#i miss him because i miss him not because he's dead or anything because he is very much alive just kinda late

[amya-da-dc]

Swing By-Batboys

Word Count: 1.1k

Characters: Dick Grayson , Jason Todd , Tim Drake , Damian Wayne , Duke Thomas

Summary: The batboys are on patrol when y/n calls to see if they’ll swing by her place once their done

A/N: First Batboys fic 🫣

Dick Grayson

Blüdhaven nights always buzzed. Even when the sky was still, the streets pulsed with light and life and the occasional petty crime.

Nightwing crouched on the edge of a rooftop, tuning out the sound of sirens and wind as his comm clicked

[Incoming Call: Cutie Patootie 🤩🫢]

He smiled instantly, ducking behind a chimney and answering with a smooth, “Well hey there, pretty girl.

Her voice was soft on the other end. “Hey. You busy?”

“Only if you count stopping a guy from stealing someone’s shoes as ‘busy.’” He rolled his eyes. “The thrilling life of crime-fighting.”

A pause. “Can you swing by after?”

He blinked. “Swing by?”

“Yeah. I dunno. I just… missed you today.”

Dick went quiet for a second. “Say less. Is there anything wrong?”

“No. I just… miss you.”

He exhales. “Miss you too.”

A grin tugged at his lips as he launched off the roof and into the night. “I’m bringing takeout. And cuddles. Possibly a bad movie. You’ve been warned.”

Jason Todd

Red Hood ducked behind a half-collapsed wall, bullets biting into the concrete just above his head.

He reloaded calmly, checked the position of the last three goons. One elbow and one gunpoint threat later, three grown men are reconsidering every life choice they’ve ever made.

He’s about to finish zip-tying the last guy when his phone buzzes in his chest pocket.

He almost ignored it—almost—but when he saw the name lighting up the screen, he sighed.

[Incoming Call: Trouble™ 💀]

He answers with a grunt. “What’s up?”

“Hi, baby,” you say sweetly. “Are you busy?”

Jason deadpans. “Currently kneeling on a guy named Kevin. So… moderately.”

You snort. “Well, when you’re done… will you swing by?”

Jason paused. The last guy lunged at him. He elbowed him in the face without looking back. “…Swing by?”

“Yeah. Just for a bit. If you’re not dead.”

“…You okay?” he mutters.

“Yeah,” you sigh dramatically. “Just miss my big personal heater.”

Jason looks down at Kevin. Kevin whimpers. “You’re lucky,” Jason tells him. “Because I just got better plans.”

He snorted, stepping over a moaning body. “Yeah, babe, I’ll be there. Gimme an hour, gotta handle clean up.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“Anytime.”

Tim Drake

Tim is halfway through a security breach at Gotham’s art museum—four silent alarms, three hacked drones, and a migraine blooming behind his eyes.

He doesn’t even register the buzzing until it’s the fourth vibration in his pocket.

[Incoming Call: Self-care Police ✋🏼]

His whole body untenses when he sees your name. He slips into a maintenance alcove, pulling off his hood for a moment.

“Hey,” He answered with a blink, rubbing his eyes.“Everything okay?”

“Just checking in,” you notice his whispering and consequently start whispering too. “Didn’t want to interrupt, but… will you swing by after?”

His brain goes into overdrive.

Did something happen? Did I miss a text? Are you upset? Am I being distant again?

You must hear the silence stretch, because you add, “Only if you want to.”

“Of course I want to.” He says so fast it may as well of been one word.

You laugh, tired and sweet. “Okay.”

“And your sure your okay?”

“Yeah. Just… wanted to hear your voice.”

Tim’s brain lagged two seconds behind his heart.

“You don’t have to stay long, I know your busy, just… I dunno. Night’s been weird. I miss you.”

Tim presses his back to the wall and exhales. “You know you could’ve just texted that and I’d be there as soon as I’m done with these goons.” Instead of making me panic, but he decides not to say that.

“I like your voice.”

He paused. Swallowed. “…I like yours too.”

He smiles, cheeks pink even in the dark. “You want anything on the way?”

“Just you,” you say. “But if you pass a place with cookies…”

“I’ll call Alfred,” he says. “Be there in an hour.” He tugs his hood back on, suddenly happier.

Damian Wayne

Robin crouched on a gargoyle overlooking Gotham’s financial district, eyes scanning for movement. The city glinted below like broken glass.

Red Robin and Spoiler are arguing over comms what pizza toppings are better when Damian’s phone buzzes.

[Incoming Call: Beloved 🫥]

He exhaled through his nose before answering.

“What is it?”

“I—hi to you, too.”

He frowned. “Apologies, Drake and Brown have been going at it for three hours. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, everythings fine- this isn’t a bad time right?”

“Theres never a bad time for you, beloved. Besides its been a quiet night, well in terms of crime anyway.”

“Oh cool…I just… was wondering if you might stop by after patrol.”

Silence.

“…You are requesting my presence?”

You blinked on the other end. “I mean, I’m not summoning you with a blood seal, Damian. I just miss you.”

“…I shall arrive at two.”

“Oh. That’s—specific.”You pause. “…You sure? I don’t want to bother you…”

Damian scowls. “Do not insult me with foolish questions.”

You smile into the phone. “Okay, okay. I just—missed you today.”

He shifts, tone softening. “I missed you as well.”

“You did?” you tease.

“I’m hanging up now.”

You laugh. “Okay. I’ll leave the light on.” A soft smile bloomed on your face. “Bye, Dami.”

“See you soon, beloved.”He hung up, still staring out over the city but now, with a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Duke Thomas

Signal was leaning against the side of a building, his golden armor reflecting the moonlight. Red Robin had wanted Signal to cover him tonight, so thats what he was doing. Was he regretting being conscious right now? Maybe, but who was he to say no?

He was about to follow some thugs below him when his phone pings.

[my sunshine 😮‍💨]: hey if you’re not doing anything after, can you come by?

He quickly looks at the text before dropping down below, beating the guys as fast as he can. The second he’s done he pulls out his phone and reads the text again, before hitting the call button.

“Yo!” he says as soon as you pick up, chipper as ever. “Are you ok?”

“I just wanted to know if you could swing by after patrol.”

A pause, and faraway shouts can be heard. “Hang on. Hold please—”

There’s the sound of grunting, a thud, “—okay, now that guy’s not going anywhere,” he says casually, like he didn’t just knock someone out cold. “Anyway. Swing by? Absolutely. What’s up?”

“Nothing really,” she admits. “I just… miss you.”

“I’ll be there in 10.” Duke doesn’t say anything else for a second.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I love that you called.”

“I love that you answered.” He clears his throat, Then his voice comes back soft, golden as streetlight. “I’ll bring that sandwich you like. Want anything else?”

“Just you.”

“Baby,” he says dramatically. “You’re gonna make me trip on my own ego.”

“Be safe.”

“Aren’t I always? See you soon.”

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##07

James Potter x f!muggle!reader word count: 1,126 warnings: none? i think a/n: I'm ashamed again bc this took so long but the next one is half done-ish? I'm so sorry its been a month series masterlist main masterlist

Talking with James while your brother stayed with you was almost like you were fifteen again, whispering to the phone at the dead of night. 

“When will you be leaving?”

“Thursday, be back Monday, I think… We were planning on spending a day just sightseeing, too.” You hummed in acknowledgment. “If I find a phone box, I’ll ring.”

“Will you?” You picked at the polish on your nails, the neutral pink quickly peeling. You bit your cuticle.

“Of course,” Of course, he would. Because he always did. James called almost every day, even if it was a ten-minute call in the dead of night, and very rarely did you have to call first. But you did, some days when you didn’t hear anything, you’d call. 

You’d call and pace, the fidgeting moving to biting the skin of your lips. When the ringing was long, you’d start pacing, sometimes you’d even call twice. 

It was very rare that someone didn’t answer. 

Sometimes you’d hear Sirius’s teasing grin through the phone, like he knew who would be calling. He’d vaguely talk about James’s whereabouts, always adding some question you never had an answer to.

“What are your intentions with my James?”

“How do you really feel about him?”

“Do you want to marry him, hm? Only the best for him, you know.”

You’d often just hang up on the boy, with a roll of your eyes.

James would answer more often than not, with a grin that was audible through his words and a sweet “miss me?” rolling off his tongue.

But by now, it had been a day without James already, which had been harder to get through than you were willing to admit. You loved talking to him on the phone, even when he would accidentally hang up and curse at the telephone when he fell asleep, and when he asked weird common-sense questions.

You sat on the open trunk of the little red car you borrowed from a friend; the lengths you’d go to for your brother were tested daily. But you found in the end… You didn’t actually mind, the thought of how stupid it all was, how long the trip would be, and how much you did not want to do this went away as he came down the stairs of your building. Your brother’s bag wildly flew and bounced against his back as he ran down, a wide smile on his face.

It was worth it, you thought, to see him smile like that.

“Are you ready?” You pulled yourself up so he could throw the bag in the trunk, and closed it firmly.

“More than ready, I’m so excited this is insane- have I told you how much I love you?”

“Not enough, I fear,” you said with a laugh

“Well I do, this is insane! this is so exciting! Aren’t you excited!!” He rambled on, bordering on nonsensical, 

“If you are then I am” you smiled at him, sweetly, he mirrored it back. You often forgot, he was still a kid. 16 isn’t very old.

To be fair 20 wasn’t either.

You didn’t know what Quidditch was. Well, yes you knew it was a sport, and your brother spent the next hour painstakingly explaining every aspect of the sport and how exciting the whole thing was. The brooms, the snitch, the adrenaline of it all. 

You’d be lying if part of you didn’t long for it, the magic, the thrill of living in a world that was so fantastical. Even after five years, the amazement of it all hadn’t faded for your brother. He’d come running to you every summer break with stories you would have never believed had you not seen him accidentally perform magic as a child. Many dolls floated in your bedroom for years, and food would often disappear from your plate and come back into his.

But after years, the jealousy settled. The fear of being left out diminished until it was just a wee little thing that dropped to the bottom of your heart like sediment, only to come out on the worst of nights. You relished in your mundane routines, your scarce excitements, and the occasional dead-ended romance. It was better than resentment and jealousy, you knew that well. You were happy for him; at least he would live a fantastical life. Besides, one day, after he was of age, you’d get to start asking him for little magical favors.

That’s what siblings are for anyway.

-

“Be very careful do you hear me?” You held your brother's face with one hand, his eyes darted to the side where he could see his friends. You squeezed his cheeks harder, so he’d look at you. “I’m serious, I can’t get you out of a magical issue do you understand? You’d be on your own and I need you to watch your back”

“I know-”

“You always know,” you squeezed again playfully, “I’m just trying to make sure you understand.” There were various groups of people walking around the forest, clearly all leaving from the same spot; however, it worked. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever, Mom,” he replied, exaggerated and dramatic. He hugged you immediately after, tightly, almost clawing at your back. “I’ll be careful, thank you”

“Love you”

“I love you too,” he quickly left, running to his friends and the very exhausted father followed behind. You didn’t leave just yet, the curiosity getting the better of you. you strolled lightly behind, itching closer to where everyone seemed to head. They very obviously were taking advantage of the darkness created by the array of trees, everyone seemed normal, maybe a wacky hat here or there, but your brother had described most traditional wizard wear like that anyway. You could see a group of older boys approach your brother’s, excitement in their voices. You couldn’t truly discern their faces but you could almost hear their words, but regardless, they sounded more than familiar with each other, the conversation warm with affection. Pats on the back, smirks on faces, now you knew where your brother had gotten his newfound grin from. 

