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#this is also my biggest piece yet
kusakichan15 · 10 months
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The Canonical Six 💚✨
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prettyboysmlm · 4 months
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do you ever like. want to go back to something that you’ve been staying away from bc it led to you getting hurt even though you know that something is bad?
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evilkitten3 · 9 months
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What would you think, if, after getting advice from Iroh, Zuko and the gang travel to the spirit world in order to find Aang’s people so that Aang can teach the air acolytes more about the air nomads? But Zuko gets attacked by a poisonous spirit and reverts back to pre Season 2 Zuko after losing some of his memories due to the poison fogging his mind. Zuko is confused and doesn’t know why he’s firelord. The gang try to explain things to him, but it only causes him to become even more confused. Aang and the gang then leave Zuko behind to spend more time with the air acolytes. While they’re gone, Zuko is very uncertain about what to do, but soon corrupt advisors convince him to restart the war. Zuko doesn’t remember his friendship with Aang, but he hears that he once joined Aang, so Zuko assumes that Aang once brainwashed him into joining team Avatar and turning against his Father. Zuko intends to be a much greater firelord than his father, and he and his army raid the air acolyte settlement in their airships in order to hunt down Aang once again, and end up burning down the settlement. Aang and the gang wonder why Zuko chose to hunt them down again. Aang eventually comes to the conclusion that Zuko backslid due to bad advice from his advisors and because he lost some of his memories. Aang then travels the nations looking for a cure to help restore Zuko’s memories.  
Azula escapes from the mental institute and Zuko sends bounty hunters after her to capture her. Soon, Azula gets bitten by a snake, so she finds help in the village of Jang Hui where she is healed by two waterbenders, who are taking refuge there. Jang Hui is the village Katara helped in The Painted Lady. And the villagers aren’t on good terms with the firelord. The villagers accept her and assume that she’s on their side because she’s made an enemy of the Firelord. The villagers teach Azula how to heal people using firebending techniques inspired by water bending, and she ends up becoming a fisherwoman because it’s a fishing town. She starts to warm up to the town, but one day she overhears the waterbenders talking about sneaking out to sabotage the smelting factory(which is currently undergoing reconstruction) in order to help the villagers. Azula offers to join their mission, and the three sneak out to destroy the factory, but she betrays the waterbenders over to the fire nation in hopes that she might bring glory to the fire nation. But now that the waterbenders are captured and eliminated, the town is defenseless. Zuko’s army burns the town down leaving few survivors. Zuko didn’t exactly authorize the attack, but he did give his generals permission to do whatever it takes to stop the villagers from trying to halt the rebuilding of the factory used for the war effort. A few survive and declare revenge on Azula for what she did.  
Azula starts to feel terrible about betraying the people who saved her life and indirectly causing the village to be destroyed, since she didn’t know it would be destroyed. And she holds Zuko partially responsible for destroying the village. After wandering around, Azula looks through a telescope and sees Aang try to save a fire nation village from a volcano, and she also sees Zuko. Zuko does nothing after his corrupt advisors tell him to leave the village, saying that Aang will probably die, so Zuko runs away. But Aang manages to save the village from the erupting volcano. Azula gets accepted into the gang when she uses her new healing abilities to heal Aang, who is wounded by the volcano. They reluctantly team up to stop Zuko.
After wandering around the Earth Kingdom to look for a cure for Zuko's memory loss, the gang sees a massive stream of fire pour down from a few fire nation airships hovering above a village. The stream of fire burns the village to the ground, leaving few survivors. It turns out that fire nation scientists developed a highly addictive serum that can increase the fire power of any fire Bender. The downside is that prolonged use of the serum results in loss of the senses, and eventually death. Senses such as taste, smell, sight, touch, and hearing. Zuko intends take the serum and lead a fleet of airships to finish what his Dad started by burning the Earth Kingdom to the ground. After learning what Zuko intends to do, even Aang feels tempted to give up on him.
it's an interesting concept, but i have a few critiques.
first, if the gaang knows zuko lost his memory, why would they leave him in the first place? and even if they did that, surely there'd be somebody in the palace who could say "hey firelord zuko maybe don't restart the war dude wtf" or at least alert the gaang or something.
second, i've seen a lot of people try to have azula's redemption involve learning some kind of healing, and i gotta say, it very very rarely does anything for me. for starters, it (probably unintentionally) reinforces the northern water tribe's ideology that healing is inherently for women (the show admittedly also did this bc the only named male waterbender who uses any kind of healing in any canon that i'm aware of is unalaq). moreover, it's not something i think azula would be particularly good at or have much interest in.
also, why are there waterbenders in jang hui? it's a fire nation village. you said they were taking refuge, but from what, and why there? on top of that, azula knows zuko is firelord and doesn't know he's lost his memories, so why would she assume betraying the waterbenders to the fire nation would bring it glory? if she just broke out of the asylum, then the last time she saw zuko was when he and katara fought her during the agni kai.
third, if zuko lost his memory to a "poisonous" (???) spirit in the spirit world, why are they searching the earth kingdom for a cure? shouldn't they be looking in the spirit world? aang's the avatar, and iroh's gotten in before, so it shouldn't be the hardest thing in the world.
fourth, if zuko lost all his memories of books 2 and 3, he shouldn't know about ozai's plan to burn everything to the ground, since that wasn't established until after he returned to the fire nation with azula, mai, and ty lee.
finally, even before book 1 began, zuko was deeply loyal to his people, balking at the mere idea of sacrificing newbie soldiers for the sake of a win, so i can't fathom a world where zuko is ok with burning down jang hui (a fire nation village) just cuz.
i'm not trying to say there's no potential here, you have some very interesting ideas, but there's a lot that doesn't really work for me.
(to be fair tho i'm not a huge fan of anything involving much of the air acolytes bc i frankly could not give less of a fuck about them. i don't hate them or anything they just don't mean anything to me)
#atla#it's an interesting concept#but honestly as described here it's more confusing than anything else#also the whole premise relies on the idea that zuko blindly listens to what people tell him to do#which is something he's never once managed ever in his life#also the whole ''let's burn everything to the ground'' was something zuko wasn't remotely ok with#bc unlike azula he hasn't been raised to believe that the right thing to say is whatever makes dad proud of you#he HAS been raised to believe that paternal love has to be earned through blood sweat and tears#but if he knew ozai was in prison then obviously the best way to get his favor would be to let him out and reinstate him as firelord#which would be. very confusing to ozai#imagine just sitting in prison and then your son storms in and tells you he's freed himself of brainwashing and you can be in charge again#then imagine having to explain that the avatar can take away bending now but you'd be happy to help him rule from the shadows#since clearly your daughter wasn't of any use#...actually i think you have the start of a really good toxic father-son bonding experience that absolutely nobody wanted#having said that my biggest piece of advice is to cut the serum idea entirely#it makes no sense in the established atla world#they haven't even got antibiotics over there yet#it'll be awhile before they're inventing super soldier serums to create captain fire nation or whatever#also i'm curious what advice iroh gave that prompted all of this#aang doesn't need to go into the spirit world he has all the previous air avatars on psychic speed dial#oh and why would jang hui hate zuko?#katara definitely would've pushed him to send them help#also they apparently became famous for their seafood after the war#so zuko would probably be pretty well liked by them#again it isn't a bad idea it just needs a lot of workshopping#bc right now it raises way more questions than it seems intent on answering
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tomswifty-fr · 1 year
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its actually not even funny how little i want to go into work today
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redbootsindoriath · 2 years
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#but the actually fun reason is i've finally gotten to working on the costume i've been trying to put together for like two years now#the great part is i get a cool outfit out of it#the time consuming part is that i'm making myself sew EVERYTHING by hand including the seams for the sake of authenticity I would LOVE to hear about this if you'd want to talk about it?? I love sewing by hand (even if it takes forever)! Would you be willing to share pictures?
Oh wow, thanks for asking about this!  I can never be sure how many of my followers are reading the tags, so it’s cool to know that you are.  And I’ve been keeping this costume a secret for a while, so I’m excited to ramble a bit about it.
Okay so.  A couple of years ago I decided I wanted to try making a costume based off something I’d drawn, and I also wanted a Silmarillion costume, so I’m doing both at the same time and making the gold-hemmed green tunic that I’ve drawn Beleg in a few times.  It’s about half done at the moment, but I finally got the sleeves to sit right (only took me four days, RIP; as I said before, I’m no tailor) so I’m feeling confident enough to post this progress picture.  Pardon the ugly black background; I decided to erase the real background because it was kind of cluttered.  And you’re going to have to take me at my word that the fabric is green.  It turns kind of brown in warm toned lights and kind of grey in cool toned lights, and I took the picture in a room where the light was yellowish so that’s why it doesn’t exactly look green.
