#if he can find another crow to take form in

[luna-the-cretar]

Lethica and Virgil

If Virgil continues to behave himself…yeah. I mean, Lethica had formed a bond with Bag by the end of the first hour with it, so…the only real variable here is Virgil

[snowballseal]

Pretty Bird

Sylus X Reader

Summary: Sylus is jealous of you giving Mephisto attention. That's it. You tease him when you find out.

Word Count: 2123

Note: Nothing really, hope I did him justice! His dialogue is a little harder for me to nail down.

---

The first time it happens is when you cross to the N109 Zone to accompany Sylus on an “errand”.

The first thing you do when you reach the ornate, empty house - of course - is say hello to your favorite bird.

“Hey there pretty bird.”

Mephisto squawks, bobbing excitedly on his perch as you bound up to him. You grin and give the crow a gentle scratch on his head. He preens under your touch, mechanical feathers fluffing with another quiet, scruffy caw. Adorable.

Despite his unnerving gaze, which you find to be eerily similar to a certain Onychinus leader, you can’t help but love the little bird. For some reason, it always comforts you a little bit to see him perched outside your apartment, or following you around Linkon. He always tries to act like he’s not spying on you, but you know he is, and you know he’s going to report right back to Sylus. Maybe that’s why it’s comforting.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to sway his loyalties.”

Speak of the devil.

“As if,” you snicker, giving the bird one final scratch before spinning on your heels to face Sylus. He sits across the room in one of his big armchairs, eyes glued to the gun he’s loading, face carefully blank. As always. You saunter over and pop yourself onto the arm of the chair, bumping his shoulder. “You know Mephisto doesn’t listen to anyone but you. I’m just like the fun mom who gives him things.”

His lips twitch ever so slightly, “Mmm, does that make me your husband in this situation?”

Heat creeps up your cheeks.

You are no stranger to Sylus’ flirty nature. That’s how things have always been between you, though it only really gets to you now. Before, when you kind of hated his guts, it was just annoying. Well, maybe even then-

“You wish,” you retort, but there’s no hiding the blush painting your cheeks.

“Hm, I thought you knew me better than that, sweetie.” In an instant, his hand curls around your wrist, giving it a sharp tug that knocks you off balance. You let out an undignified squeak, tumbling right into his lap. And before you can squirm away, Sylus locks an arm over your legs, keeping you trapped against him. Those red eyes freeze you in place, dark and warm with mischief. “Why would I wish for something I could so easily take?”

You stare at him, eyes blown wide, face completely red now. You can’t even form any words in response, which seems to amuse him even more. A smirk curls his lips, and he gives your hip a playful pinch.

“What? Crow got your tongue, sweetie?”

You sputter, finally finding your voice, “Sylus!”

“Good. Now that you’re focused, we can go handle business.” Sylus sets you on the ground, making sure you’re steady before he stands nonchalantly and tucks his gun in its holster. Like nothing just happened! “We don’t want to be late now, do we?”

Before you can even say anything more, he’s heading for the door. It takes a few seconds to shake yourself from your  state of shock, and then you’re quickly following after him.

“Sylus-!”

He cuts you off, that stupid, attractive smirk still on his lips, “And by the way, try not to spoil Mephisto too much, sweetie. He’s grown rather petulant when you’re not around.”

You’re pretty sure your blush sticks around for the entire car ride after.

---

The second time is when you visit on one of your off days. 

When you get there, Sylus is still asleep. You take a moment to crouch by his bed, a fond smile adorning your lips as you take in his peaceful face. You remember when he used to sleep sitting up, so he was ready for anything, but now he looks relaxed. Though you still spot the gun tucked under his bed.

Deciding not to bother him, you quietly make your way back out to the living room and grab a book. It’s about the only way to pass time in the N109 Zone, at least, without getting yourself into anything dangerous. As soon as you sit down, Mephisto flaps across the room and lands on your arm, plopping himself down into your lap like a cat.

A giggle escapes you when the crow throws his head back, looking up at the most awkward angle you can imagine. You give his beak a little rub, and he makes a soft clicking sound, beady red eyes falling shut.

“I swear, it’s almost like you’re a crow with cat programming,” you hum, mostly to yourself. Mephisto ruffles his feathers, though, at the word ‘cat’, eyes flashing back open. You snort, easing a hand over his wings, “No worries, pretty bird, no cats. I’m just kidding.”

He settles back down, seemingly embarrassed by his reaction, which only makes you want to coddle him more. So cute. If only Sylus would be this cute with you. Heat tinges your cheeks at the thought of the tall man resting against your lap, looking up at you with softly narrowed eyes, humming in content as you pet his ha-

Snapping your book open, you throw yourself into the story in hopes of banishing such rogue thoughts. If Sylus knew what you were imagining, he would tease you for years. You really don’t want to feed his ego even more. Mephisto wedges himself between your arm and your side, happy to just fall asleep as you read, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

It doesn’t take you long to actually get immersed in the storyline, though. So much so that you don’t hear the steps coming up behind you.

“It seems you come here more often to spend time with Mephisto than with me.”

You practically jump out of your skin when a strong arm circles your shoulders. Sylus’ voice is a low rumble in your ear, thick with sleep. He leans over the back of your chair, and you narrowly miss the way he eyes the bird in your lap with distaste. He looks far too content curled up on your lap.

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were sleeping,” you hum, closing the book.

He grumbles, sleepy eyes shifting to bore into you. The smallest pout pulls at his lips, and you have to stifle a giggle as you reach up to smooth down his messy hair. Sylus leans into your touch, much like Mephisto did, his eyes flickering shut. Okay, maybe he is just as cute.

“Are you mad I didn’t come cuddle with you?” You tease. Sleepy Sylus is definitely your favorite Sylus. “I didn’t know the big, bad Onychinus leader likes to snuggle.”

“It’s simply to ensure you don’t cause trouble in the N109 Zone,” he murmurs, still just as quick-witted though he’s half-asleep, “I can’t have my kitten wandering around all by herself, now can I?”

“I was just reading, Sylus. No trouble here.”

“Hmm, then you might as well come read in bed.”

You hesitate, fingers tracing along his jaw lightly, “You sure I won’t disturb your sleep?”

Those dark eyes blink back open lazily, a rare, genuine smile dancing in their depths, “Trust me, kitten, my sleep will be much better with you at my side.”

God, you’re weak for this man. Mephisto squawks his complaints as you lift him from your lap, but takes off to his perch without much fight. Sylus feels a flash of victory as you intertwine your fingers. The sensation of your small hand in his eases the strange tightness in his chest whenever you’re apart. He curls his other arm around you possessively, sending the bird a smug smirk.

You catch it this time, lifting a brow as you glance between him and Mephisto. Your brain stalls. Was he…jealous? No way. There’s no way Sylus would be jealous of you spending time with his bird. He’s more mature than that…or maybe not, you realize as he drags you back to his bed, only to lay himself over you like a large cat, using your lap as his pillow. Exactly as you imagined.

Your heart flutters a little, which you’re sure he hears somehow, because he squeezes your waist teasingly. You pinch his cheek lightly before running your fingers through his snowy hair. It’s always softer than you expect.

“Go to sleep, Sylus,” you murmur, voice far too fond, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums, and you can feel the sound vibrate through his body. Almost like a purr.

God, you don’t even have a chance, do you?

---

The final time is when you visit the N109 Zone to attend another auction with Sylus. And this time, you catch him in it.

“Where’s Mephisto?”

Sylus’ face sours at your question. You bite back a smile.

Ever since the day you spent napping in his room, you haven’t been able to escape that thought swirling in the back of your mind. So you decided to test your theory. Sylus is always messing with you, afterall. It’s only fair you get a bit of revenge.

“I sent him out to gather intel,” Sylus huffs eventually. Why do you always look for that d***  bird first? “That is his purpose, afterall.”

“Oh.” You feign sadness, letting out a long sigh. “That’s too bad! I brought him some treats.”

“Well, you can leave them here. I’m sure he’ll eat them later,” he says, voice dismissive as he fixes the cuffs of his coat.

“Hmm-” You slowly make your way over to him. Those perceptive eyes narrow on you, watching you carefully while you straighten his collar. “Will he be here later? Maybe I can give them to him after the auction. I miss my pretty bird.” 

Amusement curls in your chest when you see the man’s brows twitch ever so slightly. He’s really annoyed. Now you understand why he loves pushing your buttons so much.

“No, I’m afraid he’ll be busy all night.” You can practically hear him gritting his teeth. Almost there. You keep your eyes focused on his coat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. He’s trying to figure you out and you’re scared that if you look up, the laughter you're holding back will break loose. Instead, you put on an exaggerated pout.

“That’s unfortunate. I was really hoping to see him tonight.”

Sylus growls. Actually growls in annoyance.

“Would you prefer to have Mephisto on your arm tonight instead of me?” His words come out biting and harsh, tinged with unmistakable jealousy.

The air goes silent.

Before you burst into a fit of giggles. Sylus’ eyes widen when you collapse against his chest, your entire body shaking with laughter. He freezes, though his confusion quickly gives way to realization. 

You were playing with him.

“I suppose this is some form of revenge,” he hums, shaking his head. It’s surprising it took him so long to catch on. With anyone else, he’d be beyond angry, but your laughter is so bright, so infectious, that he can’t stop the small smile that pulls at his lips. When you finally look up at him, tears glint in the corners of your eyes. Who thought this would amuse you so much?

“You’re jealous! The Sylus is jealous of a little bird. His bird.” You bite down on your lip in an attempt to muffle the giggles that keep coming, but it doesn’t do much to help. It’s just too much for you. You never ever thought you’d see Sylus actually jealous of someone, let alone an animal.

Sylus narrows his eyes, though they glow with a certain fondness. “Such a sadist, sweetie, messing with a man’s heart so lightly.”

“Oh, but your reaction was so adorable,” you sing, reaching up to poke his cheek. He playfully bites at your finger, making you draw it back quickly with another laugh. “Just the fact that you could even think I like Mephisto more than you is so silly. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Hmm, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to prove my silly conclusion wrong, won’t you?” His hands settle on your waist, drawing you closer to the warmth of his body. You oblige him, stretching your arms up and around his neck to draw him down.

“Of course. I can’t have my pretty bird walking around thinking he’s second best,” you tease, fingers curling through his hair. “Even if he has a jealousy prob-”

“Quiet.”

Anything else you say is muffled as Sylus finally kisses you.

Safe to say, after that, you make sure to give Sylus extra attention, especially when Mephisto is around. (Though you do still sneak him treats when Sylus isn’t looking.)

[casuallyanidiot]

The crows I've been feeding have started leaving me money as gifts lol. It's got me thinking about Yandere crow hybrid who likes to hang around your home. You feed the local birds, just tossing out seed every night, and you never really expect much to come out of it.

MDNI! Dead dove do not Eat!

Tw. Noncon, stalking, monsterfucking, yandere, size difference

Yandere crow who creeps around in the dead of night while you aren't paying attention to you balcony or yard, lest you see the looming, unnerving figure of a large man with shifting obsidian feathers and too sharp teeth. He's patient and only creeps out from beyond the treeline when the sun starts to set, the smaller birds get their fill for the most part, and you aren't able to see him.

At first he didn't care for you all that much, thinking of you as just some faceless human, but then he started to lurk around your house more and more. Maybe you thought that there were more birds coming than there actually were, because Yandere Crow noticed that you were putting out more seed than usual. You were just attentive like that.

Yandere Crow found himself lurking around your windows more often. He liked to peer in and watch you move about your little home. Your home looked so cozy, and his feathers ruffled at the thought of having such a warm, inviting nest. He felt an odd itch to add his own touches to your house. After all, this was his territory. No other corvid was going to come to this specific place unless he allowed them to, and he was feeling a bit protective of this little feeding spot. It totally wasn't because you were so tiny compared to him, or the fact that you were all alone without him there to guard your property.

Yandere Crow who starts to leave you little shiny trinkets. You think that some of the other birds brought them for you, but despite the fact that he knows you're unaware of him, he finds great pride in you laying out the shiny rocks, coins, ribbons and shells he so meticulously picked out.

Yandere Crow who starts drooling and imagining how pretty you'd be cuddled up beside him with soft downy feathers, blankets, and glittering objects surrounding you both. It was such an alluring fantasy that it almost made him forget that you were human and not just another, regular potential mate.

Yandere Crow who starts fucking his fist and cums on your windows, walls, and doorstep. He hopes that once you smell the musky scent, you'll start getting used to his presence.

Yandere Crow who can't take it anymore, and he breaks into your house one evening. He stands there in your kitchen, drinking in just how sweet and perfect you smell. His feathers rustle and brush up against doorways and walls as he follows his nose to find where you are all curled and fast asleep. He croons softly and looms over your pliant form. The talons on his feet tap impatiently on the ground, clunking against hollow wooden floors. He was shifting and shuddering in excitement. He's never been this close to you before, and now that you were here, face cradled in his claws,

You start to stir. Your eyes flutter open, and they widen in shock. He can see the terror filling out your features, and he feels his cock stiffen. Even as he clamps his hand over your cheeks and mouth to stop you from screaming, you're perfect to him. Maybe he wished you were a bit stronger instead of the cute, fragile little thing you are, but then he wouldn't be able to pin you down and hold you like this, would he?

Yandere crow who thinks you look so pretty in the moonlight. It makes you look like you're glowing as he spears you on a dick that's nearly the size of your whole torso. He purrs praises into your ears as you squeal and cry out.

"Shhh, you have to get used to it," He chides and thrusts his hips into you. Your poor, twitching entrance is stretched out past the point of what must be comfortable, and he does feel a twinge of guilt. He didn't properly court you, nor did he really prepare you to be fucked so thoroughly. He nuzzles his face into your hair in an apologetic manner. "But you're doing so good already for me. Just keep taking it."

Yandere Crow who keeps you trapped like that for hours. He likes being lounged across your bed while he holds you tightly against his chest. His favorite sight is the one of your fucked out, drooling face being smushed up on his chest. He can't help but chirp happily. He's made you cum so many times, and your hole is all sloppy and stuffed chalk full of him cum. It's so much that you can't reasonably clean it all out, and the thought fills him with a sense of satisfaction.

Yandere crow who is perfectly happy knowing that of all the birds you've cared for, he's the only one who's been able to get this special treatment from you.

[4mrplumi]

( crow choir. entry one ) ── dust of snow ( m.s | prev/next )

author's note at the end

you have three brothers- no, two brothers. you’ve only heard of the third. you can hardly think of them as such, feeling traitorous to your old family… families. but you are also a lonely child, so you give them permission to be props of your plain life.

the eldest, with stark blue eyes and dimples at his near-permanent smiles is named richard grayson. he’d given you a warm grin the day you arrived, that somewhat wavered at the blank look you hoped you gave him. you don’t talk to him, but sometimes you wish you did.

you know nothing of the second, apart from his first name; jason. the usual answers to unasked questions, that piece together via general conversations, don’t form here, and you can’t be bothered to ask. you wonder where he is, does he not come to visit?

the youngest of the three is younger than you too, tim drake the butler says, by maybe one or two years, you never tried to figure it out. he came to the house about a few months after you arrived, but seems far more involved with bruce’s business than you ever will be (ever hope to be). there’s a familiar twitch to his brows, and you relate it to old inquisitive roommates, the ones that tried to figure you out without asking questions and always gave up eventually. 

it's a relief he doesn't even try at all.

it does feel a little odd, to not have to talk to anyone just to shoo them away. you strangely miss it, the feeling of being irritated at bothersome small talk. in the silence of the manor, which had not much for a child to do, you start to feel lonely

you've never felt lonely before. alone, yes, isolated, absolutely, but lonely? you've never wanted company. not from anyone who wasn't... forget it.

and thus, you're in an odd situation. you want to be a part of the family, but you have no interest in talking to them. why, the mere idea makes you sweat all over, and you prefer your few meals in your room.

you don't like it. wanting so badly to converse with your brothers, get to know them the way you knew your old previous foster-care siblings, but not being able to.

in your old houses, the children would be somewhat put into forced proximity, there was no choice other than to call out for company. you'd gotten absurdly used to being reached out to without having to do it yourself. your brothers must be busy, or you must be too quiet for them to notice you around.

so with all the courage you could muster, you crept up to an idle older brother, visiting after so long from bludhaven. you might implode from the short moment where he looked at you with confusion, not knowing who you are, before giving you a awkward smile of acknowledgement. no matter, it's not his fault.

he nods off your subtle attempt at asking for his time, maybe you're not being clear enough? it's enough to put you off, so you leave quickly after he gives you a small promise to talk later, maybe get out of the house for a while.

it's such a small thing, but it makes you embarrassed. you try to build up a little stubbornness, and look to find tim. but when you find him immersed deeply in a book, a journal of some sort, you decide otherwise and leave.

it's okay. you'll try again! when you're feeling better. better and livelier.

livelier.

your patterned quilt does little to keep away the monstrous cold of gotham's winter nights, and does it wreck though your nerves and leave you shivering.

the butler; alfred, had given you a good understanding of the room's systems, yet another thing that'd take time to get used to, and you knew the switches that would connect your vents to the central heating system.

but it feels so surreal, and the familiarity of huddling into your own ice cold limbs for warmth is a comfort you can't let go off just yet. you mustn't allow these new privileges to make you forget who you are. what you are, and what you deserve.

you recall a young boy in one of your old homes, discussing earnestly with your 'sisters' about what he'd do if he had all of gotham's money. the prospect of being filthy rich had always irked you to a small degree, to be well-off when others struggle. was it guilt? 

he'd gone on and on about the different things he'd get. a curly-haired poodle, a shining red bicycle, clothes that made him look like a proper gentleman, from a gentler city. you wonder solemnly where he is now, wishing you could share the fortunes you've been shoved into with him. someone who wanted it, deserved it.

deserving... deserving something is odd. whatever makes an individual deserving of something? the hardships they recieve, and the hardships they pass out?

you don’t remember your mother, having gained metaphorical consciousness at the age of six, when your sister started taking care of you instead. you made out from her teary, drunk mumblings that she was an awfully sophisticated woman. she’d colour herself with red blushes and redder lip stains, wear family jewels she refused to sell to her ‘business’ meetings. thin-framed glasses with the eyes of a vixen’s. 

what your sister muttered most about was her many nights away from home. one-sided conversations that plunged a small anchor to your heart, because you knew you were a product of one of them. 

when she was in a bitter mood, your sister never shied away from berating you for your existence. she, unlike you, was born in wedlock. yes, to an unhappy couple, who threw picture frames and cheap souvenirs at each other before splitting up, but she knew her father.

a ridiculously strange thing to hold above one’s head. “i knew my absent father. no one knows yours.” but your depraved heart and dull mind took it so deeply. so, so deeply. 

were those hardships? did you deserve them? others have it worse, right? so do you deserve this? this wealth?

now that you do know your father, you can’t help but resent the idea of knowing. did he know? that he left his child to an unbecoming family and an irresponsible sister? did he know that the guilt of starving your sister to eat yourself made you so incredibly weak-minded at the idea of being full? did he know that you refuse to switch the heater on in the cold, because you don’t know if your old foster siblings got the same luxury? all while the elites of gotham stay in their glasshouses with their rose gardens and wine cupboards.

you can’t put your finger to it. it’s not jealousy, it’s not resentment, it’s not hatred for his absence so far… is it guilt?

you don't know what to do with this abundance of luxury. you’ve lived a lifetime of pet mice from old caretakers, mice that died from the dust that creeped out of cracked floor boards and owls that haunted your window sills. a lifetime of reminiscing about a sobbing woman in your apartment, thinking about all your promises of providing a better life for her, only for her to die in front your eyes. a lifetime of wondering why mommy didn’t come back. why daddy's never there. who daddy even is.

someone else should have it. someone else should have the option to ask the butler for a piece of chocolate pastry at an odd time. to know about their father after countless days of not knowing him. to feel pretty in new dress suits after years of wearing the same two sets of clothes every week.

someone who deserves it more.

your sister.

you miss her.

small events make you change too fast for even your own liking. small things made you so desperately attached to your big sister, small things made you so frightened, so ill, to try to talk to brothers who barely knew you only by your shadow. small things made you tolerate your father more, and mourn the fact you couldn't ever connect to him the way the others did.

small, small things. that troubeled you too much, made you decide it was time to leave. running away from reality in the comfort of your mind when you zone out, is not much different from physically running away, right? troublesome things are not worth the trouble. so you'll run away, and you'll be free. of duties you were never given.

yet another one of gotham’s teenage misfortunes. who leaves a home of riches with a light mind, with the desires of soaring through lost years in gotham like the daftest of pigeons, with no worries or vows. they leave a home of blood and bonds with a heavy heart, lamenting that this time, the choice to leave a permanent, forever family lay on them. they left unspoken conversations unsaid, and imaginary memories within their imagination.

