#i refuse to draw his scarf

[head-empty404]

me when.. when uh...

if it wasn't very clear already, i really like dr gonne

bonus self ship doodle below:

he won't leave my head but i'm not complaining

[aieevee16]

Cirrus had me at whip point until I had this idea made :')

[intotheelliwoods]

SPLIT PEA????🥺AAAAH ThATS SO GOOD. Split pea soup even!!!!!

congart @intotheelliwoods !!! 4000 is big and thinking about that many people makes me nervous lmao

[flseur]

꒰ 𐙚 warmth — satoru gojo ꒱

⟡ synopsis : with each new year spent together, satoru just can't help but fall in love with the warmth you give him.

⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, fluff to smut, cursing, doggy, little bit of rough sex, praising, little bit of overstimulation, gojo cums inside !

౨ৎ note : an intimate new year’s eve with spent with satoru, isn’t he just so dreamy ? love my king

if there was one thing satoru gojo could always truthfully say, it was irrevocably in love with you. he adores everything about you, down to the simplest of mannerisms that you have.

the way you do your hair, smooth out your clothes, make your morning tea, just every little thing that you do he adores.

satoru wouldn’t utter any of this outloud to suguru and shoko out of fear of embarrassment, but the two are able to see through his facade.

the way that he talks about you, brags about you and even the way he completely ignores any attention that he draws in from people when he goes out in public.

you’d think that due to his past of being a player, he’d enjoy the attention he gets but no. he’s absolutely smitten for you, and you only.

though he does make cheeky jokes about how lucky you are to have him, but he knows it’s the opposite. he’s lucky to have you.

and here you both are now, out on an evening walk during the winter. you’re bundled up because satoru insisted, mumbling about how he didn’t want to take care of you if you caught a cold while he wrapped you up in a knit scarf.

you’re fiddling with the black wool of the scarf with your left hand while your right is preoccupied with holding satoru’s hand.

“i still don’t understand why you forced me to wear this,” you mumbled before glancing over at him. “it’s not that cold out tonight. i would’ve been fine with just my jacket.”

satoru rolled his eyes and let out a little sigh, “i did tell you why, y/n. you just chose not to listen to me.”

“well, what was your reasoning?” you said.

“i said it was because if you caught a cold, then it would be up to me to take care of you.”

you let out a huff of annoyance, the warmth of your breath making a little foggy cloud in the cold weather. “you wouldn’t have to take care of me, satoru. i’m a grown adult. i can take care of myself, y’know?”

“i know that i don’t have to, but i would want do it,” he squeezes your hand. “because i know that you’d do the same for me.”

satoru thinks back to all the times when you’d take care of him, both before and during your relationship.

having to deal with him during late nights when he would show up to your apartment drunk or the one time he came down with the flu. 

you stayed with him until he was completely better, refusing to leave every time he said it was okay for you to go back home and that he’d be fine by himself.

but you knew he wouldn’t.

you knew that he’d still be shriveled up in a ball on his bed, wrapped in blankets and not get up to eat a real meal. 

you knew that he would live off of instant ramen and energy drinks and you didn’t want that to happen, so you stayed.

and now, satoru wants to be that person for you.

he wants to be able to stay by your side when you’re sick (though he’d very much rather you not get sick, so he goes through all measures to prevent that) and he wants to be there for you.

he wants to take care of you just like how you took care of him all those times before.

you let out a laugh, one that satoru was addicted to hearing.

“you’re so cute, ‘toru. i like it when you talk about caring for me.” you give him a warm smile.

he gives you a light bump on the shoulder with his own, before trying to hide his own smile in his jacket.

“uh, hello? aren’t i supposed to care about you? you can’t even let me be the world’s best boyfriend in peace, can you?” he jokes in an attempt to hide that he’s flustered. 

his cheeks flush a brighter pink and you know it’s not from the cold weather.

you laugh more at your boyfriend’s embarrassment. “you should be glad that geto and shoko aren’t here to listen to you! they'd get to see your soft side!”

gojo dramatically sighs, before lifting your right hand and presses a soft kiss to it.

“you’re unbearable…” he mutters against your skin, then letting your hands reassume back to they originally were. “let’s head back to the apartment, it's way too cold out…”

"''kay, are you gonna warm me up, 'toru?" you tease, entirely not expecting him to take the joke seriously.

"you'll see, princess."

and it's private moments like these that you enjoy with him the most. whether it be taking a walk while it snows or having your limbs be tangled in the sheets with his own.

"o-oh, shit, satoru..." you moan out, burying your face deeper into the mattress.

he had you on all fours with your ass up in the air while his thick cock was pistoning into you at an unrelenting pace.

his had one hand gripping at the fat of your hip, the blunt tip of his nails digging almost painfully into the skin, while the lithe fingers of his other danced up the beautiful arch of your back.

"feels good, baby?" he groans, biting his lips.

"yesss, feels s'good!" your words slur, your mind is invaded by the thoughts of satoru.

the feeling of your tight pussy constricting his cock is driving crazy. each snap of his hips delivers overwhelming amounts of pleasure and elicits your cries.

the scent of sex, the sound of skin against skin, and the conjoined moans shared between the two of you permeate your bedroom. every thrust of satoru's is accentuated, calculated, and deep, so deep that you swore you felt him in your stomach.

"so deep, oh m'god..." you mewl, fucking your hips back onto him. you were desperate for more, you needed that one thing to push you over the edge, to finally feel bliss.

reading your body language, as well as hearing your whimpers, satoru pulls completely out of your sopping heat, the tip of his cock resting right outside of your pussy.

you were about to ask him what he was doing before you yelp in surprise, feeling him abruptly shove his entire length back inside of you.

"fuck! love you so much, sweetheart. love this pussy so much..." he babbles, continuing to fuck into you so quickly that his balls slap up against your clit.

"i-i'm g'nna cum... just like that satoru..." you wail, cunt squeezing his length impossibly tighter.

"yeah? cum all over my cock, princess. make a fucking mess." gojo growls, reaching around your waist to pull you up, your back pressed against his chest.

he presses open mouth kisses to your neck, moaning against the skin, while one hand pinches at your nipple and the other one slithers down to your pussy and plays with your puffy clit.

satoru, satoru, satoru is all you could think about as you orgasmed. your arousal coated his cock and your inner thighs as your vision blurred white and ears rang.

and though he didn't want to push you too far, satoru couldn't help but indulge himself in your heat for a bit longer.

"'m almost there, baby... did so good for me." he moans, kissing your temple as you moan out. crystalline tears line your eyes due to overstimulation, he felt so fucking good, too good almost.

you could feel his cock twitch inside of you and his hips stutter against your ass. "cum inside... please 'toru, need you inside..." you whine.

"oh, fuck!" satoru cried out, placing his forehead against your forehead and his hips finally stilling as he stuffed your pussy full of his cum.

"love you s'much..." you whisper, your hands coming up to brush his white strands of hair.

"i love you too..." he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade.

flseur © all rights reserved, do not repost, take inspo from my layouts or themes, translate, or claim as your own.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Exhausted, Papyrus fell on his knees in the dust. It was covering everything in the room, from the floor to the ceiling. The main door was gone, like most of the windows. Thankfully, no monster tried to enter the balcony, too high. Papyrus crawled to pick up the door, still in one piece by some miracle, and put it in its place. The hinges were gone with a part of the wall, but he forced it to hold by nailing it with some planks that held the windows closed and was now on the floor.

He picked up his phone, hidden deep in his armor. His hands were still shaking with the adrenaline. Sans left about twenty messages, asking if he was fine, then warning him Frisk was gone, then asking him again if he was alright, more and more distressed as the hours went by.

Papyrus simply sent: "Alive. Frisk here." before walking to the kitchen to make sure the child was fine. Several bullets ricocheted against the closet door, but it faced the brunt efficiently. He cleared the chairs out of the way and opened the door, maybe too brutally.

Frisk screamed out of terror and threw themselves in the back of the cabinet. They curled up on themselves, hands on the head, sobbing uncontrollably. They were shaking as well.

Papyrus flinched. He saw himself at five years old, in the same position, as Sans was screaming and fighting for their lives in the living room. This was not a world to grow up. No child should ever be born in this hellish place. Bitter, he felt his soul squeezed painfully. It was his fault. He should have brought the child back to the Ruins. Frisk shouldn't have assisted to any of this.

The skeleton kneeled at their level. He never had been really talented to comfort people.

"Frisk? It's over, they're gone. You can come out."

He leaned a hand towards the human. Frisk kicked it away and tried to get as far as they could from him in the closet. Papyrus tried to stay neutral, but his face betrayed for a few seconds how much it hurt him. He didn't want Frisk to be scared of him. Not after everything they went through to protect them.

The skeleton looked around for a second and noticed a hole in the closet door. Small, but enough for a child to witness everything that happened outside. Frisk saw him slaughter attackers and end monsters on the floor without mercy. Papyrus felt guilty. He gave the child some space and sat in front of the closet, unsure what to do.

No Weakness, Chapter 3.

_______________________________________

Hello, hello!

I commissioned this masterpiece to @seirindono, a French (yeah, team French!) illustrator who works on a multi AU universe called The Missing Scarf, which is a banger. Really cool comic with lots of great characters that you really want to read. Go read it!

I wasn't sure on which fic I wanted a drawing at first, but since we already got one for Horrortale: Rotten Apple (thanks again Zeragii, love you), why not No Weakness?

It's a post-pacific Underfell fic where instead of breaking the Barrier, Sans refused Frisk to fight Asgore and brought them back in safety to Toriel. Now Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, Toriel and Sans are hiding the child away, trying not to get killed.

The story however is about Undyne and Papyrus' friendship. After Papyrus surprises Undyne kissing Asgore, he is promoted to general of the Royal Guard. Except Papyrus knows something is really wrong here, since that role was obviously supposed to Undyne's. But the more he tries to understand, the more people try to dissuade him from learning more. All the hints lead to Asgore, but how to reach the monarch without getting himself killed, and by extension, those he cares the most about? Between his duty and his friendship, Papyrus will have to make a choice.

I asked for one of my favorite parts ever, which is the moment Frisk realizes how things really work in Underfell, after witnessing Papyrus committing carnage right after he got promoted to General. It's tradition :D

Anyway, if you want to read the story, it's right here. I'm on summer break right now, but new chapters are coming soon!

Thanks again to Seirindono for their amazing work, I love it so much <3 Really great artist, don't hesitate to commission them! They're really nice and pays great attention to details. It was really cool collaborating with you <3

Go send them some love!

[felibrary]

╭──╯GOOD DAYS | even as the snow falls atop his hair and the colorful fireworks launch in the distance, sylus can't help but keep his eyes off of you.

pairing: sylus x reader (gender neutral) | content & warnings: just some toothrotting fluff, bit of banter and bicker, reader is implied to be shorter than sylus, possibly ooc sylus | wordcount: 1.1k ; ficlet

author's note: this is based off his nightplume card with my own little add-ons lolll (also i don't even play lad anymore..so if you see any mischaracterizations here..yeah..)

A/N: Loll finally posted again and it's lad haha, enjoy!!

"sylus, i'm cold."

your boyfriend raises his brow and sighs, having the audacity to act disappointed. "i've warned you about the cold weather. should've listened to me about wearing a scarf," he smirks while you on the other hand only huff, frown deepening.

