#small price to pay if my darling's alright

[mandiemegatron]

ꜱʏʟᴜꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴅɪꜱᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴇꜱ.

(ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ) ꜱʏʟᴜꜱ x ᴄɪꜱꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ; 18+, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ. ᴍᴅɴɪ.

⒜/⒩ ; ᴹʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴰᵉᵉᵖ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ᶠⁱᶜ 🤭 ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃ ˡⁱˡ ᵗᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᶜ ⁱᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗʳʸⁿᵃ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉ ˢʸˡᵘˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ᵃˢ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈ 🤭💖

ᵗᵃᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ @laidenbreecatchall , ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵇᵗ ˢʸˡᵘˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵈᵒʷⁿᶠᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ 💖🥰

You lean back in your salon chair, a wide grin on your lips as your nail artist cracks another joke, pulling laughter from you right as your phone begins ringing.

Glancing down at your phone, your cheeks burn slightly as seeing Sylus' name and picture pop up. You give your artist a small knowing look, who returns it with a grin and waves her hand for you to answer. She continues working on your left hand as your right picks up your phone, accepting the call with a cheeky,

"Well, hi stranger."

There's the rumbling chuckle from the other line as Sylus rolls his eyes to himself before he replies,

"You haven't answered any of my texts today. We in a mood today, sweetie?"

Your cheeks burn darker at his words and you huff, rolling your own eyes unbeknownst to him as you comment back,

"I've been busy. Are you alright? You usually only call if its-"

"Important. Yes, I'm aware."

You wait a beat before asking again,

"... well? What's up?"

There's a deep sigh from Sylus as he laments, "I thought we had plans today, sweetie," He stares down at his nail beds, turning his hand this way and that as he adds, "and yet... You're not here."

You narrow your eyes for a moment before pulling your phone away, watching the screen flash up with the time reading 2:47pm. You quickly pull your phone back to your ear with a confused comment of,

"We have dinner plans. It's not even three yet..."

Another sigh leaves Sylus, causing you to pull your phone away for a second as you shoot your nail artist a playfully fed up look before snarking into the phone,

"I'm at the nail salon."

Sylus goes quiet before he asks in a slightly firm tone, "and just who is paying for that, miss broke girl?"

You give a fake gasp before laughing in a joking reply,

"My sugar daddy, obviously, since someone doesn't want to treat me."

There's a long silence from Sylus at your words. Your heart sinks as the pause continues for far too long and you're quick to add,

"I'm just joking, I put money aside to treat myself. I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

There's a ding from your phone and you pull it away to see the notification.

You almost drop your phone as you see in bright letters - 𝙎𝙔𝙇𝙐𝙎 ♡ 𝙎𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐 5000.

"....are you fucking kidding me?"

There's a sly chuckle from your ruby eyed lover as he purrs back,

"Do I ever make jokes, kitten?"

Still unable to wrap your head around the amount of funds Sylus had just sent, you took a steadying breath before genuinely gushing to him,

"Thank you, Sylus."

There's a stunned pause from him. He leans back in his couch, hand over his face before he murmurs back,

"You're very welcome. You can always come to me for anything, no matter how small."

You go to retort but he cuts you off with a stern tone, "Time to put that stubborn ego of yours to bed, darling."

You can't help but think to yourself, 'a small price to pay for falling in love with a literal criminal. Worth it.'

"I will. I'm sorry."

There's a confused hum from Sylus as he questions,

"What's there to be sorry for? If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask."

There's a shuffling from his side before he adds,

"Choose a different colour. The one you chose is ugly."

You pout before looking out the giant windows off to the side, only to huff to yourself as you see Mephisto sitting in a branch, watching with a tilted head. His beak opens but you can't hear his screech, thankfully.

"... you knew I was here and still decided to bully me?" You pouted, whining slightly as you move your phone to your left hand, giving your artist your now free right hand. You tuck your phone against your ear with your shoulder before you flash your medium length stiletto nails towards the window, as if pretending to stretch your wrist before you ask,

"... do you like the shape, at least?"

Sylus hums for a moment before he grins into the phone, "They could be longer. Little kitten wanted some claws, hm?"

Your cheeks burned bright red, pulling a snort from your artist as you grumbled nonsense into the receiver, holding the phone in your grasp again.

"There's a red on the wall, first row, half way across. Between that ugly green and purple." Your eyes wander the wall of gel polish and nearly immediately spot the red he's talking about. "I want you to wear that one."

The same colour as his eyes.

You grin to yourself before teasing him,

"You just love to see me in your colours, don't you?"

There's a chuckle from him as you pull the phone away from your mouth to murmur your new colour choice to your artist. She raises an eyebrow and shrugs, getting up to reach the deep red gel polish and sliding the colour you originally chose into that empty spot.

"... I do. Is it so wrong of me to want what's mine to wear what I ask?"

Your heart nearly bursts out of your chest at his words.

"N-no, it's not..."

He grins wickedly, catching you in his trap as he teases with a purr,

"So you admit it then? You're mine."

You bite the corner of your bottom lip, trying to ignore your racing heart as you reply softly,

"I ah, um..."

"Say it."

You purse your lips into a tight line before sighing, relating to his demands as you comment as if brushing him off,

"Yeah, yeah, I'm your super hot girlfriend, whatever..."

You take a long drink from your water bottle before putting it back on the table as you ask,

"Satisfied?"

There's a soft groan from Sylus, too close to a moan for your heart to handle and you immediately feel your core twitch.

"I will be, once you're here and under me, those painted nails wrapped around my c-"

You choke on a breath, fumbling your phone for a moment before you snap in a high voice,

"Sylus! Behave yourself!"

There's a deep laugh from him, genuine and warm before he sighs jokingly. "Alright sweetie, if that's want you want..."

You groan to yourself before he adds darkly, all joking gone from him,

"Remember, that changes the second you walk into this house. You forget who's in charge, kitten."

You swallow heavily before murmuring,

"Yes Sir."

There's another low groan from Sylus again at your words and he's quick to demand you,

"Be here sooner rather than later. Don't keep me waiting, sweetie."

He hangs up before you can even gather his words, shaking your head slightly as you put your phone back down.

You look back up at your artist and you almost choke at the bright reds that adorn her face.

".... you heard all that?"

She gives a small nod, finishing off shaping your pinky before finally moving onto the gel polish.

"You sound like a lucky girl," she gushes almost sadly, a wistful sigh leaving her as she looks back up at you.

You give a slight shrug before murmuring, "I suppose ..."

You glanced over to the window again and hum to yourself as you noticed Mephisto was gone. 'Probably off to preen,' you think to yourself as you stick your hand under the UV light, curing the first layer of paint.

The second your nails were complete, you paid and left a hefty tip, promising to be back which the girl immediately booked you in for. Leaving the salon with a little pep in your step, you quickly made your way towards the N109 zone where Sylus' 'mansion' resided.

As you finally came through the front doors, Luke and Keiran whooped and whistled, taking in your dolled up appearance with approving cheers.

"Lookin' fine tonight, miss Y/N!"

"You look like a whole ass meal, miss Y/N!"

You rolled your eyes, unable to fight back the blush that over took your cheeks as you waved them off. "Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on..."

Wearing a short, black dress with a waved skirt, black designer patterned tights and red bottomed heels, you gave the two boys a little twirl before tucking stray strands of your hair behind an ear as you asked, "You promise I look okay?"

The two masked boys nodded enthusiastically and agreed, "Hell yeah, absolutely!"

Giving them a nod, you placed your bag on the long dining table before making your way to Sylus' office, connected to his bedroom.

You gave a quick knock before entering, not waiting for him to say anything as you always did. He sat on the couch, faced away from the door with a book in his hands.

"... You're late."

You stop just behind the couch, your hands twisting in front of you slightly as an anxious pirckle crawled up your back.

"I thought I was right on time," you murmured, looking to the side to take in his massive wall clock, frowning to yourself in confusion at seeing the time was 10 minutes ahead.

You went to speak up when Sylus suddenly stood, rubbing at his face with a tired hand before finally turning to you.

"If I say you're late, kitten, you're late. There's no room for -"

His words stop abruptly, his brows furrowing as he takes in your attire. You move your weight from foot to foot for a second, wishing you could shrunk yourself under his darkening gaze. "W-what...?" You cautiously asked, fiddling with the folded fabric of your short skirt.

He takes the few steps to you slowly, like a predator playing with it's prey before he finally bites out,

"I did not buy that for you."

You immediately think he hates it, your stomach sinking into the ground as you think about the wasted hours and money you spent on trying to look good for him.

"I-I bought it-" Your breath catches in your throat as he stands in front of you, one of his large hands splaying over your side and pulling your body against his. "D-do you not like it...?"

Sylus' irritated look simmers slightly as his hand roams the expanse of your side and back, his fingers playing with the long zipper resting on your spine. He leans his head down to murmur in your ear, "You have awful taste."

In a flash, he rips the zipper down and pulls the dress with a tug so it ends up on the floor, pooled around your heeled feet. Your frown deepens as he takes in the lacy bra and panty set you wore underneath, a sly grin taking over his sour expression as his eyes trace over every inch of you.

"This.... this I like."

Both his hands grip your waist, making you step out of the dress before pulling your form back to his own. Your hands meet his chest and you can feel the poke of his growing erection, fueling the tingling warmth that settled in your core. As his hands roam your skin, his thumbs trace over the lace on your breasts, taking in the intricate designs through the lace and suddenly he stops, his left thumb dancing over a certain pattern right over your nipple.

"... you got this on purpose, didn't you?"

His voice is playfully soft as he murmurs down at you, his eyes still glued to your breasts. "Crows, sweetie? You flatter me."

Your face and shoulders bloom in reds and your hands delicately brush over the soft shirt hiding his skin from you. Giving the shirt a slight tug, he leans down a little more with a chuckle before his lips meet yours, the fire inside you overflowing with want as your hearts raced in sync.

One hand moved to the back of his head, long nails ghosting over the base of his neck and through his short hair, pulling a rumbled groan from his chest that reverberated against your own. He pulls away momentarily to nearly purr in your ear,

"I was going to chastise you for showing up for our date in clothing I didn't get you, but I think I like the little surprise I unwrapped much more..." The genuine tone flowing from his words crawl over your skin like a hot breeze, causing your wide, doe eyes to stare up at him, the words you've been aching to say for weeks dancing on your tongue.

Sylus' gaze matches yours as he pulls away just enough to look down at you. His forehead rests against you, eyes locked for a moment before he pulls away to press a kiss to your forehead. "Sweet kitten," he gushes lightly as his hands keep your chest to his, lithe fingers tracing over your back and teasing over the clasp of your bra.

"Tell me what you want."

His demand meets your ears and your eyes fall shut, your heart screaming to burst out of your chest as you nearly beg him,

"I want you."

Sylus pulls away again, making you face to face as he demands again,

"Say it again."

You muster every ounce of adoration for this man into your gaze as your other hand moves from his chest to hold his face, your thumb just brushing over his bottom lip as you honestly reply,

"... I want you. Only you."

The corner of Sylus' mouth ticks up, as if trying to fight a smile before he murmurs in reply,

"You have me."

He presses a quick kiss to your lips as one of his hands moves from your breast to grip one of your asscheeks, giving it a small pinch before he whispers in your ear,

"Say you're mine."

His hand just hovers over your ass, waiting for the words to leave you and the second you pathetically whine softly, "I'm yours," his palm roughly connects with your flesh, the slap echoing in the room as a moan makes it way past your lips. "Again," he commands, his hand lovingly brushing the tingle away before it connects with your ass again as the words tumble out.

"I'm y-yours-!"

In a flash, his mouth meets yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth and devouring you from the inside out. It felt like forever, clinging to him as if he'd disappear the second you'd let go and he's quick to lift you in his arms, your legs immediately wrapping around his hips.

"I had so much in store for today," Sylus nearly grumbles as he nibbles on the side of your throat. "Though I think unwrapping the rest of you sounds like a better idea."

He takes three steps back and turns on his heel before tipping you forward til your back rests against his desk. He pulls back to gaze down at you, desire and fire burning in his eyes as his hands splay over your stomach and slowly crawl upwards, pulling soft whimpers and little gasps from your lips.

Youre unable to bite back the moan that slips out as he cages over you and grinds his hips into yours as he sighs lowly,

"I hope you're ready to take tomorrow off, sweetie." He captures your lips in a quick and heavy kiss before promising,

"I'm going to take every piece of you and claim it for myself."

He moves his face to your neck and bites down, hard enough to rip a choking gasp from your mouth before you moan back,

"All yours."

Your hands tangle in his hair and he groans, shivers running over his skin as he finally moves a hand to slip under the side of your panties, two of his fingers sliding along the length of your slit with purpose.

"Yes," he deems, eyes half lidded and dark as he reiterates to himself more than to you, "All mine."

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Muggle Activities

masterlist

pairing: tom riddle x female reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, a snippet of protective/jealous tom

summary: you finally convinced tom to go to a carnival with you

a/n: guyss i have a small something planned when i get just a few more followers and im excited :) also i have no clue what the cost of the wristbands are so i just made up a price.

song: best song ever - one direction

"I cannot believe I agreed to this," Tom aggressively sighs.

"You did it because you love me." You stand on your tippy toes and kiss his cheek.

He lowly grumbles something along the lines of, "Yeah, yeah."

You were wearing a pastel blue, knee length sundress. Along with a matching pastel blue ribbon holding your hair back behind your head.

Tom was dressed in black dress pants and white button up. His put his hands in his pants pockets and you grabbed his elbow, pulling him to the ticket stand.

The elder woman looks at you two, "Hello."

You smile at her and fidget with one of the rings on Tom's finger. "Hi! Um, may we please have two wristbands?"

"Sure, that'll be $65."

You go to take the money from your purse but Tom grabs your wrist and shakes his head. He pulls his wallet out and hands her the money.

Before you came, you and Tom went to change some of your wizard currency into muggle money.

You sigh and look at him, "Why do you never let me pay. I feel bad, you're always spending money on me."

He leans over as the lady moves to grab the wristbands. "Who's to say I don't enjoy spoiling you, darling?"

You blush and mumble, "Well, thank you."

"Alright, here you go, enjoy."

You thank the woman and excitedly move away from the stand to put the bands on. "May I see your wrist, sir?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He holds out his wrist and you put it on, he then does the same for you.

"Alright! Where should we go first?"

Tom looks around and shrugs, "I don't know, you're the one who's familiar with these things."

"Hm, let's start with... Zero Gravity!" You grab his hand and start walking towards the ride.

"Do we have to go on rides?" Tom practically whines. "Why not those things over there?" You look at him and see him watching the carnival games. "Muggles think this stuff is fun?" Tom asks as he looks at the ride that swings back and forth as people scream.

"Yep! Oh and don't worry we'll do the games. After a few rides," you grin. "Come on."

You make it to the line and to your surprise, the line was decently short, so you were able to get onto the ride quickly.

You two stand next to each other and the ride starts a minute later, spinning so fast that you two are pushed back against the padding behind you.

After it stops, you two walk off and stand out of the way. "So! How was your first ride experience?"

"It was... nauseating. I don't know what the point of that was."

"I think it was fun!" You bounce on your feet and look up at his hair which got a bit messed up.

You reach your arms up and comb your fingers through his hair, neatening it.

"If anyone else were to touch my hair, I-"

"You would use an unforgivable curse, blah blah blah."

"You know me too well," he gives you a boyish grin. He puts his arm on your shoulders and turns you. Running his fingers through your hair and tightening your bow.

"Thanks, love," you kiss his hand. "Okay, next let's go on the swings!"

He nods and follows you like a lost puppy, although if anyone were to say that they wouldn't have a tongue to say anything again.

You two show your wristbands and find your seats. The ride begins and the swings start going around as it rises into the air. Tom has to admit it's a good view since it's nighttime and everything is lit up.

It spins for about two more minutes before slowing and going low again. When it's stopped you turn to Tom, "That was great, wasn't it?"

He shrugs as you both unhook the straps, "I don't know if I would use that word, but it wasn't bad." You walk over to him and take his hand in yours, walking through the exit. "Where to now, angel?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "How about that roller coaster?"

He looks at where you're pointing and starts to shake his head immediately. "No. Abso-bloody-lutely not."

"Come on Tom! It's not that bad." You start pulling him and you look back at him, "It's practically the same things as the Gringotts Mine Cart."

"I suppose."

You wait a bit on the line and get put in your own cart. You hold his hand and put your free hand on his bouncing knee. "Don't be nervous, love."

He scoffs, "I'm not nervous."