...but, these conversations, these fake memories, become the objects of obsession, for those left behind.

where's the little crow who stalked the corridors, whose naive, cloudy eyes watched from behind walls?

alfred, where's (name)?

INTERACTIONS AND REBLOGS VV APPRECIATED !! incase it was unclear, the sections jump around in the timeline. i did want to leave it to reader interpretation, but since this is the footer, there's no harm in explaining. "you have three brothers..." and "your patterned quilt does little..." are interchangeable within the plot. both are placed after tim's given the mantle of robin, but before jason's re-entry as the red hood. the last part however, is well after both, and damian's entry. anyway you can consider this entry as like, a vague plot summary? there's a lot that happens in between and after, most of the story is about after, but i like setting the ground for this stuff.

once again, if you are interested in the series, do interact! comments, reblogs, etc are so appriciated, to anyone who posts on tumblr! i'll try to get the next entry in soon, but i can't confirm anything!

thank you for reading!!

[a-hermit-pining]

LADS Men React to You Being Different From Other Lifetimes

AN: The what ifs in my brain go crazy.

Pairing: Lads boys x (varying) reader

Genre: angst, fluff, drama, everything

Summary: In another lifetime they meet a different you.

(I do not own these characters)

Xavier: Vampire reader

What if the prince of light met you, the evil in the dark?

He found you in an alleyway, crouched over a withering man beneath the same pale light where he'd first seen you in Philos.

But you were not the same.

Your eyes, once shimmering pools of hope, were now blackened depths of corruption. Your lips, which once curled into soft smiles, were pulled back in a wicked snarl, dripping with blood.

"Hello, princeling." Your voice slides through the air like silk laced with venom. And then, you're next to him, breath ghosting along the curve of his ear. "Came here for this body?"

The hair on his neck stands on end. A dangerous warmth coils low in his stomach.

He can still feel the ghost of you, the whisp of the light you once carried. And yet, standing before him now, you are everything dark and unholy.

In that lifetime, he drove the stake through your heart. His hands trembled. His breath shattered.

And never before had he felt so hollow, a bone-deep melancholy that clung to him like a curse, long after your body turned to ash.

Rafayel: Older reader

He feels the pull for the first time as he walks toward his seat on the plane.

The ancient pull of his oath, mercilessly reminding him of the emptiness of this lifetime. He hadn’t found you. Across countries, towns, and villages, he had failed, lost another chance.

He had given up and was now on his way home, to the shores of seas that reminded him of Lemuria. He had boarded the plane and now… here you were.

You look up at him with the same eyes he’s been searching for. But now, in this life, they sit beneath crow’s feet. Lines of age carve your face.

He has never seen you like this. The sight steals his breath away.

Gray hair, a kind face, glasses perched on the tip of your nose.

In this lifetime, you lived, longer than any.

He wishes for nothing more than to grow old and blissful with you. But time had not been kind to him.

Instead, he sits next to you, listening to your chatter about your grandchildren, your late husband, and the life he had been denied access to.

Zayne: Soldier reader

He holds a saw and, without a flinch, chops off your leg.

The screams of a young soldier fill the tent, only to be drowned out by the explosions outside. The world was coming undone, with you.

The blood of millions failed to sate its hunger.

But Zayne cannot think about that now. He looks at your terrified expression, the pain and anguish of hurt mixed with hysteria.

"My leg..." you whimper.

He cups your face. You are so young. A peasant, shoved into the war between kings who could not care for life.

"Shhh, poppy will make it better," he murmurs, tipping the warm milk to your lips. "You’ll be fine. I will take care of you."

He sits next to your bed, holding your hand until your eyes droop shut.

There are so many others to tend to. But just for a moment, he steals time to sit with you, to the cruelty of watching your innocence shatter.

His eyes land on your broken spear, all that you had. In a battle of fire and steel, all you were allowed was a rusted spear. His heart twists at the unfairness of it.

Sylus: Elf reader

The old world was fading. That’s why the sight of you. your form, was astounding.

An elf. In the modern world that bowed to mortals. You were a peredhel. Half elven.

But this was not your world. Even if it demanded your very core. Tt was not yours.

You knelt beside a man who bound you in chains of servitude.

Sylus felt bloodlust flood his mind.

His other half, his mate, treated as such.

Immortal, untouched by time… this was perfect. He would have an eternity to remind you of the past.

He would find another way for the world to function, and if that came at the cost of others, so be it.

Ignoring the room full of Onichynus members, he walked toward you, breaking off the chains with his bare hands. Your captor was already headless on the floor.

Without a word, the scent of the past fills his mind as your hand slips into his palm.

You look at him, terrified. And in the tongue of sea elves, you say, "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo."

A star shines on the hour of our meeting.

Caleb: Male reader

Brothers, many assumed. Or cousins, on occasion.

But Caleb always made it a point to state that you were friends, that you shared no blood.

Once, it had hurt you. Your soft, childish heart had feared being the cause of his shame.

If he wanted a friend, you chose to be just that, though the idea of a brother had always been dear to you.

It would be years later when you would come to know his side of things.

How the prospect of being your brother, or a long-lost cousin, had been his greatest nightmare.

Not because he loved you any less. But because he loved you differently.

And when his words are said out loud, he finally allows himself the love he had held back, to have this.

Holding hands, kissing, matching gear, he does it all. Without ever caring about others.

Now that it wouldn’t mean being perceived as your brother, but as your lover.

[peachdues]

Dad Sanemi finding out you're expecting again!

done and done! Also requested by @lisa-257

FINDING OUT YOU’RE PREGNANT AGAIN

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER!

A/N: a continuation of my Bundle of Joy series, in celebration of one year since its publication!

CW: 1.9k • MDNI • fluff • pregnancy mention • Sanemi and Reader are married • slightly suggestive in parts/references to sex

READ BUNDLE OF JOY HERE

It had been a normal day. You’d awoken well before dawn and departed Sanemi’s estate with a quick kiss for both him and your daughter before returning to your own to prepare your training yard from the group of new Juniors being sent for defensive training — your speciality as the Lunar Pillar.

That training had gone about as well as you’d been warned it would — which was to say, absolutely dreadful. Nearly all lower-ranked Slayers were close to passing out not even an hour into their defensive drills.

The only one who’d stood out was the young, eager Kamado boy, who’d offered to partner with to test his footwork.

“Excellent!” You praised as Kamado manage to parry another one of your attacks with a training blade. “The best I’ve seen today!” You whirled around his attempt at an offensive jab with ease. “In fact, I think —“

A sudden, splitting pain ripped across your head, whiting out your vision. There was a sharp, keening ring in your ears, and all at once, the familiar training yard of your estate faded away with a distant, worried call of your surname.

You did not realize you’d fainted until your eyes flittered open, and you found yourself blearily staring at the blue of the sky above.

In your periphery, you saw the clustered, worried faces of your subordinates, anxiously peering down at you.

Before you could ponder exactly how you’d ended up on your back on the ground, your mouth welled with saliva, hot and bitter, and your stomach lurched.

You’d barely managed to flip over to your knees before you began wretching. Between the great, shudderkng gasps of air you managed to gulp down, you did not see your crow take off from its nearby perch with a hurried beat of its wings.

You’re fighting to rise to your feet when the tension in the air noticeably shifts. A sudden electricity settles over the juniors, a hushed murmur snaking its way through the throng.

The crowd of Slayers swiftly parts around as the Wind Pillar furiously makes his way toward you.

You’re still crouched on one knee, hand pressed to your mouth in some futile effort to keep the contents of your breakfast from making a reappearance splattered across the dirt.

Your husband kneels down next to you, his warm, comforting hand resting between your shoulder blades. You fight the urge to lean into him; the morale of the greater Corps is just as important as their training, and it would only be undermined by the sight of a vulnerable Hashira.

But Sanemi knows how to read you better than anyone, and he must sense your hesitation. “Whoever hasn’t resumed training by the time I stand is being sent to my estate for obedience lessons.” He barks.

There’s a pause before he adds, “And I don’t use training swords.”

Though you’re fighting to keep from dry heaving into the dirt, you can’t help the small smile that forms on the corners of your lips at the flurry of anxious movement and the telltale sound of practice weapons colliding in choreographed defensive maneuvers.

Sanemi’s tone is much softer as he murmurs your name. “Can you stand?”

You manage a stiff nod. The white-knuckled grip on his hand as you rise on shaky legs would crush the fingers of anyone else that wasn’t him.

Sanemi’s hold on you remains steady as you stand, and he is right there when your knees buckle, his body pushed against yours to keep you upright.

Gently, Sanemi eases you back down to your knees. He squats beside you, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist for extra support.

Your eyes lift to his, and with a groan, you know his orders before he speaks them.

“Kocho’s. Now.”

You shake your head. “I have to finish their training —“

The Wind Pillar stands then, and though you cannot see his face, you can imagine the twist of his mouth; the hard look in his eyes.

“All of you!” His raised voice startles several of the junior Corps members, some dropping their training swords as they stand at attention. “Defensive training is finished for the day. Fuck off to the Love Pillar’s estate.“

You flick your eyes up to see the gaggle of young slayers staring wide-eyed and anxious at your husband.

“Now!”

The younger Corps members jolt into action, quickly putting away the tools and props you’d organized for the day and gathering their things.

Sanemi turns his attention back to you. He waits until the last of the trainees departs your Estate with a respectful but hasty bow, before he gathers you up in his arms.

“You must really feel bad if you’re not bitchin’ me out about carrying you.” Sanemi frowns as you loop your arm over his shoulder.

Your eyes remain squeezed shut against your nausea, and you managed nothing more than a grumbled shut up as Sanemi hastily makes his way toward the Butterfly Mansion.

You try and focus on Sanemi’s steady warmth as it bleeds into you; the familiar and comforting scent of sweet matcha that lingers on his skin, a welcome distraction from the way your head spins and aches.

The soothing hallmarks of your husband almost lull you to sleep, when the image of the other half of your heart — of cherub cheeks and a mop of white hair just like her father’s flashes through your mind.

Your eyes suddenly fly open, wide and anxious.

Your daughter. Because you’d been dealing with the bulk of junior slayers, Sanemi had been tasked with keeping your daughter occupied for the day. You’d last seen her earlier that morning at his estate, happily stumbling after a butterfly in her father’s garden.

You stiffen in Sanemi’s arms. “Where is —?”

“She’s with Uzui’s girls,” he’s quick to reassure, and he twists his head to press a soothing kiss to your temple. “I’d brought her with me to discuss training plans when your crow arrived. Hinatsuru offered to take her so I could check on you.”

It does little to soothe the pit in your stomach. “I don’t wish to burden them —“

“They insisted,” Sanemi says simply. “They all jump at the chance to watch her — Uzui, too.”

He wasn’t wrong; your daughter had the entire Uzui family wrapped around her tiny fist.

Sanemi squeezes your waist. “She’s fine — and she’ll be more than happy to see her Mama later. Let’s focus on getting you checked out for now.”

—

You arrive at the Butterfly Mansion in record time. You have to fight the Wind Pillar before he’ll put you down and allow you to walk into the Manor on your own legs.

Sanemi acquiesces, but his arm does not leave its stabling place on your waist.

The Insect Pillar, thankfully, is home and able promptly guide you into a private examination room she reserves for your peers. A quick draw of blood into a glass vial later, and Kocho whisks back to her office to analyze it.

Sanemi sits with you the whole time, chatting with Kocho, his arm around your shoulders, his thumb turning soothing circles into your skin.

But the longer the two of you wait after the petite doctor leaves to run her tests, the more your anxiety mounts.

Your nerves must have begun to sink beneath Sanemi’s skin, for he’d left the examination room a few minutes prior in search of the Insect Pillar, nearly as desperate as you to know what she’d found.

He hadn’t yet returned, leaving you to chew anxiously on your thumbnail, your foot jiggling where it hung over the edge of the table where you sat.

Another minute or two passes, and then the door to the examination room flings open with a start. Faster than you can blink, the Wind Pillar is striding toward you with a broad smile on his face.

“What is —?” Sanemi’s hands — battle-worn and rough — are gentle as they cradle your cheeks, and he silences your question with a sweet but deep kiss.

“You’re pregnant,” he breathes excitedly against your lips, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “You’re pregnant. Kocho confirmed it.”

His eyelashes tickle your cheeks as he kisses you again and again, Sanemi beaming between each eager touch of your lips.

“That didn’t take long, did it?” You tease. “I mentioned wanting another child not even two months ago

“Who am I to deny my wife what she desires?” he grins with equal smugness and elation. “Especially when she asks so sweetly, all bent over for me —“

You clamp your hand over his mouth. “Shush,” you hiss, though you can’t fight your own smile. “Kocho can hear everything —“

“I knew it.” Sanemi boasts, stepping back to bring your knuckles to his lips, his eyes shining. “I knew when you asked for yudofu twice this week that you were pregnant —“

“I’ve always liked yudofu.”

“It was all you ate last time,” and his grin is broad. “Couldn’t get you to choke down anythin’ else for a solid month at one point. Drove me fuckin’ nuts.”

Sanemi’s lips press to your ear as he leans in close, his voice quieting to a sultry whisper. “And you’ve been asking me to take care of those pretty breasts of yours more frequently, haven’t you?”

Your cheeks burn a deep shade of crimson. It was true — they’d been aching and sore. So tender that you’d even contemplated foregoing the sarashi bindings you wore beneath your uniform shirt.

So you had; once, a few weeks earlier.

You hadn’t made it out of your bedroom before you’d been caught by your husband, bug-eyed and blushing as he gaped at your partially-exposed chest. Your uniform shirt had closely resembled his own without the security of your bindings, and yet you’d known, thanks to your skirt, that your attire likely bore a resemblance to that of the Love Pillar’s.

You’d both ended up late to training that day.

Since that day, Sanemi had been more than eager to continue helping after you’d insisted his hot mouth and expert tongue were capable of alleviating some of that tender ache.

You want to groan at yourself. It should have been obvious, once it was clear that your sore chest had not been heralding in your monthly cycle.

But before you can, Sanemi resumes lavishing you with his joyful kisses.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He murmurs against your lips, nuzzling your nose with his. “You’re a goddamn goddess, you know that? So fuckin’ beautiful.“

This time, Sanemi tilts your head so he can deepen his next kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth the moment you open for him.

“Thank you,” he breathes, thumb stroking your cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“You did just as much work as I did,” you chuckle between his slow, sensual kisses. “Arguably more.”

He pulls away with a light huff, the hand on your cheek sliding to cup the back of your head and bring you in tight against him.

“I ain’t ever gonna stop thanking you,” Sanemi whispers reverently against your hair, his fingers trailing up and down your spine. “‘M never not gonna worship the ground you walk on for makin’ me a father. Not in a hundred years.”

Whether it’s because your emotions are already high out of elation over your news, or because Sanemi’s words — so earnest and full of love — strike that soft part of your heart reserved for him and him alone, your eyes burn with tears.

And even Sanemi’s voice cracks as he whispers, “Thank you. Thank you for choosing me.”

REBLOGS/COMMENTS/LIKES ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

[leighsartworks216]

Love Me, That's All I Ask Of You

Sylus x gn!Reader

Apparently my brain can only cope with angst if it has a happy ending rn @comatosebunny09 YOU DID THIS (/positive)

Inspired by this post

Title from "All I Ask Of You" from Phantom of the Opera

Warnings: blood, injury, self-destructive behavior, swearing, requited unrequited love, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, kissing, ignoring the red string of fate, jealousy, soft Sylus

Word Count: 1,900

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The repetitive thwack of the punching bag keeps you going. Harder and harder, faster, more precise.

Your knuckles are bleeding. It stains the vinyl of the bag. They sting with every slight adjustment of your hand, with every punch. They’re probably misaligned, too. On the verge of breaking. But it’s not enough.

Sweat drips down your forehead and back. You’ve been down here for hours. You don’t want to leave.

It’s so fucking childish - you know that. But it hurts so fucking bad. Hearing the way he speaks to her, like you’re not in the room. The way he seeks out the banter and teasing conversations they share. The way he looks at her…

Is the only thing you’re good for your loyalty?

And it’s not like he hasn’t noticed the way you distance yourself. He’s brought up your over-the-top silence, saying he hasn’t heard your voice in a week. He’s tried asking what’s wrong, but you never answer. And when you stopped sleeping in his room altogether? He looked exhausted the next day, staring after you like he was working to decipher why he’d been left to sleep alone. The only company you seemed to seek anymore was that of Mephisto’s.

God, Mephisto. That crow had shown you their excursion to enhance her ability. You couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction you got when she still couldn’t Resonate with him, whether it’s because she found him “disgusting” or some other reason… But why did he have to look so offended by it?

You hit the bag so hard it rips. Sand pours out of the tear like water, draining onto the floor. You’re mesmerized by it. The slight hiss of the sand moving together, pouring out like a faucet and pooling on the floor into a steadily growing pile. It’s almost soothing.

Almost.

You kick the sand to the side. It fans out across the black floor in an arc of dappled white.

The prickle at the back of your neck puts all your nerves on high alert, but you know not to be afraid of it. You know the source. The cause of all your rage. The last person you want to see right now. You’d even take Little Miss Hunter over him.

You turn and meet his eye. Crimson, sharp with concern to match the furrow in his brow. It burns through you, all too familiar and, once upon a time, comforting. When he could look at you and so easily know exactly what you were feeling, even before your deal. They flicker down to your hands, crusted over with blood.

“It’s not like you to hide away when something bothers you,” he states, shifting his weight to his other foot as he crosses his arms. He’s right, too; for a while now, if something - anything - bugged you, he was the first to know, usually seconds after it started grating on your nerves. Still, you don’t say anything.

