#‘my dream lay dead in my arms’ (:

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i love watching people experience the suffering of finishing fool’s fate for the first or second time

because having read the tawny man trilogy as it was being published in the early 2000s, i can’t wait for newer RotE fans to realize that no, they won’t ever recover from that ending, it is going to haunt their waking hours for the next two decades, at minimum

welcome to hell!! your brain chemistry has been changed forever!!

[nappingmoon]

more domestic nanami kento because I love and adore him, but this time you’re in an argument and try to sleep on the couch (spoiler: nuh uh)

wc: idk i’m on my phone it’s not that long

you get into an argument w nanami and think he wants space so after dinner, when he heads into the room to go to bed, you stay out under the pretense of finishing some paper work and watching the news. you pull a blanket out and splay onto your couch, which, despite being a little small, is soft and comfortable— a testament to its use and the friends you've had over to break it in. the thought of those good times warms your heart a smidge, though it remains heavy with the current tension between you and your fiancé. you leave the tv on, let the night shift television shows fill the space and keep you company while you sleep, an alarm set so that tomorrow you can make breakfast and talk it out.

in the bedroom, nanami lays on his back, the small clock to his left almost mocking him with the way the red numbers change minute after minute with no sign of you coming to bed. the room is cold without your presence, dark in a way that has nothing to do with lamps or moonlight. he fidgets and turns but without your familiar dip in the bed, sleep is impossible. he never sleeps well without you; the lack of your steady breaths and soft snores means he starts to spiral with thoughts about your wellbeing. he knows you’re in an argument, but you always come to bed, right?

he sits on it for a moment more, eyeing the door to see if you’ll slip in and put his worries to rest like you always do. when the numbers blip again, he gets up, feet sliding into the silly slippers you got him for christmas (you have a matching pair) and finds his way to the living room.

when he finds you there curled up with your arm hung over the edge of the sofa and a little bit of drool spilling onto the cushion, his heart twists. the lights of the television flash over your face, certainly disrupting your sleep, though he doubts your reaching anywhere near a restful slumber. he walks over to you, slowly crouching in order to avoid scaring you awake. his right hand grabbing yours, and it’s freezing— left without the protection of your measly blanket. he warms it with one hand while the other comes up to graze your face, easing you awake.

“kento?” you ask, bleary eyed. “you’re even handsome in my dreams.” you smile and pat his face before letting your arm drop and closing your eyes once more.

a small chuckle escapes him, both in surprise and adoration at his soon to be wife. unwilling to try and wake you a second time, he quickly turns the tv off, then slides an arm around your back and another under your knees before rising. he elbows the light switch to the living room off and slowly makes his way back to your shared bedroom, carefully avoiding hitting you at any point. your head is safe regardless, tucked into his chest contentedly despite not being awake. he supposes your body recognizes him asleep or awake— a testament to the years you’ve spent side by side; once as teammates and now as lovers.

he slides you into bed on your side, fixing up the covers before making his way around to his side. he slips off his slippers and gets himself under the covers, body gravitating to you. as he brings you closer to him, you finally seem to shake off your sleep. you look at him sadly, and it’s enough to resolve him against letting any future arguments happen (an impossible sentiment, he knows, but the look on your face is makes him dead set on trying).

“never try to sleep on the couch again.” he whispers, quiet but stern. “I hate sleeping without you. I worry too much.” the honesty is almost suffocating and tears build at your waterline.

“m’ sorry kento. thought you were mad at me n’ I wanted to give you some space away from me.” you reply, the words thick with sleep and emotion.

“i’ll never need space from you baby,” he insists, “I know we were in an argument but you mean everything to me. I’ll always want you by my side. I’ll always need you by my side. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were the reason I was upset.” he finishes off with a kiss to your forehead, his hand coming up to wipe the tears that have begun to drip down your cheeks.

he kisses down the bridge of your nose before leaving a peck at your lips. it’s the last thing you feel before giving in to the exhaustion once more.

in the morning, you’ll discuss the tensions of yesterday, but before that, you’ll wake in the arms of your lover, held tight against the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

it beats for you, anyway.

[yandere-wishes]

Alice in Marvel-land

𐙚Yandere! Deadpool (Wade Wilson) x Reader x Yandere Wolverine (Logan Howlett)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ In some worlds, you were Logan's little darling. In others, you were Wade's starry-eyed lover. But here in the void, there is only one of you and two of them.

⁀➷ GORE, yandere behavior, kidnapping, Deadpool being Deadpool.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ IDK, probs the Deadpool and Wolverine soundtrack

Logan feels the world slipping away.

Piece by piece, atom by atom.

In a blink, he's falling down darkness.

An endless rabbit hole.

What was the name of that fairy tale you liked so much?

The one with the girl who gets lost in splendor?

The dust is kicking up, framing the sunset portrait along the horizon.

The envoys are nearly home, this time they've brought someone back. The cage balls chime along the unsteady road. If you squint just far enough you can almost make out vibrant specks of red and yellow.

Strange, the void tends to wash out bright colors. Well, it tends to wash out just about everything.

You scrape your nails along the skeleton's sockets. Leave crescents in the decaying cartilage. "They're almost here" you call out awaiting Cassandra's next move. You watch dolefully as she's transfixed on a portal. The sparky thing unfurled like a fresh wound, strewing salt on persistent lacerations. She watches her brother, or well some variation of her brother. Surrounded by his new family, surrounded by those he loves. He's forgotten her, or maybe never even knew her. You think that the latter would hurt the most.

"Cassandra" Your voice rises in octave, this time getting her attention. "They're here".

"Coming" She sings, voice so chip it almost sounds like unshed tears. You send a final glare at the portal before it collapses on itself.

If you tried hard enough, maybe you could bring yourself to understand her pain. Those pesky notions of desperation for someone to love. But it

doesn't matter now everyone you've ever loved is dead anyway. And unlike Cassandra, you've long since given up on the childish dreams of being rescued by someone who would offer up love so freely.

"Maybe shut up now"

Logan's nerves are frying. Thin strings snapping with every syllable that leaves the red merc's mouth. He's starting to appreciate Stryker in a way he didn't even know he could. The man was a psychotic sadist but at least he knew when to sew someone's mouth shut. Maybe he can convince this Cassadra chick to do the same.

Logan's eyes are almost at 90 degrees of a roll when they stop. He stops, frozen. In the gaping mouth of the rotting skull, something all too familiar stands.

Or rather someone.

Someone he knew.

Someone he loved.

Your name tastes bitter on his tongue. All death and whisky.

Maybe cause it's been so long since the attack. Since he walked off for the night and left his family to die. Cause the last time he saw you, you were a mangled corpse laying in an open grave. Deadweight as he cradled you in his arms.

You walk closer. Face painted in too many shades of confusion.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Damn, he's started quoting that stupid book again.

"How do you know my name" You ask. You look just as beautiful as he remembers. Spine carved straight in pride with perfect lips, perfect eyes. His talons itch to glide across your soft skin, to feel you so intimately once more.

"LOOOGAN did you see what the bald chick just- HEY!!"

It takes too much effort to pull his gaze away. To stare at red and black and be reminded of cruel realities. But Wade has a tendency to be a persistent ache, some unwelcomed anchor to every problem he's ever had.

Only this time when he actually looks at him. Looks at the jittery body that's stilled abruptly. He can't help but be glad that he did. A bitter laugh bubbles in his throat. Maybe Wade's shut up for good this time.

He always knew you were special but this is truly a miracle.

"IT'S YOU!!"

Nope, didn't work. He knew he couldn't be that lucky.

Wade whispers your name, a forgotten prayer. Logan didn't even know the loudmouth knew how to pray. But he seems to almost soften when he sees you. That feral, cheeky killer, looks so so soft when he stares into your doe-eyes. Reaching out zealously to twirl a lock of your hair around his blood-soaked finger.

He can almost feel Wade choking on your essence, heart erratic, like a child finding a lost toy. He's drowning in ecstasy, and Logan is almost tempted to join him. You're here, a breath away. So close it's taking every ounce of self-control not to pull you to his chest and keep you locked between his arms until he finally dies too.

"Penunt look that's my girl!!"

"Your girl!?"

He had taken you for granted as he tends to do with most peaceful things. The realization had occurred a little too late. Right as he had been emptying a round into the target of the week's head.

He lands.

Arms high like an Olympian pleasing the crowd.

He wonders if he can make you cheer for him.

Clap and shout his name as he twirls around the mess he's made.

He wants to feel loved, although he'll never say it out loud. He's only ever been good with words when they're laced with sarcasm and profanity.

And maybe 'I love you' is just about the most obscene thing he can ever say to someone as sweet as you.

Wade plays the white rabbit, fluffy coat stained red from every kill. Tricking poor Alice into following him down cruel rabbit holes. Making you chase him through labyrinths then leaving you at every turn. He leads you to every kill, makes you watch as he dances in slaughter. He can even feel your eyes right now. Starlight slicing him open to quench vulgar interests.  

Alice always follows the rabbit.

He stalks closer, white eyes fixated on your deliciously bewildered expression. Precious thing caught in a warzone. He can almost taste you on his tongue, the sharp tip of a star slivering the inside of his mouth, soft hands painting crescent moons along the back of his neck. He needs to carve his essence across your lips, to pour the after-kill adrenaline into your soul. He needs you.

Only this time...

This time he'd been too distracted. So caught up in claiming you as his victory prize that he didn't notice the grizzled man clinging to life...

And a pistole.

The bullet punctures his shoulder. An afterthought.

But the lead keeps going.

Penetrating the air until it lands bunglingly between your eyes.

You fall into his arms.

Deadweight.

Did the white rabbit ever miss Alice?

Did he ever realize how truly special such a curious girl made him feel?

He doubts it.

Doubts that a stupid rodent would have better emotional stability than him.

He's been given a second chance. A whole plethora of them actually. He's been deemed holy, righteous. And aren't gifts of marvel bestowed upon the truly blessed? What better blessing than the sight of you standing amongst the sand and skulls?

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

He lets the blood trickle down his claws.

What else is there to do but dream of you?

It's the fourth day of his massacre and he's lost count of how many humans he's killed. Maybe cause after the first hundred the faces tend to blur.

He leaves your pleasants in between the rotting carcasses and broken glass. Only taking the torturous parts of you. The things that can hurt him. The sharp edges that he can slit his pulse point on, the vague memory of your glare before you cried. The soft skin of your neck between his jagged teeth.

Enough to keep the hate burning.

He wonders if the creatures of Wonderland wept after Alice left. He wonders if Wonderland lost its wonder.

But now you're standing here.

Alive.

