring! also i think Barn just looks great w/ some extra shinies, yk yk

since ties aren't really a Thing in fantasy settings, i combined the iconic pattern w/ his vest for a two-in-one. then suspenders bc they fuck severely! his belt buckle is a bone both as a nod to the pattern on his tie / house decoration, and to go along with how Wally has an apple buckle! besties stay twinning!

you can't see it but on his other side he has his pack & his smoking pipe holster, which attaches to his belt! it's very high quality leather that he spent so much money on. his pipe is important to him - he carved it himself out of wood from an important tree from his childhood, so he wants it to be properly stored & protected! he has two kinds of tobacco for it - normal, and magic tobacco that essentially allows him to cast minor spells w/ the smoke

the feathers on his hat are from Ms. Beagle! in my mind he left the farm to go adventuring on a bit of a bad note, but his mama made sure to give him a couple feathers to take with so that she'd always be close <3

he keeps his claws blunt so that he doesn't accidentally scratch people/things, and so that he can play stringed instruments without cutting the strings. while i imagine for this au he plays a wide range, he prefers Loud Handheld Instruments that allow him to sing along. so in mind he has an Accordion here! loud! jaunty! but i imagine he also keeps a recorder in his pack for when Frank needs annoying. (he did have a lute, but he broke it over someone's head in the act of defending Wally's honor)

im still trying to pin down the right balance of colors for his outfit, but! for a little au tidbit - all of his spots are the same two blues as his ears. in this im imagining that he, at a young age, learned a very basic cosmetic spell that allowed him to change his spots color to mimic Ms. Beagle's! he wanted to look like his mama! but by the time he's in his late 20s he no longer changes his spots

ohhhh i forgot to add his pockets. Oh Well

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 79

Jaskier and Geralt have confessed and gotten together, and Jaskier couldn't be happier. It's like a dream come true, being able to kiss Geralt. Jaskier learns that Geralt isn't a big fan of PDA, a tad troublesome for him, but he'll learn and grow to be a better lover for his witcher! He just might forget and try to kiss him a few times before it actually stays in his noggin! However he also learned that Geralt.. Doesn't like talking about them in public. Or insinuating them in public. Jaskier can't even make dirty jokes or ask Geralt where they should go out on dates. Geralt hisses for him to stop talking about it and glances around. Jaskier has been longing to eat at this one fine restaurant in a crowded town for months, and they have a chance to! There's a table still open! With a vase of flowers, and candles, and a dark red tablecloth, and they're sat right next to a small stage where the performers play! Jaskier goes to sit down, only for Geralt to drag him out by the arm, saying that they can't eat there. Jaskier is of course asks if there's poison in the food, or a monster infesting the eatery, only to get a grunt. "Really, Geralt, why can't we eat there?" "We just... Can't." Jaskier just assumes the owners must be some sort of witcher-hating pricks who tried to... To sell Geralt their daughter in exchange for wanting him to kill something that doesn't need to be killed or... Or some other really hateable things. A pity, he's heard amazing things about that place.. But all is well! Soon enough, they head to an inn, and get settled in a room. Jaskier tries his best to seduce his boyfriend, but Geralt just glances around their room and shakes his head. "Not now." Jaskier shrugs, and heads down to play for some coin, and perhaps get a bit tipsy for the fun of it all. He wakes up the next morning with quite an awful headache, and a very annoyed-looking Geralt. Jaskier apologizes for going overboard with the drinks, but Geralt huffs and says that isn't what's upsetting him. What upset him is Drunk Jaskier telling people that he and Geralt are together. But come onnn! Everyone's been saying "The bard is fucking the butcher" for over a decade! Surely some villager's account of a drunk bard saying the same isn't worth all the fuss Geralt is making over it. Another night, Jaskier is sat by the campfire, idly strumming his lute. "Annnd even though today I had to hide in a tree~ I love my witcher, and my witcher loves me~" Geralt suddenly loses his focus and turns sharply to Jaskier. "That's a new song." "It's not a song, I'm just making things up for fun." "So it's not in your song journal?" "...No?" "Good." 'Good'? Jaskier could just play it off as another one of Geralt's teases about disliking his music, but something about this in particular made Jaskier feel nauseous. A week or so after that, Jaskier has finished his set and is excitedly skipping off to meet back up with Geralt when he overhears some conversation from where Geralt is sat. "Your bard sings well!" "He's not my bard." "No? I thought I heard you two were together." "No. Acquaintances at best. Hardly know him." Acquaintances at best? Acquaintances? Jaskier knows Geralt has been offput by the idea of telling people they are romantically involved, but he couldn't even muster up a 'No, we're just friends.' He's STILL not a 'friend'? That's when it clicks for Jaskier. Oh. Geralt's ashamed of him.

Is it because he's a man? Would Geralt be proud to show off his lover if his lover were female? Is it because of Jaskier's looks? He's been told he's rather attractive, but perhaps he looks quite small and delicate beside a witcher. He didn't think Geralt would care for such things, though. Perhaps it's his personality. Maybe the lighthearted remarks between the two of them were more barbed on Geralt's side than Jaskier at first thought. Maybe Geralt really hates his singing, or how much he talks, or how often he turns things into an innuendo. Is he just some quick fuck in the woods? The second they hit civilization he's not even a friend? Jaskier slips back up to their room, completely forgetting to let Geralt know where he is. Oh well. If Geralt gives a shit he can sniff out Jaskier's perfume. For now, Jaskier is going to curl up in their bed and try not to cry. Jaskier and Geralt have confessed and gotten together, and Geralt couldn't be happier. It's like a dream come true, being able to kiss Jaskier. But Geralt has to keep in mind how many enemies he has out there. Personal, blind hatred based on his reputation, blind hatred based on him being a witcher, the list goes on. Geralt worried for Jaskier enough as it is when they were best friends. Geralt would be powerless and completely devastated if anyone were to take Jaskier. Geralt would be putty in their hands if they so much as threatened the bard's life. Now that they're lovers? Geralt cringes to think at how many people would be chomping at the bit for an opportunity to kill the Butcher's one true love. To use him as a hostage for Geralt to do their bidding. For them to torture Jaskier in the hopes of learning things about Geralt. So Geralt makes a plan. He'll keep Jaskier at an arm's length whenever he thinks anyone could see or hear them. It's exceptionally hard not kissing the hell out of his bard whenever he feels like it, but he must practice restraint in order to keep him safe. Jaskier keeps making it harder on him, though. Kissing him, wanting to go eat at some romantic place, telling every soul he can how much he and Geralt are inseparable soulmates who can't live without one another, all in front of so many people. Any one of which could be just too loose-lipped. Any one of which could lead to a snowballing effect that ends in his beloved Jaskier's harm or death. Geralt just can't wait until Winter comes. He plans on bringing Jaskier with him, and they'll be able to do whatever they want the entire winter, with no fear.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Dance with me

Fictober Day 13

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: my illness has turned all my plans upside down. It's obvious I'm lagging behind with my Fictober fics and probably will not manage to catch up. I wanted to post this some other time outsite the Fictober, but as I haven't finished my planed shorts I decided to go for what I have.

Warnings: fluff, SMUT 18+, dancing 😅

Word Count: 6,3K

Summary: it's Eostre – time to celebrate, to feast and honour the returning light after the long winter. And you just want to feel happy and dance...

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

The cheerful banter around the long tables, laden with food and ale, grows louder with each passing moment. Laughter fills the air, mingling with the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread. It’s the month of the goddess Eostre, a time to celebrate, to feast and honour the returning light after the long winter. 

“Hey, have you made up your mind yet?” Gisela's elbow jabs into your side just as you lift your mug, causing you to cough and nearly spill your ale.

“About what?” you ask, trying to feign innocence as you catch your breath.

“Don’t play dumb. I’m not blind. I see the way you look at him,” Gisela smirks, deftly taking the mug from your hand and setting it on the table.

“And how exactly do I look at him? And who is 'he,' anyway?” you retort, though you know she’s already seen through you. After all, your sister probably knows you better than you know yourself.

"Sihtric is a good lad. A bit shy, but loyal to a fault. You could do a lot worse," Gisela says with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "And let’s be honest, he looks at you like you hung the moon."

You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, and you fidget with the neckline of your dress. "I don't know what you're talking about," you mutter, though your heart betrays you with its quickening pace.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice instruments being retrieved, and soon the hall erupts in cheers as the first notes of a flute echo through the space. The melody is quickly joined by the rich hum of a lute and the steady rhythm of a drum, weaving together to fill the air with lively music that brings the gathering to life.