You narrow your eyes at him, "Mhm."

The ride starts and you go all directions at a great speed. It goes in loops and goes up before it drops.

You look over at Tom and see his eyes closed. You smile and poke his cheek. He opens his eyes and looks at you when you laugh, "You're so cute."

He doesn't have time to scold you for calling him cute because the cart takes a sharp turn before going back to where you started.

The man running the ride comes and lifts the bars. You two step out and go down the stairs. "That was amazing," you lean against Tom's side.

"Whatever you say, darling."

"Okay, why don't we get some cotton candy and then play a few games. It's already 10:45."

"Okay," he kisses your head. You two walk over and purchase two cotton candy and then walk to one of the games.

"Tom! I need to win a fish! The poor things are probably miserable in those tiny bags."

"Okay only one though because I don't think Hogwarts allows pet fish."

"Bloody hell," Tom says holding two large buckets full of bagged fish.

"I can't leave them to die in there!"

"As much as I love how caring you are, was winning thirty-four fish necessary?"

"Yes, Tom. That lady was nice enough to let me play for almost twenty minutes. Okay! Next game."

You two walk up to the game with darts you throw to pop small balloons on the wall.

You smile at the guy working the game. He seemed about your age. "Hi!"

He looks up from his phone and Tom places the buckets on the ground. "Hey," he says, lips curving into a small smirk.

"Mind if I play once?" You ask, handing him a five dollar bill.

"Not at all," he winks and hands you three darts. You hand two to Tom and keep the last one.

Tom throws his, popping two balloons. You throw the last one and pop a balloon.

"Great aim," the guy says. "Pick whatever."

You glance around, spotting something before turning to Tom. "That looks like Novalie," you beam at him, referring to your owl. Tom looks behind you and sees the guy looking quite low in a place he certainly shouldn't be.

He turns you around and wraps an arm around your shoulder while he glares at the guy, "We'll take the owl," he says coolly.

The guy grabs it and hands it to you with a charming smile. He opens his mouth but Tom cuts him off, starting to walk away. "Let's go, sweetheart."

You glance back at the guy who's watching you two walk away. "Bye, thank you! Oh, the fish!"

"I'll get them, wait here." Tom walks over and picks up the buckets. You see him lean over and mumble something to the guy who looks like he's seen a ghost.

You hit his arm when he gets to you, "What did you say to the poor guy?"

"Nothing," he says.

"Didn't look like nothing to me."

"Nothing that you should hear."

"Tom."

"Don't 'Tom' me. We should get going, don't you want to get the fish a thing to live in?"

"A fish tank?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, luckily I saw a place called 'PetSmart' on our way here. I'm going to buy so many decorations for it."

You two walk to the car and put the fish on the floor in the back. You two sit down and as soon as you put your seatbelt on, Tom's lips are on your.

He puts his hand on the back of your neck and holds you in place.

You put a hand on his arm and the other on his shoulder. He bites your bottom lip and you lightly gasp. He slides his tongue in your mouth and slides his against yours.

You kiss him for another few seconds and then pull back breathing heavy. "Goodness me, Tom."

"I love you, you know that?"

You furrow your eyebrows, "Of course I do. I love you, too."

"You wouldn't leave me, right?"

"Tom," you peck his lips. "Never in eternity would I leave you."

"Okay. Let's go get that fish tank," he puts a hand on your thigh and starts driving.

[llondonfog]

MILK & HONEY. + dazzling fic art by @suntails <3 (also available on ao3)

“It will be alright, darling boy, I promise— everything will be alright.”

There’s no response, but Lilia doesn’t mind. His son has always been the quiet, thoughtful sort. Humming faint snatches of a lullaby long forgotten, he threads a hand through the boy’s moonlit strands, apathetic to the copper rust smears left behind. The child’s bangs have grown, he notes idly, fussing with the strands that have fallen over the boy’s face. Lilia ought to cut them soon.

“There will be time for that later,” he finishes his thought out loud, bending forward to press his lips benevolently to his son’s cool forehead— a blessing, Lilia thinks privately with a smile, examining the faint crimson outline of his lips against that pale skin. Blood of the father, blood of the son; sacrament and all that.

“But for now, my dear,” he gently strokes the backs of stained claws against the side of his boy’s face, leaving a virginal blush behind on a bloodless cheek. “It is time for you to wake up.”

Silver is five years old and held at knifepoint when he first meets his father. 

There is a man holding his small arms behind his back, another grasping at his feet, while a third laughs grimly down at his rapidly watering eyes and traces the blade delicately against his temple.

“You’ve been a burden on our village for far too long, brat,” he sneers while Silver’s rabbit heart beats fast and panicked within his heaving chest. “No mother, no father, cared for out of the kindness of our hearts, and you have the nerve to go about stealing our scraps to feed the animals?”

They’re hungry too! Silver wants to cry out, if opening his mouth wouldn’t drag the blade against his hairline. And they’re his friends, when no one else would be. 

The man, unfortunately, is right.

He has no family to speak of; an abandoned babe with odd-colored eyes, silkspun hair, and a debilitating tendency to sleep without cause like the dead themselves that had everyone in the village whispering fearful tales of curses and changelings. It didn’t help that the spring of his arrival had marked the beginning of a painful famine that would relentlessly grip the decaying land, crops failing out of a barren and cracked landscape as rivers began to bleed thin and dry. Changeling or not, it hardly took much time at all for any sympathetic feeling towards the foundling child to metamorphosize into bitter resentment at an extra mouth to feed when their own fevered children were crying out for more. Was it any wonder that he had turned to the few remaining woodland creatures for comfort, saving meager portions of his already miniscule meal to share in gratitude for their simple acceptance and affection? 

The man with the knife doesn’t wait for any answering explanation, merely smacks the blade pointedly against his cheek with a cruel, hungry gleam in those dead fish eyes, and the other two holding him still trade malicious grins. 

“It’s only fair that you pay for what you stole,” the man continues, almost kind and patient in his rationale— (I didn’t steal! Silver wants to shout, mouth dry and empty with fear. I only ever gave them food from my portion!)— and he hums with a terrifying softness at the way Silver’s frightened gaze tracks the knife’s every teasing glide about his forehead and his limbs tremble in their brutish hold. “Oh, not with your life— not at first, anyways. We’re going to scalp you; I can only imagine the price your pretty hair will fetch when we tell the traders that it's woven out of pure silver. It’s a start for what you owe us all for taking care of your worthless and lazy hide for the past five years, and then—”

He pauses as if for some grand operatic effect, savoring the way the tears helplessly gather and bubble at the edge of Silver’s lashes with a wicked smile. 

“Then, we’ll kill you and plate you tonight as dinner. I think there’s enough to go around for the rest of the village, don’t you?”

Two things happen: First, Silver bursts into tears. Second, a dark shape drops from the trees above and latches onto the man’s throat, tearing it open in one fluid movement and soaking the entire scene, Silver included, in a hot spray of blood.  

The entire woodland clearing erupts into chaotic, frenzied screaming. The other two men violently shove him forward in a futile attempt to use him as a shield and escape, and he falls numbly to the ground, limbs frozen in place out of dumb shock as shadows leap effortlessly over his head. The knife that had been so sinister just moments ago lies dull and dirtied in the forest floor by the now nearly headless corpse, and in the dim reflection of its blade, Silver can make out the similar gruesome demise of his other captors. The shrieking fearful sounds are silenced just as abruptly as they began; in less than thirty seconds, the forest has returned to its quiet, sedative self, at peace with the justice that has been served. 

Who . . ?

Quiet, gentle footsteps sound from behind him, their stride unhurried and at ease as they round his quivering, prostrate frame, and something hysterically yells in his mind that it’s poor manners to not at least look his rescuer in the eyes. 

“Hello, child,” the angel (for surely that must be, he fell from the heavens, did he not?) smiles down at him through dripping fangs.

Silver stares up through blood-splattered lashes at his savior and wonders if this is what it’s like to be stricken with love. 

The vampire takes him home. 

He laughs uproariously when Silver so shyly and seriously wonders aloud if he was truly an angel, with hands as kind and gentle as the spring sun upon the muddy bruises and dried wounds from the knife split across his face. 

He laughs at a lot of things that Silver says. It’s uncannily loud and booming for such a small man, but Silver instantly decides that he likes it.

The vampire explains that he is, well, a vampire. He even lets Silver curiously brush tiny fingers over his fangs once they’ve been cleaned of blood and gristle, smiling down at him all the while without a trace of malice that he’s grown so used to seeing. 

He tells Silver that his name is Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge. It’s a difficult name, a weighty name for Silver’s tongue to pronounce, but he rolls it softly in his mouth to savor it all the same, marveling at how much it feels like royalty. 

Lilia explains to him by the light of the fire that he’s lived for a very long time, that he’s enjoyed a life rich beyond anyone’s comprehension from all of the sights he’s seen and the wonders he’s traveled. But no creature is immortal, not even vampires, as long-lived as they may be— the years are heavier now, they ache and sting at his bones as if he’d soaked them in baptismal water. And in his many travels, he had so happened to stumble upon this empty cottage tucked away and abandoned inside this quiet, peaceful forest—

(“Like me,” Silver whispers solemnly. “Is that so?” says Lilia, summer-cherry eyes brilliant against the flames.) 

—and so he had thought, what a nice place to relax and rest his weary soul, a place for him to enjoy a rare moment of serenity before the next grand adventure swept him back out to sea. 

“How silly of me at my age to think that I could anticipate the future,” Lilia brushes his hand gently through Silver’s tangled hair, the knots easily coming undone from a mere sweep of his fingertips. Silver can’t quite recall how and when he had made his way onto the vampire’s lap, only that he is leaning his head adoringly against the man’s chest, staring up at him with bated breath.

“I didn’t expect to have to rescue my newest venture!” 

There’s no need to discuss it after that: Lilia never asks him to leave, and Silver never thinks to do so. 

It’s idyllic. Lilia feeds him, clothes him, lets him play with the forest animals for as long as he wishes. They take care of the little cottage together— Silver discovers a patch of land in the back that at one point might have been a sad attempt at a garden, but under the patient toil of the two of them, burgeons into life with all manner of flowers and vegetables. Lilia teaches him how to darn his socks and how to properly use a whetstone. He tucks Silver into the small bed alongside him and paints visions of faraway worlds upon the thin wooden walls, a better storyteller than any traveling bard that had come to the village before.

When Silver calls him ‘Father’ for the first time, he doesn’t laugh. 

In return, Silver doesn’t complain when he helps Lilia mop up any traces of blood from the traveler he’s feasted upon for the night. 

His father is not a monster, this Silver knows as truly as the sun travels through the sky. The weary men and women who wander across their little abode are treated with nothing but kindness— a warm seat by the fire, a fresh meal to eat, and a soft place to rest their heads. All that his father asks of them is to spare what little coin and wares that they are able to part with, a strange gleam in his eyes and a sincere smile on his face.

Without fail, the strangers comply. They always do.

And in the morning, if they’re a little more woozy than when they laid down to sleep, Silver reassures them that the small satchel of strong-smelling herbs and wrapped provisions for the road will do them a world of good. Together, father and son stand in the doorway of their humble home, hands raised in gestures of well wishes and farewell, as good hosts ought to do. Their visitors stumble down the chrysanthemum and lycoris-lined pathway back to the welcoming arms of the forest, and Silver flexes his toes in his new shoes while his father indulgently twirls his latest trinket around his fingertips, admiring the glint of it in the pale sunlight. 

(“Not all vampires are as kind as I am, child,” his father explains to him as he tucks a sheathed blade into the drawer of their nightstand, under the pressed and faded flowers that Silver had brought for him over time. “There are those who would see longevity as the means to power instead of the humbling blessing that it truly is. There are those who have let their years sour their minds like fermented wine, who have only steeped in cruelty instead of basking in the innocence that still exists in this world. And I would not have you defenseless inside our own home.”

Silver looks at the dull sheen of the knife and thinks back to the cold sting of one flayed against his cheek, and he wonders if those who lurk in the shadows of the night are truly the ones he ought to fear.)  

The years pass in this necessary fashion, seasons tumbling and turning over themselves with a prevailing peace that Silver had once believed could only exist in storybooks. He outgrows his sleeves faster than travelers pass by, and it isn’t long before he finds himself a whole head and a half taller than the vampire. His father laughs at his shaggy bangs, proclaiming Silver to be more sheep than boy, and attacks his hair with all the ferocity of a mad barber. The lasting effect leaves something to be desired and Silver could swear that the bluebirds by their window are chortling to themselves instead of singing. 

His father ruffles his sharp nails through the butchered mess of Silver’s hair and laughs again, proclaiming them to be matching lopsided twins, and Silver is unable to imagine a moment that he’s ever been happier. 

What a shame it is then, that all good things cannot last. 

The summer of Silver’s sixteenth year is a cruel, unforgiving one. 

The August sun swelters the earth with a breathless heat, insidious like none before. It is relentless in its seething anger to drive the woodland creatures to the deepest burrows in search of shade, the birds to practically droop like molten taffy in their water bowls, and his father to haunt the shadows of their home, face flushed and eyes feverish in a way that no cool rag could soothe. 

There could be no greater pain in Silver’s heart than this: the wilt in his father’s proud spine, the light tremors that seize his clever fingertips. He hovers over the vampire like a fretting maid, hands wringing uselessly as nothing short of the obvious will soothe his father’s condition, and travelers have been few and far between. Lilia conjures up smiles for him and swears that he’ll be alright, it’s simply a harsher season than before, and Silver cannot help but get the distinct feeling that he’s being placated. Even worse, it mostly works, the lonely and frightened child from the woods who sleeps deep in his soul comforted by that unsinkable paternal reassurance. 

Still, Silver is unable to completely shake the feeling that something is amiss. 

Lately, his rest at night has been disturbed. He wakes to the faint sounds of ruptured inhales so very close to his ear, of something in the clear throes of distress, with choked noises of desperately sought after air as if the deprived creature was suffocating. The noises are so frightening, so animalistic in nature that Silver can only think to associate them with his beloved woodland creatures, and yet when he hurries to his bedroom window and peers outside with his heart in his throat to find the poor animal that had been mauled by a predator— there is nothing but the silent gleam of moonlight, shining down upon his deflated flower beds. 

His father merely purses his lips in worry when Silver brings these odd instances to him, and wonders aloud if these are queasy dreams brought on by the heat; with little else to explain, Silver’s inclined to believe him. 

But these events are pushed out of his mind when salvation finally approaches one late afternoon in the weary figure of a man, clinging to the reins of a stumbling horse, at the end of their pathway. 

His father must have sensed the newcomer’s presence too, for Lilia is at the door before Silver can even call for him, ever the gracious host and smiling beatifically at their wayward traveler as if Silver hadn’t needed to shake his shoulders thrice in mounting worry to wake him that very morning. The man eagerly accepts the offer of nightly shelter, passing the reins of his horse to Silver to tie to a post in the welcome shade of a nearby tree, and Silver watches over its broad shoulder as he gently rubs the creature down. His father, ever the effortless conversationalist even at the height of his malady, needs no reins with which to lead the man into the cool, womb-like darkness of their home, and Silver feels a rush of palpable relief at the familiarity of the old song and dance— perhaps at last, his father might finally take a turn for the better.  

The next morning, Silver checks on his father first and smiles to see the vampire snoring away in what must have been his first blissful sleep in weeks, bedsheets haphazardly tangled about him in an ocean of white. With practiced motions, he leans down to straighten the blankets fondly around the slumbering figure, only to wrinkle his nose at the sharp scent of iron heavy on his father’s breath. After such a dry spell, the bitter tang scratches at his senses, and he can’t help but take a glance into their tiny living room where their guest yawns and shuffles in his borrowed blankets. 

Perhaps a breakfast with a healthy side of dark, leafy greens was in order. 

Morning is a quiet and simple affair— his father is sleeping in for once it seems, and Silver makes efficient work out of the early meal for their guest who must have had a rough night of tossing and turning judging by his wrinkled clothes and constant, belly-deep yawns. Silver even offers for the man to stay a while longer if he isn’t fit yet for travel, but their guest insists (rather strongly for his exhausted nature) that he could not impose on their goodwill much longer. With a mental shrug, Silver bows his head and allows the man privacy to retrieve his things, heading outside with the intent to bring the waiting horse to its owner. 

Only, the horse is nowhere to be seen. 