Sylus sighs. You’re nothing if not stubbornly persistent. He holds a hand out, motioning toward your own.

You think about obeying. Ever since Little Miss appeared, you haven’t really touched him. It was of your own volition - a sacrifice to pull yourself away and watch from afar - but you can’t deny how much you miss it.

His frown deepens when you stay exactly where you are. “So it’s something I’ve done.” Your face remains set and unemotive. His hand returns to its crossed position, finger tapping against his leather jacket. “Something so terrible you’d rather hide away from me.”

He looks you up and down, studying every small tell he can find, any twitch or involuntary muscle spasm. He doesn’t find any. Another frustrating skill of yours. The only thing he can latch onto is the state of your hands. He’s not used to seeing your own blood staining your knuckles. If you used your bare hands at all, the only blood you’d be covered in when all was said and done was that of your prey.

“And enough to harm yourself.”

He meets your eyes again. It almost feels familiar. That intense insistence on knowing you, on wanting to know every single thing about you even if it takes eons. But now it’s not out of an innate desire to unravel the secrets you wrap yourself in. It’s prying. It’s grabbing bolt cutters and breaking away each chain link one by one.

He takes a slow step forward, testing the waters.

You don’t move.

He takes another, dropping his arms to his side.

You study him in return. He’s tense. You see it in the set of his shoulders.

He’s five feet away when Mephisto appears in a whirl of smoke on your shoulder. He caws twice before projecting a video on a little holographic screen.

Little Miss Hunter, searching for the brooch. Yesterday, Mephisto had snuck it off Sylus’s body and brought it to you. You’d had a brief moment of fun teasing Little Miss with it, silently taunting her as you twirled it lazily between your fingers while she threatened you. You have no doubt after hiding it that it found its way back to Sylus.

You watch his face as he watches the screen. The intensity leaves his eyes, replaced with the calculating stare of a businessman in his trade. He watches her frustratedly try to break the lock on a cabinet, determined to check behind every item on display to make absolutely sure the brooch isn’t hiding behind them. When she turns to the bookshelf in a huff, she pauses. Sylus’s eyes narrow a fraction. She runs over to the shelf and starts emptying it out book by book, fanning through pages for any sign of a secret compartment to hide something inside. There was one book of such a nature; you’d hid the brooch inside of it, just to see if she would be hell-bent enough to search through every single one.

He looks away from the projected images, eyes softer than before. He’s figured you out, you’re sure of it.

“Search me,” he says. It’s not a demand, it’s an offer. Your expression falters for a millisecond, but he catches it. Of course he catches it. He opens his arms, inviting you in. Mephisto’s video feed disappears from view as he flies up to sit on the broken punching bag. “Find the brooch.”

You glance him up and down. There are plenty of places for something that small to hide.

Hesitantly, you step forward. His eyes follow you, but he remains still. This close, you refuse to look at his face. You haven’t been near enough to feel his radiating heat like this in so long…

You feel his sides first. The pockets of his leather jacket, both inside and out, are empty. There’s nothing concealed in his waistband. You don’t look at his face as you reach up to feel along his collar and lapels.

You pat along the length of both his arms. Aside from muscle, you find nothing. You reach into his pants pockets, but the only thing you pull out is his phone. You slip it back in before feeling down the long length of his legs. You pull up the bottom hem of his pants and check the top of his socks that peek out of his shoes, but there’s still nothing there.

You stand up, hands falling back to your sides. You meet his eyes. He doesn’t have the brooch.

Mephisto caws again. You turn to look over your shoulder. Little Miss Hunter, surrounded by a pile of books, triumphantly holds up the red-jeweled brooch, dropping the book you hid it in into the mess. Gentle fingers glide along your jaw to turn your face back to him.

Sylus looks at you in a way you never thought you’d see again. He’s leaned down to reduce the strain on his neck and be closer to you, but there’s still about a foot of distance between you. Even the way he touches you is reserved, like he’s waiting for you to pull away or punch him.

“I’m sorry.”

Your breath hitches. He… apologized? Of all the things he could have said, you never expected that.

“Whatever binds me to her,” he whispers, “it holds nothing to you. I should have made that clear much sooner.”

“What binds you to her?” Your voice is raspy from disuse. His shoulders relax, just so relieved that you’re speaking to him again.

He shakes his head slightly. “A past I should have buried a long time ago.”

It’s vague, he knows it. You wish he would tell you more, tell you exactly what happened that has him so inextricably connected to Little Miss Hunter. But he never pried into your own past, for better or worse. Maybe you both need them to die, buried at least 12 feet under and covered with a block of cement.

You lift your hand to trace his cheek. He sighs, leaning into the touch. Your fingers are rough and cracked, blood drying on your knuckles. The copper twang is hard to miss. He turns his head to kiss your palm, eyes closing in reverence. You fully cup his cheek and draw him in, kissing him softly at first.

Your lips tremble with overwhelming emotion. The anger that burns in your heart is slowly snuffed out by the soothing balm of his quiet sigh, a hushed whisper of your real name, not your moniker. You wonder for the first time since this began if he felt the same loss you did when you began distancing yourself from him. When you went back to your old room instead of sleeping in his bed, if he looked so tired the next night because he couldn’t sleep at all without you there beside him.

You get your answer in the way he desperately pulls you into kiss after kiss, burning with passion and trying to catch up for the time lost. In the way his hands hold your face, tangling with the hairs at the back of your neck as he keeps you close. In the way he sighs and gasps so longingly, savoring everything you give him.

He feels how much you missed him in much the same way. In the way you step closer until your bodies are pressed together. In the way you grab onto his jacket’s lapel. In the way you dig your bloody fingers in his white hair.

You’re both panting when he finally pulls away, breaths mixing in the centimeters between your faces as he refuses to move back any farther, forehead resting insistently against yours. Neither of you say anything for a moment, basking together in the quiet aftermath of the storm.

His hand is warm and gentle when he pulls yours from his hair. He turns it over to press featherlight kisses along your busted up knuckles. “Let’s take care of you, sweetheart, hm?” His eyes are half-lidded with affection when he looks at you. “The auction is tomorrow night. I need to show everyone just who I belong to.”

Your heart skips in your chest as you draw him in again by his leather jacket, biting down sharply on his lower lip. He hisses at the sting, but groans with want when you pull away. His eyes are drawn to his blood on your lips. “I’ll make sure they never forget.”

---

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[maika-aika]

MY SAVIOR

Imma be real chat, idk how to write Sol so I'm just turning off my brain

☆: In which reader beats up bullies like an absolute baddie, making Sol fall in love with them even harder

★: Sol x gn!Reader

☆: Contains; Fluff, mentions of bullying, creepy men eugh, sexual harassment, reader beats them up dw !!, smitten Sol (per usual). I changed some of the main story plot for this fic so it won't be as boring to read lol

"Boo. This sucks"

You muttered below your breath, more than annoyed at the current events laid upon you. You thought that perhaps a small trip to the library would be fine, but as it turns out, your favorite seat by the window is taken by some random stranger.

Perhaps you should've went with Crowe after all.

Oh well, there's really no turning back now since you didn't quite ask where he and his group are heading off too, by the time you get out of the library they could be anywhere in the campus, making you waste even more time.

It would be nice to reclaim your seat, but talking to strangers was never your forte. I mean, sure, you can do it if it's necessary, but for small problems such as these didn't seem that important for you to step up, even though your main purpose was to stay and work in your favorite spot, such a small problem doesn't really require you to speak up and waste your breath.

A small sigh escaped your throat, opting to check out some books instead to pass the time, 30 minutes to be exact.

Dragging the tips of your fingers on every book's spine and reading their labels, taking them out of their shelves before dismissively putting them back again, looping around the library. Nothing seemed to catch your interest no matter what you do.

"Watch it, creep!"

A gruff sounding voice was heard behind the bookshelf you were facing, finally finding something that catches your attention, you took one of the books from the shelf to make a small peephole, making you able to check out what's going on.

Two guys, red and blue unkept hair with piercings on their ears and lips are found harassing another guy with green streaks of hair. It was obvious they were just causing unnecessary conflict out of sheer boredom and degeneracy, but the green haired guy didn't seem to put up much of a fight.

"Playing silent isn't very smart of you, guess I better make you cough out some spunk—!" A heavy blow was dealt to the victim's abdomen as he tumbled on impact with a groan, his misfortune amusing the two bullies as they inch closer and beat him up.

Bullies like them are the usual in this school. You can't really avoid them, like wasps and hornets. Sure, you felt pity, but two bullies mean nothing when they just keep coming back in different forms. Nothing you do to help matters. They're everywhere, and that's that.

But as you were about to walk away, you saw something shiny glint on the fluorescent lights of the library.

"...Is that a knife?!"

How they even managed to slip a knife on school grounds was beyond you. "Not yet talking, ah? Maybe this will make you spit out something, " the red-haired bully chortled, inching the knife closer to the victim's neck. "Something...bloody."

That's it, that's borderline bullying, that's just attempted murder.

You made your way to their area. Your knuckles knocked against the wooden bookshelves catching their attention as their furrowed glares dart towards your figure like predators. "Bullying? Aren't you too old for Hollywood clichés?" You snide in mock boredom.

"Pretty little thing, no wonder this fuckface has the hots for you" the red haired bully remarked with a grin, tossing the knife to his partner and staggard towards you, circling you like a snake, breathing down your neck. "Pretty face with an ugly mouth, why don't you scram and leave our business out of your cute little ass, ah?"

"Leave them alone!"

Eyes snap back towards the green haired guy, he bared a fearful expression, desperate. "It's me you're after, right?! Just don't hurt them!"

"Is he taking the blame for me?" you mused to yourself. Glancing to meet his red-orange eyes, he flinched at your gaze, not really expecting you to look at him. Yet you didn't see how his pupils dilate at the sight of you.

"So now you're talking? Perhaps you could be of use after all, doll" suddenly, you let out a groan as you felt his hand grab the roots of your hair and snapped your face upwards, forcing you to look at the ceiling. "Before we fuck you up, you're gonna watch us destroy your cute little girlfriend"

You flinched, feeling a wet sensation on your neck, was that his tongue?!

The green haired guy tried to run towards you, but a knife was held up against his neck, forcing him to watch you. He was shaking, he was pissed. How dare they lay their filthy fucking hands on your pure, innocent body?!

"That's it, look how helpless you are, can't even lift a finger to help your poor— Argh!" He buckled on impact, your shoe stomped on his own. Taking your chance, you turned around and swiftly grabbed his hair and banged his head towards the concrete. Then, you kicked his body towards the blue haired bully with the knife.

"Gh—?! What the fuck was tha— Hrrk!" The red haired bully hacked up a cough, stumbling to get up. "You bitch!" The blue haired lacky dashed towards you with the knife, but you deflected it by pushing his arm away from your face and hit his knees making him loose his balance and fall onto the floor, dropping the knife.

In a flash, you picked up the knife and grabbed the other bullies hair, tossing him on top of the other red haired bully. A dangerous glint in your eye was seen as you took one of the books from the shelves and raised it high.

"When you see me again, I suggest you run."

The book made contact to their skulls, it was heavy enough to knock them unconscious, sprawled all over the ground, one could almost mistaken them for corpses. Oh how you wished.

After all that's done, you sighed to yourself to clear off the adrenaline during your little rendezvous. Picking up the book from the floor and placing it back on the shelf, and pocketing the knife to report it to the student council later.

Finally, you turned around to help out the guy, but what you didn't expect is his gaze on you, not of fear or disbelief, but admiration.

His heart was racing, his cheeks are flushed, his fingers are twitching, it's almost as if he just saw an angel come to save him. He knew you were amazing, but to see it for his own eyes, to be the one you're protecting, to feel and expericen it first hand instead of his imagination sends shivers down his spine.

"Hey...you still there?"

He blinked out of his trance, vision still a daze. You snapped your fingers near his face to wake him, as he blinked and refused to look at you, a hue dusting his cheeks. "S-sorry" he muttered.

You raised a brow at his random apology "Dont say sorry when you did nothing wrong" you squatted down to his level, he was sitting on the floor with a pretty bruised up face, not to mention, he also has a ton of piercings too. You wonder why those guys would pick on him when he looks just like them, but with a different heart.

"...Are you just gonna stare at me?" Now it was his turn to snap you out of your head, his gaze still at you, but unlike before, he seemed more at ease, softer. "Ah, guess we both have a problem of getting stuck in our heads, huh?" You made light of the situation, smiling at him to ease the once tense atmosphere.

"Come on, it sucks staying on the floor all day" you stood up first and lent out your palm for him to take, hesitance flickered in his demeanor, as if he's contemplating if he's even worthy enough to touch you. A second passes and he's taken your hand.

Once he stood, you've come to realize how tall he actually is up close. "Are you okay? Nothing broken in you?" He shook his head to the side "Not really, just this nasty bruise, I guess" he sighed in annoyance "What about you? They didn't...hurt you in anyways either, right?"

His once soft gaze turns dark and dangerous, an ominous aura surrounds him making you laugh nervously at his sudden change of demeanor "Don't worry! Yea I was kind of harassed, but it didn't go too far!" You replied, flexing one of your arms "And not to brag 'n all, but I did beat them up anyways soo"

You huffed with a proud smirk on your face, giving yourself a playful pat on the back. A chuckle was heard from the male, as once again, that dark expression washes away at the sight of you.

"So cute..."

"What was that?" You leaned in closer to hear his voice better, making him flinch and instinctively look away from you again "...Nothing, you're hearing things" he covered his mouth with his palm, still refusing to look at you.

You stared at him longer before shrugging your shoulders and leaned away, now focusing on the bodies laying on top of each other. "You know...if taken out if context, they look like their cuddling each other" You muttered, placing a hand under your chin to think of a way on how to deal with this mess.

"Pretty good blackmail material if you think about it." His quip lights up a light bulb on your head, snapping your fingers in he process which startled the guy a bit with your random snappy movements "You're a genius! I know just what to do know!"

You gave him a pat on the back and quickly started to shift the bullies into a position where it looks like they're cuddling and took out your phone to post it online, tagging everyone you know in the school, while also giggling like a child pranking their friends.

"Look at this! Those guys look pretty straight and the type to hate gay shit, so once people see this, it's gonna be nothing but public humiliation!" You exclaimed excitedly, jumping on your toes with your eyes shining and turning towards him "I have to pay you back for this amazing idea!"

He stared at you with wide eyes, still processing what happened before a smile graced his lips and a laugh reached his face. His cheeks are pink and his heart racing just by seeing your cute attitude over something so vile like blackmail and online revenge. "Jeez, never knew I'd meet someone so excited over online gossip" he teased.

"Oh hush, gossip is like a virus, it spread suuper~ quickly in a matter of seconds, kind of fitting for them don't you think?" You playfully nudge his chest which gives you an amused look on his face. You two were having so much fun you completely forgot about literal attempted murder.

"Nee, why don't I pay you back with some coffee? For giving me such good blackmail material" you smiled brightly at him, as if you did absolutely nothing wrong and totally didn't beat up two men into unconsciousness. That riled him up so bad.

Of course you're adorable, and by god was that so sexy of you to deal with bullies the randomly switching personalities like it's the most normal thing ever. He wanted to be with you longer. He needed to be with you longer.

"Sure, if that means I also have to pay you back with dessert for saving me" he quips, knowing your love for sweets, watching in adoration as your eyes lit up at free dessert and hastily agreeing to his deal.

"Oh! Let's get you fixed up first at the nurse's office, I can walk you there if you want!" You're too kind, too caring, too much for his heart to handle. He loves this, he loves you.

Oh how he wishes these moments of you would happen over and over again, but for now, he'll relish in your presence, admiring every single being of you. Worshiping his savior.

Eugh I feel like he's so OOC on this one HELP

[smallestapplin]

the heats of a Dhampir

for those unaware, in castlevania SOTN Alucard has a monster form, much like his father, so pair that with vampire's having heats every 4 years and this was born.

Warning! : reader is enby afab, womb fucking, heats, Alucard being a little feral, established relationship, and shifting mid fuck.

minors do not interact!

-

-

Alucard's heat is worst than he thought, his mind cloudy, filling with more animalistic thoughts, his body reacting before he has a chance to process the situation. It made him want to avoid you, and trust he has tried, yet his feet move against him, taking him right back to you or to your home.

Your voice and presence like that of a siren calling to him, luring him in to his doom, your scent keeps him intoxicated and under your spell, though you know not of any of his struggles.

He's your loving and doting boyfriend, though you know something is up with his odd behaviors and getting fussy over your bed, filling your room with various food related items and drinks, while forming your blankets and pillows into a circle.

You awake surrounded, and with the blonde brining you yet another odd shiny item, and cuddling against you with low purrs. You jokingly tell him he must've been replace with a crow for a brain, but he doesn't seem to find it as assuming as you do.

You don't question it, just like you don't question him crawling into your now nest like bed, to leave kisses along your exposed neck. You don't question his needy whine as he slides a cold hand up your loose sleep shirt, cupping your tit in a loving squeeze, as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, licking up the collum of your throat.

Silently pleading for your approval.

He can smell your want before even touching your pussy, smell how you're soaking through your panties.

"Adrian...!!" You squeak, but he's moving so fast! It's like a switch flipped in his mind, and all he can think about is ravaging your body, marking you, scenting you, mounting you.

Your panties are gone in a flash with his head buried between your thighs. Your face goes bright red at the sound of him inhaling your heady scent, a smell mixed of your sweat and arousal, it leaves his mind spinning. You toss your head back with a whimper, feeling his inhumanly long tongue rubbing between your folds, licking your clit and then back down to your weeping hole.

It takes everything in him to eat you out first, a sane part of him wanting you at least prepped for the fucking he knows his going to give you. Your pussy twitches watching him hump the bed, just knowing he's so turned on from your own need gets your body hot, your eyes struggling to not roll back just to see how needy he is.

His tongue pushing into you, the pointed tip just brushing relentlessly against your cervix, easily filling you. You grab a hold of his long blonde hair, gripping onto him like a life line as you buck your hips up, trying to grind against his face. His nose pressing perfectly against your clit, letting him easily overwhelm your senses.

"Adrian, Adrian! M'gonna- gonna cum-!!"

You let out a pitiful cry as he rips himself away from you, denying you your orgasm. His face dripping slick and drool, yet he doesn't care, he doesn't even seem to notice. He tears his pants away, tossing the now scraped fabric aside, freeing his aching cock.

You don't get to admire the beautiful sight of him for long before hes already pushing himself into you.

He's usually so much slower, much more loving towards you, but you're excited to see this new feral side of him. It's like you're truly being taken by a monster, just what you've dreamed of.

Alucard's body shakes, his eyes rolling back as he bottoms out, fully sheathed into your warm wet cunt. He doesn't give you a moment to breathe, his hips seemingly having a mind of their own as he ruts into you. Your legs are over his shoulders, with him leaning over you, his hands on either side of your head letting his sharp claw like nails tear into your pillow.

You cling to his biceps, crying out about how good he's making you feel.

"Oohh fuck! Fuck fuck fuuuck! So good, mm, haa! God, you're...you're fucking me so good. Please more, more ruin me!"

