#he almost runs its almost too much for him

[deusfoundry]

18+ only mdni pls thank u :D also its my first time writing smut/something this explicit so please be kind 😭

kissing sylus is always such a dizzying experience, one that you can swear drives you to borderline insanity.

you usually catch him in one of two moods.

one, is when he likes to take things slow.

it's a few hours past midnight, hours past the time you should've went to bed if you wanted to get up early for work tomorrow. but you don't mind. really, every single bone in your body is screaming at you to stay where you are, perched right on sylus' lap.

your legs settle on either side of his thighs. they’re beginning to feel like jelly, nearly numb from being in the same position for so long. both of your hands are on his shoulders. your fingers dig into the fabric of his sweatshirt. an attempt, but ultimately a feeble one to ground yourself.

likewise, sylus' hands are glued to your thighs. his palms glide over the bare flesh, fingertips brushing against the hem of your shorts. beneath the thin fabric, he draws circles with his thumb, each drag of his rough pads on your skin brings him closer to the lace of your underwear.

he’s got no sense of urgency as he pulls away, lips lingering just a hair away from yours before leaning his head to give your neck the same amount of attention. you turn your head to the side for his convenience, and he gladly takes it as an invitation to smother the entire length of your neck.

sylus works diligently, lips moving in an almost snail-like pace as if to say that you've got all the time in the world. he doesn't move to another patch of skin until he's sure there are marks in the greater vicinity of each area he covers.

his lips travel down to your shoulder, leaving wet kisses in his wake. he takes the thin strap of your camisole between his fingers, toying with the fabric enough that it slips off. his teeth sink into your skin.

your breath hitches when that delightful mix of pain and pleasure hits your senses.

it's almost too much, the way he's taking his sweet time with you. how he pours the same amount of utmost care and attention over each inch of skin he comes across, until you somehow find yourself resting on your back at the couch.

the flimsy fabric of your camisole rides up. you find it harder and harder to breathe as he runs a hand over your bare stomach. sylus plants his lips right above the garter of your shorts. 

he tugs at the garter while he holds your gaze, an unspoken way of asking for your consent. your nod is accompanied by a quiet hum that he takes as his cue to pull your shorts all the way down, tossing the garment carelessly over his shoulder.

you're left in your camisole and underwear. it's far less skin than you've shown sylus before, who's seen and memorized every little nook and cranny of your body, but you still feel the urge to squirm. to shy away from his touch and to hide from his eyes that nearly burns holes into your skin from the intensity of his stare.

but he doesn't give you the chance to do either when his hand flies to your inner thigh, slightly spreading your limbs apart.

“don't go hiding on me now, sweetie.” his lips replace the hand on your thigh. the teeth that digs into your skin makes you whimper. “relax, we've got all night.”

other times, he's overtaken by the carnal need to devour you whole. 

he's got you pinned down on the mattress. the cool silk beneath a stark contrast to your flushed, heated skin. it serves as a reminder of how sylus can get you all hot and bothered with little effort.

you two have been going at it for what feels like hours, but it's barely been ten minutes since he dragged you from his office by the waist, the cookies you baked for him sitting long forgotten on his desk.

sylus pulls away, just enough to have you rising from the bed as your parted lips chase after him on instinct. he can feel the ghost of your lashes as your half lidded eyes flutter open. 

you pout. sylus struggles to hold down the chuckle blooming from his chest. 

"stop being mean.” 

"i don't know what you're talking about, sweetie." sylus acts innocent, but he's got a shit-eating grin on his face that lets you know he's messing with you. "am i not allowed to breathe?"

he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. like he's never pushed you to the boundaries of how long a human being can last without oxygen. like he doesn't place a firm hand on the back of your head to keep you from catching your breath.

sylus full-on laughs when you turn away from him, shifting your body as much as his tight grip on your wrists will allow so that you're angled away from him.

cute. he thinks. did you really think he can be denied that easily?

sylus releases his hold on one of your wrists. his now free hand finds your chin, fingers lingering above skin for a moment before he uses just enough force to turn your head towards him.

you gasp. the tiny sound you make that's barely louder than a whisper travels straight down.

for half a second, you lock eyes. but you're determined to keep up this little charade despite the hand on your chin, eyes darting to look at anything but him.

“kitten,” he feels the way you squirm beneath, can almost feel the shiver running down your spine. “look at me.”

with little hesitation, you will yourself to face him. and when your eyes find his, sylus wastes no time in capturing your lips between his own.

it's awfully pathetic, you think, the way you gasp for the second time in less than a minute. but you don't think you can pin the blame on yourself entirely when it's sylus.

sylus, who's rapidly starting to fill your senses, consuming you wholly. he's in each breath of air you take through your nose, a mix of leather and cedarwood fogging your mind. he's all you can ever think of tasting as his tongue works wonders inside your mouth.

hell, he's even in the back of your eyelids. a picture forever burned in your mind, a memory carved so deeply into your soul.

he slots himself between your legs, dragging one of his thighs up the sheets until it meets with your core.

sylus swallows each sound you make, from the quietest whimpers to the most shameless of moans, as he grinds his thigh against you. the muscle presses into you with pressure that's enough to drive you crazy, but not enough to send you careening over the edge.

 he knows this. of course he does. he notices it in the shortening of your breath, chest heaving and contracting deeply. in the frantic way in which your fingers travel across the large expanse of his back. in your soaked pajama shorts that's slowly seeping through the fabric of his pants.

“what's the matter?” and he'd be happy to give you more, to give you that push you need to reach blissful release. “tell me, sweetie, what do you want?”

only if you ask nicely.

“sy-” you manage between baited breaths. “please, i- i need more.”

“i’m not sure i get what you mean. care to help a poor man out?” his pace relents, leaning forward in a mock curiosity. satisfaction courses through his veins when he hears you whine.

his pants are starting to strain uncomfortably, the last bits of his restrain wearing thin. he wants you, as much as—no, a lot more than you want him. but he wants to make sure you get your fill first.

it's you above everything, after all.

“sylus, i need you-”

“you have me.” sylus presses against your clothed clit. “or is this not enough for you?”

you shake your head, desperate for release. “need you inside, please.”

“well,” he smirks, reaching down to move your underwear to the side before sliding right into your hole. the gasp that falls off your swollen lips is music to his ears as he starts rapidly thrusting two of his fingers in and out. “since the kitten asked so nicely, who am i to deny her request?”

[hanniebaeee]

Tempted

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: smut, friends to lovers?

Summary: Felix walks in on you, his best friend, pleasuring yourself and decides to step in and help you out.

The first thing Felix heard when he stepped into your shared apartment is a soft moan. It's so soft, he thought he imagined it. He dropped his bag and took off his shoes, when he heard it again. This time, louder.

He froze as he realized it's you. He was contemplating whether to turn and run, or maybe… just maybe…

He heard it again - the soft moan and heavy breathing. Felix’s heart raced - did he just walk into something? Were you with someone?

He would die if he were to walk in and see you fucking someone else because he has spent way too many years of his life being so madly in love with you. So he stood still for a second, hoping and praying that it's just you. And that's all he heard - just your voice.

He walked towards his bedroom, thinking he'll just ignore you. But he saw that the door to your room was ajar. No matter how much of a gentleman he is, he couldn't help himself. Inside, he saw a sight that made his heart stop.

You lay on your bed, your hand in your panties. Oh.

Felix’s eyes almost popped out as he stood frozen at your door, watching as your fingers worked feverishly between your thighs, your eyes closed in concentration. It looked like you were struggling to find your peak.

Unable to tear his eyes away, Felix watched your hand move faster, your body writhing against the sheets. Your breath came in sharp gasps, your moans becoming more desperate.

Felix's heart pounded in his chest and he bit his lower lip, completely aroused by the sight in front of him. And also by the fact that you were completely unaware of his presence.

"Y/N," Felix whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Baby…"

Your eyes flew open, a mix of surprise and embarrassment flashing across your face.

"Oh my God, FELIX! I didn't hear you come in," you stammered, as you tried to pull your blanket over you.

Felix took a step into the room, his gaze fixed on your flushed face.

"It's okay," He reassured, his voice low and sultry. "Can I help you?"

“W-what?” You squeaked, eyes wide.

But you didn't protest as Felix approached your bed. Felix’s heart was pounding, his body responding to the sight in front of him. He climbed onto the bed, sitting beside you and cupping your cheek with his hand. Your skin was so hot, that his hand felt ice cold against it. Before you knew it, he was leaning forward, brushing his lips against yours.

His eyes dropped down, slowly wrestling the blanket off your hands, and licking his lips as he saw the wet spot on your panties.

"You're so wet, baby," He whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "Let me help you cum."

You whimpered, your body relaxing into the mattress as Felix's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses. His hand found its way between your legs, and slipped inside your panties.

His fingers slid easily through your slick folds and he groaned at the feel of your heat. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow, firm circles.

"Oh God, Lix-," you panted, your hips rising to meet his touch. “Ahh-"

Felix’s thumb pressed against your swollen bud, applying just the right amount of pressure as his other hand pinched your nipple through your thin t-shirt. You gave out a sharp cry of pleasure, a hand gripping his wrist, completely blissed out.

"You like that, huh?" Felix murmured, his voice husky. "You want more?"

You could only nod, your eyes rolling back as Felix's fingers worked their magic. He increased the pace, his thumb rubbing in quick, firm strokes, while his fingers slipped deep inside you.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Felix growled, his own desire soaring.

Your body tensed, your breath coming in short, rapid gasps.

"Lixie, I'm close, so close baby…" you whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

Felix leaned down, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as his fingers worked relentlessly. Your tongue danced with his, your mouths moving together as your passion soared.

With a sharp cry, your body arched off the bed, your pussy clenching around his fingers as your orgasm ripped through you. Felix held you tightly, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure and kissing you deeply.

As your body relaxed, Felix slowly withdrew his fingers, glistening with your juices. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

"That was incredible," you breathed. "Oh my God."

Felix smirked, his eyes dark with desire.

"Happy to help," He purred, leaning forward to capture your lips in another deep kiss.

He settled himself in between your legs, hands already working on removing your t-shirt. Your breath caught as his lips found your collarbone, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest.

His fingers quickly unhooked your bra, eyes roaming over your pretty breasts. His hands cup them, kneading them gently, before pinching your nipples. He quickly took a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. You gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

"You're so beautiful, baby," Felix murmured, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "I wanna make you feel good."

Your body trembled as his lips trailed down your stomach. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them apart as his eyes took in how drenched you were.

"Oh God," you moaned as Felix wasted no time, and his tongue flicked out, teasing your clit through your soaked panties.

Felix licked and sucked at your sensitive bundle of nerves through the damp fabric. Your hips bucked as Felix teased and teased. You tried to stay still, but it wasn't the easiest thing as he nibbled at your clit over the ruined fabric.

“FELIX!”

With a wicked grin, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. You lifted your hips to help, and Felix held your gaze as he revealed your glistening pussy.

"You look so-" Felix moaned as his tongue slid through your folds, gathering your juices before swirling around your clit. You were a whimpering mess as you ground against his mouth, shocks of pleasure coursing through you.

"Yes, yes, please!" You whined, your hips moving in time with Felix's tongue. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Felix’s fingers joined the game, moving in and out of your hole as his tongue continued to tease your clit. Your body trembled, every bit of it screaming for release.

"I'm gonna cum, Lix, I'm gonna-" You cried, your hands gripping his golden locks as you held his head in place.

Felix increased the pace, his fingers pumping in and out, his tongue swirling relentlessly. Your orgasm crashed over you as wave after wave of pleasure left you trembling and gasping for breath. Felix continued to lap up all of your release, humming in approval.

As the tremors of your high subsided, you lay on the bed, content. Felix crawled up your body, his eyes burning with desire.

“I fucking love you.” You panted, watching him as he pulled his own shirt off.

“I love you too, baby,” He smiled, and it turned into a full laugh as you pulled him closer and kissed him.

You nibbled his bottom lip before whispering, “Your turn.”

a/n: Writer's block continues and I'm sorry if this isn't great!

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Game On. | Touya x Reader Imagine 🌶

LOLOL But imagine Touya fucking up into you bare for the first time...

Oh, you can't!? Well let me do it for you...

He finally has you naked in his bed like he's been dreaming about ever since you joined up with the League of Villains.

You'd knocked on his door and kissed him when he'd answered it - putting a fiery seal on 6 months of mutual pining and flirtation. You'd been so desperate for each other that he'd pulled you into his arms and kicked the door closed behind you. His lips were everywhere - your mouth, your cheeks, your pulse point. He'd unbuttoned your shirt and shed you of your clothes in record time. There was no time to be embarrassed about your nakedness - not when there's so much of Touya you still need to explore.

You pull at his hair, bite at his lips, run your hands down his toned, stapled body...there wasn't time to grab a condom, not when you need each other this badly. You were already so wet and desperate for him, he pressed his thick cock into you so easily. Touya slid into you smoothly like a knife into room temperature butter.

And so now here you are, riding him. Bouncing up and down on his cock like there's no tomorrow, like you won't need to have a serious conversation about what you mean to each other after this is all done.

Nope - no thinking. No planning ahead. Just you riding his emo fucking dick and cooing at him as he throws his head back and lets out the sluttiest little sounds you've ever heard.

His piercings and staples glint in the low light and his large hands move to grip at your hips, his touch almost bruising in intensity. His cock twitches and bullies its way up into your tight pussy as he searches for your G-spot. You gasp when he finds it, and he grins wickedly up at you when he feels you reflexively squeeze around him. He focuses in on repeating the motion again and again. Your tits bounce with the rhythm of his thrusts as he speeds up, grinding into you.

"You wanna cum, babe? You want me to fill up this tight fuckin' pussy?" He speeds up and brings a calloused thumb between the two of your bodies in order to rub at your clit. Heat pools in your lower belly and your cheeks heat up as you feel yourself at the verge of release. Touya grins up at you, wicked white teeth glimmering as he fucks you, enjoying himself.

"Don't worry about cumming too early, sweetheart. I bet I can get at least 3 orgasms out of you tonight." He flashes you a smile of bright white teeth as his cock twitches deep inside of you.

And at his inspired dirty talk, you fall over the edge and into oblivion, creaming on the cock of one of the most wanted villains in Japan. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you feel your pussy clench tightly around his dick, pulsing and fluttering in time with the pleasure of your orgasm.

Touya's icy blue eyes bore into your own. As he watches you cum, something in him falters and his eyes grow a fraction wider. It takes you a moment before you register what's going on - your orgasm is milking pleasure out of Touya's cock and the goddamn idiot is also cumming. His dick twitches once, twice, three times as he cums deep inside of you, fucking his ejaculate deeper and deeper into your tiny cunt.

Reading his body language you realize - his orgasm had taken you both by surprise. The goddamn idiot had thought he could holdout longer. But now here he is, filling you up to the brim with his thick baby batter.

"Fuuuuck!" He groans out, eyes fluttering shut as his hips work overtime to draw out his release. "Fuckin' hell." You feel his thick, hot ropes of cum filling you up and making the tail end of your own orgasm even more intense.

You groan as you both finish, crying out his name in such a pretty way that he doesn’t know what to do. His hands grab anything they can find – your hips, your breasts, your neck. He feels so good and he craves closeness – he’d climb into your goddamn skin if he could.

When you both come down from that heaven-sent high, you fall onto his chest and nuzzle into his neck. You're absolutely spent.

“Wow.” Is all you can say as you feel him gently pull out of you, cool air hitting your pussy as cum and arousal gush onto the sheets. He shifts you into a more comfortable position and you shiver as the sweat on your body cools in the AC.

“I’ll last longer next time.” He says, softness creeping into his voice. He sounds...embarrassed? You smile, savoring the rare spark of vulnerability. All sense of angry bravado has been abandoned now that he’s fucked out and breathless.

“You’d better.” You try to challenge him, but you’re too tired and too boneless to hold up your end of banter. “Hold me?”

He wraps his arms around you, strong biceps flexing against your bare skin. You feel the hard metal of staples scratch lightly across your skin as you curve into him. You shift your gaze up to his beautiful face, his mouth quirked into an unsteady smile.

His ice blue eyes search your face as he croaks out: “So…are we actually doing this?”

“Doing what?” You ask shakily, afraid of what his answer might be.