Silver’s heart falters in his chest, and he turns to their departing guest with a litany of apologies on his lips, for he had been so sure of tying the creature up safely for the night, but the man waves him off with an unsteady hand and a smile that keeps attempting to slip from his face as if greased, proclaiming that he had no need for what had been such an aging beast. He could continue his travels alone, and Silver can only watch and uneasily curl his fingers into his palms as the man cuts a wavering figure back down their pathway despite his bewildered protests. 

(“We ought to warn those who stop by that there may be a bear in the woods,” he tells his father later, the vampire having woken long past their traveler’s departure. “The noises I’ve been hearing and now the horse’s disappearance. . . someone could get hurt.” 

His father doesn’t seem too concerned with Silver’s hypothesis, and he supposes that’s simply how one behaves after centuries of besting mortality. Still, he resolves to be more cautious in his time spent outdoors.) 

The man’s arrival marks a turning point in the summer, the blistering dog days giving way to the cooler promise of autumn. It also marks a turning point in his father’s health, one that Silver is initially so incredibly grateful for as the vampire seems to perk up and become the very picture of rosy, energetic grace. The weakened figure of mere weeks prior haunts the corridors of his mind, and Silver finds himself making excuses as his father welcomes the oddly increasing number of strangers who have found themselves down their homely path with open arms and glittering eyes above a wide, gleaming smile. It had simply been a veritable drought of company, and his father, gregarious as he was, was in his element now, thriving off the attention almost as much as the blood that came with it.

And perhaps that is what itched at his nerves most of all. It was one thing to suddenly play house with the travelers that seemed to constantly appear on their doorstep—

(Silver had questioned them, a discomforting notion to learn that not only had they been told of the cottage’s existence by those who staggered off in the mornings, but almost fervently urged to visit.)

—but never before had he witnessed his father drink in such abandon. With such a slow, but steady, trickle of visitors, his father may have sampled another’s blood once or twice a month at most, always cautious enough to not take too much. His father is not a monster, and his kindness exceeds that of all the humanity that Silver had known in his short life— this he tells himself as he averts his gaze from the still-clotting punctures, glistening and accusatory over rumpled shirts. 

His father is not a monster, and he still tells himself this as he stumbles out of his bedroom one cold winter’s night, awoken once more to that strange, garbled collection of sound. His father is not a monster, because it simply could not be his father crouched before him on the floor of their living room, an all too still and silent figure splayed out beneath him like a rag doll. He surely must be dreaming, as those muffled, wet noises pause in their desperate slurping and enlarged fangs draw up and away from a ruined shoulder, dripping in a dark, glutinous substance. His father is not a monster, because the creature hunched in the shadows of a dying fire looks nothing like the angel who had rescued him in the forest all those years ago— whatever this, this thing is, slavering wildly over a face locked in a euphoric death mask, it is not his dearest father.

They behold each other in the scant space of a fragile moment, a bewildered gaze still frozen before the onslaught of horror could possibly sink in opposite that of unmoored feral hunger. Silver thinks back to the knife hidden beneath the drawer of his nightstand, cloaked in dust and dried flowers and the somber protection of a father’s love. He thinks back to the incredible speed that had disposed of the men who had intended to kill him on such a similar frigid night, a speed unmatched to the naked eye. 

The vampire utters his name like a prayer, smeared tenderly in lamb’s blood.

His father is not a monster.

Silver opens his arms, and waits for his angel to carry him home. 

In response to the delicate graze of his father’s gore-drenched claws against his youthful face, the boy’s eyes flutter open at last. Lilia does not seem to notice the vibrancy that has vanished from them, leaving behind the dull haze of a mist-choked morn where once the dawn light soared; perhaps he simply does not care. “Oh, Silver,” he breathes in reverence, the miraculous wonder of a father witnessing his child’s (re)birth for the first time, and he throws his arms around the boy’s stiff shoulders. There is no response, but that is to be expected when one is missing a greater third of their tattered and torn esophagus, the mutilated remains of which are strewn across the floor or smeared over Lilia’s mouth.  “My darling boy, my precious son, how perfect you are at last.”

Silver trembles in his arms like a newborn fawn, and Lilia coos reassurances to him, helps his boy to his feet and steadies his legs as he leads him over to where their meal now lay in a crumpled and tangled heap. It is always cumbersome, the first feeding, and Lilia had no one to guide him through the carnal, mindless greed of his own— no such fate shall befall his son. He will share with him the abundance of milk and honey, lift it to his frozen lips where those new, budding fangs peek innocently above, and watch with boundless pride as new life, a near eternal life, is bestowed upon the one timeless treasure he has coveted in over six hundred stolen centuries. 

Later, they will bury the body together, sink the flesh deep within the garden where the others take their rest, a cluster of pearly white bones only disturbed by an odd set of larger, equine-shaped ones. Later still, when a young man approaches their home in the evening gloom to seek shelter on the long, arduous journey to his grandfather, Silver will greet him. He will smile enchantingly over his new high-necked shirt and take his hand, drawing him deep into the clutches of their wonderful little home, deep into the blessed darkness where his father waits. The table will stay barren, the bed unmade— there is no more need for pretense between the two of them. Not now, and not ever. 

Lilia can see it all. And with pleasure, he smiles. 

[stolitzsings]

A Moment in the Sun

[This is my first attempt at helluva boss fic, so please enjoy a soft, short little thing about sunlight, rest, and trying something new <3 it was inspired by this beautiful artwork, and my constant need for soft stolitz]

“Man, I didn’t know sunlight could feel this good,” Blitz said, leaning back on his hands and turning his face upward. 

Stolas shielded his face with one hand and looked at him affectionately. The light was almost blinding to his eyes, so well-suited to studying more distant stars. 

“Darling, you're up here every week,” he said.

Blitz waved this away, eyes closed as he enjoyed the warmth of the living world's sun. “Yeah, but I'm always trying to kill someone. Kinda hard to smell the roses when some asshole is trying to shoot your dick off.”

Stolas smiled. “I suppose that's true.” Blitz did look more relaxed than he'd seen in a long time. The discomfort of the searing sunlight was a small price to pay for that. 

He smoothed out a corner of the blanket they were sitting on and looked around at the earthly greenery around them. He'd been lucky to find this secluded little spot, a grassy hill that rose high enough above the surrounding trees to afford them a beautiful view of the sky. He’d brought Via here a few times to stargaze, and he was happy to share it with Blitz now.

He turned back towards Blitz to find him halfway through stripping off his shirt. Color rose immediately in his cheeks as he watched the movement of Blitz’s back muscles under his skin. 

Blitz noticed him looking. “Don't get any ideas, birdbrain. I'm not getting grass stains on my ass for you.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, letting the sun warm his back. He really was lovely in the sunlight–the dark gloss of his horns and spines, the striking contrast of white and red–and Stolas couldn't help but stare.

He stroked one finger down Blitz’s spine, slow and deliberate, enjoying the way Blitz relaxed under his touch. Then Stolas just brushed the base of his tail, and he felt him go very still.

Oh? That was something new. He started again, this time tracing from between his shoulder blades to a few inches down his tail. There was no mistaking it this time. The moment he reached it, Stolas heard his breath hitch. 

“Is everything alright, darling?” he asked innocently, one finger still drawing short, delicate lines along his tail's base.

“Yep, fine,” he snapped, too quickly. Stolas fought back a smile. Blitz liked to think of himself as cool and hard to read, keeping his true feelings hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and thoughtlessness. But there were moments when he fell open like a book, secrets exposed to the world. Stolas cherished every one. He drank in the sight of Blitz’s spines lifting along his back, his cheeks flushing faintly, his head tilting just slightly back as Stolas continued to run his hand further down his tail. 

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, his fingers circling around Blitz’s spines, “it makes sense that imp tails would be rather sensitive. I'd never thought of it because my own is just feathers.” Blitz had turned half-around now, watching Stolas with his mouth slightly open.

Happy to have his attention, Stolas lifted Blitz’s tail into his hands and began to wind it between his fingers. “But yours is functional, rather than simply ornamental.”

He could hear Blitz carefully pacing each breath, trying and failing to seem unaffected. Stolas let another few inches slip through his fingers and smiled at the way his next measured inhale became an unsteady gasp. 

“It grasps and curls,” he continued, “it probes and responds.” He reached the very end of Blitz’s tail and gently cupped its pointed barb in his hands.

“It can bristle in anger…” His voice was reverent as he bent his head down.

“...or shiver in ecstasy.” He pressed a kiss to the center of the barb and felt a thrill run through Blitz’s whole body, mirroring the excited flutter of Stolas's heart.

The next thing he felt was his back colliding with the ground as Blitz tackled him. Stolas laughed, his breath only slightly impeded by the imp now straddling his ribcage.

“Fuck you.” He tried to look stern, but he was already fumbling with the buttons of Stolas's shirt.

“Darling, I believe that's your job.”

Blitz’s tail flicked a sharp reprimand against Stolas's thigh. Then he tangled his sun-warmed hands in Stolas's hair feathers and swept him up into a kiss.

[sadsimp]

With an Asexual Reader!

We need some representation in this fandom. So aces babes this is for you 😌

Includes: Keegan, Alejandro, Ghost, Price.

Warnings: Bad grammar, If any let me know :3 This is my first time writing so I’m sorry if it’s bad

Ghost-     

He might not know what the word means so, he looks at you like  “Asexual? What’s that? Is this your sad attempt at a joke? 🤨” 

After some explaining and he understands he’s totally fine with it. “There’s a word for that? Oh.. cool.” 

I believe he might be ace honestly, he just didn’t know that there was a word for it

Happy that you trust him with that knowledge and never judges you for it. Will fight anyone who says shit

I think after a while of thinking he might come out as well

“Ace Buddies :D” You laugh and open your arms for a hug. He raises an eyebrow and slowly lets himself be hugged and holds you tight. “Whatever you say love.”

10/10

Price-      

You would need to explain because he doesn’t know what it means, but after you tell him, he’s chill. It might take some time for him to understand that you still love him even though you don’t want to have sex. 

Since he’s a bit older(not by that much he’s only 37) he’s used to having sex being apart of relationships but he’s willing to let it go for you

He asks your boundaries, and if he’s being to much with small things like holding your hand or kissing. He’s perfectly fine with going at your pace and wants you to be comfortable and happy. 

“Did you really think that would change anything?” He asks you softly. He takes your hand and gives it a small pec. “Of course not, I love you and nothing will ever change that darling.” You chuckle and wipe some tears that have dropped on your cheeks and give him a hug.  9/10

Alejandro-    

He’s so chill. Like for real

He admires you for telling him and being able to bring up something as personal as that. “ Gracias por decirmelo, encantadora/ encantador.” ( thank you for telling me, lovely.”

Asks what your boundaries are and what you don’t want after you tell him 

Will fight anyone who says shit in a 50 mile radius of you. Will not let you feel ashamed either

“Mi vida, you know not to listen to them. Don’t pay them any mind.” He kisses your cheek and holds out his hand for you to take. You shake your head, and grab his hand. “You’re right, let’s get out of here.” 

Buys you Pride stuff anytime he comes across it. Brings it home with the biggest smile. Will wear the Pride stuff too.

Goes with you to pride parades if you want <3

100/10

Keegan-  

 Would be totally fine with you being asexual. Whether it’s during the events of the game or after, he doesn’t care

I personally see him as being greysexual, meaning he experiences very little sexual attraction 

When you told him that you were asexual he just nodded and came out with you

“Hey Kee?” You asked walking up to him. It’s not often you have free time, and you’ve been meaning to get this off your chest for a while.  He looked up for a brief moment and then went back to cleaning his gun. “Yeah?” You stood there for a moment and took a deep breath. “Can I tell you something?” 

You were nervous, he could tell. You were bouncing on your heels and playing with your hands. “You can tell me anything you know that.” He patted the spot next to him. You took a deep breath and sat down. You thought for a while on how you wanted to say it. “I’m asexual… I don’t really like or care for sex.” 

You did it. You said it. The room was quiet besides your breathing, and the outside chatter. He didn’t say anything for a second, he stopped cleaning and looked at you. You were scared he was gonna break up with you right then and there. Call you picky, or weird, say he wanted nothing to do with you. 

“We’re in the same boat then, I’m greysexual. Thanks for telling me.” He spoke, and went back to cleaning his gun. You were dumbfounded, he was alright with this? He nudged you with his arm, and you made eye contact, “We’re gonna be fine, Hun. Don’t you worry.” 

10/10

[alexanderlightweight]

I don't have a specific prompt. I'm just in the mood for some angst. Whatever you feel like writing is fine with me!😁

this is for a verse (ritual & souls) because i can't write something angsty and not follow it up and this is sort of but not really major character death? but also it isn't? it's like using ritual death to travel worlds etc

i hope you enjoy and this was angsty enough for you!

-

Magnus stares at Alexander, at the man who was made for him, at the boy his soul aches to love and never will. Alexander is staring at him in horror and grief and his lovely hazel eyes are shimmering with tears. “Magnus—” he whispers, “why did you test him? He told you he would never let us be together.”

“Our father’s do not define us, Alexander.” Magnus reminds him and presses a bloody palm to his boy’s cheek. “I do not bow to my own, why should I bow to yours?”

“You denied your birthright.” Alexander reminds him and his tears leave tracks through the blood across his face. “You didn’t have the power to face my father, we both knew that.”

“But I had to try.” Magnus says, because he couldn’t not try to win and keep Alexander. There is so little that entices Magnus, not in this cruel world where only Camille is left amongst those Magnus once knew and Camille is the one who he wishes had died in anyone else’s stead. There was a boy Magnus almost saved, nearly a hundred years ago, but Magnus was too loathe to open his heart up for the potential of another loss. Whether that child survived his change to vampirism, Magnus isn’t sure.

Alexander was worth the risk, and he is still worth the price Magnus is paying. The knowledge that he has a match, an echo to his own soul, is too much a gift for it to be anything else in a world this dim. Cat and Ragnor always wanted this for him and it’s in their honor and his own obsession that he pursued it.

“You didn’t. You could have waited, Magnus. Until I got strong enough to ignore him. You know he considers me a mere babe no matter what. He refuses to acknowledge that I take after my mother in this way.”

“He fears that it could mean you won’t be immortal.”

“I already know I am.” Alexander cries out, and his lips are pressing to Magnus’ brow. “I knew it the moment our souls connected. A bond as strong as ours can’t form between two souls without an equal chance of living and dying. I’m as immortal as you are, Magnus. In all the ways that count.”

Magnus knows he is as well, it’s why he yearned to hide Alexander away immediately, and take him away from this world that was so cruel, to a different place. It’s why he risked it all for this plan, a way to send his soul from his dying body into another world, where he could create a new and safer life for and with Alexander. A world where Magnus can harvest power carefully until he can face any of the dangers he now runs from.

“Do something for me?” Magnus asks, knowing it’s cruel even as he says it. “Please, Alexander?”

Alexander buckles, knees on either side of Magnus’ hips as he nearly takes them both down. “Anything,” he promises, the sweet boy that he is, and Magnus leans back and presses a small shard of Magnus’ own soul, into Alexander’s palm.

“Come to me, darling. I’ll be waiting for you. Alright?”

Alexander looks at him with pained, grief-filled eyes and Magnus knows he’s asked his boy to make an impossible choice, but he doesn’t regret a single moment of it.

—

Alec shudders as he carefully lets his blood fall into the array. He’s saved this part of the ritual for last, even if it should have been one of the first. He can’t risk anyone or anything in service of his father to scent the royal blood and alert their king before Alec’s ready.

His father needs to arrive at the exact moment the ritual tears Alec apart, but after Alec has made a sacrifice of blood and life to ensure that he will be remade on in the world Magnus waits for him in. His father won’t know that, and that’s the most important thing. The unseelie king has strange powers over dimensions and even Magnus isn’t sure what Alec’s father is capable of.

Alec still isn’t sure what Magnus means, or why any of this was necessary if they could have just hidden and waited but he knows that somewhere, Magnus is waiting for him, and he doesn’t think he can handle the thought of not going to him. There is an aching wound in Alec’s chest where their bond once thrummed, a frayed and writhing mass of agony. Alec thinks that Magnus dying in his arms was his punishment and this slow torture in his chest is a reminder that Magnus is waiting for him.

Alec can’t not go to him.

Alec can’t bear the idea that Magnus is somewhere with this same, hollow ache and Alec doesn’t care what it takes, he’ll do it.

If that means sundering his soul and body apart in the hopes that Magnus will be able to catch him and pull him back to him and together again, then he will.