“Go to him,” Gisela urges, bumping you with her shoulder, her laughter blending into the rhythmic stomping of dancing feet. The force nearly sends you tumbling from the bench. With an exaggerated scoff, you push yourself to your feet, sticking out your tongue in a playful, mocking grimace—just like in the good old days when you were carefree kids in your father's home.

You know exactly where to find him. Tucked away in the far corner of the hall, back resting against a wooden post, one leg propped on the bench, mug in hand. He watches the loud, cheerful chaos around him with a quiet wariness, almost suspicion shimmering in his eyes.

“Would you dance with me?” you ask, planting yourself directly in front of him.

The young Dane flinches, startled. His eyes dart up to meet your questioning gaze before quickly scanning the room, as if searching for someone else you could be speaking to.

“Me?” he finally stammers, realising there’s no one else nearby. The surprise in his voice is unmistakable.

“Do you see anyone else here?” you tease, trying to suppress a smile.

Sihtric is undeniably handsome, with his dark, thick hair neatly braided, his large, vivid eyes, strong jaw, and those striking, expressive collarbones. You’ve had your eye on him since the moment Uhtred first brought him to Coccham. 

And you're quite sure Gisela is right about him. More than once, you've caught his eyes on you when he thought you weren’t looking. Not the sly, cheeky glances that some of the warriors throw your way before quickly learning you're more than capable of breaking a nose or two. 

No, Sihtric’s gaze is different—shy, hesitantly sweet, filled with admiration and quiet longing. His eyes always dart to the ground the instant they meet yours, as if he’s been caught in something forbidden, in a moment he wasn’t ready to share.

Sihtric shifts uncomfortably, a flicker of panic crossing his face. “I... I can’t dance,” he mutters, his voice barely audible over the noise of the hall. His eyes drop to the floor, clearly embarrassed by the confession.

You tilt your head, undeterred. “That’s alright. I’ll teach you,” you say with a warm smile, refusing to give him a chance to slip away. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

He glances around the room, as if searching for an escape, but when you stretch out your hand, waiting patiently, he knows there’s no way out. With a reluctant nod, he finally gives in.

“My lady, if you insist,” he mutters, his voice a mix of nerves and resignation. You grab his hand, pulling him gently toward the dance floor. His hand is warm in yours, but there’s a stiffness in his movements, his steps awkward as you guide him into the crowd.

The music swells around you, and you begin to move, showing him the simple steps. You can’t suppress the smile that tugs at your lips as he tries, somewhat clumsily, to follow. You reach for him, hook your elbows together, and start skipping around. After just a few steps, his feet tangle beneath him, and he stumbles.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammers, his face flushing as his gaze falls to the floor, as though it’s betrayed him.

You laugh softly, waving off his apology. “Take it easy. Let’s try again.”

His jaw tightens, a sign that he’s about to pull away, but you don’t let him. With quick reflexes, you grab his arms and place them around your waist. You see him swallowing hard.

“Now, we skip to the right,” you instruct, taking the lead as you pull him along. He follows hesitantly at first, but after a few more tries, he finally begins to find his rhythm. The next time your elbows hook together, he even manages not to step on your feet.

You laugh, the warmth of the ale and the heat from the dance painting your cheeks crimson. Your chest rises and falls with each breath, strands of hair loosening from your braid and tumbling over your eyes.

Sihtric’s eyes remain fixed on you, captivated. If his hands weren’t resting on your waist, he might pinch himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. But he can’t let go. He simply can’t—he’s too afraid that if he does, you’ll vanish like a figment of his imagination.

You move like a wildcat—fluid, graceful, every motion alive with an energy that seems almost unreal to him. From the moment he first set foot on Uhtred’s estate, he had kept his eyes on you. You greeted them at the gates, your laughter ringing like the chime of a bell, and in that instant, he knew he was lost.

You are a force of nature—wild, untamable, a tempest in human form. The vitality within you sparkles like the purest spring, bubbling endlessly with life and energy.

Stubborn and headstrong, you often made your sister, Gisela, and your brother-in-law furrow their brows in frustration. Whether sneaking away to hunt, challenging Uhtred’s warriors to spar, or riding far beyond the estate’s boundaries into the untamed wilds, you constantly test the limits. Yet, despite their disapproval, you were impossible to stay mad at, your spirit too vibrant, too boundless. It was as if the world itself struggled to contain you.

And now, you stand before him, eyes alight with joy and challenge, daring him to keep up with your storm. Could he? For a fleeting moment, Sihtric feels as though he could. For a fleeting moment, he forgets everything else. Your laughter, bright and contagious, fills him with a lightness he has never known before. Just for that moment.

Sihtric struggles to keep up, the lively music pushing the tempo faster, but he can’t tear his gaze from you. Your laughter rings out, a sound so free and untamed that it stirs something deep inside him. He feels out of place, unsteady on his feet, but the warmth of your body against his and the brightness of your eyes give him a sense of belonging he hadn’t expected, he hadn’t felt for ages.

You spin around, your hands never leaving him, and his grip tightens instinctively on your waist. 

“See? You’re doing fine,” you tease, breathless, your face glowing.

He swallows hard, unable to find words. The floor beneath him still feels foreign, but your encouragement pulls him back from the edge of retreat. He smiles, a rare expression, soft but filled with something that makes your heart skip a beat.

Just as he begins to relax, a sharp step pulls him back into reality. His legs tangle, and this time, you both stumble forward. He manages to catch you in the last movement, preventing you both from tumbling to the ground. You laugh, you breath catching but Sihtric stiffens, his face flushing deep red.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” he mutters hastily, his embarrassment rising faster than he can control. Without giving you a chance to respond, he loosens his grip and pulls away, stepping back awkwardly from the dance floor.

You blink in surprise, reaching out as he retreats. “Sihtric, wait—”

But it’s too late. He’s already weaving through the crowd, ducking his head and making his way toward the darker edges of the hall, away from the noise and the eyes of others. You stand there for a moment, your heart sinking as you watch him disappear into the shadows.

Taking a deep breath, you debate whether to follow him. The warmth of the ale and the excitement of the night buzz in your veins. No, you are not letting this end like this. 

You gather yourself, smoothing your dress, and push through the crowd in the direction he went. As you move toward the quieter, dimly lit corner of the hall, you finally spot him, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes are fixed on the floor, as if trying to disappear.

“Sihtric,” you call gently, approaching him with caution. He doesn’t move at first, but when you stop in front of him, he lifts his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, the words strained. “I’m... I’m not made for this. I shouldn’t have tried.”

You shake your head, stepping closer. “You did just fine. Better than fine, actually.”

He looks at you as though unsure whether to believe you, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“It’s just a dance, Sihtric,” you reply softly, reaching for his hand. 

His fingers twitch beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away this time. The tension in his shoulders seems to ease, just a little, as he takes a slow breath. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, offering a smile.

“Let’s try again,” you say, though this time your voice is quieter, more intimate. “But only if you want to.”

For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze searching your face as if trying to find the right words. Then, with a hesitant nod, he lets out a soft sigh.

You laugh softly, tugging him back toward the floor, the warmth of his rough palm holding yours making you shiver. 

The night passes in a blur of dancing, laughter, and the sensation of Sihtric’s hands on your waist, growing more confident with each step. He pulls you closer to his chest, his eyes never losing that sweet, bewildered expression, as if he still can’t believe you are real.

With each step, you feel your heart beat faster, not just from the dance, but from the way his fingers brush against your skin, leaving a trail of warmth wherever they linger. The intensity of his gaze, the way he holds you as though you’re something precious, makes you feel flustered, your cheeks growing warmer with every passing moment. 

The ale swirling in your veins adds to the heady haze, but it’s more than the drink—it’s him. The way he looks at you, like you’re the centre of his world, sends your pulse racing.

Every time his gaze meets yours, that gentle, almost shy smile tugs at his lips, but there’s something deeper in his eyes now—something softer, yet burning with intensity. You wonder if he knows what effect he has on you, if he can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the way your breath catches when his fingers splay possessively across your waist, pulling you even closer. 

For Sihtric, the night feels like a dream—one he’s terrified to wake from. He’s aware of every detail—your laughter, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips, the way you lean into him, trusting him to guide you. 

He knows so very well how his heart had skipped a beat each time your paths crossed, the way his chest had tightened when you smiled at him, as if the world around you had suddenly shifted, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from wanting to be a part of it.

He had managed to push those feelings aside, told himself it was foolish to hope. You were kind to him, warm in a way he wasn’t used to, and he’d longed for that kindness, for the gentle way you spoke his name, but he’d always convinced himself that it was something just out of reach. 

To him, you had always seemed too bright, too full of life, while he was just a shadow, lingering on the outskirts of your world, grateful for whatever small moments he could share with you.