“You know damn well ‘what.’” He scowls, but his expression is softer than usual as he squeezes you to him. You can feel his heartbeat pulsing where your chests lay flush against each other. “I want you too badly. I want you to be mine.”

“Like…in a hookup-fuck-buddy kinda way? Or in an intense, deep devotion relationshipy way?” You ask, suppressing a giggle as Touya scowls at you with those endless icy eyes of his.

“Don’t make me say it.” He says gruffly, rolling his eyes as he looks past your face to stare hard into the cracking ceiling. “The latter. I need you all to myself. Idiot.”

“Touya, you’re so goddamn mushy I can’t stand it.” You say sarcastically, bringing up a hand to trace his sharp jawline. He fuckin leans into the touch. He’s so whipped for you, you practically glow with the realization. “So does that make me your girlfriend?” You tease.

He huffs, throwing you off of him and onto your back. You hit the plush mattress and sink in a bit, surprised at his sudden roughness. Seconds later he’s on top of you, kissing down your neck and sinking his teeth into your shoulder and sucking at the skin there. A bright hickey blooms quickly under his mouth and he smiles at it, content.

“If calling you my girlfriend gives me unrestricted access to this gorgeous fuckin’ body…then, yeah. I’ll let you be my girlfriend, sweetheart.” He whispers harshly, his fingers coming down to rub against your abused clit. You gasp, still over stimulated from your orgasm.

“You’re such a shithead jerk, Touya.” You moan in discomfort as he slips a finger inside of you with a squelch, pushing his cum back inside of you.

“Yeah, but doll I’m you’re ‘shithead jerk’ now. No take backs.”

You can feel him already getting hard again against your thigh, and you spread your legs to give him better access to your pussy.

Oh you are gonna have fun with boyfriend Touya. You gasp as he curls his fingers to hit your g-spot deep inside your still-shaky cunt.

You grin wickedly up at his ceiling.

Game on.

-------------------------

Woohoo a rare little one shot ficlet! Hope you enjoyed!

XOXO, RedRiotUnbreakableHeart ❤️

🔥Link to My Master List 🔥

[kinardsevan]

𝐢'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

listen. i'm still so convinced it's Tommy up on that crane in 807 that my brain keeps writing scenes 😂😂😂😂 so have this:

"Buck, you need to-"

He can't hear Bobby's words as he races up the ladder, panic rising faster and faster in his chest.

"Hey no no no no no!" He yells, throwing himself over the side. His hands grasp tight around Tommy's. "Stop stop stop! Please!" The words are coming out of him in sobs, but large hands grip around his wrists and a moment later, the older man tilts his head up and his eyes lock with Evan's.

"Ev-..." He cuts himself off, his voice wobbly and raspy from his current predicament.

"Just stop," Evan replies, snuffling as tears run down his face. "Stop moving, stop- just stop."

"Ok," Tommy replies, his voice weary as his fingers tighten around Evan's wrists that much more. The blonde glances up toward Chimney on the opposite crane. He's still working to get the harness unstuck, but apparently only having mild success with it.

"My legs are numb," Tommy states, blinking slowly. Chim looks up at them.

"Fuck this. I'm going to cut him down. The 217 can get the line fixed," Chimney states before heading back down the ladder in quick succession. "I need bolt cutters!"

"Evan," Tommy rasps. His hands are sweaty now, hanging onto the other man's arms.

"No," Evan replies, his voice tinged with anger now. "You have to hang on."

"You have to let go," Tommy counters to him, his voice exhausted. "Evan-" His grip slips on Evan's arm, and beneath them there's scrambling to get the inflatable placed properly. He glances over at the other crane as Chimney finishes reascending it.

"I can't," Evan replies, his own voice strained as he grips onto Tommy's arm with both hands now. "Fuck, Tommy, I can't."

"Why not," he asks wearily.

"Because!" Evan yells at him. Several tears fall off his face in quick succession, one landing on Tommy's own face as it continues its descent downward.

Somehow, even from beneath him, even with most of his blood volume hanging out in the lower half of his body with no way to make it circulate properly, Tommy manages to give him that look, the one that says he's really paying attention.

"Evan." He says it like it's Evan who needs to be talked off the ledge, like he's the one hanging in the middle of the air being held up by a crane.

"You don't get to give up now," Evan growls at him. "You already did that to me once this week."

"Are we really talking about this now," Tommy asks him. His fingers slip a few millimeters, but Evan curls his hand tight under Tommy's elbow, trying to pull him up.

"Seems as good a time as any," he replies. A humorless laugh slips out of him.

"I've almost got it," Chimney calls from the other crane.

Evan gulps. "It was too much, too fast," he states. "Asking you to move in. I s-said things that made it sound like I wasn't invested-.."

"It's fine," Tommy replies, sounding mildly exasperated.

"No its not," Evan argues, squeezing tighter on Tommy's arm. "it's not. Because it made me sound like I was asking you to move in because it's the easy option, like I wanted you to stay without any consideration of what your life looks like outside of what we are. Or were."

Tommy stares up at him, still blinking slow and long. Evan pulls his arm up inches higher, trying to take more of the weight off of his lower body.

"But it's not that," he says, sniffling again. "I lept before thinking, a-and made it into a thing that it wasn't and has never been." He sniffles again. "I didn't ask you to move in because I wanted to be impulsive. I said it because I want a life with you, a-and I was afraid to own that and what that means for me." He pauses and gulps, lets out a breath. "I was so pissed at you for breaking up with me, a-and you were doing the same thing I did. You were protecting yourself." Tommy stares up at him, eyebrows quirked slightly in confusion.

"I thought if I didn't say it, it was safer, that we-..." He shakes his head at himself as he feels the tension pulling Tommy back toward Chimney starting to wane as the bolt cutters work through the metal. "But I also want the whole damn thing with you. I'm not in it because it's easy, or because you were the first man to kiss me. I'm in it because I'm in love with you."

Tommy stares up at him still, giving him that damn look again, and the slack goes looser, his weight becoming even heavier on Evan's arms.

"I love you," he repeats. "I love you so damn much."

Tommy grants him a weary smile. "I love you too, Evan."

His weight falls entirely on Evan then, and both of their arms jerk out straight, Evan leaned roughly over the crane as he tries to keep holding on.

"Evan, let go," Tommy tells him.

"Please," Evan begs him, and he's not even entirely sure what it is he's begging for. "Tommy-.."

"I love you too," he repeats. "But you have to let go."

Evan gulps, forces a breath in, forces his tunnel vision to open up, and realizes the inflatable is ready and will catch Tommy. "I'll meet you at the bottom."

"Sounds good," Tommy rasps. And then, against everything that tells him he should, Evan lets go, watching as Tommy drops the 30 feet onto the inflatable crash pad. As soon as his body hits, Evan is already double-timing his way down the ladder. He makes it down in what he's sure is record time, running past everyone else to get to Tommy's side. Hen already has him on a stretcher, attached to a dozen leads and assessing his legs.

"Risk of compartment syndrome," she states. "Likely dislocation of the left hip. He needs x-rays and we need to go."

"I'm going with," Evan announces, refusing to hear reason to any other option. His hand is tight in Tommy's as soon as he's next to him, his other hand combing down the other man's hair as he stares down into those blue eyes. They're already brighter from his circulation picking back up. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Good lord just kiss the man already," Gerrard calls from the back of the crowd. Evan whips his head around and Tommy leans up off he gurney, both of them giving the old grump a shocked expression.

"What?" He asks. He has that grumpy look on his face once more, like he still thinks that their lifestyle is beneath him (at the very least). "We all know it's what you're thinking. I just said it."

Evan turns back toward Tommy, and the blue eyes meet.

"My boyfriend's sister once said there better ways to get someone's attention than this," Tommy says. Evan lets out a laugh, color flushing through his cheeks at the dignification of boyfriend. He curls two fingers under Tommy's chin and kisses him, both of them ignorant of the whooping and hollering happening around them.

"Like that," he whispers when they finally part, pressing his forehead into Tommy's. Tommy has a hand fisted around Evan's shirt, keeping him close.

"Yeah, that works," he whispers back. "I love you, too, Evan. I love you, too."

[in-death-sacrifice]

Okay so I gave this idea of being a companion for Rook and having a mutual pining think going on with Lucanis. Could you write anything like that?

Warnings: Mutual pinning, Comfort, Fluff, One bed trope!

Lucanis Dellamorte x GN!Rook

Hope you enjoy! Requests are open so please send them my way! I am working on a couple of oneshots too! Along with some smut so if there's any kinks you think work well with our assassins you want to see it send them in my requests!❤️

Lucanis stared at the ceiling, his heart beating so wildly as he looked at you. Your body so close to his, tucked perfectly under the covers as exhaustion finally crept in. He should sleep but he was worried about spite, about where he might end up without people guarding the exits. Or without the safety of being tucked away in a spot of the fade that no one could enter.

The group were exhausted after their fight against the antaam, most of them almost beaten to pulp with their new weaponry. You all chose to sleep in a nearby inn, the only trouble there was only one room left that was finished with a Twin and Double. He offered to sleep in the chair, knowing he wouldn't be able to get a wink if he tried hard enough to prevent it. But of course you disapproved, practically shoving him to the bed and instructing him to stay like a dog. It was cute seeing you care so much, his heart melting at the fact you didn't even flinch at the idea to lay next to him and his demon partner.

He could feel the heat radiating off your body, wanting nothing more than to run his fingers through the strands of your hair. He found himself getting lost in the thought of the texture, wondering if the strands were soft and silky or rough. The slithers of skin that your evening outfit gave off were enough to get the blood pumping southwards. He felt like a teenage boy laying here; begging for a touch at the first chance he shares a bed. Lucanis continued to watch you, the way your features are relaxed in your sleep; your chest slowly rising with each breath. He wondered if your calmness was because of his own presence, if you felt the same way as he did. If he tainted your dreams like you do with the few he got to experience.

He wanted to fight it, the need to be closer; the feeling of his eyelids getting heavier with each breath. He could just pump himself with coffee in the morning like normal but maybe spite would be quiet just this once. Allow him to relax and finally catch up on the much needed sleep to chase away his constant headache. He didn't get to choose as he finally succumbed to the darkness, falling into a pit of deep sleep...thankful no horrors of the past year to plague his mind.

When you awoke you struggled to move, there was something pinning you to the mattress. Your arm is outstretched to feel for the man beside you only to find him laying on your chest. His arms tucked tightly around your waist hugging you like you escape his grasp, turn to dust. His breathing was even, his hair messy and falling over his eyes instead of in its usual pushed back style. You could feel his breath against the skin of your chest, the puffs of air leaving goosebumps against your skin. You knew you should move, but you didn't want to. It felt nice, grounding to be held like this. So instead of waking up you fell back into your deep slumber, this time you fingers gently playing with the longer strands of hair at the back of his head. Maybe he likes you too but until you knew for certain...his frustratingly slow shows of affections would do for you.

You only prayed the dangers you both had to face would allow you to relish in this moment.

[consciouscarrot]

cw; dark themes, written and edited half asleep

thinking about a nightfall by penelope douglas type of situation with blackchurch, but instead of it being emmy getting dumped in with will and co, it’s reader being dumped in with tf141. (brief summary of context here)

the boys are stuck there, have been for years without any outside contact, especially not from women. they’re immediately enraptured with you, obsessed with your every expression and movement.

you met simon first; waking up in a panic then stumbling out into the hallway, desperately trying to figure out where the hell you were, freezing at the sight of a dark figure, barely concealed by the shadows. he’s tall, and visibly very strong, his face completely hidden, but you can feel his eyes on you, the heavy weight of his gaze locked onto you, watching you like a predator would its prey. you stammer out a few words, anything to get him to drop his eyes or tell you what was going on. he stayed silent, and you could’ve sworn you saw his shoulders shaking lightly, was he laughing at you? completely losing your nerve, you spun on your heal, running down the hall as you heard the man’s heavy footsteps behind you, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

price was next, you turned a corner and bumped right into his chest, strong arms catching you as you fell back with a squeal. he held you steady, raising an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth twitched up, holding back a smile. he’d waited so goddamn long for this, he almost couldn’t believe you were real. you looked so scared, wide eyes staring up at him as salty tears spilled down your cheeks, a quiet whimper escaping your lips as you feel simon press up against your back, sandwiching you between them.

price shushes you, asking you what your name was kindly, smile finally slipping past his grasp at the deep flush of your cheeks, before guiding you to the living room and sitting down next to you to ask you some questions. you were too scared to run again, knowing that there’s no way you could get past the two of them, yet alone run faster, they’d catch up in mere seconds. simon always loomed near, staying with his back leant against a wall in the living room as he watched the two of you talk. you couldn’t bare to look at him, far too terrified to meet his eyes in the much lighter room. the mask didn’t help. you weren’t quite sure what it was of, weren’t quite sure you could cope with knowing yet either.

johnny and kyle were last, loud barks of laughter echoing down the hall, interrupting your shy and brief answer to another of price’s questions. they trailed into the room, their conversation coming to an abrupt end at the sight of you, johnny’s eyes nearly bulging out his head as kyle’s jaw dropped.

price ordered them to sit, observing your reactions as you watched warily, very aware of the fact that you seemed to be in a house full of men in the middle of nowhere, no where to escape to and no one to protect you from them. kyle gave you a small smile, obviously trying to calm you whilst johnny looked like he might explode with excitement beside him, beaming at you before going into a erratic ramble of questions, giving you no time to answer before asking another one. you shook silently on the sofa, wracking your brain for some kind of a solution, hopelessly begging your mind to wake up from whatever horrific nightmare this was.

fearful tears streamed down your face, trying to slowly distance yourself from the men, shifting down the sofa and towards the door. you nearly jumped out of your skin when simon pushed off the wall to move closer, walking up to you before kneeling before you. your heart leapt in your chest as you finally met his gaze, the realisation that his mask was a human skull, making you whimper again. his head tilted as he just looked at you for a minute, your brows furrowed and chin quivering at the terrifying man knelt in front of you.

eventually, he smacked his lips together, exchanging a quick glance at price before returning his focus back to you, “you’re ours now, lovie, and we’ve been waiting a very long time for you.”

[reidmania]

slow it down | s.reid

summary; when life feels like its moving too fast and you feel like you're falling behind, spencer is there to slow it down.

warnings; i kind of feel like this is occ.. fem reader, established relationships, feeling like your falling behind in life, overwhelmed, insecurity, comforting wise spencer, i lowkey feel like this is kinda cringe but IDK.. self reflection

an; um.. so i am so sorry for neglecting you guys lately.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, fingers tracing over a stack of old photos from years that somehow feel closer and farther away than they should. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room, but you can’t seem to feel it. It’s like you’re living in fast-forward, like everyone around you has figured out the secret to living, and you’re just scrambling to catch up. There’s a constant hum in the back of your mind, a quiet sense of urgency that keeps telling you, You’re falling behind.

And then there’s Spencer. Reliable, steady, intelligent Spencer, with his endless curiosity and his warm, steady gaze. Sometimes, you think he sees the world at a slower pace. He notices the way the trees change color in the fall, the way the clouds drift lazily across the sky, the way your breathing hitches when you’re overwhelmed. You’re not sure how he does it — how he lives in a world where time is patient, gentle even.

“Hey,” his voice breaks the quiet as he steps into the room, soft but firm, pulling you back to reality. “I noticed you didn’t sleep much last night.”

You give a small shrug, brushing the hair out of your face. “Just… thinking. That’s all.”

He sits beside you, close but not overwhelming, his presence grounding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You’re not sure where to begin. There’s so much tangled up inside — the worry about where you’re going, the guilt of not doing enough, the fear that everyone else is moving forward while you’re stuck in place. It’s all too big, too heavy, and it clings to you like a second skin.

“Sometimes,” you say, staring down at your hands, “it feels like I’m watching everyone else live their lives at this… impossible speed. Like they’re running ahead, and I’m trying so hard to keep up, but I just… can’t.”

He watches you with that familiar look of quiet understanding, as though he’s absorbing every word. “I know it feels like that. But you’re doing more than you think, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Life isn’t a race, no matter what it seems like.”

You smile a little, but it’s strained. “Easy for you to say. You’re Dr. Spencer Reid. You’ve got three Ph.D’s.” It was unfair, you knew life wasn’t easy on him. He didn’t mind, he didn’t take offence at your insecurity.