[the-fiction-witch]

Dad

Media Love Actually

Character Sam

Couple Sam X Reader

Rating Sweet AF

Concept New Daddy

"You sure you two will be okay?" I asked getting my handbag and fixing my skirt for work, I hated doing this but I didn't have much of a choice my landlord was fumigating the whole building so we had to be out for two weeks, and my usual daycare was closed today due to them having a massive pipe leak, I really didn't want to do this I felt awful but what choice did I really have? 

"We'll be fine won't we munchkin" Sam smiled as little Ivy ran over to him still in her PJ of course and he happily picked her up sitting her on his hip

"You sure it's not too much trouble-"

"Not your fault is it, you're already staying here and I don't have anything to do anyway. It's fine we'll have fun won't we little munchkin?" 

"Yeah!" she giggled 

"We'll be fine, don't worry about us"

"Okay well I'm just a phone call away"

"I know, but I'm sure I can handle it," he says "Go say bye-bye to your mummy," He tells her setting her down 

"Bye bye mummy" she smiled hugging my leg

"Bye-bye darling, you be good for Uncle Sam alright? I'll see you when I get home"

"I will I promise" She smiled before she ran off towards the spare room we were sleeping in 

"Any problems-"

"I know, Have a good day at work"

"Thanks, Sam" I smiled grabbing my keys and heading off to work for the day.

It had been a very long day one of those days where nothing quite goes the way you want it to I was home later than I wanted to be but such is the way some days. I headed inside seeing the place rather dark and quiet Sam got up from the sofa shutting the TV off as he came over "Hey, how was work?"

"Ughh don't" I sighed

"Sorry, dinner's in the microwave for you"

"Thanks, Sam" I smiled "How was Ivy?" I asked grabbing the plate from the microwave and taking a seat at the small table

"Aww, she's been a little angel,"

"Oh? What did you do then?"

"Well we went to the park she had a nice play on the swings for a while, then we went to the museum and learnt about dinosaur bones and whales,"

"Aww That's sweet Sam"

"If we're going to spend the day together she might as well learn something, and I may have treated her to a little present from the gift shop"

"You didn't have to do that"

"I know, but I like to treat her sometimes" 

"That's why she thinks you're fun Uncle Sam" 

"Five-pound admission and a ten-pound spend in a gift shop is a small price to pay for her to have some fun, and she gets to go back to daycare next week with lots of dinosaur facts" 

"How'd dinner go?"

"Very well she helped me cook and even did the drying up" 

"She's a good girl,"

"How was work?" 

"You know how it goes, paperwork, Luke being Luke" 

"I don't know why you don't quit that awful place"

"What else would I do Sam? I have to take care of Ivy somehow"

"...what if, you two came and stayed with me? on a more permanent basis?"

"and what would I do all day?"

"Take care of Ivy, help me with the house. look after the place when I go on tour"

"That's very sweet Sam, but I can't," I told him taking my plate to the sink

"why not?" he asks coming to stand with me

"We couldn't ask that of you"

"You're not asking it of me, I'm asking you." he says "I know you hate being away from her, and I know you hate shoving her in a daycare, I'd handle stuff money-wise you get to be home all day with her"

"I can't -"

"why not? I'd be happy to and I know I wouldn't be sending you two back to that awful flat"

"even so, where would we sleep?"

"well, Ivy can have the spare room as her bedroom and... I figured you could bunk with me"

"Oh? At the foot of your bed?"

"if that's where you're comfortable, I thought more snuggled up with me but it's up to you"

"That's sweet Sam but it's not even like we're-"

"Then we can be, if you want a label on it I'm more than happy to put one and it makes it easier for little Ivy" He explained "Unless you, don't see me like that?"

"Well... I uhhh" I stuttered 

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it?"

"I might have" I blushed of course I had thought about it, I had thought about Sam like that for as long as I'd known him but I suppose I'd always just tossed those feelings away

"Because I have, far more than once. You two are always welcome here you know that" he says giving my hand a little kiss 

I blushed hard but I gave his lips a soft kiss he happily kissed back wrapping his arms around my waist as my hip pressed against the counter top I smiled and stroked his shirt a little till he pulled back rubbing my nose as he did 

"How about you get you're nightie and come stay in my bed tonight?" 

"That does sound nice" I smiled "Did you have anything planned for Ivy tomorrow?"

"Yeah I promised I'd take her to the seal sanctuary and the beach for ice cream, You're more than welcome to blow off work and come too. It could be a lovely day just the three of us" 

"she loves seals, that sounds lovely Sam" I smiled giving him another kiss 

He chuckled a little as he pulled away "You know, she told me a little secret today"

"Did she now, what was it?"

"Ohh a top-secret, really high levels of classification I really shouldn't even be telling you this."

"I don't already know?"

"No, she told me this is so secret even you don't know" 

"Oh? What is it then?"

"she told me that for a good while now she's secretly, wanted a little brother"

"She has?"

"Ummm she wants a little brother very badly" he explained "And I think I'm in agreement with her"

"Are you?"

"I think she needs a little brother, and if that's okay with you? I'm more than happy to... help supply her with one" He smirked grinding his hips against my own. 

"Ohh would you now?"

"I would,"

"I assume you'd want something for this help? some form or repayment"

"Well, you're already moving in with me so how about I help give Ivy a little brother and I get to fill the family role as the dad? not just fun Uncle Sam."

"You'd really want that?"

"I would, I love Ivy, I love you. If you'd be willing to have me I'm more than happy to step in where Danny bailed out" 

"Aww Sam" I smiled tearing up 

"Hey, hey no little tears" he says kissing my tears away 

"It's okay their happy tears"

"Good, now you go get your nightie and give Ivy a kiss goodnight, I'll go wait up in our bed and get ready to help with her little brother" he smiled 

"Okay" I smiled giving him a sweet kiss before I headed to the spare room where Ivy and I had been sleeping seeing she had taken up all the double bed where I was gone with her blanket and a dinosaur book from the museum open in front of her where she must have been looking at it before she fell asleep, I smiled sitting on the bed and fixing her hair, tucking her in and giving her head a little kiss which woke her a little 

"Hi little one I thought you were sleeping"

"I was a little sleeping" she giggled what she often says when she was half asleep or faking it "Mummy?"

"Yes, Ivy?"

"Could Uncle Sam be my new daddy?"

"We'll see Ivy," I told her "Now you get some sleep if you need anything you call okay and either me or Sam will come help you"

"I will, goodnight mummy"

"Goodnight sweetheart"

"Tell Uncle Sam I said goodnight too"

"I will do" I laughed grabbed my things and headed out leaving her door open a crack, I headed across the locked-up house to Sam's room seeing the bed made and the ensuite light on so I set my stuff down and kicked off my heels and changed into my nightie 

"she tucked up tight?"

"All snug as a bug" I smiled, "She says goodnight"

"she's a sweetheart," he laughs coming from the bathroom shutting the light off now down to just his boxers "Whoa..."

"What?"

"You look beautiful"

"Thank you, Sam,"

"so? You're okay in my bed tonight"

"If you are"

"Most defiantly" He smiled coming and sitting beside me but leaving a respectful space "If you just wanna get to bed that's fine I don't wanna make you do anything you don't want to"

"That's very sweet Sam" I smiled kissing his head "But if it's all the same to you" I cooed holding his hand 

"Ohh believe me y/n I don't need to be asked twice" He smirked pushing me down on his bed flat so he could hover over me 

"Ohh Sam" I blushed wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss 

[goldenempyrean]

Paying The Price

〚 Day 5 - Preventative Measures (Not Taken)  〛

〚 Pairing - Sanvers 〛

〚 Summary - Alex ends up paying the price when she doesn't take preventative measures at work. At least she'll have maggie to look after her. 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙〘 Sicktember 2023 Masterlist 〙

“Do you not think you should take a coat love?  It’s meant to get a little chilly later on according to the weather.” Maggie called out as Alex finished making her to-go cup of coffee into her flask, “Pretty sure its gonna rain too by the look of those clouds.” 

The agent shook her head and waved her off with a reassuring smile, “It’ll be fine, I’m on roll to do a clinic shift anyway so it’s not like I’m gonna be out in the field or anything like that. I’ll just end up carrying it if I take it. 

That was true. The DEO had recently got wind of a small clinic on the east side of the city which was specially made to treat aliens and offer things like vaccines and just provide general care to those individuals which didn’t feel comfortable in a regular clinic. As such, when the DEO found out, J’onn offered to provide agents as a form of security there as well as to keep things in order. Alex liked her shifts at the clinic, after all, the waiting room chitchat often inadvertently provided inside knowledge to help with ongoing issues, not only that but the environment itself was warm and friendly and the people there seemed to trust her too – she’d even made some friends. 

“Alright then, have a good day at work darling.” Her girlfriend smiled, giving Alex a small kiss before she left, “Don’t forget you’re on food pickup duty tonight too.” She added playfully before beginning to make her own coffee, “I’m thinking pizza?” 

Alex smiled as she picked up her bag and turned to leave, “I won’t forget, don’t worry! Pizza sounds good, alright I’m gonna head off, see you later, have a good day at work babe.” She said before leaving the apartment and making her way out to her car. 

It wasn’t a long drive, about 40 minutes or so. When she arrived, Alex stepped out of the car and involuntarily shivered at the icy chill of the air nipping at her arms, maybe she should’ve brought a coat after all she thought, shaking her head with an eye roll knowing her girlfriend was right. At least she’d be inside for her shift though. As Alex walked through the clinic doors, she immediately noticed the bustling atmosphere. Aliens of various shapes and sizes filled the waiting area, patiently waiting for their turn to be seen by the doctors. It was definitely a lot busier than usual. 

As the agent made her way to the small security desk to clock in, she couldn’t help but inwardly groan at the sight of the other agent on shift. Agent Wilson was one of those guys who never failed to get on her nerves. Something about his cocky, nonchalant attitude always seemed to rub her the wrong way. 

“Agent Danvers it’s always nice of you to show.” He turned around upon hearing her footsteps approach, “I suppose you’ve got the delight of my company, how lucky.” The agent smirked before rooting around in his side pocket before pulling out black surgical mask and putting it on. 

"I'm here to do my job, just like you," Alex replied, choosing to ignore his sarcastic remark, "What’s with the mask?” Wearing a mask wasn’t required or was it advertised so she couldn’t help but question it especially considering no other agents had chosen to wear them in the past. 

  Agent Wilson chuckled condescendingly. "Precautions, Danvers," he said with a hint of mockery in his voice. "You know, to protect myself from any alien bugs. I don’t want my immune system being invaded by foreign bodies." 

She raised an eyebrow, feeling a sense of annoyance creep up within her. She was well aware of the potential risks of working in close proximity to sick aliens, but she had always trusted her strong immune system to keep her healthy. She prided herself on being cautious and responsible when it came to her work, but in this instance, she had overlooked the possibility of catching something.  

"Well, that's your choice," Alex finally replied, her voice laced with a hint of annoyance. "But I'm not here to alienate anyone or treat them like threats. These beings are just seeking medical help, same as any human. And besides, I've been doing shifts here for months without any issues." 

Shaking off her annoyance, Alex walked past him and made her way to the clinic's staff room to change into her uniform, the clinic preferred them to wear their own brand of gear, just as an extra precaution which was understandable.   

As she made her way to one of the smaller lockers, she put down her bag and began changing. It was only then she noticed the slump attitudes of the attending staff. The ambiance of sniffles and coughing, like that of the reception, seemed to fill this room too and spotting one of the Doctors she was familiar with Alex decided to ask what was wrong. 

"Morning," Alex greeted with a friendly smile. "Is everything alright? I couldn't help but notice that a lot of people seem to be under the weather today." 

The doctor sighed tiredly and nodded, confirming Alex's observations. "Yes, unfortunately, it seems that there's a flu-like bug going around. We've been seeing an increase in patients with respiratory symptoms over the past couple of days. We're doing our best to provide care, but it's definitely keeping us busy." 

Alex's concern grew as she processed the information. "Is it affecting the staff too? You don’t look too good yourself Doc.” While most of the staff were aliens themselves and did have a little bit more protective, there was still a good number of human employees. 

Dr. Ramirez nodded again, a hint of weariness in their eyes. "Yeah, a few of our staff members have fallen ill as well. It's a bit of a challenge, this strain is appearing to be highly contagious, but we’ll get through it. We have some people on stand-by to cover if need be.” 

Alex's eyes widened a little. The flu was bad news, especially in a clinic where a diverse range of alien species sought treatment. She couldn't help but wonder if Agent Wilson's decision to wear a mask was more justified than she had initially thought. 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Alex asked, her determination to assist in any way she could shining through. 

Dr. Ramirez's weary expression brightened a little at her offer. "Actually, there is something you could do," they replied gratefully. "Since we're short-staffed due to many doctors and nurses falling ill. If you could lend a hand with triaging patients and assisting in basic medical procedures, it would be a tremendous help." 

Without hesitation, Alex nodded, her sense of duty and compassion driving her forward. "Of course, I'll do whatever I can. Just tell me what needs to be done." 

For the remainder of the morning, she continued to help out where necessary, leaving security down to the other agent. It was definitely a lot faster paced but with her background in biochemistry she was well within her depth. By lunchtime it seems her efforts were paying off as the clinic seemed to slow down a little and she was given the go ahead to return back to her position. 

  As Alex made her way back to the security desk, she couldn't help but feel a wave of exhaustion wash over her. The adrenaline and determination that had fuelled her earlier were slowly waning, replaced by a growing fatigue. She attributed it to the increased workload and the emotional toll of seeing so many sick patients. 

Agent Wilson looked up from his desk as Alex approached, his expression filled with surprise. "You're back already? I thought you'd be stuck over there forever, playing doctor." 

Ignoring his snide remark, Alex mustered a weak smile. "It was a bit chaotic, but we managed to get things under control. The staff appreciated the help." 

Wilson raised an eyebrow, a hint of grudging admiration in his voice. "Well, I guess you're not completely useless after all." 

She huffed, shooting the agent a dirty look, “Look if you’ve got a problem with me, leave it at the door. Don’t bring that attitude into- wor- Hh'iishoo! Huh’tshoo!” She quickly bent to the side to catch her sneezes into cupped hands, sniffling at the feeling of subtle pressure rising in her sinuses. 

“I don’t think that’s hygienic Danvers.” He shook his head, as the agent went to go grab some tissues from a nearby box. 

She sighed, realising that Agent Wilson was somewhat right. Sneezing into her hands wasn't the best practice, especially considering the contagious nature of the flu-like bug going around. She quickly discarded the used tissues into a nearby bin and reached for a hand sanitiser bottle on the security desk, squeezing some onto her palms and rubbing them together. 

"You're right, my bad," Alex admitted, her voice slightly muffled by her stuffed nose.  

Agent Wilson's mocking wavered slightly as he observed Alex's tired appearance or maybe it was the fact that Alex Danvers actually apologised to him, "Wow, an apology from Danvers. You have a fever or something?” 

“Just leave it.” Alex's voice was tinged with exhaustion and frustration. She didn't feel like entertaining Agent Wilson's sudden concern. The fatigue that had settled over her earlier was now accompanied by body aches and a growing headache. She had been so focused on helping at the clinic that she hadn't noticed her own symptoms creeping in. 

As the day progressed, her energy waned, and she found herself struggling to focus. Her body felt heavy, and she was occasionally having to turn away to muffle raspy coughs into her elbow which only led to her throat becoming sore. But she tried to ignore it. She had blamed the AC at first, it was just turned up too high... yeah. That was it. 

But with each passing hour, her condition deteriorated further. The fatigue intensified, making it difficult for her to stand upright. Her head throbbed with every movement, and the touch of a fever began to set in, leaving her feeling alternately hot and cold, as beads of sweat lined her brow all-while chills ran up her arms. 

“Don’t you look healthy.” The male agent had commented snidely the next time Alex had learnt her head back against the wall. 

Alex's patience was wearing thin, and she shot him a glare. "I'm not feeling well, okay? So can you please just lay off with the comments?" Her voice was tinged with irritation and exhaustion before giving in to the burning at the back of her throat as she gave a few chesty sounding coughs into her elbow. 

Agent Wilson seemed taken aback by her response, his mocking demeanour fading momentarily. "Oh... I didn't realise you were actually not feeling good." he mumbled, his tone softening, “Sorry.” 

Unbeknownst to her, a kind-hearted doctor, Dr. K'ora, had been in earshot and had noticed the agents declining condition. She approached her with a warm smile, "Excuse me, Agent Danvers, may I borrow you for a moment?” 