The room echoes with the sound of his hips wetly slapping into yours. He can't bare it, you're pleading sends him spiraling, his head feels like it's filled with cotton, he doesn't feel his body twisting and shifting, his form growing larger and larger.

Leathery wings sprouting from his back, curling around you to hide you from the world, his form drawfs you in size. Hands turning more into scaly claws, ripping your pilllow and sheets beneath you. Your eyes widen as the monstrous sight before you as the horns twist on top his head.

But your attention mostly drawn to the pressure in your stomach, feeling his cock growing bigger inside you, matching the new size of him.

You squirm, but with how he has you pinned you can't move.

"Adrain, wait, h-hold on...hnnn! Fuck, t-too big, I can't take it, i-it's too much!"

He grumbles lowly, harshly slamming his cock further into you, his glowing eyes flickering between the new bulge in your stomach and watching how your pussy struggles to accept his new size.

His roar is deafening as you cum, your walls clenching around him desperate to milk him. Your eyes cross, tears streaming down your face. He's fucking your womb, he's so deep!

His long tongue falls frm his open maw, drool dripping onto your chest as he licks it and the sweat off your skin, purring deeply at the taste of you.

His heavy balls smack against your ass, the sheer weight fuck them telling your fucked out mind just how backed up he is, desperate to fill you to the brim.

Cum as many times as you want, he won't be stopping until you take every last drop of his spent.

[moociaoafterdark]

Primarchs and the birds I think they would be able transform into (and why)

1) Lion - Golden Eagle. Just like lions are called "Kings of Jungle", golden eagles are sometimes called "Kings of Birds". Aside from the naming, I think Lion would love such a magnificent, pompous bird.

2) Fulgrim - Albino/White Peacock. Do I even need to say anything here? Lord Shen looking bastard. Flaunts his gorgeous tail feathers to everyone. Will start screaming at you very loudly if you don't pay him enough attention. That is especially the case if you are one of his brothers. Especially if you are Ferrus. Sorry Ferrus. Surprisingly, though, Fulgrim doesn't turn into a bird very often. Some speculate he regrets choosing the peacock as his transformation. Others believe he loves his human form way more.

3) Perturabo - Red Tailed Hawk. Just like the Heresy is named after Horus, despite Perturabo being the sole reason it got this bad for the Imperium in the first place, red tailed hawk's screech is attributed to a completely different bird. Perturabo will feel a spiritual connection with this bird species, which is why he is able to transform into it in the first place. He does wish the bird was bigger.

4) Jaghatai Khan - Peregrine. Peregrine falcons are the world's fastest birds, and one of the fastest animals on Earth. There's literally no better bird for Jaghatai than this falcon. Probably yells "falcon punch" when he dives in (The Emperor told him to do that to "intimidate his enemies")

5) Leman Russ - Pigeons. Now, fun fact - crows/ravens have a symbiotic relationship with wolves, as they often hunt together and share the spoils. As you probably guessed by now, the ravens/crows are kinda already taken by another primarch (in canon even), so I had to improvise. Enter pigeons. Just like wolves, pigeons got domesticated by humanity and have been our companions for many centuries. Pigeons, just like crows and ravens, are social birds, meaning they live in one big flock and help take care of each other. This is as close as one gets to a wolf pack dynamic in the bird world, so there we have it! Leman does use his transformation mostly for pranks or "party tricks". Never in battle. If you propose him to do that for a surprise attack, you can spot a little bit of a blush, before he angrily tells you off.

6) Rogal Dorn - Arctic Tern. I think Rogal would find the fact that those birds have the longest migration distance (48,700 km to 70,900 km) REALLY fascinating. He surprisingly takes this form very often and for a reason. Up above in the sky he gets a good look at both his own defences as well as those of the Imperium's enemies. Though he doesn't like admitting it, he simply just really likes flying and letting the wind carry him.

6) Konrad Curze - Bearded Vulture. Those fuckers EAT BONES and look like fucking dinosaurs. Konrad would LOVE to terrorize people as this bird. He'll take off the skin and meaty bits in his human form, then transform into a bird to finish the job. By the time he is done - NOTHING will be left of you... GOD I love bearded vultures. FUCKING LOOK AT THEM!!!

7) Sanguinius - Swan. Graceful. Beautiful. A symbol of love. Will break human bones with a flap of the wings (or at the very least make you bleed). Nuff said, even if the choice is a little basic. If you can't find him anywhere, chances are, he is chilling in the garden, swimming in the pond. Make sure to bring bread with you, the good one. You know, the one that's all fresh and soft. If you're still unsure, just call Warmaster Horus, he knows what bread his brother likes.

(Yes, this how swans are rescued. In Sanguinius' case, this is how he is restrained when he is being a tiny bit of a nuisance)

8) Ferrus Manus - Hummingbird. Similar to Rogal and the Arctic Tern, Ferrus would find hummingbirds fascinating by how strong and fast their wings are (and how they're the only birds able to fly backwards). Despite the birds being smaller than some insects, they have caught the attention of one of the biggest primarchs... Which is why it's hilarious when Ferrus, this gruff giant of a man, able to move mountains and wrestle wyrms, transforms into a tiiiiiny bird mid-fight. Well, it's hilarious until you are his opponent and realize you just completely lost sight of Ferrus, until he transforms back into his human form but, by then, it's too late. On the more lighter note, Ferrus loves resting while, in his bird form, nestled somewhere in Fulgrim's hair. Warm, soft AND he can be sure he wouldn't be bothered.

9) Angron - Roosters. Hoo boy. So, roosters kinda have a reputation for being aggressive, easily provoked AND also having a history of being used in bloodsports. However, roosters are very valuable if you intend to keep chickens, as they take care of the hens, protect them and, if raised properly, can actually be great pets. So, over all, we have a loving, protective and loyal bird, who is unfortunately often mistreated and misunderstood, as well as used in bloodsports even to this day, which often leaves the birds aggressive and traumatized... Sounds familiar?

God, I hate thinking about Angron, because the more I think about him, the more I want to cry. I'm actually kinda teary eyed as I'm typing this, haha.

Anyway, to lighten the mood, Angron, with nails or without them, is a local alarm clock. It doesn't matter where you are, you WILL hear his crowing and you WILL get your ass up.

10) Roboute Guilliman - Harpy Eagle. The only bird I don't have explanation for other than it looks cool. And I'm not even a huge Rowboat Girlyman fan. Would love to hear your opinion on why this does or doesn't work. And if it doesn't, I'm eager to hear your alternatives.

11) Mortarion - The Marabou Stork. If you know anything about those birds - you know they were handcrafted by Satan himself. Or, Nurgle, I guess. Morty would love them.

(Above is an attached photo of a very private meeting of the Death Guard Legion. Lord Mortarion is on the white pedestal.)

12) Magnus The Red - The Scarlet Macaw. I swear, Magnus' daemon form is supposed to resemble the scarlet macaw. The resemblance is uncanny. Perhaps he was always meant to be the Emperor's "parrot on the shoulder", instead of, what, powering the Golden Throne instead of the Emperor? Yes, he sits on his dad's shoulder and makes snarky remarks to everyone. Malcador once threw a shoe at him for that.

13) Horus Lupercal - Bald Eagle. Actually NOT bald, just like Horus isn't actually naturally bald, because he SHAVES. The fandom lied to me, this whole time I thought Horus was jealous of his father's and some of his brothers' hair, when in reality he CHOSE to be bald!

... Anyway, high key Horus (before the heresy) is the Imperium's poster boy, so it's only logical to give him the bird that is essentialy a US mascot. He loves perching very high and enjoying the winds stroke his feathers. Also, if you kiss him on his forehead, while he is in the eagle form, he will get all giddy and happy. Horus also takes his bird form to play with Sanguinius, trying to race with him in the skies. Goofs.

14) Lorgar Aurelian - The Mourning Dove. In Christianity, the mourning dove is used to represent the Holy Spirit. It's generally a bird that is associated with spirituality, being a symbol of peace, love and faith. It would be a crime for me not to assign this bird to Lorgar. In the early hours of the morning, Lorgar would take this form to coo prayers in the language no one will ever understand, making it somewhat safe for him.

15) Vulkan - Crested Auklet. These birds are mostly found nesting on volcanic islands, such as Kuril Islands and Sakhalin island. They also live in huge colonies and can form strong bonds with each other. I think this bird would remind Vulkan less of himself and more of Nocturne... Which is exactly why he would choose this bird for transformation. He is very cuddly in the bird form and smells like tangerines too. Just... Don't hold him for too long. Vulkan, even as a bird, is still a living furnace.

16) Corvus Corax - Common Raven.

... Do I need to say anything?

17) Alpharius and Omegon - Emus. What better birds for the local "Just according to plan" guys than the ones that literally won a war against humans. Seriously, what the fuck, Australia?

And as a little bonus:

The Emperor of Mankind - Cassowary. You thought it would be another eagle? Or, perhaps, the emperor penguin with the "penguins of Madagascar" joke thrown somewhere in there? Nah. He gets the bird that is literally THE tired single father of the birds. On the other hand, though, the Emperor gets to harass people in the cassowary form. Imagine having the honor of being invited to the Imperial Palace itself and as you explore you get approached by a huge, dangerous looking cassowary. You manage to befriend it, even fed it some food you had on you, before you hear panicked Custodes running in your direction, screaming for the Emperor to stop harassing the guests. The cassowary then proceeds to book it, screaming back in the very human voice that he can do whatever he wants. And now you have an idea of what a normal Monday in the Imperial Palace looks like to the Custodes.

[kaminocasey]

Personal Space

A/N: I saw art of Jayce invading personal space and realized that Jayce would have no concept of personal space. (Did you see the way that man laid his head in Mel's lap? The way he comforts Viktor?) Also please be gentle with me, this is my first Arcane/Jayce fic lol.

Summary: You really love your personal space, unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looks at it, Jayce also really loves your personal space.

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of angst. Jayce Talis has no sense of personal space. Kissing. Parties. Protective!Jayce.

Pairing: University!Jayce Talis x University!Reader

“It’s looking like it’s not going to be finished in time to show the professor…” Jayce grumbles to himself, looking up at the chalkboard full of equations and symbols that you don’t understand. 

You’re studying literature. Jayce is studying science. Opposites. Yet, you know what they say about opposites attracting. Like magnets. That’s you and Jayce. Though, you suppose Jayce probably wouldn’t understand that phrase unless it’s only referencing magnets. 

That’s the thing about the two of you. Before meeting Jayce, you couldn’t stand to let anyone in your personal space. You didn’t like people touching you but then this guy came along and it was obvious right from the start, he’s the touchy type. And suddenly, you found yourself not minding. 

“Look at this.” Jayce grabs you, pulling you in front of him so that his front is pressed up against your back. 

Gods, he’s so warm. You can’t help but lean against him as he rests one hand on your hip and then points to all the things on the chalkboard with the other, explaining every single point and fact to you. You have no idea what the hell he’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter. 

So much for personal space.

~*~

“Read to me.” Jayce walks into your dorm room late at night, finding you curled up in your bed, leaning against the wall, reading your book. 

Without an invite, he crawls into your bed and then rests his head in your lap, shutting his eyes. You can tell that he’s been in the lab all night by the way his body just slumps over your lap, his hand resting on your knee. 

“My roommate is sleeping.” You murmur, looking up at her across the room in her bed, her back turned to you as she faces the wall.

“She’s a heavy sleeper.” He shrugs.

You don’t say anything for a moment, earning a sigh from Jayce.

“Resa.” Jayce says your roommate’s name a little loudly.

Your head shoots up to your sleeping roommate’s form who hasn’t even so much as budged.

“See?” Jayce chuckles, glancing up at you slightly.

You let out a fake sigh, rolling your eyes and then start reading out loud. You get about a page in when Jayce pulls your free hand up into his hair, letting you know what he wants. Your fingers curl into his hair and start massaging his scalp. 

He lets out a soft groan and your hand pauses for a moment before he whispers. “Don’t stop… please.” 

You smile softly and start again, turning back to your book and starting to read out loud again. A few moments later, you hear soft snores. 

Later that night, as the two of you sleep, he has you pulled against him as he spoons you. You can’t help but think to yourself the next morning when you wake up before he does, who needs personal space?

~*~

Shelving books on the weekend at the library helps bring in a little bit of income for you to get by while at university. Sometimes, Jayce will come and keep you company while you do so. Which is how you find yourself in this situation.

“So, I was thinking we could leave from here and go straight to Claxle’s party once you’re off?” He gestures to the doors.

You give him a sour face.

“Don’t give me that face. Please.” He gives you a fake pout, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t you give me that face.” You look down at the cart of books, trying to not give in.

At least not right away. 

Every time you pull books off the cart to put back onto the library shelves, he takes another step toward you, practically crowding you against the shelf.

Does he know he does this to you? Does he do it on purpose?

“I cannot think of anything I’d rather do less than go to Claxle Bogart’s party.” You whisper.

He chuckles. “Oh come on. The parties aren’t that bad.”

You raise your eyebrows in a “oh really?” Kind of way and he rolls his own eyes, leaning off the shelf and stepping closer toward you, forcing you to look up at him. It’s times like these when you’re reminded of how much bigger he is than you. 

“Jayce…” You sigh, your eyes looking up into warm amber eyes.

He sighs your name and it takes everything in you to not go weak in the knees. 

“I’m afraid I won’t be much fun. I just wanna go back to my room and read my book.” You murmur, pulling away to start shelving books again.

“That’s why we gotta loosen you up, sweetheart.” He teases you, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to look into his eyes again. 

You can’t help but go warm at the nickname and at the begging eyes. Unfortunately, you know there’s no saying no to this man. You think he knows that, too.

~*~

There’s a band playing somewhere in the hall of this dorm that has the door open so the music can trail out throughout the party. This is definitely not your scene, but as Jayce guides you through a crowd of people, his hand on your lower back, you can’t help but lean into his side. When you look up at him, he’s just looking forward, unaware of the effect he has on you. 

“Do you want a drink?” He leans down, close to your ear.

The warmth of his breath sends goosebumps down your entire body. You nod, leaning against the wall, needing a moment to collect yourself. Watching as he disappears into one of the rooms, you look up at the ceiling, breathing deeply. The music still feels way too loud and you feel exposed.

The dress was Jayce’s idea. He had told you that you looked great and you thought maybe you could trace a hint of pink in his cheeks when he said it, but you’re not convinced that wasn’t just your brain hoping. 

You hear your name from an unfortunately familiar voice. 

“Claxle.” You sigh, rolling your head to look at the annoying host of the party.

He leans against the wall, invading your personal space in a way that feels absolutely wrong. This is way different than Jayce. Jayce’s presence is warm and sweet. This is cold and makes you feel like you’re being stared at by a predator. 

“You don’t normally come to my parties.” He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving you.

Your head turns toward the door that Jayce went in and you debate whether or not you should go find him. 

“Jayce convinced me.” You tell him.

“Talis, huh?” He smirks. “I always thought there was a little something something with you two. Then I figured maybe he was just using you to help him with his homework or something.”

You glare at Claxle. “Jayce is a scientist. I think he can manage his own homework. You know, speaking of, I think you’re the one who needs a tutor since you’ve not turned in an assignment to Professor Ulsa.” 

You give a polite and fake smile to let him know you’re done with the conversation. Unfortunately, Claxle gets a look in his eye as he looks you up and down.

“You do realize you’re wasting your time with Talis, right? Saw him cozying up with some blonde girl the other day anyway.” He smirks. 

“Okay.” You reply, refusing to give him any sort of reaction. 

Before Claxle can say anything else, Jayce finally makes his way back over, handing you a drink with a gentle “hey”. You smile up at him, ignoring the other guy. Claxle walks away without even acknowledging him. 

“What did Bogart want?” He asks. 

You shrug with an amused look. “To let me know I’m not your type and that you’re only friends with me so I can help you with school.” 

“What?” He glares, looking away into the crowd for Claxle. 

“Hey, it doesn’t matter.” You try to pull his attention back to you. 

Jayce’s gaze softens when he looks back down at you, nodding reluctantly. He’s normally so level headed, you’ve never seen him that worked up over something some jerk says.

“Let's get out of here.” He mumbles, taking your drink and sitting it down with his on a table so that he can grab your hand and lead you up the steps to the roof of the dormitory. 

He’s quiet for a while as he looks out over Piltover. 

“Jayce?” You tilt your head, watching as he’s leaning against the edge of the building.

He turns his head toward you and then slides his hand down to your hip, looking down at his own hand as he does so. This feels different than usual. 

“Why don’t you like me?” He murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. 

“What?” You ask, confused. “Of course I like-”

“No… that’s not what I-” He groans softly, clearly frustrated. “Claxle was wrong… you are my type.”

Oh.

“I am?” You can’t help but whisper, terrified that if you talk too loudly, this moment could be ruined or taken away from you. Or maybe you’re just too used to working in a quiet library.

“Of course you are.” He smiles that charming smile that makes your chest tighten. “I’ve only been flirting with you for the past two years.”

“Two years?” You ask, incredulous. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He shrugs. “I’m shy?”

You playfully slug him and he laughs, pulling you closer against him. 

“I’ve been trying… I cuddle with you, I touch you…” He murmurs. 

“Jayce…” You shake your head, amused. “I thought that was just you being touchy.” 

“You didn’t notice I’m only that way when I’m with you?” He grins.

You shrug. “I guess not.”

“Will this help?” He asks, leaning down and brushing his soft pink lips against yours.

Finally, you think to yourself. 

His lips are just as soft as you’d thought they’d be. It seems like he’s been wanting to do this for just as long as you have.  

When he pulls away, you shake your head. “Need a little more help.” 

He chuckles against your lips before deepening the kiss, his hands eagerly finding your hips to hold you right where you are, holding onto you like you’re this man’s anchor. 

Yeah, you think, there is no personal space when it comes to Jayce Talis. 

And you’re absolutely fine with that.

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 5

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability, mentions for Rafayel stories, and myths, violent imagery and arguments.

Word Count: 5456

Written: 9th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. Rafayel is so hard to write for a lot of reasons, but also is one of my favourite characters in any story because he's just... contains multitudes. I also feel like he's the one who struggles most with all these other people in MC's life. I also feel like he's so fixated on pain, and struggle, that he forgets kindness can be offered to him with no price. Anyway, I enjoyed working on this bit a lot even though it was hard. Enjoy! Also as a side note, the song of choice I can only partially explain, Rafayel out of all the boys makes me think of regency romance on a level I truly cannot explain. (even though he doesn't have a dancing scene... YET!!)

Now Playing: All I Want, by Kris Bowers

Masterlist AO3

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Rafayel loves you. That is never in doubt. He finds himself bitter and aching that there is so much you have shared that only he remembers.

Sometimes it comes out in harsh words or lies. Even though he knows it is unfair to punish you, when you can't control it.

Mostly, however, he tries to enjoy moments with you. Hoping that something will spark, and you will look at him and see long years of history.

Remember his longing and his love in all its forms.

Remember all the facets that make him up. Perhaps it's cowardice to want your memories to fill in the blanks that he is too scared to tell you. Blood on his hands, heart offered up. He does not want to see your expression change. For you to fear or hate who he is… who he can become.

He thinks about beautiful blue seas, and the breath stolen underwater.

When he finds himself thinking of the beach he waited at, every year, he pushes himself into his work.