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Eventually there will be a gold border around the sleeves and lower hem (probably embroidered but I’m saving that decision for the very end). The outer waist belt sits approximately where those three safety pins are, and there will be a total of five buttons above that line.
Ah, but then!  Once the tunic is done, I’ll only be about halfway finished with the whole outfit.  Sure I’ll have the big pieces (the tunic and trousers), but many of the little details that actually bring the whole look together (belts, pouches, bracers, gaiters/puttees/winnigas, etc.) have yet to be found/crafted.  The outer belt I’ll probably not be making myself since I have a stamped leather belt with moose and forest imagery on it and I think that’s dope as heck, and I have a buckled bracer that I was given last year which matches that belt, but everything else I’m pretty sure I can make myself.  We’ll see. I’m hoping to have the entire outfit completed by the end of the summer, but because I’ve been procrastinating for ages I’m starting to run out of time if I’m going to make that deadline.  As a wise man hobbit once said:
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...but at least I’m working on it.  The thing I’m really dreading making is the bow and arrows because no matter how many tutorials you read and watch, you don’t have the skill to do it well until you’ve tried it yourself and messed up a few times, and also those are a bit important to the character so it’s kind of crucial that I do well on them.
Anyhow, this post has gotten pretty long now, so I’m going to leave the rest of my rambling in the tags.  Thank you again for asking about this!
#the man the myth the legends#yo somebody talked to me#/end classification tags#i've mentioned this before but army green and other warm greens are my favorite ''real'' color#because of how they change in different lights#in the past few years i've been accidentally collecting more and more clothes of this kind of green#which makes me very happy#viva la army green#also i don't know yet if i'm going to add an undertunic to the outfit#in some drawings with the green tunic i had beleg wearing a brighter forest green shirt with long sleeves#but i don't have a shirt that matches that description#nor do i have any fabric of that color lying around#so we'll see#okay but back to griping about the issues i'm running into while making the tunic#i designed it and cut out the pieces well over a year ago (actually almost two years i think)#but during this past year i decided to start upping my strength training and whatnot#so when i started actually putting it together this may i realized that it was going to end up way tighter than i meant it to be#oh well#the silver lining is thicker than the cloud in this instance so i can't complain#and i was able to widen the sleeves rather easily which was the biggest issue#the shoulders and chest i had to leave the way they were because i couldn't exactly add more fabric to the stuff that was already cut#measure twice cut once#except surprise your unit of measurement changes later and there's nothing you can do about it#and that's just the way the lembas crumbles sometimes#i'm sure it'll turn out fine
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tvrningout-a · 1 year
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CHAPTER SELECT       ➤ ???       ➤ ???       ➤ is it not enough i'm happy? 
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i made the team! i get to play! i get to be their setter!
     how brightly she shined as she told her parents of her success, of how she worked hard for months to obtain that starting position, of the excitement she finally felt again. they were happy -- why wouldn’t they be? for years, makiko hadn’t touched an extracurricular, nor had she dedicated herself to anything worthwhile. they were relieved to see her smile, to hear her talk so animatedly about something.
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     but makiko had been naïve. they always want more from her. 
     oh, won’t it be nice if you’re captain next year? her mother mentions it more than once, likes to talk about how yuuta was the basketball captain his senior year, and makiko tries to smile and move on. she doesn’t care if she becomes captain or not, doesn’t believe it’s something to entertain when she’s still building trust with her new teammates. she just wants her team to do well, to enjoy themselves and feel good about what they’re doing. what does it matter if she’s the one leading in the end?
     her father thinks her coach is too easy on her and her teammates, mistakes allowing the girls’ room to learn and trust each other as a lack of initiative. never mind they’ve won every game up until now -- that coach rubs him the wrong way, and maybe he’ll have a talk with her. makiko knows this comes from a place of love, that he only wants the best for her, but she can’t help the scowl and harsh protest that leaves her mouth. he scolds her for talking to him that way and tells her she won’t succeed if she doesn’t have someone to push her.
     makiko shuts up, apologizes, and clenches her fists so tightly that her palms sting. 
they push their own sense of ambition onto her, yet they don’t believe she can do this on her own? that she can’t be like her siblings like they’ve always wanted her to be unless someone holds her hand? what a fucking joke.
     her mother brings up becoming captain again one night, and makiko just cannot take it anymore.
     “ is it not enough i’m having fun? ”
     quiet but sharp, makiko’s words halt the conversation at the dinner table. she feels yuki’s stunned gaze, but she doesn’t look away from her plate. mrs. furukawa asks, “ what? ”
     " is it not enough i’m having fun? is it not enough i’m happy? ”
     “ makiko--- ” 
     “ no, tell me! is it more important that i’m successful, or more important that i’m happy? ”
     it comes pouring out, every ounce of resentment makiko has ever felt for being compared to her siblings, for being taught that unless she was the best, she wasn’t good enough. it’s reflected in her eyes as she glowers at her mother, shoulders tense and one hand clutching her chopsticks with a death grip.
     “ where is this coming from? ” her father has the nerve to look confused, and makiko scoffs.
     “ how many times have you compared me to yuki and yuuta now? a hundred times, a thousand? it isn’t a crime to lack ambition, dad! ”
     " we just want you to be successful, makiko, ” her mother interjects, sounding stern despite her glassy eyes. “ your siblings never needed us to push them much, but you... ”
     “ i don’t need you to push me. you pushing me has only ever made me feel inadequate, you know that? you put my siblings on this pedestal and expected me to match that -- of course i stopped trying! ”
     chest heaving, heart racing, head spinning --- when did she stand? she’s trembling, she realizes, and she can’t seem to get her breathing under control. yuki reaches out to her, but makiko recoils ( don’t touch me or i’ll break ) . it seems her parents are stunned into silence, though makiko doesn’t take the time to look at them. she doesn’t see the guilt as it sinks in what they’ve done to her. no, she has an overwhelming need to get away, far away, and rushes from the dining room and out the front door. she can’t be sure who it is screaming after her. her mind can’t focus on anything else but being anywhere but here.
     she’s done. this is the last time she runs away from a problem. in a few hours, makiko will come home, sit down, and talk to her parents. but she needs this right now, a small reprieve after finally finding her voice and exhausting it.
     as makiko collapses against a tree ( of course she finds herself at the community center, where it all began ) , she makes herself a promise: she won’t ever be that timid, shell of a girl again.
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orcelito · 1 year
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It's so interesting playing p5r and watching Haru's social link... in discacc, I kinda gloss over most of the social links, bc theyre largely the same as in the game, but with her... I'm gonna have to really pick apart how her friendship with Akira develops lol. Bc of how things have been set up, their friendship will be fundamentally different from how things are in the game... they CAN be friends, I just... need to smooth some things out first...
#speculation nation#discacc shit#the biggest difference i think is the way that makoto already exists for discacc haru as The Confidant#in p5 haru's friendship with akira is largely based on him being a pillar of support for her after her father dies#it's not quite the same. but for discacc haru she's going to automatically turn towards makoto for this kind of thing#additionally. there's the whole deal with goro lmfao#while akira's (kinda) called goro out for it. a little bit. the fact remains that his boyfriend has been a piece of shit to haru#and akira could definitely do more about it. and he will! but he hasnt yet.#so yes he's only been kind to haru. and haru's grateful to him for keeping her needs in mind.#but he's still willingly associating with someone who she just. Does Not Like.#not only is goro a complete asshole. but he's also Uhhh a murderer lmfao. & even with the circumstances haru cant understand why#everyone else seems so okay with that fact.#it's complex. and once she's got more of a chance to get to know goro herself she'll understand more.#but she's starting off with such a bitter impression of goro and By Extension akira.#her friendship with akira just Cant be the same. so i have to uhh figure that out lol.#i know where i want it to go. i think they can bond quite well over mutual interest in plants + coffee.#just gotta Uhhh deal with the baggage first lol#ive got my plans tho. gonna start putting them into place uhhhh. well. chapter 43 ish.#depending on if i do the giant 41 chapter or manage to make it into 41 with 42 being the anniversary chapter.#if i do that then it'll be 43. where i start putting some plans in place.#in the meantime. i just gotta sit goro down and tell him to not be TOO much of an asshole lmfao
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darabeatha · 1 year
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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘?
