#come out come out wherever you are || event

[umamaki]

HOW'S THE VIEW FROM UP THERE?

1/5 of my valentine's day event!

sylus x reader

CW reader with female anatomy, explicit smut, established relationship, kinda cutesy domestic imo, pet names, oral sex (f!receiving), oral slight teeth... wc. 0.9k

NOTE pls bear with me. drafting this was the hardest thing i’ve done and i think i genuinely forgot how to write.

You lean against the headboard, unmoving as Sylus lays on top of you. He’s on his stomach and his head rests just below your chin. You’d believe he’s asleep if not for his fingers absentmindedly tapping against your ribcage.

It’s out of the blue, but you can’t shake the urge to tell him the thought that just came to mind. A hand reaches down to play with his hair, lightly twirling his strands and scratching his scalp. He groans in contentment. The room’s silence had been broken and you take it as your chance. 

“Y’know, Sylus…”

You trail off, vaguely shy. He waits before prodding you on, “yes, what is it?”

“I… quite like this view of you.” He raises his head now, still confused. You continue, “I mean, seeing the top of your head like this. I like it. I like it a lot.”

There was truth in your words. Sylus is typically the one who towers over you, the one is used to seeing the top of your head. And so you’ve grown to cherish the moments in which he feels comfortable to be in a vulnerable position around you, offering his body to you, allowing you to touch him wherever you please. Though, the thought of not doing so had never once crossed his mind. 

So it intrigues him, what you had said. “Is that so?” You nod. He brings himself to hover face to face with you, “and what other times do you see the top of my head?”

You look up to think. He appreciates the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks and how your lips subconsciously pout when you’re lost in thought. 

“Well… When you carry me on your shoulders, when you tie my shoelaces, or right now when you lay on me, and um,” your voice lowers in saying the last part; you’re still a little embarrassed. 

But Sylus has never been a believer of shame. He’s smirks down at you now, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Could you repeat that last part for me, sweetie?”

“You heard me.” You stand your ground.

“I did not,” he feigned innocence, eyebrows raised, “please?”

“I said, I like seeing the top of your head when you.. go down on me, too.” Your hands come up to cover your face in embarrassment as quickly as Sylus raises his to remove them from your face. 

“If you wanted me to eat you out, you could’ve just asked me to, dear.”

He laughs when you push his forehead back. The trail of kisses he leaves from your jaw to collarbone tickles and you give in, “fine, go on then,” your legs spread open for him, you sink back into the sheets, an invitation for him.

“Not feeling shy anymore, hm?” Of course he gives into your wishes, but it isn’t Sylus if he doesn’t at least ruffle you up beforehand. He licks a teasing stripe up through the fabric of your panties, eyes never breaking away from yours. “How’s the view now?”

His hot breath mingles with the wet patch on your underwear as he speaks directly into your cunt. You’re too pent up to entertain his teasing. An impatient hand pushes his face back down onto your heat, “view’s good, great. Please continue.”

You feel him smile into your cunt. He peels the fabric off, afterwards using his finger to separate the string of arousal that clung to your undergarment. The cold air of the room on your wet pussy makes you clench around nothing. “I can tell, you’re already drenched.”

He begins to lap at your slick folds before you can get a word back in. He eats you out like a man starved; never once coming up for air, but inhaling the scent of your heat so intensely that his back rises and falls with each deep breath. 

His hands are splayed out on each of your thighs, keeping your legs apart, allowing himself to relentlessly continue lapping up your leaking juices, savoring your taste on his tongue. Your legs shake under his grip as he switches between flattening and tensing his tongue, pushing the muscle up your cunt and through your folds. His nose bumps into your clit, sending a jolt up your body.

“Oh my god—Sylus—” the stimulation draws out breathless moans and whimpers from your lips and he’s enjoying every sound of it, “Sylus, m’close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come on my face baby?” His red eyes lock with your pleading ones before shifting his appreciative gaze down to the marks on your tits and the crease in your tummy, then back onto your eyes.

“Mhm—” 

“Now tell me,” his bruising grip on your legs pushes them up, knees reaching your ears, “you cumming because of the view? Or because of my tongue on your pussy?” He had always been so brazen with his words, never filtering his vulgar language. For some reason, the fact turns you on extraordinarily. 

“B-both!” You had to stutter it out in between moans, using up the last of your coherence to respond to him.

“Good.” You’re immediately taken to your climax when he catches your clit between his teeth; he does it lightly, but the unexpected sharpness of it immediately sends your orgasm crashing through you. His tongue guides you through your release, unwavering, despite your thrashing body beneath him. The orgasm is intense and overwhelming, blurring your vision before finally making your body go slack against the sheets. 

At last, he relieves you from the overstimulation. Your sheen covers the entirety of his chin, and he’s shameless in licking his lips clean when he catches you staring. 

“Darling, I just might have a new favorite view after this.”

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@jin-fei @isagistar @venussakura @syluriar @shoyosthighs

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How do I write a scene where a previously “dead” character comes back and faces their friends who mourned for them, looking physically different than before? It’s been a few years since their death, but I don’t how to write the scene.

Writing Ideas: Back from the Dead

a list of resurrection tropes

Accidental Resurrection: A deceased character/s is brought back to life without having been intended to.

Attending Your Own Funeral: A resurrection happens when people are gathered together to mourn for a character's death.

Came Back Strong: A resurrected person is more powerful than they were before they died.

Damaged Soul: A resurrected person comes back in a worse mental state than before.

Death Amnesia: A resurrected character remembers nothing about the afterlife.

Escaped from Hell: Someone refuses to stay dead even though they're already in the afterlife, so they break out and head back to the land of the living.

Inhuman Human: A character is resurrected with their mind/soul intact but their body in bad condition.

Refusing Paradise: A dead character chooses resurrection over entering the peaceful afterlife.

Resurrection Revenge: A character comes back from the dead to avenge their own death.

Resurrection Sickness: Someone suffers physical weakness as a result of resurrection.

Resurrective Immortality: A form of immortality where it is possible to kill the individual, but they keep coming back to life afterwards.

Rotten Reincarnation: The cycle of death and rebirth is seen as heinous.

Unwanted Revival: A resurrected person isn't happy about being brought back to life.

Waking Up at the Morgue: When a resurrectee comes back to life, they're likely to find themselves wherever their dead body was stored.

We Can Rebuild Him: Saving a person's life by converting them into a cyborg.

Examples

In Classical Mythology, before Sisyphus 'died', he told his wife not to do any burial rites. When in the Underworld, he appealed to the queen of the underworld, Persephone, if he could go back up to earth to haunt his wife for not giving him the proper rites. She agreed and he came back from the dead.

Flynn Rider/Eugene Fitzherbert from Tangled. From the time that he says in the opening, "This is the story of how I died," it only leaves the viewer guessing until the climatic part, when he is fatally stabbed In the Back by Mother Gothel's dagger and, rather than let Rapunzel risk her freedom for his life, cuts off her hair with a broken mirror shard in a Heroic Sacrifice before breathing his last in her arms. Thankfully, Rapunzel's magic tear brings him back to life. This is justified, since in the original tale, Rapunzel healed her beloved prince's eyesight with her tear.

In The Brothers Grimm's "The Three Snake Leaves" the hero uses the titular leaves to bring his wife back from the dead. At first it seems fine, but after being resurrected her love for him has turned into hate and she tries to murder him on a sea voyage. He is rescued by a faithful servant and she is executed.

The basic premise of Pet Sematary is that what you bring back is not what first died. To disastrous degrees. Specifically, while they stop decaying and can pass for alive if cleaned up, what comes back is a moving corpse that cannot heal, saddled with whatever injuries may have killed it. To further worsen the deal, while the corpse has all the memories and echoes of their personality, what "comes back" is not the soul of the deceased but some form of Demon or Monster from Beyond the Veil bent on making the one who resurrected it suffer through killing those they hold dear, and then them.

Game of Throne's Jon Snow. Seemingly averted, for the most part. Despite his resurrection coming from circumstances similar to Beric Dondarrion's, the only marked change in him is a (more) melancholic demeanor and a new hairdo. His willingness to interpret the preceding events as an out from the Night's Watch may also count.

Inuit Mythology: Sedna is just an ordinary woman until her father chops off her fingers and throws her into the ocean. She becomes the goddess of the ocean, the most important goddess of the Inuit cosmology because it's only with her on their side that the people can avoid starvation. Her fingers turn into seals. Another version has her being thrown in the ocean first, followed by the chopping off of her fingers (which turn into seals), hands (which turn into walruses), and finally her arms (which turn into whales) to get her to stop clinging on to the boat.

Merlin (2008) has had a few resurrections, all of which went wrong. Tristan du Bois: undead wraith, Lancelot: Soulless Shell, Uther: Took a Level in Jerkass, which is quite impressive considering he was a genocidal tyrant in the first place.

The Twilight Zone (1959): In the episode "The Last Rites of Jeff Myrtlebank", a man comes back from the dead, but the townsfolk notice some things are off about him and decide that he's possessed by a demon. He manages to shame them away… and then lights his pipe without a match or lighter.

Osiris from the Ancient Egyptian pantheon died repeatedly only to return a short while later, suffering several indignities such as being resurrected without a penis, which was eaten by fish before it could be found and reattached. He averts the Trope in that he never came back in some monstrously horrific form, but true to it in that afterwards he was usually worse off than he was previously. And green.

The Lord of the Ring's Gandalf the Grey dies and comes back as Gandalf the White with augmented powers and authority. He is a lesser-angel figure on a mission from greater-angels and hasn't completed his quest so he is sent back and the restrictions previously placed on his power (to prevent overreliance or corruption) are relaxed.

Writing Template: Resurrection Scene

PART ONE

What is the purpose of this resurrection?

Is it based on the prophecy or is this resurrection random?

In prophecy usually a group of people, a village or more patiently waits for the prophecy to happen. Whether the person being resurrected will save the world, save their country or is a symbol. The prophecy can either be welcomed or feared. How has the people prepared for this resurrection? What is promised in the prophecy?

For a random resurrection, who decides to bring back the person or the deity. Do they have their own power or easy given to them? Why did they decide to wake up from their…. rest?

Describe the signs of the prophecy happening. What takes place right before the resurrection or during the resurrection that shows the reader something important is about to happen or is currently happening?

The skies can part, crows can gather, a national disaster such as an earthquake can occur. Maybe the prophet who spoke of the prophecy is dying or says it’s happening within three days. Depending on the sign it allow your reader to know whether the person who is being resurrected will be good or bad.

During the resurrection things may or may not go as planned. But that does not mean the person being resurrected is a bad person. There could be an evil force preventing the person from being resurrected. What are the witnesses doing in order to make sure the resurrection is going well? Do they close their borders or their gates to prevent outside from entering?

Who notices these signs and who prepares after noticing the signs. Is there a way for these people to rush the signs? Do they create their own signs as well such as using fireworks for celebration, going to a church to pray, dancing in the rain,etc?

PART TWO

Who witnesses this resurrection and what does it inspire them to do?

Who are the chosen people to witness and do they already have an idea this was going to happen? It doesn’t even have to be human.

Could only be family or friends, or random people, no one at all is worthy, or perhaps someone who is dreaming. Do they want to be better people after seeing this? Do they want to tell everyone they know after seeing this? Do they question the world around them and their existence? Or do they wish they never saw it?

For a random resurrection there must be a random people to view it. Because no one knows that it was going to happen. How are these random people taking it in? Do they run and hide. Rejoice? Scream and shout? And maybe they heard something about this but they didn’t know it was true. Now that they see it before their very eyes are they are shocked, and standing still like stone.