Now, he spends most of his days at your side. In case you need him. He watches closely, because he's used to you hiding your struggle from him. When you're sick, you've hidden it, he's reminded you that you're not a superhero. As much as you put on a brave front for every kid that sees your hunter reels.

Rafayel has watched this version of you for a long time, before he finally met you again. Properly.

He has seen so many renditions of you, no matter who you have been… he has loved you. He has and will love you for eternity and beyond, even if it might be easier not to.

Rafayel has finished most of his work for his exhibit, as he stares at the final piece that is missing something that he cannot find.

Sun blends with sea, as the tides recede. As silver bones are left behind to bleach.

He stares and stares and nothing comes. Just that vague, irritating feeling of incompletion.

"You're going to burn a hole in it, fish."

"Sylus, leave the man alone, he's actually working."

Rafayel huffs… and therein lies his other problem. Your consortium of bizarre attachments. If he were less observant, he could pretend they see you as a friend only.

But he is a man who can kill another, who can plan his revenge, who can hide in plain sight. Who is capable of sneaking up even on the N109 Zone Leader.

So he can see and he can't ignore. He also can't ignore that they comfort you as well.

You have teased him for being childish, and he thinks the irritating feeling in his gut, that demands he steal all of your time, that you are his bonded partner, confirms such a claim. He is not possessive of a lot… your heart is his.

He tries to ignore the doctor and the crow. Staring straight ahead, hoping that answers will come to him, but he cannot. He can feel their presence and it is on the edge of his consciousness. Poking at it.

Like he is a crab on the beach and a child wants to watch his pincers clasp.

"Maybe you should take a walk, get some fresh air."

"Do you want the fish to suffocate, Doctor?"

"Truly, you are incapable of not prodding at others aren't you?"

He huffs this time, turning his face to look at the two. Zayne is typing on his laptop, barely looking up to converse, while Sylus is on his tablet, glasses on the end of his nose.

The two look eerily similar like this.

Rafayel tries not to compare the doctor to the crow, it's unflattering. At least the doctor can heal your wounds.

When he speaks though, his irritation comes out in the snippy tone he takes, "Your opinions are noted, dumb crow. Then swiftly discarded."

The man does that irritating little laugh he does, that is more a puff of air than a real laugh. Like it's too much effort to feel anything, and Rafayel wants to pluck his feathers.

How you can tolerate him, he'll never know.

At least the hunter is quiet…

Still, he wants to get out of here, they make it harder for him to think, and he can't make progress like this. So he stands, shrugging at them and heads towards the door, as he goes to make through he almost collides with you and Xavier returning from the hospital. He isn't surprised when you move out the way just in time, you're a hunter and your training has made you capable. Still as he greets you, you hesitate, before tugging at his shirt before he can leave.

He looks down, your hand holding onto the fabric, not tough enough to tear, but enough to halt his movements.

"Are you alright, Raffy?" 

It shouldn't surprise him that you notice the tick in his jaw, or the stress under his skin. It isn't the first time, and you've shown many times to have been able to pick out when his mood has dropped. You're observant as part of being a hunter, you're careful, you pay attention. You're smart.

You care.

About him, about his mood… about his life. His irritation settles, soothes at the edges, and his smile is easier, "I need some fresh air. Want to come with?"

You hesitate and he watches the fear enter your eyes. Wavering. You walk between the hospital and the apartment when you don't take Zayne's car, but that's the extent of your journeys. He wants to pull you by the hand… make you see the sea with him.

"Where are you going?"

"Whitesands."

It's far enough removed, very few people visit it, and he will get a walk somewhere familiar. Perhaps it's familiar enough for you to follow him.

He extends his hand, carefully, trying to keep the need from bubbling to the surface. If he could take you away far from here, he would. Take you to everything he's ever seen, so he can see it with new eyes. Yours.

Your hand stretches out, and your fingers tremble, before you finally take his, "Alright, if it's quiet." Your request is one he'll happily grant. Both of you alone, he can't think of a better way to spend his time.

The walk is kind to him, as they head towards Whitesand Bay, he gets to keep your hand in his, listen to the song of the world, and watch as your steps become lighter. You stop staring down at your arm and checking around you, eventually focusing on the sky and him.

As feet crunch on white sand, and approach the edge of tides. You let go of his hand to walk a little further out, and he watches. As you crouch, as you reach fingers to the water.

Rafayel paints everything he thinks is beautiful, tragic, or brings pain to his soul. You hurt him too, in ways he aches for. Like he is placing his hand in a burning flame, and holding it there, because the longer he holds it, the closer he gets to what he craves.

Like there is an answer there, waiting over the edge of agony. If he tumbles after it, he'll find what eludes him.

There's a feeling in him that wants to drown you with him. He could swim out, with you in his arms, and pull you under. On the edge of the question of life, before he gives you the means to breathe alongside him. He's warned you of the nature of sirens, and you've looked him in the eye and told him you don't fear him.

You should, though, he knows. You should fear the ocean's grasp as well as his own, because he wants your heart for his.

As you turn your eyes back to him, soft smile tugging the scar on your face, his heart thunders and then stills. Flames and agony. The need to touch and hold it in his hand… Lit against the contours of your face, and the glimmer in your eyes.

His inspiration is always closer than he thinks.

—-----

Rafayel dislikes your companions.

The prince gets to spend all of his time with you, working together, protecting each other. Where Rafayel had to convince you to be his bodyguard, just for a fraction of that time.

The doctor is who you trust with your injuries and your wounds, he is who you go to when something hurts. You hid your sickness from Rafayel before now, so he didn't doubt your capabilities.

The crow… the crow gets under his scales. Like a tick. Biting and bleeding and ruining his skin. Yet you trust him, a man who built all his life on violence. Who has blood on his hands. Who is open about his sins… While he cannot tell you for fear of the look in your eye changing.

It is safe to say the crow is his least favourite. The one who grinds at him most, who plucks and pulls. Like a hook in his upper lip. He dreams of drowning the man… he would if the look in your eyes didn't stop him.

So he hates them, he thinks. The anger and irritation and the childish petulance. He wants your attention and he fights for it, he wants you to trust him most. It took too long to gain entrance into your home, reminding himself that time builds strong bonds. That he should be patient. He did not want to scare you, to startle you. Like you are a small fish and he is a bigger… hungrier beast.

There is no peace when they are around, and normally pain brings him inspiration, an answer on the end of a paintbrush. A vision in the agony.

Whatever feeling they inspire is not pain, and it brings him no art to create, no feelings to share in blues and greens. Nothing to show for it.

He has thankfully, however, finished his final piece. So there is a relief in him, even as the crow looks down at him, eyebrow raised.

Rafayel ignores the man, looking straight ahead, signing his work. Paintbrush steady. Steadier than the racing heart in his chest.

He will not lose a game of chicken with an overgrown bird.

So when the crow turns to walk away, he is relieved, and so smug, until he hears a crunch. Looking over quickly, and staring down at the floor.

"Ah, what a shame."

One of Rafayel's paintbrushes snapped in half by the stupid crow's foot.

He levels a glare at the man, "Are stupid crows clumsy too?"

"Are all fish messy? Your things have spread across the apartment."

"I'm working!"

"Quite diligently I see, despite galavanting off to the beach. Inspiration was it?"

The look on the crow's face is too level. It's too calm. He does not respond to the rise of Rafayel's voice. He does not flinch at the glare in his eyes. He does not move, from where his foot is still on his brush.

It is a feeling of irritation that burns and scorches where it stands.

He has to tolerate and bite his tongue. He has to think and be careful. He has to share, where he does not want to share.

You are his heart, why does he have to look at the eyesore in his vision, and think about his hands on you too.

His anger bubbles and froths and overflows. A pot that has been left, and forgotten. You will forget him too, in favour of a crow! A stupid. Foolish. Irritating crow.

He stands and presses forwards, fangs bared and sharp. He is a predator of the seas. This man is nothing. He is a god of the tides. This man is a petty criminal.

Rafayel knows you better, he has seen more incarnations than this man can even comprehend, and he dares to play at favour?

"If you wish to be drowned, crow, I am happy to oblige."

Eyebrow quirks at him, a look in his eyes that Rafayel can't make out, but it glitters and twinkles, "I'd love to see you try, fish, but I'm afraid you couldn't hope to kill me."

"I am more than willing to try."

"Then you'll simply be hurting your 'beloved bride', wouldn't you?"

He snarls, a low noise in the back of his throat, hand reaching out to grab at the man's throat. To snap it, bite through it, to cut his voice permanently, he isn't sure. It will hurt, and he will deserve it. For calling you what he cannot. Too many memories that you cannot hold in your heart.

The crow steps forwards, as if daring him to try. To wrap his hands around his throat and twist. To slice his throat open with a dagger. To see. To show him if it's true.

"Raffy?" Your call comes from the side, stumbling in, voice wary.

His hand hovers, he debates. Thinks for a moment. Stares at the crow's adam apple as the man swallows his laughter down. The dare is there, waiting for him to take… and they both know he won't.

So he rips his hand back, offers you the kind of smile that shakes at the foundations, "Hey cutie, I was just going out for the exhibit."

You open your mouth to speak, and he shakes his head, grabbing his canvas. Lifting it far too quickly to be safe, and turns on a heel, "I'll see you later."

The speed he leaves the apartment leaves the door frame shaking behind him. Heading out, running from the place. From the crow's dare, from the wary look in your eyes.

From the inadequacy… the guilt… the irritation. The pain.

What lurks over the abyss could just be nothingness. A world where you don't want him, or need him. Where without your memories you do not look at him, hear him call you his beloved bride, and love him as you once did. Where his bond with you is not enough, and he simply has to experience the heart that cannot beat for anyone but you.

That he has lied and hidden and kept from you for too long, that a criminal with blood on his hands who does not hide… claims your heart for his.

His heart…

There is pain behind his art and in his soul. A reminder that he cannot always be with you in every life, and he prays this is not one of them. An alter of suffering that he would cut his chest open at, if you would always look at him.

—--

You cannot stop thinking about the look on Rafayel's face.The agony in his eyes as he'd darted from the room. You'd asked Sylus who had shrugged, "I broke his paintbrush." But not explained further.

You'd seen Rafayel break his own paintbrushes in his studio, stepping on them, falling over them. Resulting in a trip to the hospital because of how messy things were.

You help Sylus clean up some of the mess, containing it in a corner with the rest of Raffy's things, hoping it would alleviate some of the feeling you can't seem to shake in the air. A stagnation. It feels like decay, and you can't open enough windows to air it out.

If Sylus decides not to share, he won't. You've known him long enough, pried at his secrets enough, that you don't waste the strength anymore. He shares what he wants, when he wants to.

So you abandon the effort and go about your day. It drags. Waiting for time to pass, working through your exercises, before you have to leave.

As the time approaches, the clock hand moving, it begins to click harder. The sound impending.

You think about other exhibits, the amount of people, the noise…

It cuts through the excitement, the peace of the wait, the boredom.

You pause as you're getting ready, staring at the prosthetic arm flexing in front of you. The movement of metal fingers, the clear indication of your injury… your failure.

You're going to see Rafayel. A man who people will be looking at. Commending.

Taking photos of.

Do you really want to be stood next to him like this? To draw attention to yourself and him?

An icy chill runs up your spine, and you stop. You have to get these clothes off. You have to cancel. You can't go.

You can't be there.

You feel the chain on your ankle, it tugs and it pulls, and it drags you back. The beast that settled, has woken up. It is hungry and it is angry, and it is laughing at you for trying.

A mistake, this was a mistake. You made a promise to someone you care about, and now you're going to hurt him. Either way, you're going to hurt him. Make him look stupid. Make him hate you.

You're going to break this fragile peace. Bring that agonised look into his eyes again.

Take from a man who gives you so much. Love, affection, kindness, warmth, acceptance, joy.

You are ripping all those things from his hands, and returning nothing.

"Kitten?" You stumble, when the voice startles you out of your thoughts. Falling back onto the bed, looking up as Sylus enters, not bothering to wait for an answer. Ever since your mission had gone wrong, he has been far less hesitant. If he could ever be said to be hesitant.

When he sees you sitting, tears in your eyes, he approaches you, kneels in front of you. Hands on your knees. Soothing your skin. His skin is so warm, it's like a brand. You almost pull away. On fire, itching, hurting. He notices your flinch and pulls his hands away. The relief of the cool is intense, and you choke on the feeling.

You're the mistake. Too fragile to be touched. Too useless to be helpful. Too much work.

He takes in your rumbled clothing. The shirt half pulled off, the jacket thrown away from you, the trousers unclasped. You are shivering, and shaking, and while you can see his hands twitching. Yearning, needing to soothe, he knows he can't. So he tries to speak, hesitant now, "Don't you like them?" You think about the time he spent, finding things with Rafayel that are easier to wear. Clasps that can be done easier with one hand, or buttons bigger for your unsteady metal fingers.

Things that require the least amount of struggle. If he could not find them, he had them made.

The two of them, you think as you try to fight through the fog, are dangerous.

You shake your head numbly. "I can't go."

It doesn't require much more from you, even without his eye, Sylus reads people. He reads you. He's said sometimes he cannot understand the workings of your mind, but he improves everyday. It is terrifying to be seen by him. Terrifying for him to look under the rough exterior, to the rougher interior.

You wait for the moment that he realises you're not worth it.

"You'll be with us." He starts, and you look down at where his hand twitches towards you, then back. "You won't be alone."

You haven't been alone, you think. In all the time you've spent with this. This weight, first on your back, then on your ankle. They have come to find you. Looking.

Just like Caleb did.

Is it enough? This could be that wakeup call.

"Rafayel wants you there, he's excited to see you." It is odd. It is hearing Sylus say 'Rafayel' and not 'fish', that jolts you back. Just like the moment you saw them in your kitchen, arguing. Just like when you saw them all walk through that door when the blanket was your only defence.

It is a realisation of how odd this is. How bizarre they are.

It almost makes you hiccup a laugh. The idea of Sylus speaking for Rafayel. You think about how warm he is to you, how he takes your hand easily.

I will always want to look at you.

"What if it's too much work?" You finally manage, the agony lightening so you can speak, no longer tearing at you. Though you can feel the creature on your ankle. Tugging. Like a dog with a chew toy.

"The important things are worth it."

Important.

Learning to use your prosthetic is hard. Learning to trust is hard.

It was with Caleb, it is with all of them. It is a constant struggle. A constant weight. To try.

They catch you, with a security net. Give you space to breathe, so you can stand back up again.

You think about what you want, think about what will make you happy… what is worth living for.

It is the reason to keep getting up.

You want to see Rafayel's work, you want to see the people you care about. You want to keep your promise to a man who values you. A hesitant shaky hand takes Sylus' where it hovers. The way you can watch him heave a sigh, the tension in him easing, as he clasps yours between both of his. Tight, but not suffocating. He grounds you, and it doesn't burn.

"What do you think, Kitten? Do you want to try?"

Sylus has never belittled you for tears, or made you feel your emotions are a mistake. When you are drowning, he offers a hand. When you anger and hurt, he is there, either to join you in your hurt, or to help appease it.

He offers you a choice, and he means it. If you truly do not want to, you know he will accept it. If you want to, he will help.

"I want to try."

He nods, pulling you up with him, to stand, straight into his chest. So that you can feel his uneven heart beating against you. "Then let's get you ready."

—-----

He should never have left so early. He should have stayed with you.

Rafayel left the apartment in frustration and anger and now he stares at his phone, hoping to see your name pop up.

It is an agitating feeling. To be stood on the edge of the cliff and not know if there's water below.

He has forced himself to listen to Thomas, to go through the motions, to ensure his exhibit is set up correctly. He has sat under too bright lights, feeling himself drying up, as he waits. As the clock hand moves, as he thinks, and he struggles.

If he keeps running, will you stop chasing him?

As his exhibit starts, he checks again, only to see a message from the doctor, 'Good luck today'. He doesn't respond. He stares at it. It's unsettling. He doesn't want the doctor to wish him good luck. He doesn't want his comfort.

He doesn't need it.

Even when his agitation settles a moment, and he hides it from Thomas who asks him why he's smiling. He's not.

That doesn't mean anything.

He does not wave at Xavier as he walks through the door, milling around the paintings quietly. Avoiding the bigger crowds. He tries not to think about the fact that he's come to see.

It doesn't matter.

As time passes, Rafayel fidgets.

Stares at the door.

Fidgets.

Stares at the door.

He walks around the room, passes Xavier, who hands him water quietly, then walks off. He stares down at it, but he's parched, the crowds are tiring him out, the people are talking like they understand him, and he just wants to be somewhere else. So he downs it, and lets the relief of the chill settle in his throat.

He talks absently to people he doesn't really care to listen to. Thomas gives him a talk about doing his duties.

Irritation settles in his stomach. He doesn't care about his duties. He cares about seeing you.

He checks his phone, and is relieved, though irritated, when he gets a message from the crow, 'We're on our way'. He sends back a thumbs up, though it is through a shaky hand. Excitement makes it unsteady.

It is when he is not staring at the door, when he hears your voice behind him. "Raffy?" Pulling away from where he is avoiding Thomas' lectures, he takes you in. Your hand is grasped in the crow's, eyes darting around the room. You're wearing your prosthetic, a dark blue jacket over your shoulders, painted with green and blue flowers. Flared trousers and a light shirt. He absently thinks that the crow's style isn't too ridiculous, if it means you visit his exhibits like this. Like one of the flowers in a garden he wants to take you.

"Cutie!" It is relief and it is the weight of hundreds of years that shed. He waited, he waited, and you came. He takes your hand away from the crow, not without giving a smug little smile, which receives him a smirk, and kisses the back of it. "You made it."

He watches your eyes glisten, he can feel the heat off your cheeks. Not all embarrassment, he knows some of it is stress, but it is enough. "You don't have to stay long." He promises, it doesn't matter how long you stay. You came. You came, no matter what.

You came, and he knows it wasn't easy.

The laugh you release, it trembles, like your hand, but it is accompanied by the small smile he is learning to draw with his eyes closed. "Show me your work?"

"I'll go find the prince, call me if you need me." The crow offers, he leans, kissing your temple, before he leaves. You blink after him a bit, touching where he kissed with your hand, pulling it from Rafayel's grasp, and then look at him. He glares after the man, but doesn't offer much of a response.

"Come on then cutie, you're mine." He doesn't look as he grabs your hand, and he knows he is grinning at you. Pulling you forwards with him, darting to where his art calls for you.

He doesn't notice the chill in your hand, until he eases his fingers over it. Feeling grooves and edges. He almost releases when he realises he has grabbed your prosthetic, you are staring down at it with him.

Rafayel looks at you, tries to read the look in your eyes. It is soft, and awed and gentle. So he raises it to his lips, kissing the wrist. You tremble, blinking, before tightening your grip just a little.

It is the soft, warm look in your eyes, as you tug him forward a little bit more, a laugh bubbling out of you. "Come on Raffy."

He takes you around all of his paintings, and just watches you.

You don't offer him opinions or thoughts often, he has learned if he gives you space to look, you can tell him how you feel. What his art brings out in you. If he looks closely at your face, he can watch it. Trembling in your eyes.

As you flit amongst paintings, like a butterfly amongst flowers, tugging him along with you. He follows willingly.

