Hellboy

Down in the B.P.R.D., Hellboy was being contained yet again when you were granted access to go see him. Whether it be his mouth or his temper that got him into trouble with the professor, you didn't know which, but either was likely possible. "I'm not sorry," he grumbled around the cigar in his mouth, keeping his back facing you as he continued his one-armed workout.

Cullen Rutherford

After leading the troops out of the room, Cullen didn't hesitate to close the door to its entirety, placing his palms firmly against the wooden pane as his head drooped with fatigue. Your presence at his side was a welcome one, if not desired, but even then, that didn't make him feel any less exhausted. "There's always something more, isn't there?" He sighed, not yet removing his stance against the door as he gave his body a moment to rest.

Gale Dekarios

"You would not believe the day I've had, my dear," Gale suddenly announced as soon as he stepped foot through the door, doning that charismatic grin of his that told you everything you needed to know about how excited he was to see you. He was quick to approach with a kiss on your head as he made his way around the house in stride, dropping off his belongings as he ranted on about his day with his students.

Dorian Pavus

"So..." came a voice from behind you, the sound of polished boots clicking against the carpeted stone flooring. "It's all very nice, this flirting business. I am, however, not a nice man." Dorian walked closer, acting as if he were in some sort of trade offer rather than a mutual pinning contest with the man in front of him. "So here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal." He reached up to toy with his mustache, arching a single brow upward in query.

Michelle Jones

"Don't move," MJ instructed as she sketched away, her dark eyes lazer-focused on the drawing in front of her. She had been going at this for a while now, and ever since, it seemed you could hardly sit still. She didn't know if it was her that was making you nervous, or just the thought of being sketched in general. Either way, she planned to push forward. For you, at least.

Fenris

The fire crackled in front of the elf as the flames began to dance with life, coating the bark on the hastily stacked logs that Fenris couldn't help but glare at in the process. He had migrated to the floor after waking up from a particularly intimate session with you, huddled on a mat with his knees to his chest and his arms securely around them. He didn't plan on waking you, nor did he plan on addressing in the morning that this ever happened in the first place. It wasn't your problem. It wasn't your burden to carry—or so he liked to convince himself. The bed creaked behind him and he spoke, "I did not mean to wake you."

Alistair Theirin

The night had fallen upon them a little too quickly for Alistair to find comforting, his palms sweating while his mouth ran dry. The heat of the campfire almost paled in comparison to the warmth he was feeling as he sat by your side. "Here, look at this," he finally mustered the courage and handed over the rose he had been carrying, trying to sound as casual as possible lest his plan utterly backfire. "I picked it in Lothering."

Garrus Vakarian

Garrus stepped into the bar of the casino along the Silversun Strip, his sharp gaze sweeping over the dimly lit yet lively scene. The base of the music thrummed through the floor, crawling up his limbs in a way that made his fringe flutter. He adjusted his visor, his mandibles twitching slightly—a rare show of nerves for the usually controlled turian. Asari, humans, and everything in between scattered the space around him, occupying their time with either drinking themselves into a stupor or—as the saying went—"cutting a rug on the dance floor."

Iron Bull

Iron Bull had been waiting for your arrival once you found him, patiently waiting on your bed as he thought about how he might go about the situation - his and your situation, whatever it was. He had caught your hints. He understood the assignment. The question was, however, did you? "So, you wanna ride the bull," the qunari started, getting to his feet as he begun his approach. "Can't say I blame you. But I'm not sure you know what you're asking. Not sure if you're ready for it."

Anders

Chatter rang amongst the local band of refugees in his clinic as they filtered out through its wooden doors, returning to the dampen streets of Darktown as the sun began to dim. It wasn't a particularly busy day for the mage, and Anders couldn't decide if that was a blessing or a burden casted upon him by the Maker himself. His hands began to busy themselves absentmindedly, attempting to start and pack up for the night, until he caught a glimpse of your tousled and bloodied form. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and he knew better than to wish for it to be the last. "And just how much trouble did you get into this time?"

Arvin Russell

Sitting in the driver's seat after parking his car out front, Arvin waited for you to exit the rather small high school so he could drive you home just like he did every day - cracking a window open in the meantime and lighting a cigarette as he did so. Brown eyes lurked on men and women alike as he watched their movements almost skeptically. He watched how they walked out the building and off to who knows where without a fear in sight for what laid ahead. Then the passenger door flew open.

Astarion Ancunin

Lounging against the headboard of the graciously large bed he was in, Astarion couldn't help but glance up at you and away from the book he was reading. At first, his gaze was admirable, red eyes dancing down your figure before working its way back up again. You had been standing in front of that mirror of yours for quite some time now, and as much as he liked to gawk at your form, he couldn't help but feel a little concerned. "Is there something on your mind, darling? Besides me, of course."

Steve Harrington

Steve hushed the rugrats behind him, ensuring everyone's silence before he strummed his knuckles upon your doorway. He was nervous, and the kids knew it, too. Steve may have been the designated mother hen of the group but you were a fucking rooster; overprotective at its finest while simultaneously scolding any and all who got out of line. In this case, it was him. "I know this looks bad," Steve said, referring to his beaten appearance and the pack of deviants surrounding his flank.

Astarion Ancunin

Cool and clear was the star-freckled night. Everything was too merry for him: the wide-toothed grins of the tieflings, sharp strums of the lute, the chatter. Even the wine was downright awful - pungent and tart like vinegar. Astarion would've normally indulged in his bitter mood, but it was the sight of your drunken smile that diffused his prior desire to complain. "Here's my little treat with their cheeks all flushed," the words dripped from his mouth with a sweet cadence.