And then you heard it, the laugh. Loud and robust, you heard it as it bounced off the trees, as it ricocheted off the forest floor. You knew that laugh. You’d recognize it for miles. You thought of it often, its echoes resounding in your dreams. A laugh that felt like a warm summer day, even in the coldness of the forest. It struck your heart in ways you could not truly explain, and you felt the weight of it sink to the pit of your stomach. 

You heard that laugh every day through the phone. 

You’d know James Potter’s laugh even if you heard it from miles away.

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda @nahhhwhatthefrick @notapoetjustscar @hiireadstuff @the-rat-king1902 @n1ght-vngel @littlewhitel1es @rreporterbby @santaasi @myheroworldandanimes @whimsical-mistakes @lalalandincraz @2dloveshp @loveyouprongs @beepboopcowboy @fiowerbeds @kneelforloki @noonenuts @urblondiebaby @cherry-cin @pprettyvisitorr @laniirackssss @abhootghiihii @sodavrr @berryhobi @that-b-word-lol

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

let me know if you want to be tagged in any future chapters!

[mullermilkshake]

Regrets

Part 31 <- Part 32 -> Part 33

Jong-in and Hae-in are left at a stand still after Jinwoo's rightfully explosive exit. Without you, who is there to calm the storm?

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x New mom!reader Tags - Jong-in x Hae-in, Dilf!Jong-in, New mom!Hae-in, Depictions of Blood/Death, Angst,

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers. And please refer to the master tag list for the full list of tags + major tags, I'm updating it where I can.

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

Is it just me who thinks Jong-in is still a Dilf? 😂

Jong-in waited for Jinwoo to leave before slipping back into the hospital room where Hae-in stood by your body. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was here, but no one ever showed or revealed themselves. So he let it slide.

You were dead and Jong-in couldn’t believe it.

“How is this happening?” She said, holding In-ho close to her chest, eyes tearful and wet.

“I… I don’t know.”

He wanted to get close, to see you properly, to clean you up with dignity. His body did not allow it, it halted where he stood like Jinwoo’s condition created a physical barrier around you.

You were dead, and he wasn't sure if Jinwoo knew that fully.

Jong-in never said goodbye, he never came in to congratulate you on the twins who were missing.

I should have listened to Hae-in… I should have done more. I've never been more useless than I was today.

He did not believe for a second that the association was capable of this, of such cruelty. Snatching children from their mothers arms like Chairman Go previously mentioned, then rescinded. Was he actually behind this? He looked to Jinwoo like a son, a child protégée he never had despite Jong-in's public nickname. And then to order your murder? You were dead. Gone. Vanished out of existence.

In-ho was safe. His son. His little boy. But Jong-in didn’t feel one ounce of relief, not while your body laid on a hospital bed with more blood outside of your body than in it, and two newborn babies without their mother, their father. Alone and vulnerable.

Perhaps it was because of his paternal instincts kicking in the moment In-ho was born. Seeing his little tufts of blonde hair like his mothers, his grey eyes matching Jong-in’s like a cute little pair. He was perfect. 

And he shamefully had another child on the way.

Another shameful issue for another time. It wasn't how he saw his life heading.

The twins would be perfect too, no doubt. He’d know that when Jinwoo brought them back to your side.

“Take him, I’m going to clean her up.” 

Hae-in handed In-ho to him, being the most lucid she’d been in weeks. She waddled over to the sink and found a sponge in the little cupboard underneath, picking up a fallen bowl and filling it with what she could.

You didn’t look peaceful at all, never seeming like you were sleeping either, not like other hunters who’d perished would have. Your brows were furrowed, like you were laying in pain that medication couldn't fix, hair knotted and sticky on whatever skin it could find and cling to.

Still, you were beautiful. That would never change.

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Hae-in said, her lip trembling awaiting an answer she probably wasn’t sure she’d want the answer to.

She was right. Mostly.

“I uh…” Jong-in was taken aback.

He did. But he didn’t.

“To be honest? I never got the chance to.” He sat down in the chair in the corner, cuddling In-ho close to his chest. “I have these feelings and never acted on them... I uh... Well I always thought I wasn't good enough, despite everyone's view of me. So I decided to never do anything about it.”

Up until In-ho’s birth, Jong-in found himself thinking about what his life would have been like if he’d been paired with you. It wasn’t that he regretted his path with Hae-in and in honesty, he wished the association hadn’t pressured him to make more children.

He was happy being a dad and partner to one person. But it didn’t stop him thinking about you. In respect, he never even entertained pursuing anything, taking Jinwoo’s feeling’s into account.

Jinwoo was in love with you, that much was obvious before today, the engagement, even before you fell pregnant. You were just that oblivious.

Just like you were oblivious to Jong-in too, even when his excitement and disappointment was barely contained before and after the results came in.

Not that it mattered anymore…

"She was so hot headed, always trying to stand up for what she believed in. She would have made a great mother. I don't really know how Jinwoo will cope."

“Oh… Right.”

Hae-in sponged you down respectfully and started taking off the dried flakes of blood and grime off of your hands. Your body still slumped, still loose.

How long before she starts going stiff? Fuck, what must be going through Jinwoo's mind right now? What's going through mine?

“But, I love you, Hae-in. I know that much, and I'd like to make a go of things if you'd have me too. Once my second child is born, I’m stopping this. I’m not letting the association push me into any more decisions, not when I’d like to stay with you.”

"You love me..." She hesitated. Mouth closed. Then open. “Do you love her too?”

The other Hunter Jong-in slept with was someone he wasn’t keen on, she was in lack of a better word, high maintenance. Not meaning she wanted Jong-in’s attention, just the attention that came with his presence, like a massive human sized pawn. Jong-in attended appointments with her and nothing else. She kept to her own social circle and pretty much pulled him out for special occasions like a toy doll for company or fine china.

Jong-in, the ultimate hunter, pregnant with his baby.

Like he was even ultimate any more. He did nothing today to prove it when he should have pushed through his exhaustion, and did everything he could to protect his child instead of relying o someone else to do it. So fucking weak.

Hae-in was nothing like that, she didn't expect much form him in terms of his presence or social ability. She had poise, dignity, and Jong-in had ignored her ‘paranoia’ and it led to this. 

“No. She doesn’t feel anything for me either despite how she is during our public appearances.” 

She shook her head slowly, processing something, wiping your face down and ridding your skin of blood and red. “I’m not sure how I feel, Jong-in. My pregnancy was so difficult, I never felt seen.”

He disagreed like he was trying to make himself believe it more. “I saw you. I did. I do. The association have their way of getting under your skin, that doctor- the facility drummed it into me that you were just having a funny turn. I never thought anyone would be capable of stealing children away.”

“What if they come back? Or they take In-ho in the middle of the night when we’re sleeping? I can’t sleep knowing that.”

There was only one solution that Jong-in could think of that made logical sense and get out of the associations back pocket for good. “We move, we get out of here with In-ho and we leave the city- no, the country, if you want to.”

“What about your other child?” Hae-in moved closer to Jong-in on the other side of the bed to clean your other arm.

“She wouldn’t let me have full custody. I doubt she’d even want me around at all, not if I’m halfway somewhere else. She'd probably make it difficult, but I'll still try for some sort of a relationship. If not, then I’ll support her from afar and do my duty as the baby's father, but this is where my family is, in this room.”

Hae-in continued cleaning you, standing weak in the poorly strung hospital gown. “You really love me?”

“I do.”

It seemed like the best type of love, one that grew with time from nothing, a seed in the grown given enough love and care that bloomed into something beautiful. The love he felt for Hae-in versus you was entirely different. With you, it was almost instantaneous, and still he never had time to get to know you more like he wanted to. He learned little things about Have-in he never did with you. Her favourite colour was red. She did this little nose wiggle before she sneezed. And she was entirely more sensitive to sad films than she ever let on.

In the end, Jong-in was where he was supposed to be. With Hae-in. Just part of him didn't want to let you go even though he never had you in the first place, even your friendship fizzled out because it was just never meant to be.

It would take time, but he'd grieve it.

Have-in sniffled, cleaning your body with brief pauses to compose herself. “I can’t believe she’s dead… Jinwoo, he loved her too, and he’ll never get to again. How did this happen? His babies are missing. What if they were taken like In-ho almost was but he can’t ever get them back? He'll never be the same again.”

Jong-in would carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life, begging Jinwoo to help him and it put his own children’s safety at risk. Now they were missing and Jinwoo stepped into a war path he might not ever come back from.

Useless. That was the only word he could come up with. 

Useless. 

“How can he come back from this? I always saw the way he looked at her, he worshipped the ground she walked on. He was so intense, around her, but he looked at her with a softness I’ve never seen before. I think she was the love of his life... he's never looked at anyone else like that... and s-she's gone.”

Jong-in knew that look. “I know exactly what you mean. His intensity. Sometimes I noticed how he looked at me like he wanted to beat me up.” He chuckled sadly, knowing full well if Jinwoo did go for him, it wasn’t just a quick fight Jinwoo wanted, it would be blood.

Any blood.

All blood.

Someone to answer for your murder. 

Someone killed you, clearly. It wasn’t like you fell on something by accident and just died. Any idiot could see you were murdered.

“Jinwoo doesn’t want me around and I understand completely, but if there’s anything I can do to help find who did this, I’ll do everything I can. I’ll use the guild’s power and connections if I have to. Maybe the other guilds might help?”

“We’re in it deep, Jong-in... aren’t we?” 

Hae-in straightened your hospital gown and pulled the thin, and no doubt scratchy sheet over your lower half until the majority of the blood was covered. She placed your hands in a respectful overlap and softly stroked your hair as thought you really were sleeping.

Jong-in couldn’t even pretend. He couldn’t look at you for more than a few seconds without losing his breath.

“Yeah…” He nodded slowly. “We are. And I don’t know who to trust.”

The people he did trust were either storming off down the hill, dead, or hours postpartum. The list was small, thinning out and their lack of presence lately had Jong-in even doubting Baek, Tae-gyu and Dongwook’s positions on this.

“What do we do, Jong-in?”

“We do the best we can with what we’ve got. But no one is taking our child away from us, not again.”

Part 31 <- Part 32 -> Part 33

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work, thank you!

[yinyuedijun]

phainon wip snippet that i may or may not delete

posting this at @nazberry-icecream's request. I will be real with you guys I drafted this while drunk/high last night and I'm not sure what to do with it because it's. good in some places but it's also incredibly bad in others and the canon accuracy is questionable. I'm not sure if it's salvageable SLKDFJLJSDf

canon context: bath tub is from this event

divider credit: @/cafekitsune

Phainon realizes that he’s in love with you at age nineteen, on the day he catches you running through Marmoreal Palace in nothing but a towel and pair of wet slippers. You're waving at him, calling his name, your skin still damp with bathwater and a sunlit smile stretched across your face. For a minute, he thinks he’s hallucinating—dreaming, probably, though usually his dreams about you wearing next to nothing aren’t nearly so ridiculous—but the way you grip him by the shoulders feels too real to be a fantasy.

The way you wheeze and cough at him, too.

“I’ve found you a birthday present,” you say, and he can tell from your voice that you’re dead serious.

“Oh,” he replies. He can't think of anything else to say when confronted with the image of you panting and holding onto him in nothing but a towel.

“I need to give it to you now,” you tell him.

He blinks. Then laughs. “Now?”

“Now.”

“You don’t want to put on clothes first?”

“I don’t need to have clothes on to give this to you.”

Alright. Phainon must be dreaming. There is no way in his real, actual life that you’d ever give him a present while intentionally this close to being naked. But he plays along with his incredibly shameful dream and laughs, “Sure.”