His laugh is soft, a bit self-conscious. “It’s not always about how much you’ve done, you know. It’s about… what’s meaningful to you. And the world can feel fast because it’s busy and loud, but that doesn’t mean it’s moving faster than you can handle.”

You let his words sink in, wanting to believe them. He’s always been so good at that — seeing things in a way you can’t, finding meaning in moments you’d overlook. You think back to all those quiet mornings with him, sipping coffee while he reads, or the way he’ll point out little details in the most ordinary things. He lives with intention, like every second holds something worth noticing. “Teach me how to do that,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “How to… slow down, like you do.”

He shifts a little closer, his arm draping over your shoulders. “We can start now, if you’d like.”

“Here?” you ask, a little surprised.

“Why not?” He gives a small shrug, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your shoulder. “The world outside can wait a little. Right now, it’s just us.”

So, you close your eyes, focusing on the warmth of his hand, the even rhythm of his breathing beside you. He begins to talk, softly, almost to himself, about the small things that make up the moment — the softness of the sheets, the faint sound of birds outside, the warmth of the sunlight coming through the window. It’s strange, hearing him describe the world like this, like a piece of poetry instead of a rush of responsibilities. And slowly, something shifts within you. You’re not sure if it’s because of his voice or his hand on your shoulder, but the weight on your chest starts to ease.

“Sometimes,” he says, “I think we get caught up in thinking life has to be monumental, or it has to mean something big. But there’s value in the small moments too, even the ones where you feel like nothing is happening.”

You open your eyes and look at him. His gaze is soft, steady, like he’s known this all along but has been waiting for you to see it too. “You really believe that?”

“More than anything,” he nods, his hand slipping down to intertwine with yours. “And maybe if we slow down, even just a little, we can find that there’s more here than we thought.”

He suggests you both go for a walk. At first, you resist — it feels like there’s no time for that. But then you see the gentle insistence in his eyes, and you let yourself give in. Outside, the air is crisp, and the leaves are beginning to change, painting the trees in vibrant shades of red and gold. You wouldn’t have noticed it on your own, but Spencer points it out, marveling at the colors like it’s the first time he’s seen them.

The path winds through a quiet park, and he takes his time pointing out things you’d usually ignore: the sound of a squirrel rustling in the bushes, the faint smell of pine, the way the sunlight filters through the branches. You begin to feel your mind quiet, your worries slipping away as you take in each small moment.

“See?” he says, smiling as he catches you watching a butterfly flutter past. “The world doesn’t have to be rushing by. We just have to choose not to rush with it.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel yourself relax. You’re not falling behind. You’re not racing to catch up. You’re just here, in this moment, with Spencer beside you, and that’s enough.

After the walk, you both settle into a quiet cafe nearby. There’s no agenda, no rush, just the simple joy of being together. You sip your coffee slowly, tasting it in a way you usually don’t, letting each sip warm you from the inside. Across the table, Spencer is reading a book, but every now and then, he glances up, meeting your eyes with a quiet smile. It feels easy, natural, as though the world outside the cafe doesn’t even exist.

The afternoon stretches on, a lazy, unhurried thing, and you find yourself wishing that every day could be like this — free from the pressure to be something, to achieve something. Just… peaceful.

“I think I could get used to this,” you say, looking out the window, watching people stroll by without a care in the world.

“Then let’s make it a habit,” he replies softly, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “Slow days. Just us. Whenever you need it.”

“Really?” you ask, a little surprised. “Even with your job? With everything you have going on?”

He nods, his gaze steady. “Life doesn’t have to be all or nothing. I want to be there for you. To be here, with you. No matter what else is going on.”

For the first time, you feel a sense of calm settle over you, like maybe — just maybe — you don’t have to keep running to be enough. That there’s space in this world for you to slow down, to take things one step at a time. And knowing that Spencer is by your side makes it all feel possible, in a way it never has before.

You lean across the table, resting your head on his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. “Thank you, Spencer. For… reminding me.”

He smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Always. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here, and we’ll figure it out together. One slow day at a time.

As you sit there, nestled against him, you let yourself believe that it’s true — that life doesn’t have to be a race, that you’re allowed to live at your own pace, to notice the small things, to savor each moment as it comes.

For the first time in a long time, you feel yourself slow down, the endless rush in your mind finally quieting. And in that silence, you find something you didn’t even realize you were missing: a sense of peace, of belonging, of knowing that right here, in this moment, you are exactly where you’re meant to be.

[tayraedoll]

My Compliments to the Chef

The smutty and soft finale of the series. MDNI 18+ only

Part 1

Part 2

TW: Smut, P in V intercourse, fingering, oral-female receiving with mentions of male receiving, sensory deprivation, self-consciousness, reader is uncomfortable in her own skin, body scars, body worship, hurt/comfort, fluff

Alastor advanced on you slowly, the famished look never leaving his eyes, he reminded you of a cat that finally cornered the mouse it was hunting. For every one of his steps forward you had to take two back to keep the distance between you even. You eventually ran out of floorspace when the backs of your knees hit his bed, with you effectively trapped the demon was quick to close the distance completely.

He grabbed you by your jaw, holding your face up so he could press his lips to yours again. You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself into him. His free hand wrapped around your waist in a vice grip like he was afraid you'd run away if he let you go. He released your lips with a 'pop' to trail his lips down the your exposed throat, nipping the skin to leave little love marks. When the hand on your waist started to dip under your shirt you violently jumped to the side to put space between you once more.

For a moment Alastor stood stock still, the position making it look like he was holding an invisible person. He blinked a couple of times before straightening up and looking at you quizzically, wondering if he had read you wrong. His head cocked to the side, carefully scrutinizing your body language.

Your heart hammered away in your chest, you bit the inside of your lip as you tried taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Being with Alastor in this way was thrilling, but even the excitement of the moment wasn't enough to quell the insecurities that were screaming at you.

When you finally composed yourself you gave him an apologetic look, "I am so sorry. I-It's just that...", you trailed of as you looked down, trying to find the right words to explain yourself.

Long fingers hooked under your chin again to make you look up at his face, "My Dear, my sincerest apologies if I overstepped-"

"No! No, it's not that. Um.. it's my scars. They don't end at at my arms, they are kind of all over. I...I'm not exactly pretty to look at", your voice trailed off, becoming a whisper at the end. You looked over at the fireplace to avoid his eyes staring down at you as tears welled up in your own.

Alastor let go of you and backed away. You had to suppress a sob; here it was, the rejection you were so terrified of.

The rustle of fabric caught your attention, Alastor was laying his coat across the his bed; he then stared right at you as he pulled at his bow tie and threw it on top of his jacket. Nimble fingers slowly started to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Al...what are you doing?", you asked completely bewildered. Part of you wanted to look away- the intense look in his eyes, how his chest fluff slowly came into view in such a sensual manner- it was almost too much, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him.

After releasing the final button of his shirt, Alastor painstakingly slowly pushed it off his shoulders and revealed his bare torso to you. You gasped, a hand flying up to your mouth as you took the sight of him in. His black arms and tawny body were littered in scars; unlike yours, his scars disfigured the skin where it ripped apart and sewn itself back together. One long gash made its way from his right hip to left shoulder- the wound Adam gave him in the battle at the hotel. Your feet carried you over to him before you were conscious of the movement, hand raised in front of you as it hovered above his chest seeking permission to touch.

His hand grasped yours before you could make contact, vulnerability flashed briefly across his face before it hardened into a more determined expression. He slowly brought your hand to the space where his heart was enclosed in his sternum, resting your palm on the mended skin of the axe wound. "We all have our insecurities Dear, not a single one of us is immune to the judgements our minds cast upon us." His eyes stared intently into yours, watching as tears formed and slowly fell down your cheeks. This wound must have been excruciating; it looked so large and deep, it was a miracle he survived it.

You finally ripped your eyes from the scar to look back up at him, his expression was a mixture of uncertainty, desperation, and primal hunger. A new determination settled in your mind, your dried your tears with your hand that was not touching him and stepped fully into his space leaving just an inch between you two. Your fingers ghosted over his skin, feather-light caresses applied to each of the scars you could see. Some were raised and rough to the touch, while others were smooth and shiny; the muscles underneath would twitch with each new blemish you stroked.

One finger remained on his body as you lazily walked around him to his back. You were met with the same myriad of cicatrices forming constellations across his dorsum. You felt braver without his eyes being able to stare you down from here, after each stroke of your finger you planted a chaste kiss to the marking.

You heard the gasp he made the first time you pressed your lips to his body, a small smile gracing your face at being able to elicit such a response from The Radio Demon with your gentle affections. After revering every scar across his being you finally came back to face him, your heart skipping a beat when he immediately close his arms around you and pulling you into a needy kiss.

Alastor's fingers grabbed your hips and he slowly spun you around so your back was to him. Opening your eyes, you were met with a mirror that had magically appeared out of nowhere. You met Alastor's eyes in the reflection as he leaned in to whisper in your ear "Allow me to show you just how transcendent you truly are."

He snapped his fingers, but your vision didn't go black as you expected it would. Instead, you were ushered into a world of total silence. Your wide eyes locked onto crimson orbs as his red claws slowly lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes never left yours even as he unclasped your bra. You struggled to resist the urge to cover your breasts, swallowing hard as every imperfection was revealed to the mirror.

His hand collected yours and raised it to his lips, tender kisses were pressed to your knuckles before he flipped your hand over to gently nip at the pulse point of your wrist. A gasp ripped out of your throat at the sensation, your eyes flying shut. His lips stilled completely, all sensation coming to an abrupt halt. You peaked an eye open, Alastor was watching you with a patient yet disapproving gaze. Once your eyes met his he slid his lips up your forearm, nipping and kissing along the borders of your reddened skin. Anytime you averted your gaze from his ministrations he would completely stop until your eyes found his again.

When he finished pecking and nipping your arm he moved across your shoulders, meeting your neck where he used his cheek to push your head to the side to grant him access. By now heat was pooling in your belly; your thighs rubbed together as subtly as you could as your abdomen clenched with every graze of his teeth on your skin. By the time he reached your other wrist you were certain your panties were ruined.

Looking in the mirror now you could barely recognize yourself; your lips parted in an "O" as soft whimpers and pants left your throat, eyes glazed over and half-lidded. You had never seen yourself look so fucked out and he hadn't even touched you in a sexual way yet.

His fingers ran down your ribs and across your abdomen, meeting right below your navel to unbutton your jeans. He pulled both your pants and panties down your legs slowly until you could step out of them. Your cheeks heated up as you stood naked in front of the mirror, the predatory eyes of the demon behind you raked over your form greedily.

One of his hands came around you again, a curious finger dipping into your folds. Your body jolted, back arching and hips pushing into his touch. You let out a mewl you could not hear as your head flew back and hit the demon's chest, your eyes closing on instinct. Just like before, Alastor's movements stilled as soon as your eyes left the mirror.

His other hand crept up the back of your head, tangling into your hair and forcing your head back up but you kept your eyes closed. Displeased, Alastor leaned forward and bit your ear just hard enough for it to sting. It elicited his desired affect as your eyes flew open once again. He subtly shook his head at you as his hand tightened in your hair- you would not be turning away from the mirror again. Just as you resigned to your fate the claw in your folds reminded you of its presence as it circled around your clit.

You bit your lip, using all your willpower to keep your attention on yourself in the mirror. The claw circled your bundle of nerves faster and faster, your wines silent to your own ears as your hips started to buck into his hand. Your eyes were now glued to the way his dexterous digits played with your nub.

A finger slipped inside of you quickly followed by a second, his thumb still applying delicious pressure to your clit. His pace picked up, fingers curling inside you to hit that spongy spot that nearly had your knees buckling under you. In the mirror you could see that your face was flushed, beads of sweat broke out across your forehead, your chest heaved with every breath. Your vision went white as you clamped down on his fingers, lips parted in a scream as Alastor watched you unravel at his hands.

A low chuckle alerted you that your hearing had been restored. When your vision re-focused the mirror was gone and you were laying in bed with Alastor hovering over you. You took the chance to allow your eyes to roam over his body- lean muscle, chiseled abdomen, a deep v-line at his hips, and a fucking monster of a cock ready to impale you. Your eyes blew wide open as he lowered himself down on you to leave love nips down the column of your throat; his member sliding through your folds and collecting your slick.

"Al-Alastor," your body trembled, "I haven't slept with anyone since I died and there is no way I will fit all of you inside me!"

"Hmm," Alastor hummed completely unconcerned, "you can, and you will My Dear." His arms reached down and hooked your knees with the crook his of elbows, effectively spreading you wide open for him and leaving no way for you to push him away from your core as he slowly sunk into you inch by inch.

You choked as the intrusion stole the air from your lungs, your nails digging into his shoulders as you instinctively tried to push him back to no avail. It stung slightly as your walls struggled to accommodate him, the full feeling overwhelming at first. He stilled once he was buried to the hilt, giving you time to get accustomed to the sensation. Your breath came in short gasps as your legs shook vigourously in his hold; it felt like he was buried in your guts, his tip pushed flush against your cervix. "Relax Mon Cher, I won't push you beyond what you can take," he peppered chaste kisses across your cheekbones as your breathing evened out, the full feeling becoming more pleasant than intrusive.

Once your walls relaxed around him the buck started to slowly rock his hips in shallow thrusts. Pain quickly gave way to pleasure and a lewd moan fell from your lips as your walls fluttered, his pelvis grinding into your nub perfectly with each thrust.

"That's it Dear, such a good girl- taking me so well. See? I knew you were an expert at handling meat", Alastor growled at you, biting down on your neck just below your ear. You whimpered, his cock catching your entrance with every thrust forward and bullying that spongy spot. His arms lifted your legs higher towards your chest, you couldn't be spread open any further. Your Overlord lover licked the bruise he gave you, it would be impossible for you to hide without a scarf.

The coil in your core tightened, your legs quivering uncontrollably as your toes curled. Your nails raked down his back desperate to ground yourself amongst the pleasure; you idly wondered if you could leave scars of your own along his spine.

His pace turned absolutely bruising as he chased your collective releases. "Tu es parfait, si délicieux, mon petit chef."

His cockhead rammed into your cervix like he was trying to bust through it. A scream of intense pleasure ripped out your throat as the coil finally snapped, sending a flood of arousal out of your cunt. Alastor watched your face contort with your orgasm and committed the stunning sight to his memory. His own release surged into your fluttering cunt with a groan, his forehead falling onto yours, your breaths mixing together as you both basked in post-coital bliss.

"La mesure de l'amour, c'est d'aimer sans mesure", he whispered before giving you one more deep and sensual kiss.

"You know I don't speak French right? I have no idea what you've been saying", you giggled when he pulled away.

"Hmm, I will teach you some day My Dear. For now, let's just enjoy this moment shall we?", he rolled over and draped you across his chest. You snuggled into his chest fluff, inhaling the smell of sex and Alastor's musky scent as you drifted off. Right before you fell into unconsciousness you heard "Je t'aime".

You smiled- you knew that one, "I love you too."

Alastor awakened with a start-something was wrong. He reached out for you only for the space you had occupied to be vacant and cold. He shot up, looking around the room but saw no sign of you. The clock on the wall read 4:30 AM, Alastor got out of bed to search for you- had you gone back to your own room? If so, why?

He snapped his fingers to quickly dress himself, only for his chest to remain bare. His shirt was not with his other clothes...your clothes were still littered across his floor however. Alastor hummed at this clue, he'd either find you in his shirt or you'd be roaming the hotel naked.

He felt secure enough to shadow travel without covering his upper body, it was so early in the morning no one would be roaming the halls at this time except the two of you. He checked your room first but quickly moved on when he found no sign you'd been there for hours- probably since you woke up the previous morning.

The next most obvious room to investigate was the kitchen. The demon cursed himself for not preparing his room for your activities, surely you woke up thirsty and had to trudge all the way to the kitchen for water if you didn't wake him up. He would correct that egregious oversight on his part promptly.

The demon stopped dead in his tracks as he manifested at the kitchen door. The radio was playing a modern "pop" song he was unfamiliar with and your sweet voice was singing along to it. Slowly, he approached the kitchen and leaned a shoulder against the door frame as he took in the scene before him.