Alex nodded, looking over her shoulder to confirm it was okay with Wilson and he waved her off. She felt a sudden tickle in her nose, a telltale sign that a sneeze was imminent. She quickly turned away, covering her face with her elbow, and let out a series of forceful sneezes. "Huh'kshhoo! Huh-choo! Huh'tshoo!" she sneezed, her body shaking with the force of each. 

Dr. K'ora  gestured towards a nearby tissue box, concern evident in her eyes. "Goodness, bless you. I think it’d be a good idea to let me take a look at you, Agent Danvers. You don't look well at all." The doctor commented as she escorted the agent towards a small side room. 

"Thank you," Alex said weakly, her voice hoarse and barely audible. "I didn't realise I was feeling this bad until now." She reached up to rub her temples, trying to alleviate the pounding headache that had settled in. 

Dr. K'ora placed a gentle hand on Alex's shoulder, her touch comforting. "It's not uncommon for people to push through and ignore their own health when they're focused on helping others," she said kindly. "But it's important to take care of yourself too. Let me check your symptoms and see what's going on." 

Alex nodded, grateful for the doctor's understanding. She sat back in the chair, allowing Dr. K'ora to examine her. The doctor felt her forehead, noting the warmth radiating from her skin, and listened to her lungs with a stethoscope. After a thorough examination, Dr. K'ora stepped back, a concerned expression on her face. 

"I'm sorry to say, Agent Danvers, but it seems you've caught the flu that's been going around," Dr. K'ora explained gently. "Your symptoms—fatigue, headache, body aches, coughing, and sneezing—are all indicative of the flu. It's important that you take some time off and rest." 

Alex's heart sank. She had hoped it was just a passing illness, but it seemed she was in for a rough few days. "I’m sorry, is this going to cause a problem with staffing? My shift isn’t due for end for a few hours yet.” 

Dr. K'ora smiled kindly. "It happens to the best of us. I will inform your superiors and arrange for someone to pick you up. In the meantime, please make yourself comfortable here." 

As the doctor left to inform the necessary personnel, Alex settled into the small room, grateful for the opportunity to rest. She curled up on the examination table, wrapping herself in a blanket provided by the clinic. The fatigue weighed heavily on her, and her body felt achy and weak. 

Time passed slowly as she lay there, her mind wandering through a haze of fever and discomfort. She thought about Maggie and how she would react when she found out. She hoped her girlfriend wouldn't worry too much, knowing that she had a habit of being overprotective. 

As if on cue, a soft knock on the door interrupted Alex's thoughts. She weakly called out, giving permission for the person to enter. To her relief, it was a familiar face—Maggie. Alex's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her girlfriend, a mix of worry and tenderness evident on her face. 

“I heard you weren’t feeling well, poor thing.” She soothed, letting her hand come to rest over the warm forehead of the agent as she came to sit beside her. 

Alex leaned into Maggie's touch, finding solace in her presence. "Hey," she whispered hoarsely, a weak smile gracing her lips. "I didn't expect you to come all the way here." 

Maggie brushed a strand of hair away from Alex's forehead gently. "Of course I would come," she replied softly. "You're not feeling well, and I wanted to be here for you. How are you holding up?" 

Alex let out a weak chuckle, followed by a cough. "I've been better," she admitted. 

"You always put others first, Alex. It's time to let someone take care of you now." Maggie’s voice was filled with concern and affection as she offered her arms out to her girlfriend, pulling her into a warm hug. 

In that moment, Alex realised how lucky she was to have Maggie by her side. She buried her face in Maggie's shoulder, feeling a mix of gratitude and vulnerability wash over her. Maggie's presence provided comfort and reassurance, reminding Alex that she didn't have to face this illness alone. 

As they sat there, wrapped in each other's embrace, Alex's fatigue started to catch up with her. The weight of her eyelids became heavier, and her body begged for rest. Maggie sensed her exhaustion and gently guided Alex to lie down on the examination table, adjusting the blanket to keep her warm. 

"Should we get you home, hm?" Maggie whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "We can stop on the way and pick up some soup from that takeout you like, that might help you feel better. Whatever you need I’m sure we can get it.” 

Alex nodded weakly, her eyes fluttering closed. "That sounds... nice, but what about your pizza?" she murmured, already feeling the pull of sleep tugging at her, “’Mm tired Maggs.” 

“Pizza can wait, what you need is something easy right now. I know you’re tired baby, you can go to sleep in the car alright?” 

“Thanks.” 

Maggie sat by her side, gently stroking Alex's hair, a soft smile on her face. "Always, love. Now, let’s get you home.” 

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[silverynight]

Dead End

<----Previous

Part VIII

He's not sure what's going on, but the next thing he knows is that he's back in his room; Nezuko is with him, arms around him like she doesn't want to let him go. The tears haven't stopped; they're quickly sliding from his eyes, one after the other as he remembers what just happened.

"It's so frustrating!" Tanjirou finally sobs. "I'm so weak! I can't–It shouldn't be like this! People shouldn't die in my place... It's my–"

Before he can finish, Nezuko moves away to start making furious gestures at him.

Don't. It's not your fault.

"It is!" Tanjirou blurts out, so angry with himself. "I'm just hiding here, waiting while other people risk their lives for me! Just my presence alone makes this place dangerous for everyone, for you too! Perhaps if..."

If you leave me here to protect me, if you ever leave without me, I will never forgive you!

Of course her words hurt, Tanjirou thinks as his lips quirk into a soft smile. He puts a hand on her sister's cheek, eyes softening as he thinks about the future. He can live with that; Nezuko hating him would be a small price to pay if it means she and everyone here will be safe.

No. She signs desperately. Stop it, please. I know that face.

"The hashira are here!" Kiyo rushes into the room, looking a little bit pale; Tanjirou wonders if she saw... If she had to help with the body while he was there doing nothing...

All of them? Nezuko gestures quickly, like she's impatient to have them in the estate.

"Most of them."

Bring one here. Anyone.

The girl doesn't even question it, doesn't even wonder why Nezuko looks like she's in a rush.

"Everything will be fine, Nezuko," he assures her with a soft smile. "I'll... I'll stay. But don't mention–"

Don't lie to me. She gestures before putting her arms around him, but this time it's like she's trapping him in her embrace.

"Nezuko–"

"Tanjirou!" Rengoku's voice cuts him off before he gets closer to him, Nezuko quickly moves away so the Pillar can take him in his strong arms him. "Are you alright?"

The boy grimaces. Of course he's fine, he's not the one that died that day. Even though his heart hurts for what happened, he still can't help but feel better when Rengoku starts kissing him all over the face.

He suddenly notices Kocho standing behind the other Pillar as Nezuko uses her hands to tell her everything.

He wants to go. He wants to leave us. He'll die in a few days if he does.

His sister knows him too well. Tanjirou never thought she'll tell the hashira, it means she trusts them all now.

"Nezuko, I won't–"

"Darling," Kocho cuts him off, handing him tea... She's smiling, but Tanjirou knows her well enough to know she's worried. "Drink this, it'll make you feel better. Please."

Tanjirou is too relieved neither Rengoku nor Kocho want to talk about what his sister just told them so he starts drinking without thinking too much about it.

It certainly makes him feel better, more relaxed... Rengoku's arms tighten a little bit around him as his body starts feeling more light with each sip.

He's sleepy now.

"Sweet dreams, my love," Rengoku smiles softly before kissing him on the forehead.

Kocho's fingers rub through his hair before Tanjirou's eyes close and he falls into a peaceful sleep.

***

When he wakes up, he's under the covers and realizes there's no one in the room besides Shinazugawa, who's in the other opposite corner, arms crossed over his chest.

As soon as he notices that Tanjirou is awake, he moves in the blink of an eye to sit on the bed next to him.

"The woman..."

Shinazugawa shakes his head, cupping Tanjirou's face in his scarred hands, surprisingly gentle.

"Let's not talk about that now."

"She died because of me..."

"She died because Kibutsuji sent an assassin," Shinazugawa cuts the boy off.

"One that came looking for me."

"That doesn't make you responsible."

"But–"

"I won't let you leave, you know?" Shinazugawa interrupts him, pressing his lips against the top of his head. "None of us will."

"He'll keep sending people to kill me."

"We'll take care of it," the Pillar assures him, confident.

"More people could die..."

Shinazugawa kisses him on the lips, the kiss is desperate and possessive and Tanjirou can't help surrendering to it.

"I won't lie to you," the man whispers against his lips before moving down his neck. "I don't care. I didn't care when she died."

Tanjirou gasps, before Shinazugawa smiles fondly at him.

"You shouldn't be surprised. You knew about us before you arrived," he mumbles, pressing their foreheads together. "We're not good people. We're not like you, but we love you anyway. I don't care about the others, none of us do. We only care about you and Nezuko because she's your sister..."

He's right, Tanjirou had heard about them before. He knows they're dangerous...

"But that doesn't mean we'll let Kibutsuji's men enter our city again."

"I don't want anything happening to you," Tanjirou mumbles sincerely, prompting Shinazugawa to kiss his hand.

"I know you don't like hearing these kind of things," Kanroji's voice startles him for a moment because he didn't even notice her walking in the room. Shinazugawa on the other hand, doesn't even flinch. "But we'd glady sacrifice our lives for you, darling..."

"Don't, please–"

Shinazugawa rolls his eyes before kissing Tanjirou's neck again.

"That doesn't mean we're not going to fight! You should have more faith in us. Trust our skills."

Tanjirou nods, even though he still doesn't like the idea, but he can't do much at the moment.

***

He knows they have started to investigate about the murder; they go out more often than before, probably trying to hunt the killer down.

Tanjirou knows this and he worries, even though none of them talk about it in front of him. There is even more security at night now and there is at least one hashira at all times in the estate.

Even though she doesn't admit it, Nezuko is tense; she's constantly checking in on her brother and staring at him like she's afraid of him disappearing under her nose.

Tanjirou doesn't like to cause her so much stress, but he also doesn't want her to get hurt because of him; he still thinks the best way to keep everyone safe is for him to get out of the mansion.

But right now he needs help.

"Tokito-san..."

"No," the hashira cuts him off, but turns around immediately like he's truly sorry for saying it as he cups Tanjirou's face in his hands.

"You said if I ever wanted to go–"

"It's different, you know that," Tokito mumbles, leaning closer to give him a quick kiss on the lips. "I offered to help you get out of here in case you didn't want to be with us anymore; Gyomei and I had a plan to leave you somewhere safe. This time I know you just want to sacrifice yourself."

"It's not a sacrifice! I just don't want him to send more assassins here, if he knew I was somewhere else entirely–"

"He'd send them your way but this time there'd be no hashira present to protect you," he mumbles, looking terrified at the mere thought before pressing his lips against Tanjirou's cheek.

"Tokito-san... Please..."

"I know you actually have no idea how difficult it is for us to say No to you," Tomioka startles him for a moment, taking Tanjirou in his arms as he sits on the ground to place him over his lap. "But this time is different."

"We want you to be safe," Tokito cuts in, sitting right next to them so he can take the boy's hand in his.

"Now that we have you we'll do anything not to lose you," Tomioka smiles at Tanjirou, eyes glimmering with so much hope before he buries his face in the curve of his neck.

Tanjirou closes his eyes; they don't understand he doesn't want them to do that, because the thought of them willing to do anything for him is scary. He wants everyone to be safe as well.

***

Next--->

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[harryhartmybeloved]

Spamton G. Spamton x GN reader smut - In the Trash Zone?!?

A/n - This is my first post on here and I’m worried that I’m making a terrible mistake posting a Spamton smut as my first post and if you know me personally, I’m sorry. 

I wrote this in 3rd person too so...

Disclaimer - This was a dare from a friend ://

Summary - Y/n and small boy Spamton have some fun in the trash zone before Kris, Susie and Ralsei arrive.

Warnings - Spamton smut, hand job

503 Words

Spamton moans as Y/n palms him through his white pants. “You like that huh puppet boy?” Spamton begins to moan louder as Y/n starts to lightly traces their pointer finger along the outline of their puppet boyfriends erection.

“AH~ Y/N YOU [[Sexy devil]] STOP TEASING ME-“ he barely finished his sentence before Y/n starts pulling out his dick and stroking it slowly. Y/n was going so slow, it was making him crazy.

He squirms a little as Y/n speeds up their pace.

“That feel nice Spam? You want me to go faster?” Y/n continues stroking Spamton’s dick wildly while the puppet below them starts to stutter out an answer.

“P-P-PLE-ASE…” his speech is broken up, but Y/n can still hear the desperation and neediness in his voice.

“Talk to me Spam. You want me to go faster, or do you want me to stop?” Y/n talks softly to the tiny puppet underneath them.

Spamton could barely hear Y/n’s voice by now, he was too far gone. Although he was bit scared he might lose the pleasure he was speedily gaining but he was also slightly aroused by the fact that his lover could be like they were now.

After not receiving the response Y/n wanted, they abruptly stopped stimulating Spamton all together instead of slowing down.

“WHY DID YOU S-STOP..?” he asks, shivering slightly as the warmth of your hand on his cock is ripped from him.

“Oh darling, you didn’t respond to me. I thought you wanted me to stop…”

“WHA- NO. I-“

“Shh, I understand…” Y/n looks at Spamton with a sad expression painted on their face. They “reluctantly” stood up, attempting to leave the poor salesmen on the ground in the trash zone. Though desperate for more, Spamton moves to grab onto Y/n’s leg as they turn around to leave.

“YOU CAN’T LEAVE [[Without purchasing this item for the low, low price of 129 kromer]]” 

“I’m not sure I want to pay that much for-”

“PLEASE! ITS [[All you’ve ever wanted and more]].”

“Oh alright... come here.” Spamton crawled towards you and hugs your shin for a few minutes until the voices of three young friends enters your ears.

“Dude, this place gives me the creeps...” a purple dinosaur says to its group.

“I’m sure there’s nothing to fear Susie! There wouldn’t be any enemies hiding in the Trash Zone I’m sure of it! Right Kris?” a prince from the dark asks the human child next to it. The child only nods in agreement.

“Woah what the heck is going on with them?” Susie motions to You and Spamton. But mostly Spamton because he still had his pants off.

Then, realisation hits her like a truck.

“REALLY??? IN THE TRASH ZONE?!? DO YOU KNOW HOW UNSANITARY IT IS TO DO IT HERE?!” she yells, shielding both her friends eyes while you peel Spamton away from your shin and push him in the direction his pants are.

“What are you doing Susie? They were just embracing.”

“YEAH, EMBRACING WITHOUT PANTS ON-”

[crimsonbubble]

Biker Boy and His Lady

(warnings: slight 90s au, strangers to lovers au, biker!Wooyoung, fem!reader, waitress!reader, brief moment of sexual harrassment, light suggestive themes, mentions of beer)

*more and taglist after the cut*

note: this fic is the reason why I posted this video beforehand

---

When Wooyoung became a regular at your diner, you felt like the days got brighter. He ignited a spark in you that made you slowly fall for his charms. But you weren't going to give in so easily, you gotta make him work for it. He was notorious for flirting; yet when he met you, you were everything he wanted.

As the regular customer he was, he always walked through the door for a cup of coffee and some pancakes; then come back later in the evening for a few beers with friends. You've met a few of his friends and they've grown quite fond of you. Anyone at the diner could tell just how much you captivate him; he was head over heels for you.

As Wooyoung slowly got to know you, he found himself denying other women who threw themselves onto him; that alone made you fall just that bit deeper in love with him. He knew he wanted you when you didn't give in so easily to his flirty and borderline lame pick up lines. He liked the push and pull, and he wanted more.

---

From the few years you've spent waiting tables, you've never met anyone like Wooyoung. He was good looking, almost too good looking. His easy going nature and flirty attitude made it easier to find yourself infactuated with him. "Well if it isn't the man himself." Another regular had exclaimed as he walked through the door. The bell singing as he pushed open the door. Wooyoung smiled, giving the man a pat on the back as he walked to his usual morning seat by the bar stools.

"Good morning, biker boy." You set down the mug of steaming coffee, tucking a napkin under it. "Good morning, pretty lady." He smiled brightly, sending you a quick wink, making you scoff playfully. "Did you want your usual?" He laughed softly, a bright smile on his face as he leaned forward on his arms. "You always know how to start off my mornings, don't you, sweetheart?" You hummed gently, walking off back into the kitchen to grab the plate you had already set for him.

You brought it out, setting it down in front of him, before walking around the counter to take people's orders. "Enjoy your food, darling." He whistled lowly, a smug smile on his face. "Will do, beauty." You shook your head laughing, before greeting customers at the tables. You took orders quickly, bringing them back to the kitchen. You went to walk back out to take more orders, before being called. "Hey, can I get a refill on my coffee please?" You stopped one of your coworkers, gesturing to the table behind her.

