#now they’ll forever live in my head

[myfairkatiecat]

So uh.... every Olivia Rodrigo song is about kotlc now <3

Yep! Every single one :D you’re welcome

[bunnygirllover45]

— The shape of love. ﹑◌﹒WARNINGS﹕Kidnapping, implied punishment, ugly jealousy, some descriptions of body harm ( just wounds or bruises, and it doesn't get too graphic), lots, and lots of deranged ramblings, it gets very dark at times. This is narrated from the POV of the Yandere, you can read this as a 'letter' of sorts.

♱ ✧ ⤷ Word count: 997 (felt lazy and I didn't reach 1k lmao.)

There you go again, looking at me with the same eyes as always.

I don’t know how many times I’ve repeated moments like this inside my head since the last time. It's been a while since I've been this close to you.

The trembling of your body lets me know that your excitement is as big as mine, is your body perhaps unable to contain all those bubbling feelings?

I grab your legs, my hands softly pressing against the flesh, feeling it under mine —so soft and delicate, for a moment I thought that maybe if I pushed my fingers inside of it I could spread it like a cloud made of cotton— when I pressed I could fee the shape of your bones underneath just a little, the sensation made my own body tremble.

It’s a shame you’re still shy to my touch, even if it’s something simple like a small caress or a kiss on the cheek you’re always trying to push away from me, I would love if you to cling onto me more when I do it or have you begging silently to do something more. I know you wouldn’t tell me with words, you’re not good with them.

Now that I think about it, I’ve never heard you say my name since I brought you here, no?

I should tell you what it is now so you could say it between sighs and I could engrave the sound on the back of my brain forever — those sweet sounds could captivate me forever.

I wonder if you’d say my name with a kind voice, or you’ll just talk to me with the same indifference and fear that’s so characteristic of you. I do admit that is kind of endearing, wild animals were always more interesting than domesticated ones thanks to their hostility, it makes me want to approach them, stick my hand, and see if they’ll bite me, or would just run away and hide in a corner.

I wouldn’t mind if you bit me, I would love to bite you as well in fact, I would wear that mark proudly and I would make sure you do it as well, we could bite our fingers and pretend the marks are our wedding rings, a testament of our love engraved on our skin.

Hahaha — I’m rambling again, please don’t get nervous, you know I usually get lost in my thoughts when I’m here with you, especially when my hands are idly dragging across your skin  — nails and all — leaving red marks behind.

I’m just tracing small invisible circles on your skin and you’re already getting goosebumps, I think that when I touch you delicately like this is when you fear it the most, right? I’m always keeping the momentum, you’ll never know when I can dig my nails into your skin or grab you and never let go.

I press a simple kiss on the skin of your heel, dragging my lips across the length of your leg, what a celestial feeling, there’s nothing in this world that could compare to this mere sensation. You’re trembling again, that makes me smile.

Sometimes when night falls and there are no more thoughts left to think inside my head my mind begins to wander off the path, usually it doesn’t lead me anywhere in particular, but since some time ago I’ve had this constant thought; there are other  —people— that had touched you like this before?

I would like to think that I’m the only one who had the privilege to enjoy all of you, that no other mark of fingers or teeth that doesn’t have the shape of mine has been on your skin.

Thinking like that makes sleeping easier for me.

I’m thankful that right now you can’t speak to me, because if I made you that question and you responded to me that yes, other people had marked you like I did, I think I would had the impulse to tear apart each part of you that has been tainted by them.

Not because I hate you, on the contrary, I just think I couldn’t live with the idea. That you belonged to someone else even if it was just for a moment, what am I saying? I don’t even like the idea of you belonging to yourself.

But if I were to do that, I think I’d like to go to extremes no other people could; kiss your open wounds or taste your blood, that would be romantic, don’t you think?

I press my face against your thighs while I keep dragging my nails up and down your legs, I sigh again, tilting my head slightly to take a better look at you, I can see myself reflected in your own eyes now, how romantic, just like in the movies you like to watch.

I like the me I see in your eyes, I like the idea that it belongs to you alone, the idea of you keeping each small expression I make just for you, each blink would be like a small photograph you take of me and keep inside your head, aaaalll yours.

My mother used to tell me that love is only true if you can see it reflected in the one you love,

From your red cheeks — was I too rough last night?

Your bruised knees — If you would just learn how to sit properly at the table already, it would make our meals more easy.

Your beautiful hands — You should stop trying to take off your handcuffs.

Your shining eyes — Is that a small tear I see? Maybe I should reach it and lick it, I wouldn’t like to go to waste.

Yes, I think for the first time something she said made sense, now that I took a better look at you, I don’t think there’s any better proof of this —

You’re the truest, most beautiful form of ‘love’.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi losing what is left of his patience when you get injured by a demon

Pairing: Sanemi x wife!reader

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: Despite the fact that your husband is the opposite of your quiet and kind self, you love him dearly while Sanemi treasures you in a purely unique way. But even though you learned to love his rough side the way it is, you can't stop tears from falling when your husband loses it after you get injured by a demon

Warning: this is THE angst to fluff y'all, Sanemi is a rough but soft boi I'm so weak for him in this fic omgomgomg, been listeing to again by noah cyrus and lana del rey while writing this, injury + angst + near death experience

this might be my favorite sanemi fic coming from my own hands so PLEASE if you feel the same, I'm super thankful for a lil like, comment or even reblog. THANK YOU SO MUCH 🤍

Oh, it was never easy, being the wife to none other than the wind hashira. When you’re quiet he’s noisy, when you’re put together he’s all over the place, while you act loving and kind Sanemi shows his devilish side.

But there was not once a day that made you second-guess your decision, not a single moment that made you feel something apart from deep affection for that man. It doesn’t matter that you are the opposite of him in each and every sense. He’s yours. And you’ll forever be his.

“Sanemi!”

Your oh so sweet voice echoes like a well-composed melody through his ears, makes him forget the wave of anger that washed over him earlier. Just seeing you standing there in the yukata he gifted you years ago while holding a dish with ohagi in your hands allows him to forget all the shit that happened for a brief second.

“Didn’t I tell you that you aren’t allowed to overwork yourself?”, he grumbles before sitting down opposite of you.

You look as good as always with your hair well-brushed and kind eyes lit by the down-going sun. What would his life look like if it didn’t contain of coming home to you? You, his only ray of sunshine. You, the only one who’s able to calm his temper down. Just you, his beloved wife. Who would have thought that out of all hashira, he’d be the one who treasures his wife the most?

“It’s not me who is overworked, but you. Did you get bruised again?”, you question with your melodic voice.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Will you stay home tonight?”

“I definitely hope so. If that crow disturbs my sleep again…”

“You have an important roll to fulfil, as a hashira-“

“’It’s my honor to bring peace to those who aren’t able to look out for themselves.’ Yeah, I already know.”

In contrary to his harsh tone, his fingertips caress your cheek gently while his eyes soften in an instant. It was hard, learning how to read him. When you first met, it was not uncommon that you broke out in tears after he talked to you like that. But now, after 4 years of getting to know him, you never lose your kind smile.

“How was your day?”, he continues.

With a swift motion, he pulls you between his legs and presses your head against his bare chest while his strong arms keep you in place. This are the moments that make your life worth living. Just you and your husband, arm in arm, watching the sunset in nothing but peace and silence.

“I enjoyed the nice weather while taking care of the garden. The tulips look exceptionally beautiful this season.”

“They’ll never be as beautiful as you, though”, he replies with low voice.

If life could stay like that. Oh, what you’d give to never let go of him again…

-later that night-

“Wind pillar, wind pillar! An emergency occurred! Countless demons were spotted nearby! The demon slayer corps need your assistance-“

“Can you just shut the fuck up”, Sanemi mumbles while pulling you closer sleep-drunken.

Immediately, you are wide awake. Nearby demons?

“Sanemi, you need to get up. What if someone gets injured?”, you whisper into the dark night.

“So what?”

You stare at him through the veil of darkness, not daring to say another word. He will get up eventually. He always does.

“Urgh, fine…Time to kill some demons, then”, he finally grumbles and drags himself away from you in order to put on his uniform.

“You stay here until I get back. Even if our estate is build pretty safe and I’ll rip off the heads of the demons around first, I don’t want you to be out there on your own. Got it?”, he instructs you before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead like he always does.

“I will. Please be careful and watch out for yourself”, you whimper.

It’s a challenge to let go of him each and every night he is forced to leave. He might be a hashira, but what if he doesn’t return by sunrise some day? What if he meets an upper-ranked demon unexpectedly? Just when he’s about to leave, you grab his hand one last time.

“And don’t act reckless”, you add.

No matter how much it hurts to let go of his hand, you know you have no other choice. This is the life you chose, the price you have to pay in order to call that wonderful man your beloved husband.

“I can never promise you that”, he replies before leaving you alone in the now cold and awkwardly dark room.

Everything will turn out alright. It just has to…

You don’t know how long you’ve been awake already. Minutes? Hours? All you’re able to do is stare at the ceiling above, ears perking up with every minor movement of the trees outside. Surely, Sanemi will return soon. Being the skilled fighter he is, it normally takes him at most two hours until he returns with his sheets still a little warm. But aren’t those two hours over already?

Another noise outside catches your attention. Is it a tree again? You furrow your eyebrows, immediately sitting up straight while staring outside the window. No, this almost sounds like the whimpers of a child. A child outside at this hour?

You swallow hard. A child outside when there are demons reported around this area?

“P-please, someone help me! I-I’m so s-scared!”

Your heart drops to the floor. There is no doubt in the fact that this has to be a child. Your mind starts racing back and forth. It would be absolutely unacceptable to leave that poor soul out on its own, especially when you can’t know if the area is really free of demons. But on the other hand…You bite your lip when your husband’s words replay themselves in your head.

“No matter what happens when I’m gone. Don’t. Go. Out. On. Your. Own. At. Night. Need me to spell it, (y/n)? Never ever, not in a million years. Got it?”

Not under any circumstances. Your husband made that very clear countless times. But does that include a helpless child outside your estate in the middle of the night? You aren’t a fighter like Sanemi is, even refused to keep an emergency katana in the house just in case. There is no way you could harm a single soul, not even a demon. Leaving a child outside in the middle of the night…isn’t that just as unforgivable?

Sanemi said that he’ll take care of the demons around first. That means you’re safe, right? But even if that poor child doesn’t face danger in the form of a demon, it will certainly freeze with that cold breeze rushing over the land these days.

“P-please, is someone there? I’m s-so tired and s-so cold…I…I can’t walk anymore…”

Your heart aches with every word. No matter how much value the promise you made towards your husband holds in your heart, you simply can’t stand the thought of ignoring an innocent little child that needs your help.

“Why are you out there all on your own, where are your parents?”, you shout into the darkness of your home while making your way to the door.

Is it really okay, breaking the promise you’ve made like that? You grab the handle of the door tightly. This might be the only time you’re actually useful. Without any skills apart from cooking, you can only watch from the side-lines how the demon slayer corps save the world. Maybe this is your chance to do a little something as well, your chance to actually be helpful.

You swing your door open while holding your breath.

“Where are you? Let’s get you inside and grab a warm tea, okay? You must be freezing”, you speak out gently, eyes scanning the garden for the little figure.

“I’m right here!”, the innocent voice cries out to your right.

Instantly, you pick up your pace and sprint towards the tiny figure lying in the grass. Oh no, you can’t imagine what this little child has been through, how it even got here. Did it get lost in the woods and failed to return before the night came? You’ll have to prepare a guestroom right away, just after inviting this little one in-

“Foolish woman.”

Time stands still, your glossy orbs starts to tremble when the tiny figure in front of you starts to build itself up, grows taller and taller until it surpasses your own height by multiple inches. This…this isn’t a child.

Your eyes widen in sheer horror, blood rushing through your ears so violently that you feel like fainting any given minute after it strucks you like lighting.

You were tricked by a demon. After Sanemi warned you over and over, you fell for the lousy trick of a demon. Out of instinct you start stumbling backwards, glossy eyes darted towards the horrific creature with bright red eyes and fangs bigger than your own head.

“I waited patiently until that demon slayer was gone. A young and beautiful woman like you sure tastes nice. Now that I’m seeing you fully, you were definitely worth the wait. I’m sure your flesh tastes excellent.”

Your blood freezes in your veins. Is this really how your life will come to an end? Because you didn’t listen to your husband, because you wanted to be somehow useful? How will Sanemi react, finding out that you were killed? Suddenly your legs threaten to give in and force you to come to a stand. It’s not like you’d be able to defend yourself in any kind of way when all you ever did was taking care of Sanemi and your imaginary perfect life.

A perfect life, ruined by one night of carelessness.

His face flashes in front of your inner eyes, the kind smile he always wore when he didn’t know you were watching. Despite the flaws others see in him, his hot temper and the way he treats his little brother, you are head over heels for him. Your husband, your everything, your Sanemi. A perfect little marriage, ruined by you.

“Don’t”, you hush into the night like the fool you’re are.

“How much I love hearing you little women beg not to get killed. Music in my ears!”

He dashes towards, ready to slice your throat open single-handed. Out of instinct, you let yourself fall backwards into the wet grass, watching how his claws brush over your forehead with enough force to discolour your vision red.

“Nice moves. You seem really healthy. That’s actually even better”, the demon purrs.

This is it. Your final moment on this earth, killed through the hands of a demon in your own well-groomed garden. You never imagined it all to go down like this, not when you’re still so young and full of love.

You didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye, to tell Sanemi one final time how much you adore him and that you’ll love him through everything. Will he be okay? The man who lost almost everything, who has to live with a burden heavier than earth itself balanced on his strong shoulders. This…this will break him even more.