You’re excited to show him whatever you’ve found. Coming up with a birthday present for him is your worst nightmare, and one you struggle with every year. It makes me feel like a bad friend, you always moan. But I can’t ever think of anything good. You never want anything.

Phainon gives you suggestions each year, rattling them off in a list that never satisfies you. I could always use a new sword, he’d said, and you’d replied, I’m not going to get you something for your work. Then he tried, New armor could be nice, and you’d whined and replied, That’s what Aglaea wanted for you—she hates your sense of style, you know. As a last resort, he’d said, It would be nice to go to that new Aurelian restaurant together, and this time you’d scowled: That’s where I wanted to go! You don't even like Aurelian cuisine! And you always pay the bill when I’m not looking whenever we go out to eat—how am I supposed to let you pay for your own birthday meal!

Pretty easily, he’d replied cheerfully. All you have to do is sit there while I go pay.

You’d groaned.

Your birthday is about you! What do you want?! What would you like?!

“I like seeing you happy,” he always answers, smiling brightly—because it always gets you flustered, and he rather likes that too.

You think he's being insincere. You accuse him of being a terrible flirt, which he finds unfair, because he’s not flirting—he really does just like seeing you happy. He likes seeing you glow, kicking your feet and grinning in a way he’d have never been able to imagine back in the refugee camp. He was worried, for a long time, that you’d always be as miserable as the way you were back then. That you’d never want to eat. That you’d never want to talk. That you’d starve to death in silence, forever caught in the grip of the Flame Reaver—torn apart like the rest of Aedes Elysiae.

That Phainon would fail to protect you, the way he’d failed everyone else back home.

But you’d healed, eventually. Mostly. Sometimes Phainon catches you in moments of melancholy, a distance between you that he can’t figure out how to traverse. Catches you thinking about home, and your family, and all the other things you miss. He’ll give them back to you one day—you’ll see them all again when he ushers in the Era Nova, and he’ll be able to see you smile like never before—but it’ll be a long time until then. It’ll be a long time before he can deliver this wish of yours.

He guesses that it’s enough seeing you like this for now, though: beaming as you drag him through the palace, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the marble underneath you. You lead him into the bath house, and he’s so endeared that he plays along without even questioning it. More than happy to humour whatever’s got you bouncing with so much excitement.

He also plays along because he really wants to see the rest of this dream. He has high expectations for its course: you’re holding his hand, dragging him into a bath, wearing nothing but a flimsy little towel. It's clear where this is going.

But then it doesn’t go there.

You let go of Phainon’s hand, and you don’t drag him into the water, and you keep your towel on. Instead, you lead Phainon to a very old, very plain tub—a lacklustre sight in comparison to you—and gesture at it.

“Here,” you say smugly.

He stares. “You’re giving me a used bathtub?”

“I’m giving you a treasure. This old thing is made out of Sacred Tree Wood—can you believe it? I thought the attendant was full of it when she told me, but I inspected it and I’m pretty sure it’s the genuine article.”

“Huh,” Phainon says, still too distracted by the sight of you to really pay attention to any bathtub, sacred or not. You mistake this for fascination.

“Take a look for yourself,” you insist. “It’s most obvious if you look at the detailing inside the tub—here, let me show you—”

You climb into the tub, and your towel stays on, and you really do just show him all the characteristics of the wood hinting at its origins. Phainon can’t fathom it. He’s probably been spending too much time appraising antiques with Theodoros, and now his hobby’s invaded his favourite dreams. He needs to get another pastime.

He plays along anyway: “Sure,” he says, crouching down to peer at its make, his lips curled into a smile. “I'll take a look.”

Twenty minutes later, his eyes have gone wide and his jaw has gone slack. He lifts the bathtub with his bare hands and carries it out of the bath house, making a beeline to Theodoros’ shop—with you and a frazzled bath attendant in tow. You’re practically bouncing on your heels as Phainon receives his certificate of authenticity—and then you balk when he asks Theodoros how much he’ll get when he sells it.

You give him a betrayed look. “Are you really going to re-sell my gift?! I thought I'd finally found something you'd like!”

“I did like it,” he says. “And I’m going to sell it. I enjoy finding and appraising treasures, but I never really hang onto them. There are always better places for them to go.”

You give him a sullen look. “So you didn't like my gift.”

“No,” he says gently. “I loved it. This was a lot of fun, but it’d be a waste for me to actually keep a relic like this. It belongs in a place like Theodoros’ collection, where everyone can see it.”

You frown, clearly dissatisfied. “Then what kind of gift would you keep?”

Phainon shrugs. “There’s nothing I really need,” he answers truthfully, and the noise you make is so comical in its frustration that he realises instantly that this isn’t a dream. Despite the remarkable ability of his subconscious to recreate your body down to the most minute details (Phainon pays a great deal of attention to it in his waking hours, after all), it’s not that great at capturing your funnier idiosyncrasies. That scowl of yours—along with your long-time obsession with finding him the perfect birthday gift—can only be the genuine article.

He understands now that all of this is real. And because it is real, so too must be his desire to kiss you.

Phainon wants to grab you by the shoulders and kiss you in the middle of Marmoreal Market in his real, actual life; and he also wants to take you to the theatre and give you gifts and court you properly in his real, actual life; and he also wants to take you home and watch his parents fawn over you in his real, actual life. Because they’d have adored you. They’d have been excited about you. They’d have invited you over for suncakes and venison every night, and they’d have had you over for Oronyx prayers, and they’d have cried during his wedding with you. It was one of their biggest wishes for him to find someone nice and marry them properly, after all—and he can’t imagine anyone nicer than you.

They’d have loved you.

And they will love you some day, when he collects the last coreflame and delivers all of humanity into Era Nova. They’ll love you just like in all his dreams.

[yumyumcherryy]

yearned.

you were stretched out across the couch, one leg half-hanging off the edge, face buried in a pillow, phone loosely in hand as some low-volume playlist murmured through the speaker.

you weren’t expecting rin home so soon—training usually dragged, but maybe today had been a little more brutal than usual, because suddenly, the front door slammed shut.

hard.

you lifted your head sluggishly, barely getting the chance to call out his name before—

thump.

a weight crashed over your midsection, and you let out a soft “oomph” as itoshi rin collapsed on top of you, limbs heavy and sprawling like a tree felled by its own exhaustion. his head buried itself onto your stomach, his arms winding possessively around your waist like some clingy, brooding sea creature.

“...hi to you too,” you mumbled through a chuckle, free hand instinctively sinking into his hair, fingers finding the familiar soft tufts and green-streaked strands.

he grunted.

that was his version of “hello.”

you didn't say anything else—just let your fingers move gently, twisting and curling little locks of his hair around them, occasionally letting your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. it was grounding. comforting. for him, especially.

he sighed. deeply. the kind that made your shirt flutter a little where his cheek was pressed.

“i hate everyone,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled and low.

you smiled. “oh?”

“mhm.” another sigh. “practice was a mess. bachira wouldn’t shut up, isagi kept doing this thing where he’d tell me to ‘relax more’—like i don’t know how to f*cking relax—and don’t even get me started on the drills. a bunch of barely functioning cones with legs. my passes were clean, mine, but apparently they can’t keep up. whose fault is that, really?”

“you sound very relaxed right now,” you teased softly, carding your fingers through the back of his hair.

“i am relaxed. that’s because i’m here.”

your heart fluttered, but you tried not to let it show. “oh? that’s all it takes?”

“no. you. just you.”

and then, like it was nothing, he buried his face further into your stomach and��inhaled.

you froze.

it wasn’t the first time. you’d noticed it before—this subtle pause whenever his face was pressed against your shirt. the way his lashes would lower, nose nudging just enough, like he was trying to pretend it was absentminded. but you knew better.

“…did you just sniff me?” you asked, amused, one brow arched.

“no,” he replied instantly, so quickly it became obvious. a dead giveaway.

“riiinn,” you sang, voice lilting with a knowing smirk.

he groaned. his grip on you tightened, face now actively burrowing into your shirt like an ostrich. “don’t make it weird.”

“you made it weird.”

“you just…you smell nice. like you. and home. and not that dumb locker room.”

you grinned. he always got a little more unfiltered when tired—edges softened, tongue looser, heart a little louder.

another pause.

“i missed you today,” he muttered.

your hand stilled, then resumed its slow strokes. “you saw me this morning.”

“still missed you.”

your stomach twisted—not from his weight, but from the way he said it. so quietly. like it was a secret he only allowed himself to admit when curled over you like this, when his armor had been wrung out of him by drills and teammates and expectations.

you leaned down just a little, lips brushing his temple. “i missed you too.”

his arms tensed around your waist at that—briefly, like a reflex—and then relaxed, like he’d just let go of some invisible tension. he turned his face to the side, resting it fully against you, ear pressed against your ribs like he wanted to listen to the way your body worked. the way your heart responded to him.

you could feel it thudding harder under his cheek.

“don’t go anywhere,” he mumbled.

“i’m not,” you said softly.

he hummed, satisfied. another deep breath—definitely another sniff, but you let it slide this time.

minutes passed. just the ambient music, the soft sighs, the occasional quiet grumble when he remembered something else irritating from practice.

“you know,” you mused lazily, “if you keep coming home like this, one of these days you’re gonna fall asleep on me and drool on my shirt.”

“i don’t drool.”

“you totally do.”

“i don’t.” his voice was a little sharper now, the embarrassment clear even through the exhaustion. but he didn’t move. just shifted slightly—head lower, face now angled almost against your lower stomach, lips barely grazing the hem of your shirt.

you felt his breath there. warm. too warm.

his fingers flexed slightly around your waist. you stilled.

“…rin?”

his voice dropped, low and sleep-rough and barely above a whisper. “you’re dangerous when you wear this shirt.”

“…what?”

he didn’t answer. instead, he tilted his face just enough to kiss your hipbone through the fabric. just a brush, soft and lazy and slow—but it sent heat creeping up your spine anyway.

you swallowed.

he chuckled—actually chuckled, and you felt the vibration of it against you.

“you think i didn’t notice you wearing my shirt?” he murmured, lifting his head just slightly so he could meet your eyes.

shit. you didn’t think he’d catch that.

“i—it was just comfy—!”

“and it smells like me. you like that, huh?”

he was smirking now. tired, sure—but smug. mischievous. his hand slid just a little up your side, thumb rubbing slow, absent circles against your ribs under the hem.

you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice even. “you’re the one who just nuzzled me like a cat and sniffed me like a bouquet.”

“because you smell good.”

“because i smell like you.”

“exactly.”

you swatted at him gently, but he just caught your wrist and kissed your palm, dragging it back to his head.

“keep playing with my hair,” he said, voice thick and laced with heat now. “i’ll pass out if you stop.”

“you’re so demanding when you’re exhausted.”

“you like it.”

…yeah. you did.

you didn’t say anything—just let your fingers tangle through his green-tinted strands again, massaging his scalp, and watched as his eyes fluttered half-shut. the quiet stretched on, but not heavy—just warm. tangled limbs and pressed bodies and the shared knowledge that this moment was the safest place either of you had all day.

but then, just as you thought he was drifting—

“…you’re still wearing nothing underneath this shirt, right?”

“rin—”

he smirked again—barely, lazily, with one eye cracked open just enough to see the way your cheeks flushed.