"well, i didn't know it'd be this cold," you shudder as the snowflakes meet your nape and slowly dissolve.

you're pretty sure you look absolutely ridiculous right now — with a runny nose and a hoarse voice complaining about something you're at fault for, to sylus who simply enjoys watching your dilemma and chuckles in amusement.

there aren’t often moments when sylus feels at ease, always on the lookout if something happens to you when he isn’t around. but he knows that if he stays by your side there won’t ever be something bad happening to you — he makes sure of that and instead decides to enjoy these simple but meaningful moments with you.

so maybe these little moments make him pay less attention to his surroundings than usual, oblivious to the snow that gets stuck in his hair and you can’t help but cackle a bit. “what?” he asks curiously. “there’s snow in your hair,” you point out. sylus’ gaze drifts up for a split-second before smiling and lowering his head. “help me,” his voice is soft as he requests you to help him.

even through hands covered in mittens, you can feel how soft sylus’ hair is, you play with his hair for a bit, rubbing your hand over his head before finally brushing the remaining snow out. “be careful, even a crow can turn into a dove in this weather,” you smile. “a crow? what a funny thing of you to say,” sylus returns your smile before turning his head away from you to look at the fireworks and so do you.

the fireworks are pretty, magnificent even. they vary in size, motive, and color but despite all of that each of them is unique and beautiful in its own way, making it unable to rip your eyes off them..besides maybe one exception.

not even a moment later, the exception in question turns to you, expectant ruby eyes staring down at you before swaying his gaze down to the snow-covered railing, smiling. "want me to draw you?" the turned-up collar of his stuffed leather jacket rises and falls along his neck as he exhales.

you follow his gaze and scoff. "sylus, what are you up to," you mutter under your breath. he doesn't respond, instead his gloved hand meets the metal railing before slowly tracing circles in the snow, and soon after you're able to recognize what he drew — a cat.

“seriously? a cat? i thought i’d at least be something more intimidating like a tiger,” you complain in faux offense. sylus only hums “do you know what you look like right now?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond before tracing lines onto the cat’s forehead.

"like a tiger that meows when it opens its mouth," he says, voice laced with sarcasm. upon seeing it, you can't help but crack a smile. "you're so stupid," you express with a shake of your head. "says the stubborn one who refused to dress warmly," he huffs before turning away from you again.

those ruby eyes full of danger and a lust for adventure soften upon seeing the shower of fireworks being cast in the sky. a mixture of bright red and blue colors paints the sky and casts a light shadow over sylus’ figure. 

you playfully roll your eyes at him, grinning as you scoop some of the snow off the railing. “sylus, you still have snow in your hair, want me to get it out for you?” you offer, a sweet smile gracing your lips. “what, you want to deepen our relationship? but if you insist,” he smirks before lowering his head.

you reach forward and unlike sylus’ expectation your hand lands on his cheek, making his eyes widen in surprise while you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the giggle you’ve been meaning to let out ever since you got the idea. sylus shoots you a boyish smile before flicking his fingers against your forehead which catches you off guard. “unprompted benevolence wasn't out of the kindness of your heart,”

before you’re able to process what’s happening, sylus pulls you into a tight embrace, strong arms snaking around your waist and holding you closely to his chest. "sylus let me go, i can't see the fireworks" you muffle into his jacket. "mhm, but weren't you the one who was complaining about the cold just now?” he says absentmindedly and you gaze up at him as he turns his head to the fireworks. 

his eyes find yours again, ruby eyes locking with yours as he gives you a mirthful smile. i'd rather not let you be exposed to the cold again" you glare at him which seems to amuse him even more because his next move is to pull you closer than before. (which you didn’t even know was possible from how close the two of you were already.)

luckily he lets you go soon after and you breathe in relief and observe him curiously as he pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket — a scarf. you gasp in surprise. “you had a scarf with you all along?” you ask him dumbfoundedly, not sure whether to be grateful for having something to warm your neck which isn’t sylus’ biceps, or if you should feel betrayed that he hid it from you.

“i’ve had a hunch that you’d forget yours in the rush, always so forgetful.” he smiles softly before wrapping the scarf around your neck, twice around your neck, and once around your.. eyes? “sylus, i swear to god.” even with your eyes covered beneath the wool scarf you can practically see sylus smirking to himself. “fine, fine,” he mutters, smiling before removing the scarf from your eyes.

the scarf sits nicely around your neck and not to mention it’s very comfortable and keeps you warm. you exchange glances with sylus before turning your attention to the fireworks again. 

from beneath you, on the riverbank, a bunch of people are lighting up their fireworks before watching after them as they fly into the distance. your eyes follow the fireworks as they light up the night sky and their reflections shimmer on the surface of the river. “the fireworks are so pretty, aren’t they?” you turn to sylus, expecting him to watch the fireworks too, instead you find his ruby eyes fixated on yours. 

“yeah, they really are.”

TAGS: @azullumi we're just gonna ignore the fact that this is dedicated to you and your birthday you oldie gramps of a geezer which was one week ago.....but anyway although i don't want to repeat what i said in my birthday letter (which you haven't read yet LOL) i want to tell you that in such a short period of time you've grown to a person I've learned to love so easily as if it were naturally - which it is. you're so loveable that it makes me wonder how anyone could ever hold a grudge towards you? you're the sweetest soul on earth and i wish i would've been there for your birthday to congratulate you in person but well beggars can't be choosers. azul, you're my soulmate and i appreciate everything about you and everything that you've done for me. i love how clear and easy our communication is, i love our little playful banters that other people find questionable and i love that people associate the two of us together, even when it means mistaking us for one another, which just proves how close we even appear to other people. you're the embodiment of lovely and loveable to me. i love you to death azul and once again happy birthday! <3

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[nu1lst4rs]

doodled human designs for nightmares gang!

click for better quality

ggrahhb. i love them. will draw individual refs soon. promise. cross has jumped between nightmares gang and star sanses, and therefore is considered a neutral outcode in our au. so ill draw him later.

horror fws the trans community

Star sanses, neutral aus (p1), neutral aus (p2), extras

some headcanons under cut 3_^

warning there is alot of text

> nightmare (they/it)

DESI NIGHTMARE!!!! (this is blatant self projection.)

short. but they always manipulate their height when they're outside of their gang because they hate being short.

chubby because its ass is not used to actual food, and they have a really slow metabolism when it isnt negativity. and now that horrors "forcing" it to eat, they gain weight. fast.

intersex. not sure why i think this but they don't really have a sex, so. erm.

^ adding onto that their fluid in their expression. sometimes masc, sometimes fem, sometimes andro.

has those stupid ass hair curlers and uses leftovers for their tentacles

MATCHING NECKLACES WITH MY OTP AT THE CURRENT MOMENT. usually errormare or bsp. sometimes fluffynight. killermare if nihira is fronting.

also sugar daddy nightmare. its either rich as fuck or have no money at all. (this is kindve a crack hc)

> Dust (he/they)

leaning korean and thai mix for him. because i need to see more mixed characters.

wears pjs whenever he can. gets the most fucking stupid pj pants too. like hello kitty. comfort > style.

always dusty. mostly because he doesn't shower and smells like ASS, but also because they gotta live up to their name somehow.

TRANS MASC. dont care if you say its wrong. EVERYONE IS TRANS. (excluding horror and blue. allies!)

aroace spec 100%. most sanses are, but him in particular. would rather die than do any of the sappy bs. but wouldd love to have a partner. or maybe 3. wink wink.

"2 shorter than killer but gaslights killer into thinking he's taller

doesn't wear papyrus' scarf, but keeps it in his sleeve.

> Horror (he/him)

wanna hc him as native american. but i haven't exactly thought much about what in particular.

tall and bulky. after a lonnggg famine, horror developed an ED. where they stress eat until he's physically ill, or feeling less stressed.

doesn't need the bandages on his face, bur keeps them there because he hates the scar

little big bottom teeth. its something he developed due to the food conditions in HT snowdin.

as much as it happens, horror HATES having blood on him, so he wears an apron underneath his clothes and does the laundry often.

PROSTHETIC LEG!!!! it got stuck in a bear trap when he was in his old au, and alphys didnt really know what else to do. its not the best thing, but its reliable. killer likes to put stickers on it.

has a cleaver named maxine, and an axe called rex.

ace because i dont really think. yeah. gross. ew. intimacy.

> killer (he/they/it)

arabic. its almost canon at this point.

has a selection of knifes in his thigh thing if his magic backfires on them. favourite is its butterfly knife.

is legally blind. his ass CANNOT see. refuses to admit this.

acespec because like look at me. he can barely feel. i just think he'd love the idea of being in a relationship, and desperately want one. but know he cant be in one.

scars galore holy shit. is always somehow simultaneously sloppy and precise with his knifework. him and nightmare have a small rivalry to see who can get the most.

needs to have textures on his clothes. something to ground themself. like "oh shit we're dissociating." rubs pants aggressively. works for us.

transb... transverse...

also DID but this is hinted at in canon

HUh. okay wow that was alot. cres shut up about utmv for 5 seconds (IMPOSSIBLE) (I DIED AFTER 1 SECOND). anyways THANK YOU!!! i will post and draw stars and neutrals tomorrow maybe. just after some sleep because it is 2am. bye everyone 3.<

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.˚✩ Bloodlust 𓆩𓆪

𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡��𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

@milliesfishes 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!!!

Billy knew what was wrong the moment he called your name, unbuckling his gun belt and expecting a warm welcome home after a tiring day. All he got was a weak mumble from some room in the small house.

“Honey?” He called, hanging his hat on the coat rack, his boots thumping on the wood floor. Billy’s forehead was creasing. Well, he wasn’t expecting a king’s welcome, no red carpet or nothing, but he was a bit spoiled by you to expect a hug and kiss hello.

Billy realized your voice was coming from the bedroom, “Here,” you croaked. When he stepped into the doorway, he stopped in his tracks a moment.

There you laid, ever-beautiful, on your side with both hands tucked between your thighs. Your cheek was in the pillow, your usually entrancing eyes hollow as they lifted to meet Billy’s. “Hi.” You murmured, watching as Billy crossed the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He twisted to look at you, his calloused hand smoothing back your silky hair.

“Hey, baby doll..” Billy cooed, brows slightly lowered. His azure eyes darted over you almost frantically. “You okay?”

He knew the answer. He knew you were lying as you nodded that pretty little head of yours. He felt a bit sick looking down at your state.

“When’s the last time you ate, huh pretty girl?” Billy hummed, trying to keep his tone as lilted and cheery as he could manage, like he was talking to a sick kid. His expression betrayed his worry for you.

You shrugged lamely. Your lips moved silently for a moment, eyebrows pinching, before you spoke, defeated. “A few days.”

“How many’s a few?” Now, Billy couldn’t keep the distress from his voice.

“Five.” You breathed, you let your eyes flutter shut. You hear Billy click his tongue against his teeth, open your eye a crack to see him shaking his head at the window across from the bed. He sighed your name.

“What? I didn’t want to go out and— and hurt anybody, so I just put it off. I’ll go hunt when—“ Billy cut you off firmly.

“When y’cant move?” Billy hissed, the hand on your head moving down to the outer cusp of your shoulder. You opened your eyes, making eye contact as he told you off. You knew he had good intentions, he always did, but you were defiant above all else. “Or is that already happenin’? You were just gonna wait ‘till you’re too weak to even fix your lips to ask for some help?”

“I don’t need help. I’ll go tomorrow.��� You huff, and Billy shakes his head. You had to admit— he was hot when he was angry with you. His nostrils flaring, brows thick and drawn low, eyes intense.