              𝐓𝐇𝐄 "𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄" .    back again young one? still not comfortable with your new title? yes, I can see you are one that prefers the simpler things in life but you do deserve the rank they have given you. oh little sparrow, have you just now realized you are an owl? soaring the skies with gleaming, outstretched talons. you lived your life blinded to your own abilities, but now the truth is out. you did not ask to be a hero, which pains my heart to the core. but alas, the people have given you something so true and bittersweet you cannot bear to refuse them. for they have given you their trust. they praise you, songs will be sung of you, ballads written, feasts in your honor. but "why me?" you quietly whisper to the stars. if you could speak their language you'd hear their simple reply, "because." you, out of the finest candidates were chosen to be a sacrificial lion in golden chains. your loved ones chanted your worth as it echoed from the steeples. but what was your say on the matter? I guess you had little to none, and unfortunately, neither do I.    but destiny is not a burden, it is a gift, you feel weighted by the entire world, your shoulders ache from the hopes, fears, and dreams of the people who have chosen to follow you.    but their adoration isn't blind my dear. you are strong, you are worthy of the armor, of the crown. when you look back you will realize that you, my young god, were truly the savior many called you. do not run from your purpose, seek it. and I do not mean the heroic of sorts, no, search for what makes you alive young hero, for here's a secret, you are just as much a hero to others as you are to yourself. if wouldn't make you a villian, to tell them no...
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#; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐗𝐈 ; headcanons.#;headcanons#headcanons#;dash games#dash games#/BITING ONTO A CHUNK OF WOOD RN#/i think if he heard that quote 'destiny is not a burden' he would break down crying on his knees#'you feel weighted by the entire world#your shoulders ache from the hopes fears and dreams of the people who have chosen to follow you'#for context;; c.onstantine was basically holding the already doomed falling pieces of what had once been -one- of the biggest empires#-as the byzantine empire (or also known as eastern roman empire) was the continuation of the roman empire-#basically he sort of inherited an empire that was already crumbling#there is that self imposed weight of the entire history of an empire ending with him#everything he admired; the hopes and fears and dreams of his people; he feels that weight deeply#this is one of the explanations in regards to my interpretetion as of why he decided to die on the battlefield#not like an emperor; but more as like one more of the people who were fighting for c.onstantinople#i feel like deep down he knew it was inevitable; yet this proved little to hinder him#'as my city falls; i will fall with it'#there was simply no other path he would have choosen#escaping to live for another day was unthinkable for him#i also feel like besides him perceiving this response as nothing but his natural role as an emperor#there's also some sort of;; atoning for his failure to protect c.onstantinople and holding the crumbling pieces of an empire with-#his own death#if he had escaped he would have probably never forgiven himself#'you out of the finest candidates were chosen to be a sacrificial lion in golden chains'#ALSO THE RESULT; 'THE CHOSEN ONE'#SOMETHING ABOUT;;#REMINDS ME ABOUT HOW ITS OFTEN SAID that its a curious thing how the new rome was founded by c.onstantine the great#and fell by another c.onstantine#and how old rome was founded by romulus and lost to another romulus
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chisatowo · 2 years
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Some Mocha doodles to cool off from today
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lovebugism · 3 months
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istg that “just because you’re beautiful and a good kisser does not mean i forgive you.” “you think i’m beautiful?” is sooooo eddie coded.
i'm picturing a sorta enemies to lovers with eddie pulling yet another prank on reader (we all know this boy has the emotional maturity of a five year old when it comes to making a move on the girl he likes) but he really does hurt her feelings this time so he tries to make it up to her and they end up kissing.
from what you've written before i think you could put a great spin on this sorta scenario, if you feel like it <3
hope you like it! :D — you're eddie munson's biggest enemy. and, yes, you're also his soulmate. (enemies to lovers, secret relationship, 0.9k)
bug's one year celebration ♡
You storm into the bustling lunch room, having traded your pretty corseted blouse for a piece of oversized Corroded Coffin merch — definitely not by choice. “Do you have a death wish?” you ask when you reach the Hellfire table at the very back of the cafeteria, zeroed in on its leader at the head of it.
Eddie turns slowly, blinking up at you with innocent button eyes. His chews through the hamburger wadded in his cheek. “Potentially,” he answers, muffled before he swallows it down.
You huff, too easily frustrated. It isn’t any wonder why he likes to mess with you so much. “Where are my clothes?” 
“The ones you left on my bedroom floor last night or…?”
“No, you idiot— The clothes you stole from the girl’s locker room. Which makes you a total perv, by the way.”
“Oh, that sexy little number?” he croons, turning in his seat to face you more. “It’s in my locker, actually.”
“Well, get it out,” you say with gritted teeth.
He thinks for a moment, pursing his lips to the side. “Hm… I don’t think I will.”
Your jaw tightens. “Why?”
“‘Cause it’s a little revealing, don’t you think?”
“Well, yeah, that’s kinda the point, Munson.”
He smacks his lips against his teeth, then scrunches the bridge of his nose. He wags a sarcastic, ringed finger at you. “See— Those aren’t the values a nice girl like you should have—”
“God, you’re infuriating,” you groan and stomp off again.
Eddie smiles to himself while he watches you go, cheek tilted lazily to his shoulder. The only thing he likes better than seeing you come (in more ways than one) is watching you leave.
He sighs a deep, contented sigh and turns back to the rest of the table. They’re all wide-eyed and silent, still musing on the sudden interaction with the disbelief that it had happened at all.
Eddie only grins, wider this time. “Ah… She’s obsessed with me.”
—————
By the end of the school day, your blouse hasn’t yet been returned to you. You’re still stuck in the stupid shirt Eddie had left for you — all black, too big, and obviously his. You know it belongs to him because you’ve worn it thousands of times while sleeping over at his place. It smells just like him, like weed and cologne and boy.
You’re heading towards the exits when a hand pulls you into an abandoned classroom around the corner — pale, ringed, and lanky. As if you needed any further confirmation it was Eddie Munson. 
You stumble in, and he locks it behind you.
“Don’t you think you’ve bothered me enough today?” you squint.
“Oh, so you don’t want your shirt back?” he teases, waving the thing in his free hand. You reach for it, and he snatches it back, smirking softly down at you. “Uh-uh. What’s the magic word, sweetheart.”
“Give me my shirt back,” you answer in a monotone.
“Not even close, but I’ll give you a kiss for it.”
You sigh like it’s a chore for you and lean in to kiss his cheek. Your lips just barely graze his stubbly jaw. Eddie shrugs. “You missed, but I’m feeling nice today, so—”
You snatch it from him when he hands it to you. “You can’t keep doing this, Eds. We’re supposed to hate each other.”
“Well, one, we do hate each other. Obviously,” he scoffs and leans back on one of the desks. It shifts under his weight, and he stumbles. He decides to sit on it completely while you laugh. “And two, this was, like, a genius prank on my end. I made my arch nemesis walk around in my shirt all day— you’re not giving me enough credit for this, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, except I got called the freak’s girlfriend all day.”
“By who?”
“Who do you think?”
He ponders for a moment. “…Jason?”
You nod, all slow because it’s obvious. The only one who hates Eddie more than you do is Jason Carver. You wonder if he’s secretly in love with the town freak, too.
“Well, it’s about time he knows who you belong to,” the boy says with a laugh. “He’s only been trying to get with you for two years.”
You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t belong to anyone— I’m not a toy.”
“Well, yeah— only when you wanna be,” Eddie teases, reaching out for you. His ringed fingers curl around your wrist to pull you closer. You sigh in annoyance but walk between his thighs anyway.
“You’re so annoying.”
Eddie grins, pink and boyish. “But you like me anyway. So who’s the real loser?”
“I thought we hated each other,” you quip with narrowed eyes.
“I was kidding— Just kiss me.”
You giggle quietly and lean in to peck his lips. He tastes like nicotine and spearmint, mouth soft like flower petals. You get lost in him too easily. One peck becomes two — then three — then a longer, languid, and more drawn-out thing.
You feel Eddie smile against you, knowing he’s won now that you’re melting for him. You pull away with a smack when you regain your senses.
“Just because you’re pretty and a good kisser, doesn’t mean I forgive you, by the way. You know that, right?”
“Mhmm,” he hums mindlessly, already leaning forward to kiss you again.
You pull softly back. “And that I’m totally getting you back for this?”
“Yep.” He pecks your lips once, with a lot more self-restraint than you’d had. “So… When are you coming over to get the clothes you left at my place last night?”
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funficwriter · 7 months
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Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!