And he wants so badly to remember the sweet taste of your lips. The soft push against his chapped lips as he swallows you whole. Even desperate rabbits can go a little feral. His eyes take in every breath, every scowl.

Alive.

Alive.

Alive.

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

Aliath skids forward, mystified in lightning and smoke. You feel your bones collapsing under the rugged man's, Logan's, vice grip. You thrash and scream trying to break free but he only barks out orders to his friend before they take off running.

"Your safe, don't worry we got you." There's a comedic cadence to every word Wade says. You can almost fool yourself into enjoying it if the two weren't actively attempting to defy Cassandra, to defy Aliath, to defy deities and absolutes. To ripe you away from the only semblance of opulence you've come to know.

"Let me go, you custome-wearing freaks." His gripe tenses. "Don't struggle so much, we said you're safe, now hold still" Logan's anger ripples through you. It's almost muscle memory to still, to obey.

Did you know him? Know them?

In some past life too out of reach?

The ground shutters to a jagged rhythm. You're flying up, escaping the misty horrors of the ground. Your head pounds with the force, air slapping across your body as you taste the cotton of the clouds between your teeth.

Is this how Alice felt as her head hit the roof?

Wade mutters about the stars and educated wishes. About people who live and matter. Logan slices through his thigh, the mercenary's optimism making his body ring with phantom pains.

No one matters.

And when they start to, they die.

There are cruel absolutes in this world. He's tasted them all. Let them slice his tongue and heart and danced to every tune they've sung. He rips his claws out and digs them into Wade's chest.

Again

And again.  

Wade savors the salty tang of blood inside his mouth.

Licks his teeth and runs his tongue over the gaping holes.

He's sitting in the front seat head rolled back.

High off the blood and adrenaline and the thought of having you so close.

"I take it all back, the Honda odysseys fucks hard"

Bones crack, interrupted mid-heal as Logan turns his head to glare. "Shut up" he rasps and Wade almost, almost, hears approval.

There's a low moan reverberating across the broken car. Late night sleepy mumble that's half 'I love you' and half 'I need you'. Neither one has heard it in such a long time.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty? Kinda surprised you could sleep through all of that" Wade shimmies to the back, only to be greeted by your foot smashing into his face, cracking his nose open, and sending a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He pins your knee to the seat and wiggles himself between you. caging you with his elbows as he stares down at your pretty face. "Miss me, angel baby?"

"Wrong fairy tale" Logan turns around in his seat, claws out running them across your cheek "Please stop, just let me go" you've never begged before, never fallen so low. But these two things, mutants, mutates, or whatever they are, scare you. Reckless, suicidal, dangerous. You feel so helpless in their presence. Never knowing you're to be kissed or killed.

"You're as lovely as I remember" The melancholy colors him in a monochrome of sympathy. Here is a man who's gone through every horror and still gets out of bed. Or maybe he has to, maybe he can't quite die and can't quite reach heaven. So he gulps down his immortality with black coffee to at least pretend he's being buried six feet deep. "Even after all this time I still love you" You almost melt in his brown eyes. So lonely, so desperate.

Kill or kiss

You want him to do both. Want to kiss extinction on his lips while being impaled by the claws. Kill or kiss.

Both, both, both.

"You know~" Wade pushes himself up, "I think your dress should be red...and black. To match your favorite man."

"Who the hell said you were the favorite?" Wade leans forward, in a blink he's gripped Logan's wrist and lunged the Wolvarine's claws into your abdomen.

You writhe, the bones and metal feel almost heavenly inside of you. When he retracts the claws you moan out, it's too saccharine to hold back. Everything feels so much lighter, colorful. You feel your essence slipping out, gushing over the back seat.

Red waterfall, so pretty.

Dress stained red.

"Told ya so!"

Wade pulls you roughly by the shoulders and smashes his lips against yours. He's so cute, fickle Cheshire cat, tongue dancing across your mouth, slitting itself on your peaked teeth, and filling your mouth with thick red caterpillar smoke. "What the hell is wrong with you? You really are God's perfect idiot" Logan's anger is tangible, sweet, and bitter like hatter tea at midnight.

"S'okay Logan, it feels nice" Your words slur, slipping gauche from your tongue as you giggle profusely. You feel like Alice cracking open Wonderland's ribs, crawling inside, and smearing the wonder across your face.

"When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one" You've heard these words before, Alice's words. she's right. Your fairy tale is painted red with pretty, crazy, princes who think that slicing open a princess is easier than kissing her. You reach out for Logan, desperate for a kiss. "eat me" you mutter, and Logan's face morphs into pure terror "Wade what the hell have you done to her?".

"What? It's better this way trust me"

"I hate you"

Logan bends, meeting you halfway. He kisses you with all the wary of a dead man walking. All teeth and heart and bitter memories left to rot three lifetimes ago. He pushes himself between your bones, trying to carve out his ethos in your body. He'd burn the world so long as he gets to keep you.

You squeeze your thighs around Wade's muscular thighs and hips unlocking a gibby giggle from the man. His mask is half pulled up as he trails sloppy fervorous kisses across your neck and chest. The nostalgia slithering under your skin has you squirming, you've been through this all before. In a past life somewhere where storm monsters and voids don't exist. "Remember how good this feels?" Wade mumbles as his fingers dig into your puncture wounds, drawing slow, desperate moans from your puffy lips. You don't dare answer you don't know what would be worst admitting to liking the loudmouth ministrations or admitting there were other versions of you out there, other happy versions.

"Oh for hell's sake," Logan reclines the front seat and shuffles closer. Pulling down the back of your dress. His kisses are bite marks in disguise rabid and feral, the two things the man will never escape. His name rolls across your tongue, you let it slip in an airy moan. "No fair " Wade complains "I want you to say my name too." He pulls out his baby knife and etches the skin of your thighs. Scribbling doodles of stars and half hearts and the little symbol he wears on his belt. "W-wade" you gasp never knowing whether to scream in pain or giggle in bliss.

Logan laughs into your neck. You didn't even know he was capable of such a gentle thing. You bite his lip playfully. Dragging your fingers across his muscular arms. Your thumb pushes into the space between his knuckles asking for the claws. For the most macabre parts of him. You glide your tongue across the parish where flesh meets metal. Kissing the metal and bones and lapping at the blood. Watch curiously as he draws out a long airy sigh. "Good girl" he mumbles voice marred with ecstasy and you almost see the ghost of a smile smear across his pretty lips.

Wade's thumb gently rubs against your hips. Softly usering you into peace, tranquility. Your eyes get heavy, the car gets blurry. The grotesque realignment of their bones steering you into a deep, content sleep.

"Hey Peanut, you think Alice in Wonderland here would mind if we keep going? "  

"Shut it, moron "

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if only I knew how to begin.”

🎀Bonus

Deadpool: "Do you think the author's going to write about us again? Or is she planning to finally write that Dune fic she keeps talking about?

Wolverine: "I have no fucking idea what the hell you're even talking about.

🪐@yandere-romanticaa @bad4amficideas @sugarplumz100 @oscarissac2099 @facelessfionna @siphite @tocotuesday69 @linoleunm @mei-simp @shamelessdarkprince @gabriqllas @lovely-liliacs @shiroi-asashin17 @failinguniversity

[oceantornadoo]

sleepy morning (simon riley x f!reader)

part 4 of the two lieutenants series...HORNINESS LEVEL 1000

tw: wet and messyyyyyyyyy MDNI

--

that had to have been the best sleep of your life.

no seriously. extra strength melatonin could not compare to sleeping with simon THEE “ghost” riley. you had never had such a broad, thick man on top of you. and you liked it.

now, however, you found yourself in a much more compromising position.

the sleep had started innocent enough, you both insisting it was a platonic arrangement, a cheap version of getting a weighted blanket. but you had shuffled in your sleep, and now your bodies were tangled. simon's head lay on your collabone, his mouth hovering over your clothed breast, emitting small sighs in his sleep. your nipples were aching at the prolonged stimulation, his breath changing the temperature and making them harden. his hands grasped you beneath your arms, thumbs brushing the sides of your tits. you didn't think it was on purpose, but you had been on the edge for hours.

simon nuzzled closer into you, feigning sleep as long as possible. his left thigh wedged between your legs, his right bracketing the outside of yours to keep you right there. his morning wood, clothed by his thin sweats, laid heavy against your thigh. he could almost smell the wetness between your thighs, the way you tried humping him when you were asleep. little, uncontrolled movements of your hips, up and down, chasing friction. he tried to stop his teeth from sinking into your clothed tit, the softness of it so tempting. you were right there, almost his, yet so far it felt like foreign territory. somewhere he's been plenty of times, unwelcome. he had to tread carefully. then of course, soap had the gall to knock.

"l.t.? yer on recruit training, started a couple minutes ago." simon groaned against you, providing even more friction to your tit. guess he couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. "'m sick. cancel it." a pause, soap was unbelieving. when simon was sick, if anything, he coached the recruits with even more vengeance than usual. "yer sure?" simon propped himself up on his forearms, squishing you in between them even more. you looked up at him, a dream with your tired eyes and a bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. he laid a small kiss to your forehead, so small you must still be dreaming. "cancel it. 'm bedridden today." his gravelly morning voice must have been enough for soap, who he could virtually hear straightening up after leaning against simon's doorframe. "got it, l.t."

simon breathed a sigh of relief. finally, finally, he acknowledged you. "mornin' dovie. sleep well?" sleep well?! you had slept like the dead. "best sleep of my life, simon. might have to make this a regular thing." you joked, still unsure of the lines that had been erased last night. and that forehead kiss. "available whenever ya need, love." you were still tangled together, his cock still against your cunt. you bucked against him again involuntarily, the whisper of friction too light for you. you both looked down together at where you were almost touching, separated by two layers of fabric. "simon i-"

another loud knock. "what." simon gritted out. "seen the better lieutenant, ghost? we're supposed to run drills today an' i can't find her." it was gaz and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. simon looked down at you questioningly and you shook your head vehemently. "she's sick. contagious." gaz was choking back a laugh. he must have talked to soap before this. "alrigh', i'll tell price. get better, you two." fuck.

"shit, si, i'm sorry. should have slept at my own place i-" another forehead kiss this time, a bit longer than the first. he trailed his mouth to your nose, small pecks here and there. turning his head down, he nosed your jaw, inhaling the smell of your mixed scents. like you were two of the same. one.

"can i?" you were so far gone it took a bit for his question to register. you had tilted your head back to give him more access, a willing prey to your domestic predator. "can- can you what?" he moved down a bit more, cock moving away from your cunt. you unwillingly let out a whine at the loss of contact and he chuckled into your skin. "suck your tits, baby." oh. oh.