“No. No, you ain’t puttin’ this off any longer.” Billy fumed, breathing out like a bull through his nose. He shakes his head again as he makes quick and messy work of the bandana around his collar.

Only Billy could get mad that you weren’t taking care of yourself the way he would.

Your brows draw together, your hand moving to his forearm in a moot attempt to stop him. “Billy, no.”

“Yes.” Billy’s tone was firm, his expression serious. He wouldn’t budge on this, would he? But you wouldn’t let him win.

“I’m not feeding off you.” You hiss, but you can’t stop him from tossing aside his neck scarf and unbuttoning his collar. He clocks the way you swallow hard. Fuck all, he just smells so good.

The moment he walked through the door you were reminded of the dull, aching pang of hunger in your stomach. Billy’s scent was intense, overpowering, tempting. Even when you weren’t so starved. So unbelievably difficult to refuse, and he was just making things harder for you.

Billy gently took hold of both your forearms, lifting you to sit upright beside him. You were so weak that you leaned against him, his arm curling around your torso and holding you upright. “C’mere, c’mon.. Up y’go, baby girl.” You bury your nose in his shoulder, feeling awfully dizzy— dizzy with weakness, dizzy with that awful, gnawing hunger, dizzy with the smell of Billy.

“C’mon, baby.” Billy cooed, his hand not supporting you gently cradling your head and bringing it closer to his neck. He hoped you didn’t clock the way he swallowed hard. “You need it.”

“I won’t.” You breathed, but your voice wasn’t very assured. You sounded more like you were convincing yourself as much as him.

Billy wouldn’t have denied his nerves. You’d never fed from him. You swore you never would. But he was asking you to, he knew that you needed blood now. You were his top priority. So he disregarded the wavering of his hand as he stroked your hair, feeling your nose against his neck. “C’mon. Just a little. Just so y’can have energy t’hunt.” Billy assured you. “Please, baby, you’re scarin’ me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, you’d never forgive yourself. But you gently rubbed your nose to his neck, letting out a shudders breath. “Just a little.” You murmured. Billy nodded. But he knew he’d let you suck him dry if that’s what you needed.

He’d do anything for you.

You opened your mouth, your pearly fangs sinking into his neck and piercing the skin. Oh, the moment you tasted him, you were a goner. You could hardly think. Your mind was him, fully and utterly him, no room for anything but him.

Billy groaned in pain, his face screwing up and his hand tensing in your hair, but not pulling. It was such a strange feeling, such a draining and achy sensation. But it was helping you. You gained the strength to reach your hand up to tangle in his dark hair, your free hand resting gently over the opposite side of his neck. He tasted delicious, like a drug you couldn’t get off.

A grotesquely intimate thing, it was. A macabre, romantic thing, that Billy trusted you to take only what you needed. A morbid pleasure in drinking him in, the taste of his blood like crimson ambrosia on your tongue. More intimate than an ‘I love you,’ he’d dare say, though he knew he wouldn’t ever stop saying those words. More intimate than sex, though you knew you’d never get tired of his touch.

You were lost in it. His pained grunts and whimpers were the only way you could pull away from him, the only thing that could permeate your bloodlust-hazed mind. He grunted your name in a wavering, low and pleading voice.

You were careful to lick over the puncture wounds, sealing the wound and staunching the blood flow. Your hunger was barely satiated, but it was enough to feel alive again. You rested your forehead on his shoulder, licking your lips and wiping your chin with your knuckles.

“God.” Billy breathed, a hesitant hand coming to brush over the marks you’d left in his neck.

“There wasn’t anything holy about that.” You murmured bitterly, panting against his shirt, watching as the blood dribbling down your chin dripped onto the bed sheets. Billy turned his cheek, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Don’t care.” Billy says into your hair, his voice low, gravelly and masculine. “You feel better, baby girl?”

You couldn’t deny that you did. Oh, you hated yourself for it as you nodded against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You whispered, your voice meek and broken.

With surprising strength for a man whose mind was reeling from blood loss, Billy wrapped his other arm around your middle and pulled you into his lap, your legs across his. He looked up at you, those blue eyes filled with something you dared to name worshipping. “Don’t say sorry. I wanted you to, remember?” Billy pressed a kiss to your jaw, letting you thump your forehead against his.

Delicately, he swipes his calloused thumb across your chin, wiping up his own blood. “I love you, Billy, I love you.” You murmur, your brows drawing together in guilt. He simply couldn’t have that.

“I love you.” Billy cooed, his nose nudging yours affectionately. He pulls you into a loving yet chaste kiss, not torturing you with another taste of him. You were infinitely grateful, your fingers gently massaging his scalp. He leaned into the touch. “I’d do it again. If you wanted me to.”

“I wouldn’t.” Your reply was firm and instant. Billy nodded after a lingering moment, nosing your cheek. His eyelashes brushed against your skin and tickled you.

“I ‘least taste good?” Billy let out a breathy chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, as always. A faint smile crosses your lips.

“Delicious.”

[itsguysnightitsironic]

Curse of the Nitghborne.

Guys, I haven't had time to play a lot, but I think the god of this land MAY BE the bad guy, but don't listen to me much.

Get up, folk! Flor did another Curse of Strahdanya crossover after Derek mentioned Lethica fused with Strahdanya as one throw joke in a stream!

The style is indeed inspired by the great art in Hades (the videogame), and the background is by Hades II.

The drawings without text:

Also, this was written at four in the morning, and I refuse to correct my insomniac ramblings this is the beta experience:

Lethica Nightborne as Strahdanya

----LORE------- In Barovia, a land of the dead, of suffering and grief, a new god has appeared out of nowhere covering the land in an eternal night... Of happiness? Lethica Nightborne, known as the Divine, has presented herself as the saviour that the land needed it, for what seems like decades. Her light, her kindness, her power, has changed the region and the hearts of the people to their core, as the land has been reborn... As there's new blood... But of course, you can't blame the nature of evil, so there's still death, suffering and pain in Barovia, but of course, our saviour, our dear wife, cleans it as she chooses. And if she asks for a sacrifice, of course, we will bring it to her, if she asks for the firstborn of every family, we will name the second after her, and if she asks that we take care of her dinner guests, we shall take care of them. -----DESIGN------- All I knew of Lethica was that I wanted her to wear a veil, and she couldn't only be a countess but a whole god, the saviour of Barovia. The churches don't talk about sun gods, only of her, their lady of dark, their god. Her dress comes from mixing Stradhanya's and hers, ending in a very 19th figure, with a bit of Mesopotamian fashion (the metal belts and sleeves with the double skirt) to show her as a figure of the past, as somehow older than she appears. Of course, she had to have some kind of knife so a knife fan, and a cup to show wealth and power (her cup is always full, full of what? Well, if you look at the very pale man under with not a lot of blood left-)

Marius Renathyr as Victoria Issacs

-----LORE------- Marius as a man of Ilmater seems to be QUITE interested in Barovia, a land of suffering and grief, to the extreme that seems too personal to just be a missionary mission to conquer pain. The university doesn't trust him completely, but somehow, even as a new member of the university and resident of Druskenwald, Marius had found a way to get the vote of everyone involved and the funds for the crusade. But what would be the real reasons for such travel? Or... WHO is the real reason? ------DESIGN ------ Inspired by the old missionary ropes of the 1800s and the typical vampire hunter, Marius stands as a very weird-looking holy man. From Victoria's design, we get the rosary turned into this over-complicated necklace and the ropes around his hips that reference the bloody ropes of Ilmater. (Victoria's, and now Marius, god.) And his sword has turned into a cane. (a cane with a blade.)

Yorgrim as Silas "Shepherd" Morgan

-----LORE-------- From the depths of Yona, a mercenary is invited to participate in an expedition to a land of death and suffering. He accepts stating that he has other business in Barovia and he could be glad to accompany the group under the condition he would work in peace when need it. Of course, he refuses to say the kind of work, you know, "professional privacy policy" and all. But by his reputation... It can't be good... -----DESIGN------- I was going to go with a funeral worker, but the scarf with teeth appeared and it changed the vision. The design takes more inspiration from Shepherd than Yorgrim, with the hunter theme, with the shotgun filled with blue magic and a list of hunts on red clay (that would be broken when the hit is eliminated.)

Briggsy "The Kutlass" Kratch as Professor Clayton Azran

LORE------- Briggsy may take the role of the professor, but he's not the expedition's leader. He's contracted by the University of Druskenwald to keep an eye on Marius (since the university is suspicious of the holy man). He accepts, without even wondering or caring what Barovia is, only happy to finally obtain a title under his piracy by the lords of Druskenwald. (He's getting paid to be a pirate, oh the dream!) DESIGN------ With his design, he was the last one and I was VERY tired, so... It's something weird? You know, a pirate trying to look like a "noble man". (but he's very much failing, he looks like a maniac I think)

Jericho Sticks/Virgil as Sarnax of the Edelwood

----LORE----- The cult of Gherix initially refused the university and the idea of letting them explore the runes in their forest. Until they accept but a month away from the expedition which is extremely suspicious. When the group found themselves in the forest, there he is, Jericho, a sacrificial figure of sticks and straw offered by the cult as a guide. (Of course, the poor, only brought to life months ago, strawman is a sacrifice in the name of Gherix that, by burning in Barovia, will give the god control over the whole region. / Indeed, Virgil is now Gherix we get an asshole god, give it up!) -----DESIGN----- Inspired by Wicker Man (giant figures of sticks and straw with animal sacrifices that are burned during Celtic rituals such as the Beltane.) Jericho is turned into a sacrificial figure who will burn when it's necessary by the light that keeps him alive.

Farryn of the Hartsblight as Kana Soyokaze.

-------LORE------- It isn't clear when or how, but Farryn ends up getting involved with the expedition. As a storm in sea, one day, the swordswoman appears out of the blue stating that she's also trying to find her way into Barovia. The deer refuses to explain her business with the "Divine" of all people, only holding her katana with anger and sadness, but she's clearly not looking to make friends. (She ends up being friends with the whole party.) -------DESIGN----- Based on the Sika deer (a Japanese deer), the design lingers more around the fusion character while keeping Farryn's figure, with the open skirt covered by her leg armour that goes up to her hips and the war paint, fur, and bone that stays in view.

[sodaabaa]

to flee or not to flee, part three

anthony bridgerton x OC what happens when a charming and determined viscount courts someone whose worst fear is to marry a man like him?

tropes: damsel in distress, innocent and shy mc, slow burn,

tw: mentions of domestic abuse, angst, anxiety, slight misogyny/patriarchal concepts

masterlist

“Mr. Carrington, Miss Carrington, you have a visitor.” 

Annalise looked up from her book to her brother. 

“Who is it?” He asked.

“Lord Bridgerton, sir. Shall I send him in?”

Her brother only nodded. 

Annalise cleared her throat, sitting up straighter suddenly acutely aware of her appearance. She pulled at the scarf around her collar, ensuring it was properly secured before the viscount arrived. Her brother had confronted her rather harshly about Lord Bridgerton’s abrupt proposal, believing it was her who had exposed Thomas to the viscount. She swore on her life she did not. He refused to believe her. He stormed out of the house to relieve his stress, no doubt with drinks and women. It wasn’t until he came back home from the gentleman’s club where he overheard a few men talking about Lord Bridgerton’s inquiries about Thomas, that he believed it was not Annalise who revealed his treatment of her. Thomas admittedly did believe it was a fine bargain – no dowry and a hefty payment to rid himself of Annalise. He told her he would accept the proposal, should the viscount show a continued interest in Annalise. She was not sure if she should be relieved of her brother’s approval of the proposal. She still did not know what to make of Anthony Bridgerton.