You were practically dancing around the kitchen in nothing but his shirt (which comically came down to your knees), singing your heart out to a song about two lovers whose passion burned so intensely it was like fire on fire. You flitted between the hot stove and the various spices on the counter, so absorbed in your task you hadn't noticed the 7-foot-tall deer demon in the doorway.

Alastor watched you with a soft smile on his face, his heart swelling in his chest. He recognized the spices you had out- all the staples of a traditional cajun seasoning. When you added them to your dish he noticed that you never measured any of them, letting your sense of smell guide the spice profile of the food. A bottle of his favorite bourbon also sat on the counter, no doubt if he checked the hotel bar he'd find that Husk was missing that bottle of whiskey.

You mixed the alcohol into a pan, causing a small flame to rise that you expertly handled while spinning the bottle in your free hand like he would his cane. Alastor chuckled at your theatrics, you hadn't noticed him yet so he knew you were showing off for yourself. Soon enough, the mouth-watering aroma of cayenne, garlic, and pork wafted into the air. The Overlord's heart soared when you brought the dish together- cajun pork chops with a bourbon glaze and a vegetable medley of brussel sprouts, zucchini, and peppers. He was approaching you before was aware he was moving.

You startled at his sudden appearance, hand clutching the buttons at your chest, "Sweet Satan Al, please give me some kind of warning before you just waltz on in like that!"

"Apologies My Dear, I did not mean to scare you. However, I am curious, what brings you to the kitchen at this hour?", he stood just inches from you, heart about to beat out of his chest if his suspicions proved to be correct.

"Well-uhh," your face turned beet red and you looked down at the food bashfully, "I guess I was just feeling inspired and couldn't get this creation out of my head. So I needed to find out if I could pull it off."

"The pork chops, that's your signature dish is it not?"

You nodded your head, shyly looking back up at him, "I added a twist to it though."

He reached a hand out to cup your cheek, moving so his chest pressed to yours, "You changed your signature dish...for me? You fused our cooking together." It was not a question, the declaration sat there on a plate in front of him.

"Yes", your answering whisper was just barely audible but it was all the confirmation he needed. You squealed when his hands hooked around your thighs and sat you down on the countertop, his shirt riding up your thighs. He immediately pressed his lips to yours and demanded entry into your mouth with his tongue.

After several minutes of making out like lovesick teenagers, Alastor pulled away to inspect the plate, "It would be a shame to let this all go to waste."

He ran a claw through the glaze, but instead of bringing it to his mouth as you expected he painted it over your neck. Before you had the chance to object to having the sticky sauce on your skin he licked a wide stripe up your throat, cleaning it of all the dressing. He had to admit you did a phenomenal job of balancing the bitter bourbon with sweet brown sugar...and it complimented the taste of your skin incredibly well.

You moaned as you threw your head back, elongating your throat for him. His hands gripped onto each side of your (his) shirt and tore it apart sending buttons flying in every direction. "Alastor! Someone can come in and catch us!", you shrieked as you scrambled to cover yourself again.

Alastor was having none of it and promptly caught your wrists and pinned them against the cabinets above you. "Poppycock Darling, no one will be awake for hours yet. Now, lets enjoy this meal you so artfully crafted shall we?"

He used the glaze to paint more trails across your body- starting at your throat and going down through the valley between your breasts, down your navel, and multiple strokes on your inner thighs. "My, my Mon Cher. You are the most delectable meal I have ever laid eyes on. Care if I have a little nibble?" He didn't wait for your answer as he dove down, licking up every drop of sauce and leaving bites along the way. You bit down on your hand to stop from screaming out a moan when he bit down on your breast just hard enough to leave teeth marks.

He pushed your thighs apart to make room for himself as he settled on his knees before you. His tongue ran up each thigh as slowly as he could restrain himself to. "Your glaze was perfect my dear, but I am looking forward to tasting a different coulis from you."

He pressed the flat of his tongue to your thigh and licked all the way up to your core. The second his tongue made contact with your folds you jolted, crying out in sheer ecstasy as your legs clamped shut on his head. He tutted at you disapprovingly and summoned his shadows to hold your knees as far apart as they'd go. Satisfied with your position, he dove back in, leaving kitten licks on your clit before sucking on it harshly.

You fought to hold in a high-pitched keen, fisting one hand in his hair and using the other to hold one the top cabinets for balance. Alastor’s hands locked around your hips in a bruising grip and slid you forward so your ass was just barely on the counter anymore, the only reason you were still precariously perched there was his tight hold and his shadows holding your legs.

Alastor let go of your clit to plunge his tongue deep into your drenched hole. One hand let go of your hip to begin making tight circles around your nub as his tongue searched for that special spot that made your vision spotty. His efforts were rewarded when your body convulsed, back arching and pushing your pelvis into his face when he found it.

He didn't let up for a second, he doubled-down on his efforts- tongue bullying your spongy walls repeatedly while his thumb pressed harder and harder circles to your clit. The pressure built up quickly, tears forming in your eyes as you struggled to hold back your moans as to not wake anyone. You bit your bottom lip a little too harshly, a droplet of blood trailing down your chin.

The sight made Alastor go feral, with a guttural growl he removed his tongue from you pushed three fingers inside to take it's place, instantly setting a brutal pace. His mouth turned back to your pearl, sucking it harshly and using his upper fangs to pinch it ever so lightly.

The pleasure, the pain, the sheer ferocity sent you catapulting over the edge; you couldn't help but to let out a blood-curdling scream that a shadow quickly muffled by clamping over your mouth. Your walls squeezed his fingers like a vice, trapping him within you while his tongue soothed your bundle of nerves and helped you ride out your orgasm.

Once your body released his fingers, he brought his thumb up to capture the blood on your jaw. Keeping his eyes on yours, he made a lewd show of licking his fingers clean of your slick and blood.

"My compliments to the chef My Dear!", he chuckled to himself as you caught your breath. He gingerly set you back down on the floor, allowing you to use him for balance as your legs wobbled.

You took a look at the plate, only the glaze eaten,"Well, since you said this shouldn't go to waste I suppose I will finish it." You picked up the plate and a fork, wrapped Alastor's shirt back around yourself, and began trekking towards the staircase.

"And where do you think you are going Mon Cher?"

"Back to your room. I heard you call me an expert meat handler yesterday, figured I should show you just how well I can truly handle my meat", you made a show of pushing your fork into your mouth suggestively, giving him a wink before turning on your heal and taking off.

Alastor stood there dumbfounded for just a second before a smug smirk split his face. With a snap he melted into the shadows to chase after you; a paper fluttering to the countertop to let Charlie know that both chefs would be preoccupied for the day. All he planned to devour this day was you.

Thanks for reading! This was such as fun piece to write, I hope you enjoyed it!

Here is the song that reader was singing as she was cooking:

Tags:

@voxslays

@ladyadrasteia666

@angeldustharmony

@milkissesx

@shealizxx

@sh3sa1dwhat

@littlebluefishtail

@ustulia

@christinebloodwrittings

@alastorsgirl48

@shea4u

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 18

Title: Cheat Day

Pairing: Personal Trainer! Bucky x Curvy!female reader

Tags/warnings: SMUT, semi-public sex, shower sex (slippery), self-consciousness, mentions of cellulite/stretch marks, a smidge of fluff bc I can't resist, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it!!), pet names (doll, baby), praise

Summary: You are a newbie to a gym and one of the regulars takes a liking to you and offers to help you on your gym journey. However, you notice that he's a lot more hands on than other trainers at the gym

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: maybe it should more aptly be gym buddy Bucky but alas... I had plans - I promise!! I might have to get my big fics out tomorrow rip me

Prev | Next | Masterlist

Warm Up

You hate, hate, hate HATE working out.

You hate the gym. You hate the way you look like a lost puppy and don't know which machine to use. You hate that you get so out of breath on a tread mill. You hate how your arms wobble when you lift weights.

And you hate that damn Stairmaster.

The only thing you love is perhaps how your deliciously thick thighs can support the heavy weights on the legs press like it's nothing. That would probably be it.

You take one of the last treadmills available, setting your bottle and towel down before fiddling with your earbuds. You're not really paying attention to the guy next to you; you're too focused on trying to get through your warm up.

You start at a walk. You're hair swishing as you lift it to your crown to tie with a hairband. The guy beside you picks up his pace and your eyes flicker over to him. And oh God. What a guy. He's tall and muscular, clearly a regular unlike yourself who makes every excuse under the sun to avoid the gym, with a mop of dark hair that's bouncing to his movements. He's barely sweating at a pace that would have you panting.

You don't realise you've been staring until he smiles at you, sticking his tongue out playfully, before going back to running.

You are red faced and almost trip over your feet. You need to focus. You turn your music up and eventually break into a light jog. After thirty minutes your gym buddy wipes down the machine and disappears to another section of the gym, flashing you a smirk and a wave has you watch him go.

His T-shirt has the logo of the gym of its back and for a split second you're wondering if you should book a session, before scolding your horny brain.

Workout. Focus on working out.

Arms

The next time you come to the gym, it's dark out. You'd spent the day in work and although you just wanted to go home and eat dinner, maybe have a glass (or three) of wine, you had made a promise to yourself to go and now you were here.

It was so much more peaceful at night. The blaring music was off and there was hardly anyone about. Suddenly, you loved your idea of coming here. You had little reason to be self-conscious with so few people around.

Today was arms and you were busy trying to hype yourself up using the bench press. Arms were the worst, just after cardio and you dreaded having to do this. Suddenly the thought of three glasses of wine didn't seem so bad.

Adjusting the weights either side of the bar, you slip under it, getting comfortable against the hard leather seat. You reach up and grasp the bar, straightening your arms and pushing the bar out of it's rest. Your arms wobble slightly, your arms bracing against the weight and you hadn't even managed one rep. Perhaps you'd done the weight wrong.

"Whoa doll!" A voice calls out and you strain your neck trying to look for the approaching footsteps. It's the guy from the other day. "You're gonna hurt yourself doing it like that."

"I - Uh-" you grip the handles, unsure if he wants you to let go or not, but you're palms are starting to sweat. "Okay."

He grins down at you, placing large, rough hands over yours and gently lifting the handles back to stationery position.

"Thanks." You sigh, rubbing your sweaty palms on your workout leggings. You glance up at him again, only to find you're eye level with his crotch and go beet red.

Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts.

The guy doesn't seem to notice. "I'm Bucky. I'm one of the trainers here."

"Y/N." You try and offer a smile but you're too focused on not thinking that his crotch his just right there.

"I've seen you round here once or twice before, um..." Bucky rakes a hand through his long hair. "You're new right? Have you thought about getting a personal trainer?"

You recalled almost tripping in front of him a week or so ago and flush red. Was it that obvious you weren't a regular? Unhelpful, mean thoughts fluttered through your head and you fought to push them away.

"That obvious, huh?" You smile sheepishly, finally sitting up on the bench.

"Very obvious." Bucky nods, still smiling at you. "You hadn't put the locks on the plates, they could have slipped and injured that pretty face."

Your eyes widen; you hadn't noticed the locks and were grateful Bucky was there to save you from injury... even if he was being a flirt about it.

Even if it made your heart flutter.

"Well, thankfully I have a hero to step in." You tell him playfully. "And about the personal trainer... to be quite honest, I don't think I could afford one right now."

You give him an apologetic shrug but he only smirks in response. "Good thing I'll help you for free. Consider it a free trial."

You eyebrows shoot up. Having someone around to motivate you and show you the ropes would be ideal, and especially if it was someone as handsome as Bucky, it may motivate you to come to the gym more often.

"Only if you're sure." You say cautiously, eyeing him. "I don't want you to lose out on work because you're helping me."

Bucky shrugs. "Hey, helping you is more important. I can just text you what days and times I'll be at the gym - if you're here the same time, then we can do some sets together."

You can't say no to that. His eyes brighten when you agree and exchange numbers before he runs you through how to correctly use the bench press, encouraging you and praising you even though you're red faced and drenched in sweat by the end of your set. But you feel fantastic.

If this was how your sessions with Bucky would be, maybe you'd have to consider saving up for more sessions.

Legs

Whichever the Bucky you saw the night he convinced you to take some sessions with him, didn't exist after that night.

The next few sessions with Bucky he'd been nothing but a hard ass, making your brows furrow with displeasure each time he taunted you. It spurred you to complete reps sure, but that wasn't the point. Quite frankly, you missed him being a little bit nicer and you missed the praise that came with it.

"It's false advertising," You huff mid-squat, shooting Bucky a glare. The more time you'd spent with him, the more confident you'd become at back talking him (even though you'd still complete all your reps). "If I'd have known you were going to be a drill sergeant, I wouldn't have agreed to this."

Bucky chuckles, eyeing your form as he stands with his big arms folded, sipping his water bottle. "And yet you finish every rep like a good little soldier." He teases back.

You scoff in response but your cheeks still grow warm. "Whatever."

After squats it was the leg curl machine. You're on your front, your quads under the foam cushions of the machines trying to push the bar against the curve of your ass but it's too heavy. Bucky is stood, as always, with folded arms watching you intently.

"Bucky, it's too heavy." You huff, letting your legs relax. "I need to put the weight down."

"No, you're doing it wrong." He chuckles. "May I?" He approaches, hands splayed.

You shrug, looking over at him with your chin in your palms. "Be my guest."

You still jump when you feel his strong hands on your thighs, moving them slightly wider. Your heart leaps into your throat and you could swear his fingers linger. His fingers are hot even through your gym wear and you're suddenly bashful when your head is filled with thoughts of another type of exercise you could be doing with Bucky. Again.

His hands trail to your knees slowly, bending them a little more before giving your calves a playful squeeze.

"Try now." He says quietly and you obey. The curl is a lot easier now, and the bar smacks your ass making it wobble.

"Oh, wow, OK." You chuckle bashfully. "Yeah OK you were right."

You catch Bucky smirking triumphantly but his eyes aren't on you; they're shamelessly glued to your legs and ass, watching you perform your reps.

Heat pools to your core and you quickly glance away. You have to be imagining it.

You have to.

Cardio

It had been about two weeks since you last saw Bucky and since you last visited the gym. You'd had a cold and then were so busy at work you couldn't find the time to drop by. You'd dropped Bucky a text to say you'd be out of commission but never explained why - and he'd not asked.

Sighing, you dumped your towel and water bottle next to the treadmill and began to walk. You'd come to the gym tonight for an escape. You hadn't wanted to text Bucky just in case he'd already be asleep but you itched to reach out.

The gym was a ghost town. Only the whirr of your treadmill echoed around the open space. You tried not to think about how you wished you'd bumped into Bucky or remember how he'd looked at you.

Maybe he's like that with all newbies...

That thought made your chest twist uncomfortably. You picked up your earbuds and shoved them in your ears, picking up your pace to a light jog.

So much for easing yourself back into it.

After an hour, you decide to call it quits.

It's 11pm and you just want to be back in your bed, hidden under the covers, away from the world.

You're on your way to the showers when you bump into a familiar face emerging from the men's changing room.

"Y/N?" Bucky

"Hey." You pause as he approaches, taking in the sight of his large biceps under the rolled up sleeves of his tee. "How've you been?

"Good. Long time no see. I thought I lost you."

You can't help yourself from smiling. "Oh no, can't keep me away from this place." You say sarcastically, making Bucky grin over at you.

"Really? Even miss me?" He teases softly.

"I don't miss you being a hard ass, if that's what you mean." You quip and Bucky scoffs. "But I have missed you."

Both of your gazes meet and the tension you'd been feeling over the last few weeks increases a hundred fold.

"So..." Bucky says slowly, barely breathing as he looks at you, not knowing which path to tread. "What are we doing tonight?"

"I've just finished," you say a little disheartened. "I was about to hit the shower."

"Can I join you?"

You both stare at one another. Bucky’s brain was expecting you to say your plan for your next set... not that you were going to shower. Mortified, redness bolts to his cheeks as he attempts to back track.

"I - I mean," he shutters and then coughs awkwardly. Your face is equally red but your eyes glimmer with want. "I thought - Uh- you were going to-"

"Sure," you say thickly.

Bucky's brain short circuits again and you give him that bashful smile that makes his heart stammer.

The women's showers are empty and after two minutes Bucky sneaks in behind you. As soon as the door closes, his strong arms pull you towards him, cupping your face before putting his lips on yours.