"yes, yes. please"

he laughed again, the sensation vibrating through your skin. his mouth finally made contact with your tit, mouthing at it over your t-shirt. thankfully, it was thin, so you can feel the slight suck and the ghost of a bite. he alternated between your breasts, hands rolling the other nipple he wasn't sucking. your shirt was wet, sticking to your skin, drenched in saliva. "simon, can you- please." the last part was a moan as he gave you a bigger bite. "use your words, lieutenant." he was rutting into the bed, cock chasing much needed friction. he didn't want to scare you but his need for you was bubbling over, a pot on the stove too long. "my shirt, ah, my shirt off."

he freed you from your shirt, the fabric drenched in his saliva, sticking to your skin as he peeled it off. your tits were wet and slightly bruised from his minstrations. marked.

"you like my marks on you?" you looked down, not caring about the unsexy double chin as you took in what he had done to you. keeping it platonic was done and dead, and you were going to take advantage of it.

"more."

a willing soldier, he dove back in, licking and sucking like he had been made for it. his right hand went lower, palm pressing against your wet pussy for some much-needed attention to your clit. you had never come from nipple stimulation alone, but you had been edged for hours while you were sleeping. the pressure on your clit was perfect, the wetness seeping through your sleep shirts onto his callused hand. he let go of your nipple with a loud smack, a string of saliva dripping from his chin. "think you can come like this, dove?" you nodded furiously, his desperate little dove. simon went back down to your abandoned tits and you gasped at the feeling of his bite. he pressed his palm harder against your aching cunt, virtually feeling the flutter of your wanting pussy, pleading for him. he rubbed it in circles, up and down, listening to your sounds to find a pattern you liked.

and suddenly he had it, your back arching as you felt that telltale spark at the base of your spine. simon felt it, your desperation increasing tremendously as you bucked into his hand, thrusting out your tits like a bitch in heat. "right there, baby. come fer' me, hm?" you nodded as he gave your tit one last long suck and pressed his palm right where you needed it, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. he lightly tongued your breasts as you came down, cleaning up his mess. "feel better?" you groaned, the reality of how desperate you had acted finally hitting you.

"they all know, simon. the whole base knows by now." he moved up until you two were face to face. so what if the whole base knew? you had been his since that first handshake.

"so what?"

--

guys this was so horny wowwwwwwwww ovulation hitting me fr

[unknownunidentified101]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

SCENARIO || In which he confines in you after experiencing so many lifetimes of you

WARNINGS || angst to fluff . Spoilers from the story

CHARACTERS || Rafayel, Zayne and Xavier

𝗭𝗔𝗬𝗡𝗘 ||

In his eyes he witnessed a blurry yet clear person ahead of him. The more he reached out, the more they seemed to walk away. “ forget me..dear Zayne” they muttered as a farewell. That beautiful tone was one that Zayne could never forget

Zayne reached out a hand, his chest felt like stopping right there, as if to keep the moment frozen in time. “ wait..” he manages to break his silence

The figure ahead spares no glances to him and continues into the ever lasting light. Zayne reached out his hand, his feet unable to move before he hears a voice call out to him

“ Zayne?” A worried tone cooed over him. Zayne’s eyes blink and they adjust to his surreal environment. “ your awake! Thank god, thought you were dead” he hears your voice

“ what..?” He manages to find his glasses beside him. “ you never sleep. Usually your awake” you grumble to the bewildered man

Zayne tries not to sound rude or harsh, “ what are you doing here?” He tries to back track to what he was doing before

“ I was worried. You haven’t picked up my calls. You haven’t ate either! And I’m pretty sure it’s time for you to go home” you rant. Zayne finds his lips curving upwards

Your voice still sounded like heaven to him.

“ now that you’re fine, I’ll leave this to you, the nurse told me to give it to you.” You sensed the silence Zayne was emitting. It felt suffocating.

Zayne’s eyes follow you as you quickly shuffle to his door. He then realises the person in his dreams were you. He still didn’t want to let you go just yet.

“ wait-“ Zayne springs out his chair and tugs your wrist

“ huh. What is it Zayne?” Your stare averting. His eyes weren’t as cold as before, they seemed to carve for something something. “ please…stay for a while” Zayne found himself silently begging

“ where’s this behaviour from?” You find yourself giggling at his request. “ …okay!” You give in after some silence

Before you could take another step, your eyes stuck out to him.

Your gaze was familiar, Zayne engulfs you into a tight embrace. “ I want you to look at me with those eyes forever ” he whispers in your ears

He means the eyes you gave when you were in awe or in love. He adores your eyes, just like in his past life, those eyes gave him so much closure. It didn’t matter who you laid your eyes on, he just wanted your eyes on him

You didn’t get him now, and you thought you would never get him. “ what eyes? ” you pat his shoulders

XAVIER ||

“ I don’t get your obsession with stars” you huff, crossing your arms

“ stars..?” Xavier repeats after you, his tone lacing with worry. “ I don’t know, you always look at those star charms and I saw some stickers in your apartment” you remark

Xavier’s lips quiver, stars. He smiles at your comment. You looked completely clueless to him, considering you started his obsession with stars a long long time ago.

“ their cute” he only states

“ cute? Okay..” you try to hide your excitement

“ does it bother you?” Xavier’s head tilts downward, his curiosity peaking at your sneaky comments. “ it’s just…I got this for you” you pull out a star charm

Xavier’s lips part, he is more than shocked at receiving a gift from you, it all happened so fast. “ I thought you would like it, considering you like stars” you try to hide your embarrassment

Xavier pauses for a brief moment, his memories haunt him like the flu. ‘ have this’ he still remembers your voice. The voice that offered him the very same charm. No matter how far he was from the stars, he would find you again and again.

He would go above and beyond to finally lay his eyes on you. No matter how you part, you will be reunited with him

“ do you not like it?” You were met with mere silence. Xavier snaps out of his daze and looks back at you. “ I love it” his tone is sincere

“ really..?” You felt proud

Xavier hides the sadness in his tone, “ I love it. So much” he adds. “ can I hug you?” He questions

You are a bit taken back at his comments. “ hug me?” You repeat

“ yes, as a thankful gift” Xavier waves his new charm to you. “ okay” you nod. Xavier pulls you closer without any more questions.

He wanted to be bound to you forever. No matter how many lifetimes it took him.

His hands lay on your head and waist. Now that you couldn’t see his face, his eyes soften. They threatened to cry

“ I knew you would come back.”

RAFAYEL ||

“ poor fish” he dismisses, only giving a glance to the fish in the tank. “ trapped without any freedom” he crosses his arms

“ reminds me of someone” you mutter, your fingers gazing over the glass

“ what makes you say that?” Rafayel’s interest is peaked, he looks back at you

“ I don’t know. I just felt like saying it. I don’t even know what I mean” you found it silly to think such thoughts

Rafayel takes a moment to admire your laughs. Reminds you of someone? Did you mean him? It all made sense considering what happened in your past life. Yet you didn’t remember an ounce of it.

Poor Rafayel. He hated waiting and for you to forget him made his heart ache uncontrollably. Yet, at least you were back together

“ at least the fish has someone with it” Rafayel points out a valid point. The fish was not alone in that tank, swimming with another fish. “ perhaps” you agree, staring back at Rafayel

“ is there anything else you wanted to do today?” You wondered, your mind thinking of all the possibilities. “ thinking about me my bodyguard ?” Rafayel teases

“ well you insisted today was special. So I took you out as a gift” you pouted, unaware today was the day you made a vow. A special vow with Rafayel before he could walk

“ what if I asked you for a even more unique gift?” Rafayel tilts his head. You look at him, clearly confused

“ can I get it right now?” You looked around for any stores. Rafayel shakes his head and takes your hand in his, stroking it softly

“ you’re the only one who has it you know” he trails off. “ what do you want?” You were keen to know what he wanted

“ the rest of my life with you” he mutters back.

[mooncleaver]

Love Is The Reason

ღ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, familial fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

ღ warnings: MAJOR JJK268 SPOILERS. pls don't read if you don't wanna know!! slightly cannon divergent

What the hell.

His ears didn't stop ringing as he brought his body up from its position on the surprisingly soft surface, feeling every ache known to man throbbing all over. Megumi felt the cosmic numbness ebbing away like a flash, and suddenly, he could discern the warm cotton wrapped around his upper body along with the linen sheets that lay beneath him. The three—out of many—scars on his face pulled his skin tautly, so close to his eyes where that devil's face wore his for however long this limbo period was. It hurt to open his eyes. Well, it hurt to do anything, but he's thankful that he can see the world through his own view.

Megumi's ears perk up to the sound of poorly attempted hushed arguments. The sound was so familiar that for once in his life, he felt relieved to hear it. To feel that irritation ticking in his chest, the mindless crease that's fully starting to make itself known on his forehead, and that growing scowl—he could truly cry at the return of bodily autonomy.

Nobara was trying to fit herself inside a present-shaped cardboard box while Yuji stood next to the thing, pushing down the lid on top of her head, which ruffled the strands like crazy. Of course, the girl would not stand for this butchering of her beauty. She spent a lot of time trying to look presentable, not that this pink-haired fool would understand.

Megumi is hit with a deep sense of dejavu as he sits up against the headboard, looking back at the memory of Gojo doing the same exact surprise tactic to announce that Yuji was, in fact, not dead after his literal heart got ripped out of his chest. The boy can feel a smile forming on his lips, and he makes no move to try and stop it.

"What are you two doing?"

He sees Yuji and Nobara freeze in their spots, both eyes widening comically. A second passes before the two let go of whatever it was they were contending about, rushing forward to stick their faces into Megumi's. The former vessel looks—well, he looks like he's had better days. He's thankfully clean of all the blood oozing out of his skin when he fought Sukuna for the last time, his usual uniform with the red hoodie looking incredibly pristine, absent of any rips or blood. Still, some are sticking onto his face, notably a darker shade cutting down across his eyebrows as the dried blood clings onto his wounds. Nobara looks happier. God, he thought she died. He was ready to mourn her with all the losses he'd suffered, but for once, Megumi was glad to hear her voice. He welcomes it. She's wearing a black eyepatch on top of the eye that she lost fighting Mahito, and her uniform is equally as clean as Yuji's—Megumi can tell that she's relieved by that fact.

Finally, they're back together again. The trio of first years with lost dreams who've gone through horrible, terrible things now have found hope again—hope that never died within each other.

"Fushiguro!!" The two yell in unison, going in to hug him despite knowing he didn't usually like that kind of thing. But to their honest surprise, Megumi returned the gesture, fully and truly, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Yuuji and Nobara didn't hesitate to tighten their arms around the spiky-haired boy, be damned the near-death exhaustion clinging to their bones. They may be battered and bruised, but they survived.