As if on cue, there he was. His presence filled up the room instantly. Her skin prickled and her stomach twisted. No rational woman could deny his beauty, like that of a greek statue with his chiseled jaw, deep brown eyes with his brow always set in a furrow and his lips…She cleared her throat, snapping herself out of improper thoughts. She did not want to think of him as anything but another man, another cage – rationality be damned. 

“Good day, to the both of you.” He spoke, his voice booming through the rather small drawing room. 

“Good day. What brings you here, Lord Bridgerton?” Her brother said.

“I would like to extend an invitation to the two of you to join my family and I on our trip to Aubrey Hall, our country estate.” He glanced at Annalise, noticing her silence since he arrived. 

“That is generous of you, what has spurred such a decision?” Thomas asked.

“I thought it may be a welcome respite from the ton. And, of course, you and Miss Carrington would get the chance to see the grounds that she may become viscountess of.” He replied diplomatically. 

Thomas smiled, pleased that Anthony wanted to continue his courtship of Annalise. 

“Well,” Thomas clapped, “in that case, I believe it would be a welcome respite. Annalise, go prepare your bags for the trip.” 

Annalise stood, curtsied to the viscount and her brother, avoiding any and all eye contact with the former.

“I am pleased you will be accompanying us.” Lord Bridgerton said, his eyes trained on Annalise. 

She looked at him through her lashes, “thank you for thinking of us, my lord.” And with that, she slipped out of the room which grew hotter with every passing moment. 

A trip to his estate? Annalise did not know what would result from this trip but she hardly thought it could be anything good. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The town of Mayfair passed by in a blur as Annalise looked out the carriage. Brick townhouses, giggling groups of ladies, the booming laughter of men all sped by. Annalise felt as though she were being shipped off to a butcher. Thomas sat across from her, muttering to himself and checking off items on one of his many lists that helped him keep track of the estate's affairs and finances.

There’d be no fighting it now she thought to herself. She had been invited by the Bridgerton family to spend a week at Aubrey Hall. The looks of envy and wonder could barely be held back when she stepped out of her home this morning. She was now all but betrothed to the viscount. She supposed the week couldn’t be all that bad, after all, there’d be a plethora of people to keep her company. The viscount’s seven siblings would be accompanying them and nearly half of them were girls. Anthony had made them seem charming and mischievous in their own right. Perhaps she may have a pleasant time if she could spend most of it with the Bridgerton siblings as opposed to the viscount himself. 

The sun had now reached its peak and their journey nearly halved since they left early this morning after her viscount’s visit. Her leg began bouncing, her hands growing restless. No amount of fiddling with lace or threads could calm her nerves. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to steady herself. 

“Annalise! Calm yourself. You mustn’t let the Bridgertons see you in such a state of disarray. Have I taught you nothing, girl?” He barked.

She released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Apologies, brother.” 

Annalise would simply have to wait until she had a moment alone to indulge her emotions.

As she stepped out of the carriage, assisted by her brother, she took in the massive home before her. The building itself was made of gray brick, with four large roman columns at the center, bookended with large domed roofs on either side. A breath caught in Annalise’s throat as she marveled at the stately building. Should she choose to accept Lord Bridgerton’s proposal – which seemed imminent – this would be her home. Miles away from her brother and assuming the viscount’s duties would keep him busy much of the day, she’d have this home all to herself. With no one to fear. She had to admit, perhaps this could be a suitable arrangement for her. 

“You are a sight for sore eyes, Miss Carrington” the viscount appeared before her suddenly, before she had the chance to collect her thoughts and steady herself. She curtsied, stumbling on the way up, still off balance from his sudden appearance. He had quite the presence, always abrupt, sudden. Leaving just as fast as he appeared and leaving her dumbfounded quite often. He reached out an arm, placing it on her elbow gently to steady her.

“Thank you, my lord. I admit, I am not well acquainted with lengthy carriage rides.” 

“No matter, I am sure you will grow accustomed as you journey more frequently” he said brows raised, alluding to his assumption of her acceptance.

“Ah! You must be Annalise, I am so delighted to finally meet you, my dear” a sweet, round faced woman pushed herself past Anthony and towards Annalise, immediately grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her in for a hug. Annalise’s eyes widened and her lips parted but before she could say anything, another woman with chestnut brown hair matching the viscount’s sauntered up to the group.

“The Miss Carrington! I must know all the details on your first dance with Anthony. Did you abandon him because he is a bore? Or did he pester you with his list of interview questions he believes will find him the perfect wife?” 

“Eloise! That is hardly an appropriate way to introduce Miss Carrington to this family. Have you no decorum?” Anthony huffed, grabbing the girl’s arm and moving her out of the way.

“Please excuse my sister, she can be quite… spirited, at times.” 

As if the crowd could not get bigger, two men, one with the same chestnut brown hair while the other had unruly curls in a much darker shade, approached them.

The darker haired one spoke first, his eyebrows raised in amusement, “well isn’t this quite the party. If you are to marry into this family, shall I suggest drinking a few lemonades before arriving at a function in which the entire family will be in attendance?” 

“Benedict!” The other said, to which the dark haired one – Benedict – simply shrugged.

Annalise could do nothing but stare at the commotion, a plethora of emotions overwhelming her all at once. Before anyone else could join in, Anthony cleared his throat and motioned for his family to give Annalise space.

“I think, the Carringtons would appreciate some quiet and the chance to settle in before you lot begin your chatter. Please, excuse their excitement” Anthony said pointedly. He offered a hand to Annalise and pulled her away from the bustling family, her brother following closely behind. Annalise sighed, secretly relieved at his intervention. 

“Your family is quite the unruly bunch, Lord Bridgerton. A bit of discipline would not hurt” Thomas said, looking back at the family in judgment. 

Annalise fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Discipline” was what Thomas called his fits of rage, hiding behind pretenses of doing what he thought was best for Annalise. “Shaping” her into a woman of manners and decorum. Instead, it made her flighty, anxious, and quiet when she had once been a curious and talkative young girl. Like a bird meant for flight having its wings cut, leaving nothing more but a decoration.

Annalise felt Anthony’s arm stiffen in response to her brother’s suggestion. 

“I do not agree, Mr. Carrington. My family is one of the ton’s most respected and it was not discipline that made it so, but my parents’ upbringing of their children.”

“I only mean to say that a man’s duty-”

“A man’s duty is to protect those under his care.” 

Thomas went quiet behind them.

As they made their way inside, Annalise looked up and once again, marveled at the sight of the grand home. 

“You have a beautiful home, Lord Bridgerton” she spoke softly, hoping to change the topic of conversation before things became heated between the two men.

“Thank you, I do hope you find your stay enjoyable despite the introduction you just had” he smiled.

“Your family is charming, my lord. I do think they were simply excited at the prospect of having a guest” she said graciously. Although overwhelmed by the boisterous family, the fondness they had with one another was not lost on her. 

“I’m glad you think so,” Anthony smiled. 

Behind them, Thomas cleared his throat to signal his presence.

“Right. Mr. Carrington, your room will be up the stairs, down the hall to the left and Miss Carrington, yours will be next to Eloise’s on the right side of the hall upstairs. I have sent for your luggage and it will be brought over as soon as everyone makes their way in” the viscount explained. With that, he took off, leaving Annalise and her brother to find their rooms no doubt to reel in his family and perhaps give them a scolding or two. 

After Annalise found her room, she shut the door with an exhale. She took in the room, various shades of blue and gray decorated the room. In the center was a bed with dozens of plush pillows. Annalise all but threw herself at the welcoming sight, landing in the middle of the carefully arranged pillows. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths to steady herself. She was not used to this much attention, she wished she could simply disappear into the wall. This week would require all of her strength. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Brother, is Miss Carrington to be our new sister?” The youngest of the Bridgerton clan, Hyacinth, wondered aloud. 

“Hyacinth!” Their mother called out, reprimanding the young girl’s forward question. 

“Sister in law, Hyacinth. That depends entirely on Miss Carrington herself. Perhaps you might convince her.” Anthony replied, the corners of his mouth twist upwards, giving his youngest sister a wink. He spoke to his sister with such fondness, it made Annalise’s chest tighten. 

Annalise took a moment to survey the dining hall to distract herself from her melancholy. The candles placed throughout the table gently lit the room, making the hall feel smaller than it was, more intimate. Porcelain china with delicate floral patterns was placed perfectly in front of each setting. As her eyes made their way around the room, her eyes landed on the viscount. Annalise had not given herself a chance to properly look at the viscount this evening. He sat at the head of the table while his mother sat opposite of him. Was he used to this? Being the head of his household? Or did he find it troublesome? He took the mantle on quite early in life, did he ever get used to it? To her, it seemed he made a perfect viscount. His siblings adored him, his mother trusted him to make wise decisions. Would his wife do the same? Could Annalise find herself trusting the viscount, loving him?

“Of course, Annalise would be honored to join your family, Lord Bridgerton. What more could a young woman ask for?” Thomas said, looking to Annalise for confirmation.

“Yes, of course. It has been a privilege to be courted by Lord Bridgerton, he is too kind” she said, trying her best to remain as vague as she could for as long as she could. Anthony only nodded, his lips set in a tight smile. Not the answer he was hoping for, she assumed.

“Do you read, Miss Carrington?” One of the Bridgerton sisters asked, Eloise, she recalled.

“I do, in fact. Reading takes up a great deal of my time – there’s always some topic that plagues my mind for weeks at a time until I grow tired of it and find the next.” 

Eloise smiled at her response, she opened her mouth to say something but before she could she was interrupted by Anthony.

“Is your mind still occupied with the Renaissance, or have you found your latest obsession, Miss Carrington?” 

She turned back to the viscount, “I am still very much occupied, I have yet to find a chance to discover any new books, my lord.” 

“We have a very big – and very unused library, Miss Carrington, I am certain you may be able to find something of interest there” he replied.

“I’d be more than happy to escort you after dinner.”

Annalise hesitated. She did not want to spend any time alone with the viscount.

“Perhaps another day, I’m sure you are tired from your travels, my lord. Thank you.”

Before he could reply, Annalise turned to the viscount’s mother and his siblings, “enough about me, tell me about yourselves. What is it you all do in your spare time? It must be a great deal of fun to have such a large family.” 

“Fun is one way to put it, I suppose,” Benedict said dryly.

The eldest of the Bridgerton sisters was the only one to provide a proper answer, “well let’s see, Benedict here is a budding artist. Collin has been traveling lately. Eloise is…well, Eloise. Francesca plays the pianoforte– 

“Rather exceptionally, I might add” Anthony cut in.

“Yes, she is quite good. Hyacinth and Gregory are typically occupied with their studies.”  

“And you, your Grace?” Annalise asked.

“Oh, please call me Daphne and nothing more. I suppose much of my days are filled with being a wife and mother” she looked fondly at her husband, the Duke of Hastings, sitting across from her. He returned her affection, the entire night it seems he could barely keep his eyes off her. 