"Missed you too," he huffs, pulling his shirt off as you both fumble blindly for a shower booth. Bucky tugs at your gym clothes desperately as he kisses you, urging you to undress.

Your mind swims. He missed you too. He's kissing you senseless and you're sure that given the chance he'd rip your clothes from your body.

You peel away your clothes, pausing only to give Bucky more needy kisses in between layers. Bucky follows suit, discarding his sneakers, shorts and boxers into the pile next to your feet.

You feel a wave of self-consciousness as you take in Bucky's body; all muscle, toned and hard and utter perfection. Your eyes drop to your body; soft, squishable, with silvery zebra stripes running over your hips.

You hear Bucky suck in a short breath and you glance up through your eyelashes, smiling a little nervously. His blue eyes are transfixed on you as he closes the space between you. His fingers twitch as he reaches for you, desperate to feel your skin under his hands, but not knowing where he wants to touch first.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his hands ghosting over your hips, drawing you flush against him. His hands tighten their grip on your hips and you you gasp softly, feeling the hard heat of his cock brush against your thighs. One hand cups your face again, and Bucky’s head dips to kiss you slowly. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip and you open your mouth wider, letting Bucky kiss you with far more passion and severance than you'd anticipated.

You're lost in the kiss for what seems like an age; your fingers running through his hair as his hands explore your body, tracing each and every curve, groping at your breasts, hips and ass. You moan into his mouth, mimicking his actions, running your hands over his pecks and down his abs to his cock against your thigh. Bucky pants a curse as you pump him a few times, nipping along his jaw.

"Bucky," You whisper. "The shower."

"Right," he huffs. He pulls the shower door open and gestures for you to step inside first, following closely behind and pressing the on switch.

You gasp when cold water hits your back and Bucky chuckles, arms encircling your waist and moving in to latch onto your neck under the spray of now luke-warm water. Your arms attach themselves around his neck, half-hoisted as you spread your legs to allow Bucky to slot between them. You bite back a loud gasp when Bucky's hand slides between your legs, running along your slit finding your sweet bundle of nerves and drawing quick, tight circles.

"Bucky," you whimper into his neck, your your breathing hitching and hitching like the tightness in your core; rushing upward so fast you feel lightheaded.

"Cum for me doll, be a good girl and cum for me," Bucky sucks at your neck, groping at your tits with his free hand. You lean your head against the shower wall as you feel pussy clenches around nothing. Your fingers grip at Bucky's wet hair, gasping his name as you hang at the precipice of your orgasm. Without warning, Bucky plunges two fingers into your sopping hole, curling them inside you. Your orgasm crashes over you and you cum over his fingers with a wracked half sob.

Bucky's fingers are withdrawn as quickly as they're inserted, leaving you hollow and looking at Bucky pleadingly. He grins at you pecking your lips with a hasty kiss.

"'M sorry, doll. I promise to take my time next time but I need you so bad."

He lifts you with ease, pushing your back against the cool wall, wrapping his arms under your thighs and spreading them open. Wisps of steam rise from behind him as your eyes lock, his cock brushing against your slick folds only once before he slowly lowers you down onto him.

"Oh - oh - oh!" You moan as he breaches inch by inch, each time your walls contract around him, adjusting to his size. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your thighs shake with pleasure and you're utterly at his mercy as he starts to fuck up into you.

"That's it, baby." Bucky praises, littering your face with kisses. "You feel amazing on my cock."

You moan his name and kiss his lips hungrily, pulling yourself closer to him as he brings you to ruin again. Your pussy's grip is like a vice, milking him as you press yourself flush against him glassy eyes meeting his and Bucky can't take it any longer.

Bucky pants curses rutting into you before pulling out entirely and cumming over your stomach and thighs with a short groan. His cock continues to twitch, his cum slowly being washed away by the water save for the white, thick line that connects to your thigh. Bucky slowly lowers you to your feet and you lean against him for support, relaxing in the post-orgasm bliss and the heat of the water.

"I've wanted to do that since the moment I laid on you," he confesses, tilting your head up to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

"So have I," You admit with a soft chuckle. "Kinda wish we could have done that instead of you making me do squats."

"But you're ass looked good." Bucky teases, chuckling when you glare at him.

"So you were checking me out!" You smack at his bicep playfully and that earns you one of his boyish smiles.

"So? Besides, more importantly," His hands grasp your hips tightly, forcing you to be still. "Today's a cheat day and I wanna take you out."

"Take me out? At 11pm? What's even open?" You smile up at him and he only shrugs.

"Okay, fine, twist my arm. Breakfast it is." He kisses you again, this time lingering a moment before smirking deviously at you. "But first let's get you cleaned up."

[cherimoyatea]

hello hi! ik the fandom mostly favors interactions between LIs & MCs/Readers but i was wondering if you have your own ideas between the LADS boys like friendship headcanons between them? how their dynamic works and which would be the best bros with each other or strongest siblings rivalry vibes between them (⁠ ⁠╹���▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

hopefully this is alright to request! 🙏🏻

Hi Annonie!

Thank you for your request! I saw the wonderful @irandial already sharing her thoughts on the same request, and I couldn't agree more with her on the boys! But since you asked I'll also drop some headcanons 🤭

I've always imagined what their life would be like if they happened to share a house and how their dynamics would play out, so I'll set the scenario based on your request.

Remember, these are headcanons and just for fun 🩷

❧ The LaDs Men as Friends - Shared house edition

He's the loudest—always getting on everyone's nerves with his antics and pouty demands. Rafayel will block the bathroom for hours with his extensive baths and beauty routines: Since he's basically a fish on land, he's super cautious about keeping his skin hydrated.

Imagine him opening the bathroom door in a bathrobe, with a face mask on and a bowknot keeping his purple bangs off his forehead, as he yells at the other guys: ''I'm gonna burn y'all in your sleep if ya don't stop knocking on the damn door!!'' Then he slams the door shut, locks it again, and puts his Airpods on full blast, while the others continue to desperately hammer against the bathroom door, needing to use the toilet.

Rafayel pretends to be annoyed by everyone in his household and murmurs''These silly humans...'' while also using his evol and wielding his dagger to protect his friends without hesitation whenever they run into trouble. Though they get on his nerves sometimes, he wouldn't want it any other way.

Xavier is in a constant catfight with Rafayel for always eating his cheesesticks behind his back. In general, he's the one who constantly empties the fridge and eats everyone's snacks and food. Even Zayne can't help but let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief, when he finds another empty cookie package in the cabinet—for the third time this week. And its only Tuesday.

Whenever Xavier isn't busy snacking, his friends usually find him either reading a book or napping in the most unusual places around the house, giving them daily heart attacks. Once, Sylus almost spilled his drink when he tripped over Xavier's sleeping form, curled up on the soft, fluffy carpet in the dimly lit hallway. ''Uhh... I'm not quite sure how I ended up sleeping on the floor... it just looked so comfy here and the stairs to the bedroom seemed like too much effort…'' He rubs his neck sheepishly and gets up with a yawn, while Sylus taps his foot impatiently, shaking his head at the silver-blond.

Definitely the ''mom'' of the friend group. He takes care of everyone's well-being while occasionally cracking one of his dry jokes, causing an awkward silence in the room. Surprisingly, nobody feels called out when he scolds his friends for eating too much junk food or staying up too late. ''Rafayel, where are your slippers? The floor is cold—at least wear some socks.'' And the Lemurian? He rolls his eyes and mumbles something under his breath but eventually gets up to grab some socks from his room.

Zayne always has an open ear for his friends. Whenever someone needs to get something off their chest, they approach the Doctor, and he genuinely tries to comfort them. ''Xavier… I don't think Sylus hates you for accidentally poisoning him with your tiramisu. However. Make sure to remember that dishes with raw eggs need to be refrigerated…''

He's the one who would probably get along with everyone, giving off protective big-brother vibes. He mostly watches his friends quietly from the background with an amused smirk, shaking his head at Rafayel causing a scene over someone spilling his paint, Xavier serving a suspicious-looking tiramisu, or Zayne gathering the others laundry from the floor with a frown. ''Doc, are you sure you want to touch that? I remember seeing the fish doing... unholy things with those socks.'' Sylus says with a mischievous grin, earning a dead stare from Rafayel. ''Hold up! I did WHAT?!''

He just loves teasing these idiots.

But Sylus is also the life of the party and always up for a night out with his friends. The guys had a blast at the karaoke bar once when Sylus was drunk enough to wholeheartedly sing Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball. Of course, Rafayel recorded the whole show and teased him the next morning while the silver-haired man had the worst hangover ever. ''Listen, Fish... I'm adding a cat to this household if you don't delete that NOW!''

[honey-tongued-devil]

The Myth of Orpheus (Arcane 2)

I just watched the first three episodes of Arcane 2 and noticed the parallel between Jayce and Orpheus, so I quickly jotted down this analysis.

Would you ever blame Orpheus for loving Eurydice so much that he descended into the Underworld for her?  

Defying death is not only madness; it’s almost blasphemous if one believes in a god that controls it. Yet Orpheus loves like a loyal dog, weeps for his beloved's death, and despairs: they were so close to marriage, but something interfered, a serpent, child of evil, came between him and his love.

And what meaning does his life have if he cannot share it with her? What is the meaning of the ground he treads, if his steps are not close to hers? What is the meaning of breathing, if the air he inhales is not filled with her scent? What is the meaning of that place he calls home, if he cannot share it with her?

In the same way, Jayce realizes Viktor is lying among the rubble, and he doesn’t even have time to fully take in the scene before he finds himself, confused and frightened, running with his companion’s body in his arms, holding him so tightly for fear he might slip away, vanish, no longer belong to him.

Defying death is not only madness; it’s almost blasphemous when one relies on an arcane power that seems to be alive, unpredictable, like a god out of control. Yet Jayce loves like a loyal dog, mourns Viktor before he’s even dead, and despairs: they were so close to realizing their dream, but something interfered, a serpent, daughter of evil, came between him and his love.

What changes between the myth of Orpheus and what happens to Jayce is the outcome: Jayce was faster, and his descent into the Underworld succeeded.  

But there is no happy ending.  

Orpheus fails in his endeavor because he loves Eurydice too much and turns back, and Hades knew this. He gave Orpheus an impossible challenge because no one can return from the realm of the dead. If Eurydice had come back among the living, she would not have been the same; she would have been only a ghost, a shadow.

Jayce achieved a feat that, on its own, killed god. Jayce didn’t turn back, because he was no longer guided by love but by blind desperation. He didn’t look back when he brought Viktor into the lab, nor when he took into his hands a power he couldn’t control, nor when he failed to consider that everything Hextech had touched had died.  

Jayce was desperate; anything before him, even a false prophet, was a solid anchor if it could bring Viktor back to him.

And his Eurydice emerges from the mountain.  

A ghost, cold, a living body with a distant soul.  

Jayce was wrong, yes, but would you ever blame him for loving Viktor so much?

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hii I love your writing and hcs, could I possibly request eyeless jack x reader fluff hcs of the things he would do with them in December like winter activities. :3 p.s he's my favorite demon boy.

Winter activities w/ Eyeless Jack

something something i know these posts take a few days to come out but ooough i hear my state is getting a cold front really soon and i am so ready for it. please i want it to feel like fall already esp now that im running around outside grrr notes: reader is gn, short post, non slender mansion au ej lives in the woods in some abandoned cabin cws: none

jack does... not like the cold weather that much and his cabin is not the best place to keep warm... but now he has you, and you make it very clear that your home is open to him at any time

its not until the snow comes that he becomes desperate enough to take you up on your offer- at least hes nice enough to tap on the window to get your attention before crawling right into your home! hes a demon but hes not a monster- to you, at least...

because of the aforementioned dislike for the cold weather a lot of the activities you do together are done inside... hes... actually a really good baker! even if he cant eat the food, hes more than willing to make something with you to pass the time together when its too cold to go outside!

feel free to describe the taste to him- he thinks its cute and endearing watching you make such an effort for him, to include him in the experience

hasnt seen a lot of movies so watching some classics are a MUST! even if they arent exactly winter themed- hes not going to complain about what you put on

though he may give some criticism-- he... hardly ever can find it in himself to just turn off his brain and enjoy something

he almost seethes like an angry cat when you jump into arms after you just got outside- hes already cold as is, and you dare make him even colder?

not the best heater, actually... his body runs cold :(

cuddling MUST be done with him bundled in blankets during the colder months

[bokettochild]

Little Soldier Boy, Come Marching Home

I apparently had some Uncle Aflon brainrot (could y'all tell?) and it spawned this monster!

Not sure if I'm actually going to make a story about this, I mean a proper one, but this refused to let my brain rest until I wrote at least this much, so I figured I'd share it for the folks who kept sending me Aflon asks :)

(Yes I am very aware that the title is from a song, I'd recommend listening to the Reinaeiry cover on YouTube, because it's also rotted my brain since I listened to it and I think it suits Aflon and Legend quite well T-T)

-

  The first time he held Link, it was standing on the edge of the wood, away from the eyes of all the kingdom and under a veil of darkness. The forest chattered and whispered behind him, bringing to mind whispers of thieving Kolkiri and fae, and it had made him hold the babe in his arms all the tighter. 

  His sister-in-law was watching him closely, hands hovering, wary, like she didn’t trust him to hold the child quite right, ready every second to take the positively tiny bundle back from him and tuck that red and fitful face back against her own breast, hushing and cooing softly herself as she’d been when he’d arrived there. She didn’t though, although whether that was due to his own skill or some sort of restraint from the woman, he wasn’t certain. 

  “What’s the little ‘us name then?” He’d asked, pushing down the swaddling of rough fabric, far too rough for so small a thing, but lined carefully with far finer where no eyes could see. The child within trembled, cold air drawing a wavering wail from a tiny mouth. There wasn’t much to see anyways, he was a baby, same as anyone had ever had. Far smaller than Aflon had ever seen before though; so small he almost could hold him in one hand alone, but by all other means the tiny creature wasn’t much to look at. 

  Despite that though, Loretta’s dark gaze hadn’t lifted once from the infant, usually stern features awash with pure adoration as one trailing hand lifted the blanket back up to shield the babe once more. “Link.” 

  “Like the hero?” The dead one? 

  “Like the star,” her hands lingered so close to the face of her child, and in answer, the tiny one stilled, quieting as though some spell was laid over him. “Like the boy who brought hope to dark countries when Hyrule was at her worst.” 

  “Sir Raven’s squire.” 

  She’d nodded. “The same.” 

  And the child was just, well, a child; a tiny wee thing that felt so fragile to hands accustomed to the sword, and Aflon had shaken his head with a sigh, turning to Loretta with the question that had plagued him since he’d been given his riding orders this morning with the command to meet her here. “Why me?” 

  Those had been the words to make her draw back, pain welling up behind dark violet eyes that avoided his own. “There’s no one else I can ask.” 

  “He’s your son.” 

  “Which is the same as a sentence of death,” she’d hissed, tone harsh as her blade, “you know as well as I how Hyrule sees its crown. You took a vow the same as any other knight.” 

  He had. 

  “That child,” her child, “stands no chance, no matter what I do, if I keep him with me.” 

  Aflon had shifted, sparing the bundle in his arms a glance one more before murmuring, “his chances are pretty slim regardless, ‘Etta. Babes this small-” 

  “I know,” She’d run a finger along a tiny cheek, face pinching into something bordering on gentle, on sweet, something no one would describe the woman as save with her steads, “But it’s the best I can give him.” 

  He’d felt the weight of those words, the weight of their expectation, and all the more so when the Queen of all Hyrule had lifted violet eyes to hold his own and given him her final command. “Protect him, Aflon. He’s not just your prince, he’s your nephew, and I swear on hell’s ashes if you fail him, I will flay you.” Typically, he’d have assumed her words to be in jest, but the fire behind her eyes, a furious and dangerous love the likes of which he’s only heard tell of a mother for her babe, had made him take the words to heart. 

  “I won’t fail you, your grace.” 

  “No,” she’d stepped closer, pulled his arms down just a bit further so she could duck her head and press a kiss to a tiny cheek, “don’t fail him. All else doesn’t matter-” 

 “The princess-” 

 “I will mind the princess,” Loretta’s eyes had darkened, “and failing that, the Impa sent is a good one. Your priority is him,” and both of them had turned to the child, a child so tiny he almost weighed nothing, but yet lay so heavy in his arms with duty set beside him. “He needs you.” 