“Any last words?”, the demon jeers at you.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. No, there is nothing this creature deserves to hear from you, not even a single scream will escape your lips. You rest your lids, picture his oh so gorgeous face in front of your inner eye. If you only had more time, if you only listened. Your beloved marriage, vanishing in thin air.

“I’m sorry Sanemi. I’m so so sorry…”

When will it be over?

“Touch her and you’ll die.”

What...No, this is impossible, you have to be dreaming-

“Or nah, you’ll die anyway.”

 The urge to open your eyes again becomes unbearable.

Your heart skips a beat. Instead of getting greeted by the claws of the demon, you’re able to read it very clearly.

“Destroy.”

This back, so familiar broad…

“Sanemi?”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay inside the house?”, he barks over his shoulder.

It happens faster than your eyes are able to follow. One high jump, one slash of his sword and the demon’s head falls onto the soft grass in front of you. Immediately, you are surrounded by dust rising towards the moon.

“What were you even thinking?”

Before you’re even able to feel relieved your husband storms towards you, not a single spark of affection gleaming in his furious eyes.

“You promised over and over”, he screams on top of his lungs.

“I’m-“

“And you fucking lied into my face!”

Roughly, he grabs your Yukata with both hands and yanks your throbbing figure towards him.

“I’m so-“

“Is all of this a joke to you? Don’t you trust your husband enough to do as you’re told!? You’ve had this one job, that one fucking job to stay inside the house!”

“Sanemi, I-“

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? Did you really want to die right here?”

“Sanemi…”

You breathe his name into the night with strangled voice, tears now streaming down your face like a waterfall. You made a reckless mistake, but none of this happened because you wanted to hurt him. His words, his furious gaze, his hardened eyes so venomous that you have to look away dig themselves like knives into your already fragile heart and simply take your breath away. Out of all feelings, your husband is livid at you.

“I…I’m sorry”, you finally press out.

“You could have died, (y/n). You know that?”

He pulls you towards himself even harder, his hands fisting the fabric of your yukata so tightly that you fear he might rip it.

“You could have died and I couldn’t have done a single fucking thing. Losing you…Fuck!”

He yanks your chin upwards with one hand, forces you to look at him through your wet lashes. But you aren’t greeted by his stone-cold glare. No, are those…tears shimmering in his orbs? What’s left of your heart breaks in an instant.

“I can’t lose you. Not you, not the love of my life. Not another loved one. I couldn’t fucking stand this shitty world without you by my side. How many times did I tell you to stay inside the house when I’m gone at night?”, he screams at you.

“I-I’m sorry”, you hush through shaky lips.

“You’re my everything. Fuck, I love you so much…Losing you like that…”

The next second you find yourself devoured in his strong arms, holding you pressed against his chest so tightly that you can feel his heart pounding.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, (y/n). Never”, he mutters into your hair while caressing your bloody hair.

“I’m sorry”, you mumble again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Are you hurt? You’re bleeding, goddamn. Let’s get you inside, this needs to get stitched up.”

You don’t dare to contradict, allowing him to carry you back into safety with your arms cramped around his neck.

You’re safe. Sanemi is absolutely furious with you, but the worry in his eyes, the gleam…You bury your head inside his uniform, desperately trying to escape your own foolishness. None of this would have happened if you just stayed inside like he told you. If you were smart enough…

“How did he get you outside?”, Sanemi finally breaks the silence while cleaning your wound.

“He played a scared and lost child”, you mumble.

“Huh, what I thought. You’d never break a promise over nothing”, Sanemi replies, his voice a little softer than before.

“I know you tried to help, but never to shit like that again. When I saw you lying there and your blood on the grass, I almost died. You’re my everything, my wife. I can’t lose you because of a demon, you hear me? I was so damn worried about you…”

“I just wanted to do something…useful…”

“Useful? Are you too dumb to see how useful you are?”, he bites back.

Sanemi stops barking at you immediately after seeing how glossy your eyes turn all over again. No matter how fucking mad he is right now, he can’t hurt you any further. It’s clear you acted out of the right motives, he shouldn’t scream at you like that. Especially since you almost died tonight. Not his wife, not when you’re everything he has.

“I treasure you more than everything else in this world. You’re the reason I’m still believing there’s something good left here. Don’t you dare to risk your important life like that again, got it?”, he gently continues before caressing your cheek the way you love so much.

“I never wanted to cause you this much trouble. I…I was acting dumb…”, you mutter, intertwining your fingers with his.

“We’re all a little dumb from time to time, yeah? Let’s go back to sleep, that was more than enough for one night.”

You don’t hesitate when he pulls you along into the oh so inviting sheets. With him by your side, they definitely feel way more inviting. With him by your side, you don’t have to fear a single nightmare haunting you down this frightful night.

“At least I’m having an excuse now for a day off tomorrow. I love you, (y/n). So so much”, Sanemi mumbles into your hair, holding you so comforting against his chest that sleep washes over you almost immediately.

“I love you too, Sanemi…”

There is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi held you even closer each and every night after almost losing you through the hands of a demon.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @skeleton-the-gangser (reader isn't pregnant in that one, but the vibe is the same as with the Yoriichi fic you enjoyed)

[yuwuta]

YOU AND I TOGETHER, WON’T YOU HOLD ON TO ME — YUUTA OKKOTSU

cw mentions of children, pregnancy. so much of yuuta being happy and sappy :(( sorry i haven’t shutup about my little depressed lovesick boy making it out and living a full life. probably won’t anytime soon actually. satoru is alive and well in all my renditions of happily ever after and that won’t change either i fear  

Yuuta talks about the future often. A future with you, and him, and your friends, and a family where you’re all together forever and he gets to love you until the end of time. 

Sometimes, you think he doesn’t realize what he’s doing—dreaming about forever with you; but you can never find it in your heart to break his illusion. The boy who used to dread his next waking moment is dreaming and dreaming and dreaming, and making all of yours come true. 

It’s quiet in this part of the Gojo compound. The gentle sounds of a stream running through the garden, and chirping of birds are the only noises that disrupt your daydreams. 

Or, perhaps, fuel them. 

“I hope our kids aren’t afraid of birds,” Yuuta muses, wide eyes looking past your face up to the tall trees, full of happily singing bluebirds, “There’s so many of them here.” 

You’re gentle when you stroke his hair, taking advantage of his head in your lap to pull the longer pieces out of his eyes. 

Your smile is giddy, unfiltered. “Kids? Plural?” 

Yuuta hums with smile. His eyes remain on the sky, chasing a pair of birds that flitter between long branches. 

“Yeah. At least two, so they don’t get lonely,” he says, “They’ll have us, and their cousins, and sensei, and our friends, but they’re going to need each other at home.”

Yuuta lets his eyes fall to you at the end of his sentence, a sparkling smile on his scarred lips. 

“I see,” you smile, “At least two so they can be friends.” 

“Best friends,” he revises your statement, “So they can train together, too, if they want to be sorcerers. Or not. It’s fine, either way.” He blinks, eyes warm, “I hear that four is the happy medium for a family, but I think three is going to be easier inheritance wise, if sensei is serious about making me clan head someday.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah, but if a fourth comes along, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” 

“I’m sure sensei will have made more than enough money for them by then.” 

Yuuta giggles, earnestly in your arms at that. “Of course he will.” 

You pause for a moment, committing his laugh to memory. His features flush slightly under your gaze, and you lean down to kiss his scarred forehead. You let your hands resume petting his hair, following in his gaze to look up at the birds. 

“Tell me more about them.” 

Yuuta doesn’t waste a moment, closing his eyes; letting you paint the picture in the sky for yourself as he talks. 

“The gap between the oldest and youngest is six or seven years. I think five might be enough, though. So, that means our middle one is about three when our littlest comes along.” 

“Unless a fourth happens.” 

Yuuta hums in agreement. “Unless a fourth happens. But we’ll have time.” 

You’ll have time, you nod. You have time now, you and him; all the time in the world. 

“A three year old and newborn sounds like a lot of work.” 

“Maybe. But we’ll also have a seven year old. He’s going to want to help with the baby, so we’ll have an extra hand,” Yuuta says, “And that’s not even counting sensei and the rest.” 

“He?”

“I think he’ll be a boy, the oldest. He might look like me, but he’ll act like you, so he’s going to be Kugisaki’s favorite.”

You find yourself choking out a genuine cackle at that. When you look down, Yuuta’s got a smile wider than yours. 

“He sounds wonderful. Like his father,” you confess, “But the idea of pregnancy thrice in a seven year span sounds exhausting.” 

“We can use surrogates. Or adopt. Or whatever,” Yuuta tells you, “Gojo-sensei will help us figure it out if we need help.” 

You have no doubt about that. And now, when you look back up to the sky, you can see vignettes of Gojo-sensei with your your seven year old on his shoulders, your middle child on his hip, and the baby gnawing at his legs. 

And then Yuuji is skipping into the scene, cooing at the youngest, picking him up and consoling him effortlessly. He carries the baby over to a crib with another crying newborn that looks eerily like Megumi, whose green eyes go wide at the stranger, then smile gummy as both babies reach for each other. 

Maki is there too, tapping your eldest on the shoulder with her staff and pretending not to have done it. Nobara holds up a shirt to the middle child, brassy in questioning Gojo why she told her that the baby would fit in this size that’s obviously too big, meanwhile the toddler ignores them both, fascinated with the marks on Toge’s cheeks as he plays peek-a-boo. 

It’s not hard to imagine. The scenes in your head aren’t wild fantasies or unattainable dreams—not anymore. 

“You want a big family.” 

Yuuta nods, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from his hair, and to his lips. “We have the resources for it now. Not just financially—we have time, and lots of friends, and lots of love.” 

Yuuta presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and you smile. He’s right, there’s more than enough love to go around. 

[starrystevie]

“i must have been real sweet on you,” eddie murmurs as he runs his fingers over his husband’s cheek, sleepy and sated, warm in their bed. 

steve chuckles, twisting his head to catch the tips of eddie’s fingers with a kiss. “why are you talking past tense? you’re not sweet on me now?”

the room is peacefully still. years of baby monitors are long gone only to inevitably give way to their daughter’s teenage years of slamming doors and too loud stereo speakers. but in this moment, with the pale moonlight streaming in through the windows and crickets chirping in the distance, the room is peaceful, thick with love. 

“quit your pouting, ‘course i’m sweet on you now.” eddie wipes away steve’s fake frown with a kiss, turning it into a sticky sweet grin. “it’s just something my mom used to tell me. that freckles are all the places your soulmate in a past life kissed you.”

eddie pushes steve back so he’s laying flat on the mattress and dips his head to press featherlight kisses on the side of his neck. across his shoulders. over his cheeks. his fingertips flutter over the spots afterwards, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the heat radiating between them. 

“must have loved you a whole lot in our last lives to leave so many on you now,” eddie whispers, pulling back to stroke the back of his hand over steve’s face once more, letting his lips curl up in a dopey half smile that only steve ever gets to see. 

it doesn’t take long for steve to tilt his head up and press kisses of his own where he can; under eddie’s eye, the bottom of his chin, right over his heart. it doesn’t take long for eddie to giggle as his sensitive spots are found and attacked with ticklish kisses and fluttering eyelashes. it doesn’t take long for their legs to tangle together underneath the sheets and their breaths to get caught in their chests and their hearts to start beating a beautiful melody of their own making. 

steve lays a firm kiss to the side of eddie’s chest, over jagged white scarring and half bitten away tattoos. over memories that somehow don’t haunt them as much anymore. 

“what was that one for?” eddie asks, eyes half lidded, the adoration in his voice loud across the quiet room. 

another kiss on another scar. “wanna give you some freckles. for your next life and for this one, too. so you know just how sweet on you I am-” kiss, “ -and was-” kiss, “- and forever will be.”

they won’t know for however many more years if it worked or not. but here in this lifetime, they have all the time in the world to try their damndest to make sure it does. in this lifetime, they don’t have to worry, because they know they’ll  find each other in the next one. 

[dollishmehrayan]

# BATBOYS WITH A SUNSHINE!READER ── .✦ ( basically batboys with a optimistic reader )

a/n: this was requested by anon (here) but anywayss i think I’m gonna do the world tour thing after my winter inspired fics/hcs end on like February 28th! (Dw i’ll still do the world tour thingy in between) but yahh also I desperately need writer mutals + mutals I mssg daily like I’m a very kind person idm if you dm me at like 4 AM, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Absolutely smitten. Your optimism is like a magnet for Dick, who thrives on positivity.

He calls you his “little ray of sunshine” (even if you roll your eyes at the nickname).

If he’s feeling down, your relentless optimism is a game changer. “How do you do that? How do you make the world seem so… bright all the time?”

Constantly teases you, especially if you’re being overly cheerful during random moments. “Are you seriously smiling right now? We’re getting ready to head to bed!”

But secretly, he loves it. Your energy balances his occasional doubts && insecurities. (he lovesss positive people who live in their own world)

Dick starts picking up on your habits leaving little notes of encouragement, giving random compliments to strangers and realizes how much better it makes his day.

JASON TODD ── .✦

At first, he’s skeptical. He’s not used to someone so genuinely cheerful, and he might think you’re putting on an act.

“How are you this happy all the time? What’s your secret? Coffee? Dark magic?”, “I just like seeing the world differently, I’m a poet in my mind.”

But over time, he warms up to your positivity and even craves it (to a point he gets sad if you aren’t around for more than 4 hours). You’re the light that cuts through his darker moments and more sulking personality.