A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!
Warnings; None, really.
Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)
Lyney
First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!
If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.
(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)
Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.
He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.
If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.
"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."
Lynette
It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.
She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.
She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.
Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.
"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".
She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".
Neuvillette
You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.
For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.
First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.
He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.
(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)
If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.
While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...
"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".
Navia
She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!
If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.
Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.
Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.
She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.
With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.
"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".
Furina
"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"
Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.
She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!
One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.
She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.
"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"
If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3
Wriothesley
"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".
Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.
Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".
So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.
"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".
I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜
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kuiinncedes · 2 years
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is there no more emoji confetti when u submit on canvas 😭😭😭😭
#genuinely terrible news idk what they fucking did to canvas over the summer but everything i've seen that seems updated is bad lol#/hj it's not that bad it's just like when i was trying to move my classes around on the dashboard u can't drag them anymore u have to clic#move to top or whatever and even then at leaast for me it wouldn't even do it right away idk#anyway i never liked canvas that much and well it's not growing on me bc it got worse XD#also this assignment i can't tell if i'm just dumb and don't know how college works or if it rly is just vague af bc all the prof told us#was read and summarize this piece min 350 words double spaced and my dumb ass can't tell if we're supposed to like#cite things???? cite the thing we're summarizing?????? have i never summarized shit in college before why am i#anyway i just submitted it bc i was like ugh i'm done with this long ass dense ass reading it was rly interesting#but it was so long and hard to understand lmfao#also this prof uses nonbinary pronouns but idk which one it is in writing lol idk if it's xe/xyr or ze/zir?? are they pronounced the same#lemme look into that real quick before i talk about my prof again lol#i have another nonbinary prof tho idk why that made me rly happy to see :'')#they came into class w a full length rainbow skirt and a shirt that said something on it i couldn't read it but it was also rainbow block#letters lol they also seem rly young but they're a rly good lecturer#like even after only one lecture but like they were rly making everything sound interesting#in discrete math lol but like they were making me interested XD#like bc they were very clearly interested and passionate about it yo we love a good prof lol#my other math prof for my probability class is . less interesting but he's not ... that bad yet lol im not the biggest fan tho 🤪#he kinda mumbles ngl and his teaching style is kinda annoying sometimes lol but . we'll see :P#also my fourth class since we're just going thru it all lmao the postdoc teachign it (is he a prof idk what to call anyone lmfao)#seems rly nice and chill i don't love his teaching style so far either lmfao but he seems nice lol#anyway is this just me making an excuse to ramble about all the things i've been thinking about the first few days of school XD ashdgjksdfh#it's been a lot i won't do All of that lmao#i keep procrastinating class with glowstick club things lmao 🤪 but i do have a lot of glowstick club things to do#anyway lemme shut up now XD i was pretty productive today tho :] it always does start out like that tho and then it all goes downhill#jeanne talks
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mariasont · 8 days
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Office Sleepover - A.H
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a/n: this is honestly kind of shit but whatever
might make this a mini series?
part two here!
‧₊˚ ✩°。⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆。°✩˚₊‧
pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader
summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)
warnings: reader kind of flashes hotch, really inconsistent with how the gov works i'm sure, there's also definitely not an oven in the break room but in my world there is <3
wc: 3.8k
Hotch's voice reached you, but the words tangled into an indecipherable code as they hit the air. You nodded, a reflex, but it was as if your brain had short-circuited. You could make out fragments--a hit on you, stay at office, 24/7 protection, you can take the back office. But no matter how many times he said it, it seemed to ricochet through your head, making less sense each time. You were on a hit list? A hit list?
It all felt very made up, like a script ripped straight out of a tv show. Risk was a part of the BAU job description, but a hit list? For a fleeting moment, a chuckle hovered at the brink of your lips, but it was swiftly swallowed by a wave of dread that rose in its place. You blinked a couple times, probably too many in a vain attempt to clear the fog and bring Hotch's face into focus.
"But what about all my stuff? And you want me to camp out here in the office? For how long, Hotch? I mean, I'm all for overtime, but this is... this is a lot, and I--," you babble, your speech racing ahead of your thoughts. "And my baking? That's my biggest stress reliever. Not to mention my DIY projects--I can't just abandon my half-finished throw pillowcases. Plus, how many pairs of shoes is too many for an office closet?"
Your pout formed a delicate bow, and though he said nothing, his eyes softened. Hotch could feel the frown marring his features. He might never say it, but seeing you like this struck a chord, making it a little hard to breathe. 
Circling the desk, he planted himself in front of you, his hand settling on your shoulder. "Hey, take a deep breath," he urges softly. "Let's take it one step at a time. List out what you need, someone will bring it here. Your baking supplies, DIY projects, even your shoes."
True to Hotch's word, as usual, you found every piece of your life carefully compartmentalized into cardboard boxes, lined up carefully in the office that now doubled as your temporary room. There was an odd sense of dislocation in finishing your workday and needing only to count about thirty steps before arriving at your room.
You swung the door closed, the sound sealing the room as a deep sigh wrapped around you and you started sifting through the boxes. The pullout couch serving as your bed was less than appealing, its worn fabric making you grimace internally. Nevertheless, you diverted your attention, busying yourself with the organizing of your extensive collection of things. Spencer would definitely shake his head at the sight of the vast amount of clothes you had brought.
The irony wasn't lost on you; surrounded by the office's ceaseless motion, yet you felt more alone than in the stillness of your own apartment. God, this was pathetic, and you needed a drink, but you had a nagging suspicion the office handbook would have a thing or two to say about that. You spent a solid two hours attempting to infuse the sterile space with a touch of home, it wasn't perfect (at all), but it would have to do.
Rossi knocks on the doorframe, poking his head in with a grin. "I didn't realize we were redecorating the bureau in shades of bubblegum," he teases. "How you doing, kid?"
"Actually, it's blush," you correct with a mock-serious tone, meeting his smile with one of your own. "I'm fine," you insist, but Rossi's knowing look prompts a quick add-on. "I am, really, I mean I've always said I wanted my own office."
"An office with a view of the bullpen, no less. You're living the dream," he says, his eyes scanning the room. "Need any help with anything? Or anything else from your place? Maybe your favorite mug to make feel more like home?"
"Don't worry, I'm already one step ahead of you," you assure him, revealing a drawer brimming with mugs.
Rossi lets out a low appreciative whistle. "Why am I not surprised?" he chuckles with a broad grin. "Well, I'm heading out for the night. Remember, I'm just a call away if you need anything. And Hotch is still here, buried in paperwork as usual."
He left, and you were alone--a cue to try and cling to some normalcy of your routine; you drew the blinds and slipped into the comfort of your pajamas. You hauled yourself off to the office bathroom, reluctantly at that, and proceeded to attend to your skincare, brush your hair, and polish your smile with a thorough teeth brushing.
Eyeing the hallway warily, you made a silent exit from the bathroom, the carpet softening your footfalls. But in your rush to avoid prying eyes, you crashed into a solid wall of a figure, the force sending you tumbling backward. You hit the floor with a muted thud, your ass hitting the ground, legs splayed inelegantly in front of you. Your eyes rose to meet the firm, penetrating look of Hotch. Of fucking course.
There was a pause as Hotch's eyes drank in the sight of your flushed complexion and the wide, doe-like eyes that seemed to capture the light just so. He felt like his heart could stop then and there. And he knew it was wrong, but he certainly liked the sight of you sprawled below him. He blinked, breaking the trance, and offered a concerned, "Are you okay?" His hands were outstretched, ready to pull you back to your feet. 
Your cheeks turned a deeper shade as you held onto Hotch's hand, the feeling unexpectedly comforting, rough in yours but nice. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm all good, sorry about that," you managed to say, the words squeaking out a tad too eagerly. 
You stood up, and his closeness was all-consuming. You were suddenly intensely aware of every breath, every throb of your heart, and your mind went blank; the usual stream of thoughts replaced by a buzzing silence.
His eyes held yours for a fraction longer than necessary before he stepped back, creating a respectful distance. The hallway's warmth seemed to dissipate with the space, leaving you with an unexpected stab of disappointment. 
"Rossi said you'd be here. Anything I can do to help?" 
You rationalized the offer as a gesture of your goodwill, but a small part, well a big part, of you knew just wanted to be close to him, to be alone with him maybe--in the office, after hours, in his office. This was weird, I mean, you'd always admired your Unit Chief, but this was different. You chalked it up to the day's unfortunate series of events--you were tired, and lonely, and you needed desperately to snap out of it before you made a fool out of yourself.