  And he did. He hadn’t seen it then, hadn’t felt it, but even a man made in blood and battle knows the worth of life. And so, somehow, he’d managed. 

  He’d carried his little charge back to the closest village and taken a room, managing to ignore the curious and lingering gazes of the locals at a young knight in full armor with a tiny baby in his arms.  

  In truth, he hadn’t been sure where to go from there. Loretta had entrusted him with her child, which meant all other missions, whatever they might be, were out of the question. His duty as a knight, as a soldier, was now changed, which, all considered, wasn’t the worst fate in the world. Still, he’d mused, staring at the tiny creature that slept more than he stirred, it’s not exactly the life he’d imagined for himself. 

  They’d always been knights, or so his own father had taught himself and his brother. The men in their family take up the sword and the women the plow and reigns of a rancher. Their older sister already is married with her own farm, and goodness knows Banzetta himself, though king consort, still carries his blade as the second in command to their warrior queen. For himself, Aflon has never imagined anything else than to serve as his forefathers, perhaps to marry, although there’s no woman who’s caught his eye as of yet, or at least none he’d be keen to stay beside for all his life. He can’t continue traveling Hyrule though, not with a tiny child in his care, not when the world out there is still so dangerous and dark. 

  For days, he’d stayed at the inn. He’d had no direction or clue, but he’d done his best to mind the tiny princeling in his care, although his attempts must have been very poorly indeed because it wasn’t long at all before two of the local village women had been knocking down his door and scolding him left right and sideways. 

  Without the women of Kakariko, Aflon could say for a certainty that neither he nor Link would have made it through that winter. They had though. The ladies of Kakariko nursed his precious nephew alongside their own children, taught himself how to change and clean a child, how to swaddle them up tight against the cold, how to burp and soothe them. He’d listened with care, listened like they were marching orders from a commanding officer, and he’d taken them all to heart, employing every bit of skill imparted to best fulfill his duty to the child in his care. 

  Thankful as he was for those women, the many mothers of Kakariko, young and old both, there was still, despite their care, a fear that gripped him each time one of them took up Link in their arms. The babe was a prince of Hyrule, and were that known it would be easy to stage some incident to see that the bad omen that was a royal son was no more. The women of the village would laugh, saying that anxiety for a child was normal, but they had no conception how deeply his fear ran each time one of them held the boy, each time he had to turn his back on his helpless charge for even the smallest of moments. 

  Come spring, he’d settled, bought a piece of land with the money he’d saved over the years and made a home for himself. As it happened, an old orchard had been up for sale, just close enough to the village to keep in touch with those who’d shown them kindness, but with enough distance that he no longer felt the need to be on the defense at all times against neighbors who might seek to harm the boy in his care. 

  They’d asked, some of the village folk, if the baby was his. For lack of a better response, he’d said Link was his brother’s. No one questioned it. Why would they? He was a stranger to them, and though chatter would sound on street corners wondering what had happened to lead him, ‘a clueless young man who hasn’t the faintest on how to mind a babe’ to have care of Link, but they’d never asked him anything more, just gone on offering advice. 

  That was fine though. That was better than them all assuming he was the father, because it felt wrong to allow such a misconception. He couldn’t say why, but when a parent still lives and wants their child, there’s no right for another to claim them as their own. Besides, he couldn’t be a father. 

  As it was, some days he felt he was doing a terrible job of being an uncle. 

  And he hadn’t thought of himself as such at first, but somewhere amid long nights sitting up, just watching labored breaths from a body almost too frail to take them, somewhere amid whispered words with doctors who’d told him to let go already, with midwives who’d urged him to keep fighting as long as his little one did, somewhere along the line of spending every day forever in the presence of the child, there’d come a day when he’d stopped worrying about his charge, and where he’d started fretting about his nephew. 

  Maybe it was those moments of clarity and wakefulness when big bright eyes would stay up at him, so curious. When floppy little ears would follow the sounds of his voice, or tiny hands would cling fast to an offered finger, toothless jaws working at its tip with little coos and warbles. He couldn’t say. But somewhere in that first winter he’d gone from a knight with a charge to an uncle with a nephew, and he’d never wanted to go back. 

  Sure, it was hard some days. Link was a sickly baby from the start, and he grew slowly. He was bright though, so very bright, like a star as his mother had said, and with every passing day those eyes so like the queen’s own had filled up with their own constellations of joy and smiles, tiny hands clapping, little feet stumbling.  

  Despite all concerns and doubts, his little Link beat the odds. 

  The child was his sunshine. He’d never been a very social man, so the company of a single boy wasn’t bad at all in his opinion. Granted, with just the two of them it had raised concerns when Link hadn’t learned to speak when he should, and for a time he’d wondered if perhaps it was for a lack of him having used words enough for the little one to know them, but in time he’d accepted that words weren’t to be had, and while some village folk would murmur that a changeling might have been traded for his precious bundle, stolen by jealous kolkiri in vengeance for their own lost little one, he’d never minded too much. He’d learned to speak with his hands from the village elder, and so Link had as well, and by that means they’d gotten along quite well until the wee one had made up his mind to try for actual sounds. 

  His old friends from the army were company at times, stopping in between missions and runs, catching a drink or a place to stay. He used to worry about exposing Link to the life he’d known among them, but in front of the child they’d all minded well, many even offering help and kindness he’d never dare to ask for. Some had children of their own, they said, others younger siblings. Regardless of the reason though, not a man would enter his home as didn’t have a kind word for his nephew, and while worry still brewed up within to see Loretta’s child among men sworn to prevent his existence, not a one had ever guessed at the truth. 

  And then everything had changed when Link turned eight. 

  He’d been talking by then. Belated though it was, words would come to him at times, although he’d prefer his hands over his tongue. Despite the murmurs of locals though, the boy was bright, sitting up more often than not with whatever book Aflon could find for him and positively devouring anything inside of them, big violet eyes near glittering in delight at the world painted for his eager mind, at the discoveries and worlds and words and stories- heavens did his little star love the stories! He had ever so much to say about what he read, and a smile brighter than the sun itself, and small though he still was, weak though he’d likely always be, Aflon adored the boy that ran to his arms at every day’s end and shared home and heart with him. 

  He’d had doubts, in the beginning, that he could settle to a quiet life, but it never felt quiet with Link so eagerly learning about it beside him, indeed, it felt like he’d only just learned what it was to be alive for himself! 

  And every day was a new adventure, teaching his nephew something new or finding himself taught some lesson or fact. Every night was settling down before the fire and holding firm against the plea of “one more page!” before smothering his precious Link in mustachioed kisses and tucking him in tight against the chill of the night. Sometimes they were disturbed with guests and his efforts would be in vain, but nine times out of ten when that did happen, Captain Bertram or Major Wilkins would take the lad back to bed and recount enough stories to finally have him dozing off against them, ready to be tucked back in again upon their departure. 

  He wouldn’t have changed that life for the world though. 

  Yet, the world seemed to have other plans. 

  Link had startled awake in the middle of a storm one night, tearfully insisting that something was wrong, that there was danger, that Zelda, the sister he didn’t know was his even then, was in danger and that she’d told him so herself.  

  To another man, it might have been nothing, just a bad dream, but Aflon had himself woken before to the sound of startled cries sounding through an army camp. He could remember when the queen would awake from a vision while traveling with himself and his brother, and many a time, Banzetta had recounted to him when it happened that he hadn’t seen. It was in their blood, the people of Hyrule would say, that those of the royal line would sometimes be given visions, often of future events and or trouble brewing beyond even the eyes of the Sheikah. That was how all the prophecies surrounding his own family had come about, how the reappearance of a hero had been foretold. 

  So, upon hearing such strange words from the mouth of his nephew, rather than beg him return to bed or otherwise ignore it, Aflon had taken it to heart. After all, he’d been reminded, looking down at the tear-stained face at his bedside, Link may be his nephew, but he was also still Loretta’s son; still born with the blood of the crown, a prince of Hyrule. 

   So, although Loretta had told him to leave Zelda’s care to herself long ago, back when she and Banzetta were still alive and before some mission had gone awry and the both were lost forever- despite the fact that the Impa chosen by the sheikah had, indeed, never once failed in her duties, he’d still chosen to attend to the fears of his nephew and brave the storm, just in case. He’d chosen to risk it, even if it did mean he’d strayed from his orders. 

  He wishes every day that he hadn’t.  

  If only he’d done as Loretta said and minded Link first and foremost, maybe nothing would have changed. If only he’d promised that in the morning they would go together- although, looking back, he knows the princess would have been dead by that time if he had. 

  He’s long come to grips with the fact that whatever he had done, there would have been no happy ending, but even so, he still hates himself that he had allowed what happened next. 

  Rather than tell him to go home, rather than protect him, shield him from the world his mother never wanted him to know, Aflon had looked into the terrified eyes of his nephew, down in the depths of the castle sewers where the boy had followed him against his orders, he’d used his final breaths to push a sword and shield into hands too small to hold them, bidding the child go to save Zelda. He’d known he was dying, he’d known Link was scared, but at that little obedient nod, he’d also known something more: 

  His death would leave Link the last of their bloodline, and a prophecy given to a queen long ago had once said that it would be the last of them that would face Ganon when next he emerged. Looking at eyes the same as Loretta’s own, albeit far kinder, he’d found himself reminded of those words, and sickeningly certain that he was witnessing the birth of that hero. His little Link who wanted to be a farmer, who didn’t know how to fight and who was still so tiny, so young, was going to become the Hero of Hyrule. 

  Though he’d been bleeding out as they spoke, he’s rather certain it was heartbreak that had been his undoing, not the wound in his side, and he’d drawn his final breath to the sound of sniffled tears. 

  Yet, it seemed his eyes had only just closed before they were opening again, pain gone and so too his young charge. At first, he’d thought perhaps he’d struck his head somehow and dreamed the whole thing, but both sword and shield were gone as well, although when he reached the end of the sewer system the prison was quiet, empty of any princess, and when he’d turned back and returned to the outside world, not only was it daylight, but it was spring. 

  It had been a late autumn storm that he’d traveled through to reach the castle. 

  He’d thought, hoped, that it was some trick, but when he’d hurried along back towards town, to the house, everyone he passed seemed to think nothing at all of the fact that they were plowing fields and making ready for a planting. They were preparing for a new year of work, as though the winter itself wasn’t supposed to be coming, as though it had already happened! And there were still bits of snow lying about. There was a dampness to the ground of a fresh fallen rain. The world itself seemed insistent it tell him that he was wrong. But if he was, then where had the time gone, and what had happened? Where was Link and why was his side unmarred as though never an ax had plowed through it? 

  His feet had all but flown down the paths, paying little or no mind to those he passed or the startled shouts they sent his way. His goal had been set; his destination desperately darted towards. 

  The house looked entirely normal when he’d finally reached it. The orchard was beginning to brighten, not yet blooming, still expecting another snap of cold before the season truly sprung, but they were well along to blossoming. The path was clear, nothing and no one on it, and when he’d come to the door, he’d found it locked up tight. As it should be, as he’d left it, as he’d taught Link to leave it. He still had his key with him even though his sword was missing, and though his hands trembled he’d still managed to fish it out and, with some struggle, had gotten it into the lock. 

  The house looked the same as it had when he left. Clean as a whistle because a soldier’s training still lingered with him even after eight years and that expectation was one that he’d taught Link to hold himself to as well. Their beds were made sloppily, as though the boy had tried to do it for him after he’d left and maybe given up after, or else simply been unable to see, from his height, how crookedly the blankets had been lain. Most notably though, Aflon had noted, there wasn’t much in the way of dust. There wasn’t much in the way of dirt. The only difference that he found was that the pot, which he kept by the door for spare rupees, was empty. 

  His breath had evened some at that. A clean house meant someone had minded it, and missing rupees were nothing if it meant Link hadn’t been left to starve in the unidentified period of time where Aflon had been absent. 

  Or so he had thought. 

  It was two days later, two days he’d spent searching the whole neighborhood, quite at the end of his rope in fear as Link hadn’t been seen at all in that time, when at last he’d laid eyes on his nephew. 

  Or rather, when he’d met the hero. 

  Because the wary creature that entered the cottage door and froze, hand on a sword and dark eyes so large in a thin face, was not his nephew. Because his nephew would have run to him with maybe a few tears or a cheer, jumping into his arms with a hug rather than start and draw a blade the moment Aflon made a motion towards him. 

  Link didn’t fear him. 

  The boy who came to him in Link’s stead did. 

  When he voiced his worries to the women who’d helped to mind the lad over the years, some would say perhaps he’d been taken, changed for a changeling by the forest children, at last getting their hands on a hero to replace their own. Others just shook their heads and sighed, unwilling to explain why. 

  He’d known though that the child in his home wasn’t a changeling though. No, because that child had eyes every bit as much like the late queen. Eyes that knew war, and battle, that bore the burden of a kingdom which dragged on too small shoulders, eyes that Knew, that Looked, and eyes that Saw people for what they were, not simply what they’d claim to be. There was no doubt, looking at that boy, that he was Loretta’s son. 

  But he wasn’t Aflon’s nephew. 

  Link was bright and bubbly, quieter by nature but prone to prattling when the mood took him. The silent little thing that lived in his house, wary like a rabbit hunted and hidden, was a stark contrast. Link liked to travel with him, going to town for any errands and skip-tripping along the path at his side, getting distracted by small creatures and ever full of questions.  

  Not only did the hero avoid going out of the house when he could, preferring instead to stay inside behind a locked-up door and shuttered windows, but when he did go out, the lad was ever scanning the world, ever watching the sky and the path as though expecting an attack from one or the other. He didn’t stray off towards sudden changes, curious ears cocked, he put a hand to his shoulder and looked for a blade. 

  The child that came back to him held the manner and look of an old knight, not a child too young to even be a page, and it disturbed him. He tried though. This was Loretta’s son, the prince of Hyrule, and as he’d later learned, the boy had indeed become the country’s hero. Not that the boy had told him that himself. No, the child in his home didn’t speak, tongue faltering and sounds stuttering before hands would lift to answer questions in as few words as possible. 

  Two of his fingers were crooked, Aflon realized, watching him, heart aching. Two fingers and, in those first days, he’d favor one leg over the other. 

  He wanted to help, but the boy was wary of touch, starting and panicking as a first reaction if he didn’t see it coming and wincing even when he could. He kept a wide space between himself and anyone, a swords-distance, Aflon realized after a spell, although as for the blade he carried, well, that had disappeared after the first few weeks. It wasn’t the sword he’d handed to his nephew though. The sword that the hero held was unfamiliar to him; radiant, beautiful, masterfully forged so that his own blade paled in comparison. His was absent, and the one time he had asked what happened to it, he’d just watched violet eyes fall and shoulders hunch, and immediately changed the subject. 

  It was hard. His nephew looked the same as Loretta’s child, same face, same form, same stature, although time had made her changes too. The boy was scrawny, and though he had hoped his lost rupees meant his charge was still fed even with him gone, he’d come to doubt that. 

  He wasn’t sure what to make of it when, at learning of his own return, one of the neighbors down the road had invited them both for dinner, and the hero child had only stared at his own plate, stirring the food around but not eating. He’d dismissed it at first, but soon it became abundantly clear that the hero would not eat food he couldn’t watch being prepared, not unless it was a meal offered by Aflon himself, and, to his own surprise, Dolly, the village elder’s wife. 

  Somehow, both she, Dolly, and Sahasralah, the elder, were the only ones who seemed unaffected by how his charge had changed. In fact, more than once, Aflon would find himself watching, wistful, as the two would speak with or even handle the hero with not a thing done to show fear in response. Simple acceptance met their motions, their words, and at times he’d almost been tempted to ask if maybe the boy that wore Link’s face wanted to stay with them instead, as he seemed so much more at peace in their home. 

  He didn’t though. He’d sworn a vow, a vow to do his duty to his prince, to his queen, and though he wasn’t certain if Loretta’s spirit would haunt him if he failed that, he wasn’t exactly keen to find out. 

  He couldn’t leave her son with strangers, with people she didn’t know or trust. Still, as the days passed, house silent as a crypt and the boy inside nearly the corpse it housed, he’d found the temptation growing daily. 