“I don’t know how you do it, but you make me feel like the world’s not completely screwed.”, “what did you say?-“, “Nothing go back to sleep.”

He pretends to be annoyed when you try to cheer him up after a rough day, but he secretly loves when you coax a laugh out of him.

Jason starts jokingly calling you his “emotional support sunshine.” He’ll tell Roy, “Yeah, they’re like my personal antidepressant.”

Will protect your positivity at all costs. If anyone tries to dim your light, they’ll have to deal with him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Finds your optimism so refreshing. Tim can be a little too caught up in stress and overthinking, so your energy is like a breath of fresh air.

He’s constantly asking, “How are you so happy all the time? Teach me your ways.”

If you leave him little notes of encouragement, he’ll treasure them forever. He has a drawer full of them and pulls one out whenever he’s having a bad day.

Sometimes, your cheerfulness makes him feel a little guilty. “You’re so good, and here I am being a grump.” But you always remind him it’s okay to have bad days.

Tim loves how you bring optimism even to his most chaotic moments. “Yeah, sure, we’re being late, but hey, at least it’s not raining, right?”

He’d be a little overwhelmed by your energy at times, but he admires you deeply for seeing the good in everything.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian does not know what to do with you at first. Your cheerfulness is a complete mystery to him.

“Why are you smiling? We are surrounded by incompetence.”

He pretends to be annoyed, but deep down, he finds your positivity oddly comforting.

Over time, he starts looking forward to your optimistic take on things. “Yes, fine, maybe there is a silver lining. Stop gloating.”

You have a knack for breaking through his tough exterior. If he’s grumpy, you’ll say something so genuinely kind that he can’t help but soften.

Damian secretly loves how you see the good in him, even when he doesn’t see it himself.

He starts to mimic your habits, like giving Alfred small compliments or trying to look on the bright side, but he’ll deny it if you call him out.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce admires your positivity but doesn’t always understand it. “How do you manage to stay so cheerful in Gotham of all places?”

At first, he worries your optimism will make you naive, but he quickly realizes it’s your strength.

Your energy is a stark contrast to his brooding nature, and he starts leaning on it more than he cares to admit.

When he’s stuck in his head or doubting himself, you always know what to say to pull him out of it.

“You make it sound so simple,” he says after you give him one of your pep talks. But he smiles because somehow, you do make it simple.

You bring a sense of warmth and nostalgia into the Wayne Manor. Bruce finds himself more relaxed when you’re around, even in the middle of chaos.

He’ll never admit it to the others, but your optimism is one of his favorite things about you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Ok, it was basically a request where the batboys brought their significant other as their date to a gala for the first time, they leave for a second (to get drinks or go to the bathroom or something to that end) and when they come back the see their S/O being harassed by a group of socialite women that keep talking about how they can’t believe someone like the batboy is with such a plain little nobody. That was the gist of it. Sorry 😣

I kinda made Tim’s as bit different than requested, but I couldn’t help but see him grill an entire household and their business ventures. Then again I kinda took creative liberties with all of them.

Dick

Is the type to put on an extremely strained smile across his face as he puts his arm over your shoulders.

‘What’s wrong my love, why the saddened face?’ He asks you sweetly, intentionally ignoring the rich and powerful in front of you both.

‘Oh don’t worry yourself with…that thing dear Richard, they’re too emotional to be in a room with people they could only dream of being in the presence of. I wouldn’t get so close to it if I were you, you might catch their filth.’ One of them sneered and Dick’s jaw tensed in agitation as his eyes remained on you.

‘Do you wanna leave?’ He says in a whisper as he wipes a tear away from your cheek, lightly pinching it in hopes of seeing you smile at him.

‘Yes please, I want to go home and be with Hayley.’ You whispered back, griping his arms tightly, thankful that his body blocked out the rich people that were berating you. Dick’s face softened as he kissed the top of your head, hoping of giving you some form of comfort in your time of distress, before looking back at the rich people with a faux grin.

‘If you please excuse us, my lovely sweetheart, my beloved cutie and my forever lover wishes to leave this drab place and who am I to deny my love of her wishes, for I shall wait on them hand and for forever if it pleases them so because between you and me?’ He then leans close to them. ‘You don’t have the heart to sacrifice everything for the one you love, if you even have hearts in the first place. You posses no freedom and no personality whatsoever for anyone to love nor adore, them however?’ He points towards you as you look at him with a small smile, a smile so sweet that Dick couldn’t help but smile back.

‘They are my everything. I couldn’t think about living without them, not when they’ve don’t nothing but be kind and respectful of me and my time. I don’t deserve them but neither does this city, they’re an angel in human skin that I wish to worship as long as they’ll let me.’ You could feel your cheeks burn at his words as your smiles widened at the twinkle of love within his gorgeous eyes. Dick had a way with words unlike any other and despite being on the receiving end of them for a while now, you still find yourself becoming alight with emotions because of him.

‘So if you’ll excuse me kindly.’ Dick says as he takes your hand and walks you both out of the door where he stops to look at you with concern.

‘I am so sorry you had to deal with them, apparently money makes someone feel entitled to speaking on someone else’s relationship.’ Dick spat as he glared at the grand double doors and you touched his cheek, making him melt into your touch, kissing your palm.

‘It’s okay Dickie bird, let’s just forget this night and go home, get out of these clothes and into some comfy pyjamas and cuddle on the couch as we watch soaps.’ You say as you attempt to calm him down from his passionate outburst and declaration of love, which seems to work as Dick’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

‘Can we wear the matching pyjamas that I got us and Hayley?’ He asks and you couldn’t help but kiss his lip, finding him too adorable in this moment in time, which is something of a occurrence as you’d soon find as you reflect back on your relationship. ‘Of course my sweetie, of course we can wear matching pyjamas.’ You replied and Dick cheered as he leaned to kiss you fully on the lip, his happiness having been contagious as you smiled into the kiss.

Damian

Wishes Bruce didn’t confiscate the sword from him.

He’s the type who can silence anyone with a single fucking glare. So when he sees that you, his beloved, was being harassed by the elitist snobs.

He’s quick to step in and start berating them himself, all dignity and respect has gone out the window for these cretins don’t deserve an ounce of it as far as he was aware. ‘I don’t believe that my relationships are your concern,’ he begins, ‘you’re not kin and thus should’ve learned at an early age that not every topic of interest requires your out of touch input.’

‘Wha-‘ they tried to say but Damian was back on them with another verbal assault.

‘Also I could hear you from across the room, didn’t your parents or paid teacher teach you about volume control? or did they get paid extra to not say a thing in fear your fragile little ego gets crushed under the harsh truth?’ Damian then spits out as he feels you clinging onto his back, which only fuels his need to berate these vile people as karma.

Damian would be their karma if it was the last thing he did.

The rich people chocked on air, not knowing what to say as it was hard to do so when Damian was staring them down, wanting them to say something, anything so that he could verbally beat them down until they submit. He lives for a verbal spat but unfortunately the people whom he’s up against have never had to fight for their honour and dignity, they just paid people to shut up or have people who encourage their pathetic, self entitled behaviour.

‘Enough, don’t hurt yourself trying to think with whatever’s behind those pompous eyes of yours.’ Damian sneered as he looks to you with a soft look. ‘Let’s go my beloved, I have already informed my father of the situation and has Alfred come pick us up to take us back to the manor.’ He says softly as he takes your hand in his as you both began walking away form the group of gobsmacked rich folks, a sight to behold truly as those entitled Individuals love nothing more then the sound of their own voice.

‘Why’d you do that?’ You asked and Damian looked at you as though you grew a second head.

‘Do what? Defend your honour, is that not what a lover is meant to do?’ He says with a raised brow and you couldn’t help but feel a little silly, of course Damian would defend your honour to the death but still insecurities tend to make you forget his undying loyalty.

‘You’re right I’m sorry, I’m just being a little stupid.’ You replied as you downcast your eyes to the floor and Damian stopped to lift your head up by your chin as his emerald eyes glint with concern. ‘Do not heed their words my treasure, for they lack a love that isn’t in due to money. Ours is genuine, if there’s anyone who has to fear for our relationship it is me for I am not the easiest to deal with at times.’ Damian admits as he lets go of your chin.

‘That’s not true.’ You retorted, holding his cheek in your free hand, caressing his cheek. ‘You’re perfect the way you are! A work in progress in being even more beautiful than before and I’m happy to be by your side and watch you grow into an amazing person dami.’ You add as you kiss his cheek, making him smile softly as he rubs against your hand.

‘See, this is what I’m talking about.’ Damian says softly. ‘You are perfection, a being beyond words and I’d be a fool if I didn’t treasure you entirely.’

Jason

That’s it, you’re leaving.

Jason tried to be civil but it’s hard to be civil with out of touch, tone deaf, Botox having, plastic surgery abusing, elite snobs that couldn’t fucking lace their own shoes because their filthy money had that be someone else’s job.

He’s not fucking staying and neither are you to deal with verbal abuse by people who single handedly have run Gotham into the ground with their shady tactics, personally funding the corrupt police officers, police officers that dare spout words like ‘protect and serve’ as though they know the meaning of the fucking word.

He’s marching over to you and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he’s walking you both out of the room, leaving the elites to talk amongst themselves as he guided you outside where thankfully no elite snob can eavesdrop on either of you.

‘Are you okay?’ He asks you as he holds your face between his hands.

‘No… I want to go home.’ You admitted, their words cutting deeper than you’d ever think imaginable.

Jason felt anger flowing through his veins but he knew that you needed him more then ever at this moment, so shouting at some elite snobs can wait for another day, you were his highest priority as he brought you into his chest and kissing your head. ‘Then we’re going home.’ He says with certainty.

‘What about Bruce?’ You asked, looking at him with tearful eyes, not wanting their relationship to fracture just as it was slowly starting to mend.

Jason shrugged, uncaring of what the old man would think, you got insulted and he wasn’t going to let it slide in the slightest. ‘Fuck Bruce, you’re what matters to me.’ Jason says as he kisses your nose, cheeks and lips softly before resting his head against yours. ‘Now let’s ditch this place and go get ourselves some burgers, how does that sound chipmunk?’

You chuckled. ‘Can we get some fries too.’

‘Of course we can, whatever my sweetheart desires.’ Jason replies as he takes your hand again, this time leading you both out of the grand building in a quest to satiate your feelings with the most greasiest of foods.

Tim

Has the most dirt on the elite in my eyes.

Every scandal, every controversy, every crime they’ve committed and gotten away with by covering it up. He has a file as thick as a book on them and he’s not afraid to use it.

And needless to say that the idea to destroy their reputation was more then tempting then ever when he sees that your being harassed. So when he confronts them on their behaviour, he gets really cryptic about how much he actually knows about these people to such an intimate level.

‘I know what you did.’ He’d say.

‘What are you on about?’ They’d ask, thinking this was all a bit to make them laugh.

‘Friday 12th, 12:55am. The incident that cost workers their lives, families whom of which you’ve failed to compensate for who are now threatening to take you to court before you dealt with them in hush money. All just so it doesn’t leak to the press that you knew what you were dealing with was highly unstable and willingly let those workers in unstable and dangerous working conditions.m Tim watches as their faces drop, preparation visible on their foreheads and he continues on, feeling you squeeze his arm.

‘Only to end up illegally selling the product to unground crime syndicates to make ends meet in due to how much money you’ve initially lost.’ Tim then says in response, watched as their faces become unsettlingly pale as they excuse themselves while exiting the room.

He’ll say or this or just say ‘they are after what they’re owed.’ And leave it at that.

Once he’s satisfied that he’s silenced them and damaged their egos, he looks to you with concerned eyes. ‘Are you okay lovely?’ He asks you as he sees just how small you’ve made yourself because of them.

‘I’m fine Tim thanks to you.’ You said as you hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek as he pats your back before rubbing it soothingly. ‘ I thought they wouldn’t shut up, or follow me whether I went just to degrade me for walking or whether else they could degrade me for.’ You add as you burrowed your head into his neck, wanting to forget this had ever happened.

‘All you need to remember is that they’re more flawed and easier to expose, you however,’ Tim kisses your temple, tightening his hold, ‘are more then they could ever comprehend and have more heart and soul then they do and I couldn’t be prouder to be your partner. Thank you for choosing me.’ He finished.

‘I’d choose you every time Tim.’ You replied.

‘Then expect me to do the same bedside there’s no one else I’d rather have them you.’ Tim promised as you stayed in this embrace for a good while before deciding to leave and watch your favourite show on his laptop for comfort.

[draconic-desire]

🔹 Oculus Infinitum 🔹

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

[the-moon-files]

I’m not sure if I’ve said this one already or not, but I wanted to tell you anyways! It’s about the humans-are-not-hylians AU!

You know the uncanny valley evolution? That thing where when you look at something that resembles a living being too closely and some part of your mind is screaming that it’s not whatever it looks like and to get away from it? Imagine that with the reader! They can spot shapeshifters easily because of this, but it instills the same extreme primal fear we’d experience, so it might be hard for the reader to confront them at first and they’ll instead just tell the Chain for a while.

This might be a double edged sword, though, because when Twilight is in his wolf form, the reader still gets that same feeling when “Wolfie” is looking at them, whether or not they know it’s Twilight. In this case, the first time the reader spots Wolfie approaching the camp, they probably freak out and try to avoid him, even if the Links are okay with him or if he seems familiar to them.

The bottom line is that wolf isn’t a wolf, so what is he?

“It’s okay, he’s a really friendly wolf!”

“...That’s not a wolf...”