If the witnesses aren’t human but animals or creatures that you created, what do they do after and during the resurrection? Assuming that the person being resurrected is the main character, how do they feel about no one being meant to see this?

What are they inspired to do now? Do they wait until the resurrection is completed or do they start right away? What device,if any, do they have available?

They can be inspired to spread the word about the resurrection. Maybe do what ever the character being resurrected did so that they can resurrect too. Whether it’s sacrificing themselves or changing themselves for the better. Do they want to worship the resurrected person?

Some people may not even be able to finish the resurrection for whatever reason. Whether it is because they are fainting or they’re afraid or because they can’t wait to do with what they are inspired to do. Maybe their in a trance or were told specifically by the resurrector to go forth and do something. Also, if they have electronic devices they can use that to their benefit.

PART THREE

What does the person who is being resurrected look like? What are they doing?

Note their clothing, and their hair, and how their skin looks. Use some adjectives to describe them. What point of view is it? The witness’s point of view, the resurrector? Each person will have a opinion of what the resurrection looks like.

Their appearance:

Clothing: None, Robe, Torn clothes from when they died, Clothing restored from when they died, Wings

Hair: White or silver; Natural color; A bright color such as yellow or orange; Styled very long; Styled messy or clean; Like it was before; Flowing in the wind; Silky, thick, smooth

Skin: Clear; Still dirty from when they died (if they were in battle); Younger; Older

Adjective to Use: Glorious; Radiant; Superb; Extraordinary; Amazing; Awesome; Unimaginable; Promising; Inspiring; Flawless; Peaceful; Perfect; Timeless; Awe-inspiring

Depending on whose point of view it is, how is the person being resurrected seen? Is there envy, remorse? Example: An enemy just finished off the main character but he is resurrected shortly after. Also, what does the facial expressions of everyone in this seen look like? Does it match the way they look? The person who has risen from their… slumber may look like an angel but has a nasty look on their face. Or vica versa.

Does the look change? The person being born again can go from happy to mad in an instant. So can whatever they are wearing or his/her hair. Example:

From clean white rob, bowl-cut hair, and brown eyes — Torn robe, spiked hair, red eyes.

From Torn clothing, messy and dirty hair, and red shot eyes — Clothing fixed, hair fixed and eyes back to normal

These changes can be temporary or permanent.

Are they already doing magical things? Are they doing things they wouldn’t have done in the previous life? Are they better or worse off? What interaction do they have with the witnesses?

Do they now have powers? How do they use of these powers? At first do they scare the witnesses because they don’t know how to use their power? The may accidentally hurt someone or burn a tree down. Are they floating while being resurrected? Do they disappear after being resurrected or even fly?

Do these powers change them to be better than before they were dead or worse? Can they control their powers? Do they even want the powers? What are the power intended for?

PART FOUR

What message is sent to the people who are witnessing the resurrection? What is the person being resurrected thinking?

Is the witnesses being ordered to do something? Are they able to have a conversation with the person being resurrected? Are there any warnings or other prophecies?

They are probably told to tell people what they have seen. Or may not. Maybe they need to keep quiet about it for a while in order for the resurrected to attack the enemy with surprise. May they have risen only to tell one last message to the people. If that’s the case it has to be something important. For example: How to win a battle, how to create something, take away something, restore something, or improve something.

There does not need to be a conversation, however, they can still communicate. Whether it’s with gestures, with a song, showing the future or another prophecy using powers…. If a conversation does take place, who is doing most of the talking and are questions being answered not only for the reader but for the witnesses?

What thoughts are in mind of the main character, whether they are the person being resurrected or a witness? What do they see that no one else sees?

Maybe they want to go back to…. sleep. Or ditch and figure out their new powers. How about if the resurrect isn’t the correct resurrected or a fake. Can a witness see that? Do they notice? What if the resurrected see a witness that is a trader. What do they do?

PART FIVE

What is the next step for the person being resurrected?

How does the future look; what changes forever

After all is said and done, where is the resurrected going? How do they plan on getting there and are they going alone?

What is promised, what is warned, what is happening as the resurrected says his/her goodbyes?

What is left behind, given as a gift, or what words are repeated? How has this moment changed the history of your story? And who would believe it besides the witnesses?

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Here are some tropes and examples you can use as inspiration. When facing their friends, what are their reactions? Is it positive/negative? Are they accepted or treated like a stranger in this new form? Similarly, when they look physically different than before, is it a positive/negative change? Are they decomposing? Do they look the same or are they "better" now? Do go through the links as well for more examples. Or you may use (and alter as needed) templates, like the one I found above to help guide your story. Hope this helps with your writing!

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Thirteen -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer @sadslasher13

You remember standing in the corner of some large social hall for some sort of charity gala that was being held that your family was invited to attend, of course an event would never be complete without your family’s presence, especially your father. You could not drink yet so these events could not be dulled down for you in the slightest. You were the only one who came, your brothers and sisters got off from going by covering your father’s patrol until the party was over and you prayed for it to be over so you could go back to the manor. Your father was talking to some old former politician and during their conversation you had been able to slip away or rather your father let you slip away, he knew exactly what you were doing after all he always did. 

You recognized a few people at the party, mostly just faces you commonly saw at these sort of events like the mayor, Lucius Fox on occasion, Harvey Dent before his accident, but most of these people really did not know you besides your reputation as Bruce Wayne’s little daughter, his princess, though now that did not fit you much anymore as you were almost eighteen, you were a young woman at this point in your life. 

Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder, you turned your head around to the person standing next to you that you failed to notice, Gabriel Christel, your boyfriend that only your mother approved of you having. You glanced around again, your father was still in a conversation with his back facing you and he stood probably a hundred feet away, he would not notice right away that you were gone. You turned to Gabriel and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him along and out of the party and into the back halls of the hotel the party was being held at, your fast walking turning into strolling once you reached where no one would be able to see you.

“You didn’t tell me that you would be here.” You spoke to him with a smile and he laughed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket. “Last minute invite?”

“No, my mom had a meeting tonight and she sent me to go instead, the heir of the family and all.” He sighed, glancing up at some of the old paintings on the hotel’s walls. “I hoped to talk to some potential models for my mom’s new line but it seems they aren’t exactly interested in talking business with, oh what did she call me again… right, an attractive and single young man.”

“Well one of those two things is certainly not true.” You teased, your arms coming to wrap around his left arm as you walked down the hall, resting your head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re eighteen.”

“Hm… your birthday is in a month, you’ll be an adult too, I’m only two months older than you.”

“I don’t think it really matters if I am an adult or not, my old man hardly lets me out of the house these days, especially after that one Joker incident two weeks ago, so I doubt he’ll let me go to university or anything like that, especially out of state.” You hummed, the vibrations of your voice rumbling against his suit jacket. “Where are you thinking about for college?”

“I think I’m gonna go to Gotham City University.”

“What?” His answer shocked you, he was going to be the valedictorian of your class and especially at your school that was practically a guarantee to go wherever he wanted. “Didn’t you get accepted into a few Ivy league schools or what about the foreign exchange you told me about the other day-”

“I am staying in Gotham because of what is in this city, my family, my future, my inheritance, and most importantly you are here.” You felt your face heat up at his words and he smiled, leaning over to rest his head on top of your own. “If you can’t go somewhere with me then I will stay here with you.”

“You are sometimes too romantic, you know that right?” 

“Mmm, ya.” He laughed, you could feel his warm breath tickling your hair and the top of your head. “But is it too romantic to tell you I would burn the world for you?”

“A bit cheesy, and don’t tell my dad that, he would probably never let you within a mile of me again.”

“I would like to see him try.”

…

If you knew what he actually meant by that.

______________________

It was surprisingly cold as Gabriel led you down the hallways or wherever the hell you were, the air felt cold and it did not help that you were only wearing stockings to cover your feet as you walked down the marble floor beneath you, when you were changed out of your suit you were laying in a bed and you don’t exactly wear shoes to bed, there were probably shoes in the room you woke up in most likely in one of the dresser drawers or stored underneath the bed, but you honestly were too out of your own head because of the after effects of the drugs to even thing to look there. So now as you walked down the hallway there was the soft pitter patter of your thin cloth covered feet following behind Gabriels dress shoes which made a soft click against the marble floor

As you turned a corner you noticed there was a vast increase in the temperature which only got warmer as you approached a set of heavy wooden doors. Gabriel let go of your hand so he could push open the set of doors and your eyes went wide with what you saw, honestly you did not know how to even explain it. The room was entirely marble, but on the ground you saw what looked to be red coffins embedded into the marble floor and it was not just a few of them, but rows and rows of red coffins.

“What… what is this?” You watched as Gabriel walked ahead of you, slowly, looking down at the red coffins as he reached up to remove his mask, seeing a gleeful look in his eye as he did so.

“I always felt I recognized your brother from some place, your oldest brother, Richard.” You watched him pause in his tracks, looking down at one particular red coffin, a heavy look of disdain in his eye. “Now my parents never took me to the circus because they found it tacky, but now to say the court has dealings everywhere and well we need something strong to back up our words.”

“These… these are like that assassin…” You glanced down at a red coffin at your feet, your face cringing at the thought of what may be inside, a living person maybe or perhaps something that is already dead or somewhere in between the two, undead or like something similar to a Lazarus Pit that is used by your half brother’s grandfather. “Talons, right? But what does this have to do with Dick?”

“Hmm you know the rhyme… that makes me glad…” His words did not match his emotionless glare but his lack of care in his face was not aimed at you but whoever was inside that red box. “Did you know that your brother was supposed to become a Talon… but then his parents were killed and your father took him in, tragic really he did have so much potential.”

“He… he was a child when that happened…” You paused in your words and slowly turned about the room, taking in the sight of the rows upon rows of perfectly aligned red coffins. “You groom children into becoming assassins… oh my god…”

“We aren’t the only ones who have committed such a sin, besides it is for the greater good, and not all of them were children, and on top of that most of them did this willingly.” Gabriel shook his head, his arms crossing and his grip on his mask growing tighter and you were sure that if it were a more fragile material it might have broken. “I should have known that you would not have understood.”

“You are right… I don’t understand and no one should because this is sick.” There was a moment's pause between your words and you swallowed down hard, maybe too hard that your ears popped a little bit. “I don’t want anything to do with this, this is not helping Gotham, it is destroying it, you are going to rip this city to shreds and nothing will be left standing especially if you try to try to destroy the league… you will not win because they will just keep coming back again and again.”

“And that’s not your problem anymore, after all you did promise me that when we get married you will get rid of the mask and also trust me when I say the other members of the court will not exactly welcome you because of your recent actions, and besides I like seeing your face too much and a mask would just hide that, but if you decided to be transparent with me, even after four years, I should be transparent with you as well.” He took a step forward towards you, spinning around his white owl mask in his right hand. “And do not worry about the League of Assassins my dear, after all when they come into my city and threaten my court, then I will tear them apart limb from limb.”

“You won’t get the chance with Ra’s Al Ghul, he will destroy you…” You glanced around again, wondering why they were in red coffins of all things. Ra’s Al Ghul was immortal because of the Lazarus Pit, but there was no Lazarus Pit in Gotham to your knowledge, and they would not be in coffins if they were mortal or just regular assassins. “...This is because of what you are doing here… Talons are partially immortal aren’t they? That’s why the League is in Gotham, because they found out about this and don’t want a potential threat to their mission.”

“Sometimes I wish you were not so smart, but unfortunately they are indeed not perfect, but after this they will be.” With those words Gabriel just confirmed they do have a weakness, a weakness that would most likely be their undoing, you did not exactly feel bad about killing a bunch of undead assassins. You watched as Gabriel glanced around the coffins as if trying to find a certain one as he walked over to you, his hand coming to snake around your waist. “I know your brother’s great grandfather is around here somewhere, and I believe I remember hearing about a certain one of his targets… your great great grandfather if I am correct, funny isn’t it? Family history.”