“…told you. dangerous.”

p.s: HSHUSHUS MUHEHEHEHEHE 😉 hehe do u guys like the new pink? i might change my theme to pink idk but pink and red looks so cute as headers of font colors

@twijaxx

@cerb3ruxii since u like fluff ;p

[kerosenee-kisses]

All That You Desire | Sylus LADS

Summary: Not only would Sylus do just about anything for you...he’d let you do just about anything to him.

cw: MDNI, footjobs whoops, oral sex(giving + receiving), fingering, nipple play, restraints (lite), Sylus is so lover boy

wc: 3.8k

a/n: throwing this onto the dash like a grenade. I don't normally care about foot stuff but Sylus really brought it out of me. I just like how much he likes being desired by MC, it's so cute.

This one is for the fellow night owls!! Rather fitting considering Sylus is nocturnal. It is kind of late for me to be posting but I was so excited to share as soon as I finished. I'm really proud of this one because I was doubting myself when it came to capturing his voice. I think I ultimately did a good job. Hope you enjoy!

banner by @cafekitsune!

It’s turning out to be a peaceful night by N109 Zone standards. You find yourself enjoying dinner with Sylus–at an appropriate hour no less–after a tiny scuffle at an auction and a not so tiny encounter with a hoard of wanderers. The pair of you were so in sync, however, that the fight was over in the blink of an eye. One resonation later, and you were on your way home for some much-needed quality time together.  

As you indulge in the delicious, tender scallops his chef prepared for your entree, you’re reminded that it’s been far too long since you and Sylus could just...be. Exist in the gentle tug of each other’s orbit. It’s a heartwarming feeling. 

“What are you so giddy about, hm?” he asks. 

“Just happy to be spendng time with my favorite guy,” you say.  

His smile grows wide at your candor. He takes your hand in his and kisses it. “It’s been far too long since I last saw you. I’m glad we were able to remedy that tonight.” 

“Oh, did the big, bad leader of Onychinus miss me?” you ask. 

“More than you know.” 

Your face flares with heat. You love it when he’s sweet with you like this. 

There’s a loud knock on the double doors at the opposite end of the ornate dining room. Luke pops his head in and waits for Sylus's gesture for him to come forward. 

“This the one you wanted, Boss?” Luke asks as he slinks over to Sylus, a bottle of red wine in hand.  

Sylus takes the bottle from him and inspects the label, yellowed with age. “Ah, yes, a beautiful vintage. This will pair nicely with the scallops.” 

Luke takes his leave, not before giving you two thumbs up behind Sylus’s back. You don’t think anyone roots for your relationship more than him and Kieran. 

Sylus summons a wine key with his evol and opens the bottle gracefully, like he’s putting on a show for you. You even clap once he pours a bit into his glass to sample. 

“Did you like that, sweetie?” He laughs as he swirls the wine in his glass and brings it up to his nose. He sighs at the scent of the alcohol, then drinks what little he poured. 

“I seem to like everything you do these days,” you say as he fills your glass. “And to think I once wanted you dead. Life is funny that way, isn’t it?” 

Sylus laughs only once, devoid of any humor. “Hilarious.” 

“What are we toasting to?” you ask. 

“To us.” He lifts his now full glass; you raise yours to meet his with a soft clink. “We’ve come a long way if you can sit at my table and not shoot me in the heart.” 

“Heyyy, that’s not fair. You told me too!” 

“I do admit, I did provoke you. But you did ultimately pull the trigger.” 

“Let’s return to our meal. Chef didn’t work so hard just for the scallops to get cold.” 

You catch Sylus up on what’s been going on in your life lately. Your schedules have been so misaligned for the past few weeks that you haven’t had much time for phone calls. Just the occasional texts saying, ‘I love you’ and ‘Don’t forget to eat’. You nearly talk his ear off as you devour two servings of scallops, much to Chef’s and Sylus’s mutual appreciation.  

He is very clearly in good spirits, your beau. He is all too happy to keep your glass full, and before you know it, the bottle is empty and you’re a little tipsy.  

“Shall I have Luke fetch another bottle?” Sylus asks as you're served lemon tarts for dessert.  

“You just want to get me drunk,” you whine. 

“I don’t hear you complaining about that.” 

Luke returns with two white wine glasses and a bottle of Riesling.  

“I’m having such a nice evening with you. I love it when we can spend time together, just us two,” you say. 

Sylus tilts his head at you slightly, his eyes soft as they meet yours. He feeds you some of his lemon tart, a beautiful smile decorating his face. 

“And I love you,” he says sweetly. “Time spent with you... there’s nothing better.” 

“I love you, too. I want to hang out with you all day, every day. I only wish I could.” 

“There’s a simple solution to that problem, as you already know.” 

“Working for an underground crime syndicate isn’t high up on my list of priorities. As you already know.” 

“Why not move this conversation to the parlor sweetie?” Sylus asks, your hand in his, as it had been for most of the evening. You hiccup your agreement, and he chuckles softly at the sound. 

Sylus takes a seat on one of the luxurious chesterfield couches and gestures to the place beside him. You drop into it with a long, drawn-out sigh. You settle against the arm of the couch and rest your bare feet on his lap. He easily takes one of them into his hands to give you a massage. You practically melt into the couch; the relief you feel is unparalleled. 

You’ve never felt quite so safe as you do with Sylus. An insane sentiment considering how much you used to loathe him. Like ‘wish for his slow, painful death’ level loathing. Thinking of that now makes you a bit embarrassed. But at least you’ve come to love and appreciate him now. Who else would so dutifully rub your feet until you’re reduced to a puddle of relaxation? 

The combination of the wine and the massage is amazing for relaxing all your muscles. Especially your tongue. 

“Mmm Sy,” you say as you nudge his thigh with your free foot. “Would you ever let me tie you up?” 

He chuckles as he carefully places one foot back into his lap and reaches for the other. He presses his thumbs into the sole, and you practically purr in satisfaction. 

“Of course I would. No matter how outrageous your ideas kitten, you know I’ll always indulge you.” 

You raise your eyebrows slightly. “You think that’s outrageous?” 

Sylus smirks at you. “Not in the slightest.” 

“Is that so? If that’s the case, then there is something else that I’ve always wanted to try…” You trail off once you notice Mephisto, perched on one of the ornate lamps behind Sylus. Where did he even come from? 

“Mephie, get out of here. Shoo!” 

Mephisto lets out a chorus of squawks that you’re sure is his version of cursing you out. 

“Easy kitten, let him be.” 

The crow flies off his perch only to assume a new one on the opposite arm of the sofa. His head is quirked in that way you can’t stand. You lurch forward to grab him, but he flies away with another loud, taunting squawk, the sound amplified by Sylus’s own laughter as he grabs you and sits you on his lap.  

“Ignore Mephisto for now. Your energy is better suited for telling me what it is that you desire.” 

“There! These are pretty good knots if you ask me.” You test the restraints on his wrists that keep him tethered to the posts of his massive bed. “I deserve a kitty badge for my hard work.” 

Sylus sits up against the headboard, arms spread wide. He’d removed his shirt at your request, but he still dons his starchy jeans. 

You, however, are completely naked before him. He drinks in the sight of you like he did the wine at dinner. Appreciative. Intoxicated. 

“You’re being so docile,” you say as you lightly scratch your nails down his pec. “I really like that.” 

Sylus pins you with a sultry look, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I aim to please.” 

You sit at the opposite end of the bed and ease one foot up his thigh and over the bulge in his pants. Sylus watches you closely as you press your toes against his hard cock. It twitches beneath you as you slowly trace the outline of it. And yet, he barely squirms, only watches with that weighty gaze of his, waiting patiently. No matter, you have time enough to get him properly riled up. You crawl up to him and undo the zipper. 

“Eager, are we?” He raises his hips so you can more easily pull down his jeans and briefs at once. “You hardly even teased me sweetie. I promise, I can take it.” 

“I’m far from done,” you huff as you finally get the rest of his clothes off. “You’ll be eating your words once I’m through with you. I’m going to spoil you rotten, just like you do for me.” 

Sylus chuckles darkly. “Do your worst.” 

You lay on your stomach, his bent legs bracketing you on either side. You pick up his heavy cock where it rests on his abdomen and give the head a slow lick.  

“Let’s get it nice and wet first,” you say before you wrap your mouth around him. You take your time sucking him off, savoring the taste of his skin. It’s not that Sylus doesn’t like getting head from you; as he’s said on more than one occasion, he enjoys anything that involves you. But he’d much rather spend time pleasing you instead. As sweet as he is, you’re eager to return the favor. You pump his cock to spread the mixture of pre-cum and saliva. You hollow your cheeks and relax your throat to take more of him, and you hear his breath falter slightly. Much better. 

You release him with a wet pop in favor of crawling over to the nightstand to retrieve a bottle of lube. You pour a generous amount into your palm and work it into his hardened member with both hands. You can’t help it; you take the head back into your mouth as you coat him in the lubricant. You have to force yourself to stop when you see his stomach spasm.  

“Mmm Sylus. I just love your cock. It’s big and beautiful like you.” A spurt of pre-cum leaks out, and you giggle.  

“You do know how to give a compliment,” Sylus groans. 

You push yourself into a seated position and wave the bottle cheekily. “Let’s use some more of this.” 

You squeeze more lube into your hand and rub it into the soles of your feet. You glance at his glistening cock and rub some more of the lube for good measure. 

“Perfect,” you hum before tossing the bottle off to the side. You position his cock between your feet and slowly drag them up the length of him. Sylus shudders as you jerk him off. He can’t seem to decide between watching your feet as they toy with him or keeping eye contact with you. 

You rest your left foot on the bed of white, downy hair on his pelvis and use your right foot to press his cock against the top of the left one. You inch your toes down his length, then back up until you reach the tip. You press your heel down against his balls and Sylus groans. Cum oozes out of him, aiding the slide of your foot as you work him up.  

“You sure you can take more, baby?” you ask, a coy smile on your face. You gasp when you feel his cock harden again. 

“I sincerely hope you aren’t through with me yet. I’m feeling far from spoiled.” 

You turn away from him, on your hands and knees. You look over your shoulder as you try to get his cock in the perfect position. Once you have him securely in place you start jerking him off again, more quickly this time. The feel of his twitching length turns you on so much you’re not sure what you want to do to him next. Your own breathing becomes heavy from the knowledge that you have Sylus’s pleasure in the palms of your hands. 

...More like the soles of your feet. 

You look up at your beloved. He’s panting, his eyes nearly sparkling as he meets your lustful gaze. 

“Mmm, tell me Sylus. What is it that I desire? What do you see when you look at me?”  

“Hah. You’re very dangerous company to keep.” 

You press your feet closer together to tighten your grip. When you drag your feet back up, Sylus moans like he’s in pain.  

“Don't keep me waiting, my love.” You notice your own voice is a bit husky with want, and the sound of it drives up your arousal. “Go on, tell me what you see with those beautiful eyes of yours.” 

Sylus draws in a shaky breath. His right eye glows as he says, “All that you desire...is me.” 

“Yes, my darling. All I want is you. I want you to come undone for me.” 

You speed up your movements while keeping him securely in the clutch of your soles. But it doesn’t take much longer for him to cum all over your feet again. Sylus loves nothing more than you, and your want for him is more than enough to get him cumming in his pants on a normal day. Not that many people would believe that to be true. 

You turn back around and lick his spend off his cock and stomach. His breathing is ragged as he watches you clean him up so diligently.  

You straddle his hips and press a kiss to the center of his chest.  

“You’re so sexy like this. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

“I hope you never do, kitten.” 

You push yourself onto your feet so you stand right before him, your soaking pussy so close to his waiting mouth. You card your fingers into his hair, then yank so he looks up at you. He moans again; if he hadn’t cum just a moment ago, you’re sure the hair tugging alone would have sent him over the edge. 