There are moments when you stop, and your hand twitches out. Like you are holding back the urge to run your fingers over the paint. Tracing shapes, touching at his heart directly.

He wants to tell you that you can do as you please. That you are the one who he wants to understand him most. That his art, and his soul are yours to do with as you like. That you could tear images from his canvas, and he would still paint more for you.

Finally you find yourself in front of his struggle. Bleached bones on the beach, tides easing out. Leaving scars behind.

At the edges of the horizon, the sun rises again. Painting the once dreary sky in a rainbow.

You are the sunrise that greets him, that reminds him that time moves forwards. That there is something to see after the night.

That tomorrow has a chance for better than today.

You bloom like a flower before his eyes, a sight he could never have seen beneath the waves. A reminder of why he came to visit the surface every year. A reminder of all the wonders of land that he idolised as a child.

"Beautiful." Is exhaled, and he is unsure if it was you or him. The twinkling in your eyes, perhaps it was both.

Eventually he feels the strain in your countenance, the exhaustion, so he sneaks with you out of the exhibit. Escaping into gardens that are quiet, and closed to others. A locked gate has never kept him out of anywhere, however.

It is the quiet that settles you, and he settles alongside you. No longer wearing a mask he does not want for people who come to stare at his work. He pulls you amongst flowers, fields of lilies, and whispers of petals.

Secluded and alone. The way he feels best with you.

Lying down in the grass, to look up at the sky, stars twinkling.

It is with the view of the stars that you speak, voice tinged in a guilt he wishes to chase away, "I almost didn't come. I'm sorry Raffy."

His eyes turn to you, to read the draw of your lips, the pain in your eyes, the way you tighten your grip on his hand. Cool metal against skin that reacts to you more than any other. Sensitive, aware.

Your touch will always alight his senses.

He knows the hesitation, he thinks about the way you wavered on the edge, hand extended to you as you feared to take it. He knows that you are adjusting. He regrets asking you to promise, to put that weight on your shoulders.

He is relieved you came. To see him, to stare at the workings of his heart, and yearn to trace it with fingers.

His patience and his need fight often. His awareness of pushing, his desperation. It is hard to balance.

"What changed your mind?"

You edge a little closer on the grass, so that the heat of him spreads over the sensors of your prosthetic. Alongside the gentle stroking of his thumb over your hand. "Sy told me you wanted me to be here… and I wanted to be here for you."

Rafayel's first instinct is the kind of reaction he's seen cats get to water. Hissing and jumping up. Shaking himself furiously.

There is great dissatisfaction at comparing himself to the demons.

There is greater dissatisfaction at the crow, helping him. In any way.

It is a feeling of being pulled back by the scruff of his neck, away from the abyss he seeks out. The fall into the ocean.

The agony on the edge of the conscious.

You poke his cheek with your other hand, then brush hair back and his heart settles its seething. "I'm glad."

"Glad?"

"That they care for you." It is whispered, and it is tentative, and he sees the worry in your eyes.

The fear at his arguments before. The anxiety that you are causing distress.

Forcing them. Making them clash in enclosed spaces. Like caged beasts.

It is the wary voice that calls out to him, tries to ask the question about the pain in him, the voices and the agony ripping and pulling and hurting. The pain that grants him no inspiration.

They care.

A message sent to wish him luck. A quiet presence bringing him water when he dries. A fool giving you the push to move forwards to lead your feet to him.

You have not stopped looking for him and at him, and he has been holding you like a toy he does not wish to share…

It is a feeling he isn't ready to digest or question, not when the stars are bright and you are safe next to him. It is one he will think about in days to come, as he watches the doctor help him clean. As he is offered a pillow the prince favours in order to sleep better.

When the crow argues with him, but gives him food that satisfies a hunger he forgets to appease for himself.

When you do not look at him any less. That he has not lost anything, he is not lesser.

It is a feeling for later.

To help paint canvas he wants to share one day, though pain is absent, and something else glimmers in the sea.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 16

(Azul usually only enters his full Cecaelia form when he is completely submerged in water, as it is hard to move with tentacles out of water. Azul is not the best swimmer, but he makes up for it with how powerful his tentacles are as he can actually do immense damage with them while underwater. There is a small heart shape on his right cheek beneath his eye among the natural dark coloration on his face. He doesn't like this heart very much until the Human points it out, now he thinks it is his best quality because it was enough to draw the attention of the Human in the first place.)