Sorry i took forever to respond!! im slow as always, life is too busy for even my hobbies lately sobs 😭

bro this is especially true bc someone looked back at TP games and how he looks in his “wolf” form, and apparently he is actually a dog lol - like at most a wolf-hybrid, i added this in to support this Hyrule-is-hella-Uncanny AU lol

Moon: Guide! - Gender Neutral/Masc!Reader (”you”/he/him)

Orbit: Short headcanons

Stars: mentions of most of our Links <3

Comets & Meteors: CWs: typical LU/Loz violence, mild swearing, etc & TWs: mild possible derealization trigger, talk of Link’s Awakening and Koholint.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

The Yiga clan members have never fooled you, not Once in person, unlike back when hyrule was still a video game

it was the constant smell of bananas, the way their eyes were always a little unfocused or they moved their head to move around their eyes, rather than their actual pupils moving, the facial muscles all stiff, usually stuck in an uncomfortable smile-

it makes more sense once u realize that they technically have a mask under that glamour hylian face, but its never not hilarious to see Wild look over his shoulder at you before approaching a lone traveler on the roads and watch him get increasingly frantic to get ur attention to see if theyre yiga lmao

u bet ur ass every link was relying on you on their adventures to know shapeshifters/illusions/glamours/etc. on sight and tell them to better prep them/warn them

tbh they all got at least a little better at being able to tell the difference the longer they heard you point out stuff/talk abt exactly why it was off-putting

(that said some of ur heroes are better at it than others, both in general, and certain aspects of it: like Twilight isn’t able to pick up illusions/glamours for the life of him, literally, sometimes, but he is more likely to figure out shapeshifters by scent after you Guided him)

(no, your heart didnt crack a little after learning that the boys had a harder time with deceit after you stopped playing the game = “were forced to leave after their adventure” bc while they were better at detecting it, they werent on ur human level yet..)

(…the only deception you ever really fell for was Koholint. It was so painful too, because Legend quietly disclosed to you one late night that you would constantly get strange feelings/uncanny disturbances, but were never able to put a name to it for him, which both made you jumpy/paranoid on the island, but made him regret ever letting his guard down all the more or feel guilty for what felt like dismissing ur instincts the more he relaxed… Legend never doubted your sense for the uncanny ever again. He takes it seriously every time now.

When you feel as if you should apologize, he tells u not to, that these days he takes comfort in it actually, it makes him feel safer. Legend looks to your face for confirmation that something isn’t a dream, and if you look at ease, so is he.)

its the way you casually laugh at Twi being called “Wolfie” when he’s obviously a wolf-dog hybrid or just a big dog

and when everyones confused u just explain smth smth, wolf heads are larger in comparison to their body, their legs are narrow, their paws are big, dogs are like the oppposite, or way more proportional like “Wolfie” is, dogs bob around when they run like “wolfie”, and have shorter legs,

smth smth wolves cant have eye colors like blue, only dogs/wolf-dog hybrids can silly-

and Wolfie is just like, 😐 😑 😐

turning around and walking away, bc hylias knotted fucking braid- he really cant escape the dog accusations now, you literally used ur freaky truth-seeing instinct and read his shapeshifter ass from head to literal toe/paw-

Wild/Hyrule look fascinated, Wind and Legend cant breath theyre laughing so hard, Time is coughing suspiciously into his fist and pops back up smirking, Four is laughing but also encouraging you to keep going, Sky is desperately trying to keep it together while also trying to get Twi to come back lmao, Wars is literally pointing and laughing ashkljdl-

ok but Twi gets his revenge later by tricking you into yapping abt how Hyrule/Four/Time all kind of look “off” sometimes too

like how u swear Rulie is glowing subtly when the moon is full, or how the world distorts behind his back sometimes,

or how Four’s eyes change colors all the time, his fighting style looks like its rotating between 4 diff ppl’s techniques,

or how Time’s face wrinkles like smile lines/crows feet at the corner of his eyes will randomly appear and disappear, how he’ll have some stubble one day then 3 days later despite having not shaven (u literally saw him wake up and do his morning routine) it’ll disappear like it was never there in the first place-

and when Twi has stopped asking you abt the others as they all reel over the knowledge of what all u can tell abt them,

(ur quietly relieved no one asked abt Wild.

You resolve urself to just lie if anyone asks, even to Wild himself.)

☆

hey im alive!! im slow yknow how it is,

ive been doing too much, and i cant wait to be done with this class so i can have free time guilt free again 🥲

god thats one good thing abt getting out of academia i dont miss and would only wish on my worst enemy,

the anxiety of doing smth, even necessary stuff like eating/sleeping/showering, and feeling liek you should be doing homework instead, god its so awful

cant wait to feel like an adult with my own life again lmao

that certification better work and get me a white collar job goddamit 🤞

anyway, hope ur all having a good weekend,

and just to let u know, im so happy acc that im alive to see the first zelda game that actually follows what i originally thought the plot of zelda games was when i was a kid lmao

(zelda as the protag, saving link!!)

Peace out,

🌙

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Puppy Love | CL16

PART OF MY IS IT CASUAL NOW? SERIES

Summary: He would give a resigned sigh, reluctantly releasing her, but not without one last lingering gaze that hinted he would much rather spend the day wrapped up in her than without her.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

As summer break arrived, Monaco blossomed under the warm sun, and so did their situationship. Charles was back, and he practically took up residence at her place. He’d returned with a clinginess that was both amusing and endearing, like a puppy yearning for attention, which only made her smile.

Every time she prepared for work, he would wrap his arms around her waist, burying his face into her neck, groaning dramatically. “Do you really have to go?” he would whine, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “Can’t you just call in sick? I’m pretty sure they’ll survive without you for one day.”

She’d chuckle, playfully shoving him away. “Charles, I can’t just bail on work because you’re back. Besides, someone has to pay for all those late-night takeout orders.”

His eyes widened dramatically, and he pulled away slightly, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. “Excuse me? Are you saying I’m not paying for your late-night snacks? I’m literally a millionaire! I can pay for anything you want! You could just stay here with me forever!”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she moved toward the door. “Oh, really? You think I could live off your millionaire bank account while you’re out racing? What a dream that would be!”

“Absolutely! You could be my princess, and I’ll treat you like royalty!” he declared, leaning against the wall, his expression teasingly serious.

“Yeah, right,” she replied, picking up a nearby pillow and tossing it at him. “You’d probably just put me in charge of your laundry!”

He caught the pillow with ease, clutching it to his chest as he feigned heartbreak. “That’s a very important job! Someone has to make sure my clothes don’t get wrinkled!”

“Poor Charles,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “It must be so hard being a millionaire and all.”

He pouted, but she couldn’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss on his cheek “I’ll be back soon, I promise!”

His pout was so exaggerated it was almost comical, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable. “But I miss you when you’re gone!” he’d argue, pulling her back toward him and pressing a quick, soft kiss to her forehead. “It feels like I just got back, and you’re already abandoning me.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re such a baby! It’s just a few hours. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He would give a resigned sigh, reluctantly releasing her, but not without one last lingering gaze that hinted he would much rather spend the day wrapped up in her than without her.

One sunny afternoon, as she was tidying up the apartment, the door swung open, and Charles strode in, his excitement palpable. In his arms was a little bundle of fur that yipped playfully, its tail wagging furiously.

“What on earth is that?” she asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed, a bright grin on his face. “Meet Leo!”

She looked from Charles to the puppy and back again, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Leo? you brought home a puppy?”

Charles nodded enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Yes! I thought we could use a little one to brighten up our home. Plus, this is our new baby!”

“Our baby?” she repeated, a hint of disbelief creeping into her voice. “Charles, you mean your puppy, right? What do you mean, our baby?”

“He’s our puppy!” Charles replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Leo needs a mom, and besides, he can keep you company whenever I’m out racing and you refuse to come with me!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You think just because you call him our baby, that makes him ours?”

Charles shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I mean, why not? It’s perfect!”

“Wait a minute,” she said, looking from the puppy to Charles and back again, a playful frown forming on her face. “This is still your puppy, not ours. And I’m not sure I can be a good puppy mom! I can barely keep my plants alive!”

He leaned closer, a playful glint in his eyes. “Come on! Just think about it. You can take care of him, and we can be a family! Plus, he needs someone to love him while I’m away.”

She rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, kneeling beside her as Leo bounced around her feet, his little tail wagging furiously. “Look how much he loves you already!”

Leo dashed between them, barking excitedly, and she found herself reaching down to pet the exuberant little pup. “Okay, okay,” she relented, grinning as Leo nuzzled into her hand. “But you have to take care of him, too. I can’t do this all on my own while you’re off being a superstar.”

“Deal!” Charles agreed, his face lighting up. “I’ll take him on all my runs. We’ll be the ultimate team!”

The next few days were a whirlwind of puppy chaos and laughter. Leo was a whirlwind of energy, darting around the apartment, chasing after toys, and testing the limits of their patience. She and Charles found themselves falling into an easy routine, their lives seamlessly intertwining with the new addition.

One afternoon, while they lounged on the floor, Leo bouncing between them with a toy in his mouth, Charles looked at the pup with a furrowed brow, then back at her. “You know, Leo really seems to like you more than me,” he sulked, his tone mock-serious.

She giggled, scooping Leo into her arms, the little guy licking her face enthusiastically. “Of course he likes me more! I’m his mom!”

“Wow, okay, don’t rub it in!” he huffed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the one who brought him home!”

“Doesn’t matter! Obviously, our kid likes his mom more,” she teased, watching as a dreamy look spread across his face, his expression softening.

Suddenly, without warning, he lunged at her, tackling her gently to the carpet. Leo jumped along, barking excitedly as they tumbled into a heap, laughter filling the room. Charles captured her in his arms, pinning her down with a grin that lit up his face. “You can’t just steal my puppy’s affection like that!”

“Maybe I can,” she challenged, her breathless laughter echoing in the room as Leo bounced around them, eager to join in the fun.

“Fine,” he said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “If Leo loves you so much, then I guess I have to remind you who’s the real winner here.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a warm, soft kiss, the world around them fading away. Leo, ever the enthusiastic participant, dove in to lick Charles’s cheek, causing him to pull back with a laugh.

“Okay, okay, I guess we have to share the love,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “But I’m still the favorite, right?”

“Sure, Mr. Favorite,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she scratched Leo behind the ears. “For now, you can keep that title—just don’t get too comfortable.”

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll take it, especially if it means I get to keep having moments like this.”

A few days passed and they were lounging on Charles' couch, with Leo curled up between them and a half-empty bowl of popcorn resting on her lap. It was one of those blissfully calm evenings, where they’d both surrendered to laziness and were content just to be together. She didn’t expect any surprises, which was probably why his next words caught her entirely off-guard.

“So,” Charles started, his voice all too casual as he ran a hand through Leo’s fur, “my mom invited you to dinner.”

She nearly choked on her sip of tea, coughing as she set the cup down and looked at him, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, what?”

Charles’s lips curved into a sheepish smile, his cheeks a bit pink. “My mom invited you to dinner,” he repeated, a little slower, and with that too-innocent tone he used when he was trying to soften the impact of something.

“Why…?” she finally managed, still blinking in surprise. “I mean, why would she invite me? Does she even know about me?”

“Kind of,” Charles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away, looking a little too guilty. “I might’ve mentioned our… friendship a couple of times.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You talked to your mom about us?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, shifting uncomfortably but keeping his gaze steady now. “She likes hearing about what’s going on in my life. And…Arthur may have told her about you too, after the Grand Prix.”

“Arthur?” She laughed, surprised. “So you’ve got your whole family talking about me?”

Charles laughed too, though he looked a little bashful. “Not my whole family,” he teased. “But, well, Arthur thought you were great, and he might’ve said some things.”

“Some things?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know…” he trailed off, scratching Leo’s ears, clearly trying to downplay it. “Just that I’d been spending a lot of time with you, and how I kept talking about you, apparently.” He coughed, a little red creeping into his cheeks. “And…there was that video that went viral. The one of us celebrating after the race, remember?”

Ah, yes—the clip that had circulated all over social media, where they’d been caught hugging and him kissing her face right after the race. She’d nearly forgotten how the internet had blown up with speculation after that.

Her mouth dropped open as she took it all in. “So your whole family knows about us because you keep talking about me?”

Charles shrugged, looking both a little shy and quite pleased with himself. “Maybe,” he said, drawing out the word in a way that made it clear he didn’t mind one bit. “Besides, you know how my family is. Lorenzo’s been complaining that Arthur got to meet you first, so now he has to meet you too, or it’s unfair, apparently. It’s a whole thing.”

She tried to process that, feeling a strange mix of nerves and amusement. “And your mom… what did you tell her exactly?”

Charles smirked, enjoying her reaction. “Just that you’re a really good friend I’ve been spending a lot of time with, and that you take great care of Leo. My mom just decided she needed to meet this ‘friend’ for herself.”

“Oh, right,” she said, shaking her head, still processing the surprise. “So your mom saw that video, heard about me from Arthur, and then decided she just had to meet me?”

Charles shrugged, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “Can you blame her? You’re pretty interesting.”

She rolled her eyes, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. “That still doesn’t explain why she’d want me to come to dinner. Meeting your mother is…kind of a big deal, Charles. And weren’t we just…casual?”

“Of course we’re casual,” he said, though his tone was light, and he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “You’ll just be going as my friend, that’s all. Meeting your friend’s mom is normal, right?”

She hesitated, glancing down at her hands, which suddenly felt fidgety. There it was again—that odd feeling she kept trying to push down, the tug of wanting this to be more, even though they’d never really talked about it. “I mean…I guess,” she murmured. “It just feels like…a lot.”