"Can you take the order for table 4 while I refill his coffee." She nodded, walking back out to the table with a gentle smile. You carried the coffee pot to the man, taking the five off the table before filling his cup. As you went to step away and head to the kitchen, the man sitting beside you decided to slap your ass. You jolted, nearly dropping the coffee pot. "Honey, I have a steaming pot of coffee in my hands and if you don't want to end up with third degree burns, I suggest you pay and leave right now."

The man scoffed, pushing a five into your outstretched hand. You stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "The full price, not just the coffee." The other workers and customers watched in awe at how the man quickly shoved a twenty into your hand before scurrying off. The diner burst into loud cheers and claps, making you step back in surprise. "Alright alright, settle down now folks. Finish eating your breakfasts please."

The cheering quieted down, yet the chatter between people was as bustling as ever. You walked to the counter picking up the mans dishes and bringing them behind the counter, setting the coffee pot down before making your way into the kitchen again. "I gotta say, that was pretty cool." You laughed along with the others before nudging them back to work. "Alright, let's focus here, we can talk after work."

---

Wooyoung had left shortly after you came back out, sliding you a ten before hurrying off to god knows where but not before saying how hot you looked telling off that guy. You took his plate into the kitchen, placing it by the sink before letting out a tired sigh. You plastered on a smile as you walked back out greeting new customers and leading them to open tables.

---

The work day had gone by and the busy bustling of the diner was now nearly empty and a lot quieter. "You can close up for me, right?" You asked one of your coworkers who smiled and nodded. "I know where the keys are, go and enjoy your weekend, sugar." You gave her a quick hug, waving to the others as you slung your bag over your shoulder. "I'll see y'all on Monday."

As you stepped out of the diner, a voice called out to you. "Need a lift, pretty lady?" You turned to the voice, visibly relaxing when you see who it was. "And what makes you think I do?" You quirked an eyebrow, smiling softly at how he laughed. "Come on, I know you want to ride it." Wooyoung held an infamous smug smirk, leaning forward on his bike. "Whether you're talking about you or your bike is the question." You walked over to him, leaning closer to him just enough to brush your lips over his. "And my answer is yes."

Wooyoung grinned softly, tilting his head to the head with a light giggle. "If I kissed you right now, would your answer still be yes?" Your eyes were hazy as you looked into his. "Kiss me and find out." Wooyoung pushed forward that small bit to slot your lips together, letting out a soft sigh. You pulled him even closer by his neck, moving your hand over to cup his face. You smiled into the kiss, making Wooyoung smile as well. You both pulled away with smiles on your faces, your cheeks feeling too hot after that kiss. "So, about that bike ride.."

Wooyoung patted the seat behind him, scooting forward to make proper room for you. A sudden breeze made you shiver lightly, the small movement not going unnoticed by Wooyoung. Wooyoung shrugged his jacket off, pulling you to his side to give it to you. You went to argue but he had turned you around and slugged it over your frame. "You're cold and I'm not gonna let my pretty lady get sick." You laughed at his words, turning on your heels to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Wooyoung."

He smiled gently, planting another kiss to your lips before motioning behind him. You swung a leg over his bike, adjusting yourself behind him. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your cheek against his back. Wooyoung nearly freaked out as you tightened your grip on him, starting his bike before he could let you see how flustered he was. He drive off into the night, a small smile on his face as he felt you drawing circles on his stomach.

He couldn't ask for someone better, he wanted you and only you. You became the sole reason he wanted to get up in the morning. You became his sun and in return he became your moon. Showing you the way when you thought you were lost. Guiding you through the night to escape the world of harsh realities.

He was the biker boy and you were his lady.

---

@a-soft-hornytiny @berryberry-joongie @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @hanatiny @hyetiny @multidreams-and-desires @minhyukmyluv @serialee @strawberry-joong @woowommy @yungisstar1117 @yunhofingers @yunhospuppy @yunsangoveryonder

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥

Hi everyone! As promised, here’s one of the two most voted fic continuations. There will be more chapters to this story though I'm not sure how many yet. Thank you for reading!

warnings: sugar daddy jae, mentions of injuries and hospitals, language.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv

Sugar rush m.list.

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

Where did everything go wrong?

Your string of thoughts was cut off by a call from your aunt.

Your string of thoughts was cut off by a call from your aunt.

“Hello?” Your voice was raspy from not using it. There was no one to talk to in the quiet, hospital room but the nurses, who weren't especially keen on chatting.

“How’s your dad, sweetie?”

“They let him out of ICU, but he doesn't look good to me.” Your fingers traced the cuts in his chiseled cheeks that would soon turn into scars, ruining his perfect skin. Your eyes then diverted to his head, thoroughly covered in bandages to protect his damaged skull.

“Honey, I've got bad news...”

“They rejected the case, didn't they?”

“Not precisely.” She deeply inhaled before continuing. “It’s a tough case, almost impossible to win, nonetheless, they're willing to take it. But their fee is a little...”

“Expensive.”

“Yes.”

As expected from the best firm in town, they wouldn't take less than $8,000. Your bank account didn't have enough money to even cover half of it, and with your job at the convenience store, you'd only earn so much to cover your expenses.

“We can take the lawyer that the government provides us with, it would be free.”

“But then I'm sure we’d lose.” You groaned in frustration, using your free hand to rub your forehead. “Don’t worry, I'll find a way to get the money.”

“Why don't we just accept the compensation they're offering? It could pay for the hospital bills and you'd still have some left to pay for your tuition.”

“That would be like putting a price on my father's life. I don't want their money, I want them to make themselves responsible for what they've caused.” The sound of wheels approached the door of your father's room, signaling the nurse was outside with his meds. “It’s okay, Auntie, I'll take care of everything. You can go back home, I know my uncle isn't doing so well.”

“Are you sure, darling?” It was undeniable that she wanted to head back to her little ranch fat away from the hectic city life to take care of her sick husband, but still, her brother was laying down on a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

“Yes, I'm an adult, I'll find a way.”

“Take care of yourself, and don't hesitate to call me if you're having any difficulties. I'll be there in the blink of an eye.” She said before sending a kiss into the speaker, proceeding to hang up.

You sighed. It was never usual for you to ask for help, as you were an extremely prideful and independent person, and you doubted this time would be different.

“Don’t worry, dad. Everything will be alright.”

Three failed job interviews and one more to go. Your feet were killing you, the high heels covering them already worn out from walking to avoid taking the bus. Every penny counted, and as long as your legs worked, you weren't spending any more money than what was necessary.

You sat down in the waiting room of the company, massaging your neck to relieve some tension. College was becoming a burden. Maybe you'd take a semester off to focus on working, that is if someone wanted to hire an inexperienced student.

“Y/n, Y/l/n?”

“Here.” You darted up, gathering your belongings to enter the room on which your life almost literally depended.

You gave all the right answers, earning a polite ‘we’ll contact you’ in return. But you could see that they weren't convinced with your lack of experience, no company in their right mind would be.

As soon as you arrived at your apartment, you slid out of the uncomfortable pencil skirt, tucking yourself under the covers with your phone screen almost hitting your nose.

To take your mind off things, you decided to watch some videos. Halfway in, an ad popped up, interrupting the interior deco video you were watching.

A picture of a girl about your age hugging an older man was right in the middle of your screen. Written with fancy letters, the words ‘make your life simpler’ could be read, followed by what you guessed was the title of the app. Sugar rush.

Out of pure curiosity, your finger tapped at the small icon that led to the app store, absentmindedly clicking the download button. A few seconds later, an icon with the letters ‘SR’ was added to your home screen.

“Log in?” You murmured out loud, squinting your eyes to adjust your eyes to the bright, white homepage.

Just as you were about to click out, the phrase from the ad reappeared, stopping your finger from moving any further.

You could always delete your account if something went wrong, right? Nonetheless, you decided to use a false name, and that's how Melanie Kim’s profile was created. You left the circle of your profile picture empty for now, only filling the spaces that asked about your likes, dislikes, age, and all that stuff that people care about so much.

You knew what the app was for, but that didn't stop you from being surprised when a list of men and women of different ages greeted you. Right then, a small rectangle obstructed your sight, two buttons offering opposite things.

‘Pick the role you'd like to develop.’

Sugar daddy/mommy / Sugar baby.

Clearly, you didn’t have nor the money or the years to be the first, so you clicked the opposite button without giving it more thought.

‘Welcome. You've been registered as a sugar baby at Sugar rush. Meet thousands of men and women willing to finance you for free!’

You hummed.

‘As we're always looking to make our users’ experience better, we've developed Sugar Rush premium, a membership to meet the richest and hottest people in your surroundings. Get the premium version for only $5.95 a month. Click here to get Sugar Rush premium.’

Your finger pad was dangerously close to the blue button, almost grazing the screen of the phone. It was then when you were pulled out of your trance, blinking as if just then you'd realized what you were doing.

“I must be crazy.” You turned off your phone, not bothering to turn on an alarm for the next day. You had no interviews left. You had nowhere to go.

Waking up was getting harder with every passing day. Not being able to call your dad to go out for breakfast or even sending a simple good morning message hurt you deeply. You missed him. But seeing him laying down on a hospital bed, unable to do anything by himself, was even worse.

Ding

A notification filled the silence in your room.

‘Come back, you haven't finished setting up your account yet!’

You scoffed at your past self. What were you even thinking when you downloaded the app?

You simply turned off the phone before standing up to take a relaxing shower. As the water soaked up your tense body, your mind started wandering off back to the app. A million what-ifs filled your head, nonetheless, there was one that remained the most persistent.

‘What if this can pay for a lawyer?’

Your part-time job surely couldn't, and you had no one to assist you financially speaking. The whole idea of paying that ridiculous membership seemed more tempting as your fingers started getting wrinkly under the showerhead.

You decided to take some time to consider it, after all, you still had a week to give the lawyers an answer.

Hot soup seemed like a good option to comfort you, and thankfully, there was a store right in front of your place that claimed to sell the best soups in town.

It wasn't bad, but not nearly as good as the one your dad cooked when you were a kid. You sighed, wondering if you'd ever be able to eat it again. Just then, a woman about your age came into the shop, carrying a couple of bags where names of popular brands could be read. A pinch of jealousy made your heart stir as you glanced at yourself through the reflection in the glass at your side. You looked devastated, your skin pale and your cheekbones slightly sunken, a sign of the lack of rest and food you'd been getting.

Out of pure impulse, you pulled out your phone, clicked on the app you'd recently downloaded, and finally accepted the charges for a premium membership.

‘Welcome, new member of our wide community, click ok to get started!’

Well, no turning back now.

Right after pressing the blue letters with your thumb, you were presented with a list of potential prospects, some of them including pictures, some of them only including name and a brief description of what they were looking for. The minority included their ages, but most left the space blank.

A bunch of old men looking for a youthful, pretty woman to be by their sides, some of them even went as far as writing the weight and height their ideal partner should have. Of course, there were also some women in the look for young meat, but the number of men overpassed them.

About to exit the app in defeat, a profile caught your eye. His pale pink hair was parted, allowing his thick eyebrows to stand out. His high cheekbones made him look like a statue, the details in his face almost too perfect for a mere human. He must be the incarnation of a Greek God, you thought.

‘Jung Yoonoh. 41 years old. Owner of N & C.’

“Should I...?” You asked yourself in a voice lower than a whisper.

He has probably gotten hundreds of messages, so what would be the point of sending one yourself? Your eyes scanned the picture over and over again as the remains of your soup started getting cold.

He was probably the only acceptable man in the whole app, so why not give it a try?

You already spent five whole dollars on it, might as well make it worth the money.

‘Hi.’ Sent.

“Holy crap.” You breathed out, regretting every single action that led you to take such a stupid decision. “Ah!” You squeaked as three small dots appeared beside his profile picture, signaling he was writing a reply.

What if he rejected you right from the beginning? God, that would be so humiliating. His message stopped your train of thought.

‘Hi!’

Followed by:

‘How are you?’

Sweating like a pig, thank you for asking.

‘Fine. You?’ Read.

‘Thrilled. No one had messaged me since I created my account two weeks ago.’

‘How is that possible?’ You imprinted your thoughts on a message.

‘It’s hard to trust people nowadays. I guess people might think either my picture is photoshopped or I'm lying about my job.’

‘Their loss, ig.’ Read.

He was taking some time to answer. Had you said something inappropriate?

‘Hahaha.’

The conversation stopped there, as you didn't know how exactly to answer his message. But a few minutes later, another text from him popped up at your chat.

‘If you're okay with it, we can start talking about a possible arrangement.’

Already? You've known each other for like five minutes. But then again, arrangements were the whole purpose of the app.

‘Sure.’

‘May I ask your reasons for joining the app?’

‘I need urgent money, but my job doesn't pay nearly enough.’ You omitted the part of your agonizing father, he didn't need to know that. ‘And you?’

‘I need someone to be my partner at public spaces.’

‘Alright.’ Read.

‘Do you happen to have some free time tomorrow at lunchtime? I think it’d be better to meet first before making any decisions.’

‘Yeah, I'm free.’

‘Great, I’ll send you the address.’

You thought a day would be enough to prepare yourself, but time passed by quicker than usual, and soon enough, it was time to get ready for your meeting with Mr. Jung. He was only a few years younger than your father, and calling him by his first name wouldn't feel right.

Unsure if you should wear something formal, you threw on a beige (the color you'd agreed on wearing so it’d be easier to recognize each other) summer dress, pairing it with the gold hoops you'd inherited from your grandma to make it look more elegant.

The hardest part of your routine was makeup. Your sunken cheeks couldn't be covered, and only after a few layers of blush and highlighter, you could bring your skin back to life.

On your way to the cafe, you went through the things you'd say when you met him. It was your chance to get your father what he needed.

You stood at the entrance with wide, scared eyes, shyly scanning through the place to look for your date.

“Melanie?” A hand on your shoulder had you jolting. “I’m Jung Yoonoh, nice to meet you.”

What you saw after turning around was breathtaking. A handsome, healthy man, with the most beautiful pair of dimples.

“Nice to meet you.” You managed to blurt out without stuttering, extending your hand to make the greeting more formal. The fake name didn’t seem necessary anymore. “It’s actually y/n, I didn't want to use my real name.”

“I understand. Let’s take a seat.” He offered with a kind smile.

He left you seating at the terrace while he made your order, a latte, and a chocolate cookie. Your fingers played with your hoops anxiously, trying to regulate your breath.

“They’ll bring our food in just a sec.” He offered a warm smile. “Your dress is pretty.” Yoonoh said out of nowhere.

“Thank you.”

“I see you're not a chatty person.” You were about to object, but he started speaking again. “It's not a bad thing! I usually talk a lot, so it’s a nice way to balance things.”

You nodded, seemingly uncomfortable with the man sitting in front of you.

“So, uhm, this is my first time doing this, so I'm not really sure where to begin.” He pulled out a folded paper from the front pocket of his dressing pants. “It’s a bit creased, but I can always print another one. I brought it so you could take a look and let me know if you wanted to change anything. I don't mean to pressure you, but you said it was urgent, so...”

You read the paper under his attentive gaze, making sure not to miss a single word. Everything seemed correct, except...

“Six months?”

“Is that too much?” A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, a sign of deep concentration. “Okay, so let's do this instead.”

He took back the contract, pulling out a pen from the pocket in his dressing shirt to correct the original stipulations.

“Four months, and if by the end of them you don't absolutely hate me, we can extend the time. Deal?”

“Just one more thing.”

You cleared your throat, conscious that your following words might jeopardize the whole arrangement.

“Are you sure you want to make it official already?” You had to stop for a moment as the waiter left your orders on top of the wooden table. “I mean, it's not that I have a problem with it, but it's your money and maybe you'd like to give it a better thought.” You resumed.

“The fact that you're concerned about me proves I'm making the right choice. Now, tell me, how much would you like to receive as a weekly allowance?”

Would it be too reckless to ask him straight up for the $8,000?

“H-how much are you willing to give me?” You felt dirty, accepting a stranger’s money like that.

“Whatever you need.” His hand suddenly reached forward to yours, causing every ounce of blood in your body to rush to your face. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, I'm here to help you.” His voice tone dropped, acquiring an almost soothing feeling.

“I need eight thousand by Thursday, next week.” His eyes were wide open, mouth having difficulties remaining closed. “I-I know it's too much, but...”

“I can find a way to give you that money, but I'd like to know the reason why you need it. Just to make sure it's nothing illegal.”