Warnings: yandere, multiple yanderes, platonic and romantic yanderes, bullying, the day of representatives is upon us, Malleus tries, some canon Malleus interests mentioned, unnamed students causing problems, mending some bridges, lending support, light cat vs cat conflict, Dragon, Hellcat, Shinigami, Cervitaur, Nemean Lion, Unicorn, Kelpie, mention of Water Nymph,

~~~~~~~~

This wasn't really how you had expected to spend the day. Through it was interesting at first, after the first hour you and every other companion had already become bored. Every companion except for Malleus.

"This one is a crow gargoyle, made 100 years ago. Out of all the Gargoyles, this is the only one that depicts a crow harpy as a Gargoyle, not to be confused with the crow Harpy Grotesques that line the fencing-"

Grim, Ortho, and Silver were already bored to tears after the long winded introduction to the Gargoyles that lived around Ramschackle as Malleus then moved on to the Gargoyles around the fencing. Honestly, it had been interesting at first to learn about the Gargoyles. Many had history you didn't know and it was always nice to talk to someone about their passions. Given this was the 50th or 51st Gargoyle the Dragon had introduced you to, you were a little bored.

It was while you were envying Grim- who slept soundly in your arms, the both of you atop Silver's back- you heard a strange sound on the wind. The sound was as if there were several voices shouting over one another. As you listened attentively to the sound, you heard a higher pitched cry that made your heart seize.

"What was that?"

"Hmm? That is a Grotesque-"

"No, not the Grotesques, Tsuno, that scream. What was the scream?"

Malleus paused his lecture to listen, Ortho and Silver doing the same before another high-pitched scream split the air again. Silver was first to turn and head towards the direction of the sound, your other two guards easily keeping pace with the Cervitaur. The increased jostling woke Grim who scowled and looked around at whatever was so important to draw your group away from the monotonous Gargoyles.

It wasn't hard to find the source of the sound.

"Come on, you stupid cub! You said you wanted to play, so we are just trying to play! Don't hide from us right after we start playing."

"Leave me alone!"

The crying voice of a young child made your blood boil as you saw the scene playing out in front of you. There were several students you didn't recognize- judging from their arm bands and magestones, they were from Heartslabyul- and they were heckling what seemed to be a young boy who hid in the roots of a tree. It was obvious the boy was crying and the sinister grins on the student's faces told you they had been tormenting him.

"Malleus-"

You didn't even have to finish your sentence before the Dragon acted on your behalf. Clearly the offending students were caught off guard by the sudden and harsh winds that threw them to the ground. They almost seemed ready to fight before they realized it was a less than pleased Malleus Draconia staring them down, the group scattering from the location to try and avoid the wrath of the strongest student among them. It didn't take much for you to memorize their faces, knowing you were due a conversation with Riddle and figuring you could mention their poor behavior to the temperamental Unicorn.

Once the offending students cleared out, you could see the boy better as he cowered among the tree roots. He was wearing a bright yellow shirt that had a few rips and tears in it. His hair was a red to gold gradient that highlighted and complimented his golden ears, tail, and back legs. The young boy was crying and trying to push himself further back into the roots even as Malleus approached, hissing warily at the Dragon and letting out pitiful mewls. He looked like a brighter and happier version of Leona.

"Here, let me try."

The mewling was hurting your heart more than you realized it would as you passed a somewhat displeased Grim to Silver. Malleus didn't allow you to dismount on your own from the Cervitaur's back- your leg was still injured- and instead chose to lift you up with his tail, setting you in the grass in front of the roots the child hid among. Where you wished you could have approached the clearly frightened child on your own, you weren't going to bemoan the fact now.

"It's okay," you began in a soothing tone, your voice taking on a much softer pitch, "they're gone now."

"They- They're gonna come- come back!"

"No, they won't. I can promise you that."

"Stay away!"

You frowned slightly at how clearly afraid the cub was and you shuffled closer, trying to not stress the cub further. He had several scrapes on his soft skin and you couldn't help but feel pity for the clearly frightened child. Honestly, you had half a mind to go straight to Riddle after this and inform the Unicorn of the poor behavior shown by his dormmates. First, you had to make sure the cub was alright.

"Let's try this again, my name is (Y/n) (L/n), what is yours?"

"Ch-Cheka. My name- my name is Cheka."

"Okay, Cheka, where are you supposed to be right now?"

"Unca- Unca said I was- was 'posed to- to stay in the Greenhouse. But it- it's boring there! I just wanted to play..."

"Oh, you poor thing. I'm going to guess those students said they would play with you, but their games weren't very fun, right?"

"They weren't fun at- at all! They kicked and chased me, an-and they yelled at me-!"

The cub cut off with a loud sob and covered his face, crying his little heart out as he curled in on himself. You saw your chance to reach out and grab the cub as he cried, taking it slowly so he could pull away if he wanted to. He didn't fight as you lifted him into your lap, instead he curled against your figure and sobbed into your warm body, seeking comfort and affection after his frightening experience.

"I'm so sorry they did that to you. That isn't fair to do to anyone, especially someone so young."

"They- they hit me, an-and they said I was stupid-! And- and- and then they chased me-!"

You just held the cub and let him cry it out, rubbing his back to soothe him. He seemed like he was around five years old, maybe younger, and he clearly didn't expect anyone to be so cruel to him. Honestly, the more the cub sobbed, the angeier you became at those who dare to hurt him so gleefully. He was just a child, what kind of monsters were they to get off on hurting this poor little cub? Kids could be annoying, sure, but that wasn't an excuse to hurt and terrify them.

"Okay. It's okay now. I won't let them hurt you again, okay?"

"Okay..."

You swayed slightly to try and soothe the cub further, his heartwrenching sobs slowly dying down to sniffles as he cuddled against you. Once the cub has mostly calmed down, he seemed drowsy and low energy. It took a lot of effort to cry so much especially after being so scared.

"Cheka, Honey, where are your parents?"

"Unca is in the greenhouse... I don't know where Dada is... He said I had to stay with Unca, but..."

"Okay. Do you want to go see if we can find Unca or Dada first?"

"I want my Dada..!"

"Alright, let's find Dada. You can stay with us until we find him. We'll make sure those mean students don't bother you again."

"Okay..."

Malleus used his tail once more to lift you and Cheka up, back onto the back of the Cervitaur. Neither he nor Silver seemed put off by the extra weight of the cub. The only one who seemed angry was- surprisingly- Grim.

The little Hellcat's ears were flat on his head and his three pronged tail was lashing in frustration.

"That's my Hooman..."

As he growled, you frowned at the small Hellcat, but you figured he would be less than pleased with the situation. Cats from your world were territorial, especially the males, and now Grim had to compete with Cheka for your affections. He was clearly angry that he was relegated to Silver's arms and not yours as he glared jealously at the younger cub.

"Grim," you started with a gentle but warning tone to the Hellcat, "calm down. Cheka isn't a threat to you."

"Yes, he is. You are my Hooman and that means I should be the one you hold, not that- that cub!"

"Grim, just because we are helping Cheka out doesn't mean you're not my boy anymore. I'm your Hooman, and you're my Grimmy. Okay?"

He was still frowning, but his tail had stopped lashing as he slowly nodded. It was clear he wasn't happy with the situation but he wasn't going to be mean to Cheka either. Now, all you had to do was find Cheka's Dad- who was more than likely a Nemean Lion, judging from Cheka- somewhere on campus.

"Tsuno, is it okay if we pause the Gargoyle excursion for now? I think getting this little one somewhere safe should take priority."

"... The Gargoyles will still be here another day."

"Thank you, Tsuno. You're a good guy."

Malleus seemed to get a somewhat darker tint to his pallid cheeks, his tail curling and waving with your light praise. Cheka finally pulled away from your warm hug, looking around now at the several monster men that stood around the two of you and even at Silver, who you both were riding. His eyes seemed to train on Malleus before returning to you and he almost looked confused, glancing back and forth for a moment.

"Aunta, what are you? You smell like," he paused to sniff at your arms and shoulder, "like a weird Lizard, but you don't look like a Lizard..?"

"Because I'm Human, Cheka."

"Hooman?"

"Close enough."

"Wait, so you're who Dada is here to meet? He said Unca was talking about a Hooman that stays at the school, and that he had to go to a meeting with the Hooman. Mama told Dada to take me along too, and Dada told Unca to watch me while he went to the meeting thingy."

"Okay, so your Dada is one of the representatives. Got it. I'm guessing you're from Sunset Savana?"

"Yeah! That's Dada's Kingdom and it will be my Kingdom some day too!"

"Gotcha. Well, I know where your Dada will be come lunch time, can you wait to see him until then, or do you want to go see him right now?"

"... Well, those meanies aren't here anymore... And you're really nice to me, Aunta, so I can wait to see Dada. Just don't leave me alone again, okay?"

"Okay, I'll stay by your side until we get you back to your Dada."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

~•§•~

Leona slowly woke from a surprisingly peaceful slumber, humming as he came back to consciousness. It was nice to not be woken up for the hundredth time by his nephew. While he slowly woke a question soon floated up in his sleep hazed mind.

Where was the cub?

Usually Cheka's energy was boundless and insatiable in his desire to play, so he should have technically been the one to wake Leona. The fact alone that he wasn't in Leona's immediate line of sight put the Nemean Lion on edge. He didn't fear what his older brother Falena would do to him for losing the cub, he feared what Falena's wife would do.

That fear and concern was what pulled the Lion to his feet and began his increasingly worried search of the greenhouse. There was no trace of the cub.

"Damn that brat! He couldn't just stay in one place for only a few hours?"

Leona snarled as he began the long and arduous task of tracking the cub, following one of countless scent trails in the hopes he could find the Cub before other students did. Most of those at Night Raven College would have a field-day tormenting such a young cub, and he didn't really want to face the wrath of his brother's wife. As annoying as Cheka was, he also didn't want the cub to get hurt because of his negligence.

One thing was for certain though, he would never agree to watch that nuisance again.

~•§•~

Your rag-tag herd made their way through the mirror and into the Heartslabyul domain, Cheka looking around in awe at the many different rose bushes and the large swooping architecture. Malleus took the lead, followed by Silver, and Ortho brought up the back of the group. You were very thankful Ortho was there as he seemed to befriend the little cub easily and the two were able to talk about everything and anything.

Though you thought the cub was absolutely precious- and a certain part of your brain wanted to adopt and keep the cub- you knew he would have to go home eventually. That didn't mean you were going to let the cruelty others showed to him go unanswered, however. Trey and Riddle were both supposed to be at their dorms today, or so Ace told you, so you figured you could visit as promised and tell Riddle about those students.

It didn't take long for you to locate the Unicorn and Kelpie, both were at the Heartslabyul lake. Riddle was laying on the grass on the bank of the Lake and Trey seemed to be swimming in the water. When your group approached, you could have sworn you saw Cater laying across the Kelpie's back. The moment you called out to them there was a loud splash, and you didn't see the Water Nymph anymore.

Part of you wondered if Cater was avoiding you due to what happened with the Wolves, but you weren't going to push to befriend the Nymph either. There were still things left unspoken between the two of you. You were still injured, so he couldn't possibly face you after what he did.

"Hey, Riddle, Trey!"

You waved as your group approached the equine students who both looked surprised at your presence in Heartslabuyl.

Riddle was first to stand to greet you, but it was Trey that caught your attention. Slowly pulling himself out of the water, you saw that his typically white coat was a deep lake-green. Fins protruded from the backs of his front legs and it was clear his back legs were one large fin, reminding you of a Hippocampus from Greek mythology. His tail- which was usually a fine strands of green like his usual hair- was now stringy kelp looking fins that flicked off water.

He seemed to struggle for a moment as he pulled himself onto the bank, but the large tail-fin split back into two legs rather quickly, allowing the Kelpie to stand. Apaprently Trey wasn't just a white horse afterall and seemed to actually be a Kelpie as you knew them. It made you vaguely wonder why Kelpies weren't considered dangerous to you, as your home legends of Kelpies usually depicted them eating Humans.

"(Y/n), it's such a relief to see you," Riddle started, drawing your attention back to him, "when we heard you were injured, I feared the worst."

"So I've heard. Don't relax too soon, there are representatives I have to meet today, and apparently they will be deciding if I get to stay here or not..."

"What? Where will you go if they decide you can't stay?"

"I don't know. All I know if I have to meet with them around lunchtime. Trey, thank you again for the pastries, we thought they were delicious. Papa Hades says 'thank you' as well."

This seemed to make the two startle somewhat as clear shock was on both their faces.

"Wait- Hades? As in, one of the Seven Hades?"

"Yup. He's staying at Ramschackle for a bit."

"I mean, I expected the patron protector of Humans to take an interest in you, but I didn't think the rumors of him being on campus were true."

"Yeah. He's actually really nice. He said Trey's pastries were some of the best he's ever had."

Trey smiled at this, looking somewhat wistful as he glanced away. Honestly, he hadn't expected anyone other than you and Grim to eat the pastries, but it made him happy to know one of the Seven liked his family recipie. Maybe it would be a good thing if the Shinigami decided he wanted more pastries from the family of Kelpies. It could certainly help their profit margins.

"Glad to hear he liked them. Also good to see you, you seem to be in high spirits despite everything-"

Trey cut himself off as he realized you were cuddling what looked like a small Nemean Lion cub, his eyes wide in shock.

"Is that-?"

"This is Cheka, he's a Nemean Lion cub. He came here with his father, but his uncle- who I assume is Leona- was supposed to be watching him. We found him being bullied by a bunch of Heartslabyul students."

This made a certain dark look of anger take over Trey's features and you vaguely recalled Ace telling you about Trey's many younger siblings. No doubt the Kelpie was furious students from his dorm were so keen to bully a literal lost child.

"Point out these rule-breakers and it will be off with their heads!"

~•§•~

Leona was more than a little stressed as he continued to search, finding what seemed to be the remnants of a scuffle outside of the Greenhouse. Several scents he didn't really recognize mixed with Cheka's scent and led to a large gnarled tree. Obviously some students decided to use little Cheka as sport and this genuinely made Leona start to worry.

At first, he was irritated that the cub had not heeded his warning to stay in the Greenhouse, but if others got a hold of him it was possible Cheka was hurt. Leona didn't like Cheka one bit and hated looking after the nuisance of a cub, but he didn't want the little idiot hurt by any means. It would not only make him feel awful, but it meant the women of his house would turn on him for letting the cub wander off.

He tried to take in as much information as he could despite the many different scents present among the tree. There didn't seem to be the smell or presence of blood, so Cheka was not gravely injured before he left the tree. The only conclusive scent he could distinguish among the many was the scent of the his precious little Mousey.

There were worse people who could have found the cub and Leona hoped his Mousey hadn't gone far with Cheka. Of course, that probably meant the overgrown Lizard was with her, one of his scales being enough proof of his presence among the many. Even if his Mousey was a safe bet to leave Cheka with, he still didn't want to get chewed out by his family for not searching for the cub.

Falena wouldn't let him hear the end of it and neither would Falena's wife. There was also the possibility that Cheka could befriend the little Human and put in a good word for Leona. If the Human liked the cub, he could use the boy to get closer to his Mousey in the future. Turns out Cheka may not be so useless after all.

[josephquinnswhore]

devils antics - joel miller x female reader

Summary: joel explores unspoken territory.

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warnings: established relationship, age gap, daddy kink, use of pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, honey), (reader mid 20’s Joel is in his 50’s.) somnophilia, dubcon, p in v, creampie, thigh riding, reader is asleep for most of it. Joel Miller wearing reading glasses 🥵

Note: game/og Joel is the love of my life if you don’t like him, go kick rocks.

It had been a day, Joel could concede the fact as soon as you had walked in the door. Usual infectious smile was nowhere to be seen, he felt unnerved by the way your lips were pulled into a tight line, noting how your bottom lip twitched in its struggle not to slip into a pout.

You were trying to stay strong, level-headed. Joel knew you were tough, you could handle things well, and when you couldn’t you’d always communicate the problem and together; create a solution to free you of your metaphorical chain and shackle.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Is what he’d gotten from you, avoidant eyes and a wave of your hand, monotonous voice set him on edge. The stress radiated from your body like heat waves.

His hand slipped onto your shoulders, only adding to the extra pressure that they struggled underneath. “Let me at least run you a bath sweetheart, it’ll help you relax.”

Another disinterested reply, a shortened mumble of, “I’m fine. Just want to sleep it off.”

He felt stumped; you could be so stubborn. He was here offering solutions, ways in which he knew he could help and be of use and you outright refused. There was no negotiation, straight dismissal. He found it hard to admit that it hurt, god it hurt him. He felt rejected.

A voice of reason in his mind, told himself that he’d never seen her like this, that something so profoundly stressful must have happened for her to be like this.

As you’d said to him, once tomorrow would come and you were rested, they’d talk.

He spends a while in the living room; reading a few chapters of his book before he marks the page by folding the top corner over. A ghost of a smile grew on his lips as he heard your scornful voice in his head.

“You’re going to ruin the books Joel, use a bookmark for goodness sake!” He folded the paper anyway, maybe if you’d noticed it would give you another reason to talk to him.

His pointer and thumb reach up to take his glasses off, pinching them in the worn spot where the temple of his glasses meets the small silver hinge. He sets the book down, then places the glasses on top of them, he’s careful to make sure they’re leaning on the temples, not the lenses.

He feels a heavy feeling forming in his chest, like he’s worried you won’t want him there. Would you; want him there? The thought makes his hand hover above the door handle before he turns it, cursing the sound of the squeaky door hinges that could use some lubricating.

He was sure Tommy mentioned finding an old can of WD-40 on his last patrol.

You’re fast asleep, miraculously through the squeaky door and Joel’s heavy footsteps on the wooden floor throughout the house.

His heart swells when he looks at you; your lips are parted and there’s a frown strewn on your face, skin wrinkling around your eyes. God, you’d probably have crows feet before you turn 30.

“Oh baby, look at you.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head. You went to bed wearing one of his shirts and no pants.

He doesn’t bother to undress, not thinking he’ll get much sleep anyway. He lies there, turning his head to the right so he can watch you sleep, it disturbs him; how even in sleep whatever has you worried plagues you in your sleep.

Watching your chest rise and fall, his own breathing becomes synchronised with your own, heart beating at the same pace as he starts to grumble, his tired eyed begging to be closed for some rest. It takes mere minutes before he finds himself unable to keep his eyelids open.

He stirs, hearing soft whimpers coming from your lips, when he opens his eyes he sees that your lips are still parted, a small puddle of drool has accumulated on your yellow pillowcase.

He can’t help but chuckle at the sight. Until you whimper again, and he takes you in, he realises he’s in a predicament.

Your two thighs are wrapped around his own, locking him in place as your hips rut against his leg, the cause of those sweet sounds coming from your lips. He freezes for a moment; wondering what he should do.

He considers waking you up, shoving you off or even trying to pull his leg away to free himself of your devious grip on him. But he doesn’t. He feels a wave of sympathy.

Here was his poor baby, face strewn in a stressed-out frown and out of desperation, rutting and grinding her panty clothed cunt onto his rough, jean-clad thighs, like her life depended on it.

How could he deny you? He couldn’t.

He felt a tingle shoot down his spine, his cock hardened, stiff and uncomfortable in his jeans, as he watched you using his body in your sleep to get yourself off.

His poor angel is reduced to this, so stressed and exhausted from whatever you’re juggling has you so needy, so desperate and too anxious to ask him to actually fuck you to feel that release.

It was a no brainer to him-to help you. You were his angel, his baby. He wouldn’t let you suffer, you were too restless and you deserved to sleep without interruption. The peace of sleeping without stress on the back burner of your subconscious.

Desire washes over him, his large hands grip your hips, guiding you slowly to grind into his large thigh, still facing each other. His eyes flicker over your body, realising already, how you look less pent up than earlier. Calloused fingertips are soft on your skin as he grips your torso softly, pulling you closer into his chest.

His lips start kissing your neck, softly and gently, careful not to wake you. Small groans get stuck in the back of his throat as you continue to whine desperately for more friction.

He closes his eyes, voice husky with desire as he speaks. “It’ll be okay now honey, I’ll give you everything you need.”

Arousal fuels his actions, lips attacking your soft neck down to your collarbone, his hand sneaks under the material of his shirt on your delicate skin. He groans as he feels your nipples are hard against his thick fingers.

Your hips against Joel’s had slowed down, the rhythm becoming less synced, more sloppy, his heart pounded as he realised how close you were.

“You’re almost there princess, just let daddy take care of you. You know he looks after you.” He wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore, hell if he woke you up, he wouldn’t mind at all.

Moments later a string of quiet and frantic whines left your lips, body slumped and stilled as you cum from riding his thigh. The wet spot on his jeans is what drives him wild, a primal growl leaves his lips, and he can’t control the desire he has to take you here, as you slept.

“You wouldn’t mind”, he reasoned aloud. “You’d wanna help your daddy wouldn’t you angel?” He muttered as he pulled his jeans down to his knees, pulling his aching cock out of it’s containment.

His fingers peel your soaked panties to the side, cursing when he feels with his fingers that your cunt is dripping with slick. He couldn’t fight the devil’s temptation, the sin of lust had already possessed him and your sweet, sweet juices coated his fingertips.

He dragged his sticky fingers down his cock, pumping it a few times before lining himself up to your hole. He exhaled a few times as he pushes himself in, animalistic grunts leaving his lips at the feeling.

You stir for a moment, Joel stills and makes sure you’re asleep before he continues. He pumps himself into you, hips meeting yours in a slow motion, teasing himself, watching you be so vulnerable under him sent an arousal though his entire body.

He felt his orgasm coming on fast than it had ever before.

“That’s it angel..” He grunts, unable to stop the words from slipping past his lips. “I’m almost done princess, just let daddy use you.”

His body shakes heavily as he ruts into you, going deeper. His arms have moved so they’re now wrapped around you, and his voice is a little breathless and even more husky as he lets out small groans and moans.

But he's still holding himself together fairly well considering how close he is to falling apart. His body still tenses up, though, as he continues to fuck her while she sleeps.

Joel doesn’t feel bad, like he can’t comprehend why this would be such a terrible thing if you did wake up—he’s past the point of feeling guilty, he knows you’d want to be his good girl and help him finish.

“You're such a good girl.” He murmurs softly, his voice is slightly breathless and husky as he stares at her and kisses her softly on the lips.

He grunts softly and shifts his body even closer to her, so he’s flush against your chest. His legs are still shaking a little, and he feels a rush as he gets close to cumming and almost reaches it.

“Almost…” He trails off, his voice a mere whisper.

“Just... give me a minute... and I'm all done…” He adds softly, his voice cracking as he starts to come undone.

His grip on your hips tighten, cock now slamming into your hole harshly, crushing your body under his as he rams into you, Joel’s starting to lose his composure, not worried about waking you anymore.

He lets out an animalistic growl as he cums, long ropes of cum filling your spend cunt, trickling down your thighs and onto the bedsheets as his cock continues to pulsate into you.

“Fucking—Jesus baby you’re squeezing me.” He growls, feeling your cunt squeeze around him, you moan loudly and he realises that you’ve just had an orgasm.

Your eyes shoot open and it doesn’t take long to put the pieces together. Reality hits him as he realises what he’s done. Joel’s face suddenly turns to one of guilt, panic. He pulls out of you and starts breathing heavily.

“Baby—I can.. I’m sorry I wasn’t—I didn’t think.. I don’t know what came over me.” He stuttered, voice thick with emotion, his hazel eyes were soft and it was clear as day he couldn’t resist it.

You feel your face and neck warm as you take his hand in your own. “It’s okay, I like it—seriously. It’s sexy, the idea of you taking what you need and looking after me is perfectly okay with me baby.”

He starts to calm down, long arms extending to pull your body into his own, you’re both sweating and covered in cum.

“You’re so good to me angel. I dunno what I’d do without you.” He mutters tiredly, nuzzling his crooked nose into her hair.

This would need to be an in depth discussion. That could be done in the morning; for now, you were happy, Joel was happy. That’s means enough to fall asleep in each other's arms happily for a few hours.

[system-to-the-madness]

Bet ya - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Pairing: (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 2 311 Warnings: alcohol, Reader kisses Wylan (oops, but no cheating), OCC Kaz, betting (not on money) Summary: Kaz makes a bet with you and doesn’t like the way it turns out for him Prompts: bet, game, constest

“You’d never win a bet against me.”

“Is that a bet?”

Kaz rolled his eyes at you, adjusting in the seat at the bar of the Crow Club. “Why are you so desperate to lose to me.”

“We don’t know if I’d lose,” you reminded him, tilting your head at him playfully.

“Why do I even bother,” he murmured, more to himself than you, but you still heard him over the noise of the guests, the music and the clinking of glasses and coins.

“Come on, Kaz,” you encouraged him, nudging the leg of his chair with your foot, knowing better than to touch him. “It’s a game!”

“A stupid game, and that’s Jesper’s specialty, not mine.”

“Indulge me, just this once. All the others played too!”

“What’s your current score, then?” Kaz wasn’t looking at you as he waved to the bartender for another glass of whiskey.

“Sooo… I won against Matthias,” you start counting, “lost to Nina and Inej, won against Wylan and the bet with Jesper is still ongoing. Currently it does look like he’s going to lose, though.”

With a sigh Kaz turned back to you, taking in your appearance. His blue eyes were cold as always, but you had learnt better than to be intimidated by them. Sure, he was a dangerous man, but in a relaxed situation like right now, considering how close you were, there was nothing you had to fear from him. For the time being.

“Fine,” he agreed eventually, rolling his eyes again as an excited grin spread over your face. “But first: who would you rather kiss, Wylan or Jesper?”

You, you wanted to say, but you were no idiot and certainly not drunk enough to answer that. Even if he wouldn’t mind you basically confessing your annoying little crush on him, even if he would want to kiss you too, he couldn’t. Not with the way he flinched at any form of physical contact or even the mental image of standing too close to someone.

Quickly you tore your thoughts back to his question. Really, you had no desire to kiss either of the young men, even more so because you knew they were going out. But you had the distinct feeling one of their names would annoy him more to hear than the other.

“I don’t want to kiss either of them,” you told him honestly.

“Assume you are being forced. Who would you choose?”

Worrying your lips between your teeth, you glanced over at the table in the corner, where the rest of the crows were laughing together. Matthias sat in the very back, Nina cuddled into his side, Inej in safe distance at his other side with Wylan and Jesper on the bench opposite them.

“Do I have to choose?”

“Yes,” Kaz’s answer came cooly and not without a hint of pleasure at your discomfort.

“Jesper,” you eventually decided, just in time looking back at Kaz to see his face fall. Jackpot.

“And who of the two are you more scared of?”

“Scared of?” You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped over your lips. “Why would I be scared of either of them?”

“Maybe you upset them? Broke Wylan’s favourite flute, or Jesper’s gun…”

The way Kaz was looking at you now reminded you of why people were so scared of him. There was something truly… demonic- in the way he was watching you now. You were his mark and his whole focus was on trying to find a way to bring you down. You just wished his whole focus would be on you even without trying to drive you into ruin.

“I mean, Jesper has his guns, but Wylan has his explosives,” you thought out loud. “So, I’m gonna go with Wylan on this.”