Charles tilted his head, his expression softening as he watched her, clearly sensing her hesitation. “Hey,” he said, reaching over to nudge her shoulder gently. “It’s just dinner. And besides, you’ll have me there the whole time. My family’s just curious about you, that’s all.”

“Curious?” She laughed, some of her tension easing away. “What, Lorenzo needs to check off a list that says ‘Meet Charles’ friend’ or something?”

He smirked. “Pretty much. Lorenzo’s been giving me a hard time because Arthur met you first. He’s jealous, you know?”

“Oh, so now I’m some prize to be won?” she teased, folding her arms.

“Well,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping flirtatiously, “if that’s how you want to think of it, I don’t mind.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him. “Alright, and what does the prize-winner wear to this dinner? Since I’m meeting your mother, I guess I need to impress her?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed, his gaze dropping to her with a twinkle. “Remember that black dress? You know, the one that drives me absolutely crazy?”

“Of course that would be the one you suggest,” she said with a grin, pretending to roll her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the little thrill she felt at his reaction.

He chuckled, inching closer. “I just have good taste, that’s all.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, but her thoughts were anything but calm. Meeting his family felt…big. Like they were something more than casual. Her heart started racing as she thought of it, yet she reminded herself that he’d only said she was a friend. They’d never put a label on this, so she had no right to expect anything.

“Alright,” she finally said, exhaling a breath. “I’ll go.”

Charles broke into a smile, squeezing her hand excitedly. “Perfect! You’ll love them. And they’ll love you, too. Maman picked the restaurant with the best Tiramisu so you’ll enjoy it a lot!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, feeling both excited and a bit nervous. As he pulled his phone out to call his mom, she leaned back, letting her thoughts wander. Their relationship was a weird blur between casual and something…more. She didn’t know if meeting his family would change anything, but she also couldn’t shake the feeling that her heart was more involved than she’d let herself admit.

[drabblesandimagines]

Swipe Right

Leon Kennedy x female reader, commissioned piece Lots of dumb fluff ahead! Thanks so much to the lovely @porcelainseashore for commissioning me with the brief of Leon using a dating app! I've said it before and I'll say it again - please do go check out Porcelain's fics! x

“So,” Leon places his elbows on the counter behind, leans back and flashes a winning smile, “how about dinner later?”

The auburn-haired woman waits for her coffee to finish dispensing before she shakes her head, lips pursed. “No, thank you, Agent Kennedy.”

“Oh.” He was sure they’d had some sort of connection. Their eyes had met across the office on more than one occasion, flirtatiously so – had he read it wrong? “You have plans already tonight?”

“Mm, something like that.” She smiles, politely, picking up her DSO-branded mug and heading out of the break room without so much as a glance back.

Leon shrugs it off – he’s good at that – and places his own mug under the spout, about to make his coffee selection when a familiar voice chirps over his shoulder.

“Have you ever thought of internet dating?”

He spins round, surprised. “Claire?”

“Hi.” She waves with a smile. “So, internet dating?”

Leon’s brow furrowed, about to ask why she was here, but from the visitor lanyard around her neck it was clear it was down to some sort of TerraSafe business, but why is she going on about internet dating?

Oh.

“Wait, did you hear…?”

“The dinner invite? Oh, yes.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Does that ever work?”

“Yes.”

Claire quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, not recently.” He retorts, turning back around and pressing the button for his black coffee to start dispensing.

“Uh-huh…” She steps forward, turns to lean against the counter to look at him. “I’m telling you, Leon - internet dating. I finally convinced Chris to give it a go about six months back, and he seems pretty happy. Been seeing a nice girl for three months now – a florist.”

Leon shakes his head, watching the coffee dispense with feigned interest. “Surprised Redfield went for it. How the hell do you introduce anyone to what we’ve seen?” At least with women from work, he didn’t have to skirt around what the hell he does all day.

“Heard of keeping work and homelife separate?”

“And Chris manages that?”

“I mean, she knows what he’s shared with her, but he took it slow. It’s not like the government can keep everything secret these days – not with everyone having a smart phone.” Claire grimaces, remembering the videos of the Alcatraz attack popping up on social media on a live stream. It was taken down pretty quick, but still popped up occasionally. They can’t hide it forever.

“Anyway, enough about Chris’ love life, I’m trying to help yours. Have you tried it? There’s websites and apps…”

Leon recalls a week of medical leave – battered, bruised and laid out on the couch on high doses of meds, flipping through the cable channels and losing hours to a show about people falling in love over the internet, only for the person to be using a fake photo of an entirely different identity and being crushed when they met in person.

“Isn’t that where the catfish are?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “We won’t set your radius that large.”

He looks down, a little confused. “My… radius?”

Leon’s not present on social media, but that’s hardly a surprise with his work. Maybe, if things had been different, he would’ve trawled through it at some point – joined a group for graduates from the Police Academy of ’98, checked in, gone to some sort of graduating class reunion where they would’ve swapped stories from precincts over a lukewarm beer or two in a hall dressed up with balloons and streamers.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the names of anyone in his graduating class, though he’s not sure if that’s down to a certain amount of knocks to the head throughout his career getting to him. He could look them up – they’ll be in some sort of database somewhere that Hunnigan could help him locate, but what would he say?

“Me? Well, I had one day on the job – hell of a first day, actually – and then I was ‘recruited’ into military training, so technically not a cop anymore either.”

“Phone, please.” Claire has moved to sit down at one of the small tables in the kitchen, now holding out her hand expectantly. He finds himself joining her, mug of coffee in one hand and the other pulling out his cell from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it over because it’s Claire and he’s known her long enough now to know she’s not going to drop the subject so easily.

“Have you got any selfies on here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“To put on your profile. Anything I shouldn’t see in your gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Leon?” She must’ve opened the app by the way she’s scrolling down on the screen. “These are all sunsets and photos of your motorcycle.”

“What should I be picking pictures of?”

“Oh, wait… Here’s one.” She turns the phone around. It’s him, grinning, next to a corpse of a zombiefied lion. “I repeat – seriously, Leon?”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles in acknowledgement. “I was trying to get Hunnigan interested in fieldwork with the spectacular sights.” Claire turns the phone back around and the sound of a camera shutter clicks out of the speaker.

“Ooh, that’s a good candid – and no-one needs to know what you were looking at.”

“Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t know about all this…” He rubs the back of his head.

“It’s 30 days free. Just try it and if you still don’t like it by the end of the trial, you can delete it off your phone and I won’t bring it up again.”

He stalls, taking a long sip of his coffee as he thinks. Claire means well, after all and if Chris has had luck with it, considering what Leon knows he’s seen and lived through, what does he have to lose, really?

“Fine. 30 days.”

“Great! Now, let’s set up your profile…”

--

Claire had given him a tutorial – swipe left if you’re not interested on a profile, right if you are. If the person swipes right in return, it’ll set you up as a match and you can start a conversation – signaled by a small speech bubble icon appearing on the bottom right.

It wasn’t until that evening that Leon tried it out properly, sat on his couch, killing time before bed and begins to swipe through. It feels a little odd – he usually likes to get to know a person somewhat before offering out his dinner invite, but this is mostly on looks alone, with a tiny snippet of profile information – age, location, what they’re looking for.

He swipes right on a blonde, her profile full of photos from beach vacations or something, says she’s not too far away from him and is ‘looking to connect with someone deeply.’ A chat box pops up immediately and after a moment or two, three dots show Beauty – he’s not sure that’s her real name - is typing.

Hey, big boy. What’s bigger – your forearms or… An eggplant emoji?

Oh.

He hesitates over writing back a response. He can flirt with the best of them, but how is anyone meant to make a genuine connection over this app? Maybe he’s too old for this shit.

He puts his cell down by his side and switches on the television instead.

--

“So…” Claire drawls over his shoulder over three weeks later, tracked him down to his desk.

“So…” He mocks back with a tease, swinging around in his office chair.

“Any good dates recently?”

He laughs. “How do you even get that far?”

“You’ve not gone on one?”

“Not for lack of trying.” It’s true. After Beauty, he had struck up conversation with a few more genuine girls that seemed to be going well until he’d broached the idea of a date and they’d drop off the radar. “A couple seemed interested but then stopped replying. I got one date – she didn’t show up.”

“Oh, come on.” Claire leans against his desk. “That can’t be everyone. Let me see.” There’s the expectant hand again. He sighs, picks up his phone and opens the app before handing it over to her.

She sets to scrolling through new arrivals for him, before she pauses. “Well, this one looks sweet.”

“Claire, I appreciate your concern but I just don’t think this app is for me. I gave it a go, I swear.”

“I know, but you’ve got a few days left on the free trial at least - you won’t lose anything. Just take a look?”

He takes the phone back and looks at the screen – a cropped picture of you, it looks like, your friends’ arms around your shoulders, a big, genuine smile on your face. Not a pout or a smolder in a night club mirror.

“Aw, you’re smiling.”

“Fine.” He swipes, but the message bubble doesn’t pop up. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this app – you never know if the other one will swipe back.

“No match.”

“Give her a moment,” Claire elbows him, playfully. “Not everyone is scrolling for dates at work.”

“Hey-”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting. See you!”

--

You throw yourself down on the bed, a little bit tipsy after an evening of drinking with your friends, and hold your phone dangerously above your face – you’ve been so close to giving yourself a black eye from the drop so many times but never learn – and open up that stupid app. Your friend had encouraged you to sign up to it after declaring you’d been in a pity party for long enough now after your last break-up and it was time to get back out there.

You scroll through the latest arrivals, swiping left as you go. Everyone internet dates now, you don’t know why you only seem to attract utter creeps on it. You’d been on a few dates, but they’d all been entirely awkward outside the safety of the chat box.

You pause on one new arrival, Leon, 41, the first photo in the set clearly a candid. He’s dressed in a suit – no tie. Businessman, you wonder? Amazingly hot and maybe the most shiniest hair you’ve ever seen.

You roll over onto your stomach and swipe right, smiling when a chat bubble appears.

--

Leon had just settled into bed for the night when his phone vibrated angrily on the bedside table. He threw a hand out, blindly, and looked at the screen, half expecting it to be an email from work or a message from Hunnigan.

It’s neither – a notification from the app.

Hi, Leon. Thanks for swiping. Can I ask something?

He frowns – a unique opener, but it could still go the way of the others, he reckons. He’s not a prude, per say, but he’s seen a lot more than he was intending to these past few weeks. He backs up and has a quick scroll through your profile, vaguely recognizing your face from when he’d swiped right earlier that day – the girl Claire had deemed sweet.

Hi – ask away.

A bubble appears with three dots within.

How do you get your hair that shiny?

Leon barks out a laugh - definitely refreshing.

I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet where I’m comfortable sharing my beauty secrets.

Please? Mine is so dull.

He clicks on your profile again and onto the photos but can’t see why you’re worried about your hair. Truthfully, all he registers when he looks at the picture is that sweet, genuine smile.

Looks pretty good from what I can see.

The camera adds all the shine. Are you using a filter?

Trust me when I say I wouldn’t know how.

Don’t know about filters but using a dating app? That doesn’t gel.

My friend suggested I give this online dating thing a go, so here I am.

Well, you’ll have to thank your friend for me.

Leon hesitates a moment, before shrugging it off.

I’ll be sure to, especially as it’s got me talking to you.

Your scalp tingles, but it seems nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier.

Too cheesy? I told you I’m new to this, right?

Nah, you’re gouda.

Leon grins.

--

The conversation continues to flow over the next few days. You talk about work – he keeps it vague, works in the government, can be called away on business trips last minute – and you are equally elusive in your response of office work. Internet safety, he reckons, smart girl that you are. Hearing his phone ping with a notification has quickly become his favourite sound.

Nice day? Definitely. Picked up my motorcycle – it’s been in the shop a while. Dare I ask what happened? He hesitates. Chasing a bioterrorist down a highway is perhaps a little too much…

Hit by a truck. I wasn’t on it - obviously.

Jeez. Insurance not just buy you a new one? I can’t think how that’s salvageable.

It’s my favourite, I couldn’t give up on her. You ever been on a motorcycle?

Uh-uh. Too scared.

What of?

Falling off, mainly.

No danger of that if you ride tandem - just need to be sure to hold on real tight.

You bite your lip, mulling over a response, but Leon fills the gap.

And I’d look after you, of course. Make a nice first date, don’t you think?

First date? That’s more, like, third or even fourth date material.

There’s your chance, Kennedy – don’t mess it up.

Well, then we better get the first date out of the way.

You bite your lip as you type back a response. Is that your way of asking?

If it is?

If it is, then I’m free Friday...

Perfect.

--

Friday morning arrives and Leon’s at his desk, typing up a report when his phone chimes. Checking over his shoulder, he pulls it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s a text from you. You’d exchanged numbers the other night, deciding it time to take communication off app ahead of meeting up.

Morning. Question?

Morning. Still after my shampoo secrets?

Yes… But not that. How am I meant to recognize you?

I thought that’d be easy – by how shiny my hair is, apparently.

It’ll be dark out, though.

Is this you trying to be subtle about asking for another photo?

No comment.

Leon locks his computer, the screensaver switching to today’s date and time on a black background. He swings his desk chair around, looks around again to make sure no-one’s on their way past, and opens the camera app. He flips the viewfinder around and tries out a couple of smiles before snapping a selfie – if Claire could see him now…

He sends it through.

Included the time and date and all. Happy?

No comment.

Well, how will I recognize you?