“Of course,” Annalise smiled at the couple. She marveled at the siblings. They each had the freedom to pursue their pleasures and what their hearts desired. They were quite the family, Annalise had to admit. Was this the viscount’s doing? He undoubtedly bore the brunt of the labor to allow his siblings such pursuits. Every passing moment that she spent with the Bridgertons chipped at her determination to not marry. Would she be capable of holding to her beliefs by the end of this week?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After dinner, they all retired to their rooms – a break Annalise was much grateful for. She could not fathom how she could make it through this week if she could hardly get through one dinner. Perhaps a distraction is what she needed to pull through. The library she thought to herself. There was bound to be a book in there that could keep her grounded. The sun had set and everyone had gone to bed, she doubted there’d be anyone roaming the halls – and even so, she knew how to keep quiet and hide. 

Annalise slipped from her room, down the grand stairs in search of the library. The darkness blanketing the entirety of Aubrey Hall posed a challenge to her search but she persevered regardless until she was confronted with two large doors, one slightly ajar – inviting her in.

She creeped inside, peaking in to ensure no one else was present. Once she was satisfied that she was alone, she walked over to the nearest bookcase which held at least a dozen rows of books. Each row had been meticulously labeled with a category. History of the Americas, History of Great Britain, History of… this bookcase seemed to be dedicated to histories, Annalise skipped down to the next. 

“Miss Carrington?”

“Oh!” Annalise startled, dropping the book she had picked out.

Anthony came forward, quickly retrieving the book that had fallen from her hands. He was not wearing his usual formal attire, instead donning a simple white shirt and trousers, his sleeves rolled to his elbow. The shirt was untied, leaving much of his chest exposed. Annalise felt her cheeks warm, looking away from the viscount.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you” he said.

“No, my lord. I apologize, I should not be here at this hour” she replied, gaze trained on the patterned wood floor below her.

“Actually I expected you’d be here. I did not think you capable of keeping yourself from the library. A most tempting place, is it not?” A teasing smile on his lips. When Annalise failed to respond, Anthony scanned the book she had picked out – which he still had not returned to her.

“Medicinal Plants of the Orient? Was this meant to be a sleep aid?” He laughed.

She tried to hold back her smile. This only furthered the viscount’s own smile.

“You needn’t hold back on my account,” he said.

“Is this how you’ve managed to procure the reputation that follows you?” She asked, deflecting the subject of conversation from her to the viscount.

“I do not know what you mean, Miss Carrington. I am simply conversing” he said, refusing to let up that damned smile.

“Every girl I have met at the ton would do horrendous things for the opportunity to simply dance with you, nevermind courting them entirely. Not to mention your wellknown status of being a…” she trailed off. She did not think it appropriate to call him a rake to his face. 

“A what, Miss Carrington?” He teased.

She only looked up through her lashes, refusing to indulge him.

“I promise you, Miss Carrington, my days of rake-hood are far behind me. I have but one woman I intend to be with for the rest of my days” his tone no longer one of teasing.

Annalise held his gaze, unsure of what to say. 

“Annalise. I know you are afraid but trust that no harm would come to you from me. My father raised me to be a man with honor, a gentleman. Believe me, I have tolerated raising those hooligans you met this evening and I never, not once, raised my hand at them. Though they test me, I could never dream of harming someone under my care be it my siblings, my children, or my wife. Please, can you find it in your heart to trust me?” He had taken his hands in hers, his eyes in anticipation of her answer. 

“I do not wish to make decisions with my heart, my lord” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And that is most sensible indeed” he said, his eyes trained on her face. 

He stepped forward. His breath tickled her face when he spoke, gentle as a feather,  “However, the heart is akin to a light, is it not Miss Carrington? It provides the guidance one needs in order to make your way out of the darkness.” 

Her chest rose, holding her breath.

“What if, Lord Bridgerton, one’s light were shattered and unable to provide guidance through the dark? 

“Then I would travel the night skies and snatch the stars to replace your shattered lights if that's what it takes. Annalise, I swear to you,” his gently lifted her chin to meet his eyes, “your heart is safe with me, shattered pieces and all.”

She could not breathe. Frozen in place and unsure of how to respond. She stared into his eyes, how could they be insincere with such pleading? Tears welled in her own eyes – she was at a crossroads, overwhelmed by the storm of questions in her mind. 

“Annalise, I will not hurt you” each word punctuated with intention as if he thought the more emphasis he put, the more convincing it would be to her. Was there anything she could do at this point? Any amount of delaying or refusing that would save her from her fate? Perhaps there was…

“Lord Bridgerton, may I give you the answer to your question by the week’s end?” She whispered.

That night once she had been escorted back to her chambers, Annalise conjured up a plan. The viscount had seven siblings and she would spend the remainder of the week with his family here at Aubrey Hall. She could use the week to get to know the viscount through his siblings. Perhaps, there would be a flaw, secret addiction, a bad habit – something that might give Annalise reason to deny the viscount’s proposal. Annalise would spend a day with each sibling and by the week’s end, there had to be something that might save her.

[macabr3-barbi3]

hear me out- Vox. Reader. Gloryhole. I rest my case 💼

listen I had a fucking BLAST with this!!!

on my ao3 this is going to be it's own fic instead of going in with the other oneshot requests, I got an idea that's going to be part of a longer series so it's separate!

Big thanks to @fraugwinska for hyping me up and helping with the title! you are near and dear to my heart and my creative process 💕

Tags: Glory Hole; Blow Jobs; Past Relationship(s); Vox is a little pathetic; Reader has a contract with Val (for now)

Heart Reset 📺💙

Valentino calling him down to the studio is rarely ever a good thing- Vox usually ignores the summons when he can. It’s hardly ever anything important, usually just Val wanting to fuck or invite him to participate in some orgy or another, whining that he would be such a big draw if he would just let Val switch the camera on.

Which, duh, of course he would be. He was fucking sexy, and powerful, which was an extra level of sexy in his opinion. But he didn’t revel in the idea of the masses of Hell being able to pull his face up on their screens whenever they liked- he wanted that ability to stay in his hands, thank you very much, so Valentino’s offers to make him a star were always ignored.

But today Vox’s refusal was met with a threat to not release any videos for a month, and as distasteful as Valentino’s whores could be they drew in the big bucks, and Vox wasn’t willing to lose out on that profit. So he made his way to the studio and wondered what kind of clusterfuck he would be walking into today, what sort of problem he would have to fix for the moth.

When he arrives it’s not to the usual hustle and bustle, glaring lights directed at the huge, gaudy bed against one wall- instead, the lights are dimmed, Valentino draped across his chaise, no cameras anywhere that Vox can see. A personal call, then, but he really wasn’t in the mood. The news had been fucking crazy this week with the early extermination, Alastor almost dying, the usual chaos of Hell. “What do you want?” He asks, cutting to the chase, and the moth turns lazily to look at him.

“Voxxy, you made it!” 

“You threatened business, Val.” He lets his hypnotic eye swirl a bit, upping the brightness of his screen to make sure he has his attention. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do that when you were being pissy.”

“Amorcito, this isn’t about me!” He unfolds his long limbs from the chaise and strolls over, bending at the waist to hang his arms over Vox’s shoulders and get closer to his screen, trailing his tongue up the side of his casing. “You’ve been so stressed, darling- I thought you could use the latest addition to the studio to blow off some steam.”

Vox feels his lip curl. “I’m not interested in touching any of your sluts, I’ve told you this so many times-” He backs away from Val, ignores the pout that takes over the moth’s face. “I’m fucking leaving, how many times do I have to-”

Val grabs his arm and tugs him back, drips off his body like a scarf with how lanky and tall he is. “You don’t have to touch anything, papi,” he whines, “just come look at what I have for you, hmm?” He drags Vox by the wrist to a distant wall of the studio, gesturing to a hole that sits, naturally, right at dick level. When Vox turns his glare to Val he pouts. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m trying to help, amor, you’ve been so tense- I thought a nice hole would be the perfect thing for you to relax a little.” He lowers his tone, smoke falling from his lips with his words and curling sweetly around Vox’s head. “You don’t have to touch or look at the whore behind the wall, there are no cameras; you just have to stick that lovely polla of yours through the wall and let yourself be taken care of.”

Vox… isn’t not interested, he supposes, glancing at the wall. His usual objections to anything in the studio have been addressed- this is a surprisingly nice gesture, coming from Val. Offering to let Vox enjoy himself without pushing the idea of a camera on him, without having to worry about their pleasure like he did with the moth. “What are you getting out of it?” 

Val smiles, the gesture wide, dripping as his smoke billows around them. “I’ll be over there,” he says, gesturing to the chaise across the room. “I’m content to watch and listen, amorcito, and let you have what you need. Our little friend behind the wall knows not to do anything that would disappoint me, isn’t that right?”

Vox raises his eyebrows when he hears two little knocks against the surface on the other side of the wall. “Trade secret,” Val chuckles, “two knocks for ‘yes’ or ‘keep going.’ One for ‘no’ or ‘stop.’ She’s agreed to help me out with this little favor since her shoot on set B got fucked by a busted up bed, so she knows what she’s doing with the knocks. Keep that in mind while you have your fun!” He saunters away, lays across the chaise again and pulls out his phone while he waits for Vox to get to it. 

He looks down at the hole, not nervous but maybe a little hesitant to just shove his dick through the wall for one of Val’s people. “Hey there,” he says, chuckling nervously as he asks, “you come here often?”

There’s an almost amused silence before you knock twice on the wall, and he finds himself smiling while he undoes his belt and pulls it from the loops, discarding it behind himself. “You can talk if you want to,” he says, looking over at Val who’s entirely focused on whatever is on his phone. “I won’t tell- you don’t have to be totally silent.”

A single, immediate knock. No.

That was surprising- normally you couldn’t get one of Valentino’s actors to stop talking, so your refusal was perplexing. He wonders briefly if it’s Angel Dust on the other side before shaking his head at the thought. Val was way too possessive about Angel to not be recording if he was here, regardless of it was a favor to him or not. There had to be some reason though- would he recognize your voice if you spoke? Who could you be?

The thought of a wet, warm mouth around his prick had been enough to make his lower half interested in the proceedings, but the mystery tied to it now- who you were, why you wouldn’t let him hear you- sent him the rest of the way there. He wondered what it would take to get you to make a noise around his prick, if he would know the sound of your moans while he fucked your mouth or while you touched yourself on the other side of the wall to the thought of him using you-

Fuck, maybe he should get to the fucking point. He shifts his pants down enough to bring his cock out, a gentle stroke of his fist down the shaft before he guides it slowly into the hole in the wall. Its big enough that he can comfortably fit within its confines, and almost as soon as his hips are pressed flush there’s a hot, wet tongue curling around the head, then lips pressing to the warm skin of him in little kisses that you trail to the base of his cock and a hand gripping him. And wasn’t that just lovely? 

But you were quiet- you drew him into your mouth and sucked without even a whimper, and that just wouldn’t do. “Can you take more?” He asks softly, and he sees Valentino’s head whip in his direction in time with the soft double knock.

Vox grabs the helpful little handle attached to the wall for leverage before he shoves his hips forward, and he’s rewarded with the sweetest little whine when he brushes the back of your throat. In an effort to keep yourself from making any noise your throat constricts around his tip, and he moans low, feeling the wood of the wall vibrate from it. He wishes he could see through the damned thing- see if your eyes were clenched shut to hold yourself back or if they were wide open and glazed, teary in your need. If your hands were dipping in between your legs to take the edge off of your arousal, if you were aroused knowing who he was when he had no clue who you were.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, trying to goad you into responding, and he doesn’t miss how Val sits up a little straighter on the chaise across the room- they weren’t really together right now, but that didn’t mean that he wanted Vox having too good of a time without him, clearly. “Let that pretty voice out- I wanna hear you moan on my cock, doll, can you do that?”