  At night as he’d blow out the lamps, now knowing full well not to approach his charge in the dark and sometimes fearing to even look at him (because what looked back was a slip of a shade with eyes glinting red like a rabbit’s in the low light of the hearth and by all means hardly human) he’d fight his own mind on the matter. Stay or leave, linger with what wasn’t any longer what he’d sword to protect, the child that wasn’t his nephew but was a hero. 

  Loretta said to protect him, he’d remind himself as he lay beneath the blankets. Yet, small hands knew the touch of blood, and the boy who’d wandered in at his door knew a blade like knights four times his age still hadn’t learned. Lying there at night, he’d wonder to himself, what was there left to protect the boy from? Loretta’s child already had seen everything she wanted to shield him from, so what was even the point, when there was no more innocence to shield? 

  It was that thinking, after weeks, months, that had led to him gathering up clothing and books, toys left behind because the person who would leave with him wasn’t a child but a young soldier, so what did they matter? He’d packed things up, watched the hero slip to his side to help, dutifully but silently gathering Link’s clothes and folding them up with the same careful effort Link always did, ending with the same misshapen result, and tucking them away like they would do every summer for the trip back to his own childhood home. 

  He’d locked the door tight that summer. Shut up the shutters and minded that nothing was left untended, no mess within or without. Long ears had cocked sideways, big eyes watching, curious, but nothing was said with scarred hands holding their bags while he prepared the house for their departure. 

  Most summers, he’d take Link down to Lon-Lon so the boy could stay with his grandparents and Aflon could attend to the heavier tasks of their orchard without worrying over minding the lad or leaving him feeling alone. This year though, after Mother had ushered the boy within the ranch house, shooting him a startled stare over his shoulder, he’d not gone back to the cottage. 

  Aflon Lon had, instead, taken to the road. 

  Guilt ate at him, but he’d known there was no going back.  

  He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t return to the house. It wasn’t home without the laughter of his nephew, without bright eyes and brighter smiles. It wasn’t home without a presence at his side working away at the trees, muttering and talking at times to the birds who’d stop to watch them in their labor. It wasn’t home without Link, and Link- or at least the boy he knew, was gone. 

 So, he’d wandered Hyrule. He hadn’t traveled in a long while, but it was easy to take up again, to wander the roads by day and make camp at night. He stopped in old haunts he used to visit as a knight to see how they had changed, and he’d thought nothing of his wanderings. After all, it was summer; the summers were always free for him to do what he wanted. It was when autumn had begun to show her colors that guilt had well and truly began to build up inside of him. 

  Link would be waiting at the gates of Lon-Lon, watching the road for his uncle to come and bring him home. He knew it wouldn’t be the same eager stare, ears crooked and head rested on folded arms as the boy would perch on the rungs of the fence, leaning his whole weight against it and keeping eyes and ears on the road. The hero child would likely sit with more wariness, but despite all changes there was no doubt in Aflon’s mind that he’d wait all the same. 

  The difference though, the real one, was that this time, Aflon couldn’t come back. He couldn’t. 

  He couldn’t go back to that house, that child, he couldn’t live like that forever, with the shade of what should have been. 

  Mother and Father though, they could handle a soldier boy. They’d handled Banzetta after his first battles, they’d know how to work with Loretta, and if they could manage the parents of his own charge, he was sure theft were the best suited to handling a young hero. Not only that, but they were safe, they were good, and they’d never hurt Link for the circumstances of his birth. They would be better to him than Aflon could be, and given time, he was sure the hero would settle there again, into a life with a knight, a lady, a history of heroes all around him on the walls and swords ready for his hands; the life he’d taken on, but one Aflon couldn’t watch lived. 

  As for himself, he’d wander. He’d travel, he’d embrace the world he’d had to forsake for a small bundle. By winter, he’d gone further south than he’d ever strayed, gone where word of the hero didn’t reach, where peace and simplicity beckoned. He’d meant to resist, but an evening in a bar with a pretty woman at his side had changed that. 

  “Here alone, stranger?” She’d asked, voice thick with a drawl and gaze bold as she’d settled beside him. 

  He’d never been a bold man, quiet by nature, so he’d nodded. 

  She hadn’t been dissuaded, motioning to the barkeep for a round for them both before striking up chatter, asking where he was from? What brought him here? Where was he going? And his answer of course had been that he was from central Hyrule, seeking his fate and unsure where he’d find it. 

  “D’ya have a family?” She’d asked, honest and friendly. “Can’t be easy for them not knowing where you are.” 

  And he’d hesitated, just a moment, before offering a stilted smile and answering “just my parents and a sister.” 

  A sister who’d left, he told her, to marry a man from across the border, who visited at times but was busy with a farm and a family of her own, much like his own parents were even in their older age. He’d said nothing of a nephew, just the same as he’d left out the dead older brother and sister-in-law. 

  He’d lingered in that town for a few more days, and she’d been at the pub each night, coming to join him when he entered and striking up chatter until they were both looking forwards to the evening when they’d happen upon each other. Somehow though, that had turned to arranged meetings, to wandering, to talking, to a kiss that left him speechless and a courtship that left him stumbling and eager like he hadn’t been since he was just a boy. 

  He’d wondered how she hadn’t had a fella before he’d come, but he’d thanked the heavens for it too, especially when he’d proposed, when they’d taken a home together, when they’d made the choice to live life together. 

  It was easy to forget, for a while, in that early bliss, in the whirlwind of emotions, what he’d left behind to find it. He was reminded though when their own little one was born, when a little boy had been laid in his arms and he’d started when blue shone back at him rather than violet. 

  Liza would laugh and tease him, calling him a worrywart when he fussed. She’d say it was like he’d never held a child before; he was so cautious. She’d remind him to relax, when she found him sitting up and watching the wee one slumber, because he was healthy, he was fine, they needn’t worry so much because while babies need care, they won’t break if you breathed wrong. 

  Aflon couldn’t help himself though. 

  He was used to looking for signs of trouble, for any hint of illness. He’d started when their boy had started babbling, started talking, at only two years old. Liza had said that was normal, that they wouldn’t stay babies forever, that it was part of growing up. Still, he’d found himself signing more than speaking with the boy, and more times than he could count, the wrong name had slipped to his lips. 

  Their son had dark hair like his mother, blue eyes like Aflon himself, but it always startled him to see them. It was supposed to be strawberry blonde, with starlit skies veiled beneath. He expected a slip of a child who was quiet but eager, not a loud little thing that ran and darted and climbed and made him panic because Link was fragile! …except this wasn’t Link, and his son was strong, like him, like Liza. His son was bold, loud, like a little boy was supposed to be, not timid and wary like the boy he’d left behind. 

  It never stopped catching him off guard though. Their little Rusl didn’t care anything for books, or reading, or sitting still. He was always off with other children of the village; he was always climbing trees and ‘sword fighting’ other young ones with twigs they’d find on the roadside. 

  He was a normal boy, all told, but somehow that was more jarring, in so many ways, than if he hadn’t been. Because Aflon had never dealt with a normal boy, he realized. Even Before, his Link hadn’t been normal, he just hadn’t known to see it. 

  It was strange, how often Rusl would stare, watching people without those hesitant little falters that Link always had when someone met his eyes. He didn’t pay attention to the little details, didn’t care to watch the sky or the sun. He didn’t care about stars or tiny creatures or pouring over books the same size as himself for hours. 

  The one thing that the two boys did have in common though, was a love for stories of heroes. 

  Link used to bury his little button nose in the volumes of history that told of the Hero of the Four Sword, the Hero of the Skies: the chosen hero. Rusl didn’t read much, but one day he’d come back to their home with Liza after errands, and he’d had nothing on his mind except some story he’d heard about the Hero of Legends. 

  Aflon had paused in making dinner, frowning because he’d never heard of that hero before, because Link never spoke of that title. 

  “Who is the Hero of Legend?” He’d asked, turning to the dirt streaked four-year-old at the door. 

  “He’s who killed Ganon and saved Princess Zelda!” Had been his answer. “He’s so cool, I wish he’d come to our village so I could meet him!” 

  He hadn’t realized, until Liza had darted across the kitchen and scooped up the pot, that their meal had boiled over, or that it’d burned his hand when it did. 

  Rusl and his friends would talk about Link, pretend to be Link, say they wanted to be heroes like him, be knights, be brave. He’d be in the village and stories would sound, gossip between neighbors recounting the latest exploits of the Hero of Legend. He’d killed Ganon twice, he’d traveled the world, he’d saved Labrynna from a witch, he’d fought some tyrant down in Holodrum. Everyone had a different rumor that they’d heard, everyone a different thought on what the hero might be like. Despite all they’d chatter about though, all he could see in his own mind was a boy with heavy eyes and crooked fingers that trembled when he used them to talk. 

  Aflon had gone home that day, after hearing all the chatter, all the stories, all the news that had come down to them from some merchant who’d strayed to town, and he’d told Liza he was taking a trip. 

  “Just for a few days,” he’d said, wrapping arms around her and trying to smile, even though he’d known she’d see past it. “Just to see how my parents are doing.” He’d left out the part about his old house, about the child he’d raised inside it. He knew it was wrong, felt guilt eat away each time his mind turned there, but he’d never let slip about the boy he’d raised before meeting her, the child he’d left behind. 

  Link, as he’d known him, was gone, why speak of what wasn’t there any longer? Why drag everything he’d tried to leave behind into the perfection he’d stumbled himself into? 

  Still, he needed to know, needed to see, and maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted to see Loretta’s boy again, just to assure himself that he was alright, because try as he might, much as he wished, worry still plagued his heart for the little soldier boy he’d left at Lon-Lon. 

  He’d stopped by the house first, if only out of curiosity for what had become of it. It had been years, had the village elders sold it? Left it be? He didn’t know, so he’d taken the road around Kakariko, hood up as he passed old neighbors, boots stumbling some on a path he knew better than that back to his own wife and child. 

  The cottage hadn’t changed a bit. Standing on the path, apple trees shivering in a slight breeze, he’d almost felt a decade younger, almost tricked himself into thinking he’d need only open the old wood door, the door whose key still sat heavy in his pocket, and a bright little face would whip around to meet him, gap-toothed grin his welcome home as feet would pit-patter across the worn-out floors. Maybe it was that image that tricked his feet into walking, following a path altered only by shade of trees grown taller in his absence, their fruit hanging heavy but not yet ready to be plucked.  

  It’d be cider making season soon, he’d mused to himself, hand digging through his pocket for a key he couldn’t name why he still carried. Absently, he wondered if the old press was still down in the basement, if Link- because it must be Link- had minded to keep it oiled and tended, or if he’d left off using it. After all, the former knight chuckled, the boy couldn’t even turn the handle fully on his own, now could he? 

  His mind had been so caught in his thoughts he hadn’t been minding his surroundings, pushing the door open after a moment’s struggle (the key stuck more than it once used to) and moving to enter his old home. He hadn’t expected to be immediately whacked over the head, nor, when he’d picked himself up again, to find himself face to… face(?) with a masked figure. 

  “We aren’t open!” The purple clad individual had declared, mallet in hand, and a small creature with wings- which could in no ways be considered a bird- fluttering about at his shoulders, squawking and hissing something terrible. “And if you thought you could break in, you’re dead wrong!” 

  Aflon had blinked, slowly, and then started, gaze flying about the house briefly. 

  It wasn’t changed, not really. Pictures were all taken down and boxes were tucked against the walls, but the couch, the rocking chair, the china-cabinet, it was all still there, still in the same places, now with new stains and scuffs, but he could recognize them all the same. Really, the only major difference was the desk near the door scattered over with glittering items and objects, little price tags set before them in poor mimicry of a shop. 

  He wasn’t sure if the purple clad figure was meant to be here or not, but given that the house still technically belonged to him, he’d been more than slightly caught off guard. 

  “I’m not here for a shop, I- who are you?” 

  “Who are you?” The apparent merchant had demanded in answer, face shielded behind a hood that looked like it was meant to resemble a very, very odd face. “And why are you here?” Their voice was trembling slightly, but they stood firm despite. 

  “I live- or, well…” he’d paused, picking himself up and dusting himself off, “I used to live here. This was my house- still is actually, I’ve just been away.” 

  Despite not being able to see the merchant’s eyes, he could feel the apprehension in their gaze, weighty as it was as they looked up at him, one hand on their hip and the other holding fast to their oversized mallet. “You must have the wrong house; this one belongs to Mister Hero.” 

  Oh. 

  “You mean Link?” 

  “You know him?” Their head cocked on one side, hood following with a flap of long ear-like attachments. 

  Aflon had nodded briefly. “Do you?” 

  “Of course!” And suddenly the mallet was gone, the figure gesturing about with a cheery chirp now entering their tone. “He’s my housemate! Lets me stay here, keep up the shop while he’s gone and all that lovely sort of thing. Didn’t realize he had a landlord himself though! So terribly sorry if he’s been stiffing you on rent, he’s been out of town for forever now, you see.” 

  He’d nodded. He hadn’t known what better to do. 

  The stranger had introduced themselves as Ravio, offered to show him their wares, but when asked about Link had firmly insisted that he knew nothing more than that the hero was off on some mission for the crown or something and that he was just keeping the house in order for him. 

  It had been all Aflon needed to hear though. Link was still alive, apparently having embraced his role as the hero, and it seemed he wasn’t alone. He must have left the farm at some time, but seeing as he was approaching fifteen it made sense. He’d been rather eager for his freedom at that age too. 

  The kid would be fine, he’d told himself, walking back to Liza and Rusl. Link didn’t need him; he was getting along fine. 

  Somehow, even with the whole trip home to convince himself of that, it hadn’t worked. In fact, now he couldn’t stop thinking about it, slipping more with Rusl, drifting off at home. Liza wouldn’t let him in the kitchen anymore, insisting that he was too prone to forgetting what he’d been doing, too likely to hurt himself because he wasn’t paying attention. She’d begged him to see a doctor, or talk to her, but he’d waved it off, saying he was just tired, just thinking, he was fine; he just needed to rest. He knew she didn’t believe him, but she’d stopped asking at least. 

  If only he could stop himself thinking as easily. 

  But as the months and seasons passed, more worry had grown, more thoughts. 

  Link is turning sixteen this winter. Sixteen years since he’d stood on the edge of the wood with the queen of Hyrule and taken her child in his arms, promising to guard him. Only eight of those years were spent keeping that promise, only half, and he’d startled when he’d realized it. Even now, he’s left wondering, as he braves a storm so like that night that robbed him of his precious nephew, has Link changed? What is he like now? Did he ever grow into those too-big ears of his? Did he learn to look men in the eyes when he spoke to them, to steady his voice and hold himself with surety and not simply just skill? 

 His boy will be becoming a man, and he doesn’t know what that man looks like. 

  Or rather, he didn’t. 

  Because when he comes home, drenched to the bone but with a fresh kill in hand, ready for dinner, ready for him to show Rusl how to skin and prepare it, he finds his house full of strangers, his wide smiling and telling him that they’re travelers, more boys than men, and they need a place to stay but the inn is so far. Of course he greets them, of course he looks at men in armor and offers a smile like he would to his old brothers in arms, welcomes them to his home. 

  He didn’t realize, until just now, how much he missed hosting people fresh off the path he once used to follow, how much he missed their stories or sharing a smoke or a drink with men like himself once in a while, not just farming folk (nice as they are). 

  He’s midway to offering the a warm welcome when his eyes stray to the fire and he finds himself freezing. 

  Great violet eyes, shaded heavy under strawberry blonde, plastered down by dampness and the storm that howls just outside the door, stare up at him. 

  His breath catches. 

  It’s Loretta’s face, freckled and fine, fae-like features and faint traces of scars, upturned nose and steady jaw, but the galaxies that gaze out from violet pools aren’t the queen, even if everything else about the figure at his fire is. No, those stars are all Link, all his nephew, and the weight of that stare, not sure and stern like his sister-in-law but yet also not startled and wide like that day eight years back when he’d first met the hero. 

  In the same breath, it’s the dead queen and the young hero that sits before him. It’s Loretta with accusing eyes, fire burning in their depths as his own words ring in his head, sounding a promise, a vow to do as she’d said, to guard and guide her son, to protect him, no matter what. Yet it’s Link, it’s that little boy with eyes that know a demon’s smile and remember him bathed in his own blood. 