After a quiet moment, the momentum was back again as Nobara looked at the two boys with a disgruntled expression, her exaggerated self on display at the lack of reaction to her return. "You know, the class's Madonna, who everyone thought was dead, by the way, turned out to be alive?! You two should be either wetting yourself or crying with joy!"

Megumi didn't even bat an eye, unlike Yuji, who was scrambling out of his mind, replying to her in his usual stoic and flat voice. "I see. My bad."

"So, the bastard is dead then." The Fushiguro didn't phrase that like a question, more so stating a fact. The fact that he was here in his own body, alive and breathing, undoubtedly meant that the curse was dead. It was still surreal to utter, knowing that this was the one thing they'd all been fighting for since forever. Maybe now, everyone who was gone didn't die in vain.

Nobara sounded like she was still in disbelief, shaking her head slightly while she grinned and exclaimed, "Ha! Yeah! Itadori beasted that guy like it was a piece of cake!"

"Eh.. well, it was pretty tough, I'm not gonna lie. I cried a little when resonance was hit." Yuji himself could only scratch the back of his neck at the rare praise, his eyes crinkling into thin lines as he admitted his own emotions. It was kind of daunting to be the one who killed Sukuna with the fact that he used to be the curse's vessel. But out of everything, making that final blow was something he didn't once hesitate on. Yuji was going to finish all this madness. It all started with him and ended with him—the way it should be.

Megumi didn't sound too surprised at the boy's admission, only giving him a look in response. "I know. I saw everything happening inside Sukuna."

"Ugh... don't even remind me. Well, at least you two have the shared experience of being a vessel now." Well, no matter how sour the fact was, it was true.

Breaking his thoughts, Yuji suddenly lit up as he shifted through his pants pockets, haphazardly pulling out the crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. "Oh, wait, guys. I have something for you two. It's from Gojo-sensei. Gojo-san, too, I think."

The pink-haired boy grew incredibly sullen at the mention of both his teachers. He'd miss calling out to the two Gojo's, mixing the couple up despite your previous urgings to the students of simply calling you by your first name. Of course, your husband would not absolutely have that, sneakily going behind your back and basically forcing his students to call you Gojo, too. If he couldn't get the second years to follow, he'd make his own kids do it. The man would not pass on the chance of hearing people call you by your shared last name.

"A letter.." Megumi looked shocked at the fact. His sensei (and self-proclaimed dad who stepped up) never did this kind of thing—seriously, that is.

Growing up with Gojo and his wife, Megumi knew the white-haired sorcerer never strayed away from being lighthearted and childlike. Despite witnessing the lanky heir change from the bratty 18-year-old who approached him as a child in the streets into the mature, married man he was the last time, it just wasn't in his nature to be doing some sentimental things like this. That was more like something you'd do. From the daily lunch notes, deep-meaning gifts (that he still kept to this day), and the affectionate texts you'd always send, he would wager that you might've been the one to drag your husband to write the letters. But, knowing that Gojo probably had a feeling that he wouldn't make it out of the fight, it's not impossible that this truly came from him.

Nobara chuckled at his tone of voice, silently agreeing with his disbelief. Gojo was definitely not the type to do this.. it unsettled her.

"I feel you.. this is totally not like him. It's slightly gross to even imagine him writing letters.."

Though, after reading, she crushed the piece of paper in her hand, pursing her lips. Yuji noticed this, facing her to ask what it said. With slight hesitation, Nobara revealed that it contained information about her mother's whereabouts. To be honest, she wasn't sure how to feel. Some part of her still longed to feel her love.

"Oh, did you even want to know in the first place?"

She shook her head as she looked down, leaving no room for the topic to be continued. "Not at all."

Suddenly, they heard the very, very rare sound of Megumi's laughter ringing out from the bed. Gojo would've bawled knowing he made his son laugh. It took a moment for them to snap out of the shock, seeing the fresh face of their friend's smile. He looked like a brand new person—content, young and carefree. It was refreshing.

Megumi hasn't felt this happy in a long while. He expected that the message wouldn't be some deep, meaningful thing, but out of everything, it was a joke about how he killed his biological dad. He wasn't sad, surprisingly. Megumi never really knew the man that left him and his sister to fend for themselves, and the memories he had of him weren't great. At least he found some closure. The boy shook his head, reading the familiar and large handwriting of his father figure. You'd think that it'd be messy, but as the former heir of the Gojo clan, Satoru was a trained guy in the art of handwriting. He wouldn't be caught dead with scribbles.

Unfortunately your father isn't around anymore!! Cuz I killed him!! Sowwy!! :P

Short, simple, and kind of foolish.

He bit back a grin. Even in death, the man couldn't take anything seriously.

Beneath it was a softer and more serious note. From you, of course. Megumi did not doubt that you wrote this to make up for your husband's short message, writing a heartfelt one that he could sense even before reading. The two of you must've known that this was not a fight you would come out of. And as much as that hurt him, Megumi was glad that he was in your last thoughts. It meant a lot to know that you and Gojo believed he, Nobara, and Yuji would live through everything.

Firstly, don't take this idiot too seriously. If you're reading this megs, we're probably gone, but hey, you're okay! Live your life fully okay? Don't forget that you're still a kid in the end. We're always looking out for you, sweetheart. ♡

There was a chibi doodle in the bottom and a sweet greeting that said,

— Love you beyond infinity, mom & dad

Megumi could tell that this was Gojo's handwriting. It was meant as a joke (the boy didn't call Satoru dad very often, despite calling you mom. It was kinda cringe.) but he accepted that sincerely. You two were his parents, biological or not. He loves you so much.

And he'd promise that for you. For Satoru, too, to be honest. To live life fully. Ever since he knew what living meant, he never intended to live a proper life. The absence of his biological father and the death of his mother left an untreated wound in his heart, altering his mind in a way that left him isolated—a recluse from the world, almost. The only thing that used to keep him going was his sister, Tsumiki. Now she is really gone. But then, everything shifted when he first saw Gojo Satoru.

It was a big change to have people to look up to. To have a mother. Megumi called you mom way before he even considered Satoru as his father figure, and it was one of the most precious things in life. You never took that for granted, always spoiling him and treating him like he came from your own womb. You knew you'd never take the place of his biological mother, but you wanted to be someone the boy could rely on in such a cruel world. It was a bit strange when Satoru first brought up the idea of raising the Fushiguro boy. You were both still 18, barely even adults with so much pressure and responsibilities. But you knew, from the moment you saw this poor boy getting dragged home by your boyfriend, that you'd love him like no other.

You and Satoru gave him and Tsumiki a home. An unlikely one, but a home nonetheless. You gave him a love like no other, an unconditional, wholehearted, and absolute kind of love, even when the two of you were struggling. It was a type that couldn't be described by words and only felt. That, along with the friendship and true family he found within Nobara and Yuji, made him realize that even if he didn't live his life for himself, there were others in the world. Other people, whether that'd be a mother, a father, a sister, or a brother could give everything meaning. A reason to keep going.

At first, he only lived for Tsumiki. To use everything he had to save her. But then he found himself living for you, for Satoru, for Nobara and Yuji. Once more, he would try again. This wasn't a chance he'd take for granted.

Reading the note made Megumi feel a kind of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. The kind that he last felt when you hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead before everything in Shibuya happened. That was probably the last time he saw you happy and alive. The world was dull when you died. A victim of that son of a bitch curse Mahito. That was a loss like no other, so incredibly painful and numbing.

At least you died in an honorable way.

After that, he didn't know how to function. Tsumiki, Nobara, and now you. The boy felt half of his soul chip away.

Your husband was even worse. Inconsolable. Watching his wife die in front of his eyes before getting sealed the second after. When the man came out of the prison realm, anyone could tell he wasn't the same. There was no chance the old Gojo would ever return. And sure, he was still lighthearted, but Megumi could tell there was a weight in his gait—the heavy burden of the loss of his darling wife dragging down every word that came out of his mouth. He saw the sadness, longing, anger, and pure vengeance in his eyes. It never did go away. Not even when Sukuna butchered the man in half. At least now, the two of you were together in the afterlife. Megumi truly hoped that. He didn't believe much in that kind of stuff, but for his mother and his father, he prayed for a final peace to be granted.

That hope—along with the one amongst the living pushed Megumi to go on. To not just survive but to really live. Even beyond that, there were others too. His cousin, Maki, who was thankfully alive, and even Toge and Panda.

This was love. That unanswered purpose of life. It's to give love and find love in others. Love is why people do crazy things: to sacrifice the world, to sacrifice themselves. That's why he kept living even when his own dad disappeared or why he kept fighting to keep his sister alive. Love is why, despite the grief, Satoru still fought for you, for your memory, and for your efforts. Love is the reason he's alive.

And if anything, Megumi learned that when you have people in your life, you'd do anything to keep them in it. That's what you and Satoru taught him. Waking up in his own body again and greeted by the sight of his best friends—that was one of the biggest blessings he has ever received.

For his family, he would do anything.

i'm fucking crying. like actually. 3 chapters to go until this manga ends and i still can't fathom everything happening bruv

btw, this is what i imagine the letter would look like haha. half cannonical cuz it's the panel translation!! excuse my handwriting um

also sorry this isn't really proofread lol, i really wanted to post!!

dividers @cafekitsune @i-mmaculatus

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hihi!, This is my first request of something like this but here we go! Male harbingers with a reader who has constant nightmares/episodes of sleep paralysis and proceed to comfort them through the process. Obviously you don’t gotta do it if you don’t have the time, just wanted to put this little headcannon out into the world!

(I swear I’m not dead! I was busy graduating and enrolling in my next uni studies!)

✦ How they comfort you when you wake up from a nightmare

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe.

In the darkest depth of our consciousness, even we do not possess sovereignty over our dreams. Be it a curse or a blessing, your mind can become your foe. As thoughts and memories convulse into pleasant dreams or horrid nightmares, you end up with the dreaded sense of despair as you witness your own mind betraying you, and waking up with a cold sweat. Tossing and turning, there is only a certain pair of arms that can soothe you in the dimness of such nights - your beloved’s embrace. 

✧ Pierro knows you’re having a nightmare before you even wake up. On a quiet night, when he is sitting beside you in bed, either reading or engrossed in some papers, you’d doze off beside him. But on such nights, he discerns the unease written on your sleeping face. Eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed or softly scowling. The Jester sets whatever he is reading aside and shifts his calculated attention towards you. You start silently tossing as if the very softness of the covers is heavy on you. Pierro sighs, his hand softly coming to rest on your forehead to confirm his suspicion - you are warm, yet breaking out into a cold sweat.