Val had you trained well, he would give the moth that much credit; you moan low in your throat and the vibration ripples deliciously along the length of him. Even with the sound sending electric bolts of pleasure through his body, he thinks he recognizes it. Some faint whisper in his memory processors tells him that he’s heard that sound before. He needs something else, some other way to get you vocal.

He looks down at the hole in the wall- he thinks if he could get it just a bit wider he might be able to get a hand through it, pull on your hair a little bit. He releases the handle on one side to slip his fingers through the hole, relishing in your hum of surprise and sharp intake of breath through your nose when you see his claws come through. “If I can get this open more,” he says lowly, glad for once for Val’s shitty eyesight so he can’t watch him prepare to potentially destroy part of his set, “can I touch you?” Two hesitant knocks on the wood, but that’s not good enough for him anymore. “I need a verbal confirmation on this, no porn shit.”

Hesitation. Vox worries that he’s ruined it somehow before he hears your voice, low and raspy on the other side.

“Yeah, okay.”

And fuck, he knew it! He did know that voice- something he had suppressed forever, from when he was new to Hell, still a fucking nobody. You had watched him fall, helped replace parts of his screen when he had hit the ground and was still processing the fact that he even had a screen to replace. You had watched over him for weeks, the pseudo-relationship taking a headfirst dive into the sexual before you had just fucking vanished on him a couple months in, leaving him to fend for himself again after taking care of him, making him need you. 

It had been fucking decades but Vox remembered. What you looked and sounded like bouncing on his cock in your shitty apartment, fingers rubbing frantically at your clit while your other hand dug claws into the skin of his abdomen. The tilt of your eyebrow when you got pissy with him about something. The way that your lower lip trembled with your stuttering whines when you approached orgasm, or when you cried for him, over the cuts and scars that littered his body when you first brought him home and cleaned him up. Now that he was allowing himself to remember the memories flood back, and if he closes his eyes he can almost picture you on your knees before him the way you had been, lips stretched around the girth of his cock, eyes teary and wanting and ready for him to sink into you at a moment’s notice. 

The wood creaks under his fingers, threatens to crack in his grip, and he hears the curious sound you make before he feels it.

Val is going to be pissed if Vox breaks this wall, he knows that much. He also probably won’t react well to him just popping around the back of it to see you, to fuck you if you would allow him that. A glance back to the moth confirms that Val has gone back to looking at his phone, and Vox figures that he can take his chances. He strengthens his grasp on the wood of the wall- “lean back a second, doll,” he warns you, and only temporarily laments the loss of your hot mouth around his prick before he leans out of the hole himself- and yanks, the cheap wood splintering under his hands, showering down on the floor on either side and opening a space wide enough that he can fit at least one of his arms through it. That’s all he needs. 

“¡Qué coño! What the fuck was that?” Val stands from his chaise, phone going into his pocket as he prepares to stomp over to Vox, eyes angry.

Vox turns his hypnotic eye on the moth. “I think that was the bed on set B again,” he says loud enough for him to hear, and he watches Val stop, transfixed. “You should go check it out- you’re the boss, after all.”

Val’s feet stutter against the floor. “I- you’re right! I should go check it out- you keep la puta occupied Voxxy, I’ll be back.” He wanders off, muttering in Spanish as he goes, and no sooner has he turned the corner than Vox is sticking his arm through the widened hole that he’s created, finding your head closer than he thought and twisting his fingers into your hair. 

His thumb brushes against one of your ears that rests atop your head, soft and fluffy just like he remembers and his stomach drops, his want intensifying suddenly, sharply. Other hand wrapped around his cock he guides it back into the hole, using his new grip on your head to pull you closer, take him further down your throat. “Fuck, baby, that’s good,” he mutters, and your responding whine is fucking delicious. “So fucking hot and wet- some things never change, huh?”

You stiffen slightly under his hand and he shifts his grip, pinches your cheeks where they’re hollowed from his length keeping your mouth open. He lets his thumb trail across your cheekbones, and you exhale through your nose at the sensation, a tremor in your body now. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your voice, princess? Those sweet little sounds that you let out when you’re stuffed with my cock? What are you doing here?” He asks, unable to keep the desperate curiosity out of his voice, or to keep his hips from still lazily thrusting into your mouth. Not great for a conversation or answers that he did actually want but fuck had he missed this. He hadn’t let himself even think about you for decades but you had been his first for nearly everything in Hell and then you left him like he was nothing- he thinks he’s entitled to being just a little mean, a little selfish.

“Come on, darling, don’t hold out on me now.” He bucks forward, feels you constrict around his tip again and groans low in his throat. “Show me that you missed me, too.” He forces himself to hold his hips still and let you come to him- you huff out through your nose and suck hard almost defiantly, bringing a hand up to grip his base where you can’t reach with your mouth. You pull off and place kisses down his shaft once more, the whimpers you emit sending sweet shocks of pleasure through his nervous system. He lets his hands tangle back in your hair, not guiding, simply holding on while you kiss and lick and take care of him, his orgasm fast approaching with your attention. “Gonna make me cum, baby, you want it?”

Vox scratches behind your ear as he asks, and the whine you let out is low, pathetic, fucking sexy. “Say the word and it’s yours. All of it, sweetheart, I’ll give you anything you ask. Fuck, I missed you.” There’s the faintest tinge of shame at admitting it- admitting that he didn’t have something he had wanted for so long, that he had had to scrub you from his processors to exist without you. “Did you miss me? You want me to cum in your mouth, claim you again like old times? Tell me.” He pulls you forward and you choke a bit, gag reflex hitting hard and moaning when he pulls you off enough that you can answer him.

“Fuck, Vox, yes,” you whisper, barely audible but its enough. He doesn’t even care, really, which question you’re answering as he guides himself back into your open mouth, hips stuttering once, twice, and losing himself in the slick grip of your throat. His release is met with a soft cry around his cock before he’s coming, spilling into your mouth like so many dreams and memories of the past that he had tried to erase. It’s almost painfully good, his muscles tensing and his fingers clenching hard in your hair while you take him in, swallow him down like the good girl you had always fucking been for him.

You clean him up, lick the remnants of his orgasm from him so sweetly before he pulls himself back through the hole and drops to his knees, pulling your head forward so your mouth is where it was before. He can’t kiss you like this, not really, but he tries his fucking best, licking into your mouth as well as he’s able to and trembling with the effort of not completely destroying the wall to get to you properly. You moan into his mouth and he’s desperate, suddenly, to get you off, too. “How do I get in there?” He asks, pulling away, and he’s mesmerized by the sight of your lips, open and panting when he looks down. “I need to see you, doll, it’s been too fucking long and I- please, tell me how to get in there to you.” He hates that he’s basically begging you but pride be damned; he had already lost you once.

You’re quiet for a moment, and Vox watches your mouth move when you answer. “H-head towards studio B,” you say quietly, “there’s a red door to the right in the hallway. I’ll… I’ll wait for you.” Your mouth pulls away from the hole and Vox is fucking out of there, zipping into the powerline of the nearest camera to find that door, to get to you.

He’s going to have to have a discussion with Valentino, he thinks, when he spots the door and brushes his clothes off before stepping inside. You couldn’t belong to two people at once, and he would let himself fall to an angel’s blade before he lost you again.

[soraviie]

he's not your bias.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff ━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: requested and thank you for it! Please, like, reblog and leave a comment, you know the drill :]

NAMJOON: "It's Yoongi, isn't it?"

"Please, shut up."

"You shut up!...traitor."

Sighing, you adjusted your spine from where it was comfortably settled in the mattress and turn to the other side where Namjoon was grumbling, fingers tightly gripping the duvet and stare transfixed on a meaningless spot in the ceiling. His jaw was slowly working up into a full blown clench.

Cautiously, you reach to tug his hand into yours, rubbing slow circles on the back of his palm. Thankfully, he allows this and in due time the tension leaves his tightened body.

"Why do you think it's Yoongi?" you wonder aloud once more. When you accidentally let it slip that he wasn't the first one who caught your attention, he said he didn't care, tossing that remark over his shoulder but you should have known better.

"I don't know," he trails off, shrugging. "He's cool, quiet, determined, caring. A perfect guy, really."

"So are you."

You smile into the duskened air of the dim bedroom, hoping this will be the straw the breaks the back of his worried camel but then he turns up his nose, offended.

"Not enough to be your bias."

Your head slams against the pillow - exhausted.

"I'm with you not him. I admit there are a lot of admirable qualities he has but it's just that. To me he's an idol, but you're Kim Namjoon."

Tepidly, he takes the bait and glances at you from the corner of the eye, imperceptibly scooching closer, sheets rustling in the quiet.

"And is he so great? This Kim Namjoon?"

"The greatest," you press a soft kiss against his cheek. "Now be a good boy and go to sleep."

You place his hand firmly over your waist, relaxing once more and you hear him do the same thing as well. He did not need to know who you actually biased - that certain bandmate would get his ego stroked far too much than even a fan such as yourself could allow.

YOONGI: "I'm completely fine about meeting him! Now just pretend we don't know each other and be casual about it."

Yoongi draws a deep inhale, refusing to let your hand go.

"There's only two of us here," he remarks, pointedly glimpsing around his studio. The air was laced with the stench of paint whilst the canvas you both worked on dried away in the dark corner.

"So? I could be a new staff member."

"You're sitting in my lap."

You glance down to where your thighs rested on top of his.

"Perhaps you're a pervert," you state off-handedly. This offends him and rolling his eyes, Yoongi unceremoniously shoves you onto the floor. It was exactly in this moment when you fought to preserve your balance, the door cracks open and to your great mortification Jimin comes in.

The easy smile on his lips drops faster than your gut can and with gaze hastily flickering between you and Yoongi, he steps cautiously forth.

"Oh, hello," he greets, trying to mask the awkwardness streaming out of his very pores. "I don't think I've seen you around...?"

"Yes, I'm just..." you floundered, quickly growing breathless in the presence of someone shaped like a sheer perfection. The pixels truly did not do him justice.

"Your biggest fan," Yoongi concluded dryly from his seat. "So if you could be so kind and sign a scarf or something, I'd be grateful. This one is slobbering up all my studio."

You could only turn around with mouth wide open despite no sound falling out of it. Innocently, Yoongi meets your gaze, daring to be so aggravating and proceeding to flutter his unfairly pretty eyelashes.

"Oh," Jimin laughs brightly in the background. "I don't mind signing something..."

Whilst the blood in your head boils to the degree, a straying fear arises of it simply pOpPing off your head, Jimin so graciously loops his signature on the back of a ripped note containing your and Yoongi's grocery list. Once he finishes, he lifts his head, gives an absolutely paralyzing smile and...

...winks.

WINKS!

"Ehhhhheheheheh, thankyou."

You think that somewhere in the back of Yoongi's throat there rises a sentence of "that's just embarrassing" but as you whip around, murder in the eyes, he chooses to ultimately stay diplomatically silent.

"I just remembered, there's a thing I need to do," Jimin excuses himself, bowing politely and you try to do the same but it comes out as a bit too deep. More like you're ready to accidentally worship him. As he leaves, lingering for a second too long in the doorway, his gaze jumps curiously between you and Yoongi.