But now, as he holds you in his arms, as your body moves in rhythm with his, he can feel the walls he’d built around his heart crumbling. As you spin together, the flickering firelight casting soft shadows around you, Sihtric  becomes more and more aware of how much he wants this—not just the fleeting warmth of your body pressed against his, but you, all of you. 

He wants to be the one who makes you laugh, the one you trust to hold you, to protect you, to be by your side in all things. But there’s still a trace of fear, a deep-seated uncertainty that makes his grip on you tighten ever so slightly, as if he’s afraid this could all vanish the moment he lets go. 

He’s always been afraid of asking for too much, afraid of wanting what he’s never thought he deserved and every time you glance up at him, your face glowing in the soft light, Sihtric realises he’s been holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable heartbreak. But instead, you smile at him, and it’s a smile that feels like home, like something he’s been searching for his entire life without even knowing it.

"Come with me, I need some fresh air," you say, taking his hand in yours. Without hesitation, he follows.

He would follow you anywhere, even to the end of the world and beyond, if that’s where you led. 

You pull him away from the lights and noise of the hall, the sounds and movement overwhelming your senses. The rapid pounding of your heart in your chest is deafening, drowning out the world around you. You slip into a narrow passage between the houses, the cool night air brushing against your heated skin.

“Wait, where are you going?” Sihtric’s voice is thick, rough around the edges, a strange tension threading through his words. The warmth in your cheeks deepens, and a flutter rises in your stomach, as if his question has set something alight inside you.

You turn to face him, a teasing smile still dancing on your parted lips. In the next moment, without hesitation, you push him back against the wall. Your lips collide with his—hungry and demanding.

Sihtric’s body freezes for a heartbeat, his muscles tensing beneath your touch as if unsure how to respond. His hands land on your shoulders, almost as if to push you away. But you don’t stop—your lips continue to explore his, tasting the ale on his ragged breath.

A soft moan escapes him, breaking the tension, and his hands begin to move, sliding up to your neck, his fingers tangling in your dishevelled hair. He pulls you closer, the hesitation melting away as his lips become just as hungry and greedy as yours.

Sihtric spins you around, your back colliding with the rough wooden wall. You barely notice, too consumed by the feverish movement of his lips against yours, the way his tongue slips between them, igniting a fire in your core. His thigh presses firmly between your legs, spreading them, and a moan escapes you, muffled against his mouth. You cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Sihtric's hands find your hips, gripping tightly as he pulls you even closer, his fingers digging into your skin through the thin fabric of your simple dress. The heat radiating from his body is intoxicating, his breath ragged against your lips as he swallows every sound you make.

Your back presses harder against the wooden wall, the roughness of it grounding you in the frenzy of the moment. His thigh remains firm between your legs, and you instinctively grind against him, desperate for more, needing the friction, the pressure, the release that only he can give you.

"Sihtric," you gasp, barely able to form the words as his lips travel down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you arch your back, offering more of yourself to him.

His hand cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple, making you gasp and buck against him. Your eager fingers start tugging at the laces of his breeches. 

“Wait, please... wait,” he pants, pulling away from your lips and resting his forehead against the wall beside you. His breath, rapid and shallow, fans across your neck, and you can feel the tremble in his body as he shivers.

“I can’t,” he whispers, his voice strained, almost broken. “I... I can’t do this,” he repeats, and you can practically hear his heart pounding wildly in his chest, as if it’s about to burst free.

“Of course you can, Sihtric. It’s Eostre, and I’m choosing you,” you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair, though you try to mask the disappointment creeping into your voice. “Don’t you want me?”

Doubt begins to coil around your thoughts. Had you misread him? Misunderstood everything? Perhaps he wasn’t just shy as you’d thought—maybe his heart already belongs to someone else. The uncertainty makes your chest tighten, and you struggle to steady your breath.

“I do, by the gods, believe me, I’ve dreamt of this more times than I can count. It’s just...” His voice falters, fading into a quivering whisper. How could he possibly explain, without dying of shame, that his experience in pleasing a woman is limited to a few clumsy attempts at wooing the kitchen slaves back in Dunholm and a handful of hurried encounters in alehouses along the way? 

“Hey, look at me,” you say softly, cupping his jaw with your hands and gently pulling his face toward yours. Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and he shivers at the touch. “Sihtric, please, talk to me. I don’t understand.”

The tenderness in your voice, the warmth of your body pressed so close to his—it’s driving him mad, his cock getting painfully hard and pulsing in his breeches. Just this morning, he had chased his release with the thought of you filling his mind. And now, here you are, offering him something he had craved for so long but never truly believed he could have.

“I... I can’t taint you. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to disappoint you either. You deserve better than...,” his voice is barely a whisper, the words fragile as they fall from his lips.

“Why would you say that?” you ask, still confused, but then the realisation hits you just as the words leave your mouth. “For the gods' sake, Sihtric, if you’re worried about my maidenhood... I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you were thinking. And I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”

Silence descends between you. You slowly begin to let go of him, your hands sliding down the firm plane of his chest, but before you can pull away, he catches them. Gently, he brings your fingers to his lips, his touch tender.

“Then you can show me,” he rasps, his voice rough, “like with the dancing. Show me how to make you feel good.” He places a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver through you.

A quiet laugh escapes your chest as you slide your hand into his hair, pulling him closer. Sihtric moans softly as your lips meet, and when your tongue slips past his, his breath hitches, the sound melting into your kiss.

You look up at him, and in his large, dark eyes, you see nothing but a deep hunger intertwined with sweet nervousness and anticipation. A warmth blooms in your chest as the realisation sinks in—as much as he burns with desire to have you, this sweet, young warrior wants more than just a quick hump in a shadowed alley.

“Not here,” you whisper, taking his hand in yours and leading him away once more.

The moment the door closes behind you, your lips find his again, desperate and eager. Moonlight pours through the window, casting a soft, silvery glow across the room, its light almost ethereal, adding a touch of magic to the night. 

“You want to make me feel good?” you whisper against Sihtric’s mouth, and he nods eagerly, unable to part himself from your lips. 

You lean against the door and spread your legs, gathering the fabric of your dress up your thighs, lifting it as you gently guide Sihtric’s hand between your thighs to the heat of your naked cunt. He groans and you feel his arousal pressing against you through his breeches.

“Here,” you place his fingers at your pulsing bundle of nerves, brushing slowly over it. “Keep going. Easy, gentle. Yes, just like that,” you don’t even try to bite down the moan that rolls over your lips. His fingers tremble slightly, betraying his nervousness, as his lips softly kiss your neck.

Sihtric's breath hitches as his fingers keep brushing against your wetness. 

“You’re doing well,” you murmur softly, your lips hovering over his, giving him the encouragement he craves and guiding his hand more firmly between your thighs. “Don’t stop.”

With your guidance, Sihtric’s fingers begin to explore more confidently, his thumb finding your perl, pressing experimentally before circling in slow, deliberate strokes. Another moan escapes you, muffled against his mouth, and the sound seems to ignite something in him. He leans into you, his lips moving more urgently, his hand following the rhythm you set.

You press your forehead against his, your breaths mingling in the sliver of space between you. "Just like that," you breathe, your hips moving in time with the motions of his hand, your body already trembling under his touch. His nervousness melts away as he loses himself in the moment, his focus entirely on you, on making you feel everything he’s capable of giving. 

“Gods,” he whispers, his voice thick with awe as he watches your body react to him, the way you grind against his hand, your soft moans filling the room. His free hand grips your waist, pulling you closer to him, as if afraid he might lose contact with the heat of your body.

You can feel him hard against your thigh, his cock straining beneath the fabric of his breeches. 

“Good, you are good,” you breathe, leaning heavily against the door. Your hips start rolling against Sihtric’s hand, seeking for more friction. His breathing gets heavier with each moan leaving you, each roll of your hips. 

“You are so wet,” he whispers, nuzzling against the crook of your neck, as his kisses get sloppier.

“Put your fingers into me,” you murmur. He obeys, his thick fingers sliding through your folds to your entrance and dipping into your pulsing core. You both moan as your muscles convulse around his digits.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, his gaze fixed on your face, trying to read you, as he starts to move his fingers in and out of you, his thumb brushing against your perl. His attention is solely on you, his desire to please you, to do this right, to give you more than he thinks he can, is palpable in every stroke, every glance, every shallow breath. 

“It does, aaahhh, oh gods, it does,” you whimper, bucking your hips more frantically as you feel the familiar heat pooling in your abdomen, “Keep going, please just keep going. Don’t stop before I tell you,” you beg. 

Sihtric’s tongue starts licking wet stripes on your sensitive skin on your neck, he bites down gently on your collarbone, his tongue soothing the mark. His muffled moans are getting louder as he keeps moving his fingers, his self control fading as he starts grinding himself shamelessly against your thigh.