“Be a good boy and make me cum.” 

Sylus lets out a breathless laugh. He looks at you with wonder glittering in his ruby red eyes. “You’re getting better at bossing me around. As I wished.” 

You grab the headboard once Sylus spreads your dripping flesh with his tongue. He’s eager as he kisses your lips and sucks them into his mouth. You already feel weak in the knees from his erotic enthusiasm.  

“Fuck, Sylus!” you whisper when he sucks your clit, moaning as he does. Your body is alight with ecstasy, he’s too good at making you cum. This might have been a miscalculation on your part. 

Arousal gushes out of you when he fucks his tongue into you, his perfect nose nudging at your stiffened clit with every push into your hole. You grab his hair again so you can move him how you like as you roll your hips over his face. He groans as you hump against him desperately until you cum hard, a shriek of his name echoing in his spacious chambers. 

You collapse into his lap and kiss him sloppily, licking up your sticky cum as you press yourself closer to him. You thought you had more in you, but you’re desperate for him now. You sit yourself on his cock and rock against him. He fills you so well that you could cum just from sitting on it. 

He kisses you wantonly, straining against his bindings to try and get closer to you. Something about him remaining tied up, even though he could easily break out of them, arouses you to no end.  

You get up on your knees and whine when his cock slips out of you. But you need to feel his hands on you now. You try to untie one of the restraints, but your hands are a bit shaky from the desire pulsing through you.  

“Damn it, I really did tie these too well. Sylus, ngh, fuck,” you pant. He’s taken one of your nipples into his and is sucking without mercy. In an instant the restraints are magicked away in a swirl of his evol. He pulls you closer to him, abandoning your breast to kiss you deeply. His hands roam your entire body, like he hasn’t been able to touch you in decades.  

“Well, did you get your fill?” he asks as he kisses your neck. “If not, I can give you more.” 

You tug his earlobe between your teeth. “Give me more Sylus. I need more of you.” 

Sylus settles you back against the bed. He presses sweet, wet kisses down your body until he faces your pussy once more.  

“I didn’t get nearly enough the first time. You really are such a tease.” 

“Fuck, Sy...don’t stop,” you breathe when he starts to lick at your core again. One hand travels the expanse of your body to squeeze at your breast. Your heart beats even harder. 

“Mmm, kitten,” he sighs against the lips of your cunt. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

You don’t know how many orgasms Sylus wrings out of you with just his mouth. He barely detaches from your core, content to lap and kiss and suck your intimate flesh until the bed and his face are a mess from your cum.  

“There’s no dessert sweeter than this,” he tells you.  

You moan desperately. Fire licks underneath your skin and you writhe away.  

“Don’t run from me, kitten.” Sylus pulls you back to him and braces one of his arms over your hips. He devours you even more relentlessly. Your legs shake; your clit is almost raw from all the attention it’s getting. You feel floaty in the face of such a barrage of pleasure.  

“Sylus, I need you to fill me up,” you moan.  

“My, my aren’t you greedy?” Sylus presses a finger inside of you, pulling a gasp from deep within you. “It’s very attractive. Make more demands of me. Please.” 

“M-more. I need more.” It’s impossible for you to produce words in this state. 

“I’ll give you more.” He adds a second finger and you hiss. “You like that?” 

He curls his fingers against your g-spot and you arch up like his own marionette. Sylus knows exactly where to press and rub to drive you crazy. 

“Not-hngh-not what I meant." 

“Not enough? How about now?” Another thick digit fills you up. You can hardly protest with how ragged your breathing has become. He fucks you with his three long fingers. You moan with each caress of his fingers inside your cunt. His thumb joins in on his wicked assault; arousal squirts out of you as you chase after the pleasure he’s giving.  

You gasp when Sylus pulls his fingers out of you so he can swallow as much of your squirt as he can. He groans against your pussy, and you cum hard as he continues to kiss you.  

Sylus rests his head on your shaking thigh, a wicked smile quirking up his full lips. 

“Still not enough?” 

You shake your head as you try to get your bearings. Your vision is hazy from the intensity of your orgasm, but your needs are clear as day. You need him to fuck you.  

Sylus kneels before you at once, in tune with your thoughts and desires as clearly as he would his own.  He takes one of your ankles in his hand and licks the sole of your foot, runs his tongue along your toes.  

“Wh-what are you doing?” You can’t look away from him. You feel your cunt tighten when he sucks your big toe into his mouth.  

“I love every inch of you." He nibbles on the arch of your foot and more arousal gushes out of you. “But actions speak louder than words. Surely, you know this?” 

Sylus kisses from your ankle to your calf. Your breaths are even more labored now, and you’re suddenly confused about when the roles reversed. You’ll have to hold out a little longer next time.  

He drapes both your legs on his broad shoulders and presses them against the mattress. 

“Now this is a good position,” he says. He eases his cock into you and you both moan in tandem. You’re so tight at this angle; Sylus can barely pull back enough to properly fuck you. He presses his hips into yours in a languid rhythm that has you sighing and moaning his name.  

“Who could ever do anything to me except you?” he whispers in your ear. A shiver courses down your spine. “You possess me body and soul.” 

Each slow stroke sends a jolt straight to your heart. Sylus laces his fingers with yours and presses one of your hands into the mattress. The kiss you both exchange is a passionate dance of your tongues. You could kiss him forever. 

“S-same.” Is all you can manage with him stuffing you so full of cock. You screw your eyes shut when he pointedly thrusts into your sweet spot. You arch against him and whimper his name. But he pulls away from you and brings his free hand up to lovingly caress your face.  

“That’s all I get, sweetie?” 

Your eyes flutter open, even though every drive of his hips threatens to close them again. You turn your face to kiss his palm, eyes never leaving his. Surprise flickers across his face. 

“You’re mine forever, Sylus.” 

His face glows from the smile he gives you. Sylus gathers you in his arms and kisses you earnestly. You clutch at him too, desperate to be one with him. Your greatest love.  

Sylus barely pulls away from you now, pressing deeper and deeper inside your quivering walls. He’s so close, and you’re determined to make him cum first. 

It’s your time to shine. 

“Sylus.” Your tongue lightly brushes against his bottom lip as you whisper his name. “Sylus, I love you.” 

He drops his weight on you and cums with a groan of your name into the crook of your neck. You rub his lower back as he comes down from his climax. You’re feeling rather smug.  

“You don’t play fair,” he sighs into your neck, then kisses the hinge of your jaw. 

“What, am I not supposed to profess my love for you?” you bat your eyes at him exaggeratedly. He rolls you both over so that you rest on his stomach. 

“You can. But just know, I will keep you bound to me for all eternity.” Sylus traces his fingers along your brown and down your cheek. “Our connection transcends this place and time.” 

You take his face in both hands and kiss his forehead. 

“Can’t wait.” 

[swrwlf]

smth i've been think about that i wish i could make anon but wtvrrr:

i've noticed that nobody says anything bad abt bob anymore since he's died, which i'm not mad about, but. it feels like everyone loves him now only because he's dead. which... makes no sense?? previously nobody would even think about posting abt him and now it's all over my homepage. where was this when he was alive and being told to commit..? it just feels so disingenuous idk. everyone hated him until he died and now it's all "i miss bob sm i wish i could hear him make new stuff" or whatever but did you forget the part where you said you hated him? did you forget that?? like yes he did bad things but that doesn't excuse the fact people told him to commit. and now you're sad he's dead and acting like nobody ever told him that/purposefully ignoring that part.

[bullet-prooflove]

Mythbusters: Danny Williams x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @football1921 @fangirling-alert @lovebookheart @navs-bhat @star017

Summary: Danny has never been so thankful for an episode of Mythbusters.

Companion piece to:

One Night - Danny realises he’s made a mistake after the first night you’ve spent together.

The Backseat (NSFW) - Danny’s attempt to discuss the night before goes awry.

Distraction - Danny finds you to be a welcome distraction.

96 Hours - Danny worries after he doesn't hear from you.

Gut Feeling - Danny’s fears are validated when he stops by your home.

Three Days - Danny discovers your fate when Peterson decides to send pictures.

Buried - What happened during those three days you were missing?

In the minutes after Danny receives those pictures he can’t function. There’s a roaring in his ears, the loud rush of his blood coursing through his veins as he sits there in his seat remembering those final moments you had together, the hurt in your eyes after he told you about Charlie, the fact he got up and walked away.

He should have stayed, he should have kissed you, he should have promised you that it didn’t change anything, that he wasn’t going back to Rachel but instead he got his car and left you behind.

And now you’re gone, buried in some fucking field somewhere and Danny, he doesn’t know how to find you, he doesn’t know how to bring you home. He almost throws his phone all the wall when it rings, he knows its Peterson calling to torture him, to twist that corkscrew even deeper into his chest.

“At least tell me where her body is…” He rasps when he answers the call, his fingertips pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off pressure that’s building behind his eyes. “Let me give her back to her family-”

“Danny…”

Your voice floods his ears and for a second he thinks he must be hallucinating because you cannot possibly be alive but then you continue, a rush of words that his brain fumbles over as you speak. “I’ve spent two days in the fucking woods and I’m at a remote campsite on the Kaunala Trail. I’ve run into a couple of hunters that have lent me their sat phone but I need you to come get me.”

“Nik…” He whispers. “I thought you were dead, he showed me pictures…”

“Mythbusters.” You tell him and Danny lets out a near hysterical laugh because that’s your thing, making out on the couch with MythBusters on in the background because it helps your ADHD brain focus. “Look I gotta go, one of the hunters is a paramedic and she’s very insistant about trying to administer first aid. I’ll get them to text you to coordinates but please just… I just wanna see you. You’re all I could think about...”

You choke then and Danny can sense you’re at your breaking point. He can’t imagine what you must have gone through over the past three days, how you kept yourself alive after climbing out that grave.

“I’ll be the first one with boots on the ground.” He promises you as he raises from his desk, signalling Steve through the glass window. “Just hold tight ok? I’m on my way."

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 43 - Well. Shit.

The rogue KNOWS.

On AO3.

She’s done it. The orthon is dead. Dead without a single blade drawn. Except for the beast’s own, of course, but their band of idiots had to do…nothing. Nothing but watch. And not run—which was a feat and Astarion will never tell the wizard, but it was a damned good idea to have a portal ready and waiting.

The orthon is dead. Raphael will make good on his bargain. Astarion will know. Finally know what’s been carved into his back. What that bastard did to him.

She did that. For him and at great risk. She argued his case against most of the group, and she won and it’s dead. The band of idiots stood firm and didn’t reasonably scatter. Didn’t shove him forward to take the blame and the punishment. They stood with him, ready to fight.

On her word.

He can’t look at her. A month of illness churns and he can barely look at any of them.

She trusts him when she shouldn’t. Risks her life and the lives of all the others, even the little brats at the inn, just for him. To help him. Because she thinks he cares (it hurts).

“Be careful, Astarion,” the Blade says. “Don’t let that devil take anything than what was promised. He’ll likely try to.”

Oh, of course. Astarion makes some pithy remark to that effect. He’s the oldest in the group, has been through more than the entirety of all the others. He knows what it is to be taken advantage of.

He manages to squash down the awful, ill feeling to look around—that devil had an atrocious sense of decor; not even a touch of velvet to break up the piles of carrion, how uncouth—and does not find his leader. Her solid frame, her short, black hair. They’re missing.

Their big tiefling catches his gaze. Nods to the archway. Ah, yes, she does tend to flee after a kill. At least this time he doesn’t smell the harsh acidity of vomit.