Easy. I’ll be the one coming up to you and saying, “Hi, Leon.” See you tonight x

Until then x

--

The two of you had decided to meet at a bistro – varied menu for all tastes, not too intimate, excellent wine, spirits and craft beer menu.

Leon is nervous as he stands to the side of the entrance – an emotion he hasn’t truly entertained since 1998. There had been no time for it when bioweapons and death were staring him down the face. But, tonight… Well, he’s out of his element on this one. Leon had only ever approached women through work and, yes, it was to varying degrees of success but they’d already seen him properly in person, heard his voice, aware of what he does. There was a horrible niggle at the back of his mind that the date who had stood him up a few weeks ago had caught sight of him and turned heel on the spot.

He looks down at this watch to see it’s bang on 7.30. He’d arrived ten minutes too early, but didn’t want to chance being late and showing up in a fluster. When he looks up, slipping a hand back into his pocket, a figure with a familiar face is walking towards him, greets him with an anxious smile and an awkward half-wave.

God, you’re adorable.

“Hi, Leon.” 

“Hi,” He smiles, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging down by his side. He wonders if he should’ve gone in for the kiss on the cheek, but he’s missed his chance.

“Erm…” You wring your hands together. “You okay?”

“Great. You?”

Why does he feel as giddy as he did when he picked up his girlfriend for prom back at high school?

“I’m good. It’s nice to put a… voice to a face?” You laugh – light and airy - and Leon’s already desperate to hear it again.

“It really is. Er, shall we?” He gestures forward with his arm.

You nod. “Let’s.”

The conversation is stagnant at first, a sentence here or there as you peruse the drinks menu and move on to ordering starters and entrees. With a little liquid courage, though, the two of you soon slip into easy conversation.

It’s just after the appetizers are cleared when Leon realizes he’s completely and utterly smitten.

You don’t even know where the time has gone, but all of the sudden the two of you are the only diners left and it’s clear the wait staff are looking for you to leave so they can begin their nightly clean down.

He follows you out and onto the sidewalk, a few metres away from the bistro entrance, standing awkwardly opposite each other – mirroring the beginning of the evening.

“So, fancy a ride?”

You tilt your head at him curiously before you burst out into laughter and he grins, rubbing the back of his head, awkwardly, as he realizes the context.

“I mean, I brought my bike here. I can give you a ride home - on my bike.”

You smile. “Not on the first date, remember?”

“Of course.” He nods. “Sticking to your principles – I respect that. Well, can I call you a cab?”

“Oh, actually, I’m gonna walk. I live just in that building over there…” You point up to an apartment building about halfway up the next block.

“I could walk you across the street?” He cringes as he realizes maybe he’s coming on too heavy-handed. “I’m sorry, I promise I can take a hint-”

“No.” You cut across abruptly. “I mean, walking me home would be nice.”

You cross the road in silence, both wrapped up in your own thoughts. You wish you lived slightly further away so you’d have longer to work out what to say, how to end the night.

“So…” Leon begins the other side of the road, the entrance to your apartment block just ahead. He’s trying to keep calm and collected, but there’s just something about you that has made his heart race, his palms sweaty. Don’t fuck this up, Kennedy. “I had a really lovely evening.”

“Me too.” You smile back – and you mean it – but you can’t help but brace yourself. Is this the part where he says, yeah, he had a nice time, but he’d rather not do it again? It seems all too good to be true. He’s the same as he was on the phone, messages and photos.

“Great…” You take a deep breath at his pause, unconsciously clenching your fists, “..cos I was wondering how you felt about a second date?”

“You’re really desperate to get me on that motorcycle, huh?” You tease, instantly relaxing. “But, seriously, I’d like that, to see you again.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“That depends what you have in mind.” You stop, suddenly – the apartment foyer to your left. “This is me.”

“Well, we’ve done dinner, shall we work backwards and have lunch next?”

You take a step closer. “And then breakfast?”

“Fourth could be a midnight feast?” He steps forward too, misjudging the distance and something hard brushes against your stomach. Leon’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, wait, I…” He dips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of shampoo with a sheepish smile. “I meant to give you this at the end of dinner – my beauty secret.”

You yank him forward by his jacket collar and kiss him before you can even think properly about what you’re doing. You step up onto your tip toes to deepen the kiss, a hand bracing yourself against his chest for a moment before you mean to step back, maybe even apologise for pouncing on the man, but Leon’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, kissing you back incessantly before you both have to retreat for breath.

“Well, if I knew the shampoo would get that reaction I would’ve started the night off with it.” He murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta ask though - you’ll kiss on the first date, but not ride a motorcycle?”

You shrug, half-heartedly. “One’s more dangerous than the other.”

He kisses you once more, softly, ending with a teasing nibble on your lip.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” -- Masterlist . 1,000 followers event

[starmocha]

i'm on the run with you, my sweet love [Sylus/Reader ★ 3737 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Forever your ride or die. A/N: Happy New Year! I’ve had this story written since Christmas 2024, but I had decided to save it to ring in the new year instead. Kind of based on my favorite Sylus phone call: As You Wish. This is…very………vague…….something…… I’m here for the vibes mostly. :’) Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia 【 request to be added 】

When everything came to a pause, when the whole world had shifted and all eyes were on you, a bounty had been placed on your head and your name suddenly known to the whole universe.

He had whisked you away, his hand in yours, no questions asked.

Where you go, I’ll go with you, he had said, his hold firm, his vow unyielding.

It’s not safe with me. They’ll get you, too, you had warned, giving his hand a little squeeze, almost afraid that you would lose him as well.

Sounds exciting, sweetie.

He had smirked, his lips on yours, a promise that nothing would ever sever his bond with you.

Your arms wrapped around his waist, head pressed to his back, and the sound of his motorcycle raced down the dusty road to nowhere. A trail of dust was left behind, the heat of the sun bore down on you, and the unknown future awaited both of you in the distance.

On the way to the end of the world, you said goodbye to what you had once thought was home, all of the people who had ever loved you were gone.

Except him.

Are you crying?

…No…

Let me hold you. For me.

…Okay…just for you, though…

Thank you, sweetie.

In an unassuming shabby safehouse, one of many he owned around the world, you felt a moment of peace, as false as it may be.

He paced the living room, exhaustion etched on his features. He still hadn’t adjusted to this daytime schedule, and though not a word of complaint or discomfort ever left his lips, you knew he had been pushing himself to his limits to keep you safe.

Sylus, you called, worried, come rest.

He reassured you with a smile, a near perfect façade had it been anyone else he was trying to fool. You knew when he would put on a mask, and you didn’t like it—you were upset that he was lying to you for your sake.

I’m tired, you fibbed, Can we nap together?

Strange how you didn’t feel any qualms about lying for his sake instead. You supposed you were a hypocrite.

Very well. He seemed to concede. What a fussy kitten.

There was no malice in his words. There never were.

You guided his head to your lap, his body barely fitting on the small sofa, but it would do. You stroked his hair, seeing him surrendering to his exhaustion—surrendering to you, as well.

You hummed a song, something light and soothing. His soft snoring soon joined your melody, the two sounds bringing life to this long unoccupied house.

For a moment, this unassuming, shabby safehouse almost felt like a home.

It would be nice to make this place a true home with him, you thought. Some fresh flowers, a little sunlight, and maybe a picture or two could help with the illusion.

Such wishful thinking. You knew in a few days you would both need to leave. This was only temporary.

You needed to go farther—to the place where everything was new and you were nothing more than an unknown drifter seeking something permanent.

For now, though, you both rested. You let your song soothed him, just as his presence had given you hope.

You often wondered what permanent looked like. You also wondered if you and he had the same definition for the word. There were more idle times now than before, so you both humored one another with your own thoughts and whims.

A little cottage in the woods, you thought aloud as you and he lazed about on the couch. You could have a little vegetable garden, and maybe you could also learn how to make your own bread as well.

He could hunt, or perhaps, he could also put his fishing skills to use.

You might even raise chickens. Maybe some ducks, too.

Sweetie, you have it all planned out, he teased, pinching your cheek.

You swatted his hand away, but you couldn’t deny this. You had thought about this life. Thought about it often, in fact. You couldn’t help it. It seemed you had more time to let your mind wander.

Well, you weren’t alone. He also had his own thoughts, his own vision he wished to share.

A seaside house on a cliff, he suggested, adding, We could watch dolphins from the balcony. And have a gin fizz or two.

You laughed and shook your head. What, no tequila?

Tequila can be for breakfast, he added, matching your humor with the same tone and a playful smirk.

We could also have a hot tub on the deck, he added with a lecherous smirk on his handsome face. A nice soak as we watch the sun set over the horizon.

Yeah? Your heart beat faster, his lips looming near yours.

We could also stargaze together, he continued in that same easy tone. So teasingly close, his lips just barely ghosted against yours. He must be doing this on purpose, wanting to see you fluster and squirm because of him. What a scoundrel.

You have it all planned out, you echoed his earlier words back to him, his immediate response that nearly insufferable trademark smirk of his. You caved in first, eagerly taking his lips, wanting to quell the growing heat between the two of you.

He succumbed to your whims, his back suddenly against the couch cushions, your body on top of his. He answered your desperation with his own, all lucid thoughts leaving as you both submitted to your instincts, letting your desires guide you both to Heaven and Hell and back again.

An apartment in the city.

In the city? Again, sweetie?

What better place than hidden in plain sight?

A clever kitten.

You remembered wining and dining under starry skies. The rich food filled your belly wonderfully and the aged wine tasted like the sacred nectar of the gods. Blissfully tipsy, you remembered dancing with him on a rooftop, swaying and twirling, feeling like you were on cloud nine as the stars above shined brilliantly while city lights twinkled and gleamed.

In a humid, cramped bus, you leaned against his shoulder, remembering distant memories that might as well just be silly old fairy tales.

The days blended together. Most days, you weren’t sure if it was Monday or Tuesday, or perhaps it was neither, and it was actually Thursday.

He had acquired a car. Temporary, just like everything else in your life had been these past few months. As he filled the car with gas, you wandered into the convenience store. That particular scent hit you instantly, a strange feeling of nostalgia for something you had never missed.

You wandered down the aisles, hand skimming over the different snacks on display. None of them really caught your eyes or stirred up a craving, but you still picked out a few just in case. As you were checking out, you also grabbed an ice cream bar. The heat was unbearable and a strawberry shortcake bar suddenly sounded enticing. You missed the taste of fresh fruits, something that you never thought would one day be scarce and a sudden luxury.

As you left the store, ice cream bar unwrapped and the refreshing, cooling sweet taste on your tongue, you remembered the time when you and he went to pick strawberries together.

He had already finished refilling the gas tank. As he leaned against the car waiting for you, sunglasses over his eyes, you approached him, holding the cold treat up.

Want a bite?

He smirked, and took a generous bite to your dismay.

H-hey! That was a big bite!

Sorry, sweetie. He didn’t sound apologetic at all. What a prick.

I hope you get brain freeze.

And he laughed, already getting back into the car with you following suit. When you turned to buckle your seatbelt, his hand was on your cheek, already guiding you to his lips. He kissed you sweetly, nibbling on your lips as he tasted you.

When he parted, he smirked at your confusion, your breathing still shaky.

You had ice cream on your lips, he answered matter-of-factly.

Flustered, it took your brain a few seconds too long to register his mischievous words. When it finally clicked, you leaned back over, this time surprising him as you took charge. You kissed as if it was your last, as if he was the air that you needed, and he responded with equal fervor, treating you like a gift bestowed upon him by the highest being, or perhaps more like a forbidden treasure he had greedily coveted. Before the growing lust could cloud your mind, all semblance of reality returned when you heard the incessant honking from the car behind you, and had he been in a sour mood, perhaps there would have been an altercation, one that would end horrendously for the other party, of course.

But he smirked. He leered at the car behind him before speeding off. As he drove, you noticed him licking his lips.

Strawberry, he said, pondering, We should get this ice cream bar again.

You agreed, delighting in the taste of him that still lingered on your lips.

All thoughts disappeared, all of those dirty matrasses from dingy motel rooms didn’t seem to matter. You would always welcome him into you, the late, long nights of lovemaking a sweet escape from the reality you lived. In these little moments of you and him, he was your whole world and you were his. Deep kisses branded your skin, the heated moans of you and him mingled with every movement, every pulse, the need to chase after that paradise heightened by the shared growing passion.

You had memorized his every feature, his every being. The jewel-like crimson eyes of his always reflecting his deep devotion to you, the promise to always surrender to you had long been fulfilled. With every searing hot touch, he worshiped you like a devout man knelt at the altar of a goddess, beseeching her blessings.

He satisfied all of your needs, your desires his to fulfill, willingly and devotedly. No rules to bind you, nothing more to lose, you succumbed to your desires, drifting off to a state of pure euphoria only he could bring you to, just as you were all that he longed for, the only one who he would let rule his heart and bring him to his knees.

When you returned from your high, with the threat of dawn looming, he held you close, gentle fingers threading through your hair soothingly, his warm, deep voice feeling like home.

He lulled you with words of a distant future.

Maybe…we can get a dog.

You laughed. You don’t seem like a dog person, you reminded him, your finger poking his cheek in jest.

He smiled, and grabbed your wrist. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, the simple act had you stilling with pretty rosy cheeks, illuminated in the dark by a single ray of moonlight.

A cat then, he said, his voice teasing. He stroked your cheek, his fingers just barely skimming against your skin. Maybe two, so she wouldn’t be lonely.

Yeah? you asked, breathless, What else?

He hummed as he contemplated. White picket fences…Have coffee ready for you in the morning…red checkered blanket and a picnic under the sun…

It doesn’t sound like you… you quipped.