“Dear, shh… open your eyes, slowly now.” - he whispers, as his hands slowly yet deliberately caress your face. “You are having a nightmare again.” 

And indeed, you open your eyes; your dazed expression is one of puzzlement yet evident fear. Pierro knows your first few minutes of waking up from a nightmare are delicate. Through the haze, your first instinct is to seek refuge in the safety of the arms holding you, knowing to who it belongs already. You turn towards him, letting him pull you against his chest. 

 “…Your mind is wary and played tricks on you. You're here now. Breathe.” - you kept your eyes closed, too worn out to get up or speak about your nightmare. Thus, you focused on Jester’s words, breathing deeply as the sound of his heartbeat was navigating you to inhale and exhale. 

You didn't have to explain your nightmares to Pierro - he already knows they mirror the horrors of the cataclysm he once witnessed. Therefore, he squeezes you tightly against him, his lips pressed against your forehead. With silent words of comfort, Pierro continued his vows to protect you, even from your nightmares. 

✧ Il Capitano kneeled beside your bed, akin to a dutiful knight. You lay there, asleep, your wounds and gashes carefully bandaged. This wasn't your first time returning from a prolonged expedition, battle scars and bruises coloring your skin. After all, he often warns you not to be reckless, while you stubbornly return home with bruises. 

Hence, he silently remained beside you, his fists clenched and shoulders taut. His pitch-black helmet stared at you for a prolonged time, anxiously keeping watch of your deep slumber. The Captain's mind reeled, chastising himself for not being there to protect you. But suddenly his attention was diverted as you started to mutter in your sleep. 

It was incomprehensible and lasted only a fleeting second before you jolted up with a sudden gasp, urgently grappling for breath.

“My beloved, what is the matter?” - Capitano rushed towards your side, his arm immediately around your shoulder. “Focus on breathing, steady your heart.”

You wake up, eyes wide with shock and gasping for life, like a fool rescued from drowning. You stared at your beloved in confusion, before your face sourced in melancholy. Il Capitano let you hide your face against him, his arms carefully wrapped around you to avoid pressing your bruises. He sensed your shoulders shaking, small sobs emitting from you - and that sound alone could make the steadfast Harbinger crumble. His hands brush your messy hair aside, offering soothing comfort.

“I shall hold you, my dear. These were only illusions brought about by your fatigue and injuries… It’s all safe now, I am here.” - Capitano squeezed you in his embrace as if his larger frame could shield you from harm. However, in truth, his words aimed to reassure not only you but also himself. Despite his vigilance, his hands trembled whenever he witnessed your distress, fear, or unease. "What did you see, my love?"

You sniffled, recounting the blurry bits of your nightmare. Although you were regaining your breath, you felt how Capitano’s hand trembled, his stern expression faltering with concern. Even you could tell that he was more nervous about your disposition, maybe even more than you. 

“You saw such horrible visions due to your fatigue. I did not shield you from your wounds and nightmares. I shan’t forgive myself for my failure. From here on out, allow me to remedy it.” 

✧ At an ungodly hour of the night, Il Dottore returned to his private chambers. With the long hours of working in the lab behind him, he entered the bedroom quietly, expecting to see you fast asleep. Instead, he noticed the bathroom door ajar, allowing a streak of light to seep into the dark room, and the faint sound of tap water running caught his attention. Most importantly, you were not in bed. 

“It’s rare to see you awake at this hour…” - the Doctor remarked as he stood by the bathroom doorway, observing you cool your face with water. “Why are you not asleep?”

“I…couldn’t sleep.” - you replied briefly, yet your fatigue was evident as you tapped your face with a towel.

The Harbinger did not buy your lies, he carefully stepped closer, his gloved hands placed softly onto your shoulders. “Turn around. Look at me.” 

You did so, and no words were necessary as he analyzed your sorrowful gaze: reddened eyes, darkened circles, and an ashan look of despair bestowed on you. The Harbinger sighed, keenly aware that you had woken from another harrowing dream. His hands now gently caressed your cheek, thumb trailing softly.

“Another nightmare?” - he inquired in a hushed tone, “Staying awake won’t resolve it, you know. Let’s get you back to bed.” 

You wished to object, but Dottore had already sprung into full work mode. He brought you back to bed, deftly fixing the tousled pillows and covers to your liking. Once you were tucked, he instructed quickly: “Now stay here. I will brew some chamomile tea. It will help your slumber.” 

Thus, with his coat removed and sleeves rolled up to the forearms, he moved through the house, swiftly ensuring that your resting area exuded comfort and tranquility. Returning with the steaming tea, he placed the cup on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. “Careful now, it’s still hot. Do you want me to give you sleeping p-” 

“I’m not ill, Dottore. It was just… a nightmare. Nothing more.” 

“Yet your expression says it wasn’t ‘just’ a nightmare, and your heartbeat is accelerating.” - His hand ran over your forehead, instinctively checking for your temperature. “It’s just a dream. You're awake now. Don’t exhaust yourself anymore - it’s usually my job to stay late, actually.” 

You huffed at him but managed a faint smile. “Undoubtedly… And what would the doctor prescribe for my ailment?” 

Il Dottore smirked proudly, planting a much-needed kiss on your cheek before finally scooting beside you in bed - “Why, a dose of me, of course!” 

✧ The moment Scaramouche perceived the sound of your distress in the dead of night, he swiftly flung the sliding shoji door aside, prepared for murder. But there was no intruder or attacker, it was just you, sitting up on your futon, softly weeping. The confused Balladeer stepped into your room, kneeling beside you as his mind invoked the worst scenarios already.

“What happened? I heard a scream.”

For a moment you tried to regain your breath, gulping. Only after regaining your composure, and hearing much coaxing to tell the truth, did you finally reveal to him what transpired. It was a nightmare, plain and simple. For a moment, Scaramouche was silent. He is no stranger to dreams, particularly the ones that bring tears to the dreamer. Instead, he resented them, viewing dreams as the root of his vulnerabilities and the reason for his estrangement.

But witnessing you weep after a nightmare? It was a foreign feeling, one that left a foul pit in his being.

“Hey, calm down.” - he whispered, reaching for you. At first, the Harbinger wasn’t sure how to handle this, but he persisted nonetheless. “It was all just a dream. A jumble of thoughts made up by your mind, Do not allow such a thing to haunt your sleep.”

“I'm sorry, Scara… I know, It’s foolish to cry. I just-”

The 6th shushed you, but when you tried to glance at him in the dark, you sensed no mockery or animosity in his gaze. “I didn't say you should stop crying. It’s not foolish either.”

With a deep sigh, Scaramouche begrudgingly crawled beside you under the covers. He made sure you were lying down beside him, pulling the covers over you both. "Okay, listen. I will stay with you while you fall back asleep. Only this time! So don't expect a bedtime story."

His irritation veiled his concern for your weary expression. But thankfully, his words managed to elicit a chuckle to your sleepy face. He watched you lay on your side, his fingers idly toying with the ends of your hair.

"Say, Scaramouche...? Do puppets have bad dreams?"

The Balladeer did not think much of your innocent question. He didn't have to contemplate long to let his memories resurface; instead, he just nodded quietly with no elaboration. Regardless, that simple question from you kept haunting his mind for years to come. As Wanderer sat alone in bed, the torturous grip of dreams clutching him anew, he no longer had you beside him. The reassurance he once provided while spending sleepless nights with you was absent, just as you were no longer there to offer the same. 

✧ When you jolted up with a yelp, you likely caused a bigger fright to Pantalone than your own nightmare instilled in you. The Harbinger rose from his slumber, turning the nightstand lamp with half-shut eyes.

“Oh dearie, Shhh… It’s alright, all is good,” - he tugged at you with trepidation, pulling you close to him in bed. “I’ve never seen you so frightened from a dream. There, there.” 

You honestly felt ashamed at first, but both of you understood the uncontrollable nature of nightmares, especially if they caused you to scream in the awakened world. So here you were, hiding your face behind your palms while your beloved hugged you, hoping to provide solace. Once you came out of your shock, you just rested against his shoulder quietly. Once the shock subsided, you remained leaning against his shoulder in silence. However, the lingering taste of the nightmare left a sour impression on your mood, as you found yourself unable to drift back into slumber. 

Pantalone observed your despondent demeanor, his arm still encircling your shoulders - “Do you think you can fall back asleep, honey?”  

“... I’m sorry, Pantalone. I woke you up, too. Now I feel embarrassed.” 

“Nonsense, dear. An unpleasant dream does that sometimes. You’re just… shaken by the memories of your nightmare, and now unable to fall back asleep.” - The Regrator brought the covers closer over your figure, while your head leaned on his shoulders. “Do you want me to make you something? Maybe coffee, or valerian root tea with honey?” 

“No, no. Can you just… keep talking for a while?” - you requested in a sudden coy manner, “You can talk about anything. I want to hear you speak.” 

“Hm, very well,” - Pantalone smiled fondly and reached for his glasses on the nightstand. “I think I have just the idea.” 

Reaching for a book he usually reads before bed, the Harbinger scooted closer, ensuring the open pages were visible to you. Pantalone knew that what troubled you did not require in-depth words or solutions. Instead, you sought a distraction from your troubled mind. Something to keep your saddened thoughts at bay while he spoke about whatever he could think of. 

“Then allow me to read for you while you rest easy, okay? Ahem…”

In the dimly illuminated bedroom, you found solace in the soothing voice of your beloved, your gaze tracing the words on the pages as Pantalone remained engrossed in his reading aloud. You kept quiet and still, seeing him flip the pages as he continued. Soon enough, the gentle cadence of his voice ushered you into the embrace of sleep, and you yielded willingly back to slumber. Pantalone detected your drooping head and quietly closed the book before planting a kiss on your forehead.

"Sleep well, dear." 

✧ Tartaglia blinked at you, his countenance solemn as he sat upright in bed. You mirrored his gaze, knowing perfectly well what he would say. You could smell it a mile away.

“Let me beat them!”

“No,” - you crossed your arms.

“Let me beat whoever bothers you in your nightmares”

“For the last time, Ajax, you can’t physically ‘fight’ nightmares! It’s a nightmare, not a person!”

Such was the course of your evening. Startled from a haunting dream, you found Childe by your side, showing more concern for your welfare than you did yourself. Instead, he insisted on vanquishing your nightmares with his fists alone.

“Oh come on, you know I’m just joking. I saw you gasping for air after you woke up so abruptly; don’t blame me for being concerned.” - Childe rolled his eyes, gently pulling you to rest on his arms. “Tell me, what did you see?”