“Hm, not ideal,” Kaz told you, his eyes flickering from you over to the table with his friends. You had about an idea what he was going to bet you on, you just didn’t know who he would choose, Jesper or Wylan.

“Don’t stress yourself out,” you joked, trying to overplay your sudden nervousness. “You don’t have to come up with a masterplan for a simple game of betting.”

“Who would I be if I didn’t,” Kaz asked, turning back to you with a devilish grin that made a shiver run down your spine. Jup, Matthias’ nickname for Kaz was accurate indeed.

“Fine, hit me with all you’ve got,” you sighed, leaning a little closer than before as if conspiring with him. Instead of leaning away, as you had expected him to do, he leant closer, close enough for you to smell the whiskey on his breath.

“I bet you wouldn’t go over to Wylan and kiss him. On the mouth,” Kaz grinned diabolically.

Yeah, you had known he’d go for this as soon as he had asked the first question.

“That’s not a bet, that’s a dare,” you educated him, but got up from your chair anyway, Kaz’s eyes widening slightly. “What do I get if I win?”

“You won’t,” Kaz told you, his confident smile seeming frozen on his lips.

“Well, then what do you get if you win,” you asked, adjusting your shirt, turning to him expectedly.

“The pride of knowing you ruined your own bet,” Kaz decided.

“How chivalrous of you. I’ll take a coffee with winter spices from the café down the street as my prize, but the coffee with cream, the good one,” you told him, before turning away and walking over to the corner, where your friends were seated. All the way over you felt Kaz’s eyes on your back.

“Hey! Did you finally leave the resident rain cloud and decided to join the fun,” Jesper laughed as he spotted you approaching.

“Not quite. Hey Jes, remember our bet from before?”

Jesper nodded, his grin growing broader. “Am I winning?��

“You just might,” you told him. “But I’d have to kiss your boyfriend for that.”

Jesper stopped for a moment, as if he was thinking, then he looked up at where you were standing behind him, over to Kaz, to Wylan and back to Kaz.

“Oh, if it’s just for the bet, you’d have to ask Wylan, not me.” The grin was returning to Jesper’s face, and you had the sudden thought that he actually might be into you kissing Wylan. Oh saints, that man.

“I would ask him either way, you genius,” you sighed, “I just don’t want to get shot by you over a bet.”

“Fair enough,” Jesper agreed.

“So, Wylan, would you mind if I kissed you? No tongue or anything. It would help me win a bet against Kaz and possibly help Jesper win a bet against me.”

Wylan blinked for a few seconds, trying to process what you were asking, then his eyes skipped over to Jesper, who you saw nodding encouragingly from the corner of your eyes.

“I guess, it’s okay,” he nodded, making you smile.

“This shouldn’t be as hot as it is,” Jesper mumbled behind you.

“I’ll keep it short, I promise,” you told him, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to come to level with him. His dark eyes flickered over your face and from this close up you could almost count the freckles that were sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. He definitely was cute. Not your type, but cute. You could understand why Jesper was so in love with him.

You closed your eyes, and leant forward, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. But your lips had barely touched against Wylan’s, hadn’t even yet registered his warmth, when suddenly the others on the table gasped. It wasn’t the kind of ‘oh, they’re actually kissing!’-gasp, it was more of a shocked, if not even scared gasp. Before you could even try to make sense of it, something hard and pointy landed on your shoulder and you got yanked backwards.

“That’s enough,” Kaz’s icy voice cut like a blade through the noise of the Crow Club.

And without giving you the chance to properly stand up or let you look at him, he used the crow beak of his cane to drag you backwards. Instead of trying to figure out the various levels of amusement and terror on your friends’ faces, you twisted, trying to turn around to Kaz, who marched straight out of the Crow Club. In the dark, cold street outside, he walked a few more meters before he came to a halt and unhooked the cane from your shoulder.

“What was that about,” he almost shouted, his frame seeming taller and more dangerous than usually. Finding yourself on the bad side of Dirtyhands was not very pleasant, you realized, but also you didn’t understand what his problem was.

“What do you mean,” you asked, “you bet I wouldn’t do it, and I did. You lost, so what?”

“You kissed him!”

“Hardly! You stopped me before it was even a proper kiss. With that crow cane of yours.” Annoyed you rubbed the aching part of your shoulder, where the tip of the beak had bored into your muscle.

“You weren’t supposed to kiss him,” Kaz argued.

“You bet I wouldn’t. You have to expect people to win a bet by doing the opposite of what you want them to do. That’s how bets work!”

“I didn’t think you’d really do it! I thought you’d- or- I don’t know! I didn’t think you’d go through with it!”

“Why not? I told you, it’s a game. What’s so bad about wanting to win it?”

“I thought- I thought you wouldn’t kiss him, because you liked m-” Kaz stopped himself before the last word fully slipped over his lips, and turned away, exasperated. Running a shaking hand through his hair, he sighed. “You weren’t supposed to kiss him.”

“Kaz,” carefully you stepped closer behind him. His breath was irregular, and he was clearly upset and emotional. Under normal circumstances you would have placed your hand on his back, but knowing Kaz, you refrained. “Kaz, you do know it was a game, right? It didn’t mean anything. And- I only kissed Wylan because I though you wouldn’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t mind?” Kaz turned back around to you. “Of course I mind! Do you think I don’t wish I could be the one who-”

“Quick question!” Without warning the window beside Kaz and you got thrown open and Jesper poked his head outside. “Kaz are you jealous? And does that mean I won our bet?” The second part was directed at you.

“Not now, Jes,” you told the Zemini man and slammed the window shut again.

“Listen Kaz,” you took a step closer to Kaz, still leaving a safe distance between him and you to not upset him further. “If I had known it would upset you this much, I would have rejected the bet. I really was convinced you didn’t care about if or who I kissed. But now I know better, and it won’t happen again. And for the record. When you asked, who I wanted to kiss between Jesper and Wylan, my initial response would have been someone else entirely.”

You exchanged a long look with Kaz, one that left no doubt that you had meant him, even if you lacked the courage to put it into words.

After a few moments, Kaz bowed his head slightly.

“Sorry for lashing out,” he mumbled.

“Since when does Dirtyhands do apologies,” you teased, making Kaz groan.

“Don’t ruin it,” he threatened, making you laugh.

“Alright, alright. But now that we have that settled, does this mean I won a bet against you?”

“One,” Kaz emphasized. “I won’t make it so easy next time.”

“Why, what’s the next bet? Kissing Nina?”

“You won’t be kissing anyone,” Kaz grumbled, a blush beginning to rise into his cheeks.

“Not anyone? Not even the great Kaz Brekker?” It was bold, that was for certain, but you had hit bullseyes it seemed, as Kaz fought back the red on his cheeks and instead turned to you with an expression that probably was his attempt to threaten you. The thing with Kaz Brekker was that he was incapable of believably threatening the people he cared about.

“I might make an exception for him,” he mumbled, before turning to the door. “Let’s go back inside; it’s cold.”

Trying not to let your giddy excitement show, you followed Kaz back into the bar, but before he entered the main room, he stopped and turned to you.

“What was that bet you had going on with Jesper,” he asked with furrowed brows. You couldn’t help but notice that his body language had changed. Where before he always stood straight and with a certain distance to every person he encountered, he now seemed to be leaning more towards you as if trying to close a distance you knew he couldn’t. Not yet anyway.

“He bet, you would get jealous over me before the end of the month,” you admitted, watching Kaz tilt his head. “I was convinced it was impossible.”

Kaz’s jaw tensed, and his eyes met yours with an unspoken confession, but the moment was interrupted by a drunk guy stumbling through the door, bumping into you and apologizing terribly.

Kaz and you exchanged glances, your more amused than his annoyed one, before you walked back inside, getting hit by a wall of noise and the smell of alcohol. The others waved you over cheerfully, and when Kaz and you pulled your own chairs over to join them at their table, nobody mentioned the way Kaz rested his arm on the backrest of your chair or how he leant over to whisper in your ear that he hadn’t forgotten about the prize for you winning the bet but only under the condition that he got to accompany you to the café.

[angelnoe9]

Love beyond Deepspace

Chapter 4: A Dance in the Dark

Summary of the chapter:

Taking a familiar shortcut, you turn a corner��only to face a dead end. The alley feels different, the walls taller, the path distorted.

Then, a rustling in the shadows. Something is watching.

𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑

The soft morning light filters through your curtains, casting gentle shadows across your room. Your eyes remain closed as you stir, your mind still wrapped in the remnants of sleep. Instinctively, you reach out, searching for the warmth beside you—

But there’s nothing.

Your fingers graze only the empty sheets of your own bed.

A hollow feeling settles in your chest as you open your eyes, confirming what you already suspected. You’re back in your world. The ceiling above you is familiar, your nightstand is the same, and your phone rests beside you, waiting for your attention. But something feels... off.

You lift your hand, absently pressing your fingertips to your wrist—the same place where Rafayel had grasped it last night. A lingering warmth pulses faintly under your skin, almost like an echo of his touch. You shake your head. It must be your imagination.

Riiing!

Your phone alarm jolts you from your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. Work. You have to get ready.

You sigh and sit up, rubbing your temples before pushing yourself out of bed. The morning routine flows like muscle memory—shower, makeup, coffee, breakfast. Yet, as you stand by the kitchen counter sipping your coffee, another strange sensation tugs at the edges of your awareness.

The faint scent of saltwater.

Your brows furrow. You aren’t anywhere near the ocean. And yet, for a fleeting moment, you swear you can hear the distant rush of waves.

It fades as quickly as it came, leaving you wondering if your mind is just playing tricks on you.

At work, you settle into your daily tasks, letting the rhythm of routine ground you. The occasional email, the steady typing of your keyboard, the hum of quiet office chatter—it’s all normal.

A little before lunch, with some time to spare, you pull out your phone and tap open Love and Deepspace. The familiar loading screen flashes before Rafayel’s face appears on the home screen. His eyes seem to meet yours directly.

A soft, unbidden smile tugs at your lips.

I hope I can see him again.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, Rafayel’s expression seems to shift ever so slightly. His lips curl into the faintest of smiles, almost as if he’s responding to your gaze.

Your breath catches.

For a moment, it feels like he is looking at you.

Your heart skips a beat, but you shake it off with a quiet laugh. I must be overthinking.

The day passes in a blur. Unfortunately, work drags on longer than expected, and overtime keeps you at your desk past your usual clock-out time. By the time you leave the office, exhaustion clings to your bones.

You just want to go home.

Taking the usual route will take longer, so you decide on a shortcut—a quieter path through an alley that shaves a good ten minutes off your commute. You’ve taken it before. It’s safe enough.

But tonight, the alley feels different.

The city lights flickered in the distance as you hurried down the alleyway, your breath escaping in small puffs in the cool night air. It was late—too late. Normally, this shortcut would have you home in no time, a path you’d taken countless times. But tonight… something was different. The alley felt strange, as if the walls had stretched higher, the paths twisted unnaturally. Your footsteps echoed as you turned a corner, only to find yourself at a dead end.

A rustling noise broke the silence, making you freeze.

Your eyes scanned the shadows. Then, from above, a figure swooped down—its wings slicing through the air. You gasped, stumbling back as a mechanical crow landed before you. Its sleek, dark form glowed with red eyes.

You knew this crow.

“Mephisto?” you whispered, disbelief thick in your voice.

No way. It couldn’t be. But as you stared at the crow, the sinking feeling in your stomach confirmed what your mind was refusing to accept.

Before you could fully process it, a presence emerged from the neon-lit haze at the end of the alley. A tall figure moved with fluid grace, stepping into the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. When his crimson gaze locked onto yours, a slow, knowing smirk curled on his lips.

“Finally, we meet, Kitten.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Sylus

He stood exactly as he did in the game, but somehow… even more imposing. His white hair caught the neon light, tousled but effortlessly framing his sharp features. The black blazer over his shoulders shifted as he moved, and the red streaks on his shirt resembled feathers, almost raptor-like in their precision.

Except now, he wasn’t just a character. He was real.

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

Sylus tilted his head, amusement glimmering in his red eyes as he observed your stunned silence. “Speechless already? And here I thought you'd at least say my name.”

His voice was deep, rich, and unmistakably real. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you tried to muster a response, but before you could, Sylus closed the distance between you in one swift motion, his arms sweeping under your legs and back.

“W-Wait—!”

Your protest was cut off as he effortlessly lifted you into a bridal carry, like you weighed nothing at all. Your heart raced in your chest, and instinctively, you grabbed onto his shirt for balance. The warmth of his body was undeniable, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Much better.” His smirk deepened, and the teasing glint in his eyes made it clear he was enjoying this far too much. “Can’t have you wandering around lost now, can we?”

You stared up at him, still processing the absurdity of it all. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with something distinctly Sylus—dangerous, intoxicating. Your brain struggled to catch up with reality, but you were no stranger to this world anymore.

Were you really surprised at this point?

As if reading your thoughts, Sylus chuckled softly. “You’re handling this surprisingly well.” His eyes gleamed with an unreadable glint. “Not even a scream? No demands for answers?”

You exhaled sharply, finally finding your voice. “Honestly… I don’t even know if I should be surprised anymore.”

That earned a low, velvety laugh from him. “Smart girl.”

With Mephisto soaring ahead, Sylus carried you effortlessly through the maze of alleyways. His strong arm kept you cradled against him, the other hand holding your heels by the strap, as if it were nothing more than a casual afterthought. The weight of your shoes in his hand only added to the surrealness of the situation. His other hand felt steady and secure around your waist, making you feel surprisingly safe despite the chaos of the moment.

Your arms instinctively wound around his neck for support, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt. The proximity was overwhelming, and the warmth of his body made your heart flutter.

The looming silhouette of the Onychinus base soon appeared, its crimson lights reflecting off the sleek metal structures, casting an eerie glow over the area.

As you neared, it hit you—you were truly here. In the world of Love and Deepspace, within the territory of the most dangerous man in N109. And that man, currently holding you like a prized possession, was clearly savoring the moment.

A shiver ran through you—not of fear, but of anticipation.

And from the way Sylus held you, his smirk knowing and sharp, it was clear he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon.

Up close, the base felt even more imposing. Towering walls of reinforced steel stretched high, lined with layers of interlocking plates that gleamed under the red luminescence. It was a fortress—cold, unyielding, and built with a precision that left no room for mistakes. The only entrance visible was a massive steel gate, flanked by automated sentries, their glowing optics tracking everything that moved.

But the moment Sylus approached, the guards and security drones remained motionless. There was no need for passwords or scans—his mere presence was enough to grant him passage.

Inside, the air carried a mechanical hum, a constant undercurrent of power running through the base. The hallways were sleek, lined with hidden panels and silent surveillance. Occasional flickers of red light traced along the walls, pulsing in time with the quiet whir of unseen machinery.

Despite your initial apprehension, you couldn’t help but take in your surroundings. The space felt surreal—like stepping into the heart of a hidden empire, far removed from anything you had known. You could feel the calculated precision of it all, the power that pulsed through these walls, even if you couldn’t quite grasp its true source.

As if sensing your thoughts, Sylus let out a low chuckle. “Taking it all in, Kitten?” His voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

You turned your gaze up to him, noting the sharp glint in his crimson eyes. Even now, he was watching you carefully, studying your reactions like a predator gauging its prey.

“…It’s different from what I expected,” you admitted quietly.

His smirk deepened. “Good.”

As he carried you deeper into Onychinus, passing by corridors that twisted into unknown depths, you noticed how the few people present either avoided looking at him directly or subtly stepped aside. There was no question—this was his domain, and nothing here moved without his approval.

When he finally stepped into a more private hallway, the heavy door before you slid open with a quiet hiss. The space beyond was different.

Eventually, Sylus carried you into his private quarters, a stark contrast to the cold efficiency of the base. His bedroom was grand yet suffocatingly intimate, wrapped in dark hues and warm, flickering light. The four-poster bed stood as the centerpiece, draped in rich, black fabric that absorbed the glow of the fireplace crackling nearby. A deep red, abstract painting hung above the mantel, its bold strokes resembling the remnants of a battlefield, or perhaps something far more personal. The scent of leather and faint embers filled the air, mixing with something distinctly him.

Ornate armchairs flanked the fireplace, their dark upholstery gleaming in the dim light. A round coffee table with a blood-red surface sat near the foot of the bed, accompanied by a smaller side table where a glass of amber liquid rested, undisturbed. Bookshelves lined the walls, their contents illuminated from within—rows of leather-bound volumes, small decorative objects, and a few things that felt too curated, as if meant to hide the real treasures behind them.

Sylus approached the bed, lowering you onto the plush mattress with a deliberate slowness. Yet even as he sat beside you, his grip on your waist remained firm, fingers pressing lightly against your side. A soft thud broke the silence as he casually set your heels down beside the bed, as if only now remembering he had been carrying them all this time. His fingers lingered at your side before he finally leaned back slightly, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“I knew you had been here before,” he murmured, amusement flickering in his crimson gaze. “I saw you through Mephisto the first time you appeared.”

Your breath hitched. He had seen you?

A flicker of unease curled in your stomach. A memory surfaced—fleeting, yet vivid. That night, the first time you found yourself here, you had felt it—a presence lingering in the dark. And then—a gleam of red, watching, unblinking.

At the time, you had brushed it off as a trick of your anxious mind, a stray light in the shadows. But now…

Your fingers curled slightly against the fabric beneath you. “That was you?”

Sylus tilted his head slightly, white hair catching the dim light. “Didn’t expect you to come straight to me, though.”

You swallowed. “I didn’t exactly choose to,” you admitted. “I don’t control when I come here. One moment I’m in my world, and the next, I’m here. Then I get pulled back again.”

Sylus listened carefully, his gaze sharp and calculating as he absorbed every word.

After a moment, he exhaled, leaning back slightly. “The Deepspace Tunnel,” he murmured. “It might be the cause.”

Your brows furrowed. “The tunnel?”

He traced absent patterns against your wrist with his thumb, thoughtful. “It’s an anomaly—barely understood, even by those who claim to control it.” His eyes flickered toward you again. “But don’t overthink it too much.”

“How can I not?” you murmured.

His grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Because I said so.”

There was no arrogance in his voice—just quiet certainty.

And then, his hand moved, fingers threading through your hair in a slow, deliberate motion. His touch was unexpected, a stark contrast to his usual sharp edges.

“I’ll protect you,” he murmured. “No matter what.”

The weight in his words made your breath catch.

Before, he had seemed untouchable—dangerous, commanding. But now, something else had settled in his gaze, something warmer, something that had been waiting.

His fingers brushed along your jaw before withdrawing, but his eyes never left you. “Meeting you in person was worth the wait.”

You looked away, but you could still feel the intensity of his gaze, lingering on you as if he had no intention of looking anywhere else.

Sylus chuckled, voice low and velvety. “Shy now?”

You swallowed, unsure how to answer.

His smirk remained, but there was something unmistakably affectionate beneath it now.

You shifted slightly, hyper-aware of the warmth of his palm still resting on your waist. His touch was firm yet unhurried, fingers splayed just enough to remind you that he wasn’t letting go anytime soon. The weight of his presence beside you was almost suffocating, but not in an unpleasant way—it was something else, something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name.

Sylus tilted his head, crimson eyes scanning your face as if mapping every flicker of hesitation, every unspoken thought. His thumb brushed absently against your side, a slow, deliberate movement that sent an involuntary shiver through you.

“Still not going to look at me?” His voice was teasing, but there was an underlying softness to it now, a quiet pull beneath the usual sharpness of his words.

Your fingers curled slightly against your lap. “You’re staring too much.”

His low chuckle was a vibration against your skin. “Maybe I like the view.”

Heat crept up your neck. You could feel the smirk on his lips without even looking. He wasn’t just teasing now—he was watching, waiting, gauging your reaction like a predator testing the waters before making its next move.

And yet, despite the intensity, there was no rush. No pressure. Just Sylus, his unwavering attention, his steady hold, and the space between you that felt thinner with every breath.

You exhaled slowly, willing your pulse to steady. But with Sylus so close, his touch grounding you yet simultaneously unraveling your composure, it was impossible to ignore the slow, creeping warmth spreading through you.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice a rich hum against your ear. “You might make me think you actually like this.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers flexed slightly against your waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your clothes. It was a casual hold, effortless in its possession, but the unspoken weight behind it sent something electric down your spine.

You finally turned your head, meeting his gaze. His red eyes gleamed, dark and unreadable, but there was something else there, something deeper—something that made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t sure you were ready to acknowledge.

Sylus tilted his head, smirk deepening. “There she is.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came. He was too close. Close enough that you could catch the faintest scent of something subtly sweet—like the lingering trace of expensive liquor on his breath.

And then, as if sensing the turmoil in your silence, Sylus lifted his hand from your waist. But before you could process the loss of warmth, he instead trailed the backs of his fingers lightly down your arm, slow and deliberate.

“You’re trembling,” he noted, amused.

“I’m not,” you lied, though the slight waver in your voice betrayed you.

He chuckled, a knowing sound that sent another rush of heat through you. Then, with the same ease he always carried, he leaned in just enough to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering a fraction longer than necessary.

“Liar,” he murmured.

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers ghosted over your skin, his touch featherlight yet deliberate. The corner of Sylus’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his crimson gaze as he studied your reaction.

"Do you always get this flustered," he mused, voice laced with quiet satisfaction, "or is it just me?"

Your fingers curled against your lap, knuckles brushing against the fabric of his sleeve. You wanted to push him away, to put some distance between you—but at the same time, the heat of his presence was intoxicating, holding you in place like a gravitational pull you couldn't resist.

“I—” You started, only to falter. Because what could you even say? That he was too close? That his touch left an imprint on your skin, even after he pulled away?

Sylus exhaled a soft laugh, low and indulgent. He leaned in again, just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your temple.

"You really don't have to say anything, sweetheart." His voice was velvet, smooth and unhurried. "Your body tells me everything I need to know."

A shiver ran through you, and his smirk widened. He wasn’t letting up. Not yet.

But then, as if deciding to show mercy, Sylus finally leaned back slightly. His fingers, however, remained at your side—no longer holding you in place, but not letting go either.

"Relax," he said, the teasing edge in his voice softening just a little. "I don’t bite… unless you want me to."

Your breath hitched again, and that guy had the audacity to chuckle, clearly reveling in every little reaction he pulled from you.

You shot him a glare, though you weren’t sure how effective it was with the heat still lingering in your cheeks. Sylus, of course, only looked more entertained by your struggle. His fingers flexed slightly against your waist, a silent reminder of just how close he still was.

“I swear, you enjoy this way too much,” you muttered, shifting slightly in place in an attempt to put some distance between you. But the moment you moved, Sylus’s grip tightened—not forcefully, just enough to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“Can you blame me?” His voice was smooth, dripping with amusement. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

You huffed, but your pulse betrayed you, still thrumming a little too fast from his lingering touch.

Sylus studied you for a moment, then—finally—his hand slid away, his warmth fading too quickly. He leaned back slightly, exhaling a quiet chuckle as if indulging in some private amusement.

"Alright, alright," he said, a lazy smirk still playing at his lips. "I'll be good. For now."

You eyed him warily. "That doesn’t sound very reassuring."

Sylus chuckled, tipping his head to the side as his crimson gaze met yours once more.

"Smart girl," he murmured. "You shouldn't trust me so easily."

You couldn’t help but swallow, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You were trying to ignore how his gaze made your pulse quicken, how his proximity made it hard to think straight.

“I never said I trusted you,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. Your heart was still racing from the way he looked at you, as if he could see through all your defenses, even the ones you didn’t know you had.

Sylus’s smirk deepened, his gaze never leaving yours. He leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours, making it impossible to ignore the tension hanging in the air between you.

“You don’t need to,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “But you will. Eventually.”

Before you could respond, there was a sudden shift. The room seemed to fade around you, the edges of the world blurring and distorting in a way you couldn’t comprehend.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, the world snapped back into focus. Sylus was still there, watching you, but his presence felt distant now—like something was pulling him away.

You blinked, confusion flooding your mind. "What—?"

But the words never left your lips.

The room began to fade once more, and this time, you didn’t feel the pull or the shift. You didn’t feel anything at all. The last thing you saw was Sylus’s eyes, locking onto you with an unreadable expression.

And then, everything was gone.

You blinked, a strange emptiness settling in your chest as you found yourself standing in front of your apartment door. The familiar sights of the hallway were sharp in contrast to the surreal feeling still lingering in your mind. Your hand hovered in the air, as if the memory of Sylus’s touch still clung to your skin.

It felt so wrong to be back. The warmth, the intensity of his presence—it was all gone now, replaced by the quiet hum of the real world. You could almost feel the echo of his hand resting on your waist, that subtle heat that had made you forget everything else. Now, standing here, you could only feel the coldness creeping in. The apartment, once familiar, now seemed too quiet, too still.

You wanted to turn back, to feel that closeness again, even if everything about it had been strange and unsettling. The way his gaze had never wavered, how his smirk always carried something deeper… You couldn't deny it now. You missed it. Missed him. Even after everything that happened.

But he was gone. And you were here, in this quiet hallway, with only the faintest memory of his presence.

Back in the room, Sylus sat still, his gaze fixed on the spot where you had been just moments ago.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched, as if waiting for something that wasn’t coming.

Just like that.

The room felt colder without you, the silence more oppressive. He had known it was possible, had anticipated it, but the reality of it still caught him off guard.

He glanced around, half-expecting you to materialize from thin air, to return as suddenly as you’d disappeared. But nothing. Only the emptiness remained.

You were here. And now you’re not.

Sylus exhaled slowly, his hand resting on the bed beside him, fingers gripping the sheets. The absence was heavier than he expected, like something was missing—a presence, a warmth he couldn’t ignore.

He didn’t know when or how you’d come back. The randomness of it all made it impossible to predict. But one thing was clear: he would wait. He wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t know when it would be, but he’d be here, ready for the moment when you returned.

Until then, he could only wait—and somehow, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you until he saw you again.

𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑𓄿⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°๋࣭ ⭑

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