“I really do not find it that funny.” You also did not find it exactly funny that the League of Assassins were your allies now. You mentally paused, you did not have your things that you had when you were kidnapped, which included the scarf Talia gave you on behalf of her father, the sight of it would definitely ring alarms for any member of the League of Assassins. “Gabriel…”

“Yes?”

“I had a scarf with me under my suit… Do you have it?”

“Hmm… I do not, it must have fallen out, I can always buy you a new one, love.”

“No it’s fine… it was just from someone important.”

It was only a matter of time before one of them found that scarf and either Ra’s Al Ghul or Talia Al Ghul would lose it and come looking for you and you would make your escape before the smoke cleared. The worst case scenario was if you were not able to get away in time and Ra’s or Talia decided to grab you like a kitten by the scruff of your neck and make the decision that you were not able make choices for yourself after somehow getting yourself kidnapped after you decided to lie to Damian and sneak out to Arkham Asylum. Honestly, you did not want to see an upset Ra’s Al Ghul or Talia Al Ghul, for all you knew you could be waking up halfway across the world in a compound of the League of Assassins.

______________________

Clove stood on top of the building, patrolling and investigating, paired off with Robin and Nightwing. It was nearing dawn and Clove at least had never been out on patrol for this long before, she yawned, her arms stretching up like a cat and both heads of the young men turned to her and your friend went red in the face. “Sorry, long night, you all know how it is.”

“Ya, we do.” Nightwing replied, patting her on the back as they walked across the empty rooftop, attempting to figure out where you went and find a path you may have left behind. There was another long draw of silence before Nightwing spoke up again. “You don’t seem the type to be doing this sort of thing, you seem like a good kid, why are you here?”

“I… I don’t really like talking about my past… but it’s been awhile since it happened…” Clove sighed, crossing her arms, normally she would not talk about this sort of thing but the exhaustion and stress was finally getting to her. “My mom died a few years back from a terminal disease, it’s genetic so chances I’ll get it too. I was tired of being treated like I was gonna break if I breathed wrong, I wasn’t sick yet so decided I wanted to do something useful with my life before I go. The Police Academy wouldn’t take me because I didn’t pass their physical exam at the time so now I’m here, definitely would pass it now.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been hard for you.”

“You’re not sorry, after all you treat your sister the exact same way.” Clove pushed Nightwing’s hand away, walking off closer to the roof’s edge to move on. “She’s told us the stories, but actually it was worse for her.”

The two other vigilantes watched her swing off the rooftop and Damian grew a scowl on his face at Clove’s all too real words, he glanced up at the older hero and Nightwing had an uncomfortable look on his face as he watched Clove swing onto another rooftop. “I don’t like her.”

“Give it a rest, she’s helping us.”

______________________

Bruce walked back into his shared bedroom, it was easily mid morning by now and Bruce was only forced back upstairs to rest by Alfred with the promise that Barbara and Tim would work with Mr. Austen to try to follow any leads on your location before they all head out again. Your -;/;mother was sitting up in bed, having been oblivious to the current situation of your disappearance, as far as she knew you had left of your own freewill and they were just trying to pin you down again. She was reading a newspaper and was still in her pajamas, clearly having woken up.

“Good Morning, Bruce.” She spoke up, she set her newspaper aside on the side table rather quickly as Bruce stepped over to press a kiss just above her brow. He had already showered and changed from patrol so he slid into bed alongside his wife. “Long patrol tonight, did something happen?”

“Nothing you need to worry about right now.” He groaned and wrapped one of his muscular arms under her arm and up her back, pulling her close to him, tucking her head under his chin. “Just go back to sleep, I’ve got you.”

She honestly did not want to go back to sleep, one of the many things she hated about her marriage was the messed up sleep schedule she got from sleeping in the same bed as Bruce, coming home in the early mornings and just wanting to hold her when he was drifting off as if he was scared she was going to disappear all over again like she did when she called off their original engagement over twenty years ago.

“Hm… Alfred got you the paper already?” Bruce spoke, reaching for the newspaper but in a quick reaction your mother pulled him close, wrapping her own arms around him as if an attempt to stay warmer. Bruce narrowed his eyes at him, it was not unusual for her to do this especially when the manor could be quite cold, but it was her accelerated heart rate that indicated to him that something was most definitely wrong. Bruce just let out a heavy sigh before he shifted, sitting up in bed and letting go of his wife and she could only watch as Bruce reached over for the newspaper, and when he picked it up there was an additional weight to it, and out of the newspaper fell a piece of paper, a letter, but no envelope so it meant that it was hand delivered, someone did not want risking anyone reading the contents of it. Bruce picked it up the letter and glanced the contents over, words and phrases like ‘your daughter’, ‘Arkham Asylum’, ‘divorce’, ‘blackmail’, ‘potential abuse case’ caught is eye long with the handwriting, it was clearly Harvey Dent, he must have bribed a guard at Arkham to get it delivered. 

“Bruce, I-”

“I don’t want to hear it right now.” Bruce cut off his wife, he stood up again from bed, he did not even look at her. Bruce knew that it was not his wife who made contact, it would have been impossible for her to do so, this was the work of you, their daughter. “I have to make some calls  to the head of Arkham Security and to the GCPD, just… just stay here right now, we need to talk later.”

[fanged-fanfics]

I love what you did for my last request. So if it's ok, can I add an extra on it?

In this, it's still optimus and ratchet, but when (Y/N) doesn't get better, it seems to get worse. They do scans on them. Turns out, (Y/n) has a broken bone that didn't heal right, and now it's starting to make her sick by releasing bacteria in her blood stream, and the only way to fix it is by surgery. Pretty much, forcing the bone to be together to stop it being a problem.

How will they act, how will they find out, and will they help (Y/N) recover? Thank you again and if it's to long, I am sorry!

☆ Caring and Curing Pt 2 — TFP Optimus and Ratchet x Sick!Fem Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || she/her pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 After quite a few days of you being sick, worry spread through the base a bit more. Ratchet did what he could to monitor you and change little things in routine to see what helped, but nothing was helping quite as much as it should be

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The bots once again consulted the humans, and convinced you to go to a human doctor. They personally drove you, waiting outside and trying to stay hidden as possible as they waited on results. Optimus and Ratchet talked between themselves on their concerns over you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Once you came back and news of surgery was revealed, Optimus began researching whatever he could about what humans needed to recover from such an event to see if he could help, and Ratchet modified your resting nest to accommodate the new needs you'd have post-operation

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Once you have the surgery completed and you're safe to come back to base, the two mechs fret over you more than before. You didn't think it was possible, but Optimus and Ratchet begin curling around you more often and keeping bots under strict information on how to be careful with you, including disallowing any to come too close

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Anything you need immediately gets handed to you. Sometimes you don't even have to ask, as their research pays off and they stock up on even the littlest of medicines or snacks you may need. They might have a few less than solid hacks they found on human websites that don't make sense, but they're doing their best

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Optimus straight up carries you whenever you need to go somewhere. He's worried about you falling or aching while moving, so he holds you in his servos carefully and takes you wherever you need to go, even offering to complete every task for you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ratchet makes sure you're following the care guidelines you got from the doctors on what to do post-op. He keeps the list on him at all times, and will be strict on you taking medicine on time as well as keeping bandages or casts clean

ᯓᡣ𐭩 They seem very worried and nervous whenever they're helping you, moving with great gentleness and care. They become very conscious of how small you are in comparison, and take extra precautions to be sure their heavy metal frames never hurt you

[barbitone]

Ridiculous Berencel AU of the Day

Sugar Daddy AU

Ancel and Berenger meet on a sugar baby site. Berenger has hang-ups about people trying to get with him for his money and this way at least it's honest, if still not exactly ideal.

Ancel lives in a different city, so mostly Berenger just sends him money and gifts and once a week they video chat over dinner because Berenger is lonely and sad. Sometimes Ancel video calls him while he's shopping with Berenger's money, and shows off all the stuff he bought, and asks what he likes. And Berenger always just smiles at him and says "whatever makes you happy."

Sometimes he visits Ancel's city for work and they meet up. But Berenger just wants to do stupid tourist shit and like. Go on hikes and to the museum and to dinner, and refuses to touch Ancel aside from like, offering his arm while they're walking somewhere. Maybe sometimes he has Ancel be his plus one to various work events he hates. He probably pays to fly out Ancel first class to- wherever. Maybe they go to other countries. It's always ridiculously luxurious and painfully chaste, even when they have to sleep in the same bed for Appearances.

At face value, this SHOULD be the perfect arrangement for Ancel. Except he falls in love, of course, and suddenly Berenger's prudishness is driving him crazy. And he's pretty sure Berenger likes him likes him, but then he just WON'T and ugh.

Maybe occasionally people assume (correctly) that Ancel is, essentially, hired for the role- but Ancel always shuts them down. Because if they're pretending to ACTUALLY be together, then Ancel can convince Berenger to make out with him, in public at least, for Appearances.

For reasons of being an immature petty bastard, Ancel decides to drive him away, because fuck him. So he starts raising his rates, basically daring Berenger to dump him. Except Berenger just agrees to it every time and how rich IS HE this is getting INSANE.

And it's so so much money. He doesn't need to keep his other clients, it's so much money. And he doesn't like his other clients anyway so he just dumps them all. And there's so much money, and all he has to do is just talk to Berenger once a week and he's BORED so he gets... a hobby that turns into a real job? Like? What? He'd never planned on getting a real job, but he's always been kind of into designing jewelry and he has to fill the time SOMEHOW.

And it TAKES OFF and he's kind of amazing at it actually? And suddenly he has his own money coming in, and he doesn't even need Berenger anymore, except he likes Berenger. He likes their video chats over dinner, and being Berenger's plus one, and the only thing wrong with it is he wants MORE.

And then at some point it's been like an EGREGIOUS amount of time. It's been like 2 years of this, and Ancel realizes he hasn't slept with anyone in that time, and the only person he wants is Berenger.

And then Berenger comes to town again, and they have dinner, and at the end of dinner Ancel dumps him. Insert the "we both know this isn't working" conversation in reverse. Berenger is, of course, devastated. Right up until Ancel invites him back to his place, smirking. Or maybe Ancel straight up proposes to him, because he is so done waiting by now.

And then they bang. A lot, probably. Bottom Berenger? Perhaps they were switches.

[fire-starterdylan]

@emmanuelxreyes

Emmanuel hated whatever the island's magic was doing to him. As much as he tried to control it and himself, he found his magic spiking and fading erratically and it was infuriating him. One minute he was hearing entirely too many thoughts in his head, and the next it was silent. One moment he'd been able to trap a whole group of slaves in a vision together, then it fell away and he couldn't even create one.

"I guess I will have to have fun the old fashioned way then." he muttered in annoyance. "Bring me someone interesting." the djinn snapped at a guard. "And string them up there." He instructed, pointing to a tree in the quad.

"Hey!" he shouted, trying to dislodge a guard from his arm. So much was happening - Dylan was absolutely delighted to have his powers back, but they didn't seem to work like he was used to. It was fine at first, then it got a little bit too crazy and he burned a building down, and for the last hour or so, they've barely been working at all. The collar had been burned off at the first opportunity he had, but it still didn't help him from getting essentially kidnapped from a guard who must have recognized him from the cells and was dragging him over to a tree. He was thrown into it a bit too hard - not hard enough to see stars but he's had his fair share of head injuries to know when to be concerned - and had his wrists pulled up too tight around a branch. Thankfully, he was tall and didn't have to strain too bad, but he was trying to ignite said tree and nothing was happening. Dylan worked hard to dampen down that panic with a glare to the man before him and a low, "Who the fuck are you?"