It could be me, he responded, his hand moving to tuck strands of hair behind your ear, his soft voice continuing, It could be us. And also—

His words stopped abruptly, sparking your curiosity. You questioned him, but he only answered with an ambiguous smile and a dismissive, amused shake of his head, as if what he was thinking was nothing of importance to dwell further.

It’s late, he whispered, kissing your forehead, Sleep, my beloved.

As you settled more comfortably into his embrace, you felt his hand resting over your lower abdomen, the touch unlike any other time he would embrace you. As your heavy eyelids closed, you realized the words he had withheld, the hopeful future even he seemed too scared to voice into existence.

In your dream, you could have sworn you heard the pitter-patters of small feet on hardwood floor, and his voice full of joy as he effortlessly swept up into his strong arms two little children, a boy and a girl, perfect blends of you and him.

Such a shame that it was only a dream, you thought the morning after in bed as you watched him shaved the five o’ clock shadow from his face in the dirty motel bathroom.

In the mirror reflection, he noticed you sitting up in bed, the cover barely covering your nude body, hair in disarray, and he smiled. You smiled back.

Such a shame indeed, you thought again, feeling a strange ache in your chest as your mind drifted back to the little boy and girl in your dream.

It was amazing how you still had an appetite.

Eggs and bacon seemed extra delicious at diners in the middle of nowhere. As if stuck in time, it looked nothing like the modern eateries you were familiar with. Black and white checkered flooring, large red booths, an old barely working jukebox in a corner—everything seemed like it was untouched by modern advancements, living peacefully in its own world of idle monotony.

As you finished your meal, he stood up, walking over to the ancient jukebox out of curiosity.

He perused the song choices, brows furrowed in contemplation before he settled on one:

In the still of the night / I held you / Held you tight.

Your head lifted at the smooth crooning, eyes meeting his just as he walked back to the booth, his hand extended to you. Silently, a little embarrassed, you took his hand, just like you always seemed to do.

Promise I’ll never / Let you go.

He twirled you around before his hand found your waist, steadying you as he moved you to the rhythm of the music. In the near empty diner, you danced with him, remembering a time long ago, you two had also waltzed just like this.

To keep your precious love.

Your head rested against his chest, his arms around you as he swayed you gently to the music as it faded to silence. Even long after the song had ended, you stayed in his arms, holding firmly onto the one constancy you still held from your past.

Things could get worse.

I’ll be there every step of the way.

An old television set, from decades ago, flashed for an instance a photo of you. Without words, he had dropped a generous amount of bills on the table, his hand already reaching for yours and taking you away before anyone could be wiser.

By the time the waitress had come to clear the table, her tired mind suddenly realizing as she looked from the television back to the empty booth, the young couple had already left town. Discreetly, she tucked away the extra bills into her bra, and resumed her monotonous day, blissfully ignorant and a few hundred dollars richer.

In an old convertible from long ago, driving down an endless, deserted road, you woke up in the passenger seat to his—peculiar—singing alongside the car radio:

No matter what you are / I will always be with you / Doesn’t matter what you do, girl.

You giggled and he turned to look at you momentarily before his eyes redirected to the long road ahead. The radio continued to play the song as you and he conversed:

You’re actually laughing at me, he quipped. You’re so cruel, sweetie.

With you, you corrected him cheekily.

Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was laughing.

You were, you insisted audaciously.

In that case, laugh with me then, sweetie.

You giggled again. I don’t know this song.

His eyes remained ahead, but his right hand reached over to rest on your thigh. He squeezed you gently in reassurance, and as the song neared the end, he sang along again, Ooh girl, you girl, want you.

The radio played the next song, but you settled in your seat, his hand still resting on your thigh and you hummed again the previous song before the gentle drive lulled you back to sleep again. As your consciousness faded away, you heard distantly his voice singing the current song:

So sleep, silent angel, go to sleep / Sometimes / All I need is the air that I breathe / And to love you.

The time that passed made the line between reality and dream blurred. The life you lived, running away with him felt more dreamlike with each passing day as you bounced from old motels to grand estates to the most discreet safehouses he owned. Nothing in either of your life felt permanent right now, except for each other, the only constancy in this reckless fleeing.

You had both discarded your names, only taking them back at night when you were both truly alone, feeling like two lost souls abandoned by the universe. In the dark, you moaned each other’s name, such lovely sounds as warm breath ghosted over slicked skin.

Your hands lightly touched his face, his eyes always locked with yours. Your shuddering gasps and his barely-restrained moans followed in suits as his hands gripped tighter your hips, guiding you up and down on his length. You kissed him, crying as he pierced you again and again, his movements rushing as he felt you nearing your release.

…I can’t…I need to…Sy…please…please…

Hngh…ye-yes…

He was panting, his eyes darkened by the heavy arousal of seeing you, his beloved, falling apart for him—because of him. You arched forward into him, his name spilling out from your lips and pleasure coursed through your entire being. With a few more rushed thrusts, his own release came, his deep groans resonated in your ears as he filled you full.

Collapsed on him, you both rested lazily together with his softened member still inside you and his seed dripping obscenely down your thighs. You hummed into his skin, boneless and satisfied, his warmth so familiar and addicting.

Just two nobody’s in the world, but in this moment, it felt like no one else existed and you were both truly the last of your kind.

How heavenly.

Away, away, you ran from town to town, the final destination only a vague dream. The further you ran, the lighter your heart felt. In his eyes, the bird that was caged was now soaring high. His only wish was to save her before her wings were clipped, and now he would follow her wherever she would take him, her song beckoning him to a paradise for two.

Don’t let go.

Sweetie, you’re stuck with me for life.

Higher and higher, you soared, the sun threatening to scorch your wings.

If you fall, you knew he would be there to catch you. So, you continued to fly, your hand outstretched. All of Heaven would be yours to command. You were going to unlock paradise, a place for two kindred spirits, the last of their kinds, forevermore tethered to one another.

Eventually, the dream came to an end, life catching up within a flash.

You had grown a little careless, believing that you were just a nobody drifting through life, forgetting that there was still a hefty bounty to your name.

Someone had seen your face. Someone had snitched. You wondered if they truly believed you were dangerous, or perhaps it was merely just human greed that drove them to expose you. You supposed it didn’t really matter in the end now. It was all over anyway.

You looked to him, and he to you. A silent exchange of words, an understanding reached.

The distant sirens grew louder and louder as they approached your final hideout.

There was banging outside the motel room, scattered voices calling for your surrender. There would be no negotiation. It wouldn’t matter if they dragged your dead body out instead. On command, a red laser dot maneuvered into the room from the open window, aligning to your head. Your heart was racing, but you stayed grounded, your eyes locked on his.

In just seconds, everything was about to change.

Five.

Four.

Do you trust me? he asked, his hand held out.

With my life, you answered automatically, your hand in his, and with a tug, you were pulled into his familiar warmth, safe and secured as a gunshot sounded and the glass window shattered. His large hand pressed your head gently to his chest, shielding you from the sounds, and just like that, you both left this world behind, disappearing into the swirls of red and black mist he had summoned before the motel door came crashing down.

One.

The end.

Somewhere, in another place, in another time, you woke up to clear blue skies, white picket fences, the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen, and you heard his laughter mingling with the sweet giggles of two little children.

You hummed pleasantly into your pillow, the sounds of footsteps getting louder and louder until the bedroom door opened. The bed shifted, his heavy weight on you, and your children’s assaulting kisses stealing away your breath and laughter.

Joyful tears brimmed your eyes, your belly aching tremendously from helpless laughter, and your heart at peace as he gazed down at you, his love steadfast and true.

It was almost nine in the morning, but you stayed lounging in bed, surrounded by all that mattered to you. Your children snuggled close to you on either side, your one free hand reached out for his, his hold ever familiar and constant.

His smile mirrored yours, the same devotion in his eyes just like long ago when he took this same hand and whisked you away, running and running until you found your home again at the end of the world.

His thumb caressed yours, his honeyed voice a sweet lullaby. I love you.

And you smiled back. I love you more.

He laughed, surrendering once more to you, always for you.

The past seemed distant, the future too far away. Cradled in the present, in this instance, the world seemed at peace again, and life moved on.

[oakdwn]

the most awful thing about thoschei is that they love each other.

they were childhood best friends. one of them murdered for the other and changed the trajectory of their lives forever. they grew up to hate each other, they’ve spend hundreds of years fighting and exchanged an amount of “please, join me” and “over my dead bodies” that’s honestly a little embarrassing. they hate each other so much (“how could you kill?” “how could you cure?”) but there’s no one else who knows them as well as the other. it is familiarity at first. i know you, and i will keep knowing you, and maybe hating you is comforting enough. the time war happens. if they didn’t understand others, they certainly don’t now, last of the time lords as far as they’re aware. if that wasn’t enough, one of them finds out the other is this deity so far out of their worldview (“above” them) and shatters.

and THAT. that’s what hurts. because if they were rivals, it would just be unfortunate. you are stuck with the person you hate the most, but you find other things to do, and they show up sometimes, and it’s fine, you leave them to their own devices. there’s a whole universe to see, after all. it’s possible to keep your distance. you don’t have it in you to care.

except you do care. you love them. you’ve loved them through every regeneration that it might as well be written into your artron energy. you need to be as close to them as the universe allows, so you plan to kill them as an excuse to see their face. and it is an excuse. if you really wanted them gone, you could have killed them off by now. for all your elaborate, stupid at times, schemes and silly costumes you are remarkably clever, and if you’re being honest with yourself, the costumes are just a way to get their attention. because you love them. even when you don’t want to. you like it when they look. you burn cities so they’ll turn their head.

sometimes you find yourself on the other side of the equation, and you love them. you love them so much it kills you over and over because you keep giving them a chance. you keep begging them to run away with you, and they won’t, and they never will, and you carry hope anyway. it kills you and kills you because you love them when you shouldn’t. you see it in every companion’s face. your empathy for them has gone past your usual savior complex into something raw, something ugly, something you keep hidden away between your two hearts except for when they’re in front of you and it comes pouring out. you love them. you wish they made it easier.

[heliosunny]

If that okay, can I please get yandere The Herta x reader x Ruan Mein (poly headcanon)

I have a whole plot for a fic. Maybe i'll give some headcanons in the near future.

Yandere!The Herta x Reader x Yandere!Ruan Mei

Herta has found a way to stop time around a living person, keeping them in a state of eternal beauty. Ruan Mei, on the other hand, has found a way to slow biological processes to an unnatural degree. The problem? You are the test subject.

The sterile chill of Herta Space Station was an ever-present reminder of the artificial world you had become trapped in. A cold, lifeless place where the pursuit of knowledge outweighed the warmth of human connection.

And yet, despite the vastness of the station, you felt suffocated.

Two pairs of eyes—one sharp and calculating, the other deceptively soft—never left you.

Herta sat at the edge of a console, swinging her legs lazily as she gazed at you. Boredom, as she often claimed, was the only reason she paid attention to you.

Across the room, Ruan Mei hummed softly as she adjusted a set of data on her floating screen. Unlike Herta, her smile was warm, almost gentle, but the way she looked at you like you were a rare, fragile specimen—sent a shiver down your spine.

You were their test subject and you had no way out.

“You should be honored” Herta said matter-of-factly, hopping down from the console. Her boots made no sound against the pristine floor as she approached you. “I don’t usually care about humans, but you… you are an exception.”

Your breath hitched as she reached out, cool fingers tracing the side of your face with a detached curiosity. “Such a fragile existence” she mused. “But don’t worry. I’ll preserve you. You won’t have to wither away like the others.”

From behind, you felt Ruan Mei’s presence before she even spoke. A gentle hand slid over your shoulder, pulling you into an almost comforting embrace. “Herta’s methods are too harsh, don’t you think?” Ruan Mei whispered near your ear, her voice honeyed, but laced with something darker. “Freezing you like one of her dolls? That’s too cruel… I would never treat you so coldly.”

“You’re lying” you said, barely above a whisper.

Ruan Mei laughed softly, fingers stroking your hair as if you were a cherished pet. “Oh, I would never lie to you.” She tilted her head. “I simply want to preserve you properly. A slow, careful process… where you remain alive, untouched by time. Isn’t that better?”

Herta sighed dramatically. “You’re going to ruin my fun, Ruan Mei.” She leaned against a terminal, arms crossed. “If I freeze them now, they’ll be perfectly unchanging. They’ll be mine forever.”

“But they won’t be able to feel, Herta” Ruan Mei countered, her fingers tightening ever so slightly in your hair. “What’s the point of preserving something if it loses its warmth?” She turned her gaze back to you, her smile deepening. “You don’t want that, do you?”

You swallowed hard. Both options were cages, just in different forms.

Herta tapped her chin. “Fine. I’ll let them keep their warmth…” Her lips curled into a smirk. “But only if they stay still.”

You didn’t get the chance to react before a chilling sensation crawled up your legs. Your muscles stiffened, a numbing cold locking your limbs in place. Panic surged through you as you tried to move, but your body refused to respond.

Ruan Mei tsked, kneeling beside you. “Herta, that’s cheating.” She ran her fingers over your frozen arm, sighing. “You always want to break your toys too quickly.”

“They’ll still be aware” Herta said, shrugging. “I’m not completely heartless.”

You gasped as warmth slowly returned to your fingers which is Ruan Mei’s doing. Her methods were different. Instead of outright freezing you, she manipulated your biology, altering the very essence of your body to prolong its state.

Neither option was mercy.