The pressure of Sihtric’s thumb on your perl is just perfect. His fingers slide in and out of you at a steady pace, making lewd wet sounds and driving you mad with want, every move bringing you closer to the edge. 

You gasp loudly as your climax washes over you, stars exploding behind your closely shut eyes. You buck your hips against Sihtric’s hand, and he breathes heavily in the crook of your neck but he keeps moving his fingers just as told, while you ride out your release. 

When you both finally still, your breaths come in ragged gasps, bodies pressed tightly together. Sihtric shudders with restraint, his weight pinning you against the door and you can still feel his hard length pressing insistently against your thigh.

His lips find yours again, stealing soft, lingering kisses as he fights to regain control. The last thing he wants is to spill in his breeches, but he's dangerously close, teetering on the edge.

“Come,” you whisper, gently pushing him back before moving toward the bed. With a fluid motion, you nonchalantly pull your simple linen dress over your head, letting it fall to the ground. Sihtric’s eyes never leave you, drinking in the sight of your bare skin. You are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“Come here,” you murmur, reaching out a hand toward him as you settle onto the bed, tucking your legs beneath you.

Sihtric pushes himself away from the door, stepping closer with a nervous energy. He quickly kicks off his boots and pulls his tunic over his head, revealing his perfectly sculpted upper body. You can’t help but marvel at the sight.

A hint of embarrassment flickers across Sihtric’s handsome, slightly boyish face as his fingers fumble with the stubborn laces of his breeches. His breathing grows ragged, frustration mounting as the laces refuse to yield to his shaky hands. You shuffle to the edge of the bed, closing the distance between you. His body quivers under your touch as your fingers brush over the taut planes of his abdomen, gently helping him undo the stubborn ties.

You pull his pants down to his knees and his cock springs free, rock hard and leaking. His breath catches in his throat as he feels your hand wrap around him, but you don’t stop. You stroke him slowly, his cock heavy in your hand, the heat of it sending a fresh wave of arousal through you.

You look up at him, feeling his body shaking. You let go of his cock to help him shed the last of his clothes, but as he moves to join you on the bed, his actions slow, hesitation creeping into his movements. His questioning gaze searches yours. You wrap your arms around his neck and gently pull him between your legs.

“I…,” he starts but you silence him with a kiss, your hand in his hair keeps him firmly in place as you guide his cock to your entrance with the other. 

He pushes his tip inside you, and the soft whimper that leaves him is so sweet and arousing that you feel your core start clenching around nothing. You wrap your legs around his waist and roll your hips against him, pulling him deeper, your nails dig into his back as you cling to him, your body on fire. 

Sihtric moans heavily as he finally sinks fully into you, his body trembling as though barely holding itself together. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if he’ll lose control, spill himself right then. But instead, he stills, buried deep inside, his forehead resting in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged, hot bursts against your skin.

“I’m so sorry, but I won’t last,” he murmurs, voice thick with both apology and strain, as though holding back is a battle he’s already losing.

You gently thread your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, your touch soft, soothing. “It’s all right,” you whisper, a quiet reassurance. You shift slightly beneath him, savouring the feeling of his weight pressing you into the bed, the fullness of him inside you. “Take it easy. You’ve already made me feel good. Now it’s your turn.”

For a heartbeat, it feels like time stretches thin around you both, the world beyond the two of you fading away. Then, with a deep breath, he begins to move, his hips drawing back only to thrust forward again, slowly at first, almost hesitant. But with each roll of his hips his movements become quicker, more insistent.

“Gods, it feels so good,” he pants, his voice hoarse with need, and you can feel the desperation in every snap of his hips. “You feel so good.”

You moan in response, too lost in the sensation of him, in the building pressure within you, to form words. The sound of your pleasure, the way your body arches into him, drives him forward, his pace quickening as he thrusts into you, each movement more confident, more urgent than the last. And it’s not long before his pace becomes relentless, and the room is filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, his ragged breathing, and your soft cries of pleasure.

Sihtric's grip tightens around you, his fingers digging into your hips as if he’s afraid to let go, as if holding on to you will keep him grounded. He buries his face into your neck again, teeth grazing your skin, his body trembling harder now. You can feel how close he is, the tension coiling tighter with every thrust.

But your pleasure is building too, a fire that spreads through your body with each movement. His every thrust hits deep, sending waves of bliss surging through you, tightening your core as you arch against him. 

You relish the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, the raw strength behind each snap of his hips. You can feel his need, his desperation, and the intimacy of it is intoxicating. The friction between your bodies is perfect, and you lose yourself in the rhythm, in the way he fills you so completely, as though you were made to fit together like this.

Sihtric falters at the sound of your moans, his movements more erratic now as his release approaches. You can feel the tension within him, and it pushes you closer to the edge, the pleasure swirling through you until it’s almost too much. 

"Sihtric," you moan, your voice trembling as the pressure builds inside you, your body begging for release.

He grits his teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you harder, his own breath ragged, on the verge of losing control. "I can’t... I’m so close," he pants, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, as your body tightens around him, your release already so close you can taste it. "I’m with you." 

His breath hitches, then, with a shuddering moan, he gives in. His movements become erratic, uncontrolled. A few more thrusts and he can’t hold back anymore, you feel his cock twitch inside you, as his release crashes over him. His head falls against your shoulder, his body trembling as he spills into you, the last of his restraint slipping away as he moans in the crook of your neck, his release sending you over the edge with him. 

The coil inside you snaps, and pleasure surges through your body, flooding every nerve with an intensity that steals your breath. A cry escapes your lips as you let the overwhelming wave of bliss consume your senses. Your walls tighten around him as your release pulses through you, wave after wave, making you arch into him. 

Your fingers clutch at his back, grounding yourself in the feel of his skin beneath your touch, in the warmth of his body pressed to yours. The world blurs, and all you can feel is him, until finally, the pleasure begins to ebb, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

“Did I hurt you?” Sihtric pants against your neck, his voice trembling, on the verge of breaking. 

“No, you didn’t,” you reply softly, a gentle laugh escaping your lips.

“But you screamed,” he murmurs, his breath shaky as he peppers your neck and collarbone with soft kisses. From the rawness in his voice, you sense he’s close to tears.

“Sihtric, no,” you quickly shake your head, your voice gentle but firm. “It wasn’t pain. It was pleasure. Pure pleasure. You made me feel so good I couldn’t keep it inside.”

Relief washes over his face, but there’s still a trace of uncertainty lingering in his eyes. You pull him into a tight embrace, and he hesitates for just a heartbeat before melting into your touch, his body relaxing against yours as if your arms are the only place he finds peace. He is still buried within you, his arms wrapped tightly around you, as though grounding himself in the warmth of your embrace.

You run your fingers through his damp hair, threading through the dark strands with gentle strokes. Your hand moves tenderly to his back, tracing slow, calming circles along his bare skin, the heat of him radiating into you. He feels so solid in your arms, and yet you feel it, the weariness, vibrating through his lean, muscular frame, in the way he clings to you—like someone who’s not used to being held, afraid this might be fleeting. 

His arms tighten around you as if he’s trying to commit the feeling of your warmth to memory, as though he fears you might slip away, leaving him with nothing but the echo of your embrace. There’s a tension in him, something almost heartbreaking, as if he’s still learning how to accept what has just happened, how to believe that this tenderness is truly his to keep.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. There’s something raw and unguarded in his gaze that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I’ve never…” he begins, but the words falter on his lips. He swallows hard, as if it’s difficult to admit. “I’ve never had anyone hold me like this. Not… like they wanted to.”

The confession hangs between you like a fragile thread, and in that moment, you realise how much he’s been starved of simple affection—of the kind of love that doesn’t demand anything in return, that’s given freely.

Your heart aches for him, for the boy who likely learned to be strong on his own, who never thought he deserved softness. You cup his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones, and offer him a gentle smile. “You deserve to be held, Sihtric,” you say, your voice steady, filled with certainty. “You deserve to be loved.”

He blinks, as if trying to process your words, like they’re something foreign to him. “I don’t know how to…” he trails off, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s admitting a weakness. “I don’t know how to be with someone like this.”

You shake your head softly, pressing your forehead against his. “You don’t have to know,” you reply, your voice filled with quiet reassurance. “Just feel it.”

His eyes glisten for a moment, overwhelmed by the simplicity of your words, the acceptance they carry. He lets out a shaky breath, his grip on you tightening again, but this time it’s different—it’s not out of fear or desperation, but something softer, something full of trust.