But that would mean going out there. Seeing her. Watching her face when she spots him, the trusting fool, and feeling his gut give that dizzying swoop at the way her eyes light up.

He doesn’t deserve that look.

But he cannot stop himself. His feet move on their own, even as he mentally claws at the walls to try to stop himself. It’s like a disease, the need to see her, even when it hurts.

There’s a word for this. And that knowledge is an open pit inside him, something cold and dark he longs to collapse into itself and leave nothing left.

He knows.

She’s outside, as indicated. Forehead against the wall as her body trembles. Her breath hitches when she’s not panting, and her eyes are squeezed shut. He can smell…salt. Tears.

Oh. Oh darling.

All for his sake.

Fuck. He…he can’t do this anymore. Cannot carry on luring her along. His gloves creak as his fingers curl into fists.

He’s not sure if that small sound is what alerts her, or if her body simply, stupidly, recognizes his presence. (That hurts, too) (he thought he could only long like this for blood) (stupid boy).

But he forces his posture loose, a jaunty jut to his hips, his voice light and high as he’s so accustomed. “There you are, my dear.”

She swallows. Bobs her head in acknowledgment and then turns away to fish out the handkerchief she’s finally managed to remember (she must be so proud).

“You’re missing out on the looting again,” he says. “You’ll never claim a collection of fine jewelry if you keep that up, you know. Not that I think those devils were so keen on that themselves.”

It draws a tiny smile from her, a fine crack in the mask of her face.

“Wouldn’t wanna miss out on that, huh?” she says. Clears her nose and throat again and then rejoins the others.

He wants to look at anything but her. Wants to grab her by the waist and drag her back out to find that devil and demand his answers.

All he can do is stare as she picks her way through the carnage.

***

“Do remember we can all see you,” their horrid little cleric says as they trudge back the way they came. “Checking corners” didn’t, apparently, just mean finding and killing that monster, and his deceptive darling wants to check down the other hallway before they return to the inn (they’re all tired, despite unsheathing their weapons only once for a bunch of skeletons who didn’t have the sense to stay where they were rotting).

His darling ducks her head, shy thing, before giving him what he can almost call a smirk. He’d be proud of her for that, if the…it is guilt, isn’t it. If the guilt wasn’t currently chewing apart his insides.

“Don’t be jealous, darling,” he says to the cleric, automatically. “It decidedly does not flatter your complexion.”

He has to tell his leader. His skin will peel apart and his bones burst forth with the need of it. Even as his head feels light. As he clutches the hilts of his knives and looks to them all, wondering which of them will be the first to turn on him. If they’ll give him a quick death, at least. She would probably allow him that.

His spinning thoughts hit a wall when someone shouts at them. A dockside sort of insult he barely registers. It’s another skeleton. And yet another ambush. Typical Sharran den.

He joins the gith in a bit of mindless slaughter. Lets himself sink into the thrill of a well-placed strike. Delight in a rattled shriek as he sets one of them on fire with magic while knifing another right between the neck vertebrae. It’s incredibly satisfying to stomp a skull to powder. Imagine a red glow in those empty sockets fizzling out as he smashes chattering teeth (little one) to jagged pieces.

When it’s done, yet another heap of horror comes out to greet them. This one reeks of death. Decay and a harsh, chemical stink. Medicinal herbs and something very much of the grave.

Balthazar, apparently. The creature they were tasked to find (when that awful half-orc killed him). He’s an ugly one. It’s the eyes: cold and calculating and smug. All too familiar arrogance. That is a creature that commands others and revels in the petty power it gives him.

Astarion fights to keep his upper lip from curling.

Doubly so when those nasty eyes find Eleanor. She stands near the back of the group, letting the cleric take the lead (none of them can blame her; poor thing must be wrung out after talking an orthon to death).

The hideous creature wants something called a Nightsong. Their cleric is far too interested in it all, and he makes a note to himself to keep on eye on her and a blade close at hand. It’s not the first time he’s thought of punching steel through that soft neck of hers, though it has been some tendays since the last one.

Still, though giving instructions—a pompous creature to boot—the corpse thing stares at Eleanor. Until Astarion has to slip past the wizard to her side. Feign a saucy wink and goodness, he just can’t bear to be away from her, can he?

…it eases something in him. He intends to take that to whatever end lies in store for him. Hopefully only after he’s wrenched off that bastard’s head and fashioned it into a puppet for a children’s mummery show.

Though, severed heads might send them fleeing.

Well, the ones that don’t cluster around some decrepit corpse left in the streets, daring each other to poke it with a stick. Which is quite a lot of the city’s urchins, and he thinks his darling might appreciate the morbidity of that.

And then they’re waved away. Obedient playthings off to do the bidding of their betters.

Astarion can picture, quite vividly, carving new scars into that mess of a necromancer’s face. Perhaps cutting open the lump over there (named Flesh, how appalling) and stuffing the beast inside the bleeding hollow he’d carve out.

So their next steps are set. The only way forward is into Shar’s gauntlet to find some relic and give their dreary cleric the kind of joy reserved for infants and fanatics. How lovely.

He lets Eleanor drift forward, lets himself trail behind. She glances after him, but he leans in to strike up conversation with the wizard, barely aware of what he’s saying (but not so much he doesn’t catch the look of surprise but appreciation on the man’s face). Gods help him, he drags a lecture out of the wizard.

But it’s enough of a pull on his attention, and Astarion is very good at feigning attention while being leagues away. Lets himself be held captive to prattle. Lets his body follow along with the group.

Because he has to do it. He has to talk to her.

And he would very much rather sprint into the shadow-curse.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Max 📸 and 💔, please!!!!

500 for 📸

---

But this time, his worry is different. Because this time, he’s told Buck all about it. He’s gone so far as to say, moving brings a whole new sort of stress, and I’m nervous about how that will impact our dynamic as a new, blended family. Out loud. To Buck’s face. Which isn’t an easy thing to admit, but he did it.

Buck had listened. He took it seriously. He said he doesn’t have the same worry, but he can understand Eddie’s concerns. He keeps checking in. 

Like for example, now. A message from Buck flashes across Eddie’s CarPlay display. He taps it. 

“Stop at the next rest station?” It reads. 

“YES!” Penny calls out from the back seat. “I have to pee! I want to see Grumpy!”

Eddie replies with voice-to-text.

“Yes, I think that would be good.”

It’s definitely quicker making this drive without children or dogs. Eddie did it with Chris at seven. He did it by himself last year. And now he’s doing it with a whole convoy; two vehicles, a Uhaul trailer, four people, and one very put out greyhound. So, yeah, this is the slowest the drive has ever been for Eddie. Especially since, while he is an efficient taskmaster of a packer and has transferred that virtue onto his son, Buck and Penny are a bit more… Well, all over the place. 

However, this is also the best circumstance he’s ever found himself moving in. Obviously, moving back to Texas had felt like a walk of shame through a bog of Eddie’s own poor decision making. Moving to California the first time had been better than that, but still weighed down by the Shannon of it all. He’d said he was moving for himself, for his career, but that was a thinly veiled lie. He’d been moving for her. Like a game of chicken. He’d get close enough that they might share an area code, but he hadn’t planned on calling. Not until he needed to. So, really, moving not only to get the job he loves back, but to live in the place he loves with the people he loves? A strong move for Eddie. A great life choice. 

So, even if he’s nervous - even if he has a long list of concerns and stressors - Eddie isn’t doubting himself. He knows this is the right choice. No matter how many times he has to listen to good 4 u on this damn drive. What kindergarten relationship drama has Penny experienced for this song to resonate with her so deeply? 

---

500 for💔

---

It doesn’t take long after that for Buck to start crying. Nothing big or dramatic. Not sobbing or shaking or anything like that. Just quiet, necessary tears. All the while, Eddie stays still. He stays there, holding him, and he just waits. He waits until Buck stops crying. He waits until they both fall asleep. He doesn’t let go.

▪️▪️▪️

When Buck wakes up, sometime later when it’s still day, but the sun outside his bedroom window is hanging low, his face is pressed against Eddie’s chest. He’s not sure how it got there. It wasn’t there when he fell asleep. 

Eddie is still sleeping when Buck wakes. He’s holding Buck to him so gently that Buck sort of wonders if he missed Eddie hitting his head at some point during their rescue from the bomb shelter. Has he forgotten all his anger? Has he forgotten what Buck did? Eddie isn’t obligated to forgive him, just because he’s sad. That feels manipulative of Buck. That’s not what he meant to do.

When Buck’s return to consciousness changes the pattern of his breathing, it’s not long before Eddie wakes, too. Buck knew he was a light sleeper. He didn’t know this light. Buck hasn’t even moved. 

“Hey,” Eddie mumbles, voice groggy, after opening his eyes.

“Hi,” Buck replies, voice a little raspy and uncertain. 

“Sleep okay?” Eddie asks.

Yes, actually. He did. It was sort of a dead, dreamless sleep. He feels rested, even though the sort of shift they have demands more sleep than the few hours they just got.

“Yeah,” is all Buck says though. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. Buck can tell he’s about to ask another question. He just has that look in his eyes. Like he’s trying to make a decision and needs more information. Fuck. Buck really doesn’t want to have any big talks right now. He’s just woken up. He’s still not up for it. If Eddie wants to leave, he can leave. Buck never asked for-

“Hungry?” Eddie asks. 

Oh.

Actually, yes. Yes, he is.

Buck nods. “A little.”

“Do you want to order in from that ramen place?” Eddie suggests. “I know it’s hot out and hot food is iffy, but… That always hits after a tough shift.”

Eddie knows Buck loves that restaurant. He gravitates to it whenever someone dies on a shift. Comfort food that isn’t fried or too sugary. No one died this shift, but… 

“Yeah,” Buck nods again. “That would be really good.”

“Okay,” Eddie smiles. “We should probably get up, then.”

So Buck gets out of bed. He doesn’t really want to, but he does. He sort of wonders if that’s the only time he’ll get to sleep that close to Eddie. If he’ll have wasted it, being so fucking glum.

[imagine-you]

You Know I Love You Too Much To Be Crushed Like That [Erik Campbell/Reader]

Summary: You're at the end of a long shift at the hospital and eager to get home and go to bed. But on your way to grab a snack for the ride home, you run into your ex. You would do anything to get him back, but first you've got to convince him not to kill his baby brother with a pack of peanut butter cups. Word Count: 5k Author's Notes: I've been in such a writing slump, but I fell in love with Erik and couldn't get this idea out of my head. I'm not a medical professional, obviously, so forgive any mistakes. I'm also a sucker for a fix-it fic, so here y'all go. 💖

Read On AO3

If anyone asked you about the biggest regret of your life, you would lie and say it was putting yourself through academic hell and getting your doctorate right before you hit twenty-five. But that wasn't your biggest regret. It wasn't even really a regret at all.  

What you really regretted, even though you would never admit it to anyone, was losing Erik.  

He drove you crazy and your fights were always epic. He was the only person you knew who could truly get under your skin and make you feel like you were going to lose your mind. But you loved him so much you felt like you couldn’t breathe without him some days. For three and a half years, he was your everything. But somewhere along the line, you fell apart.  

You were constantly working or studying or stressing over your future and Erik started staying later and later at the tattoo shop since you weren’t around. Before you knew it, you went days and then weeks without seeing him.  

You got so wrapped up in finishing your degree that before you knew it, Erik wasn't in your life anymore.  

It had been nearly a year since you were together, but he still featured heavily on your mind. You thought about picking up your phone and sending him a text several times a day. Half the time you wished you could hear his voice even if just for a moment. Even if he was pissed off, you didn’t care. You just wanted to know he was thinking about you. 