"No, you need to rest. It's been a long day, and you've been through enough." He paused, his gaze assessing you. "How are you holding up?"
"At this rate, I'll need a sign that says 'I'm fine,' to stop the check-ins." Although you silently doubted that would deter him. You gesture to the surroundings. "And this? It's like a sleepover at work. Just hoping this so-called hit man doesn't show up."
Hotch internally recoiled at your words, leaving him with the sensation of a cold grasp tightening around his heart. He cleared his throat, the joke falling flat in the gravity of his concern. "I'll be here for a while longer. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me," he managed a nod before retreating to his office.
A while longer? You knew Hotch was a workaholic, but it now occurred to you that he must never sleep. Quickly, you gathered your scattered belongings, and made your way to your office.
The pull-out couch seemed even less inviting than you remembered, if that was possible. You perched on the edge, the metallic frame cold through the thin mattress. As you lay down, the couch seemed to swallow you in its awkward angles. Perfect. Tossing and turning, you struggled to find a comfortable spot. Eventually, exhaustion won over discomfort, the rhythm of your own breathing lulling you into a fitful sleep.
Your eyes flickered open at some point during the night and the blinds drifted apart, as if by an unseen hand, and through the gap, your eyes fell on a hooded figure, the face not visible in the dim light. Your muscles locked in terror, an icy fear clawing its way up your spine as you tried to move--to reach for your gun, to call out for Hotch, to do anything. But as if imprisoned by an invisible force, you could only watch, confined to the bed, as the figure crept towards the door. 
A scream tore from your throat, a raw and piercing sound that ricocheted off the walls and echoed through your eyes. This was it, you thought. 
Then, in an instant, you were awake and disoriented, your breaths coming in short bursts, and your body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Your fingers clenched the sheets, the fabric twisting in your grasp as you fought to decipher what was reality. Your eyes snapped to the blinds, half-expecting to see the figure from your dream materialize, but the emptiness beyond them slowly calmed your racing heart.
With a throat dry as parchment and your pulse still echoing in your ears, you drifted from your room towards the break room. As you ambled past Hotch's office, you paused. The door, slightly ajar, felt like an invitation. Despite knowing better, a foggy curiosity nudged your feet forward. With a shaky breath, you eased the door open wider and slipped inside. 
His office felt different at night--it was quieter, more personal, and you felt like an intruder on Hotch's private world. You took a moment, absorbing the sight of his meticulously organized desk, the case files that were always present.
It was tempting to try to piece together the man from his workspace, but you held back. As you turned to leave, a familiar scent stopped you--the subtle hint of his cologne hanging in the air. It wrapped around you, easing the tension that had sunk into your limbs. Almost without thinking, you found yourself sinking into the couch.
The room, infused with his distinct scent, seemed to have your blinking growing heavier, more intentional. You nestled deeper into the cushions; the fabric familiar beneath your fingers, lulling you into a sense of security. Just five minutes, you thought.
Hotch's steps were slow, his eyelids having a hard time staying open as he made his way through the bullpen. He carried his briefcase, the leather handle worn and conformed to his hand. He contemplated a detour to your office, a silent check-in to ease his mind, but he dismissed the idea--you were probably still asleep, and he'd definitely look like a creep. Reaching his own office, he noticed the door ajar, a sliver of morning light spilling through the gap.
He stepped into the room, and time seemed to stand still as his gaze landed on the couch. There you were, fast asleep on his couch. Your hand lay gently under your cheek, a makeshift pillow softening the hard angles beneath, while your nose gave the faintest twitches. Your lips were parted as if mid-whisper and strands of your hair were splayed in a disarrayed crown around your head. He knew that in no way could that have been comfortable. It hurt his back just looking at you, but still you looked so peaceful.
He moved with quiet steps, heat creeping up his neck as he placed his things on the desk. Turning back to you, he couldn't help but notice the gentle dishevelment of your pajamas, buttons undone in innocent disarray, the fabric parting to reveal the gentle slope of your breasts. He felt an odd mix of emotions--a gentle chiding for finding you in such state, and the guilt of finding the sight so undeniably sweet. 
A quiet cough escaped him, more out of habit than necessity, as he approached a cabinet where blankets were neatly stacked--a nod to many nights spent just as you were. He draped one over you, his movements slow and unhurried, shielding you from potential curious eyes before finding his normal place behind the wooden desk.
He tried to focus--really, he did. I mean, he had a towering pile of paperwork and responsibilities that demanded his attention. But despite his best efforts, his gaze involuntarily drifted to you time and time again. It was as if he needed visual confirmation of your steady breathing to assure himself that you were okay. He thought about you here all night, alone, and he found his knuckles whiten against the grip of his pen. He knew you had security on you at all times, but somehow, he found no comfort in that.
Hotch's eyes flicked to the clock--7:30 am. You still had at least another half an hour before you technically needed to start work, although truth be told he would let you sleep as long as your body allowed. There was no way in hell he was going to disturb you when you looked so content. 
As Hotch worked, the morning light grew stronger, casting a warm glow over his desk. It was nearly 9 am when the sound of shifting fabric eventually roused you. You were waking up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, confusion etched on your face. As your eyes caught sight of the clock and Hotch, mortification set it. 
"Oh my gosh, Hotch. I am so sorry," you blurted out, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "You could've woken me up--I... I should've set an alarm. And I shouldn't even be here, but I can explain, sort of..."
In a flurry of motion, you leapt from the couch, only to feel a sudden tug at your chest as a button from your top snagged on a stray thread. The fabric pulled open, revealing way more than what was appropriate for your boss to see. Your face turned a shade redder as you scrambled to cover up. Hotch, momentarily sidetracked by the sight of the cleavage of your tits once again, quickly refocused and interrupted your flustered explanations.
"It's fine," he assured. "Given everything that's happened, you needed the rest." He nodded towards the couch. "You're always welcome to sleep here if you need to--though I can't promise it'll be any more comfortable next time."
"Oh no, it was super comfortable, really," you insist, despite the awkwardness clinging to your words. Hotch gives you a look that says he's not entirely convinced. "Okay, well, I'm going to uh... go," you mumble, stopping short at the door with a sudden concern.
Hotch understands immediately and offers, "They're all in the briefing room--won't be out for a while."
With a relieved nod, and minimal eye contact, you dash out, hoping to reach your office unnoticed. But because the world just hated you these past days, just as you're rushing by, Morgan's hands come to your shoulders to stop you.
"Easy there, mama," he teases, a smile on his face. But as he gets a good look at your attire, his grin grows wider. "What in the world...?" he starts, laughter in his voice. He glances from you to Hotch's office door, then back again. "Hold up, hold up--you didn't... with Hotch? Are you?"
"What? No, Morgan, absolutely not! Why would you even--oh my god," you gasp, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. God, I mean, the day hasn't even started, and you needed it to end. Realizing your voice has risen in your flustered state, you quickly lower it to a harsh whisper, your eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard. "Why would you even suggest that?"
"Um, maybe because you're making a grand exit from the boss man's office in your PJs? Just a wild guess."
"No, Morgan, it's not what you think," you insist, but your attention snaps to the sound of the team's voices nearing the door. "I don't have time for this," you mutter, darting back to your office. 
In a whirlwind, you shed the pajamas, slip into your work attire, and hastily run a brush through your hair. Good enough. 
You threw yourself into work, the stack of papers becoming a welcome distraction, a rare sense of relief rather than the familiar dread. It was a considerable effort to divert your mind from the distractions--Hotch, the hit man, and Morgan's incessant teasing. Not that anyone would believe that you and Hotch were together; he was the very definition of sophisticated, handsome, and successful, and you were just, well, you.
Not that there was anything wrong with you. You liked yourself just fine; you laughed too loudly at jokes, talked to your houseplants as if they were your old friends, and you had an odd fascination with weather patterns. These things made you wholly you. You just knew you couldn't be more different from Hotch.
With a bit of luck and purposeful avoiding, your day passed smoothly, sparing you any unnecessary run-ins with Hotch. Everyone had gone home for the day which is why you stood in the break room attempting some baking recipe from Pinterest. 
The slippers on your feet padded against the carpet as you hummed around the room. With swift motions, you ushered the coffee cake batter into the oven, then turned to tackle the mess you had created on the countertops. Cleaning as you go wasn't your usual style, but office break room didn't seem like the place for your usual creative sprawl. 
Your phone had buzzed incessantly with Penelope's calls--her offers the keep you company is why you loved her, but you weren't going to subject her to that, no matter how many times she said she didn't mind.