And when he leans in to kiss you, it’s slower, more tender, as if he’s finally allowing himself to believe that this—being held, being loved—is something real, something he can finally have.

“Next time, I’ll show you more,” you murmur, your voice teasing but full of promise. The warmth of your words stirs something deep within him, and he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief.

“Next time?” Sihtric asks, his eyes wide with surprise, almost as if he can’t quite believe the words. “You mean… there will be a next time?” The mix of hope and bewilderment in his question makes you smile.

“Of course there will be a next time,” you tease, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his face as you pull him closer. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily. You’ve fallen into my trap, and now you’re mine.”

His eyes search yours for a moment, as if trying to understand how he could be so lucky, and the smile that spreads across his lips tells you everything. 

Sihtric’s arms tighten around you, his forehead resting against yours. He doesn’t have to say the words aloud, because in the way he holds you, in the way he presses his lips softly to your forehead, you already know—you are his, as much as he is yours and your dance through life has only just begun.

[am-i-interrupting]

If you're still taking requests, can we get hazbin characters react to you asking them to dom you one night? Preferably the women but do it for whoever you'd like

Fuck. I just realized after I posted I read this wrong. I will do the correct one. I promise. I’m so sorry. I mixed up some words. Processing problems and all. This is:

Reaction to You Doming

(Part two— the boys)

Lute

She is resistant at first.

She shuts it down almost immediately.

It’s more so in a flustered way than a rude way.

She just sort of gets up, puts her hands up in surrender, and shakes her head as she walks away muttering, “No, no, absolutely not,” underneath her breath.

It takes her a while to build up enough trust and confidence in your relationship to allow you to dom no matter how much she may want or fantasizes about it.

Trust me, she fantasizes about it.

She’ll wake you up in the middle of the night whimpering in her sleep, telling you she’s been a good girl.

Or you’ll wake up with her having placed your hand somewhere on her body as she gets herself off, pleading for you to let her come.

Then, several weeks or maybe even months later. Maybe you’re in public, maybe you’re not but she’ll just casually walk by you and say, “You can dom tonight.”

She walks away before you can even process what she just said.

When you come home, she pulls you into a kiss immediately as she walks you both to the bedroom.

“Let’s talk about this first.” “Later. Please. I just— I need you to let me come and be your good girl.”

It’s clear she’s already partially in a sub space.

Not wanting to overstep her boundaries, you stick to doing just that.

You move so she’s laying with her back against your chest, her hands wrapped around your neck as you play with her clit and kiss her neck, whispering what a good girl she is as she whines.

When she’s close she starts muttering about how she wants you to make her take it.

You hold her legs spread out as she shakes and writhes.

Eventually you get to talk to her and set clearer boundaries but for now, she’s out of breath, panting against your skin, and slumping down into the safety of your embrace.

Rosie

Your sex with Rosie is by no means anything vanilla beforehand, it’s just Rosie didn’t have the terms to describe it.

Having come from a time where sex was not spoken of and was very much just a situation where the woman gives and man takes, she didn’t have any proper sex education.

After she does some research, she realizes what category your sex life thus far has fallen into.

She’s sort of taken on the role of a service too, guiding you, praising you, putting your needs before her own and expecting little in return.

She’ll gladly explore this with you.

She buys books on the subject, looks at all the resources she can.

She learns a lot and is nearly giddy with excitement each time she comes across something she thinks either of you will like.

She has a whole notebook filled with words, phrases, descriptions, and even gear that’s highlighted and underlined.

It’s not secret that Rosie is one for a bit of pain play. You’ve walked out of the bedroom covered in bite marks and hickies many times.

What she didn’t know was how much she’d be into knife play.

She never thought to bring a knife into the bedroom when her teeth and nails worked just fine but if you hold a knife against her throat, oh, she just melts.

She will just lean against you as you make her take her pleasure while whispering such soft works into her ear, in such contrast with the sharp knife against her neck.

If you bind her and give her oral? She will be nearly unresponsive with pleasure.

She does still live to please you.

She thrives when you guide her down to where you want.

You can basically puppeteer her, she’s so responsive.

She loves to worship you with her tongue and teeth.

She enjoys marking you as much as she loves being marked up in return.

Vaggie

“Oh, yeah, um, sure. We can. . . We can try that.”

Vaggie is sort of always flustered by the conversation of sex. She has no problems or qualms adoring you but when it comes to sex, she gets tongue tied.

She has a hard time expressing herself sometimes in any manner but especially when it comes to sex.

She’s much more confident and comfortable with giving to you than receiving.

It’s very much a situation where she feels embarrassed, like an imposter, getting love and lust from you.

When she’s between your thighs, she’s in a place even better than heaven.

She loves to give you pleasure with you explicitly guiding her.

She squirms when the roles are reversed though and you’re pleasing her.

When she tops, she normally gets herself to come with her own fingers or there’s a toy that’s being used. Rarely is it you and your fingers, your mouth, your touch that makes her come when she tops purely because she’s too embarrassed.

She tries to hide her face, muffle her voice.

She gets very whiny and flushed when you don’t let her.

Feeling seen by you makes her feel vulnerable and it’s not that she doesn’t want to be vulnerable with you, she just doesn’t know how.

Every time you praise her, she squirms and closes her eyes.

When you get her to look at you while you praise her, get her to look in your eyes, she never comes harder than those times.

She’ll see stars.

Velvette

At first she sort of takes it as a challenge at first.

Don’t go into the sub space.

She doesn’t like being vulnerable. It takes a while.

When you’re trying to please her, she’s going to automatically get into that commanding mode.

It’s not until you make her please you, directing her explicitly that she starts to drop that persona.

There’s something about you telling her explicitly how to tease you that just makes her more receptive to dropping.

Of course, when she’s topping, she will be using the information on how to make you feel the most pleasure against you.

When you do start putting her pleasure on the forefront of your mind, bondage and blindfolds probably have to come out or she will start to be bratty.

She either yanks on the bindings or she just slumps, hanging like a doll.

She will still be bratty no matter what you do though. It’s just a matter of how much.

When she’s giving you oral under your guidance, she will try to tease you.

A slap on her ass is normally enough to get her to stop though, if just momentarily.

If not, she’s reduced to a helpless mess if you start fingering her perky little ass though.

She’s actually big on anal and double penetration, be it vaginal and oral, anal and oral, or vaginal and anal.

She’s a cock slut.

[fiendishfables]

hello!! i saw ur blog and i was super excited to see another aroaceee is it alright if you do platonic adam x reader headcanons? he can be reader's friend, sibling, or preferably reader's father figure as long as its platonic, anything u'd like is fine! sorry if my request is kinda weird lol, i just haven't seen a lot of platonic hazbin hotel stuff (especially stuff with adam in it)

a/n: Always good to meet other aroace individuals, indeed. I personally love Adam, he is absolutely my favorite character. I’ve been dying to write for him more and thinking of him as a dad is just my favorite scenario-

warnings: cursing, Adam being Adam, brief mentions of sex, subtle hints at Lute x Adam (if you squint)

words: 944

additional notes: this was one of my first asks I ever got; I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. Enjoy~!

Adam as a Father Figure

Headcanons

First of all, he never expected to actually have a kid of his own, but now here he was

By the time you turned 6, you knew about every single curse word in existence, along with a (disturbingly) decent amount of female anatomy

Lute gets promoted to babysitter

When Adam is off performing with his band or needed in the council/other Heavenly resides, Lute is responsible for keeping track of his child

Even if she lost you (which she has, multiple times) he won't be that worried

You were a kid and as far as Adam knew, kids needed food

Hence how he knew you would find your way back to him eventually

Okay scratch that, maybe he does get a little worried...a lot

Starts to doubt his ability as a parent

Once he even got Sera to send out a search party for you because you had been gone longer than usual

It worried him sick whenever you went exploring, but he was almost a bit prideful that his offspring had managed to inherit his sneaking around capabilities already at such a young age

Lute has had to console her boss many times in response to your random disappearances under her watchfulness

He has legit been facedown on the couch with his head in her lap whilst he bawls his eyes out, blabbering to her about his worries pertaining to you, and then somehow that stems to his hopes and dreams in life (he doesn't wanna talk about it)

Only for you to walk in with food from some random location about 10 minutes later

You'd be on the floor as soon as you enter the domicile because Adam would have jumped on you and then proceeded to hug the very life out of you (all while stealing your bag of food in the process and running off with it)

Calls you a bitch, dumbass, and 'a little shit' for worrying him

Though he would never openly admit he had been worried

He doesn't care if you have a social life, he wants you home safe before 9pm, sharp

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Teaches you how to play guitar

He claims its because he wants to pass on one of his awesome talents to his only child, but he also really wants you to join him and his band on stage one day or another