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Still haven't messaged my mom back. And I don't think I'm going to.

[izzy-b-hands]

Got all excited last night bc i saw a post from a mod on the gta o subreddit abt the Halloween update being set to drop today around 5 AM (backed up by at least two gaming websites that had stories also stating the same start time and date)

Went in today ready for Halloween and uh. Nothing lol

Checked the actual Rockstar website and there's no mention of it, just that RDR o is getting a Halloween update this week

If i was a betting man I'd start a pool on how late in the month it'll be by the time the gta Halloween drops lmao

(also a pool on how likely it is the mod is lying; as they continue to insist they have access to all the usual Halloween stuff in GTA o today and that everyone who doesn't must not know how to restart their game to see if that changes anything, or maybe they didn't click play on GTA but a different game in their library? Which is insulting af, especially to the guy with the flare that shows he's at a level so high in the game that i frankly didn't know existed, who called them out and asked if maybe they didn't get confused and thought gta and rdr were both getting the update at the same time. Person was nice abt it, just asked plainly and said it was ok if that was the case, but that it would be helpful for others to know. poor dude immediately got piled on by the mod for it but like. he's right lmao. if that's the case it's fine! mistakes happen! but stop insisting you have access to something seemingly no one else trying to play online does!)

[dewitty1]

Saturday Six (Stuff)

The Dude (@super-ultra-mega-kami-guru-blog) comes home Monday night!( ´͈ ॢꇴ `͈ॢ)･*♡

I guess the kittehs have been good company. Leeloo has been a typical kitten aka a terror. (^・ω・^ )

As much as I don't want my parents to interfere in my business I do want my mom to ask her bestie, WTF, because I did an estimate for her and I have heard back and I need money like now. Mom said no, and rightfully so, but still, lol.（’-’*)

Speaking of parents, Mom asked me to come hang out at their old people gratitude dinner today. Umm, yeah no thanks. Once was enough. I'm fine hanging out with myself.٩(•̤̀ᵕ•̤́๑)ᵒᵏᵎᵎᵎᵎ

Seriously the worst part of being a small business person is worrying about money. We hates it.( •̀ω•́ )σ

And even though he's a jerk about it, Dad is helping me get tires on my car. That's one good thing, he'll always keep the car up. Though he still calls it "his" car. s(・｀ヘ´・;)ゞ

Bonus: Happy End of Daylight Saving Time weekend! Tonight most of the USA imitates Cher and turns back time, the Standard clock. WHEEEE. (not fun. We hates the dark) (´～`)

[loveanddeepdick]

nanami knows that his dick is good. that his dick can turn a 2/10 day to a 10/10 week. that even though you hated giving head to your ex-boyfriends, you’d gladly drop anything to suck his dick.

nanami watches you, letting out short groans and whines as he watches your mouth move up and down his dick. whenever, wherever, he’ll let you have it. he’s yours and you’re his! ofc he’ll let you have him anytime <3

nanami who dicks you down anytime you’re horny, stressed, or just plain wants it. he’s ready when you are! he’s suck a gentlemen with it too, cleaning you up after you suck him off or take his dick, gently cleaning you with a damp towel or the wipes he keeps in the dashboard of his car.

nanami doesn’t believe in condoms, well, he did but after you let him hit it raw once, he was hooked for life. he’s such a gentlemen though, so if you want him to wear one he will but you both know it feels better when you’re skin to skin.

nanami who, even though he loves receiving, loves giving even more. he’ll have his head in between your legs, sucking on you like his life depends on it. even when you tug on his dirty blonde, salt and pepper hair, he shakes his head.

“‘m not done, sweetheart. need to finish eating, yeah? you gonna let me?”

nanami who looks at you from between your legs, lovestruck after you pass out from rounds of head from him. his eyes never your head is laying against the pillow as if you’re deep in a peaceful sleep, a contradiction to the events that just conspired before.

“poor baby.. aww, don’t worry, i’m here”

nanami who cleans you up each time after he’s in between your legs. in the bathroom, he admired the white slick left on his face and chuckles as he washes it off. he’ll take a damp cloth and a glass of water from the kitchen before he comes back. sitting on the edge of your shared bed, he gently cleans you before closing your legs, pulling e covers on you

“see you when you wake up, love. i’ll be here”

[fmhobeus]

jjk men and their red flags

a/n: i'm feeling problematic :> tell me what u think (agree/disagree/add more?) this is all for shits n giggles !! non sorcerer au kinda

kento nanami — (over)protective

but like... to the point where it feels like he's treating you like a child! he doesnt like to see you sweat or even work at all for that matter. he loves it when you cook but has bought covers for all the knifes. if he sees a burn on your hand get ready for a 10 minute long lecture. if you accidentally fall he wont let you get up for atleast 3 days to help you ""heal."" it's almost like he doesnt trust you to take care of yourself :') he probably has like 3 separate first-aid kits everywhere.

suguru geto — emotionally unavailable

i feel like this is explainable to his character (sort of.) i dont think that he'd make you feel isolated at all, he's be an amazing listener and probably memorizes every word you say. he listens to you rant and even trauma dump with insane patience. but at some point it feels as though you hardly know him. he's talk to you a lot but very little of it is personal and you hardly know what he's thinking because his ass is not tell you. he also unintentionally distances himself from people from time to time. this applies to you too and you can feel him getting emotionally distant sometimes. it isnt something he does knowingly but it sure ass hell bothers you.

satoru gojo — very clingy and needy

this nigga. he is so utterly clingy. and at first it's perfectly fine, even appreciated by you. you still love him like crazy of course but it is just overwhelming. he is like a child most of the time, he need you around him and is always accompanying you wherever you go, and he expects you to do the same. he also doesn't believe in "me time" because why would you feel better when you're away from him: (? want to hang out with your friends? what do you need them for: (? he's right there. he is also physically incapable of listening but boy is he good at making up.

toji fushiguro — controlling

he is so controlling omfg. it's usually subtle but sometimes he will outright just say no to things he doesnt like, not caring if you like them. it gets to the point where he actually starts to change your personality. he is very caring and that's his justification for this typa stuff. it is usually harmless stuff but he gets paranoid often. he doesnt let you wear miniskirts out if you're not with him. he doesn't let you befriend people he thinks are into you. he barely lets you buy stuff on your own, he usually gifts you whatever it is youre into at that moment. borderline turned on by fear and you being dependent on him.

choso kamo — has no social life outside you

pretty self explanatory. he doesnt have many friends outside you and isn't interesting in making them either. total loser. so taking him out to events, he probably doesnt interact much and chooses to look at you the entire time, which annoys your friends. he answers their questions pretty bluntly. he's never down to have people over and lowkey hates when you are.

hiromi higuruma — workaholic

also self explanatory. he leaves early, comes home late. you barely see him on the weekdays. sometimes he goes as far as ignoring your calls when in between cases. he calls you periodically but has to have an alarm set to remind him. he loves you very very deeply but is just used to working non stop T_T

[servicpop]

nude beach adrien ( deliquent oc ) x ftm reader

ⓘ⠀reader has top surgery , use of cunt & pussy , fingering , public ( on beach )

Tans, seashells, crisp soda and icecream, perfect for a hot sunny day.

It was an idea pitched by one of your friends to hold a class beach day, and as the student president, you agreed and began to plan. The message you sent into the class group chat was bombarded with positive replies the moment you mentioned the word 'beach.' It seemed like alot of your classmates either wanted to escape studying or needed a break to cool off.

A familiar icon popped up underneath your message, Adrien's, but he didn't reply so you just guessed he would skip this event out too.

Stuffed in a car with all your friends, you allocated each friend to bring different things like drinks, food, beach balls and towels. You were in charge of packing the beach umbrellas and foldable chairs.

It was about a 3 hour trip to a beach nearby; one that wouldn't be bombarded with little children and an abundance of people.

When you got there with your friends — a little earlier than the set time — you took the initiative to start helping out with things and putting down your chairs and umbrellas. As you're hauling out the items from the trunk, you could faintly hear the raspy sound of someone calling out.

“Adrien, give me a hand here!” Your head instinctively turns to meet eyes with that stupid deliquent who seems to always show up wherever you are.

He was unusually early, perhaps earlier than you.

Adrien shoots you a toothy smirk before turning back to his buddy, helping the guy lift a cooler filled with sodas and probably beer as well. You shrug him off with a small scoff, rolling your eyes before going back to set up your things

You've successfully put up an umbrella and a deck chair away from the water, letting your body relax on the chair.

You weren't even planning on swimming today but you brought a shirt and some swim shorts just in case you wanted to just dip your feet into the icy water and feel the waves crash against your knees.

Staring out to the shore you watch as your friends run into the water, splashing and kicking sand up st eachother. You would join but, swimming wasn't something you particularly liked, especially the feeling of your wet swimsuit sticking to your skin.

“What are you doing all alone, prez?” His voice comes out smooth and almost tantalizing as a hand slides over your shoulder. You flinch harshly, whipping your head around to see Adrien in his full glory, shirt off, slightly damp hair and crystal clear water droplets gliding down the curves of his muscles.

Before you could say anything, Adrien pulls up another chair and slides it right beside you. The wooden bits of the deck chair clink together and he lowers himself on it with a small sigh of relief.

“The boys are playing like gladiators out there, felt like I was gonna die,” He laughs and you see his chest stutter as he does. He lets his head rest on his hand, elbow jutted out as he turns to face you.

“But really, why aren't you swimming? I'd love to see you shirtless and wet.” You roll your eyes and scoff, shaking your head as you stretch out your legs.

“I just don't feel like it,” You hum nonchalantly which earns a breathless laugh from Adrien. He places a hand on your stomach, inching closer to you. His fingers lightly drum on your stomach, earning that slight hollow sound.

He flicks your shirt up and burrows his hand underneath it, making a slow ascend to your chest, tracing over the raised lines underneath it.

“They're healed enough,” he points out, “Just let me see them.”

Your eyes quickly dart around, making sure that no one is watching. The beach stretches out quite far so the majority of the people were situated towards the middle with you and Adrien being in a more empty area.

You don't fight it, you just look away as he pulls up the shirt to your chin. The cool ocean breeze hits your bare chest, pulling out a view shivers from you. Adrien has seen your scars, multiple times but its always a surprise to see how his eyes soften and how he caresses them so delicately.

“Y'know people won't care if you just swim shirtless, you're a dude it doesn't matter,” He's leaning his head over to kiss your scars in which you push his face away. He laughs and moves his hands back down to rest on your lower stomach.

“You should get out of here before anyone sees you talking with me,” You manage to breathe out, moving your hand to his, attempting to pry them off your exposed skin. Being in such an open area with all your classmates undoubtedly gets you anxious, especially considering how long you've kept your relationship with Adrien a secret.

“Why? People can't handle me spending time with my boyfriend?” It just rolls off his tongue the way he claims you're his — even when you're not.

You're about to retaliate, about to shout whatever insult that comes to mind but you feel his hand move down to cup your crotch. Your body jerks at the touch and you shoot him a glare but he returns it with a sly smile.

“You're not my boyfriend,” you manage to force the words out your throat.

“Yeah but can any guy make you feel like this?” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts, pushing pressure onto your cunt. You can't help the curses that flow from your lips and the fact that you're arching your back into his hands.

“They don't know how to treat you right, only I can,” You can hear the jealousy drip off his tone like honey on a stick: thick and sickly sweet.

His fingers are brought back up and now he's pulling at your waistband, dipping his fingers underneath your shorts. His hand just glides over the smooth expanse of your pelvis, dipping down to your sweet, slick sex. Adrien starts by parting your folds with his index and his ring finger, skimming his middle over your fluttering hole.