Hotch's office was quiet, save for the soft scratching of his pen against paper as he finally closed his files. He moved into bullpen and as he passed the breakroom, the soft hum of the light and faint sound of movement drew him in. There you were, engrossed in tidying up, with your hair casually gathered above your shoulders and wearing your sweats, Hotch found him instinctively pausing to watch. 
He knew he shouldn't bother you, knew he was likely the last person you'd want to see, yet he found himself rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on you, the warmth in his chest intensifying with each fleeting second.
The moment you turned and saw a figure, a sharp gasp cut through the silence, and the icing in your grasp became a sweet projectile that flew across the room. Relief washed over you as you realized who it was.
"Jeez, Hotch, give me a heart attack why don't you," you said, half-laughing as your heart rate settled. "Especially when there's a hitman who might beat you to the punch."
Hotch parted his lips to speak, but you were quicker, a stream of thoughts tumbling out before you could stop them. "I thought everyone was gone. You weren't at your desk earlier--oh wait, you had that meeting with the DOJ, right? Did they have anything about the people who marked me?" 
In your haste, you closed the gap between you, and only then did you spot the icing on his cheek. "Oh, sorry about that, Hotch," you said with an apologetic grin, reaching out as if to wipe it away. 
As your palm made contact with his skin, a shared realization of the intimacy of the gesture washed over you. Time seemed to slow as your thumb traced a lingering path through the icing, your whisper barely audible, "There."
The word seemed to hang in the air as you froze, the proximity suddenly overwhelming, your breath caught in your throat. Hotch's backward step was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. You cleared your throat awkwardly, cheeks warming with a flush. "Um, did you need something?"
Hotch shook his head slightly, "No, just wanted to check on you before I head out."
You gave a thumbs up, mustering a smile. "Well, consider me checked."
Hotch nodded, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight," he said, to which you echoed in response as you watched him leave.
Alone now, you slumped against the counter, your hand pressed to your face. Consider me checked? God, someone needed to tape your mouth shut.
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gi4hao · 23 days
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☆ dino x gn!reader — domestic fluff!
☆ from repairing a sink to love confessions on the kitchen floor
9pm is right around the corner, and you know for a fact that your boyfriend is far from being done with repairing the leak under your kitchen sink. but of course he won’t accept defeat, which is why you resorted to having dinner on the floor, sat next to him to keep him company.
“you really should go lie down on the couch” chan tells you from beneath the sink, his voice muffled and punctuated by the clinks of his tools. “this isn’t good for your back.”
he’s not wrong, this position is definitely not the comfiest even though you managed to rest against a piece of furniture. but the view isn’t so bad here, you think to yourself, contently watching his arms flex as he twists and tightens metal pieces here and there.
“but if i leave who’s going to feed you those baby tomatoes?” you ask, looking at the half-eaten bowl in front of you.
putting his tools down, he emerges from under the sink with a contented sigh, stretching his limbs as he sits upright. “you’re such a simp” he chuckles, yet still gladly opens his mouth for you to throw yet another tomato inside.
with an exaggerated scoff, you put a hand over your heart in mock offense: “excuse me? says the biggest simp ever?”
the thing is, you don’t even mind being called a simp; you’re lucid enough to know that it’s only the truth. similarly, chan doesn’t mind it either, but it’s just so much more entertaining to deny and act like it offends him.
“if there’s a simp in this room it’s definitely you. and allow me to tell you why…” you tell him as he returns to the small confined space below your countertop.
you don’t even have to make an effort to gather your thoughts, countless examples just flow naturally into your brain: “first of all, you always carry me on your back when we’re walking back home from a party. you kiss me goodbye every morning even when i’m still asleep. you have a picture of me in your wallet, i’m your phone and ipad wallpaper. also, you keep a secret box on your side of the closet where you put all the receipts from our dates…”
a few seconds of silence follow your words.
when you lean to your side to finally catch a glimpse of your quiet boyfriend, it turns out he’s looking right back at you, a surprised expression painted on his face: “i didn’t know you knew about the box.”
suddenly, he gets the funny sensation that you’re definitely going to win this round.
“i know many things” you affirm, a satisfied smile on your lips as you keep going: “i know that you always keep one of my doodles in your phone case. i know that you bought duplicates of my skincare products to keep in your car as an emergency kit. and i also may or may not have heard you talk to seungkwan about me…”
this time, it’s a loud bang that comes to punctuate your sentence. but before you can even start to worry, chan yells a reassuring “i’m okay!” before getting out of there once again, “just dropped my tool, that’s all. but now let’s circle back to what you just said…”
with a chuckle, you notice a slight embarrassment spreading on his face, his cheeks turning a familiar shade of pink.
your relationship has never been a secret, so it wasn’t a surprise to know that he likely spoke about you to the other members. however, you hadn’t truly considered the nature of those conversations until a few months ago, when you had sort of eavesdropped on a discussion.
“don’t be embarrassed” you reassure him, a playful spark in your eyes: “it was nice to hear you describe us as a “perfect match” and feeling like “a married couple already, but in the best possible way”.
at this point, his surrender is palpable. “okay, you win. maybe i am a simp,” he concedes, a mixture of defeat and self-consciousness coloring his voice. his shoulders sag slightly, but his gaze is still full of affection. “i can’t deny it anymore. just like i can’t deny that I’m not a handyman. i actually have no idea if I’m fixing this thing or just making it worse.”
“i think it’s time to leave the plumbing to the experts,” you tease, taking the screwdriver out of his hands, “let’s bail on this floor and go cuddle on the couch; i’ll order some proper food.”
with just those words, he flashes you a bright smile, one that you know so well you could sketch it from memory. as he rises to his feet, he looks at you earnestly: “i meant what i said to seungkwan, you know,” he confesses, his voice softer than usual.
you take a brief moment to let his words and his sincerity sink in: “i know, baby,” you reply, your own voice matching his softness as you grab his hand to get up. “and that’s exactly how i feel too.”
his smile grows even bigger, relieved to see that you not only understand the depth of his love for you, but reflect it back to him as well. it’s all he’s ever hoped for, really — to find someone he could trust implicitly, someone he could pour all his love into, knowing it would be returned with the same intensity.
“we really are made for each other,” he states, giving you a proud nod as he pulls you close, arms wrapped around your waist.
“yeah, look at us. in love, both clueless about fixing that sink. perfect match.”
with a heartfelt laugh, chan gently rests his hand on your neck, pulling you closer for a kiss; the kind that lingers for a few more seconds than what you expected. just enough time for the both of you to think about how lucky you are to have found each other in this lifetime.
requests are open!
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pray4byron · 1 month
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hiiii!! i was wondering if perchance i could request head canons or a one shot (whichever you see more fit) of how [character] is on their first date with [reader]
the characters im rlly invested in are alastor, vox, velvette, angel & husk 💗
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𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐨𝐱, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
a/n: i’m so sorry requests have been so slow, my show is almost done (closing night is today) so i’ll be able to get to requests after that!! and i tried to make this a bit longer than my normal pieces so i hope i did okay? we’re almost at 700 btw so tysm for that <3
warnings: profanity, mentions of sex in vox’s part (no smut), mentions of valentino, implied!masc reader in angel’s section — the rest are gn
proofread: no 😔
tags: x reader, alastor, husk hazbin hotel, angel dust, headcanons, the vees
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𝐯𝐨𝐱
vox would probably enjoy a night in the most, honestly, fans can irk him a fair bit, and he wants tonight to be about you and him alone
he’d probably get some of his more decent employees to be like waiters, and let’s be real, even if you were only in vox’s quarters, you both would still be dolled up
seeing as this is only the first date, vox’s “show host” persona is still very present, he’s not ready to let his walls down quite yet, he’ll sit there and boast about how fucking amazing he is for most of the date
but you’d be surprised, when you speak, vox won’t shut down anything you’d say, he’s an extremely good listener — it mainly comes from how he has to listen to boring meetings, even when he doesn’t want to, but as much as he won’t admit it, he could listen to you talk anyday
when the end of the date comes, you’re either gonna end up spending the night at his, whether it ends in sex with him or falling asleep on the couch together in the middle of a movie is a bit of a 50/50
OR he’s gonna end up driving you home, mainly because he doesn’t enjoy just walking about the streets of hell, because so many people come up to him, and also cause he doesn’t want to risk putting you in harms way, but also because he wants to flex his fancy ass car…
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𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭
like vox, he’d also probably enjoy a date in a more private settings — due to the type of fans he has, the contract he’s under, along with many other things
but angel has a preference for more relaxed dates, he’d bring you into his room the hotel and end up having a massive sleepover — movies, skincare, gossip seshs, etc. whatever you ask for, he’ll give ya!!