You are in the starter stages of learning and are able to accurately get chords down and learn to read sheet music

A tear just may have come to his eye

The first song you two ever perform together is "Hell is Forever"

He did see someone try to give you a rose after your performance and nearly knocked them out

Trust him, he's a sex and relationship positive guy (for the most part) but he also can't help but feel like he wants to protect you at all costs

If you dare to call him over-protective, he will very gladly give you the silent treatment for a good 5 minutes

After that time mark, he will be groveling at your feet and whining about how sorry he is (rare that he actually says 'sorry')

His biggest fear is his own child having it out for him and not wanting anything to do with him

A clingy parent, no doubt

Wants to train you in the ways of becoming an Exorcist Angel

Poor guy is a bit insecure about everything and needs extra reassurance, though he would never ever outwardly ask for it

That's a sign of weakness in his eyes

Not for his child though

You come to him with even the smallest hint of watery eyes and he is already going full dad-mode

Determined to find the fucker who made you upset

Promises to give em' a good ol' kick in the balls (or vag)

Adam won't discriminate, he's just there to beat the ass of whoever hurt his precious baby

He will get in a fist fight with Sera in order to make you happy

Just expect to be the one he then blames when he gets demoted

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Adam totally took lots of naps before he had a child, so this just makes for the two of you ending up crashing on the couch together and creating a melodic tune out of your in-sync snoring patterns

Anything the two of you can do together without constantly arguing is a miracle, so this is to be cherished

He has definitely given you some very creative nicknames (as he calls himself 'Dickmaster')

Lute has taken many pictures

She wants to make a photo album and give it to Adam one day just to piss him off

But as she knows how much he really cares for you, she does not want to risk him growing apart from you due to something stupid she did for a few momentary laughs

Let's you two have your moments without interrupting

The two of you always fight over food and who gets to pick where you go for the evening, if going anywhere at all

Lute claims that you are making Adam all the more emotional, but no one seems to be complaining

Especially not the High Council

Its nice to have him shut his mouth for once and remotely think about his actions and who they could potentially effect

Adam has something to lose now, and everyone in both Heaven and Hell alike knew it

No demon spawn would ever get to set even a foot near you

You were the first life he felt truly responsible for

He refuses to fuck it up and lose someone else he cares about

He would protect you until the ends of time, whether you liked it or not

[canisalbus]

Would Machete and Vasco have any interest in learning a musical instrument? If so, what would they play? ( cannon or original)

I have been thinking about re-learning playing piano again, and it struck me that piano seems to be a instrument Machete could enjoy playing if he had the chance.

Do I get to pick any instruments I want for them? Even kind of unlikely weirdo ones?

Machete doesn't play anything in original canon or modern au, but if he did, I think the only truly correct choice would be pipe organ.

16th century Vasco can play lute a little bit! It's not something he's very enthusiastic about but it was part of his education. Maybe he'd be more into it in the modern times.

Or, alternatively, hurdy-gurdy, which has somewhat of a darker sound to it. I just think he'd look smashing cranking that big ol' thing.

[hells-wasabii]

Hello! Can I request Adam with an angel reader from the 1800s? :)

A/N: This was a pretty interesting one, I got to do a little deep dive on the 1900s, listen to some of the music from the time period, edit: and forgot to finish my authors note properly. Anywho, I hope you enjoy!

Character: Adam

Type: Headcanons (Adam x angel!reader from the 19th century, Fluff)

Adam was the first man and one of the first occupants of heaven. He's watched humanity grow, he's watched civilizations rise and fall You on the other hand? Not so much. While he's had almost all of eternity to keep up with the changes, you only had a couple of centuries. For you, it was still mind-boggling.

If you don't understand something new that just came out, he'll be right there to offer a crash course, he's always been pretty good at adapting, so it's okay if you're not. Now, that doesn't mean he'd be a great teacher. So if you're both stumped, you with learning and him with teaching, Adam would call in Lute and a couple of the other exorcists to help.

He just doesn't really get it, but you also don't really get his rock band. So if you support him in his passion for rock music, then he'll support you in keeping things old-fashioned around the abode.

Now when it comes to heaven as a whole, I firmly believe that there are little shops or even districts for specific time periods to cater to souls should they have any want for something that was around when they were alive. Whether it's food or trades, it'll be there. The rest of heaven stays relatively modern. Expect to have the occasional date there. He might not be particularly into

You were from a time that laid the foundation for the way things are now, and that's something you take pride in, so you bet that Adam would be there with you at any events centered around the 19th century.

When the two of you were just starting out, he might've decided it was a good idea to try to serenade you, only problem was he had no clue where to start when it came to playing that sort of stuff, so he might've had a little help in that department.

That's something that he'll continue to do as your relationship progresses. Sometimes, he'll be messing around with his guitar and just play a little bit of chamber music, or as much as he can of it by himself. If you tell him what your favorite song had been he'd go out of his way to learn it if only to watch your face light up. He was pretty great, wasn't he?

[writingquestionsanswered]

Do you have any advice for writing description if you don’t really have a “mind’s eye”? I really struggle because I have a really hard time thinking/imagining things visually. (I know visuals aren’t the only type of description you can include when writing, but I’d still like to improve at them.)

Three Quick Tips for Describing Visuals

Your character has just stepped into the throne room of a medieval castle. You have a vague mental image of what this castle and its throne room look like, but you have no idea how to go about describing it. So, what do you do? Here are three quick tips that will help you with your description:

1 - Gather Inspiration Images - Inspiration images are a great way to refine the picture in your mind's eye and keep details straight. Just go to your favorite search engine and plug in your keywords, then scroll through the results to find images that speak to you. Save them in a folder on your device so you can refer to them as needed. You may even want to create a "mood board" collage or a Pinterest board.

Example: "fantasy medieval throne room"

2 - Gather Your Vocab - Once you have your inspiration images in hand, you find it hard to put what you're seeing into words because you're missing the necessary vocabulary to describe what you're seeing. Fortunately, you can search for lists, diagrams, and labeled images that will tell you what things are called. If you need the door into the throne room, try looking up "door styles" or "types of doors." If you need to describe the throne, try looking up "chair styles" or "parts of a chair."

Example: "parts of a castle" & "parts of a throne" 3 - Gather Your Other Atmospheric and Sensory Details - Next, you want to consider the atmospheric and sensory details, then gather your words. What can the character see? (What color are the stone walls? Is the air hazy? Are there flickering candles in wrought iron torchieres?) What can they hear? (Are voices echoing through the cavernous hall? Is there lute music playing?) What can they smell? (Is there wood smoke from the torches on the walls? Is there the smell of roasted meat wafting from the kitchens?) What can they taste? (If they're nervous, do they taste bile in the back of their throat or salt from their sweat?) What can they feel? (Is the throne room warm from all the people? Cold because it's cavernous and stone?)

Example: "shades of the color gray" & "words to describe smells" Have fun with your story!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[thelostgirl21]

When you realize that Prince Radovid attended his sister-in-law's fucking funerals with his glass of wine.

Literally, Radovid's whole coping strategy at court...

I'm starting to think he's got pockets inside that cloak to hide glasses and bottles...

Then, there's the fact that even when he's not downright hiding in a corner somewhere, he'll apparently choose a spot to stand where he'll just... blend in with the freaking decor!

Yes! A red banner flanked by two brown walls with golden highlights... Perfect!

He's basically a Wallflower that fell in love with a Buttercup, I swear!

Also, I've just noticed that little step back and bow he makes with his head when Yennefer curtsies as she approaches the king in the first gif, while King Vizimir doesn't even acknowledge the gesture at all.

So now, I imagine Radovid being the kind of king that will just bow back to everyone bowing to him because it seems like the polite and courteous thing to do.

At some point, we'll just learn that he was so bad at "being a prince" that he never really bothered learning the proper court etiquette and customs himself. He's just always gone with whatever people seemed most comfortable with, and copied them to a slightly lesser extend.

You want us to hold hands? Bit unusual, but sure! Why not?

Meanwhile Philippa looks like she was going to tell Jaskier to back off (probably used to being around King Vizimir that wouldn't let anyone he doesn't know touch him) but then saw how eager the prince was to make physical contact and chose to let it play out.

Then, this happened...

And Prince Radovid was so secretly relieved to have found someone even more confused about the proper way to socially interact with people than he is, that he decided they should definitely get married.

It was love at first "What the fuck am I even doing?" "I've no idea! But your hand is very warm and you've got gorgeous blue eyes and great tits." "I've been holding your hand for a very long time, I'm so sorry about that." "It's fine, I'm still holding your lute..."