You sighed deeply, remaining apprehensive despite his humorous jabs. After much contemplation, you decided it would be worse if you recited your nightmares vocally. “It… It doesn’t matter. It was a nonsensical nightmare, nothing to ponder about.”

The Harbinger frowned softly, he knew you well enough when something troubled you. And it was clear you felt anguished by the recent dream you had. Pressing further would only exacerbate it, instead, he decided to annoy you in a different manner

“Well, next time you have a bad dream… Call out for me. In your dreams I mean!” - He stated with a big smile.

“...What?”

“Think about it! Something is bothering you while you’re dreaming - you call out for me, and I stop my dreams to come to your dream.”

“That’s ridiculous,” - you chuckled

“And then, you know, pow, pow!” - Childe mimicked the motion of fistfighting, pretending to punch some invisible opponent who could be your potential enemy in a nightmare. In the meantime, you started laughing even more. “And there you go! Your nightmares are now rainbows and sunshine.”

You knew well what Tartaglia was doing. He aimed to lift you out of your forlorn state by sharing lighthearted jokes - and it was working. Tartaglia watched you laughing silly as he made some childish remarks, feeling victorious to bring in that smile he adores oh so much. It was his method of alleviating the tensions in your mind, and it proved effective as the two of you snuggled in bed, entertained by amusing banter until your worries subsided. Then, and only then, would you release a contented sigh and allow yourself to drift back into slumber in the comforting embrace of your beloved.

[marvelstan0905]

Random Kenji Sato Boyfriend Headcanons:

TW : fluffy/slight angst/ idk what else lmao

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

"Small Gestures"

Kenji is the king of small gestures. This man be peeling your oranges. Feeding you. If you have your menstrual days, Kenji keeps a stack of pads, wet wipes, tampons and clean menstrual cups everywhere and in the car. Kenji is the type to keep notifications on when you have your days or when your ovulating [do with that information what you will😈]

"Communication"

We all know what happened in the movie. We all know that Kenji rarely cries and he holds in his feelings till eventually he kinda bursts. With you, yes you, the best partner, you'd kinda have to coax it out of him. Get him to tell you what's bothering or what's wrong. It would take a lot of patient and understanding. Kenji would really try is damndest to communicate despite his habits.

"Intimacy"

Kenji would be really patient and understanding when it comes to sex and intimacy. The man would praise and worship you all night. We all know this man would be the type to pin your hands above your head and make you look into his eyes. I definetly feel like a Kenji is a hard dom/brat tamer kinda guy. I can definetly see the daddy kink coming. He's definetly an equal giver and receiver. Man's is definetly kinky and I definetly feel like he'd very open to try anything, long as he's in control. And his aftercare is top tier. The hot bath and cuddles with loving affirmations.

"Love & Marriage"

Don't know why, Kenji gives off 'dating to marry' vibes. The man's been distant with everybody, keeping people away at an arm's leg but after finally finding that perfect person. Kenji is all the way. He's commited. Forever. As in you won't shake him off ,even if you try [you wont😑]. He's the most loyal sweetheart and baby ever. Hurting our man here is like killing a puppy. Don't do it. I feel like he'd dead deadass get a tattoo with your name and the date of your birthday. That's how commited he is.

"Chivalry"

I'm talking opening doors, sliding out chairs. Kenji will hold your hand when you go down the stairs and when you're sitting down just to make sure you're safe and make sure you sit nicely. If you wear a skirt and it's cold, he'll lay his jacket on your legs. If you're cold in general his jacket is yours. His arms are yours. He just wants to make sure you're warm and happy. God forbid, it rains. Kenji won't even allow you outside because he doesn't want you to get cold but if you were already outside. You'd have most of the umbrella.

"Clinginess & Attention"

Clingy. He'll never ever let you go. Once you're his, you're trapped and commited [a dream ,really😌] Kenji would always find some time of way to be touching you. Somehow. His pinkies linked with yours or you're feet are touching. He just needs the contact. He's a clingy, baby. He needs your attention and love. He's been deprived🥺 give him the attention he deserves.

-What do you guys think? I've decided to open up requests but they'll be open starting 26 June at 5PM [MT ] up until 28th June 1PM [MT].I don't want to be overwhelmed or swapped!I've been feeling a little burned out nowadays hehe so I need to recuperate! Speaking of requests, If I don't feel like I can do it or it's just something I'm not comfortable with ,I will delete your ask! I'm sorry! Thank you so much for the love and support!

Gif credit @soranatus

[of-cauldrons-and-inkpens]

You Missed My Heart: PART 1

PART 1 LINK      |      PART 2 LINK      |   PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different. 

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not. 

Word Count: 11,107  Author’s Note: I wrote this instead of doing my college work, but I also didn’t proofread. Hopefully there aren’t too many typos! I’ll probably add more chapters in the following days/weeks Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

          Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

The dream was hazy. Miguel sighed as he began to inch toward the edge of the mattress, drifting out of the shared embrace that we had slept in. Arms and legs untangled from one another as he drifted away from me.

I reached my hand outward, catching onto his hand before he could slip away for good. “I need to go to work.” He whispered, his voice husky and warm from sleep. But, despite his protest, he lay back down beside me. “Don’t go.” I said. My hands worked their way through the darkness, moving to curl around his broad shoulders. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to feel his strong heartbeat against my chest and listen to him breathe one more time. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. I didn’t care that this was now a soft and distorted memory; this was all I had left of him. I had convinced myself weeks ago that if I dreamed of him enough, it would almost be like he wasn’t gone. “I have to. Alchemax is unveiling a new project today and I have to be there.” He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. His breath was warm, working as a perfect antagonist for the frigid air of our bedroom. “Please Miguel.” I begged. He cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss was languid and wet. Our bodies were still naked from the previous night’s activities as he rolled on top of me. “Miguel…” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me.” “I’m not going anywhere.” He said. His lips slipped off of mine as he lowered his face, moving so that his mouth could graze the shell of my ear. There, he whispered the one thing I thought I would never hear again. “I love you…”

Something brushed the side of my face, pulling me from my dream. I jerked upward, searching for what had caused it. But I couldn’t see through the pitch black of the bedroom. In the darkness, I was so sure that I could smell him. He had been dead for months, but his scent still lingered in the walls and all of the soft places in the house. It was to the point that I was terrified of moving or washing anything; if I did, that last piece of him would vanish forever.

Hot tears slid down my face.

I had been crying again. But that had become such a common occurrence that I couldn’t even be surprised. Tears slid down my neck, soaking into the collar of Miguel’s Alchemax t-shirt that had been worn thin. Crying had become an every night thing since the funeral. Maybe if I could understand what the hell even happened to him, then I could be okay. But there had been no information about any of it. I had been told there was an accident at work and that there was nothing that could have been done to save him. But the term accident meant so many different things.

I lifted my hand to my cheek to wipe away the next batch of tears. But, as my fingers brushed my skin, I couldn’t help but notice the distinct warmth on that side of my face.

Had someone been here?

Had the gentle brush been entirely in my head?

I swallowed hard as my eyes searched the darkness. “Miguel?” I asked. But there was no answer. The delusional part of me wanted to hear him stir inside of the bathroom that attached to the bedroom. I slid my hand outward, searching through the sheets that would always remain cold.

The black out curtains that covered my window blocked out any light from the city. The only light in the room was from the small machine that Miguel had set up in the corner. I was never sure what exactly it did, but it always gave off a pale blue glow.

I glanced around the room, seeing that the pictures were all still lying face down on the dresser and bookshelves.

Nothing was different. He was still dead, and I was still alone.

I swallowed hard as I reached for the bottle of sleeping pills that sat on the bedside table. I had gotten them after stepping off one of the curbs in Nueva York without looking. But, before anything could happen, a man had grabbed me, jerking me out of the way seconds before my body had the chance to collide with the car that was racing down the street. Maybe if I hadn’t been so exhausted, then I would have thought before I walked.

The pills were my only chance at getting any rest these days. I unscrewed the top of the bottle, dropped one of the white pills into my hand, and then replaced the white plastic lid. I discarded the bottle onto the nightstand and then popped the pill in my mouth.

I just needed to go to sleep. If I could sleep, then I could see him again.

I leaned back against the sheets, watching the walls of the hallway through the open door of our bedroom. If I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn to God that I saw a faint orange and pink glow dance against the walls before being consumed by darkness.

No dreams came. My vision was dark, trapping me in a dreamless darkness. The pills always made my body heavy with sleep; it was almost impossible to open my eyes when I was like this. I didn’t see him in my dreams, but I could hear him. His voice was faint, speaking in delicate murmurs.

Fingers brushed against the skin of my face as he pushed several of my curls behind my ears. It was something he had always done, especially when I was sitting on the couch beside him. I had always wondered if he did it so that he could see my face or if it was just his way of getting my attention. But I guess that didn’t matter now.

I flinched at the reminder.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Miguel whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. I felt the bed move under me, sinking on the edge as he sat down. “I’m gonna keep you safe.”

“You need to drop this.” A soft female voice said. Her voice was no more than a whisper.

“I can’t do that.” Miguel’s voice was firm; he had already made up his mind.

“Miguel, you’re torturing her. Just leave her alone.” The delicate voice pleaded. Behind my eyelids, I saw pink and honey color light flash. “Give her time. Let her mourn then let her move on. Maybe she could be happy. She could get married and have a good life.”

“Lyla, I’m not sure if you know this, but telling me that my wife is going to fuck someone else and that that’s why I should let her go has the exact opposite effect.”

“Let her be happy.” The girl pleaded.

“She should have died. I’m saving her.”

“Miguel, please let her go. Please, I really-” I heard him click something, making the second voice fall silent.

Warm arms slipped under my legs as I was overwhelmed by the smell of Miguel.

My Miguel.

He smelled faintly of cologne, sweat, and something else. He pulled me into his arms, laying my body against his strong chest. I felt him grab a heavy arm and place it on his shoulder. Beneath my fingers, I felt a weird material cover his skin.

What the hell?

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t force myself out of the dream. The medication weighed me down, anchoring me into this strange haze.

Miguel bounced me in his arms a couple of times. I groaned, feeling him stand up. One of the blankets caught on my foot, tugging on my tired body. Miguel gently tossed the blanket onto the bed, offering a few more gentle bounces to my body as he started to walk.

“You’re going to be so happy.” He whispered. Miguel pressed a second kiss against my skin.

Blinding light came streaming through the window. I winced, lifting my hand to shield my eyes. I lay there for a moment before a thought occurred to me.

When was the last time I had been awakened by sunlight?

Miguel had always worked such random hours that we had hung thick blackout curtains over the window so that we had a chance at getting some sleep.