after valentino, i can see angel only really taking interest in people who he’s known for a long time/has a strong bond with — so considering the fact that he’s most likely known you for a long time, this is probably when he’s gonna be more affectionate — possible cuddles, kisses, etc
but even with that, angel really considers first dates as a ‘get to know you’ sorta thing, so he wants to hear all about you, and share stories with you about him as well! you two will probably play games like 21 questions or truth or dare but with mostly truths 😭🙏
honestly, angel will probably spend more time telling you about molly (his sister) then himself, he misses her a lot, and she was one of the biggest parts of him and he loves telling you stories about them together in their lifetime
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𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞
in contrast to vox, she would love to go out somewhere for a first date, more specifically, the mall! she may end up treating the first date as more a girls trip, but trust me, it isn’t her way of friend zoning you in the slightest!!
the stores in the mall that she’d most likely wanna hit up are the clothing stores and makeup stores (duh)
she’d try on a bunch of fits for you in a ‘fashion run-way’ kind-of manner and force outfits into your arms and rush you to do the same
and in makeup stores, she’d grab a bunch of lip-oil testers and swatch them on your arm and see which ones she thinks look the best — and she’d also try to find your foundation shade match or something like that
then you goes would probably stop at a food court and she would sit there and just yap, i can see velvette as a big rambler, she can be very expressive with her words, especially when it comes to her passion topics, so she really grows to appreciate you if you decide to hear her out
and side note; if you guys run into one of her fans, she’ll make sure you see it, she needs you to know how fucking hot and famous she is
the both of you will probably stay until the mall is about to close, and then you’ll walk her home, but don’t worry, she’ll give you a small kiss for being so good ~
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𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤
honestly, husk would kinda be at loss a for what to do for a ‘date’ — it’s been a long damn time since he’s been romantically interested in someone, so he’s not too sure where to start
he’ll end up going to charlie for help, or angel, and he ends up deciding to take you out to a small diner that’s just a stroll away from the hotel
it’s not great there by any means, but it’s not bad, but more importantly, it’s safe, and that’s all he really wants for you
you two will spend most of the time conversing in conversation, nothing too crazy or life changing, but simple ice breakers here and there, husker is more awkward than you may think
despite the fact that he thinks it’s so fucking stupid, he takes charlie’s idea to share a smoothie with you, which ends up back-firing as he takes a sip and it goes through and up your straw and splatters onto your face
and you can’t help but blush as he gets a little too close to you as he wipes the smoothie off of your face with a few napkins…
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𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫
alastor is a gentlemen, who aims to please, so he has a number of activities for you that are bound to blow you out of the water, even if the idea is simple on paper
first, he starts off by taking you out to dinner, the fanciest restaurant he could find, you both are dressed up to a tee
he makes sure to feed you every last bite of your food, treating you like a pet, its so sickeningly sweet you didn’t whether to be slightly offended or swoon right then and there
then he takes you out to a nice park, even if it’s already dark out, and he’ll have you on his arm and take a simple stroll with you, the attention is fully on you and he won’t shy away from giving you all the praise possible
shortly after, alastor will get his staff and play some gentle jazz music as you both sway under the hellish stars on what seems to be such a blissful night ~
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i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.
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lacybunie · 3 months
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adieu, mon dieu!
“forgive me, father, for i have committed the biggest sin of all!”
pairing: afab!reader x re4r!leon
warnings: smut, virginity loss, blasphemy, dub-con, inexperienced/pure reader, religious reader, manipulation, cum eating, creampie, pussy slapping, pet names, breeding kink, slight choking, crying during sex, age gap mention (reader is 19 while leon is 27), fingering, porn with plot (?), bit of ooc leon
note: first time writing hence why it’s so long :3 also wrote this based on leon saying “i’ll give you a holy body” in re4r bc nobody freaks out over it like i do
“holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners.” the prayer is muscle memory. a smile adorns your face as you walk out of sunday mass with your family. oh how you cherish the time spent in god’s temple. you would not have it any other way. this small, quiet town in washington homes jesus freaks like yourself. where every summer, all children through teens spend their time at church camp. cross necklaces or rosaries are worn around the necks of bypassers and neighbors. you feel as though you are blessed with such a life.
so when leon appears in your life, you think you’re the most blessed girl alive. as the two of you go steady, he starts attending church with you and listens to the word of the lord with you in his black jeep. he listens to your prayers and readings of the bible. leon couldn’t be anymore perfect. “our heavenly father has blessed me with a man who loves me.” pink hues flush your cheeks as you smile giddishly during confession. “do not let temptation fool you.” the priest on the other side taunts, almost as if it’s a warning.
the people of the church disagree with the relationship you have with leon, the eight year gap between you two. more so, they dislike leon. they tell you he is not a man of the lord, he is a walking sin. they share their stories of glancing at him during mass and how he’s appearing to hold back laughter, how he doesn’t actually consume the blood and body of christ, how his eyes are filled with something evil. you choose to not believe them as they don’t know leon as you do. “he is nothing like that, sister olivia.” you defend during sunday lunch, biting your tongue. “you have found the devil in a lover.” sister olivia spews with disgust.
her words are a distraction during your date, echoing and bleeding into the grooves of your brain. “sweetheart?” leon calls as he catches your zoned out state. your eyes connect with his, you break yourself out of thought. “i’m sorry, i was just lost in thought.” you apologize, gleaming with a shy smile. the warmth of leon’s hand engulfs yours across the table, the cold silver of your ring turning hot. “i was asking if you would want to go back to my place after this?” leon repeats what you had muffled seconds ago.
“i’ll have to ask my dad first.” you embarrassingly respond as pinks heat your cheeks. there’s limited privacy with leon, daytime stays at his home with an hour max limit and once every two weeks only. your father implemented this as a way to keep a better piece of mind. “c’mon sweetheart, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” leon persuades with sugar on his tongue. the veil of orange from the candles illuminating the table is covering his face, you might just burst from the ethereal beauty he holds. he’s saying something color-coded yet it’s muffled as the tidal wave of his eyes are drowning you. “okay.” you mindlessly respond, leon faintly smirks.
the little skirt you wear is almost halfway off while you and leon makeout on his couch, something you shamelessly leave out during confessions. you keep your hands on his broad shoulders while he dangerously lingers his hands at your hips and thighs. you think you’re seeping through your panties as you feel a wet patch forming, making you feel bothered. “i feel weird.” you pant between a kiss, lungs aflame from the little oxygen you grant yourself. leon pulls away with furrowing eyebrows, “did i do something wrong?”
yet you’re struggling to understand what IS wrong. why do you feel so…wet down there? maybe you started your period but you realize it ended a week ago. leon’s eyes are burning into your skin, the gaze causing you to feel mortified. how can you tell him this? what if he thinks you’re weird? his girlfriend is wetting herself like a damn fool for no reason. “what is it?” that soft tone of his makes you feel even worse. embarrassment is starting to creep itself into the flesh of your body.
“i feel wet.” you say it so clearly and slowly as if you’re dumbing it down for yourself. you don’t know why you feel like this and you don’t know why it’s happening. leon smiles at the frustration you show, clearly not thinking of your situation weirdly. “that’s a good thing, doll.” he coos while holding your hands. head tilting and ditzy eyes searching for an answer, you are clueless by how this is a good thing. “what do you mean, leon?” “you’re turned on, that’s what i mean.” the blood pumping into your heart turns cold at the realization of what you have let yourself done. one of the deadliest sins of all: lust
how can you let yourself get carried away and almost give into something sacred? something you promised to your heavenly father that you will wait till marriage to do? you clutch the rosary wrapped around your neck, “please forgive me. i’m sorry, leon.” you think leon must be feeling the same way too, realizing you both almost gave into sin. oh how awful he must feel, to almost have betrayed the lord and gave into temptation. leon searches your face in hopes to find something you’re not sure of. “why are you apologizing?” he questions, hands no longer embracing your own.
“for getting you caught up in almost sinning.” “it’s not a bad thing to be turned on.” his voice is laced with something unfamiliar, a tone you’re not even aware of. “but it can lead to having sex and we’re not-” “there’s nothing bad about having sex either.” leon interrupts with annoyance. you can’t fathom how he thinks premature sex is not bad, he’s read the bible with you countless times. the purity ring wrapped around your finger symbolizes the commitment you vowed to and he’s reminded every time he holds your hand. “we can’t have sex, leon. you know that.”