[gothlute]

Since you said it was okay to send you asks about Lute (and I really wanna talk about her ajshgs): do you have any headcanons for her as a character, fallenwings and/or guitarspear? :)

Also, as a doodle idea: fallen angel Lute!

I love this so much!!!!

Okay so the fallen angel Lute doodle will be done a bit later since I ordered a graphic tablet and I wanna draw it on it. I'll tag you!

Ive already made a post about Guitarspear headcanons too :D I might post more if I get ideas!

___________________________________________

Lute headcanons.

• Metalhead & likes goth music

• Had an emo phase, obviously, tho she won't admit it

• She's REALLY into music, either listening to it or making it. Adam and her make music together! She can sing and kinda play drums (tho she's a begginer)

• Her favorite bands is Type O negative

•Her favorite colors are black and red

• Super picky eater, and so is Adam

• High IQ, and possibly autistic, she gets told to get tested a LOT but she doesnt want to

• Is SUPER good at make up, she does her eyeliner super fast

• Very very good at strategy games. She's overall very smart and learns fast. The kind of kid to learn how to read super early and then get pissed at other kids because they can't do it

• Super serious most of the time, but the most unhinged mf with Adam because she trusts him deeply. She actually makes almost as much dirty jokes as him when it's just the two of them

• Both bi and homophobic : she was raised in a SUPER religious family and feels attraction to girls but is deeply ashamed of it.

• Had a situationship with Vaggie, but had too much internalized homophobia for it to work. She's SUPER bitter about it

• Pretty interested in mythology

-She's pretty muscular and very strong, she works out a LOT and pretty much all gay exorcists have/had some sort of crush on her (and everyone's aware of it except for herself)

• Wears a band shirt and black sweatpants like 50% of the time when out of uniform

• She would LOVE the Saw movies. They have gore, interesting lore and she'd love to learn about all the traps (she would wanna try them on demons LMAO)

___________________________________________

Now let's dive deeper into the Lute and Vaggie part.

Fallenwings headcanons (sorta)

!!CW interalized homophobia

I don't believe Vaggie and Lute dated. I do think they had something going on though.

To begin with, I think Lute is bisexual, with INSANE. amounts of internalized homophobia and religious guilt. She's plain homophobic, and thinks it's a sin, while ignoring the part of her that likes it. It has been easy at first because she wasn't into ONE specific girl.

But when she started liking Vaggie, everything was way harder. Her feelings were too hard to ignore. She felt genuine physical attraction, to the point where training with her was getting hard. Everything was complicated.

And Vaggie felt this way too. She started flirting with Lute, and even though she felt painfully guilty about it, she gave in.

They kissed a copious amount of times (never in public), slept together almost as much, and genuine feelings were developping for both of them.

But Lute's self hatred was only getting worse, and it was getting in the way. She would rather die than make their relationship official (though let's be honest you'd have to be blind to miss the sexual tension during training), and Vaggie had to constantly remind Lute that it was okay, that it didn't make her a sinner.

She didn't believe it.

She sometimes pushed Vaggie away when she initiated any contact, even chaste and friendly, and got very cold and disgusted to talk to her. Because after all, she's gay.

Vaggie tried to be as understanding as possible, but it was getting too far.

Her and Lute got into an argument.

Vaggie was like "this is stupid, you insist that we hide when we see eachother, you seem uncomfortable and it's clear that you don't really like me SO we should probably just stop". She wasnt that mad just a bit annoyed and sad

Except Lute took it very badly, and got VERY defensive and mad, because Vaggie was right. She got mean and lashed out on her, Vaggie left and they just...stopped talking

Basically, Vaggie thinks Lute used her to "try it with a girl" while Lute had actual feelings, and she HATES Vaggie because she let her see her weaknesses and thinks she's disgusting for making her fall for her!! She was a lesbian after all.

+ She betrayed heaven and it was OVER. It was the proof Lute was waiting for, proof that Vaggie was just a filthy sinner, disgusting, that she deserved to rot in hell, and that Lute's little phase was over, probably a test from God she passed.

Sometimes, Lute still dreams of the filthy sinner, of her sweet words and the warmth of her embrace. She still feels all warm when seeing two girls kiss, she still gets jealous. But she knows better than to indulge in those feelings now, she's a warrior.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 30: Alexander's Rules

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: captivity, mind control, hypnotic language

Oliver followed Lord Alexander into the most beautiful room he'd seen so far: the music room. A grand piano stood in the center, the mess of sheet music on its stand indicating that it was actively played. There were a few more bookshelves -- nary a corner of this house without them -- but some of the wall space was taken by hanging instruments. Violins, some sort of lute, some other stringed instruments Oliver couldn't name. He was pretty sure that was a harpsichord on a dedicated stand. In the corner was a lovely guitar, with a second, empty guitar stand next to it.

"Do you play anything, Oliver?"

"No, sir." He'd never taken much of an interest, never had the time for music.

"Well, if you'd ever like to learn, let me know. It's a good way to pass the time. But please don't touch any of the instruments without permission. Some of them are very old and precious to me."

"Yes, sir." Another rule. One that was easy enough to follow -- but he worried. He had a question he wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if he should, given the result of the last one.

Well, Lord Alexander didn't seem to regard questions as disobedience, even impertinent ones, so...

"Sir, may I ask something?" he said quietly. "If I were to break a rule -- I don't want to break a rule, of course, sir, I want to be obedient -- but if I did break a rule, how... how would I be punished for that?"

He winced, hoping it wouldn't be something cruel. But Lord Alexander just looked a bit confused. "Punished? No, there won't be any punishments."

"No punishments, sir?" he said, not understanding.

"You're not going to break any rules, never on purpose. You don't need to worry about it."

Oliver wasn't at all sure he liked the implications of that answer. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean that I'm not in the business of doling out punishments. There isn't going to be any need." Lord Alexander moved past him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Let's move on to the main event. Something I'm sure you'll enjoy."

Oliver followed after, not sure what to make of it. Obviously, he would prefer to not have to live in fear of physical harm, or the more generous privileges he was being afforded taken away... but the way Lord Alexander phrased it, Oliver simply wouldn't ever break rules, maybe wouldn't even be capable of considering it. Was that true? Was Lord Alexander that confident in his complete obedience? That thought bothered him less than he should, that little voice in his head coaxing him to be a good and perfect thrall.

His fear and doubts were swept away by the final room Lord Alexander showed him.

The library was filled with the sweet smell of old leather and aging book bindings, spanning an entire wing of the manor. The bookshelves stretched up two stories, with scattered wheeled platforms and ladders to allow access. A stone fireplace was embedded in one of the walls, and in the center of the room, in a clear space unoccupied by stacks, were a few brown leather armchairs and couches. Further back, there was a large desk covered with a cluttered mess of pens and stationary.

It was a breathtaking display, many times as big as Oliver's cramped shop, containing more books than Oliver could read in years, maybe in a lifetime. His concerns about being held captive here immediately began to ebb.

"Does it please you?" said Alexander, clearly already knowing the answer.

"Yes, sir, very much so." He dearly hoped this wasn't a bait and switch. "I can read here?"

"You can read anything you like, as long as you don't remove books from the manor and don't leave a disorganized mess. But I believe you already know how to treat valuable books, and all of the truly dangerous volumes are safely locked away," he said. "I know you've been through a lot in the past few weeks. Why don't you pick out some reading material, peruse the stacks? Would you like that?"

"More than anything, sir," he said, eager to dive in. He truly did feel fortunate to have been purchased by Lord Alexander now. The fact that he would be allowed to spend his free time reading from a nigh-endless, heavenly library seemed too good to be true.

"Very good. I have some work to do, anyway." 

Lord Alexander sat down on one of the couches and picked up a pen and a ledger as Oliver ran his eyes over the shelves, not sure where to even start. He turned back to ask Lord Alexander, but he seemed already engrossed in his work.

It didn't really matter, though. He was going to be here for a long time, and that thought seemed far more bearable now that he was in the library. He marched over to an interesting looking shelf, and quickly realized that even though the bulk of the titles were in English, he didn't recognize a single one of the titles or authors -- surprising, given his entire career was based around finding obscure books. They seemed to be historical accounts, but the events listed on the spines weren't any he recognized either, like he'd fallen through a wormhole into an alternate world.

"Oh, that shelf is all vampire history," said Lord Alexander, not looking up from his ledger. "I don't recommend it unless you want to fall asleep reading self-involved petty drama." 

"Well, sir, if it's all the same to you, I didn't know vampires existed up until a few months ago, so that sounds fascinating."

"Suit yourself," he said with a little smile. He kicked back with his work, humming to himself, a low and pleasant tune.