“What?” I pushed myself up in the bed, feeling my t-shirt drop down to cover the soft skin of my stomach. But the left side was caught on something, keeping that side of my abdomen exposed. I glanced down to see a thick bracelet that had been attached to my wrist. I pulled the shirt off of the bracelet, allowing it to fall and give me some sense of modesty as I glared at the contraption.

What the hell was this thing?

I glanced around, searching for some idea as to what was going on.

The only clue was a bright orange post-it note that had been pressed onto the bedside table. It was sitting between a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Plucking the note off of the table, I quickly began to read it.

‘Please don’t be scared. I’ll be back soon. Take this for your head. It will take a bit to get used to all of this.’ It had been signed with a name that immediately made me shutter.

Miguel.

No. No. No.

Did I die?

Or did I finally go insane?

I pushed myself out of the bed, searching for some clue as to what the hell was going on. This was my bedroom. At least, it looked like it was. The closet was the same, the bookshelves were the same, even the weird off-blue shade that Miguel had picked for the walls was the exact same.

It was then that something caught my eye. All of the pictures were sitting upright. I could see our mutual smiles behind the glass. They were photos of us on dates, photos of us at the weird events that Alchemax held, and even some of the more intimate photos we had taken of us in bed with our bodies barely covered by the thin ocean of sheets.

I stepped forward, moving toward the closet. I jerked one of Miguel’s button-ups off of the hanger and inspected it. The spot where he had spilled wine on the cuff was missing. Instead, the material was bleach white.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Everything was familiar, but still foreign somehow. There were sheets that were the same color but didn’t have soft faded patches that had been acquired from stains during love making. There were clothes that I remembered wearing, but they didn’t have the small tears or stains in them. Everything was put together from memory, but it wasn’t my memory.

If I didn’t look too closely at it, it could almost be perfect.

Slowly, I stepped forward. As I moved toward the dresser, I stopped. In my home, my real home, there was a creak in the floorboard. Miguel had spent an entire weekend trying to fix it after we had moved in, but it was all in vain.

Maybe I was just paranoid. That was the only solution.

I leaned backward, then forward again in an attempt to get the floor to creak.

A deafening silence filled the room.

I reached down and pulled at the bracelet. It was heavy on my arm. I slipped my fingers under the band, attempting to pry it off of me. But it was no use. It had been secured at the base, making it impossible to remove.

Then, I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

I bolted from the bedroom, moving down the hallway. When I reached the stairs, I took them two by two. Frankly, I was amazed that I didn’t slip and break my neck. But fear is a hell of a motivator. I sprinted through the living room, searching for the front door of our house. I threw open the front door and rushed outside, ignoring the fact that I wore only a thin t-shirt and underwear.

I needed to get the hell out of there; I didn’t care about being modest at this point.

It was Nueva York; the buildings were the same, so was the noise. Sounds of construction, traffic, children playing, and music blasting filled the air. But, I couldn’t help but notice the main thing that was missing: no people or vehicles.

“Hello?” I called.

But I was all alone.

“Hello?” I screamed.

Something grabbed my hand, jerking me backwards. I stumbled but was caught before I could collide with the pavement. Strong arms curled around my waist and hauled me upward. I flailed my arms and kicked out my legs in an attempt to get free, but it was no use. The figure turned around and began to carry me back to the house as if I was nothing more than a doll. “You weren’t supposed to leave the house.”

I knew that voice. It was the one that haunted my dreams and filled my every ‘what-if.’

Miguel.

“What the fuck?” I screamed.

“Stop trying to fight me.” His voice was flat. I glanced behind me to look at him. He wasn’t my Miguel. His eyes flickered somewhere between chocolate brown and blood red. The muscles on his shoulders were more defined and the line between his eyebrows was deeper. But maybe that was because of the dark scowl that he wore as he carried me up the small steps of the brownstone.

When he stepped inside of the house, he threw me onto the hardwood floor. As my head hit the floor, he reached behind him and flipped the deadbolt.

That was to make sure that I didn’t try and escape again.

Miguel wasn’t dressed how I was used to. My Miguel always wore some kind of standard, normal clothes. Nicer clothes for work, soft pants, and sweatshirts at home. But this man, the imposter, wore a red and blue costume that stretched over his hard muscles and accentuated his domineering frame.

“You were supposed to wait. I said I would be back soon.”

“Who the hell are you?” I twisted my body so that I was sitting up on the hardwood floor. I pulled my legs close to my body, attempting to hide my thin underwear from him.

“You’re joking right?” He asked. He stood over me, inspecting me with a look of both confusion and disappointment.

“No, I’m not. And what the hell did you put on my arm?” I shook my wrist, trying to loosen the device.

“Stop trying to take it off. If you do, you’ll die. Unless that’s what you’re hoping for.” He said as he studied me. I froze.

“What?”

“It keeps you alive in this universe. You’re not from here; you don’t belong here, so if you take that off, you’ll glitch until you die.”

I glanced around the room, taking in all of the little imperfections. The room was wrong, reminding me that I was in some kind of strange prison.

“What is all of this?” I asked. Miguel stared at me at if the answer was so obvious.

“It’s our home.”

“No… no, it isn’t.” I said. “What did you do to me?” I pushed myself off of the floor. As I did, I pulled at the bottom of the t-shirt. The man stared at me, his eyes dancing between the terrified look on my face at the pale skin of my naked legs. As his eyes drank me in, I could see them turning to a deeper shade of red.

“Who are you?” I asked. He let out a dark chuckle. As he did, I couldn’t help but notice that sharp white fangs that protruded from his mouth.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that.” I said. He rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ve been very sweet to you. But now you’re starting to piss me off.” His voice was sharper this time. He moved toward me and I stepped back.

“Why do you look like him?” I asked. He knew exactly what I meant.

“Because I am him… in a way.”

“I don’t understand.” I said. He once again tried to fill the distance between the two of us. I stepped backward, feeling my back hit the side of the couch. “You died… he died.”

“In your universe, yes. Please call me Miguel. I know this may be new to you, but I am your husband, just a different version of him. I mean you no harm.” The dull ache from being thrown on the floor said differently. “I did all of this because I love you.”

“You don’t know me.” I said. I slid my hands against the side of the couch in an attempt to find something to cling to. He let out a dry laugh.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I know you in every single universe. I’ve known more versions of you than you can imagine. Versions where you live, versions where you die. So, in a way, I know you better than you even know yourself.”

“If you knew me so well, then you would know Miguel and I never married.”

“Purely semantics. Besides, that’s something that I fully intend on correcting.”

“You’re insane.” I said.

“Don’t fucking call me that. You have no idea how hard I worked to fix everything for you; how hard I worked to make sure that everything would be perfect.”

“Miguel, where the fuck am I?” I demanded. “And I don’t want you to keep saying I’m home. This isn’t my home. Where am I?”

“You could be a little bit more grateful. You should have died.” He said. “You weren’t supposed to be pulled out of the way of a car and you were.”

Anger flashed through me. Just looking at him filled me with a mixture of rage and sadness that mixed together in a sludge that did nothing but make me want scream at him. “I’m supposed to be dead? You’re dead! I went to your funeral! There’s a goddamn sign in the Alchemax lobby for you.” My throat burned and my eyes stung with tears. “Was that all some kind of sick lie?”

“No, your Miguel did die.” His voice was matter of fact- almost cold. It was as if he had said this all a million times before. Hell, for all I knew, he had. Maybe this was some kind of sick game he liked to play. “But, that’s no matter. I’m here now. I made a little pocket universe for you; where you can live and where you being here won’t affect anything. You can stay here with me, and things will be exactly as they should be.” I glanced at the locked door behind him. “You being here won’t affect any other universe and it keeps you out of your own, making sure that all of the canon events happen exactly as they should. The canon is safe and you get to live. Two birds, one stone.” He was so proud of himself.

“Do I have a choice in staying with you?”

His face twitched at my question. “I’ve watched you cry for him at night. I’ve heard you scream and beg for him to come back. You wear his clothes and listen to his music and talk to yourself like he’s still there. For God’s sake, I’ve watched you touch yourself to pictures of him. I just assumed you would have had a warmer reception to me.”

“You had no right to spy on me.” I winced, remembering the feeling of my face being touched in my sleep. He had been there, watching me as I mourned. Besides, there was something in the way he emphases a warmer reception. He was hoping I would immediately adore him and drag him into the bedroom to screw until I couldn’t walk straight. He wanted us to immediately slip into some weird little habit where I pretended to be his loving wife. He said I died in other universes. Was I his replacement, just as he hoped to be mine?

Miguel sucked on his teeth before he stepped forward.

Without thinking, I twisted my body around and bolted toward the kitchen. I had no idea where I was even going; I just wanted to be away from him.

I got about five steps away before he reached outward and grabbed me. This time, his hold was harder. His arms crushed themselves against my body as he lifted me upward and began to carry me toward the stairs. This time, he was holding me so tight that I was sure he was going to break my ribs.

“You’re hurting me.” I gasped.

“Then stop trying to leave me.” He said. “You’re not going to get far and you’re just going to end up hurting yourself.”

He carried me up the stairs, his eyes dark red in the dim light. He carried me to the bedroom at the end of the hall. When he reached the room, he looked down at me.

“Say you love me.” It was a second chance. I paused for a moment, trying to find a way to fake sincerity.

He wasn’t my Miguel. He wasn’t my angel who I curled up with on the couch or who insisted on making me listen to old music that nobody but him would ever like. This man didn’t have that gentleness about him; he wasn’t sweet or loving.

“I love you.” I tried. I knew I sounded like I was faking it.

“At least I know you’re a shitty actress.” He muttered. He dropped me on the floor of the bedroom and then stepped outside before I had a chance to make another getaway. He slammed the door shut.

“Miguel, please let me out.”

“Ah, now you want to be nice to me.” He mocked.

“You kidnapped me. I’m sorry if I’m not the person you were hoping for. If you want someone better, just get a different me from some other place. I’m sure the universe is just littered with them.”

“I saved you. Your universe would have collapsed if it weren’t for me. I offered you the chance to live in a different place, where none of that can ever hurt you and you hate me for it. You want to be pissed? Be my guest. But in time, you’ll love me. I know you will. You always do.”

“Yeah, Miguel, it doesn’t feel like you’re giving me a choice in the matter.” I said. “Why can’t you just find another girl? Anyone else?”

“It has to be you. Because it always is, no matter what. Every time, we end up together so I can’t just grab some random person. Besides, there aren’t too many of you who aren’t already with some version of me. Stealing wives from other versions of me just sounds wrong.”

Yeah, that would be the wrong part. Not the whole kidnapping thing. He keeps flipping between lunatic and romantic who is waxing poetic about our deep love. Maybe I would have been charmed if I had actually known this man. Plus, there was something weird about the way he said it. Had he considered it? How did he find widows versus wives?