"Interesting," is all he says to himself before leaving altogether.

Deep silence veils the room, interrupted only by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.

"We're breaking up," numbly, you announce.

"No, we're not," smugly, Yoongi remarks over the shoulder.

JIN: "Well, I can't say I'm surprised," Jin speaks over the rim of his steaming cup, overtly self-satisfied. "With a face such as this and my perfect personality to boot, you really stood no chance."

Personally, you have had a very, very long day. The kind of which leaves your brain leaking from the side of the ear and the soul from the bottom of the waterline, so hearing that coming out of his mouth, accompanied with a smug expression that just begged to be humbled, you slammed him down with no hesitation.

"I was talking about Jungkook. Jungkook is my bias."

The cup in between the saucer and his lips freezes halfway and you can even vaguely hear an error noise drawn from the depths of his perplexing mind.

"The sexy brunette, hitting all the notes with a grace of an angel..." he clarifies, closing his eyes. Does he think - see no evil, hear no evil?

"Is Jeon Jungkook. 190811 concert to be specifically."

The error noise grows louder.

"He was very sexy in that one. Absolutely mesmerizing. My core memory actually."

Calmly, Jin places the cup back onto the saucer, daintily pushing back a strand of unkempt hair.

"I see," he concludes and after a prolonged moment of stretching inaction during which you almost grow to believe he has entirely turned into a statue, Jin states with nothing short of cornucopia of attitude.

"Well, I raised him so by any good business model, 25% of affection belongs to me anyhow."

"Oh, only 25%?" you grumble. "How gracious of you."

"You're right," he leans his head to the side as though genuinely thinking it over. "Inflation. Make it 45%."

And to your surprise no fuss was made. He went to sleep and kicked you twice in his sleep - as per the standard rate. A year went by and the fact was never brought up, be it in passing or even when conversation was on the topic, he merely sat smiling politely in the sidelines. You assumed that the piece of this knowledge was so traumatic, he suppressed the memory of it altogether.

"Hey, Jin," you called out, rifling through the bedsheets. "Have you seen my phone?"

Over the sounds of his infuriated screams about losing yet another game, there comes a hasty "no, sorry".

"Okay, can I use your phone to call myself?"

"Su-AH YOU GODDAMN TOE BRAINED ASSHOLE-re, honey!"

The password on his phone - your birth year, not exactly hacker worthy. You hover over the contacts list not finding in the appropriate section. Babe? Nothing. Honey? Nothing. Annoyance? Not even that. You trail purposelessly throughout the small splattering of contacts - an outcome of being forced to change numbers every - accidentally stumbling on a particularly suspicious name.

"Traitor 💔"

"Drama queen," you mutter fondly, deciding to let him and the name be.

HOSEOK: "He's a sweetheart," Hoseok whispers in the vicinity of his elbow where you were using him as an impenetrable shield. "He's literally going to be happy to learn you biased him."

"Look at his face! He thinks I'm annoying!"

"That's just how his face looks, silly. As Tae-biased you must know that."

"But he's scary," you whimper. "I adore him as a bias but I also want to run away. I do not want to be perceived."

You shrink smaller the second those soulful, weary eyes glide over to where Hoseok was so suspiciously angled. You squeak and hide even further behind Hoseok's back, praying Taehyung doesn't come over.

"Get me out of here, please," you mutter and with a quick wave, Hoseok leads you out of the building. There, in the chilly air of the oncoming night, the awkwardness and, truthfully, no small amount of panic evaporates into the black sky. For a while, both of you are simply content in holding hands and watching them swing back and forth.

"Ugh, I'm so lame," you whine.

"No, you're not. It's natural to be shy around people you idolize," he scolds you gently. "You don't think I'm soaring on the ninth wave of confidence when meeting my stars?"

"Well, you're cool yourself so there's no reason why you shouldn't," you scoff.

"And you're cool as well."

There's that tone again - it's useless to argue. Hoseok was not here to entertain your insecurities, he made sure of that from the very start. You smile to yourself, gazing out across the slowly running river. Walks like these were precious. Treasured even as they were so rare.

"You're not upset by it, right?" you clarify cautiously. Partially knowing that of course such a minuscule thing as this would not upset him but...it just didn't hurt to make sure.

"No," he chuckled airily, before awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "Actually I'm kind of glad about it."

"Glad?"

"Well, it'd be difficult to date you if you kept running away from embarrassment."

You chuckled, facing the ground as the streets and the river slowly molded themselves into a nondescript background.

JIMIN: "So...Namjoon told me you hung out?"

Easy. Casual. Even somewhat in passing. But you know him better than that and the second your sixth sense catches onto the lingering shadow in the background of his chords, you lift your head from the magazine and stray to where he was leaning against the countertop.

"I don't like him like that. Please, do not misunderstand."

"I'm just asking," Jimin defends, more so out of instinct. The very best and simultaneously the worst thing about the relationship you'd both cradled like a gentle flame is that by now you could read each other's mind. Despite not being there with him in person you know of the pang in his heart he'd felt when seeing a picture of you trailing next to Namjoon as you both were immersed in a conversation about art, one that'd surely make him bored quite easily. And despite Jimin not literally finding himself dug deep into your brain, he knows you worry, he knows you suspect, knows you're working overtime into scheming all possible future scenarios.

"Stop overthinking," he chides but there's no malice behind it and simply just as that the tension stretches and unwinds until there's only the soft ambient noise of life swirling all around.

"Does he know? You go rabid over him?"

Fully offended, you point the spoonful of yoghurt in his direction, a fat glob of peach splattering clumsily onto the tiles.

"I do not! Go rabid over him!"

Before you get the chance to reach for the paper towel, Jimin has already snatched a ply, wiped up the peach yoghurt and discarded it into the trash.

"Thank you. But I do not go rabid over him!"

Jimin pointedly stares at the your keychain where not one, not two but three Koya's hung limply around the metal circles.

"Of course, absolutely sane."

"Do not patronize me, Park," you glare at him but once geared to amuse himself in your miffed state, he shows no sign of stopping.

"You are so chill about it. Not like you spent hours creating TikTok edits of his dimples."

"You swore to take that to the grave," you growled underneath the nose, your clenched fist indicating you were extremely close to choking him. Which Jimin didn't exactly mind. In fact, such was his goal.

"Oh, make me take it there," he winked.

TAEHYUNG: "I'm not going to share Hobi with you."

"I'm your partner!"

"And? You're not getting Hoseok privileges."

You pouted the rest of the day away, grumbling about the unfairness of the whole situation. But secretly you felt your heart draw a heavy sigh of relief. It'd been so hard to get together with Taehyung that unwillingly it felt that even the smallest of things got inflated to magnitude you feared could drown you whole. But it was fine. If anything he seemed overjoyed in hearing that it was Hoseok who'd caught your attention first and kept a rather brutal chokehold over the course of these few years. Yes, it was fine. However, should Taehyung ever reveal you had drooled on yourself while watching "MORE", you would kill him and then yourself. A promise you'd made loud and clear to which he swore to obey.

And it wasn't like meeting Hoseok was something so necessary for you to live, feeling rather content watching him from the sidelines. In between life, Yeontan, Taehyung and all the secrecy that one had to accept came with him, your life was...full. So when one of these factors suddenly became absent, you grew suspicious.

Why did he sneak away before you woke up and came home when you were asleep? He couldn't be mad at you, could he? You think back, absent-mindedly tapping at the phone screen. "Daydream" blasts into your ears all too loudly and flinching you yank them away much to Tannie's disappointment. As of late, he appeared to be even more judgmental. You reckon the little rascal never grew to be quite okay with you taking so much of his dad's attention. But to be fair his dad's attention was on whatever third party that kept him away the entire day.

The slowly running anxiety prodded your eyes wide open so it's not like you planned to stay awake for when unmistakably Taehyung shut the front doors cautiously behind him. No, there was nothing for him to be angry about. He hadn't been home often enough for it to happen. As such, guided by latent curiosity, you pretended to be wholly asleep, cracking the barest sliver of one eye open to observe him through the dark.

Stumbling ungainly through the minefield that was your bedroom, it was no surprise he stubbed a toe against the dresser and choking on a series of half-withheld curses, collapsed onto the duvet.

"Good evening," you greet him smoothly. "Fun night?"

He yelps from the shock whilst you turn on the lights. Though you find him not with guilt gleaming in the eye or lipstick on the collar but rather brandishing two dozen of balloons and a photo album.

A photo album of carefully and might you say, artistically gathered collection of photocards, signed at the end by Hoseok himself.

JUNGKOOK: His eyes never left your figure, analyzing each and every interaction with a hawk-like precision.

Jimin? No, you were far too unperturbed talking to him. Jin? No, he'd been in your home far too many times drunk of his ass. Frankly, after he'd slathered your favourite plushie in the contents of his stomach, Jungkook doubted you could hold any sense of idealization towards the man, regardless if he was your initial bias or not.

Jungkook hummed to himself. Decisions, decisions. All of them wrong. His investigation was fruitless for so long Jungkook had all but abandoned it, resigning himself to sitting quietly by the stewing pot when at last something in you changes. Yoongi casually recommends a dish as he'd taken notice of your befuddled stare upon the cornucopia of the dinner table and you lover your gaze, bidding a very quiet, meek "thank you". As a year old boyfriend of yours, Jungkook could definitively say - you were not meek.

Ah, so it was Yoongi.

Why did he want to know so bad? He himself did not even know. Perhaps because you hid it away and the spitefulness of your action flared his own competitive nature. Or perhaps it was nothing at all.

Laying down in the sparse room of the lakeside guest house, he listened to you shower, weighing should he bring the matter . You loved him, not Yoongi. After all you were his partner, but...

No "but's", he scolds himself, turning to lay on the other side. You pad softly to the bed and with a drawn out sigh of utter content jump down next to him.

"Why do you keep sleeping with your hair wet?" Jungkokk nags, twirling a strand between the fingers. "It's bad for you health."

"I sleep better that way."

He gives a non-committal hum, knowing so much already. He briefly opens his mouth as though the words were already there - in the papillae of his tongue but then he closes it shut once more, leaving things unspoken

It doesn't much matter, he reckons happily, while you were still by his side, he would not doubt a thing.

© soraviii/soraviie, 2023

[crazylittlejester]

i refuse to use ai and i cannot draw because of my wrist so we’re all just gonna close our eyes and imagine this but:

crack idea where Wars and Time somehow BOTH touch Twi’s crystal and all three of them are panicking about it but eventually just have to go back to camp, and the others are faced with a Twilight shaking his head with exhausted tears in his eyes followed by a swan with a little blue scarf riding on the back of a very pissed off looking deer with one eye

and Swan Wars and Deer Time then just have to stare at the others with big ol’ eyes

[richea]

Inomata’s Design Notes & Memories - Destiny Cast

Some notes:

I’ve linked images of each thing she references below.

Unlike the first batch of Eternia characters I previously posted, these were in Japanese. And unlike the Destiny 2 ones I translated, she talks about her experiences with the characters in the game and not just her design processes!

The book in question is this one.

What I think about most when designing characters is their colors and the components to their look. The characters are displayed as such small sprites, so in order to be able to differentiate them from each other, I give each of them a specific color palette and unique accessories to each of their outfits.

Stahn’s thing was his scarf. I also made sure his shoulder pads, gloves, and boots looked huge.