You're so wet he can hear every movement his finger makes on you.

His thumb finds your clit, pushing the tip of it against that bundle of nerves. He's massaging circles on it, punching out a loud whine from your throat.

“Shit cutie, you're sensitive there?” He laughs, moving his hand lower so he could press his palm against it. Your little mewls and the way you grip onto the side of the chair so tightly makes Adrien want to rip your clothes off and fuck the daylights out of you, but he can't, he'll get caught almost instantly.

His fingers finally meet your hole, pushing in one finger slowly. You gasp, hips rolling up to grind your clit against his palm as he stuffs his finger into you. Adrien laughs again like he's having fun drawing all these reactions out of you.

Your warm, gummy walls hug his finger so snugly he has to slip in another one just to loosen you up a bit. He groans, driving his middle and ring finger into you. Everytime he pulls them back and slams them in your legs tremble and that obscene wet noise rings through his head like the aftermath of a drug.

“You like that prez? Such a good boy f'me aren't you?” Adrien bites his own, chapped lips, repeatedly ramming his fingers into you, watching as you laid your head back and let the moans spill out from your parted lips. The moment he starts curling his fingers up your body tenses and you absent-mindedly grab onto his forearm.

You're seeing stars with the way he's hitting your G-spot every single time he drives his fingers deeper into you.

“Fuck— ah– Adrien,” You cry out, moving your hand down to push down on his, encouraging him to put more pressure on your pussy. He gladly obliges, moving his fingers faster and pushing his palm against your clit with more force than before.

The familiar feeling of a knot wells up in the pit of your stomach and you know you're about to cum.

“C'mon, that's it.” Adrien can tell you're close from the quivering of your knees and the way sweat trickles down your forehead. He kisses the salt away before groaning as he feels his fingers get soaked from your orgasm.

He pumps his fingers slowly, letting you ride out your high before stopping completely.

“Shit, let me eat you out next tim—”

“Stop talking.”

doctors note ; hope i did alright for my first time writing for ftm reader T T

[nicksolemnlyswears]

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of murder and death of a child, surprisingly i thinks there isn't any cursing or smut, maybe next time ;) just good old sad aegon

a/n: this is my first time ever writing for HoTD or GoT for that matter. please be kind to me. i tried to use appropriate wording for the time period. i'm somewhat successful but i have work ahead of me to become a pro.

i felt so enraged when alicent walked out on her grieving son to go fuck around with cole. what the fuck is your problem? i always gave her the benefit of the doubt but this episode just proves what a terrible mother she is. i figured the only person fit to comfort my baby boy aegon is someone raised by rhaenyras gentle heart.

lowkey want to make a throuple out of reader, aegon, and helaena. readers gonna be a little psychologist lol. she'd hold their hands and force them to kumbaya haha but obviously they'd be like this cant work without you. maybe they'll follow aegon the conqueror and have her as a second wife but idk would anyone be interested in that? i'm rambling. enjoy!

Helaena’s Turn

STAY WITH US

The cold stone of the Red Keep kept you company as you strode through its halls. The breeze of the night offered you comfort and aided your mind to forget the terrible events that have plagued the Keep.

And yet, despite your energies being depleted, you can't seem to find rest. Loss weighs you down and spirals you into a depth of overbearing thoughts, making sleep a mere idea.

The Red Keep, the place you once called home, has become your prison. For weeks, you were not allowed out of your chambers, and for a short time afterward, a guard followed you wherever you went.

It has all changed, though. The death of the King's son has diverted all of the guard's forces to find the culprit. The priority is to search for the monster that gruesomely and cruelly decapitated a child while he slept rather than to watch over a harmless Princess who is simply not on their side.

As a result, you're now free to roam the castle, granted there are eyes all around. You wouldn't be able to step foot outside the castle if you tried, and any suspicious activity would immediately be reported to the Hand of the King.

For an unknown reason, your feet guide you to the King's chambers, where indiscernible, muffled sounds come from. You look around and find that the guard meant to protect the King is absent. It's worrisome. You stand in the middle of the stone hallway, your hands clasped, as you make a decision.

While your loyalty lies with the Blacks, you cannot stand and watch more of your family be killed, including the Usurper. Daemon has always been 'kind' in mentioning that your gentle heart will cause your death. You'd argue it's an honorable way to go.

You slip through the ajar door quietly, getting closer to the sound. There is destruction across the room. The Old Valyria model your grandfather worked on for most of his life is scattered on the floor, beyond salvation. Goblets and spilled wine, thrown in a fit of rage, decorate the walls.

It is only when a sharp gasp and a shuddering breath echo around the room that you recognize the sounds you heard outside. They are cries.

You release a breath of relief. No one is in danger, although it does not signify someone is not hurting. You peak further into the room and debate on your next course of action. If the mess inside the chambers and the lack of guards mean anything, it's that the King would like to be alone.

But you know Aegon. You grew up with him. He's not one to reach out for help until it's too late. You make a haste decision. Aegon will not grieve alone tonight.

You know what that's like. Your brother, Lucerys, was murdered not too long ago, and you had no choice but to mourn alone. The Hand of the King locked you in your chambers, afraid your temper would lead you to do something drastic. It's the most horrid thing you've ever endured.

How you wished for Rhaenyra, or anyone for that matter, to hold you while you cried. A maid would've sufficed, but no one was allowed entry into your chambers.

Aegon sits by the fireplace, his head hung low, as he cries for his dead son. It might not have looked like it, but Aegon deeply cared for the boy. He wished to be better than his father ever was, and he was succeeding.

Until two days ago.

You've witnessed firsthand the blanket of sorrow that has covered the Red Keep, spent many hours by Haelena's side, offering her your shoulder, and never realized the King would need the same.

Why is Aegon alone? He should not have to go through this by himself. You expected he would have surrounded himself with his men and countless bottles of wine or sought refuge in Helaena's arms since they shared the same grief.

A heartbreaking cry snaps you out of your thoughts—his whole body trembles from loss. Aegon gasps for air to aid his burning lungs, yet he can't control the tears that track down his cheeks and the raking breaths that course through his body and limit his breathing.

He does not know what to make of himself. His fingers shake as he fumbles with the ring on his finger—the one with the dragon crest. Aegon doesn't know what to make of himself. He's never endured this sort of loss.

His sobs are the ones of a man who lost a part of himself. Jaehaerys, his legacy, has gone too soon. Aegon spent time with the boy the morning before his death, doting on him like Viserys never did to him.

He's so lost in his grief that Aegon doesn't hear when you stumble upon a piece of cast from the model. Being careful with your steps, you reach Aegon's side and place a hand on his shoulder.

Alarmed, he turns to face the person who disturbs him, only to find you—you who have been keeping the Hightower siblings together despite belonging to the other side.

"Leave me be," he sniffs, staring back into the fire. He wonders if that's how his son's pyre looked earlier that day.

You kneel on the floor, settling between his legs to cup his cheeks in your palms. Wide, glossy lilac eyes stare back as they fill with more tears.

As his tears fall, you wipe them away. It's enough to make Aegon crumble in your arms, releasing louder cries and questions that will forever remain unanswered.

It's so easy to let go when you know someone is there to catch you.

Aegon fists your dress like a child would to its mother. You rub his back soothingly, holding him as tightly as you're able. You press a kiss to the side of his head, whispering calming words.

Aegon never wanted to be king, yet the moment he tries to fulfill his duty the moment he tries to be a proper king, he is rewarded by his son being brutally taken from him.

It's not a fair world. The Gods have never been kind to him, and he's afraid he'll only ever live a life of torment.

Now, more than ever, he doesn't want to be King. It is a mere reminder of how heavy the crown truly is. It's a shackle meant to keep him in place while others act upon his name while he pays for the consequences.

"Jaehaerys was a bright soul. I am sorry this has happened. You should've never had to experience this pain," you whisper in his ear. No parent should experience the death of their child. It is a sad reality the Targaryens have experienced all too well.

Aegon nods in agreement, and only when he's calm enough to speak does he tear himself away from your embrace. He instantly misses your warmth and the smell of roses in your hair.

"Why are you comforting me when you should be celebrating my demise?" His waterline is stained red, just like the tip of his nose, and he's never looked more innocent than in that moment.

You tilt your head sadly, that same emotion reflected in your eyes. "I do not celebrate the loss of innocents, especially one that has gone too soon. I also do not particularly like the notion of someone I hold dear grieving alone."

"You did," he sniffs. He remembers hearing your cries that night; the whole Red Keep could. You cried and screamed the entire night until you fell asleep from exhaustion and starvation.

Otto prohibited them from coming to you. Haelena tried, but he dismissed the idea with the false notion that you'd hurt her in your grief. Otto confuses you with your parentage. Unlike them, you're kind and gentle and wouldn't dare hurt anyone.

"Which is how I know I would never wish it upon my worst enemy." You brush your fingers through his blonde hair, tucking the messy strands behind his ears.

"Is that what I am to you? An enemy?" He asks, disgruntled.

"No," you answer immediately, your hands coming down to rest upon his chest. His breathing has calmed since you first saw him. "At least, not yet."

His lilac eyes bore into hers in search of the truth; shyly, you hold onto his gaze with nothing to hide except your intentions to help. Sighing, he closes his eyes and bumps his forehead against yours. Aegon will take what he can get. There's seemingly no one else to help him deal with his emotions.

"Stay," he pleads, holding onto the hand that's placed on his chest. This is the most at peace he's felt in a while. He wishes to savor it for a moment longer.

"For as long as you need, my King," you reply, closing your eyes.

"Aegon," he says. He refuses to be reminded of what lies outside his bed chambers. For just a moment, he wishes to simply be Aegon.

"Aegon," you respond, correcting yourself. He squeezes your hand appreciatively, tucking your head on his neck.

He keeps you in his arms until late hours in the night, recounting memories he shared with Jaehaerys. The pain is real and raw, and he won't be well for a long time, but for this night, Aegon will seek solace in your embrace, where he knows he won't be judged or be seen as a burden.

In your arms, he's not Aegon' the Magnanimous.' He's not seen as careless or reckless or the lesser child of Alicent Hightower.

He's Aegon.

helaena’s part has been posted! HELAENA’S TURN

Final part! STAY WITH US

that’s it! it’s sweet and short. i just wanted to have someone comfort aegon like he deserves. during that scene i wished i could jump into t he screen and hug him. it’s all so tragic.

i wish i could do the same with haelena. my girl needs to be coddled. fuck alicent. fuck otto. most importantly fuck criston cole.

if you enjoyed this one shot please don’t forget to like or comment and if you want more of it feel free to let me know! i don’t bite (unless you want me to)!

[another-lost-mc]

Welcome Home: When MC returns from the past.

Featuring: The Demon Brothers x gn!Reader

SFW // Content: Bittersweet angst with a happy ending. It's implied that MC has been gone for a significant amount of time and that the demon brothers spiraled after MC disappeared. Includes mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms including: drinking; implied self-isolation, depression; destructive or violent behaviour; mention of blood/injuries; mentions of Lesson 16 events. 6.9k words.

Read The Worst Goodbye (part one) here.

LUCIFER

Lucifer glances at the clock on his desk and sighs wearily, rubbing the heel of his palms against his eyes.

He already knows it’s going to be another long night of forcing himself to focus on filling out paperwork, on preparing student council memos and the countless other tasks he’s taken upon himself since you disappeared.

A cursed record plays quietly and the fire in the hearth crackles each time a log shifts or splinters. 

A nearly-empty glass of Demonus leaves a rim of condensation on the dark wood desk. He used to keep track of the days that have passed in your absence, but now he counts the empty bottles of that bittersweet amber drink instead.