You missed the way he held you and the way he would press a kiss to your forehead when he knew you were sad. You missed being tangled up together in his bed and watching him get all worked up playing video games. You missed his laugh and sardonic sense of humor and the way he made you smile.  

No one could make you smile like he did.  

You even missed his family. While your own family situation was less than ideal, the Campbell family had welcomed you with open arms. Even though you and Erik were done, you still called Julia every few weeks and sent funny memes to Bobby. Howard had even invited you over to eat dinner more than once and Brenda sent you care packages since she was worried you weren’t taking care of yourself.  

 Without Erik, you didn’t feel complete. You felt like a part of you was missing. You were merely a shell of yourself, half-alive and searching for a reason to keep going. You thought getting your degree and living out your dream of becoming a doctor would make it all worth it, but without Erik, it just felt like a hollow victory. You were just so fucking lonely that you didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before you caved and tried to get Erik back. You didn't know when and you didn't know how, but it was inevitable.  

You just never thought it would happen because Erik wanted to kill Bobby.  

You thought maybe it was just wishful thinking that had you hearing Erik's voice. You were exhausted, coming off a twelve-hour shift of shadowing and making calls you didn't feel prepared to make. All you wanted was your bed, food, and enough sleep to make the dead envious. You weren't even all that picky about the order that it happened, as long as it happened.  

But when you rounded the corner, intent on grabbing a snack to take with you for the ride home, all thoughts of leaving fled your mind.  

Erik was standing at one of the vending machines with Bobby right behind him. Erik was muttering to himself about something, and Bobby was standing back, looking worried with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. 

 You felt rooted to the spot, unable to move or even blink out of fear that he would disappear. 

Erik brought his fist up, hitting the glass, before shaking out his hand. "Ow! You piece of shit. C'mon!" 

You jolted out of your stupor and walked closer, helplessly drawn to him, before finally catching sight of what Erik was so desperate to free from the machine.  

"What the fuck are you doing?" You blurted, suddenly not caring about remaining unnoticed. "Are you trying to kill him?" You continued, gesturing towards Bobby.  

Bobby had turned to look at you, but Erik had only given a defeated sigh before resting his forehead against the glass in front of him.  

Bobby offered you an unsure smile before freeing his hand from a pocket to lift his hand in a wave. "Hi, Y/N." 

"Hey, Bobby," you greeted, glancing from him to Erik and then back again. "What the hell is going on here?" 

"I'm trying to kill him," Erik confessed, keeping his forehead pressed to the glass but turning his head enough to look at you out of the corner of his eye. "So he'll live," he clarified, finally turning to face you.  

"What," you said, too surprised to even phrase it as a question. You were momentarily caught off-guard by how exhausted Erik looked, but you couldn’t let yourself ignore what he said. “That doesn’t make sense, Erik.”  

You didn’t want to admit it, but saying his name after so long felt so good. It was like coming home after a long day where everything had gone wrong.  

"Look," Erik started, turning away from the vending machine and beginning to walk towards you. "I don't have time to explain. Just trust me, alright? We're going to get him the peanut butter cups and then he'll die and then we'll bring him back. And then all will be right with the world. Or at least our family." 

You hurried forward, blocking Erik's path when he made to go back towards the vending machine. "You're not letting him get anywhere near that, Erik. What the fuck is wrong with you?" The Erik you knew and loved would never put Bobby in danger, but now for some reason, he was ready to hand his little brother death coated in chocolate.  

"What's wrong with me?" Erik huffed out a despondent laugh. You had never heard him so defeated, but he hid it well with a sarcastic smile. "What's wrong with me is that Death took my dad and my sister and I'm sure as hell not letting it take my brother too." 

"Howard?" You thought for a second it was a sick joke on Erik's part, but then you saw the look on his face. "And Julia?" You couldn't help but check, hoping you heard wrong.  

Bobby nodded his head, solemn and apologetic.  

"And no one told me?" You knew it was stupid. You and Erik were no longer together. But Howard had told you only days after the breakup that you were still a part of their family. To lose not only Howard but Julia as well hurt more than you could stomach.  

"We were a little busy trying not to die ourselves," Erik told you, flashing his arm at you. You could see a new tattoo he had inked into his skin, no doubt a tribute to Howard, but there was a heart branded into the skin right above it.  

You instinctively reached out, not even thinking about how it might be weird to grab his arm. Only a year ago, your touch had been welcomed, but now you didn’t know how Erik would respond. You should have waited, but all you could think about was that Erik had gotten hurt, and you weren't there for him.  

"Oh, Erik," you sighed, barely remembering at the last moment to not call him ‘babe.’ You wished more than anything that you been able to prevent him from getting hurt. He was always so fiercely protective of the people he loved and sometimes you wondered who was watching out for him when you were no longer around.  

You lightly brushed your fingers along the tattoo, studying the burn mark on his arm. Erik shivered and you raised your head, meeting his eyes.   

You were in no way prepared for the look he was giving you. It was brief, but you still saw what he quickly tried to hide.  

It was want and desire. It was pain and grief. It was longing and apology.  

It was love.  

You knew you were still in love with Erik, but having the proof staring you right in the face that he was still loved you was something else entirely.  

It was everything.  

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, not even fully sure if he understood that you were sorry for more than just the burn on his arm. You were sorry about Howard and Julia. You were sorry for getting so wrapped up in your future, that you let yourself forsake your present. You were sorry that you were too scared to talk to him after the breakup.  

You were sorry that you let him go.  

You knew you needed to stay focused, so you tried to steer the conversation back on track. "None of that explains why you're trying to kill Bobby," you pointed out, hurriedly letting go of Erik's arm once you realized it was still in your grasp.  

Erik shot Bobby a questioning look before Bobby nodded his head in answer. Erik rolled his eyes before focusing back on you. "We don't have much time, and this is going to sound fucking crazy, but you've just got to trust me, alright?"  

Two minutes later, you were starting to wonder if you should get the two of them admitted for whatever break from reality they were experiencing.  

"You two have lost your fucking minds," you muttered, unable to think of anything else to say.  

"I know, trust me, I get it," Erik assured you. He hesitated for a moment before he reached out and grabbed your shoulders. "But don't get caught up on how batshit insane I sound right now and remember that when we were together, I never lied to you. Not once. Do you really think I'd be doing this as some kind of sick joke? It’s not like I knew you were going to stumble across my master plan to kill Bobby here. What are the odds that you just happened to be here?" 

You couldn't tear your gaze away from his stare. You knew deep down that he was right and telling the truth. But you still couldn't wrap your mind around what he was saying. You saw death every day at the hospital. But hearing about what the Campbell family had endured coupled with the idea that death itself was an entity correcting the timeline by eradicating everyone who shouldn't exist had your head spinning. 

And from what you understood, it wouldn't be long until Death came for Bobby. Innocent, incredibly sweet Bobby who had always made time for you even after your breakup with Erik. The world surely didn’t deserve someone like Bobby, but Bobby deserved the world. He deserved to live.  

Your thoughts were racing at a million miles a second. You could lose your license. You could go to jail. There were countless horrible outcomes that could occur, but you knew you would give up everything for Erik. You would do whatever it took to save Bobby. 

All it took was one look at Bobby to make your decision for you. 

"Exposing him to that is incredibly fucking risky," you said, nodding towards the vending machine where Erik had been doing his damnedest to free a pack of peanut butter cups. "Doing that without a doctor's supervision? That's just stupid." 

You let them both take a moment for your words to sink in. 

Erik got it first. He grinned at you, clapping his hands down on your shoulders. He reeled you in so he could sling an arm around your shoulders and pull you in close to his side to squeeze you tight. "Then it's a good thing I've got a doctor." 

A little thrill shot through you hearing Erik call you his doctor. It had been so long since you had been anything other than just his ex and you wanted so desperately in that moment to be more. You forced yourself to shrug his hold off and turned towards Bobby.  

"Come on," you directed, beckoning for the two of them to follow you.  

"What are you going to do?" Erik asked, trying to keep up with you as you lead them down one hallway and then another.  

"First, we're going to find an empty room. Then, we'll go from there." You kept an eye on your surroundings, making sure that no one was paying attention to what you were doing. "In here," you said, opening a freshly vacated room. It was at the end of the hallway leading towards an empty waiting room, which meant that it would remain unused for a while.  

As Erik and then Bobby passed you, you noticed the light in the hallway flicker for just a moment. You got the creeping feeling that someone was watching you, but when you looked up and down the hallway, there was no one there. You shuddered before closing the door and then turned to face Erik and Bobby.  

"Alright," Erik started, leaning towards you. "Now you’ve gotta tell me. What's the plan?" 

You winced, knowing that it wasn't much of a plan, but it was guaranteed to achieve the goal of killing Bobby.  

"We're going to have to stop Bobby's heart," you admitted, noticing the way Bobby shifted warily on his feet. "A clinical death is far preferable in this situation than anything else. We stop his heart and then immediately restart it." You had specifically chosen the room for its crash cart which would give you everything you needed to resuscitate Bobby.  

"So, basically the plot of Flatliners?" Erik asked, gifting you with a skeptical look.  

You arched a brow at him. "And your idea was better?" 

Erik studied you for a moment before he sighed. "Fuck it. Let's do it." 

Erik ushered Bobby over towards the bed while you set up what you would need. You could feel your heart racing as you got Bobby hooked up to a heart monitor and pulled the crash cart close to your side. You were terrified that Bobby would actually die without hope of resuscitation and his death would be on your hands. You knew that losing Howard and then Julia in just a few days had devasted Erik, but you didn't know if he would ever recover if he lost his baby brother too. Erik had spent his whole life watching out for Bobby and steering him clear of anything that might hurt him, so leading him right towards certain death must have been weighing heavily on him. If you were the reason this plan didn't work? Then you didn't think Erik would ever forgive you.  

"What's going to happen?" Bobby asked as he let himself fully recline on the bed. He sounded scared, but was trying to hide it. You hated hearing Bobby so terrified, but you knew there wasn’t much you could do except comfort him.  

You stopped setting out your supplies and turned to face the bed. You took a couple steps forward until you were at his bedside and then reached out to grab his hand.  

"Bobby, I know this is scary. And I know you don't wanna die. But I'm not going anywhere, alright? I'm not going to let Death take you. I'll bring you back. Or I'll die trying," you promised, hoping he got just how serious you were about making sure he survived the whole ordeal. 

Bobby's eyes were wide with fear, but after a moment, you noticed his grip on your hand relax. He nodded his head, letting you pull away.  

You offered him a smile before raising your head to see Erik staring at you. "What?" You couldn't help but ask, feeling slightly defensive.  

"Nothing," Eric claimed, shrugging his shoulders. "It's nothing," he lied before turning away and beginning to pick up a container. He shook it, shooting you a curious look. "What's in here?" 

"Put it down," you sighed, turning away to face your supplies again. "And keep an eye out for anything weird. We might not be on Death's hitlist, but I doubt they'll take kindly to us fucking with their plan." 

"What is all that stuff?"  

You jumped, not noticing that Erik had walked up behind you. You resisted the urge to lean back, wanting just a moment of comfort, before you pointed towards the crash cart. "That is filled with everything I'll need to bring Bobby back in case the AED doesn’t do its job. It also has what I need to stop his heart." 

"So, what? You keep this in every room?" You knew from his tone of voice that he was trying to distract himself. He was asking questions to keep his mind otherwise occupied from the fact that you were about to kill his brother. 

"Not every room," you answered, turning and facing Erik. "But in the rooms where someone recently died? Then yeah," you admitted with a wince.  