You puffed your cheeks, trying to find an excuse good enough to justify the amount of money you were asking for.

“It isn’t illegal, is it?”

“No!” You retrieved your hand from below his, now embarrassed at the possibility of him having a bad image of you. “I need it for my father.”

“I suppose you don't want to talk about it.” He started at his palm, lips pressed in a thin life. “But when it comes to arrangements like this, we need to trust each other, alright?” You barely knew each other, yet, he demanded to know a very personal detail of your life. Not that he didn't have a good reason for wanting to know, it wasn't a particularly small amount of money.

“He had an accident at work...” You started, fearful of looking up to find pity in his eyes. “I need a lawyer to make his company legally responsible. They intend to throw it under the rug and pay a somewhat decent amount of money to make it go away. The firm I intend to hire is supposedly the best in town, probably my only chance of getting justice.”

“And why don't you just accept it? There's no guarantee that your lawyer will win the case.” You fisted the delicate fabric of your dress, eyes watering as you tried to hold back your anger.

“My father’s life is priceless, and if you think what I'm doing is a waste of money, then fine, we can both look for someone else to help us.” It sounded more aggressive than you'd first intended, but you meant every word that came out of your mouth.

Before you could even stand up, his slim fingers had already wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“I never said that.” He whispered with an almost sad tone. “Come on, sit down.”

He tugged at your arm the slightest, showing off his charming dimples once again.

“I’ll give you the money on one condition...” He raised one of his thick eyebrows. “I’ll go with you to see the lawyer.”

“Why...?”

“That’s my condition, take it or leave it.”

“Okay.”

The days before your meeting with your potential lawyer were nerve-wracking. You'd seen Yoonoh another time to sign the contract, which finally made your arrangement official.

You’d visit your father every day, always hoping he'd be sitting with his arms wide open, ready to hug you. But nothing had changed ever since he first came into that room.

“I’m here to see Mr. Kim.” The secretary's gaze lingered on Jaehyun a few seconds before he finally snapped out of it. “Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Just a second.” He opened his agenda and quickly found your appointment. With a warm smile, he guided you through the corridors of the building, all the way to the elevator. “It’s the only office on the last floor, I'll be at my desk if you need anything.”

Once again, he shot Jae an uneasy glance before the metal doors slid close.

“What was all that?” To be honest, you couldn't care less. But a small chat might calm your nerves and prevent you from throwing up all over the place.

“What do you mean?” He grinned, pressing the button to the top floor.

“You know what I mean.” You scoffed, annoyed at his evasive behavior.

“We just happen to know each other, nothing special.” Before the conversation could continue, a loud ding resonated through the metal cubicle. “Let’s go.” His hand found its place at the small of your back, pushing you towards the glass door. Through it, you could see a black-haired man reading a pile of documents, occasionally raising a photo to examine it with his gold-rimmed glasses supported at the bridge of his elegant nose.

Jaehyun extended his arm over your shoulder to knock on the door, earning an almost annoyed ‘come in’ from the man inside.

“Let’s go.” Once again invading your personal space, he reached for the doorknob with you trapped between his arms.

As soon as the door opened, the man raised his eyes from the documents he was checking.

“What are you doing here, Jung?”

“I knew something was off...” You murmured, loud enough for the man at your side to chuckle.

“I brought you a client, you should be happy.”

“Miss y/n, I suppose. Have a seat.” His demeanor completely changed while speaking directly to you. “I spoke with your aunt last week, she explained the details of the lawsuit, but I must say, it isn't an easy case.”

“I know that, but I've been told you're the best firm in town, I know I'll have more possibilities of winning if you're my lawyer.”

“Best firm in town my ass.”

“Be silent or I’ll kick you out of the building.”

That was enough for Yoonoh to zip his mouth. For a while at least.

“I suppose she also told you about our fee.” He pushed his glasses up using his thumb. “We’d also keep 25% of the lawsuit money assuming we win the case, is that okay with you?”

“Yes-”

“Okay, stop.”

“I’ll call security, Jung.”

“Look at me, y/n.” He squeezed your arms. “This clown is trying to scam you...” He pointed his finger at the lawyer without breaking eye contact. “You’d be spending loads of money for someone who isn't even confident in his abilities. It isn't worth it.”

“And I suppose you'd do better than me, then.” The black-haired man scoffed. “If that's the case, then you can both leave. I'm quite busy at the moment.” With a turn of his wrist, he signaled you to leave the room.

You were fuming, stomping out of the building with Jaehyun right behind you.

“I found a great restaurant nearby, we can go there and-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you just fucked up my only chance to give those bastards what they deserve.” The sun was starting to set, yellow light casting shadows over his tender cheeks.

“Can you listen to me for a second?”

“Are you laughing right now?” You bit your lip, hard, trying to hold back the tsunami of tears threatening to come out of your eyes. “Asshole.”

“Ouch.” He furrowed his eyebrows mockingly. Oh, how close you were to punch that pretty face of his. “Can I explain now?”

You remained silent, staring at the ground with the smallest frown between your eyebrows.

“How do you think I know Kim Doyoung?” Before even giving you a chance to answer, he continued. “That son of a bitch has been stealing my clients for ages.”

“Your clients...?”

“He isn't even that good of a lawyer compared to me.” He scoffed with fake arrogance.

“You're a lawyer?!” You slammed your palms into your face, whining at the newly acquired information. “Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?”

“Just wanted to swing by and annoy him a bit. Don't worry, I wasn't gonna let you accept his deal.” He winked playfully.

The sun was now hidden, the sky darkening as the moon rose to take its shift.

“Though I gotta say, I'm kinda offended I wasn't even an option. I'm a pretty great lawyer, you know?”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you if you join me for dinner. What do you say?”

As you walked into the darkness of the streets, his shoulder occasionally bumping yours, you wondered if meeting him was a casualty. Maybe the world was finally smiling at you.

[ventismommy]

AAAAA IMMSO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG BUT HERE IS CALL MY BY YOUR NAME PT 3 FT AWKWARD SHY ZHONGLI

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME, PT 3- ZHONGLI

The seats around the man in the qipao style dress were nearly full, but you managed to shove your way to an empty one in the front, ignoring the little “reserved“ sign in front of the row.

His movements were so graceful- but unlike the woman in red’s confident, showy moves, or the cheeky, faux innocent moves of the boy with blue braids, they had an understated elegance to them, a strange quality that made it seem as if he had been doing this for decades. And something about that made you want him badly. You needed to have him, needed to know if he could live up to the expectations.

So the next time he paused between songs, you laid a gentle, soft hand on his exposed thigh.

“How much does a girl have to pay for a private show, Mr...?”

His amber eyes were lit up with interest now, and he silently slid off of the platform, sidling up to you. And oh, his voice when he answered- so composed, so deep and sultry.

“Zhongli. Mr. Zhongli. I usually charge around 1000 Mora. Is this agreeable?”

Of course it was- you’d expected his prices to be far higher, if you were honest.

“1000 is no problem for me, darling. Who do I pay? Or perhaps...”

Maintaining that eye contact, you took two 500 Mora bills out of your wallet and slowly slid your hand up his bare thigh, underneath the impossibly short skirt of his outfit, letting your nails graze softly over his skin. He gasped quietly, but acted as if nothing had happened. You found the band of his no doubt skimpy panties and slipped the bills into it, shooting him a confident wink, and he shivered.

Shivered. Oh, this was gonna be fun.

Hurriedly taking your hand, he started to lead you towards the back rooms, pulling the two of you through velvet curtains and into one of the private rooms. The lighting of the room was dim and golden-toned, and it made his skin shine like pure amber. Just when you thought he couldn’t get any more enticing.

He walked over to a music player and hit a button, and slow, sultry music came out of the speakers, setting the tone almost as well as the coy look in his eyes.

Zhongli approached you almost shyly, throwing a leg over your lap and settling himself in it as you leaned back against the back of the couch. Your hands instinctively went to his thighs- and, remembering the way he’d reacted when you scraped your fingernails over the inside of his thighs, you dug those fingernails into the soft flesh.

And it almost makes your jaw drop when he lets out another tiny gasp, and involuntarily grinds forward into you a bit.

You chuckle and reach a hand up to tip his chin towards you, making him look at you while you let your eyes wander. “So responsive...” you murmur, and even under the dim light you notice the blush creeping across his cheeks. “I wonder just what this private show entails.”

“Anything you want,” he answers, too quickly, too breathlessly, and the desperation is clear. You only smirk at him, leaning into his ear and nipping at his neck before whispering to him, tapping his outfit.

“And what if what I want is this off and you spread out on this couch for me?”

And he fucking moans.

It’s a small little moan, accompanied by a needy roll of his hips, but it’s definitely noticeable, and you chuckle again, the hands on his thighs wandering upwards slowly. “Answer me, darling~”

“Y-Yes-“

“Good boy,” you cooed at him, sliding a hand underneath his dress to palm his bulge. Zhongli moaned breathlessly, bucking into the blissful pressure of your hand, already half hard just from the things you’d said to him and the way your fingernails dug into his thigh earlier. You tried to sync your hand with the needy movements of his hips- god, all you wanted was too see him fall apart- and oh, was it worth it, because with another harsh press of your hand you get the first whimper of the evening.

And you are determined to hear it again.

So you waste no time in grabbing his hips and flipping the both of you with surprising strength- though he wasn’t exactly going against your movements, anything but. He eagerly squirmed on the couch and spread his thighs for you, staring at you with those coy eyes. You tsked condescendingly at him, but that only seemed to spur him on, especially with the little shudders he gave as you ran your hands up the insides of his thighs, flipping up his skirt. Just as you suspected, his panties are skimpy black lace, and he’s already hard. He whined impatiently at you.

“Please-“

You only shush him softly, rubbing his hip soothingly as you pull off his panties, discarding them. The hand that was rubbing his hip slips up to his mouth, and it only takes one look from you to get him to take your fingers into his mouth, holding onto your wrist as his tongue slides over your skin.

Your other hand snuck up to wrap around his cock, and he keened as it slid up and down the first time, shuddering underneath you, taking your fingers out of his mouth to speak breathlessly. “O-Oh- do that again, please-“

You obliged happily, smirking at him as you pulled your fingers away from his mouth. He squirmed as he watched that spit-soaked hand travel between his thighs, but he can’t watch any longer when it circles his hole, his eyes fluttering shut and his hips rolling unconsciously. Every sound that leaves his mouth is breathless besides the sinful, broken whine when you press those fingers into him, slowly and carefully curling them until you hit that spot and he squeals in pleasure.

You gently worked him open as your other hand stroked his cock in time with the thrusts of your fingers. The ponytail his hair was gathered into was messy and loose now, only getting worse every time he threw his head back against the couch, so you leaned over...and grabbed the ribbon tying it with your teeth, pulling the bow undone and flicking your head to toss the ribbon away. Zhongli watched you with barely open eyes, transfixed by the dominance you exuded, but his attention was soon brought back to your hands between his thighs when you quickened your pace, angling your fingers to hit his prostate each time.

His hair spread like a halo over the velvet cushions of the couch, and his amber eyes were half-open, hazy with pleasure. His back arched sharply, pushing his hips into the hand wrapped around his leaking cock, and he let out a whine that sounded almost as heavenly (and dirty) as the slick sounds of you pumping in and out of him. Each thrust had him squirming against the couch, his hand gripping your forearm for something to hold onto, and oh, he was beautiful. Especially when he begged.

“M-More...please!”

You only laughed softly at him, picking up your pace again and delighting in the broken sounds coming out of his mouth. “Awww. Close already? You must have been really needy, huh~”

He only whined louder at that, desperately bucking his hips into your hands, unsure whether to chase the friction of your hand around his cock or the delicious sensation of your fingers hitting that perfect spot. “Y-Ye-s- nng, please, m-more, I wanna c-cum-“

“Alright, darling.” You said simply, quickening your pace, determined to push him over the edge. And by the way his back arched and his body twisted in pleasure, it wouldn’t take long.

Indeed it didn’t- it was only a few moments before he was letting out a high pitched whimper and cumming all over your hand. His breathing started to calm once you’d worked him through that orgasm, and he stared up at you with heavily lidded eyes, noticing your hand was still covered with his cum. And then, he watched you bring that hand up to your mouth and clean it with your tongue, and he was moaning again, shifting in his place. You chuckled.

“Round two?”

[darkverrmin]

1, 4, 6, 11, 14, 15, 17, 27, 33, 36, 42, 45, 46, 47, 50 .For the kiss prompt with Geraskier ... umm ... is this too many? lol I'm sorry, I tried so hard not to put down every number, this is what my restraint got me. Please pick whichever one (or more than one if I'm lucky XD) that makes your muse sing <3

Your ask really made me smile 😆❤️ I chose (1) and (14)!

1. Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

14. A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

****

Jaskier paced nervously around the room, glancing out of the window every couple of minutes.

It’s been almost four months since he and Geralt last seen each other, and Jaskier had missed him so badly. Jaskier missed Geralt every year, when they parted for the winter.

But this year it was a bit different.

After confessing their feelings for each other, he and Geralt had barely two weeks of sharing breathless giggles between kisses and holding each other, before they had to part ways. Geralt was almost about to join Jaskier on his trip to visit his parents (Jaskier’s father fell ill at that time), when Jaskier insisted on Geralt going to visit his own family. Jaskier knew how much Geralt wanted to see his brothers and Vesemir. 

And although he knew he’d miss him terribly, four months was a small price to pay for his Witcher’s happiness. 

And there he was. Pacing around the room he rented at the inn Geralt and he agreed to meet at when spring comes.

Just as Jaskier managed to sit down and try to focus on writing his latest song, a familiar voice coming from the outside caught his ear.

Lambert.

Jaskier rushed to the window, gazing down at the street outside. His breath hitched in his throat. 

Standing beside the stables, there they were. Lambert was talking heatedly to Eskel about something, waving his hands in the air. Geralt was loading his bags off of Roach, glancing at his younger brother with an amused smile.

Jaskier’s heart started hammering in his chest. His hands begun to sweat as he rushed out of the room and went down the stairs, two steps at a time. Once he was outside, Jaskier froze by the door, staring at the three men.

He took a moment to gaze at Geralt, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading itself in his chest and belly. He looks beautiful, Jaskier thought. His hair was slightly longer and he grew a small beard, which really suited him. He was wearing a short-sleeved, dark-grey shirt, the one Jaskier confessed to him about that he really liked. Jaskier smiled to himself, realizing that Geralt probably wore that shirt on purpose today. 

Gulping quietly, he started slowly approaching the three men, not knowing what to do with his hands. How should he greet them? Should he just give Geralt a hug, or should he also kiss him? Would Geralt be okay with Jaskier kissing him in front of his brothers? Do they even know about their relationsh-

“Jaskier!” Eskel cried, waving at him. “It’s great to see you! You were deeply missed during the winter. How’s your father? Geralt told us he had fallen ill”.

Jaskier returned Eskel’s smile. “Thank you, he’s doing alright. It was just a bad cold. How was yo-”.

Before Jaskier could finish his question, he was crushed between two muscular arms and pulled against a broad chest. Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s soft hair, inhaling, before moving down to catch his lips in a deep kiss. “I missed you,” Geralt whispered in a low voice, placing another kiss onto the tip of Jaskier’s nose, causing the other man to grin. “Been dreaming of this moment for weeks”.

Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, pulling him into another passionate kiss. “I missed you too, darling. I love the beard, by the way. Suits you well”.

“Hmm,” Geralt smiled in return, moving to kiss the corner of Jaskier’s mouth, his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead. “You look good as always”. Geralt tightened his embrace around the other man’s waist, as he continued littering small kiss all over his face.

“You’re tickling me,” Jaskier chuckled, but didn’t make an attempt to move away from Geralt’s embrace. He was still a little shocked by Geralt expressing his emotions like this, but he could definitely get used to it.

“Oh, and congratulations on that.” Eskel called, giving them a warm smile. “I’m happy you two finally got a hold of a single braincell”.

“One can argue about that,” Lambert muttered, not unkindly. “Can you idiots take this up to your room, after we eat? I’m fucking starving”.

Geralt rolled his eyes, chuckling, and pulled Jaskier into another kiss. This kiss was deeper than the previous ones, and Jaskier sighed quietly as he buried his hands in Geralt’s hair.

“Gross,” Lambert called, pulling a smiling Eskel after him. “I’m stealing your coin to buy myself dinner”.

Geralt couldn’t give a damn at that moment. He squeezed Jaskier’s waist and smiled in return, when he felt Jaskier smiling against his lips.