It’s not only his own vices that weigh heavily on his mind; his brothers aren’t faring any better without you. Their behaviour swings wildly from bored indifference to reckless abandon. He’s not sure what’s worse: forcing them from their rooms when some of them refuse to go to class or work (or eat and bathe or shower), or dealing with their chaos when they decide to replace grief and misery with the wicked temptations and misdeeds of their sins.

You would be disappointed in them, he thinks. You would be disappointed in them all.

But what else can they possibly do while they wait for some glimmer of hope that you’ll come home again?

He remembers the tense conversation he had with Diavolo about your situation after you disappeared with barely a hint of warning. All he had were Solomon’s vague assurances of your eventual return to comfort him.

Lucifer listened to Diavolo’s insufficient apologies and condolences, but he couldn’t help but glance at Barbatos whose sharp gaze was at odds with the neutral expression on his face. He wondered how much the butler knew about your misfortune, and he’s wondered since then if he should’ve fought harder to force him to bring you back from wherever you were.

Now he passes his time with busywork because he has no one to remind him not to work. He drinks too much to dull the pain in his head and his heart. He sleeps on the couch in his office, or sometimes he slumps on his desk when exhaustion consumes him, because it’s better than lying in his large, empty bed alone.

It shouldn’t have surprised Lucifer that Cerberus eventually realized you were gone too. He went to the family tomb one evening, startled awake by three mournful howls that shook the foundations of the house. He used the bit of magic that gave Cerberus a manageable house-friendly size and without warning, the dog ran past him up the stairs. When Lucifer found him again, the three-headed dog was whining pitifully and pawing at your bedroom door. 

Lucifer hadn’t entered your room since you left, but he had to prove that you weren’t there. That didn’t stop his hound from searching the rest of the house before returning to Lucifer’s side, ears drooping and each head whining in confusion as they bumped against his legs.

Cerberus has barely left his side since, trailing after him and sleeping in front of the fire while Lucifer’s pen scratches quietly across the papers on his desk.

Lucifer contemplates giving up on his work for the night and resting on the sofa, but he frowns when Cerberus stands up suddenly and trots across the room. The door must not have been closed tight because he nudges the door open with one of his snouts. All three heads tilt curiously and he sniffs noisily. Lucifer rises from his chair with a curse when the hound bolts out of the room, howling as he runs out of the library and into the dark hallway past.

Lucifer’s steps are slow and clumsy at first as he shakes off his desperate need for sleep, but he needs to catch the noisy creature first. The last thing he wants to deal with right now is his brothers waking up in the middle of the night in foul moods and causing even more of a ruckus.

The dog’s strange howling stops somewhere near the front of the house, and Lucifer freezes when he turns the corner just in time to see Cerberus knock someone to the floor.

You.

He knocked you to the floor so each of his heads could yip excitedly and lick at your face. When you laugh and try to push the animal away, Cerberus plops down on your legs and seems content to keep you trapped there.

Lucifer, staring wide-eyed and speechless, takes a hesitant step, and then another, before breaking into a run.

It’s not long after that when each of his brothers each stumble drowsily into the hallway, grumbling and snarling and glaring because of the loud disturbance that woke them from their sleep.

Their tempers die down and it's utter chaos when they process the sight in front of them: Lucifer chuckling while you hold each other in the middle of the hallway floor near your bedroom, the Avatar of Pride wearing a rare smile and with even rarer tears shining in his eyes, and Cerberus panting happily nearby as if he was the one who brought you home for his grumpy master to find.

MAMMON

Mammon spins in a slow circle where he dangles from the dining room ceiling. The rope binding his hands behind his back doesn't budge no matter how hard he tries to rip it apart and set himself free.

"Yo, someone get me down from here, will ya? All this spinning's makin' me dizzy!"

But he knows it's useless. None of his brothers will test Lucifer's short fuse by setting Mammon free, and there aren't any brave humans around to help him anymore.

"It wasn't even that bad. I swear I was gonna return it..." Mammon grumbles to himself. So what if he's gotten a little reckless lately? He's no worse than his brothers are, but that arrogant prat Lucifer doesn't tie them up like this.

He braces himself for a long, boring day, spinning for hell knows how long, until Lucifer remembers to set him free.

"Oh no. Mammon. What did you do to upset him this time?"

His body jerks when he hears—thinks he hears a familiar voice. He recognizes the silhouette of the shadow that stands in the doorway briefly before stepping towards him, but he shakes his head like it’ll make the illusion fade away.

That's gotta be his imagination, right?

"You son of a—this is a cheap shot, even for you," Mammon snarls, cursing Lucifer for teasing him with an illusion of all things. Why else would you suddenly appear before him like a dream - or a nightmare - except to taunt him?

Isn't suffering without you punishment enough?

“Here, let me help you…” The voice is quieter now, but close. Gentle hands tug uselessly at the cursed rope holding him in place and he clenches his eyes shut tight and reminds himself that you’re not here.

But then he recognizes the sound of a tongue clicking in frustration, the barely-audible murmurs about Lucifer needing to loosen up, and he crumples in a heap on the floor when a spell he doesn’t recognize causes the ropes to vanish without a trace.

He bumps into someone’s legs when he rolls over, but he doesn’t get up. He throws an arm over his eyes instead.

It's not you, it's not you, it's not you—

But he grunts when a heavy weight suddenly plops down on top of him and he can’t help but breathe deep when a familiar scent tickles his nose. It makes him shiver, gives him hope, and he whimpers.

You nudge his arm aside so you can cup his cheeks in your palms and force him to look at you. Your thumbs swipe away the tears that slip from the corner of his eyes; you're not sure if the sound that rips from his throat is a sob or a laugh.

He stares at you for a long time before he speaks again, and for the first time in ages, he feels something other than pain.

"Don't you dare think of leavin' me behind the next time you decide to disappear like that," he threatens. There's no heat in his voice, only slow acceptance and relief that you're finally back where you belong—with him.

He crushes you against his chest in a tight hug while you whisper apologies into the crook of his neck, and you stay that way - curled together in the middle of the dining room floor - until the others find you later.

LEVIATHAN

Thump-thump-thump.

Levi's TV across the room drones on quietly, a random anime DVD playing on repeat for the dozenth time, but he doesn't pay attention to it.

Thump-thump-thump.

Levi's computer pings faintly, barely audible over the hum of Henry's aquarium. He hasn't sat at his desk in ages, he hasn't logged in for any of his gaming events or guild raids and he stopped keeping track of what his favourite idols are up to. Notifications on his social media accounts and emails are ignored and left unread.

Thump-thump-thump.

His D.D.D. vibrates somewhere in the tangled mess of blankets and pillows underneath him but he ignores that too. It's probably Lucifer reminding him that he needs to go to class sometime this week.

Unlike his brothers, Levi's not going to pretend he's fine.

He hasn't been fine for a long time.

Thump-thump-

A knock on his door startles him and his tail stops thrumming against the side of his porcelain tub. He pokes his head out from the nest of blankets he buried himself in and glares at the door across the room. The orange of his irises flare in a menacing glow from underneath the hood pulled over his head, the drawstrings chewed and frayed ages ago.

Everyone knows not to bother him. It was a very simple request.

Are they stupid?

He pulls himself out of the tub with his teeth bared. Maybe a little scuffle with one of his nosy siblings will make him feel better—will make him feel something.

He yanks the door open but freezes when he recognizes you, standing in front of him as if you didn't vanish from his life without a trace. Your knuckles are raised like you were about to knock again, and you rock back and forth on your heels as you lower your hand in embarrassment.

Levi's mouth flaps open and shut, but before you can say anything, he lets out a high-pitched squeak and slams the door shut in your face.

That's not the worst reaction you imagined, so you consider it a win.

You press your ear against the door. There's shuffling inside his room, the faint sounds of something hitting the sides of his tub. You knock again softly to warn him before you push the door open and let yourself inside.

Aside from the glow from the aquarium, his room is dark and suffocating. You step gingerly over the piles of books and movies strewn haphazardly across the floor; he never used to be so careless with his collections. An empty food wrapper crinkles under your foot and you hope he hasn't been surviving only on his private stash of imported candy.

There's a familiar lumpy shape laying across the bottom of the tub when you peer over the edge. His sniffles are muffled by the blankets and pillows he's hiding under. The only part of him you can see is his tail that dangles limply over the side.

You sit down next to his tail, careful not to touch it in case he doesn't want you to. It was always a sensitive part of himself and he didn't like others touching it so freely; you're not sure he'll grant you that privilege again anytime soon.

"Levi?"

His tail twitches at the sound of your voice. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes peer out from a gap in his little hideaway. There's a lot of emotion swirling in the gaze that narrows at you suspiciously: pain, confusion, anger—all tempered with the tiniest bit of hope.

You lean forward and press your hand against him where you think the curve of his shoulder is. You're gentle enough that he can ignore it or shake you off if he wants. His body deflates under your hesitant touch like he finally let go of the breath he's been holding for so long. He blinks at you, eyes widening as he dares himself to believe you're actually there. More of his face peeks out at you when he slowly peels the blanket away.

"I'm back." The words croak out of you, and your voice is watery like the tears that sting your eyes. His only response is a wounded noise he makes at the back of his throat. You recognize it instantly—you made sounds just like it when you were first torn away from here. Away from him.

You know you have so much to explain and apologize for, and you don't even know where to start, but before you can say anything else, his tail coils around your wrist. You tumble forward when he pulls you down into the tub with him. His arms and legs and tail curl themselves around you, and if you didn't miss him as much as you did, you might complain about how uncomfortable it is.

He mumbles apologies into your chest because he was convinced that whatever happened to you was his fault somehow.

You spend a long time trying to reassure him it wasn't his fault at all.

SATAN

As soon as you get your bearings, stumbling in your room where the portal suddenly dropped you, you want to see Satan. You need to see him.

You love him. You missed him. You worried about him, and you worried for him. He might not always show his rage or act on his violent impulses with you anymore, but you can only imagine what he must've felt when you disappeared.

You saw what he was like before—young, lost, bewildered and so unspeakably angry—and you need to see for yourself what's happened since your untimely absence.

It's disorienting trying to make your way out of your bedroom. It's dark and a bit dusty, and the furniture isn't quite where you left it. You bump your knee and trip more than once making your way to the door. The knob sticks as if it hasn't been opened in ages.

Part of you pushes down the sting that maybe the brothers abandoned your room completely and tried to pretend you didn't exist since you’ve been gone.

(If you could see better in the near darkness, you'd know that most of your bookshelves and drawers are almost empty, picked clean by each of the siblings who took your belongings to keep in their rooms instead.)

Nothing can prepare you for what you find when you head up the stairs to the second floor and stop in front of Satan’s door, or what's left of it. There's giant gashes in the wood and you're careful not to scratch your arm on the sharp splinters where claws (or perhaps his tail) broke through it.

You used to tease Satan about the stacks of books he kept on the floor, organized chaos to anyone but him because he could tell you exactly where each and every book was kept. There's no wobbly piles of books on the floor to stumble into now. Broken book spines and torn pages litter the ground beneath your feet, and you can feel the crunch of glass that you assume are the remains of his old lanterns. Even his bed is barely recognizable—the mattress is ripped to shreds and the frame is bent and disjointed.

His bedroom is the embodiment of the fury deep inside him when he realized you were gone. Missing. Taken. And for all his power and his intelligence and wit, even he couldn't find a way to bring you back.

It wasn't your fault either, but faced with the evidence of his misery, you can't help but feel guilty.