Vampire history! Despite Lord Alexander's dismissive comment, that made him want to read it all the more. He eagerly pulled down one of the books and skimmed through the contents. It was dryly written, certainly, mostly politics among various clans and families, but he'd never known any of this was happening. When he reached a chapter about conflicts with a prominent witches' coven, he had the immediate instinctive reaction that this must be embellished, that witches weren't real - before reminding himself that he was reading a book written by vampires in a vampire's personal library. Witches must also be real. Magic was real. What else was real?

Despite his intense interest in the supernatural world that now surrounded him, he felt himself yawn wide. He was suddenly so tired. The book really wasn't that dull, and he hadn't been awake for that long, so -- the stress, perhaps? The fear? He rubbed at his drowsy eyes. What was...?

As he grasped the bookshelf, trying to steady himself, his gaze flickered over to Lord Alexander. The vampire was no longer writing in his ledger. He was looking right at Oliver. Looking, and humming. 

That was what was stealing his focus, that was what was making him feel so strange. "What are you doing, sir?" he asked.

Lord Alexander said nothing. He kept humming, weaving his song around Oliver, and Oliver felt drawn to it. He let go of the bookshelf and took a few steps towards him, a helpless sleepwalker, unable to drive the fog from his mind.

He wavered only slightly, swaying on his feet, before sitting down next to Lord Alexander on the couch, turning to face him, leaning into that voice, that song. Lord Alexander hooked a finger under his chin, coaxing him closer, directing Oliver's gaze into his eyes. Oliver was diving into the sea, night swimming under a full moon, treading in warm water, quiet and serene. 

"Slip under my control. Nice and easy now, Oliver," murmured Lord Alexander. "Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Drift."

Oliver could feel the tension and fear of the day leaving him with every breath out, his shoulders relaxing. Lord Alexander kept singing to him softly. He could listen to the sound of it forever.

"You're mine now, Oliver," said Lord Alexander. "I'm your master."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, his conditioning locking his answer in place. "I wish to obey."

"I don't need your obedience."

Even in his daze, Oliver's face scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Obedience is a cheap thing. It can be bought with fear, force, and money, and lost just as easily," said Lord Alexander. "What I want from you runs a lot deeper than that. Trust. Loyalty. Loyalty as deep as the sea and reliable as the tides. I want you to fall and know that I will catch you. I want you to be in near full possession of your faculties and still choose me without hesitation or wavering." Lord Alexander was examining his face, seeking something. "But you don't trust me yet, of course. Why is that? Be honest."

"...Because you're a vampire, sir."

Lord Alexander seemed amused. "There is that, although I think that's hardly the worst of my flaws. Tell me, though, what's truly holding you back? What do you fear?"

Oliver felt as though it were being pulled from him by Lord Alexander's spell. "That my life will be over here, sir," he confessed. "That I never did any of the things I planned to do someday, and now it's too late, because I'll never leave this manor again, or do anything without your permission, sir. And I'm at your mercy, sir, and you could remove my personality or my memories, or do whatever else you like..." A few hot tears rolled down his cheek, and he was too captivated still to wipe them away. 

"So that's it," said Lord Alexander, under his breath. "It's not going to be like that, Oliver. Your life is far from over. I don't intend to confine you here permanently or control your every whim. And I don't intend to erase your personality or memories, either."

"You don't, sir?" said Oliver, surprised.

"No, I don't. That's why I'm asking for your loyalty. So I don't have to control you with tedious blind obedience. So that you can continue to think for yourself."

"I see, sir."

Lord Alexander moved in closer, his blue eyes flooding more of Oliver's vision. "I'll make sure that your service to me is fulfilling. You have nothing to fear from me." He began humming again, swaying in time with Oliver, and Oliver was once more enraptured, soothed, losing himself.

"Fall, Oliver," he said quietly. "Fall, and trust that I'll catch you."

Oliver felt some deep, hidden part of his mind become untethered from its moorings, and he fell, sinking deeper and deeper into the warm ocean water, the moon shimmering on the surface above him. "Yes... Master."

"Good, it's starting to take." He sounded pleased, which made Oliver feel comforted and safe. "Can you trust me now, Oliver?"

"Yes, Master," he said, with no hesitation this time. 

"Good, good, that's very good. You're doing excellently, Oliver. I'm just going to take your mind, just for a brief moment. I'll treat it very gently, and then give it back to you. You can sleep through the whole thing."

Lord Alexander's eyes were filled with meaning, a clarity of purpose that Oliver hadn't known. It was as though he'd spent his entire life sleepwalking, waiting, keeping himself for this, his true purpose that he only now understood. He was wanted. He was needed. He'd never been either before, not since he was a child.

His master was singing to him again, and it was making his eyelids droop, a lullaby and a promise. Oliver tipped forward, so drowsy, his head coming to rest on his master's shoulder. He felt a cold hand work its way into his hair, a sweet and comforting gesture as he fell ever deeper under his new master's spell, right where he belonged.

Part 29 >> Masterlist >> Part 30.5

Thank you for reading this story about an entranced man.

An extra you may have missed: Fitz's Waking Nightmare

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable

[scekrex]

Adam X Male Reader. Who's been cheated on, in the past and is slowly starting to trust Adam more as time goes on.

Okay okay okay hear me the fuck out: they both struggle bc both Lilith and Eve left him and they both had something with Lucifer (Eve presumably cheated - in this fic it's implied that both cheated on Adam to spice things up a lil)

There's a darkness at the heart of my love, that runs cold, runs deep

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt, cheating (mentioned)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

When Adam decided to play a role in your silly little afterlife and you realized that you wanted him in a way that you’ve only ever wanted one person before, the sweet taste of your platonic relationship soured. You had developed feelings for the first man, that you couldn’t deny any longer, but you hated yourself for it - because who were to promise you that he wouldn’t fuck with someone else while dating you like your ex partner had done? The only person who could do so was Adam, yet you had learned the hard way that many promises people made - winner or human didn’t matter - were empty.

They told you what they thought you wanted to hear to simply get their way and while you wanted to trust Adam, and maybe your heart already did trust his sugar coated words, your mind strongly disagreed and doubted every little promise spoken by him - not just by him though, your mind told you that every promise was just a bunch of empty words, that way you were keeping yourself safe, you protected yourself from getting hurt again.

Adam, on the other hand, felt similar. He had been cheated on twice, back in his early days as a human, back when he had blindly trusted Lucifer’s and Lilith’s words, back in Eden when Eve had promised him that she and Lucifer were just friends. But they had been so much more than just that - just friends weren’t fucking each other. The two women that had been created for him and only him had turned against him and chosen someone else, why shouldn’t you do the same? God had never truly intended for Adam to date guys, hadn’t he? Yet you were there and Adam wanted nothing more than to call you his. But surely a person who wasn’t even meant for him would leave him just like the women did that God had created for him. They had been meant to love and desire him, but they hadn't done so. They had crushed Adam’s heart, shattered it into pieces and stepped on the shards until it had been nothing but dust. And then you had been so quick to glue the tiny pieces back together, you had fixed something deep inside of him without even knowing it but there was the risk of losing you again - he told himself that if he’d keep himself distanced, it wouldn’t hurt as much. That was bullshit though and deep down he knew that.

And then there was Lute, she was not only Adam’s lieutenant and best friend, she was also the self claimed couple therapist Adam and you desperately needed. So when the three of you sat in the living room of the house you and Adam shared, and Lute waited for one of you to begin talking, you took that chance, “What if his promises of staying forever and not fucking someone else are empty?” You felt a little bad, voicing your thoughts so harshly with Adam sitting right next to you and you noticed how he flinched a little at your words, how his wings rose a little to hide himself behind them. Lute tilted her head a little, “Why would they?” And to that you had no answer so you remained silent while Adam’s curious eyes were watching you carefully from the side. “I’ve known Adam for a long while now,” Lute continued, she gently placed a hand on your knee and your eyes met hers. There was honesty in those golden orbs of hers, honesty and made your concerns seem so unwarranted. “He has never looked at someone the way he looks at you,” you turned your head towards the first man, the man mumbled something inaudible but nodded - he was not used to being so vulnerable, to talk about his fears openly. “What if he fucking finds someone like Lucifer and decides to fucking drop me like those whores of ex-wives did?” Lute sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose, “Look at him, he’s seen your crybaby tantrums and yet decided to stay - he’s not gonna leave Adam.” And while Lute’s words were true and both of you logically knew that the other wouldn’t cheat because they know what it’s like to be on the other end of it, it wasn’t that easy to change an entire mindset.

It would take a lot of time and work, even more energy to fix the both of you. But you and Adam were willing to work this through. Together, side by side and hand in hand. And maybe one day the both of you wouldn’t have to struggle with that fear anymore, today was not that day though.