[azritesx3]

First Real Friend - LM & F!Reader

Description: These common white sterile walls just became a bit brighter, thanks to the Devil.

Rating: G

Warnings: None

AN: A request from a friend of a friend! Hope you feel better soon, darling! Hospitals ain't no fun! Hopefully this 'lil Lucifer fic helps you out! PS: Sorry it’s so late!!!

Request: “...something fluffy, like the reader is in the hospital and she basically lives there because of a long term illness...Lucifer comes into her room by mistake once, while looking for Chloe’s room...he looks around and sees personal items in reader’s room and realizes she’s been there for quite a while, alone, her family isn’t great, and to her surprise he starts coming everyday. He brings her little gifts and sneaks in her favorite food, and basically he just makes her feel like someone cares about, but he learns that her own family doesn’t even come to see her.”

AO3 /// Wattpad

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

Lucifer strolls through the hospital doors with a large bouquet of various flowers and a confident smile on his face. He feels...good. He's never had a feeling like this before, though he supposes saving a human life would be fairly different than any erratic drug or sex. This is a soul after all, and he's just so used to torturing and using souls.

He strolls down the halls and opens the door he was looking for--

And stops.

He's not in the Detective's room, that's for sure. Her room is a plain old boring hospital room. The room he's currently standing in the doorframe of almost looks like a normal bedroom.

The patient of the room looks up from their position on a large bean bag. She cocks an eyebrow up and marks the page she left on in her book with her finger:

"Wrong room?"

"Uh…" Lucifer is baffled for a quick moment before regaining his composure, "Yes! Terribly sorry!"

The patient smiles and returns to her book, which Lucifer takes as his leave. The next room he opens is the correct one this time. He places his superior flowers with the rest of the others, then sits in the uncomfortable metal chair next to the Detective's bed side.

Lucifer watches the Detective's peaceful sleeping face, thinking back on the short time they spent together. Soon the Detective stirs awake, the two have a short talk, and Lucifer leaves before catching a serious case of IBS at the family scene playing before him. 

Before leaving the hospital he stops for a minute in front of the mysterious patient's room that he intruded upon. He peeks through the slightly open blinds, taking in once more a room that looks more like a well lived in bedroom than a hospital room. He spots the patient now on her bed, sleeping. Peaceful...but…

"Hmm…"

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

Three days later

You sit at your mini dining table, eating a hearty breakfast while watching some game show entertainment. Your hospital door opens while in the middle of a bite. You look up and stop chewing at the sight of the same strange man that opened your door by mistake a few days ago.

"Lost again, pal?" You ask after swallowing. Your face has an amused look again like before.

"No. I'm here to see you, in fact." The British man smiles, holding a similar looking bouquet as he had days ago. 

"Um," You're not sure what to think, "Why?"

The man huffs a laugh before strolling into the room, shutting the door behind him, "You've been on my mind for the past couple days, darling. Curiosity catches the Devil."

He places his flowers on top of a small dresser of yours nearest the window, then comes to stand next to you. He holds out his hand and smiles down at you, "Lucifer Morningstar, a pleasure."

You shake his warm hand with a smile of your own and introduce yourself. You motion to the chair across from you and he sits, "So, why is lil old me on your mind Mr. Morningstar?"

"Lucifer is fine, darling." He folds his hands together on your little eating table, "I've never seen a hospital room look like a bedroom before. Makes me think that you've been here for quite a while, and that's such a shame for such a beautiful young woman."

You sigh, like this is some kind of usual nuance for you, "Alright. Just tell me what article you're for and I'll answer your questions."

"Pardon?" Lucifer asks, confused.

"Your article?" You say pointedly, "Or whichever company my adoptive parents are trying to get in the good graces with?" When Lucifer continues to look at you puzzled, you stare at him quizzically, "That...is why you're really here isn't it? No one just decides to talk to some random hospital patient for fun."

"Well, I'm definitely not no one. I'm the Devil. Completely different spectrum."

"Uh huh...ok...totally not weird at all," you say skeptically, "So, why are you here, Lucifer?"

"Like I said before, curiosity. Is that...all right?" 

You stare him in the eyes, and the man looks genuine enough. Weird, but genuine.

"Sure, I guess. Not like I'm doing anything else." 

"Wonderful!" Lucifer's face instantly brightens up, and you can't help but notice his excitement and joy is contagious, "So, tell me about yourself darling, and I'll do the same!"

So, talk and talk you two did. All the way until visiting hours were long since over, and he was here in the morning!

You give him your background, a sad sap of a story. You're an abandoned baby. Left on the doorsteps of an orphanage. No information on your real parents or family. As you grew up the caretakers noticed how often you'd get sick, and how easy it was for you to get hurt. After many tests you're diagnosed with numerous things, causing a very weak immune system and fragile bones. Your caretakers believed no one would take you and you'd be stuck at the home forever. Fortunately for them, a rich couple came by and took pity on you. You thought you'd actually get a family, but that wasn't the case. This couple took you in to further increase their financing in their businesses and lives by using you as a charity. They taught you how to act and talk for the cameras and reporters, and you picked up on it quickly. 

Yeah, it wasn't the best kind of life. You didn't have a normal family, but at least you were alive. The loneliness sucked at times, but you figured that's a small price to pay for staying alive and having some kind of life. It's not like your rich parents didn't do anything with you. They cared, just...not in the normal sense.

Lucifer gave you his story too. His insane story. God, angels, wars, becoming the Devil. You were starting to think he was some preacher, who just really believed. But you humored him, for he and his stories were incredibly entertaining. And who knows, maybe it was all real.

Suffice to say after that first day together, you two became fast friends and Lucifer became a very frequent visitor. Sneaking in a variety of your favorite things, some...illegal things, and even just sneaking you out for a night on the town.

Your first real friend, and you his.

[professorjaskier]

The Kindest Thing (Please Don't Leave Me): Chapter 3

Hi y'all! This has been a long time coming, but here is chapter 3 of this series. Thanks to @natthemess for beta reading my story! I hope you enjoy

CW: Jaskier whump and conversation of Jaskier's mortality

Part 1, 2

A03 link in comments

Jaskier groaned as he came to, his head and body aching like he had spent the night reacquainting himself with Oxenfurt’s pub crawl. Though it had been quite awhile since he’d completed the list of bars in its entirety, he wondered what trouble he must’ve gotten into the night before.

As questions ran amok through his mind, Jaskier kept his eyes firmly closed and took stock of himself. His right knee felt as though it were slightly swollen, but that was nothing new. His knees hadn’t been pain free for at least two decades — a small price to pay for walking the path beside his beloved.

Breathing, though — that was something he did not usually have trouble with. However, as he focused on taking a cleansing breath, he felt his ribs protest at the small movement.

Ah, his ribs were broken. Interesting.

All of this was exacerbated by the pounding in his head that even rivaled the horrible headache Jaskier had endured whenever Valdo Marx debuted a new piece.

What had happened last night?

After taking another moment of darkness’ solace, he opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The light burning brightly through the windows had him hissing in pain and shutting his eyes against the onslaught.

This was one hell of a hangover.

Now prepared for the pain, Jaskier opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings. He was in a small but clean bed in an unfamiliar room. A washbasin sat on a wooden table in the far corner, a ray of sunshine reflecting on its uneven surface — or perhaps it looked wobbly because he wasn’t wearing his spectacles. He hated those damn things.

Swiveling his head to the right, he found Geralt slumped over in a chair, ensconced in a deep sleep. From the dark shadows underneath his eyes, it was evident that his witcher needed the rest, which was unsurprising after a kikimore—

Shit, that was what happened last night!

Suddenly the events leading to his current situation replayed in his head. The argument he’d had with Geralt about staying behind. The two drowners taken care of and then the appearance of an unexpected kikimore. He’d tried to run, but he hadn’t been wearing his damned spectacles, so he had tripped over a root, twisting his already aching knee. And then Geralt had been thrown backwards into a tree!

Suddenly much more awake, Jaskier sat up, hissing at the shooting pain the quick movement brought about. It hurt, but that did not matter. Geralt was injured and it was his fault.

He should’ve stayed at the inn.

Jaskier was torn out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. “You need to lie down, or you’ll puncture a lung. Your ribs are broken”

“I noticed, dearheart,” he groaned and complied. Geralt was awake. Everything would be alright.

A sudden thought struck him and he tried to move once more, frantically looking around the room. Only Geralt’s strong arms kept him in place. “My lute! Where is my lute?”

Geralt grunted. “Your ribs are broken and you’re asking about your lute?”

“I won’t even dignify that question with an answer.”

With a roll of his eyes, Geralt gestured to the corner opposite of the table he’d noticed earlier. In it sat his lute case, which was a bit more battered than he remembered, but altogether whole.

“Oh, thank Melitele! Thank you, darling. You know what she means to me.”

When he received not so much as a grunt in return, Jaskier stared at his husband, taking in his frantic gaze. The longer he took in Geralt’s appearance, the more he realized that more time must have passed than he’d initially thought. Not only was Geralt’s hair tangled and greasy, but his face looked gaunt, shadows pulling at his handsome features. “How long have I been asleep?” Jaskier asked, fearing the answer, but needing to know nonetheless.

“A little over a week,” Geralt replied, expertly avoiding his gaze while he busied himself with fluffing the pillows behind Jaskier’s back. The two men remained silent as Geralt gently moved Jaskier into a seated position. Once he gestured that he was comfortable, Geralt returned to his seat, placing his chin on his hands as he stared at his husband.

They sat in silence, Jaskier waiting for Geralt to say something, but when his husband remained silent, he couldn’t stop the onslaught of words.

“What an adventure, wouldn’t you say? I’ll have to write it down for my next ballad: Bard Saves Witcher! No, that doesn’t have a good ring to it—”

“Jaskier—”

“But you can’t blame me for having a bit of trouble with the rhyming scheme! Seems I had a hit on the head. Luckily for both of us, my head is quite hard, so—” “Jaskier—”

“—everything is fine! Nothing happened, so we can just head on to the next—”

“Jaskier!”

He fell silent as Geralt’s bellow echoed through the small space, filling his heart with dread. He knew what was coming next. It was something he’d been dreading ever since their argument years ago, but he thought he’d have longer.

Geralt looked up, his face made of stone, but his eyes betraying the pain and worry rushing through him. How people could think Witchers had no emotion was beyond Jaskier’s comprehension. Geralt was one of the most deeply feeling individuals he had ever met.

“You almost died, Jaskier.”

The bard sighed, picking at a loose thread coming apart on the blanket covering his legs. “But I’m fine, Geralt. See? I’m alive and breathing and here with you! You saved me, like you always do.”

Jaskier watched as a whole body shudder ran through his husband, wishing desperately that he could walk over and wrap him up in his arms. The best he could do at the moment was to beckon Geralt towards him.

Jaskier’s smile fell as Geralt shook his head. “No, the bed is too small, I’ll hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me, Geralt. Please,” Jaskier pleaded, holding out his hand as an offering.

With a weary sigh, Geralt took his hand and sat beside him on the mattress. “But I did hurt you, Jaskier. I wasn’t fast enough to save you.”

The bard shook his head and placed his arm around Geralt’s shoulder, holding in the hiss of pain that threatened to pass his lips. “Nope. I’m here, alive and well. That’s all that matters.”

A growl floated up to Jaskier’s ear, causing him to frown. He had hoped that he would be able to talk his overprotective husband down, but it was not working. Geralt was far more upset than he’d originally thought.

“Geralt, I’m fine—”

“You’re only alive because of Yennefer! You were dying in my arms and there was nothing I could do to stop it!”

“Yennefer was here? She didn’t happen to leave a bottle of Est Est did she? She owes me one from the last time we met! That was a good year she stole—” “Jask, I’m being serious,” Geralt said, all traces of humor wiped from his face. “You were dying.”

“I know,” he replied, a heavy feeling settling upon the room. As much as Jaskier loved to ignore the inevitable, the unstoppable current of time kept him in its clutches, always dragging him further away from Geralt. It was what had prompted him to try and run away nearly a decade ago, but Geralt’s reassurances had kept him tethered in place. He’d been able to ignore the signs — the back pain, the matching silver hair, his slower pace — since that conversation, but now it was being dredged up once more, and he wasn’t ready.

He felt Geralt move closer to him, drawn towards his warmth, before he spoke the two words that Jaskier had been afraid to hear for decades: “It’s time.”

Jaskier swallowed down his tears, trying desperately to keep his voice even against the onslaught of emotion. “No, not yet. I still have adventures in me—”

“Jaskier you’re nearing seventy—”

“I am only 65, Geralt, you take that back this instant,” Jaskier protested, trying to cross his arms in protest. He soon stopped the motion when his ribs protested, leaving him pouting like a toddler.

“Don’t move like that! Your lungs—”

“I know, I know! Stop changing the subject, Geralt. I’m not leaving you. We discussed this a decade ago and we agreed that we had more time and that I could ride Roach and—” Jaskier stopped, the tears pricking his eyes and desperation thickening his throat, leaving him momentarily speechless. They were supposed to have more time.

“We do have time, Julek,” Geralt whispered as he carded his fingers through thinning, grey hair. “Just not like this.”

Jaskier’s heart stuttered as Geralt’s words pierced it. “Do you mean— I mean I understand if things have changed for you, but we exchanged vows Geralt!”

Geralt’s eyes widened in shock as he vehemently shook his head and said, “No, no, not like that! I mean not on the path. I will always want you, Julek. You’re my husband.”

A sigh of relief escaped Jaskier’s lips as his body slumped into the pile of pillows keeping him upright. “Don’t you dare do that again, Geralt of Rivia. You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Geralt hummed and leaned his head gingerly upon his shoulder. Good. Jaskier would put up with a little discomfort as long as his witcher was close by.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Geralt said after a long, companionable silence, “I only meant that you deserve to be safe and comfortable, Jaskier. The path isn’t made for comfort. It’s dangerous and rough. You deserve something better. Something soft.” Geralt pressed a soft kiss to his neck, as if to demonstrate what the witcher meant by soft.

Oh, he could see it now. A small house, perhaps in Oxenfurt or maybe by the coast. Although he loved the coast, Oxenfurt would be a more rational option. In a tiny cottage, he would eventually grow bored with nothing left to do. In Oxenfurt, he could teach classes and help to meld the bright young minds of tomorrow. In the city, there were plenty of exciting new things happening with each sunrise. It would also keep him closer to Novigrad and better equipped to keep a better eye on the Rosemary and Thyme.

“Would you stay with me?” Jaskier asked, leaning his head against Geralt’s, their hair blending in as it pressed together. Although he knew the answer, he wanted to hear it from Geralt.

The witcher paused, considering his words before he spoke. “Witchers don’t retire, Jask. You know that.”

Jaskier nodded and turned his head slightly so he could look at his lover. “It wouldn’t be a retirement, love. Just a break.”

At Geralt’s grunt of protest, Jaskier continued. “Darling, listen. You will live far longer than I ever will, even if my few drops of elvish blood give me a surprising few extra decades — which, looking at my mother, seems unlikely.” Jaskier lifted his hand, ignoring the slight tug of discomfort the movement caused, and soothed the furrow between Geralt’s eyebrows. “Taking a break for a few years, perhaps a decade or two, isn’t wrong.”

Geralt sighed and turned to face him, his eyes swimming with doubt as they scanned his face. “There are so few of us now, Julek. It would be irresponsible—”

“Then be irresponsible for me.”

They both sat there in silence, waiting on the precipice of change.

“Perhaps we could stay more local?” Geralt started to suggest tentatively. “You stay and teach your students, I only take contracts within a certain distance. An even trade.”

Jaskier huffed and nodded in agreement. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he had always known that Geralt was not one to be tied down to one spot. There was a reason that they did not stay at Geralt’s vineyard for more than a month at a time. His husband would be miserable staying in a townhouse for a few decades. This was a compromise that he could live with.

“But who will dress your wounds when you’re hurt?” Jaskier asked, already knowing that he would agree to these terms. He would do anything for Geralt.

“Roach,” Geralt answered simply, his lips upturned at the joke they’d shared for the past few decades

“Roach?” Jaskier answered wetly, the scripted answer lying on his tongue. “Roach has many wonderful qualities, darling, but field dressing isn’t one of them.”

“So you say,” Geralt grumbled, gingerly pulling Jaskier closer. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more.”

Jaskier smiled and pressed his lips to Geralt’s cheek. “It’s enough. You’re enough. Besides, I know who I married, Geralt, and I love you for it, you noble bastard.”

Geralt chuckled and kissed him back. “And I you, Julek. Now let’s focus on getting you better.”

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