You leave his room and in your daze, your feet lead you to the library next. There's a small part of you that fears Satan might've laid waste to another precious room in the house, but there's a flickering light underneath the doorway and you're hopeful it might be intact after all.

Like your room, the library's not quite the same as it was before. The shelves aren't as orderly, as if whoever's been reading the books and ancient tomes couldn't be bothered to put them back properly. There's a small stack of dishes piled on the table near the sofa—a strange sight because everyone knows it bothers Satan if they eat or drink in here. He hated the idea of spills or greasy fingerprints ruining the books by accident. Next to the sofa, a pile of books catches your eye because they're yours, taken from the bookshelves in your room. The spines are creased as if they've been read over and over again, acting as a poor replacement for your company.

There's a soft groan and you suddenly notice the figure laid back on the sofa. A familiar tuft of Satan's blonde hair rests on your pillow and your blanket spills over his legs and waist and onto the floor. The library is his temporary room, the sofa a makeshift bed where he keeps reminders of you close by, and he breathes deeply while he sleeps. His brow is creased as if he's unhappy even in his dreams.

You take a step forward and debate whether you should wake him up or not when the air shifts around you.

He moves faster than you can track with your eyes, launching himself off the couch and pinning you to the floor before you can even stutter out his name. His emerald gaze flickers with fiery rage, his hot breath fanning across your face, and his chest rumbles with a deep, predatory warning. His tail rises menacingly behind him and your throat runs dry at the very real threat hovering over you.

"S-Satan..."

It's almost comical, the way his eyes widen with recognition when you stutter out his name. He drinks in your appearance and by the time he scrambles off you and his demon form is gone. When he was confident in his anger moments ago, now he hesitates when he reaches out to you. He's not sure if you're really there or simply a mirage, the remnants of a dream he wishes he didn't have to wake up from.

As soon as you open your arms to him, he's in your embrace and nearly topples you both over in his haste to be close to you. His hands smooth up your arms and he cradles your jaw, tilting your head slowly as he checks for any sign of injury. He bumps his nose against yours when he's satisfied that you're unharmed, whether by his own hand or from someone else's, and he smiles a bit sheepishly when you do.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"I'm sorry I left you."

He seems content holding you on the library floor, nuzzling against your temple and inhaling the familiar scent of your skin. It's such a simple thing, but he enjoys it.

He hasn't felt this relaxed in ages.

"I saw your room." You're not sure why you blurt that out of all the things you could talk about instead. "I went there first to find you."

He clears his throat and turns away as pink dusts his cheeks. "Ah, well...I might've gone overboard." He's quiet for a moment before he looks at you, feigning a look of innocence that poorly masks the amusement underneath. "If I told you it was Lucifer's fault, would you believe me?"

Laughter bubbles out of you and he chuckles too. "Not a chance! But I'll help you no matter whose fault it was. There's nothing we can't fix together, right?"

"I'd like that," he murmurs against your cheek. 

ASMODEUS

Asmo was heading to the kitchen when he crashed into someone coming out of your bedroom. His arms flailed wildly at his sides while he tried to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling over. He ran his fingers through the curtain of hair that fell into his eyes, and the venomous anger pouring from his mouth came to a screeching halt when he realized the person he bumped into was you.

Your eyes were wide with shock, but you couldn't decide what surprised you more: colliding with your beloved demon after so many dreary days forced apart, or the anger that poured from him in waves.

"I'm back," you explained dumbly. Obviously. But he blinked his eyes rapidly like he wouldn't believe it.

"How?! I mean, when did you—?"

Whatever he was going to say next caught in his throat as his eyes flitted over your appearance. His gaze was critical, honing in on the smallest little details, the things that are different from the way you looked when he last saw you. Something about your hands gets his attention, and he holds them both gently in his palms.

"Oh, hon, who's been helping you with your nails? The polish is chipped."

His mood shifts so rapidly that it gives you whiplash, and you glance down at your fingers. Maybe it has been a few days, and sure, they might look a little worse for wear, but you're baffled that he noticed that of all things.

"Well, technically, you've been doing them for me." You smile gently at the joke because his past self was just as attentive to your needs and loved taking care of you in the simplest ways.

It might be the wrong thing to admit out loud, though. The guarded look Asmo gives you is so cold, so detached that the amusement fades from your expression.

"The least I can do is help clean these up for you now that you're back, hmm?" His voice is loud and a bit shrill, cracking on some of the words. He spins on his heel and tugs on your hand as he heads towards the staircase.

He doesn't notice - or maybe he just doesn't care - that the commotion reached the dining room. His brothers stumble into the hallway and you can't make out anything they're saying as they all rush towards you and try to talk over each other.

A terrifying growl rips through the hallway and startles them all into silence. it makes your skin crawl because you know the sound came from Asmo. His brothers don't seem impressed by him attempting to keep you to himself when you've just returned, but his aura crackles with something menacing and even Lucifer thinks twice about trying to stop him.

"We'll talk to you after you've had a moment to catch up in private," he suggests loudly. Asmo huffs in annoyance but his pace doesn't falter. He holds your hand tightly in his grip and you have little choice but to follow him up the steps towards his room. You shoot Lucifer and his brothers an apologetic glance before they disappear from view.

You're nearly at the top of the steps when a flurry of movement on the ground startles you. Familiar black shapes weave between your legs and snap teasingly at your ankles. You curl against Asmo's back with a nervous little yelp.

"They won't hurt you, you know that," he reminds you with a coo, and there's a gentle cadence to his voice that reminds you so much of the demon you missed all this time. He winks at you over his shoulder before he looks down at the scorpion familiars skittering on the floor, each of them radiating the faint pink glow of his power. "They'll make sure my brothers don't bother us."

As soon as Asmo ushers you into his room, he steers you gently towards his bed. The smile curling his lips looks strained. "Wait for a moment, darling, I'm going to—"

You reach for the sleeve of his dressing gown and stop him from leaving to do whatever he had planned. "Asmo, wait." You pat the bed. "I don't care about that right now. My nails can wait until later."

He bites his lip and his eyes are glassy as they fill with tears. He sniffles a little under his breath and wipes his face with his sleeve. "But I'm the one who's supposed to take care of you, not—" he looks away as his cheeks turn splotchy. "It's not fair that he was there for you when you belong here with me." He bites his bottom lip when it starts to quiver and he chokes out a sob. "I missed you so much."

You glance around his bedroom and his strange behaviour starts to make sense when you notice all the small things he's changed while you've been gone.

His vanity and closets are cluttered and not organized flawlessly like usual.

Your eyes pause on a strange, heart-shaped stain on his vanity mirror that you’re too nervous to ask about right now.

(In a moment of frustration, he smashed his fist into the glass the first night you disappeared. He repaired it with magic but smears of blood remained even when the cracks in the mirror vanished. He drew the little heart with his fingertip while he whispered your name like he thought it might summon you back to him, and he cried when it didn’t.)

His bed smells like the fragrance you normally wear, something you brought with you from the human world and he claimed he didn't like very much.

He removed his pillow cases and slipped some of your shirts over his pillows instead.

You wonder how you didn't realize sooner that the dressing gown he's wearing is yours, one of many gifts he gave you after you started dating.

His room is filled with your belongings, things he clung desperately to while he hoped and begged for you to come back to him.

"I think tonight we should take care of each other then, don't you?"

You hold your hand out to him, and it only takes a moment for him to stumble over to the bed. He gathers you in his arms and holds you so tightly that it's hard to breathe, like he's scared to let you go. You tangle your fingers in his clothes because you're just as needy as he is.

He whimpers your name against your neck,  interspersed with little kisses that are featherlight but still enough to make your head spin; your tears roll down your cheeks and mix with his, and they're wet and salty on his lips. He murmurs an inaudible mantra as he drags his mouth over your jaw so he can kiss you properly, and it leaves you both breathless.

—I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

The others aren't surprised at all when you and Asmo lock yourselves away in his room 'til morning. 

BEELZEBUB

The joy of returning home turns bitter in your heart when you realize Beel isn't there. His brothers are in the dining room and hear the noise when the portal unceremoniously drops you in the middle of your bedroom floor. They hear a thump and a soft oof! and by the time they scramble out of their seats and into the hall, you're already stumbling through the door and rubbing the soreness from your back.

The weight of six demons attempting to hug you drags you back down to the floor, but this time you're cushioned in someone's lap and suddenly the floor doesn't seem all that bad. Even though you're being squeezed within an inch of your life and they're all talking (and crying and stuttering) over each other, their voices are similar yet so different from the ones you heard in the past, you can't bring yourself to care.

By the time they quiet down to give you a chance to get a word in, you're hugged and warmed and loved like you haven't been in a long time.

The only thing that's bittersweet about your long-awaited reunion is Beel's absence.

"He's at Fangol practice," Belphie says. His voice is slightly muffled since he can't seem to stop nuzzling your shoulder. "He should be home soon."

Asmo's fingers are already tapping quickly across his D.D.D. "I tried calling already but he didn't answer. He'll want to know you're back."

"He might not see the message in the middle of practice," Lucifer warns him from somewhere at your back. "Perhaps one of us should go get him?"

There's a tinkling ping not long after and Asmo waves his phone in your face, but you can't possibly read it.

"Ha! And you thought it would be a waste of time, hmm? Well, I'll have you know that Beel said...'ok'? Huh." Asmo winces when disappointment flickers across your face at Beel's lack-of response. "I'm sure he's excited to see you! You know he's not very fond of texting."

"I think I'll wait for him in his room." The brothers slowly detangle themselves from you and return to the dining room to give you some privacy. They might not like it, but they know that something happened between you and Beel before you disappeared.

You turn around at the sound of footsteps jogging behind you and see Belphie trying to catch up. "I didn't want to say anything with the others around," he says quietly, "but you don't have anything to worry about. I already know he's rushing home to see you even if he didn't say he was."

"How can you be so sure?" You sniffle quietly and stare at your feet. "We had the worst fight before I—before what happened, and he was so angry."

Belphie glances at you over his shoulder as he pushes open the door to the bedroom he shares with his twin. “Trust me when I say that he’s not angry anymore, alright?”

You step into the room behind Belphie and instantly glance at the side of the room where Beel sleeps. You didn’t realize that your bed was stripped before but your pillows and blankets ended up on his bed. There are framed photos of you and Beel on his bedside table, and the sign you made for his last Fangol game - the one you missed when you disappeared - is hanging on the wall. 

“I can’t believe he kept that,” you whisper. The bright, sparkly paint spells out Beel’s name and jersey number in large, bubbly writing. The edges of the poster board are frayed and bent, but it’s obvious he tried to preserve it.

Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him after all.

Thundering steps outside catch your attention and you turn around in time to see Beel lean against the doorway like he sprinted home.

There are bags from Hell’s Kitchen hanging from Beel’s arm but Belphie hops off his bed and plucks the bags from his brother with a hum. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for later.” He pauses and gives his brother a pointed look, nodding not-too-discreetly in your direction, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

You’re not sure how long you stare at each other. His eyes take greedily over your face and body and he frowns like he’s scrutinizing your appearance, trying to see how—if—you’ve changed, searching out any potential injuries you might be hiding and how he can punish those responsible.

Likewise, you take in his field-worn appearance, the grass stains and dirt that clings to his uniform and skin. His hair is matted down and he smells strongly of evening dew and sweat. 

He’s filthy and grimy but you’ve never wanted him more in your life.

He grunts when you nearly launch yourself into his arms. Maybe later he’ll feel guilty about ruining your clothes with mud from the Fangol pitch, but when he breathes in deep and soaks in the familiar scent of your skin, all those insignificant problems melt away.