"Oh," Erik sighed, swaying just the tiniest bit closer. "Wonderful." He looked uncertain for a moment, but he had yet to take his eyes off you. 

"You trust me?" You couldn't help but check. Did Erik still have feelings for you? Absolutely. You knew that without a doubt now. But did he trust you? You didn't know.  

Erik kept eye contact for long enough that you had to fight the urge to look away. You didn't know what he was looking for, but you wanted him to find it. Whatever it was, it brought a slight smile to his face. "With my brother's life," he assured you before stepping away.  

You took a deep breath, allowing yourself one more look at Erik, before you finally approached Bobby again.  

"Okay, Bobby," you said, reaching for the first item you would need. "Let's put you to sleep." 

It turned out that killing Bobby was easy enough. Hearing him flatline after you stopped his heart had you feeling dizzy with panic. But you forced yourself to stay calm.  

You waited for a count of thirty seconds, ignoring Erik's nervous pacing near the door of the room. You couldn’t allow yourself to freak out if Erik was already panicking. You held people’s lives in your hands every day, but this was different. This was family. And if you weren’t able to bring Bobby back, then the rest of Erik’s family would die.  

Once you were sure Bobby had been gone for long enough, you started with the defibrillator again. You let yourself fall into the role of saving Bobby. Killing someone deliberately went against everything you vowed to uphold when you became a doctor, but trying to save someone was why you became a doctor in the first place. When you were a kid, you had to sit by and watch your aunt fade away from you as sickness took her. But you wouldn't lose anyone else.  

Not Bobby. And if you were lucky enough, you wouldn't lose Erik again either.  

"Uh, Y/N?" You heard Erik call, barely snagging your attention. You were in the middle of considering a shot of epinephrine to get Bobby's heart restarted. It was a risk, but it might be one you had to take to save him. The AED wasn’t working for you like it should and you were quickly hitting the point where you were going to have to consider alternatives. 

You noticed the lights flickering above you, but you ignored them. There was a creaking noise above you that you couldn’t explain, but it wasn’t important.  

You couldn't stop now. You had to keep trying.  

You used the defib again, keeping all your focus on the heart monitor to see if Bobby's heart restarted.  

"Y/N!" Erik yelled, this time closer than before.  

You felt an arm wrap around your waist before you were tackled to the floor. There was a screech that pierced the room before the light above you disconnected from the ceiling and swung down, heading right for the spot you had been just seconds before. There was a shower of sparks before the light fell and hit the floor hard enough to crack the tiles.  

You were rolled to the side as the ceiling tile above you gave way and followed after the light. You had your head turned to the side, looking at the destruction just inches away from your face.  

Erik was above you, his breath coming fast as he studied you. All you could do was blink up at him in shock, realizing that you had narrowly avoided death just a moment before.  

"You okay?" Erik asked, bringing up a hand to brush his fingers gently over your cheek, as if he had to prove to himself you were still there.  

"Fine," you lied, knowing that you didn't have any more time to waste. "Bobby--" you started, before you heard it. The sound happened again. And again. And once more, before starting up a steady rhythm.  

It was a heartbeat.  

Bobby's heartbeat.  

 In all the chaos, you had missed Bobby’s return to life. No wonder Death had taken one last shot at you. You had managed to disrupt its design and save the rest of the Campbell family. 

"Oh, thank God," you got out on a relieved laugh, grinning up at Erik. "We did it." 

"You did it," Erik countered, shaking his head. "I never fucking doubted you," he said before he dipped his head down, letting his lips brush yours. "Thank you," he murmured against your mouth before kissing you again. “You’re a fucking genius,” he pulled back to say before diving in for another kiss. 

You knew you needed to check on Bobby, but you allowed yourself to have Erik again for just one more moment. You reached a hand up, letting your fingers brush through his hair before lightly gripping the back of his neck, pouring everything you had felt for Erik over the past year into the kiss. You gave him all your heartbreak, sorrow, fear, longing, and need, hoping he got everything you hadn't been able to say to him.  

"Fuck," you breathed, breaking the kiss when the smell of smoke reached you. You looked over to see that the fallen light had managed to ignite a set of towels that had been knocked to the ground.  

You felt Erik moving above you and at first you thought he was shaking. But when you finally tore your gaze away from the fire to him, you realized he was laughing.  

"What--," you got out before he was kissing you again. This one was tinged with joy and promised more to come. He brought a hand up, his fingers curling just beneath your jaw to hold you in place. You let your eyes close, savoring the moment meant for just the two of you. 

Before you could lose yourself in the kiss, Erik was pulling away. You immediately tried to reel him back in, but he evaded your grasp and stood. He reached a hand down, helping you off the floor.  

"You help Bobby," he told you, nodding towards his brother. "And I'll go get something to put that out." He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before flashing you a reassuring grin. 

You watched him leave the room, shooting you one quick look over his shoulder, before he was out the door.  

You managed to get Bobby conscious, but you still wanted to make sure nothing had gone wrong during his brief excursion with Death. So, you convinced him to get admitted for observation. Erik had told a whole story about how Bobby had collapsed and you were there to save his brother once he went into sudden cardiac arrest.  

Your boss had ordered you to go home and rest, but you were scared to leave Erik again. So, once he made the decision to stay with Bobby, you found yourself making the same choice. If anything, having a doctor around for constant supervision would only benefit him. And if that meant you were in the same room as Erik for hours with nothing to do but lean your head on his shoulder and pretend you were getting some rest, then why not kill two birds with one stone? 

The next morning, Brenda showed up at the hospital to take watch over Bobby.  

"Go home," Brenda urged Erik. "Get some rest," she sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple. "Bobby will be fine. He’s not in danger anymore."  

You saw tears begin to well in Brenda's eyes as she turned to face you. "And you," she started before reeling you into a hug. "Thank you," she whispered, squeezing you just a bit too tight. “After losing my Howard and my baby, I couldn’t lose anyone else. And you saved him. You saved our family.” She wasn’t letting up on her embrace and you were starting to feel just the tiniest bit overwhelmed.  

Erik must have noticed your momentary distress, because he reached out and tugged on his mom's arm. "Let Y/N breathe, mom," he groaned, shaking his head.  

Brenda was quick to turn and pull Erik into another hug. She hid her face in his neck and you knew from the way her shoulders shook that she was crying. You happened to meet Erik’s gaze over his mom’s shoulder and caught the pain and gratitude in his expression. It was everything that Brenda had tried to say to you and you dripped your head in a nod of acknowledgement.  

"C'mon," Erik said once his mom let him go. He slung an arm around your shoulders to steer you out of the room.  

You didn’t know where he was leading you, but you didn’t care. You would have followed him wherever he wanted to go. You had spent so long without him in your life that for the first time in a while you felt like you were finally breathing again. You didn’t want to know what would happen to you now if you let Erik distance himself from you again.  

Erik didn't say anything until you were in the elevator and descending towards the first floor. He no longer had his arm around your shoulders, but he was sticking close enough to your side that you could feel his body heat. 

 “So," he started, rocking back on his heels. "What are you doing after this?" He shot you a look that you knew all too well. He was trying to hint at something but poorly concealing it behind nonchalance. 

You hadn't really thought that far into the future. Exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm you and all you wanted was a bed to sleep in for a few hours. If you had it your way, then Erik would be there when you finally managed to do it. 

"Probably going home to sleep until I don't feel like this anymore," you answered, shrugging your shoulders only to feel your arm bump into his for a moment. "What about you?" 

"You know," he mused, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a smirk. "I was planning on sleeping too. Why don't we just do that together? Carpool or something. It's safe for the environment or whatever." 

"Oh, really," you said, having a hard time fighting a grin. "Well, if it's for the environment, then," you joked, trying to not to let on that you were entirely too eager to be in the same bed as Erik again.  

"There's only one catch, though," Erik warned as the elevator doors opened. He gestured for you to lead the way before following you out of the elevator.  

"A catch?" You asked, starting to lead him towards the parking garage. You weren't sure how Erik got to the hospital, but you figured he wasn't planning on letting you drive home alone.  

Erik reached out to grab your shoulder, pulling until you turned to face him. He had a serious expression on his face and you worried for a moment that something had gone wrong between leaving Bobby and getting to the parking garage.  

"You see," he started, letting his grip on your shoulder drop to your hand. He pulled your hand up until it was clasped between his own. "I only sleep in the nude." 

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded for a moment. "What?"  

"And I'm afraid I require my bed partners to do the same," he continued, a shit-eating grin finally pulling at his lips.  

You drew your hand from his hold and shoved his shoulder. "You're such an idiot," you got out on a laugh.  

Erik's grin faded away and his expression grew serious once again. He grabbed your hand and reeled you in before putting his hands on your hips, keeping you pressed close together.  

You couldn't help the butterflies that took flight in your stomach, fluttering around like crazy and making you feel weightless.  

"Really," he said, his gaze briefly flitting towards your lips before finding your eyes again. "Maybe after we've both slept off the near-death experience, we could get dinner and catch up. Maybe more," he added with a thoughtful look.  

You knew it wouldn't always feel this easy. There would be conversations and fights and assurances in store for the both of you. Erik, once he was able to process everything, would still have to come to terms with the deaths of Howard and Julia. And you would have to do your best to convince yourself that you weren't going to fuck up the best thing to ever happen to you again.  

But for now, you were going to let yourself have exactly what you wanted.  

"I'd love that," you assured Erik, helpless against the grin you could feel tugging at your lips.  

Erik pressed a kiss to your mouth, letting you feel his answering smile against yours. "Good," he said once he pulled back. "Because I sure as hell don't plan on letting you go again." 

Author's Notes: I have a few other Erik ideas, so if you read this and you're interested in reading more, please let me know! And if you read this and liked it, please also let me know! 💖

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Me: sigh It's now "Missing Tech Hour."

Also me: ... Let's be real, EVERY hour is "Missing Tech Hour." And "Missing Echo Hour." And "Missing Hunter Hour." And "Missing Crosshair Hour." And "Missing Wrecker Hour." And "Missing Omega Hour." And "Missing Rex Hour." And "Missing Cody Hour." And "Missing Howzer Hour." And "Missing Gregor Hour." And "Missing Fives Hour." And "Missing Wolffe Hour." And...

[arthursfuckinghat]

I'm at that part of chapter three my friends, so let me be a reminder that Colm O'Driscoll's plan to lure in Dutch after taking Arthur failed because nobody came looking for him.

He would have died being held captive any longer, he barely escaped.

The gang did not come for Arthur.

[toddtakefive]

thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

[boyc0tt-l0ve]

songs I wish I could still sing in the passenger seat of his old tacoma

[jfkisonthemoon]

they honestly couldve done so much with junpei beheaded/dismembered and im disappointed that it ended up just being mira. so much of his character and his relationship with akane is characterized by his lack of bodily autonomy, and him being openly beheaded during the nonary games would be the ultimate example of this. its perhaps the most brutal death in the game, and it never really gets explained or developed beyond the one puzzle that we get with it. junpei has been shown repeatedly to be subject to akane's plans or follow her blindly and i just think that would have been a really interesting angle to approach his beheading from. junpei has willingly signed up for nonary games in two different timelines just because he knew he would see her. he was infected with a deadly virus trying to find her. he grew desensitized to death as he took underground jobs to try and find her. his safety always comes second when shes in the picture, and his beheading wouldve been a prime opportunity to 1. exploit his willingness to let himself die/be injured for her and 2. make akane confront the fact that her confidence that junpei will always follow after her is not necessarily a positive thing.