“You’ll belong to one of us in the end” Ruan Mei whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “So be good and choose wisely, dear.”

Your heart pounded as both women loomed over you.

You had to leave.

Your hands trembled as you slowly sat up on the research table, muscles aching from the forced stillness. Across the room, Herta and Ruan Mei were distracted- arguing, again.

“Y/n keeps resisting” Ruan Mei sighed, running a hand through her long hair. “If you keep pushing too hard, she’ll break.”

Herta, as always, looked unimpressed. “They should be grateful. I’m offering them something no other human could achieve—perfection.” She turned, glancing at you. “And yet, they keep struggling. Honestly, it’s annoying.”

This was your chance.

You exhaled softly before moving. With quiet steps, you pushed off the table, heading toward the exit. You had no plan, only instinct.

Just a little further...

“Ah-ah.”

A sudden weight pulled at your wrist, stopping you mid-step. Ruan Mei’s fingers curled gently around you, deceptively soft, like silk tightening into steel.

She sighed, her voice laced with amusement. “Where do you think you’re going, dear?”

You didn’t answer. You rarely did. Words were wasted on them. Instead, you yanked your arm back, hard.

For a split second, Ruan Mei’s eyes widened, surprised by your defiance. You twisted, shoving against her, forcing her grip to loosen. It worked—barely. You broke free, stumbling backward.

Herta tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh? Finally showing some fight?”

You ignored her, making a break for the door. Just a few more steps. Just a little... Something cold is approaching

Not the air, not fear, but Herta’s power. It wrapped around your body like invisible chains, locking your movements in place.

You clenched your teeth, muscles burning as you fought against it. Move. Move. MOVE.

Herta sighed. “Tsk. You’re being difficult.” She flicked her fingers, tightening the hold. “Why do you keep running? There’s no escape.”

Your breathing was uneven, but you still managed a glare.

Ruan Mei chuckled, stepping closer. “You’re so stubborn.” She brushed her fingers along your jaw, tilting your face toward her. “But I know, deep down, you care for us. That’s why you won’t say it outright… You don’t want to hurt our feelings, right?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line.

She wasn’t completely wrong.

Despite everything, despite the cage they forced you into—some part of you still cared. It made it harder to fight, harder to hurt them. And they knew that.

Herta sighed, lowering her hand. The freezing hold on your body vanished, sending you collapsing to your knees.

“You’re interesting” she muttered. “Annoying, but interesting.”

The cold grip of Herta’s power had left, but the phantom sensation still clung to your limbs like frostbite. Your body ached from the strain, yet you refused to show it.

Ruan Mei’s fingers remained against your cheek, her touch deceptively warm. “You’re so tense” she murmured, tilting her head. “Are you afraid of us?”

There was no point in answering. They'll do as they pleased anyway.

Your silence made Ruan Mei smile, as if she found your resistance adorable. “Oh, dear, we’re not your enemies” she crooned. “You’re just confused.”

Herta scoffed from behind. “They’re not confused. They just don’t appreciate what we’re doing for them.”

Your fingers twitched against the cold floor.

What you’re doing for me?

Your lips parted slightly, but no words escaped. You weren’t one for talking, and even if you were, what could you possibly say that would change their minds?

So, instead, you acted. Your body surged forward. Not toward Herta or Ruan Mei, but toward the small, sharp scalpel lying on the nearby counter.

Ruan Mei gasped, momentarily caught off guard by your sudden movement. Herta’s eyes flickered with intrigue, her hand rising just a fraction.

You snatched the scalpel in a tight grip, pivoting swiftly.

Ruan Mei’s expression faltered for the first time. “You wouldn’t.”

You would.

The small blade pressed lightly against your own neck—just enough to break the skin. A thin line of warmth dripped down your collarbone.

If they wouldn’t let you go… then you would take the one thing they refused to control. Your own life.

For the first time, true panic flashed in Ruan Mei’s eyes. “No—! Stop, dear, please.”

Herta’s entire body stiffened. “You’re being unreasonable” she muttered, but there was something off in her voice. Frustration? Fear?

Your grip on the scalpel remained firm. You weren’t bluffing.

For the first time, they had lost control.

The realization made your heart pound—not from fear, but from hope.

“I—” Ruan Mei swallowed hard, taking a step closer. “Put it down, sweetheart. Please.” Her voice, usually laced with amusement, now trembled. “We just want to protect you. You matter to us.”

You didn’t react. You just pressed the blade slightly deeper.

A small sound escaped Ruan Mei. “No, no, no—” She reached for you, panic overriding her usual grace. “Let me help, love—”

That moment of desperation—that single second of hesitation—was all you needed. With your free hand, you snatched the vial from the counter beside you, a small, forgotten bottle of one of Ruan Mei’s biological solutions. You didn’t know what it did. You didn’t care. With a swift motion, you threw it to the ground.

The glass shattered. A thick, burning chemical filled the air.

Ruan Mei gasped, stumbling back as the fumes stung her eyes. Herta hissed, raising an arm to shield her face. You ran.

Your legs screamed in protest, but you forced them forward, through the haze, through the pain—toward the exit.

Your chance. Your only chance.

But your body froze mid-step, a suffocating cold locking your limbs in place.

Herta’s voice was eerily calm. “You just had to make things difficult, didn’t you?”

Ruan Mei coughed behind her, her voice trembling. “Darling… why would you do that?” Her tone was no longer sweet. It was shaken. Frightened.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breath shallow. So close. You had been so, so close.

Tears pricked Ruan Mei’s eyes, but her lips curved into something unnerving. “You almost broke my heart...” she whispered, stepping forward.

Herta clicked her tongue. “We’ll have to restrain them better next time.”

Your vision blurred as the ice tightened around you, swallowing you whole.

You were no longer sure how much time had passed.

The constant experiments, the whispered reassurances, the subtle shifts in your body, it had all blurred into something… different. Your thoughts weren’t as sharp as before. Most important of all, you stopped trying to escape. Not because you didn’t want to. But because… the thought of leaving felt wrong.

You hated how your hands no longer trembled when Herta ran cold fingers through your hair. You hated how your body no longer flinched when Ruan Mei pressed a kiss against your temple, murmuring praises.

You hated that when they told you to sit still, you obeyed.

You hated that you couldn’t tell if it was by choice anymore.

The incident was insignificant.

Ruan Mei had been handling a delicate set of biological samples when a sudden alert blared through the lab, startling her just enough for a sharp glass vial to shatter against her palm.

A thin line of red trickled down her fingers.

You moved on instinct. Your hands reached for hers before you could stop them. Gently—almost tenderly, you turned her palm upward, examining the wound.

“…Oh?”

Ruan Mei blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

You didn’t speak. You rarely did. Instead, you reached for a nearby cloth, pressing it against the cut with practiced care. The warmth of her skin against yours was unsettlingly familiar.

She let you.

Herta, watching from the side, smirked. “How interesting.”

You didn’t react. You focused, wrapping Ruan Mei’s hand with slow, steady movements. Your fingers trembled slightly, but not from fear.

It was muscle memory.

The act of caring, of tending to wounds, it had always been a part of you. Even now, even after everything, that part remained.

Ruan Mei chuckled, breaking the silence. “My, my… you really are sweet, aren’t you?”

Your hands froze for a fraction of a second.

Then—warm fingers brushed against your cheek.

You flinched.

Ruan Mei’s smile deepened. “How adorable.”

Herta swung her legs over the console, tilting her head. “It seems all that time adjusting you has finally paid off.”

A chill ran down your spine.

Ruan Mei giggled, curling her now-bandaged fingers around your own. “You didn’t even think before tending to me, dear.” Her voice was honeyed.

Your heart pounded.

No...no, no, no.

This wasn’t right.

This wasn’t you.

But as Ruan Mei leaned in, her lips ghosting over your forehead, and as Herta smirked knowingly, you knew it was too late.

[airybcby]

*Pokes my head in through your window*

Good morning, I'm here for the 'More Than A Married Couple, But Not Lovers' event. I'll like to request 🍑+🧁 with Yukimiya Kenyu.

well good morning ! ( afternoon as this is posted )

a yukimiya kenyu peach cupcake :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° home is wherever you are

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — yukimiya kenyu x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends to lovers, their moms are also best friends, reader tries to deny their feelings for yukimiya

♡ synopsis — from the second you were born, your mother swore you were meant to marry her best friends son, yukimiya kenyu. maybe they'd accept just a fake marriage?

You and Yukimiya Kenyu had been attached at the hip for as long as you could remember.

Your mothers were best friends, bonded by years of shared secrets, inside jokes, and matching visions of the future. And somewhere along the way, that vision started to include you and Yukimiya—together.

“When they grow up, they’ll get married. Mark my words,” your mom would say with a wink.

Yukimiya’s mom always chimed in with a dreamy sigh, “They’re perfect for each other. Just look at them!”

You and Yukimiya? Perfect for each other? You’d laugh it off every time.

But no matter how much you tried to ignore their teasing, the words stuck.

The years passed, and the two of you became inseparable. From sharing homework to cheering him on at soccer matches, you were there for every high and low.

You knew everything about him—the way he hummed when he was deep in thought, how he needed his tea just right, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his dreams.

And he knew everything about you.

But no matter how close you were, there was always an unspoken rule between you: don’t cross the line.

When the marriage simulation program paired you together, you’d both burst out laughing.

“Of course it’s you,” Yukimiya said, shaking his head with a small smile.

“It’s like the universe is conspiring with our moms,” you joked, though your stomach flipped at the thought of living with him for weeks.

You didn’t expect much to change. After all, you’d been friends forever. This would be just like old times—right?

It wasn’t.

Living together was different.

For one, you started noticing things you hadn’t before. Like how he always smelled faintly of citrus, or how his hair looked when he stepped out of the shower, damp and a little messy.

And then there was the way he looked at you—so soft, so open, like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. This was just Yuki. He was thoughtful, sweet—he’d always been like this.

But the more time you spent together, the harder it became to convince yourself that your feelings were strictly platonic.

It all came to a head one evening.

You were sitting on the couch, flipping through the program’s assignments, when he spoke up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unusually tentative.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about what our moms used to say? About us getting married?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Uh, sometimes. Why?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I used to think it was ridiculous, you know? Like, they were just joking around. But…”

You waited, holding your breath.

“But now I’m starting to wonder if maybe they weren’t entirely wrong.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Yuki,” you said softly, your chest tightening.

He looked at you, his expression both nervous and hopeful. “I know this is probably the worst time to say this, but I—” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I like you. More than just as a friend. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”

Your heart felt like it was about to burst. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted. “But now… I can’t pretend anymore.”

You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his arms were around you, holding you close.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore either,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest.

The simulation ended a few days later, but your relationship didn’t.

For once, your moms were right.

And this time, you didn’t mind one bit.

i love yukimiya so much it's unhealthy

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[yesihaveaobsession]

A Bow- Tied Surprise

Alastor x female!reader

Summary: It's the holiday season and Alastor decides to surprise the reader (you) as a gift.

A/N- WOOHOO DECEMBER 1ST WE MADE ITTTT.. Hope y'all like this one, something short and sweet :D thanks for all the love and support!! xxx

It was the holiday season. Stockings hung from the big fireplace in the foyer of the hotel, and the scent of gingerbread and pine filled the air. Lights and other decorations covered the walls of the beloved hotel. Charlie had even insisted on playing Christmas music over the loudspeakers to really get into the holiday spirit, so every morning, that’s what you heard.

You stretched as you stepped out of your room, the faint sound of Christmas music reaching your ears. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you smiled to yourself, looking forward to a warm and cozy holiday with your closest friends.

As you entered the lobby, you stopped dead in your tracks. Standing in the center of the room was Alastor. His usual dapper appearance was slightly different today. A giant red bow was pinned to his chest, the ribbon tails trailing down over the lapels of his suit. He grinned from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something softer, while holding his microphone behind his back.

“Good morning, my dear!” he sang cheerfully, his voice as lively as ever. He spread his arms dramatically. “As you can see, your present has arrived early!”

Your jaw nearly hit the floor at the sight before you. What was happening? Charlie and Vaggie entered the lobby behind you with the same shocked expressions. All you could manage was a speechless, disbelieving laugh. He had to be joking, right? Right?

Wrong.

You quickly realized he was completely serious and stopped laughing. “Oh.”

Charlie recovered first, clapping her hands together in delight. “Alastor, this is adorable! But… why?”

“Why not? The holiday spirit calls for generosity and joy! And what better way to embody that than by gifting myself to someone so dear to my heart?” His head tilted and then turned to you, his crimson gaze locking with yours. “After all, you are my favorite.”

Favorite?

This was NOT your Alastor. Normally, he’d probably would've given you a head, a live beating heart, or maybe some jewelry if he was feeling particularly festive. But giving himself as a gift? Your face turned bright red, and you finally managed to close your mouth after what felt like forever. Still in shock, you asked, “Alastor… are your serious right now?”

“As serious as one can be this holiday season!” He stepped closer, his grin unwavering. “Do you like your gift, darling? I can’t be returned or exchanged, you know.” Was he… flirting with you?

Your cheeks burned, and you gave him a playful shove. That normally he wouldn't take but you were different. “You’re ridiculous!”

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he pointed out, clearly proud of himself.

Charlie leaned toward Vaggie and whispered, “Do you think they’ll ever admit they like each other?”

Vaggie crossed her arms with a smirk. “Not anytime soon. But this is fun to watch.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Well, Alastor, I don’t know how you do it, but you surprise me more every day. Thank you for not giving me a live beating heart.”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Just wait until your birthday, my dear.”

And judging by his tone, he was serious about that too.