Rutee is supposed to be a thief, so I made her look a bit like a ninja. I didn’t want her to look too girly, so I gave her shorts and exposed her navel. For colors I went with red and black, since that’s a distinctive palette. Whenever I’d do boss battles, she’d always be joyfully picking 2 gald off the ground instead of healing my very low HP characters (laughs). I thought about removing her from my party to prevent this, but then I’d feel bad, and it just made me think “this is all part of her plot” (laughs).

Philia is a priestess through and through. I went for white and green to give her an earthly feel (laughs). Her glasses and braids were a strong request from Namco. I came up with designs for her, but they didn’t have the glasses or braids, so they were repurposed for the priests in Straylize Temple. It was the basis for Philia’s design as well as Elraine’s in the sequel. Philia has her eye on Stahn, but he eats too much and he oversleeps. I feel like they’d work out better if Philia was more the assertive type herself (laughs).

Woodrow is an archetypical handsome man, so I didn’t have much to stress about when designing him. He’s a king, so I wished he had a stronger atmosphere behind him. I almost never used him when playing the game though (laughs). When you break into Dycroft, I thought, “it’d be really cool in a narrative sense to use him here, but he’s just so weak”. But you get special dialogue if you take him along, so I went “tsk” and brought him anyway. “Just stick to the backlines and don’t die” (laughs).

Leon’s really easy to draw, so again I didn’t have much to stress about when drawing him. He has a princely vibe to him, so I gave him white tights, but everyone was taken back by it! I thought, “is it that weird?” and ended up making them less tight fitting (laughs). He acts a bit snobbish, gets seasick easily and refuses to eat vegetables, so he really crosses off a lot on the “young master” list. He’s also really fun to use in battle (laughs). He has a really low defense stat but he hits fast, so it’s crucial that you string your combos together. When paired with Stahn, if you can isolate your bosses in the far side of the screen, they go down quite fast. Then I see the popup that Rutee’s picking gald off the floor again and I just use healing items on him (laughs).

I wanted to make Chelsea cute and small, so I based her image off of little birds. I gave her a palette of pink, green and blue, and made her hair look like a cockatoo or parrot. Her bloomers look like a paper lantern and I find them quite cute (laughs). Her life story makes me want to cry though. She’s fine and all in the first game, but in the sequel, she’s still wearing those bloomers from when she was a kid, living all alone on a snowy mountain. And if you go through her drawers, you can take something that Woodrow gave to her. I felt so bad, I thought “even though it’s so out of the way, I’ll go buy all the items you need!” (laughs). Then she makes all of these bows for you, but by then, I’d already enhanced my weapons a lot… But I felt so bad that I never Refined them and thought, “I’ll keep these on me forever” (laughs).

Johnny’s original idea was “troubadour,” but as the story progressed and I gave him his hat and all sorts of plumes, he came out a bit comical (laughs). He’s a really fun character to have in your party though, and I fell in love with him right away. I love that his tone-deafness does physical damage to the enemies (laughs).

With the Swordians, they have the will of humans and I wanted to incorporate that into their designs, but it didn’t seem to fit so I went for something more inorganic. Berselius alone has a creepy aura to him, and when Destiny 2 came around I thought “But his owner is such a nice person! Is it really okay for him to have such a creepy design?” but then I thought well, maybe Harold just likes things that way (laughs).

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin HoteL||Alastor X Reader Jealousy In Hell? (Part 1.)

I don't Know anything about Matcha Latte, or any Match tea, or what flavors are good but, I do Know behind Alastor's eerie smile has landed him a full time in hell, He's found someone to protect. Even if it is a bit sadistic, he'll make sure you are unharmed, and never bothered by uncomfortable situations again.

This seemingly new recruit had a bigger smile than Alastor, your dear boyfriend if that even was possible.

He was called, 'Jinx, spell caster demon.' he had the most pleasant things to say, the most wonderful compliments to say but if he was so wonderful why would he be in hell? What did he want? More so what did he want from you?

You had a few hobbies from your life as a human, you would Crochet for hours, Knitt scarfs, you had no one to give them too before but,

"Oh! my talented dear! You sometimes even fool me that you are in hell with those darling gestures of yours!" Alastor wore your presents as proudly as he carried his radio thing you believe.

Now Jinx would regularly shower you with Yarns, tools to watching you focus on your hobby so endearingly.

Jinx moved closer to you in the two-seater sitting quite close to you, but you were to engrossed to say anything.

"Hey Sweetie after your done with that cute thing of yours may I have it?"

"Huh?" Then you flinched, "Shit wrong stich!"

"Sorry Sorry sweetie!" He then closed any remaining gap placing his hands on yours, "How about I help you fix it? Hmm?"

"Oh! There you are darling; I have finished your favorite dish I hope it's up to your liking!" Alastor cheerily said, but being with him for these past few days you could now make out slight changes of tone in his voice, sometimes it would get sadistic, sometimes genuinely caring,

You felt uncomfortable by how close Jinx was closing in on you, "A-Alastor I-I was just about to find you to!" Your voice slightly went high pitched as you uncomfortably pushed him of.

This was one situation Alastor will not jump into any conclusions or draw to much attention to himself but now that he knows.

"My dear, would you like to join me for a walk, I know a quiet place you might like?"

"How about we watch that little movie of yours, in that noisy picture box."

For saying that with his permission you kissed his cheek, he had to bend down for that. (Please he's 7ft)

He would keep a little closer now.

But one day, Alastor had taken Sir. Petencious cute egg creatures to 'Handle' them, taking pity on those things.

"I'll handle them Alastor--"

"Nonsense darling, you enjoy sleeping, or making some noise anything. Or You could be in my office." He would say.

Things got a little rough,

Two Days later

Alastor stroked your hair, as you wept bitterly in his arms, he had to get you to rest, but you refused to allow him to leave.

[slu7formen]

icy nights | cedric diggory x f.r

cedric invites you to go ice skating on christmas night, and how could you say no to him?

warnings: kissing, just pure fluff. <3

reminder: english is not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

“Where did you even get those?” you asked Cedric as he closed the front door behind him, the yelling and laughing of the people at the living room now becoming a barely mumbling as you both walked.

Cedric was holding two pairs of ice skates, one for you, one for him. He smiled as he talked. “My older cousins. They were the ones allowed to go ice skating during the holidays while I just watched them from my room because I was too young and I could get hurt. Now they get to watch”

You laughed as you kept walking, hands deep inside your pockets as you looked up at the sky. Despite being late at night, the stars were enough to light up the sky along with the moon.

Cedric’s house was a comfy place to spend Christmas at. It smelled just like the perfect amount of pumpkin and gingerbread, with the fire and those amazing cookies that Cedric’s grandma made and basically forced you to eat more than once. His family was nice, more than nice actually, really sweet and caring, and it made you feel like part of the family too, despite only being with Cedric for a few months.

His house was small, but it was located at a rural zone, and it had such a landscape that every time you looked at it when you woke up, the soft sun and orange dawn would take your breath away. Also, it had a lake, one in which him and his cousins would swim during summer and now, skate on during winter.

Only this time, it was just you and him.

“Do they fit?” he asked as he finished tying your laces, and placed one of his hands on your calve as you shook your foot, smoothly drawing circles with his thumb.

“They’re a little big, but it’s fine” you answered. He nodded once, then sat at the bench next to you.

“Let me put on mine” he said as he took off his shoes. “Have you ever ice skated before?” he questioned.

“No” you replied as you looked at him. You loved how soft yet smooth and marble looking skin looked tonight. His cheeks were red, as always, but it contrasted perfectly with the pale color of his face. His lips, plumped and pink, weren’t even dry because of the freezing weather. Unlike yours, you had to apply lip balm every five minutes.

Truth was, Cedric looked good at all times, but something about this particular night that made your tummy flip in a different way whenever you looked at him, almost as if it was the first day you met, in which you felt the exact same.

Winter just went so good with him. The turtle neck, the long coat, almost brushing his ankles, the ridiculously long scarf and his black jeans. His ears were red because he refused to wear a beanie, so you wore it instead.

Cedric thought it looked cute on you. After all, your cheeks were just as red as his and the soft cream colored accessory on your head that combined with your outfit just made you look like a tiny marshmallow to his eyes. He loved it.

“Okay, slowly” he pointed out when you almost fell once you stepped into the ice. You gripped his hands tightly as you closed your eyes even tighter. “Okay, honey, you have to use your eyes” you heard his laugh ring in your ears.

“How can you do this so easily? Skating backwards!?” you panicked. Your feet were moving smoothly along the ice, and you could stay like this forever, if it wasn’t for the fact that the reason why you were moving forward, was because your boyfriend was pushing you towards his body, that kept moving back and back and back.

“It’s easy, you’ll see” he tried to sound as calm as possible to calm you down. After a few seconds he decided to let go of your left hand slowly, to which you didn’t complain as much as he expected you to. “Open your eyes”

You shook your head.

“Come on” he smiled “I won’t let go of you”

He could never let go.

You both stopped your slow skating as you opened your eyes, looking down at your feet. The fact that the only thing that was holding you to the ground was a thin and sharp piece of shiny blade was what made you the most nervous. Staring off wrong would definitely make you fall to the ground and have the worst embarrassment from your life.

“H-how do I do this? I feel like I’ll fall”

“You won’t fall” he laughed out loud. “Merlin, you are so cute” he muttered almost to himself, but he knew you heard. It made your cheeks redder. “Just go slow, I promise I won’t let you go”

You nodded as he took the initiative, smoothly sliding his thin skates through the ice, which made a satisfactory sound anytime the blade cut the thick layer of frozen water.

You then started to do it on your own without even noticing. The cold wind of the night hit into your face sharply, but you didn’t care. Cedric held your hand as you started to go faster and faster, almost as if you tried to race your boyfriend.

“See? You got it!” he encouraged you. “Can I let go now?”

“No! You promised you wouldn’t, Ced!” you yelled as you abruptly turned around. The sudden move made you both trip in your own feet and soon, you fell to the ice.

Your butt hit the hard surface as Cedric slightly groaned when he hit his forearm, but quickly started to laugh.

“I’m sorry” you giggled.

“It’s fine, honey”

He sighed deeply as he let himself fall in the cold ice, coat getting wet and a deep freezing breeze brushing his head and neck. You imitated him, laying next to his body as you felt both sensations, the coldness of the ice and snow, and the warmth of his body.

The sky was shiny, just as every night that you saw this past week that you slept at Cedric’s house. However, seeing it from the middle of the lake, staring directly at it, was completely different than looking at it from a window.

This was much better. It was like your eyes weren’t big enough to look around you, but everything was at your sight. The leafless trees, the house yellow lights, the big and white moon as the stars shinned around it.

You suddenly felt out of breath at such beauty.

“It’s beautiful” you whispered.

“It is” Cedric agreed.

Only that he wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking at you.

You turned your head when you felt his eyes on you. You thought his words, and hid your face in the thick layer of your coat to prevent him of seeing your poor red face. He laughed as he put his forearm over his forehead, really looking at the sky this time.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me” he said. The tip of his fingers touched yours, laying on the ice and wetting your fingertips.

You gripped your hand around his index finger, holding tightly. He secretly loved it when you did it.

“I’m glad you’re with me too” you answered, then turned your head to him, so you could live this moment one last time before getting back inside, as you promised Cedric’s mum you would so you wouldn’t get sick. “Merry Christmas, Ced”

His dimples showed when he smiled at you again. “Merry Christmas, baby”