“do you not love me?” leon is frowning at you, taking you aback with his words. “i love you, leon. of course i do.” you profusely confess as you get closer to him. the weight of your chest growing heavy while he shakes his head. “you’re supposed to have sex with the one you love right? then why don’t you? if you love me enough, then it’s not sin.” leon preaches with eyes glimmering with something indescribable. “we won’t have sex, we’ll be making love. that’s different. the lord doesn’t view it as sin.”
different strokes of blue are piercing into your soul, almost like his eyes are trapping you. your mind is foggy as you try to think of something to say. “i don’t think...” you trail off with unsure certainty, but what you want to actually say becomes lost in thought as leon’s cherry-bruised lips pull apart in a smile. you think he’s right, it’s something you probably skimmed over. cold hands caress your bare thighs, leon’s lips kiss the skin below your jaw. “you know i’m right, doll.” he mutters while his teeth lightly nip your skin, you grow hot. “i would never lie to such a pretty angel.”
“i’ll make you feel so good.” leon promises with his hands scrunching up your skirt. the sudden action causing your heart to burst within itself. your dry mouth defeats the words wanting to escape, to tell him to not touch there. you’re also battling the urge to let yourself do so as his hands grasp your inner thigh, sending a rush throughout your body. doe eyes noticing the way leon is looking at you as if you’re a sheep, tethered in his sharp teeth, bracing to become a meal.
two fingers rub you over your panties, the new feeling quickly has you inhale sharply. butterflies flutter around in your abdomen. leon hums as his fingers gather your essence that is leaking through the fabric. “there you are, pretty.” leon lays you further down on the couch. his lips kiss you again roughly and you grip at his bicep as his hands quickly discard your skirt. leon impatiently pulls away from your lips to look at the newly found view, lilac panties adorned with a baby blue ribbon. leon’s favorite color.
the wetness from earlier feels as if it’s completely soaking the fabric. you feel utterly exposed like this, so vulnerable in front of leon. “you’re so fucking sexy.” he sighs out once he finally removes the one thing keeping him away from your forbidden fruit. “please leon.” you’re unsure if you’re begging or pleading. the temperature of your body is uncomfortably hot and you’re sure it’s because your soul is already spiraling down to hell. you want to stop leon from inserting his finger into your sopping cunt, but of course you don’t.
“have you ever touched yourself, doll?” leon asks, while fingering you agonizingly slow. you crave for more, not exactly sure of what. you need more of him. you’re heaving at this point, staring into leon’s eyes as he watches you unfold before him, a flower blooming almost too late. “i’m not supposed to.” you choke out the answer while he begins to messily rub your clit. the smirk resting on leon’s lips is haunting you, why does he always look so desirable with that stupid smirk?
“says who? your god?” leon pushes a second finger into your sopping hole, an uncomfortable stretch soon followed by an indescribable pleasure. the erotic sounds of your cunt being touched for the first time reach your hot pink ears. leon curls his fingers against your spongey walls causing you to squirm. the imaginary coil in your lower stomach feels like it’s on the brink of snapping.
“yes.” you moan while he lightly slaps your cunt. “what kind of god deprives his children of a pleasure such as this? don’t you feel good, angel? i know your pussy sure does.” leon smiles at your reaction for his choice of words, you forget how blunt he tends to be. “d-don’t say that.” “your god can’t be all that great if he won’t even let me feel how your pussy squeezes around my fingers.” the blasphemy hits you like a gunshot only temporarily, the pleasure you’re receiving rids it right away.
you’re shaking your head but you don’t know if it’s from the frustration of leon speaking against the lord or if you’re about to reach sweet relief. “leon.” you hiccup, the pleasure becoming too much and your mind is turning into mush. a tight grip on leon’s bicep has him chuckling, looking down at you so pathetically. “you look so fucking stupid. go ahead and cum for me, pretty.” he grants while your cunt is squeezing so tightly around his digits.
back arching off the couch along with the most pornographic moan to ever come out of your chest, the coil snaps. waves of ecstasy crashes within your body, releasing out of your sopping hole. your thighs are shaking to snap close but leon doesn’t let it happen as he gathers your essence up with his fingers. “god, you’re just so fucking perfect.” leon grunts before sticking his own fingers in his mouth, the honey he has been craving falls onto his tongue. you feel yourself get dizzy at the sight.
leon reaches down to give you a messy kiss, tasting your cum on his tongue. “wanna fuck you.” he moans into your mouth, his jeans rub against your cunt and you’re sure your cum smeared onto the denim. you want to stop right here, you want to run straight to church and plead for your life in the confessional booth. however, when leon pulls away to strip off his pants and his fat, long cock hits his abdomen, you feel that indescribable want grow stronger.
your breathing becomes heavy as leon rubs the tip of his cock at your entrance. his cock looks too big for you, fearing he’ll split you open. the taste of bitter metallic hits your tongue and you realize you’re biting your bottom lip too hard. “i’m so lucky.” leon grunts, dragging his thumb across your bleeding lip. “get to be the first to fuck this virgin pussy.” he barely pushes the tip into your tight cunt when you start crying. the pain of slight tearing mixed with the eternal damnation you’re going to face is cutting at your skin. “please.” your vision is blurry through the tears when leon pushes his cock fully into you, you can hear him let out a deep groan.
the way leon’s cock feels inside of you makes you feel so full. the pain of being ripped open for the first time is soon subsided by a mind clouded with desire, yet you’re still crying. leon moves in and out slowly but roughly, hitting a spot within you just right. you moan wearily, salty tears trickling down into your agape mouth. when leon begins to thrust a bit more hard, you’re sobbing out loud moans. leon presses his hand against your throat, “so fucking loud.” he’s snapping his hips into you, his cock bruising the inside of your cunt so sweetly that you feel the coil about to snap again.
“need to shut that mouth of yours next time.” leon grunts, looking at you in a haze. he squeezes your throat as if to test the waters and you choke out a needy moan, your cunt almost suffocating his cock at the action. “such a nasty girl.” leon smirks while picking up the pace of the abuse on your cunt. baby pink nails are scratching at leon’s biceps. you slur out an apology, clearly not in the right headspace to realize that leon is toying with the rosary tangled in your neck. “oh my-” you cut yourself off when leon’s cock repeatedly hits against a spot so sweet, the coil in your stomach feels like it’s tightening.
“say it.” leon taunts. his hand reaches down to messily rub at your clit once more, your eyes flutter shut. you know what he wants and you don’t think you can push yourself further into damnation by saying the lord’s name in vain. “c’mon, doll. tell your god how my cock is making you feel.” leon tightly wraps his fingers around the dainty rosary, you’re pleading at him through your eyes, mouth too occupied by the moans you let out. “leon please.” you cry out, you’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop the blasphemy or to make you cum.
leon soon loses himself in your cunt, grasping at your hips to drill his cock deeper in you. the stars in your eyes are getting brighter, you’re almost there. dirty blonde hair cover leon’s eyes, relieving yourself of the gaze he had on you. “gonna fucking breed you.” leon laps at your neck, biting at your soft skin as if it’s the bread he eats at church. “you want that? want me to fill you up?” you moan out a incoherent yes, too fucked out to understand what he’s even saying. leon captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongues relentlessly clash against each other.
leon’s cock hits that sweet spot one final time before the coil within you finally snaps. “oh my god, leon!” you moan so loudly, throat becoming faintly sore. your body is shaking at the ecstasy that’s somehow stronger than before, nails clawing at leon’s back that you feel like you may draw blood. “there you go, angel.” leon’s words are drowned out by pure euphoria. you feel the warm essence escape out of your cunt but it’s soon mixed with another hot feeling, leon’s own cum. he desperately shoves his cock into you to rid himself of every last drop. you look down to where you two are connected, the lewd sight brings you back down to earth.
if anyone were to rip open your chest to view the way your heart is pounding, almost punching itself out, they’d think you murdered a man. the burden of betrayal is sitting heavy on your shoulders, all the prayers in the world couldn’t save you now. when you look at leon, who is taking in the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt, the thought begins to become a crimson haze. a string of pearl beads clutched in leon’s fist catches your eye, you look up at him. a blue hue meet yours, the once bright shade now dark. leon lets out a daunting chuckle, “won’t be needing that anymore.”
sprawled out on his palm is a broken chain along with a few pearls and a tiny cross. leon ripped off your rosary.
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