“I brought dinner for us,” he murmurs quietly as his cheek nuzzles against you. “If you don’t mind putting up with seeing me like this a little bit longer, I’d like to eat with you before I shower.” His chapped lips brush over your brow. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You cup his cheek and offer him a bright and teary-eyed smile. “And you know what? I think I’m starving.”

It’s not long after that containers of your favorite takeout are spread out on the dining room table. The others have vanished, probably at Belphie’s insistence, and you’re grateful to have this quiet time together.

If you end up in his lap while he practically feeds you, sneaking little tastes for himself with lingering kisses he presses gently to your mouth, that’s no one else’s business but yours and his.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie can't remember the last time he's gone this long without a proper night's sleep. When his brothers have trouble sleeping, plagued by haunted memories and their most insidious fears, he can put their minds at ease.

He tells himself it's a selfish gesture, because if his brothers' dreams are too vivid or too disturbing or too terrible for him to ignore, he can't sleep either.

The truth is, he doesn't want them to suffer.

Unfortunately, the Avatar of Sloth has no such saviour to save him from his own bad dreams. He can't call them nightmares because that's not what they are. They're fragments of memory and echoes of his deepest desires that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

More often than not, his brothers’ dreams are haunted by the ghost of you that disappeared without a trace. Every night when someone dreams of you, Belphie dreams of you too.

It reminds him of the cold, slippery sensation the night that your consciousness was dragged away into the unknown. The place in his dreamscape where your little pond of dreams and nightmares used to be is a black void in his subconscious, a gaping wound in his mind that rivals the empty spot in his bed where you used to sleep. Your warmth is gone and it leaves his sheets and heart bitter-cold.

Today, Belphie wakes up from a rowdy disturbance coming from somewhere else in the house.

His brothers can be so loud sometimes.

The voices downstairs that wake him quiet into an excited hush when they notice his arrival.

"Belphie!" Asmo cries happily when he reaches the bottom of the attic stairs and steps out into the hallway. "We were about to come wake you—look who's finally come back to us!"

Whatever his brother yammers on about next is drowned out by the static ringing in his ears; Belphie stares at the awkward group hug on the floor in front of him and has no idea what to say.

You looked a little embarrassed sitting in Lucifer's lap while Mammon clings to one arm and Levi holds the other. Your eyes are bright and watery with tears and a wobbly smile tugging at the corner of your lips when you realize he was there.

A trembling hand reaches out to him, uncertain but inviting. A hopeful gesture.

Countless times, Belphie imagined what he might do or say if–when–you finally came home. He was ready to spill his guts at your feet and beg you not to leave him like that ever again. He would apologize over and over again for all the terrible things he’s said and done before because he couldn't help thinking this was somehow his fault.

For reasons he can’t explain, unexplainable anger rises inside him and smothers the impulse to celebrate your return. The desperate urge to crawl into your lap and cling to you fizzles into nothing the longer he stares at you.

You know how badly he sleeps when you're not cuddled in bed next to him. It’s your fault he feels so awful, isn’t it?

He can only imagine what he looks like now, with his bedhead hair and pouty lips and the flaky crust of dried tears still clinging to the corners of his eyes. He rubs his face to wipe away the remnants with sleep, but he feels the familiar sting of hot tears building up instead.

Your love has made a terrible mess of him, and he’s not ready for this after all.

Someone shouts after him when he turns on his heel and heads back up the attic stairs without a word. He keeps walking and ignores the soft, wounded noise behind him; his brothers were quick to try and comfort you where he cannot.

"Let's give him a bit of space," someone suggests quietly. 

Slamming the attic door doesn’t feel as satisfying as Belphie hoped it would. He collapses back onto the bed and throws the blanket over his head. He tosses and turns and by the time he falls into another restless sleep, he still can't decide whether he's relieved or devastated that you didn't follow him.

It's deep in the twilight hours when Belphie senses a familiar dip of the mattress when someone slips into bed beside him. He tries to stay submerged in the weightless realm of sleep, but the sudden warmth of a hand resting hesitantly on his back ruins that plan.

"Isn't there someone else you can bother?" he grumbles into the pillow. He fell asleep face down and he stubbornly refuses to look at you. “Go away.”

"I’m sorry.” A heavy pause. “I couldn't sleep." Your voice is quiet but it shakes with something vulnerable that catches Belphie's attention.

With an indignant huff, he turns his head and pries an eye open and glances your way. The attic is shrouded in darkness but he can still see the downturned frown of your lips. When he rolls onto his side and leans closer, he looks past the watery film that makes your eyes shimmer and notices the dark shadows underneath them that he didn’t notice before.

Exhaustion radiates off you and he can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since you had a proper night’s sleep too.

He doesn’t ask about the things you did while you were gone or the things you saw. He remembers well enough what his own heart was like back then in that murky stretch of time when he clung to rage and hatred to soothe his own despair.

He doesn’t ask if you still have bad dreams about death or monsters that wear his face and sneer as you struggle against the bruising grip around your throat. He feels guilty that maybe he wasn’t there to save you from the version of himself that lurks in your memory.

The stiffness in his bones deflates as the chill from the attic subsides, replaced by the warmth of your body lying close to his. He places his hand tentatively on your waist and when you don’t flinch or move away, he urges you closer.

"I can help if you want," he offers hesitantly, a feeble apology to start to make amends.

But you understand the meaning behind the gesture for what it is: a peace offering for now until you can talk properly later. Considering his reaction earlier, this is more than you could've hoped for.

“I was scared to ask for help at first," you admit quietly when you rest your ear over his heart and sigh as the soft, familiar rhythm thumps deep in his chest. “You were angry earlier and I didn’t want to upset you even more if you weren’t ready to see me yet.”

Belphie ducks his head low and rubs your back as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck. The vibration of his noncommittal hum tickles your skin. “I’ll help you sleep tonight so you can make it up to me tomorrow.”

Tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that–

Convinced that he isn’t going to push you away and judging the coy grip of his tail that’s suddenly found itself wrapped around one of your legs, you let yourself lean against him fully with a long, weary sigh. It doesn't take long for your eyes to slip closed or for your breathing to sync with his as he lulls you gently into a peaceful state of rest.

Belphie feels his eyes grow heavy once he’s certain that you’re dreaming peacefully. He does sleep better when you’re here, after all. He’s held you in his arms like this before, far too many times for him to count, but it feels different than he remembers.

Has holding you like this always felt this satisfying, or did he take for granted all those times he dragged you to bed and assumed you'd still be there when he woke up?

He won’t make that mistake again.

"I missed this, you know," he whispers against the soft spot on your throat where your heart beat is strongest, pressing lazy kisses against your skin. He closes his eyes with a satisfied smile even though you don’t respond; the way your body melts against his is proof enough that you missed him too.

Read More: Obey Me Masterlist

[fire-starterdylan]

One thing he was grateful for, in a fucked up way, was that he really couldn’t see or hear anything.  Once he tried to shake the blindfold off, pressing his face into his shoulder and hoping for the best, but a guard caught him doing it and forced it back on his face - not without a sucker punch to the gut.  But maybe it was a blessing that he couldn’t see it all, that he was tuned out from everything.  The suspense and surprise of it all was killing him, knowing any second could be pain, causing him to be stiff and braced, at the ready for anything.   @brightwood-duchess​

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi!! i’ve been searching high and low for fanfic since seeing deadpool and wolverine LOL so i was wondering if you could do either head canons or a small fic (whichever you prefer) about deadpool x reader x wolverine? either a poly relationship or both of them trying to compete and woo reader? maybe it could take place during the movie events? tysm!

Your relationship with Wade and Logan oftentimes consisted of them trying to hog your for themselves, which leads to the other getting jealous and or upset, so much so to the point where they’ll end up squabbling over you preferred more.

This is not new as the pair seemingly have something against sharing but overtime it does get better and they’re less likely to fight over you and who gets your attention.

They’ve even had it scheduled out at one point but that didn’t last as either Wade or Logan would accuse the other of prolonging their time with you to the point it was intersecting with the other pre established times slots.

Logan: Oi scrotum face! You’ve been hogging them five minutes more than established!

Wade, acting coy as he clings onto you; oh am I? I’m pretty sure my cuddle session was 11:30 until 12:30pm-

Logan: it’s 12:35 dickhead!

Wade: *gasps* oh my gosh you’re right! I guess time must’ve slipped my mind when cuddling my pookie here *boops you on the nose*

Logan: *not too impressed*

When they’re not at each other’s throats over who you love more, they’re wooing you as though you’re not already fucking dating the pair of them. Particularly Wade more so than Logan. 💀

You’d find Wade draped across your bed with a rose held between in his hands, buck naked and with nothing but a pillow to cover his dick or ‘the surprise’ he calls it.

‘You can peg me tonight.’ ;) - Wade

‘I am so honoured, ass up baby girl.’ - you (probably)

Logan isn’t use to soft touches of love, he really isn’t and so if you were to ever kiss the places where his wounds once were before they healed, he’d melt. His smile is soft as he silently watched you kiss the knuckles, completely unafraid of his claws popping out and or caressing the calluses on his palms. At long last his soul was at ease, his mind was quiet as all Logan could focus on was you being tender and soft with him as though he hadn’t lived through the past 200 years of pain, trauma and suffering.

You treated him like he was just Logan Howlett and nothing more, not wolverine, not weapon X, just Logan and only Logan for that’s who the man sitting next to you was. You helped numb the pain whilst holding his hand through the nights were he awakes breathless and his claws out and ready.

Logan panics if he were to see that he accidentally nicked you with his claws during his nightmares, for hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do, and would try to push you away whenever you tried to get closer to him. He has hurt you and he shouldn’t be worthy of your comfort when all he could see was the really small nick on your arm.

‘Logan-‘

‘Don’t. I hurt you.’

‘It’s only a small cut, I’m fine Logan please.’

‘No! What if next time I cut you badly?’

Your heart broke whenever he got like this, so naturally you had to force yourself into his arms and make him come to terms with the fact that he would never hurt your willingly and grab ahold of his face, resting your foreheads together as you told him to focus on you and your breathing; showing him that you were alive and well.

Wade might as well have whined when you kissed his skin where wounds should’ve been before they healed. They’re his favourite moments between the two of you and would even imitate it back to you, but without the wounds, so it’s just him kissing your skin wherever whenever. He might even blow raspberries to keep the spirit of your somewhat goofy relationship alive and well.

Wade has photos of your dates, movie nights and such kept in somewhere in his room, whether that he a box or album, he has them and will look at them and smile because he’s a sap for making memories that’ll live forever much like him. He cares deeply about you and would even keep tokens or other random things as mementos too.

Some are more weirder than others.

‘This was a ticket when we went to the arcade.’

‘Oh this is that stick we both said looks like a penis when we took Dogpool to the dog park.’

‘This was the bandaid that you tried to use to cover my wounds before you found out either of me or wolvie could heal-‘

Logan and Wade don’t like to share, that we already know, but if someone who wasn’t aware of your polyamorous relationship with the two and decided to shoot their shot, they’d know first hand how much these men don’t play with you as Wade verbally beats them down with his crude sense of humour and Logan hovers over you, glaring as the poor person until they’ve ran away with their tail between their legs.

Remy?

Logan would growl and glare at the man while keeping a possessive hand on your waist, tugging you to his side to show that you were taken, or even have you wear his jacket to further get the point across to Remy.

Wade would just make a big joke out of it all the while having his hand in your back pocket. ‘You cant have our pookie, go get your own magic mike.’

Also when it comes to cuddling at night your either between Wade and Logan or Logan is in between you and Wade, or Wade is in between you and Logan. It changes now and then but when you’re in the middle of them both, it’s the safest you’ll ever be in your entire life, nothing can get to you and you can rest easily knowing that you’ve got two men who’d do anything to keep you safe and secure.