  If his heart had failed him when he’d first put a sword in the hands of his nephew, it’s ache is a thousand times worse as he stares at the result of that action, even as it refuses to cease in an endless flutter inside him as shock touches the face of the little soldier boy he’d left behind eight years ago, but who’s somehow, some way, found his way back before Aflon’s fire, staring up at him with the same startled gaze that shook and broke his world so long ago. 

  His knees hit the floor even as Liza cries out in concern, hands fluttering about him, but he can’t lift his eyes to look at her. Instead, he’s trapped in an endless expanse of dying stars. 

  “Link.” 

  Long ears, still too big for his nephew, turn his way at the sound of his voice, the answer coming out breathless and disbelieving. “Uncle?” 

[killuakiru]

Hiii hru? I was wondering if I could request gon and killua (seperate) with a fem reader that is very girly? And I know it’s kinds weird but she kinda has pretty privilege and will literally get whatever she wants by winning at some other teenager. Shes very kind and sweet though so she doesn’t take advantage of it. Sorry if that’s kind of odd and if you don’t want to write it it’s ok🫶 love you!

HI ANON !! It's completely alright 🫡 I find this request rly cute as my other post was the exact opposite ! Thank you for making this request 🫰 Apologies if its ooc ( out of character ), but I had soo much fun writing this !

⊹₊⋆ IT Girl !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⊹₊⋆ Girly!Reader x Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecss ( Separate ! )ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

༉‧₊˚. Let's Start !༉‧₊˚.

༉‧₊˚. Killua Zoldyck !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Now let's all be honest ! The first time Killua met you, he probably felt so annoyed and kept grumbling how they were teams with a "girl." As the stereotypical boy he is.

• But despite Killua's comments, you were so unbothered and even excused his actions?! He was stunned! Because if that was him, he'd internally judge them!

• But honestly, Killua underestimated you. In Killua's eyes, you looked so.. fragile? Yet your performance in combat impressed him! You were pretty agile, and you had a smart mind— not to mention, you were pretty, too! Not like he would say that out loud.

• During the final examination, yk the time where he killed an applicant? He could see you from his peripheral vision, and he saw genuine worry and concern for him. HIM. He found that so odd that a girl like you would worry for him.

• When you rescued him, that look in your eyes just SCREAMED affection, and that just hit Killua in the gut, y'know? Who wouldn't fumble in their words when such a pretty and sweet girl like [Name] comes running to them with an expression like that.

• See now— in Killua's case, he's never been with a caring or sweet female since almost everyone is his household is literally fucked up. So you were a new case for him.

• Nonetheless, he was pretty honored and glad you came for him out of everyone.

• And so, he slowly warmed up to you, even growing comfortable to the point he'd randomly touch your hair, arms, fingers, just any where he thinks that looks odd or pretty.

• Yes ! He sometimes stares at your features and finds himself admiring them. Well who wouldn't?! The way you bat your eyelashes so innocently, the way your lip gloss reflects the sun in a positive elegant way when you smile, complimenting your teeth, the way your blush makes your cheeks so much more squishy he just wants to—

• "Killua? You okay? You're zoning out again." [Name] says in amusement with Gon just looked at the boy who was staring, Killua blinked twice and hummed in a nonchalant manner, placing his hands behind his back and shrugged. "I'm perfectly fine. Better than ever. Let's get going again."

• There was one time where there's this one kid around their age who was gatekeeping Killua's the store's choco robots and you came to Killua's rescue, using your very cutesy face card to convince the kid to at least have 3!

• After that, Killua looked at you like you're some kind of GODDESS. He's been trying to convince that kid and you did it so effortlessly?! Even snagging him an extra one?! Oh you're his favorite now.

༉‧₊˚. Gon Freecss !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• He found you SUUUPER cute and charismatic ! Like the whole time you two were talking, he'd always sneak in a compliment ! His words flattered you a bunch, too !

• He's like a natural smooth talker 'cause WHAT?! Every compliment / comment he makes about you leaves your heart beating!

• Instead of you making him flustered, you ALWAYS find yourself stammering over your words. Was it you who fell in love first or was it him?!

• Honestly with how smooth he is you're starting to think he treats every girl like this.. ( Spoiler, he doesn't )

• During the Heaven's Arena training, he was genuinely worried since you'd often wear skirts, but turns out you were already prepared! Introducing the.. skort! While it looks like an ordinary skirt, there were already built in shorts inside to prevent the creeps from looking!

• Similarly to Killua, he finds himself staring but is shamelessly doing it. When you stare back, he smiles. SMILES so charmingly, making YOU look away and he laughs.

• He loves the fact you get along with anyone you see or talk to !! It's probably because of your looks and personality, but nonetheless he supports you !!

• okay but I js know he's really vocal with your favorite features !! He probably loves your hair since it looks so silky, smooth, and soft to the touch! He also probably loves your nails too ! Almost having new and different styles monthly and he loves making guesses and predictions on what the design / style it'll be !!

• oh and, he absolutely LOVES how you do a wardrobe change almost everyday, you and Killua do a bunch of fashion shows together and Gon rates them :3

• His favorite fits are probably the ones with the very long skirts that reach the ankles with a comfy top, just anything that reminds him of Mito !

• He loves all the girls in his life equally :3 a lot of things reminds him of you and Mito ! So when he brought you and Killua to Whale Island to meet Mito, he was really happy that you got along well with his mother <3

• This was honestly his go signal to just shoot his shot, what could he lose? His mama loves you so much ! And he does too !! And so does Killua !! Everyone approves of you !!

༉‧₊˚. End !༉‧₊˚.

Thank you for reading ! This strictly belongs to me / killuakiru and I do not give permission for you to repost on other platforms, thank you !

[rea-grimm]

Phoenix Ace - Looking through his eyes

You were sitting in a dark, gray, cold Marine base. You had the misfortune of being caught in a moment of weakness and carelessness. The seastone bars blocked your devil fruit abilities, and when you approached or touched them, they drained all the energy from you. 

Your abilities wouldn't help you escape, either. Your fruit gave you the ability to see through the eyes of your soulmate, when to your surprise it was your childhood friend that you met again aboard the Mobidick. 

It took you a while to figure out who the eyes belonged to, but eventually you figured it out. You knew from his eyes that they were Whitebeard pirates, but you had no idea exactly who. It wasn't until you joined them that you found out. 

But now you were sitting in a cell, unable to see what Ace was doing, where he was, or what he had just seen. Sometimes when you looked through his eyes you could see the sky and you thought you could feel the wind in your face.

Apparently, today was supposed to be the day of your execution. The Marines were trying to eliminate you as soon as possible, and in doing so, capture Whitebeard's other pirates, your friends. 

You sat on the concrete bed with your head on your knees, thinking about Ace. Of the warmth of his fire that you now missed as the cold of the cell made you shiver. 

Instead of the cell and listening to the execution platform being built outside, you closed your eyes and remembered your experiences with Ace. 

For example, you smiled at the memory of the first time he had asked you to a romantic candlelit dinner that nearly set the table on fire from how much he had gotten worked up. Thatch prepared you his best menu and Marco helped Ace with ideas.  

Ace tried to act like a gentleman and especially eat slowly and not stuff himself like normal. You could see in him how hard he tried and restrained himself. You wanted him to be himself and you saw how Ace was relieved and began to contentedly stuff himself to the point where his own mouth was small and his wings fluttered contentedly. 

"Thatch really did his best. You should taste it too. It's delicious..." he said as you noticed his eyelids droop and before you could do anything Ace fell asleep. With his fork still in his hand, his head fell into his plate and he snorted contentedly. Some might think he died, but he was just sleeping. 

You knew about his narcolepsy, but it almost always caught you off guard since you weren't expecting it. You picked yourself up and lifted his head off the plate, settling him down so he wouldn't fall again. After that, you wiped the remnants of food off his face.

You tried to shake him and wake him up, even slap him a little, but none of it worked. Just like it never did before. Instead, you let him sleep. You put your food away because you wanted to wait for him to wake up. 

When Ace finally woke up, he had no idea what had happened, and it took a moment for his brain to recover from its brief slumber. When he saw you with a cold plate, he immediately started apologizing. He thought he'd ruined your whole date. 

 You told him it wasn't his fault and that nothing happened. You just laughed it off, saying he could warn you sooner next time. You saw his face go all red and he mumbled something in response. 

Another memory you liked to recall was the moment you officially called him your boyfriend. 

You were just waiting for Ace at the docks where you were supposed to meet him when you got supplies. Everything was already loaded on the ship and you were just waiting for the phoenix. 

As you waited, a young man walked over to you and began to pay you one compliment after another. You politely refused him and tried to explain that you were waiting for someone, but he was insistent. He continued to shower you with compliments and even invited you to dinner. 

You were slowly running out of patience when Ace finally returned. He looked like he was in a hurry and when he finally saw you, he seemed relieved. 

"You're finally here," you smiled at him and kissed the edge of his mouth. As you did so, you saw the young man chuckle before walking away in defeat. 

"What was that for?" Ace asked, not understanding what was going on. Besides, after that kiss, his face was red as a crab and his wings were all aglow with excitement. 

"Just like that. Besides, what would I do without my boyfriend?" You smiled at him. 

"B-Boyfriend?" The phoenix stammered, completely taken aback, as if the word itself had given him pause. 

His reaction to that completely confused you, since you thought you'd been dating all this time. That is, ever since he asked you to dinner and where he first kissed you. 

"I thought we were dating..." you said weakly and uncomprehendingly. 

As soon as Ace heard your words, a proud smile spread across his face. He puffed out his wings, grabbed you around the waist and pulled you closer to him. 

"Of course we do. I'm glad you see it the same way," he smiled and nuzzled his nose against yours. 

The gesture touched you and you couldn't hold back and with the force of the moment you cupped his face and kissed him softly on the lips. 

When you pulled away, the phoenix had a dreamy look on his face, grinning from ear to ear, perhaps even redder than before and looking like it would make him completely melt like ice cream. 

You were cut out of your memories by the Marines who came to tell you that it was time for your execution. They put you in ordinary handcuffs and led you out. They claimed it was useless to put you in special restraints, since your ability could not endanger them or harm them or help you escape. 

You had to shade your eyes from the sun when they took you out into the courtyard. The fresh air was like a balm to your lungs and you would have preferred to sunbathe on the beach or sail on a boat. 

But that was just wishful thinking. The Marines pushed you to go forward to the execution. You stepped onto the platform and now you had to listen to the report and other necessary talk that you didn't think was important at all. Instead, you decided to take one last look through Ace's eyes. 

You closed your eyes and concentrated. When you opened them again, you could see the view of the sea from the air and a small island. You thought you could feel the wind in your cheeks because of it. 

Apparently it was heading towards the island in question, which was slowly approaching. As you focused more on the island, it seemed somehow familiar, but you couldn't remember why. 

Just as you realized why the island was familiar, you broke the connection and looked up to the sky, where you could see a glowing bird of some sort in the clouds that was rapidly approaching.

When you could clearly see that it was your Ace, you ducked as he was close enough to launch his fiery attack. Like a missile, he flew past you, creating a high wall of fire that now separated you from all enemies. 

"Ace!" You called out excitedly. You had no idea how he found you but you were grateful he was here. He landed next to you and simply burned away the handcuffs that held you. 

You had no idea how relieved you were to see him and to see you free. Or how hard you've been trying to be strong all this time. Before you could say anything, your knees buckled and Ace grabbed you to keep you from falling. It was only now that he noticed the bruises and wounds on your body from the torture, which was futile. You didn't tell them anything. 

Ace's face flickered with relief that he finally had you in his arms. Worrying about how your legs had buckled and how much you had to endure. Finally, anger appeared on his face. Anger at the Marines for hurting you. 

He almost set the whole island on fire out of anger. Or at least the entire Marine base. Nobody treats you like that. 

After that, he took you in his arms and flew you to his fleet, where you had your own ship. 

All the crew were thrilled to have you back among them. To have their captain back. But their excitement didn't last long as they noticed the state you were in. Instead, they tried to keep things running like clockwork and give you plenty of time to recover. 

Ace took you to your quarters to be treated. Being a Phoenix, it wasn't that hard. 

Once he made sure you didn't have a single scratch or bruise on you, anger appeared on his face. He was angry that he couldn't protect you better and prevent you from facing such torture in captivity. But you reassured him that it wasn't his fault and that he was the one who saved you.

Eventually, Ace allowed himself to be eased but you had to let him be at your every step now. He wasn't going to lose you again. 

After your imprisonment at the Marine base, you were tired and exhausted. And even though it was pleasantly warm outside, you had chills. Ace took you in his arms and covered you with his wings. He knew he'd keep you warm like this, and he wanted to hold you close as much as possible.  

He pulled you close and his wings acted as a nice warm blanket. You snuggled close to him and rested your head on his shoulder. You came in complete safety and within moments you fell asleep.

Ace Masterlist

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hey, just wondering if you could give us some insight into how the sleepy kitten cafe staff met Alan/got close to him/what they think of him. Also curious to see what all the bats think about cardinal. Did they ever meet in costume?

P.S: Keep up the good work!!

Of course!! I touched a little bit in "Jerry the Raccoon" but that was mostly Tim & Zeek (and it was not my best chapter- but I refuse to edit it for my own sanity)

Also so far? No. Cardinal manages to maintain a distance 24/7 with bats (almost as if hes tracking them during patrol- wild right??) But overall

Bruce is tearing his hair out, but admits they are useful and more effort than they're worth.

Babs adores them, and is on a mission to find them out and take them under her wing

Dick finds Bruce plight funny- but is kinda unnerved how similar Cardinal is to a talon in some ways. (also just creepy in general)

Jason "Game recognizes game" but wishes Cardinal would stop running so he could ask him more questions

Cass never gets close. But not bothered by them.

Steph thinks Cardinal is badass but keeps her distance, doesnt trust the vibes

Damien acts like he doesn't care about Cardinal (He so does, hes obsessed- lowkey fanboy behavior)

Alfred thinks its nice Bruce has someone else willing to deal with Gotham, who ISN'T under his nagging control. Theres some respect there.

NOW Sleepy Kitten fam backstory (as of rn, subject to change as lore provides)

Well Alan Draper (Originally Alvin) was a normal civillian persona Tim had- but in order to MAKE a persona, people need to know you. Otherwise it takes a quick asking around to realize you aren't who you say you are.

So when Tim was Fifteen or so Alan "moved to Gotham" from Chicago and started taking classes at Gotham University. He started showing up at the cafe out of pure convinence before Obi and Gwen worked there (officially)

Obi's dad had a run in with a rouge, got injured, and couldn't work both shifts. So they turned to part time student and began running the store. They'd gotten used to Alan hanging around and they talked on ocassion but mostly enjoyed silence when the other was working. Slowly but surely Tim grew to love being Alan- one of the few times he could be stress free anymore and yet not be so alone. And Obi dealing with the stress of taking over family buisness had one customer whose ever presence was comforting.

A few months pass and they consider each other pretty close friends to the point Alan had a spare key to the cafe in case of emergencies. Soon after some of the other staff quit and Obi opened applications- Gwen showed up, nervous as hell having never worked a day in her life and already applying to like ten other positions.

But Obi was desperate and soon enough Gwen was at the cafe just about every hour of the day and night. It got to the point where she would hang out even after her shift.

Then by pure forced proximity, Alan grew to love her company just as much as Obi- though in a way that forced him out of his shell just a bit.

It was clockwork of Alan, Gwen, and Obi all at the Sleepy Kitten on random day hours chatting away while working.

Events of the chapter transpire, with Alan showing up with this guy who 100% belongs in a gang, but Obi takes "minding their own buisness" HARD and trusts both Alan and Gwens opinions (Gwen who just saw sad guy and forced to help)

Now Obi has basically permenantly taken over the cafe, but still takes some art school classes on the side with some of the profits that don't go back into the cafe.

Gwen and Zeek have an apartment together in the far narrows since Gwen was desperate to move out, and Zeek was company and free security, who also needed a place. Apartment is just a block or so from the cafe too

Alan lives outside downtown but commutes often, works odd hours but whenever he is free, will set up in the cafe and enjoy the peace for a bit with his friends.

Long story short- they were coworker friends, except Alan refused to take a job literally ever.