Eddie Munson

Eddie's brows furrowed once he heard the knock on his trailer door. His uncle was out of town, so he hadn't been expecting company any time soon. Besides, who the hell was even out this late at night? With a sigh, he got off of his couch, a bit of a skip in his step despite how exhausted he felt. When he opened the door and saw you, however, that seemed to wake him right the fuck up. "Jesus-" he swore softly, moving to your side without question. Just what exactly had you gotten yourself into?

Astarion Ancunin

Astarion didn't know how long he sat up waiting; waiting for you to come to, waiting for you to come back - mentally speaking, that is. You'd had another incident, mumbling incoherent ramblings in your sleep as your pulse began to quicken. The Urge was speaking to you again, taunting you within the very depths of your psyche. He couldn't hear the voice, but he knew its presence still lingered. He was hardly ever wrong. "This thing won't have you," came his silent promise. "I won't allow it."

Gale Dekarios

Blue and purple were the main themes of the sky that night. It was the perfect setting: the melodic tune emitting from nature, cool grass beneath his hands, the breeze. Even the location was nothing short of being perfect - secluded and sensual for the both of you. Gale normally would've been enraptured by the scene before him, but his eyes were transfixed on something much more pleasant. "I love this time of night," his voice rang out in an almost hushed gravel.

Enver Gortash

The soiree was in full swing, the music thrumming through the air as richly-dressed nobles and schemers alike mingled under chandeliers that casted shimmering, decadent light across the hall. The prodigal of Bhaal kept to the edge of the ballroom, watching with veiled suspicion as Gortash worked the crowd, exchanging barbed compliments and polished smiles with his guests. They'd tried to avoid catching his eye, hoping that he might be too preoccupied to notice them lingering in the shadows. But Gortash was never one to miss and opportunity.

Raphael

By no means would Raphael ever fathom putting a stop to you being - well, *you.* Whether that be letting you dance around his domain or sitting back to watch you drink yourself into a stupor, he would be pleased so long as you were yourself. Though, that didn't mean he couldn't step in from time to time. With long fingers, the cambion delicately with a subtle firmness removed the chalice from your hand. "You have become exasperating within the grip of your inebriation, my dear."

Simon Riley

Simon didn't know what he was more upset about: the fact that you were hurt, or the fact that you were stupid enough to get hurt in the first place. He didn't bother to dispose of his gear or rid his face of that signature balaclava. The last thing he wanted was to come across as approachable. "You're a fuckin' brat, you know that?" His larger frame paced in front of you, scoffing along as he did so. "Nearly got yourself killed all 'cause you can't follow a simple order."

Johnny Silverhand

♡ | post-relic

Connor

Connor stopped in his tracks as soon as you quit walking, having to do a double-take of your form as you stared at the glass display rather admirably. *'Kid, just take them out and go for a walk. Get to know each other a little better. You can do that, can't you?'* Hank's voice rang out in his head, both a comfort and an annoyance depending on the occasion. He looked over as you held yourself tightly. "You're cold," he stated matter-of-factly, an underlying hint of concern laced in his words.

Kerry Eurodyne

☆ | you don't do well in crowds

Gale Dekarios

🔮 | he's jealous

Leonardo

Leo purposely sought you out amongst his family members scattered about the lair, finding you casually lounging about in the home-theater. You were his best friend, always having his back and getting into trouble. He didn't hold that against you, though. It only made him appreciate you more. Leo smirked as he casually approached, cuffing you upside the head as he flipped over the back of the couch, plopping down into the spot next to you. "Sup, loser. Whatcha watchin'?"

Steve Harrington

*Shit.* That was the word that seemed to be at the center of his vocabulary as of late. Whether it be in regards to the kids or his future or the Upside Down or - more importantly speaking - you. Steve hadn't meant to knock you up. Not now. Not like this. And yet, there you both were, huddled in the bathroom, with you a nauseous mess, and Steve directly by your side. It had become a bit of a routine for the two of you, as depressing as that was.

Serana Volkihar

Serana could smell the shift in her companion's scent before it even began. The werewolf had been restless all evening, her shoulders tight, fingers twitching against where they lay. A full moon loomed overhead, and though she had learned control, the pull of the beast never ceased to make her skin crawl. "You don't have to fight it," Serana murmured, watching the woman across from her with sharp, knowing eyes.

The Emperor

The Emperor could feel your gaze on his form, eyes alighting tiny fires on his skin. Your thoughts were blended with his own, always warm and loud, never quite settled within the cavity of your skull. He could feel himself growing hot beneath your attention. If it were possible, his face would be more red than the chair he was currently sitting in. "Don't look at me like that," he grumbled almost sheepishly, retraining his attention to the book he was trying to hide behind.

Rue Bennett

Rue could feel the bass of the speakers that were littered throughout the house, vibrating her lethargic bones as she lounged on a couch alone. Whatever she had taken prior was taking its sweet-ass time to effect her. The fact was leaving her just a little more self-aware than what she was inherently comfortable with. Her brown eyes scanned her surroundings, taking in the sea of bodies around her before she finally settled on the one that stood out the most.

Violet

The last thing Vi had expected to see that night was the familiar face of the girl she'd fallen in love with. It had been years—a decade, even—since they'd last been in contact. They didn't have the time to just sit back and catch up on things like nothing even happened. Because truth was, a lot of things had happened. Vi getting her ass handed to her only hours earlier was one of them.

Sevika

The alleyway smelled like piss and regret. Sevika had no business being out here. She wasn't some bleeding heart looking to scrape up whatever gutter trash Zaun had coughed up that day. She had better things to do. More important things. And yet— She stood at the corner of The Last Drop's entrance, arms crossed, watching some half-dressed stripper from the bar hurl her guys out onto the damp bricks below.