“Miguel, sweetheart, how about you let me out of here and then we can find some kind of arrangement that we both like?”

He rolled his eyes as he locked the door from the outside. “When you decide to be the version of you that I know and love, then we can talk.”

Bastard.

I kicked the door, but I knew it was useless. He was already walking away from the door. In the distance, I heard his voice as he began to speak to someone else.

“Lyla, I’m a little busy right now.”

“It’s urgent.” She said.

It was hours before he came back. I didn’t hear him when he was stepping toward the door. I only heard him when he unlocked the door and let out a low sigh.

“I brought you dinner. It’s in the kitchen. I expect you to eat dinner with me tonight.” He said.

“Thank you.” I squeaked out. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. I was starving. Besides, if this was his idea at a peace offering, who was I to reject. He obviously didn’t want to return me to my real home. Maybe I should just get used to this. “I’ll be down in a minute. I want to clean up a little bit.” I said.

“I’ll get everything ready.” He said. With that, I heard him step away from the door of the bedroom. At least he was receptive to me needing a moment, rather than dragging me downstairs to eat right now.

I sighed to myself as I pushed myself off of the bed. I couldn’t just wear a t-shirt and underwear. I already looked like an absolute mess. My face was swollen from crying and my curls had turned into a frizzy mess from being manhandled so many times in the last twenty-four hours.

My best bet was a shower to calm me down and hopefully take away some of the puffy redness around my eyes and nose. I didn’t want him to see that I had sobbed when I was alone; he may have carted me around in my underwear, but I still had my dignity.

There was a small bathroom attached to the room. It was one that I was familiar with. It was exactly like the one at my house; there weren’t any superficial tweaks that he had made. At least, none that I could see upon first inspection.

I quickly showered, scrubbing my body gently as I went. As I slid a loofah along the sides of my body, I winced. Dark bruises were starting to blossom across my ribs from where he had squeezed as he carried me.

Damn it, that hurt!

I winced as I washed my body, careful not to aggravate any new sore spots that I had gotten. I then washed my hair, making sure that it was nice and clean.

Stepping out of the tub, I realized that I hadn’t grabbed a towel. I was sure that he would put them where I always did. After all, that was really the only place for them in the bathroom. I quickly ducked down and pulled open the door to the bathroom cabinet. The towels had been stacked on one side, random trinkets and things he had brought for me rested on the other. I snatched a towel from the pile as I eyed the objects.

They were the usual fair, mixed in with a few oddballs. Tampons, deodorant, razors, women’s shaving cream, a perfume that I wore pretty often, a couple of bottles of hand and body lotion, a toothbrush, toothpaste, an eyelash curler, a new tube of mascara, hair gel, and a dozen or so other hair things. I sighed and quickly added several of the things to the counter. I needed to brush my teeth and do my hair. As I stacked those things on the counter, I couldn’t help but notice that there were more things resting against the very back of the shelf. Against the wall sat two small pink boxes that were still in their clear wrapping from the drugstore. I frowned as I pulled them forward, moving them closer so that I could see them. The first was a new box of pregnancy tests. I shook the box; sure enough, it actually contained what it said it did. Part of me expected the box to be a decoy and to either be empty or filled with something outwardly sinister, like a camera. Why did he buy me pregnancy tests? I flipped the second box over and was greeted by a bulk box of ovulation test strips, meant to check for when I was ovulating. I winced equally at both of the packages. I quickly shoved them back into the cabinet and closed the door.

Part of me wanted to know why those were what he chose to buy me; the other part was scared to know the answer.

I quickly stood up and began to dry off. It was a short time between when I finished showering and when I stepped out into the bedroom, my hair styled with my curls down, my teeth brushed, and my skin dried of any excess water.

Stepping to the closet, I noticed that all of the dresses in the closet were too formal. Most of the clothes that I typically wore were missing. No t-shirts, jeans, or even standard pajamas. Damn it, Miguel. I quickly walked over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer.

Based on what was there, my best bet was the baby pink nightie that lay on the top of the pile of clothes. It was obviously new; a tag was still attached to the spaghetti strap and frankly, I had never seen it before, so I figured that it was something he had picked out himself.

I pulled the dress on, wincing when it stopped several inches above my knees. I pulled on a pair of underwear and then snagged a grey cardigan from the closet in an attempt to have a chance at being warm.

What I was wearing was closer to lingerie than actual clothing, but that didn’t seem to matter at this point. He had dragged me around twice in my underwear, on top of the fact that he said he had watched me touch myself to him. My face burned at that thought.

Besides, if he was right and we were always together, then none of this would be new to him. But maybe it would make him be nicer to me if he thought I was being nicer to him.

I stepped through the hallway, careful not to lose my footing in the dim light. As I went, I couldn’t help but notice one of the more glaring differences between my universe and this was. The door to the room that rested next to the bedroom wasn’t stained with its dark russet shade. He had painted this door yellow. That was clearly a recent change; the air still smelled heavily of paint. But why the hell had he painted it in the first place? Maybe he was used to it being a different color and was perfecting it to fit his little fantasy.

I made my way downstairs. He was sitting in the small breakfast nook that rested in the kitchen. He had set out the white plates and arranged the food so that I had easy access to everything. As I rounded the corner, he glanced upward. Something stirred in his dark eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Miguel was sitting at the table, pushing around an eggroll with a plastic fork. He had changed out of his standard red and blue spider suit into an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants.

Lucky bastard.

He looked tired. He had a dark stain of blood on his left cheek and I was sure that it wasn’t his. I didn’t want to think about whether or not the owner of that blood was still alive, because I knew there was a good chance they weren’t. I watched him for a moment before I stepped away from the table. He frowned, watching me closely. I was sure he was watching to verify that I didn’t make another run for it. I quickly pulled a washcloth out of one of the lower cabinets by the sink and then turned on the faucet. Once the water ran warm, I wet the rag, wrung it out so that it wasn’t dripping, and then I turned off the water.

I stepped back into the small dining area. “Miguel.” I said in an attempt to get his attention. His tired eyes drifted up to meet mine. The eyes that were once a burning red were now a warm brown. They were almost the shade of coffee. He watched me with such an intensity that it made my face turn a dark maroon. I was sure that he noticed, but he didn’t remark on it.

I leaned down slightly, moving so that my standing height could line up with his sitting size. God, he was so damn tall. “Miguel, here. You have blood on your face.” He reached up to take the cloth but was surprised when I gently pressed the warm material to his face. “Just hold still for a second.” I whispered. For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had changed out of his suit for comfort or if it was just as coated in blood as his face was. The idea made me shudder internally.

I gently wiped away the dried blood, folding the cloth as I went so that I didn’t rub old blood against his face. When I reached the hollow of his cheek, I slipped one hand under his strong jaw and had him tilt his face to the side in an attempt to give me a better angle. He closed his eyes, giving in to the gentle touch.

He was touch starved. I could tell by the way his breathing slowed and the hairs on his arm stood on end. He wasn’t used to being touched; not anymore. Not in any way that offered any kind of tenderness.

“There you go. All clean.” I said. He opened his eyes and he nodded. His eyes then dipped downward toward my dress.

“Nice outfit.”

“It would appear that most of my actual clothing is gone. So, I have plenty of clothing for the bustling city life outside and I have plenty of lingerie, but everything else is a bit sparse.”

A smile pulled at his lips with my comment. Then, he nodded. “I’ll bring you your clothes from your home universe.”

“Thank you.” I said. Miguel leaned forward and grabbed a container of orange chicken.

He had ordered us Chinese food. It was something that I couldn’t help but note was the same as we had had on our first date. I glanced at the label and confirmed that it was the same restaurant and everything. We had eaten there the night we had first met. We had dipped out of a party at Alchemax early. I hadn’t wanted to be there, but my father had worked there for so many years that it almost felt like an obligation. When I had turned to leave too fast, I knocked wine all over Miguel, but he hadn’t seemed to mind.

“Are you okay?” This Miguel asked. I quickly nodded as I was pulled from the distant memory.

“I am. Thank you for dinner.” I pushed a small amount of food onto my plate and then returned the container to the center of the table.

“You need to eat; really eat.” He said. His brown eyes danced over my face as he searched for something in my gaze. He was hoping to find some kind of love there; a familiarity or affection that I could offer him.

“I feel sick.”

“That’s just because you aren’t used to being in a different universe. Consider it like jet lag. You’ll get used to it in a few days.” He noticed when I didn’t move to eat. I stared into space, feeling my previous convictions about being sweet to him begin to slip away. “I could always make you eat.” He said.

“You wouldn’t do that.” I muttered. He let out a low sigh and then returned to his food. He wasn’t going to argue with me. Or maybe I was right; maybe there were some things he wouldn’t be willing to do to me. But he had walked in sporting horror-movie levels of blood on his skin. So, who knows?

“Is there anything that’s bothering you?” He asked. “You can always ask me.”

“Are you going to lock me up in my room again if you don’t like the question?” I asked. He didn’t respond.

Tread lightly, I guess.

“Why do you look different than my Miguel?”

“I’m Spiderman. Your Miguel wasn’t. He was close, but he didn’t quite get there before…” His voice faded off. He was trying to be sensitive to me, in his own fucked up way. Or maybe his own narcissism wouldn’t allow him to talk about his failures, even in a different universe.

“Do all Spidermen look like you?” I asked.

“Are they all so devastatingly handsome? Afraid not, sweetheart. They don’t usually look the same. Hell, they can look like anything. I found one that’s literally a cartoon pig. But appearances aside, they can mostly do the same things: climb walls, shoot webs, the whole lot.”

“Ah.” I said. “Do they all have the…” I tapped my finger to my teeth, motioning for the fangs that protruded anytime he spoke. He shrugged.

“That seems to be a thing entirely unique to me.”

Did I sense a bit of insecurity there?

He furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to the dinner plate. Damn it, now I felt bad.

Why the hell did I feel bad for hurting his feelings? He kidnapped me and had dragged me around like a rag doll. But I couldn’t ignore the guilt that started to brew inside of me.

I sighed as I moved closer to him. Even if he was my captor, I couldn’t help but see him as the man who I still loved. Even if that ended at the physical resemblance. I slid to the edge of my chair and reached my arm out for his face. My fingers slid against the rough stubble of his jaw, tracing the side of his face for a moment. He leaned his head to the side, moving into my touch.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He nodded, lifting a hand upward. He laid his fingers on top of mine, holding my hand there against his skin. God, he was burning up. Did he always feel like this? Maybe he was actually sick. My Miguel never ran this warm. Or maybe it was just a side-effect of the spider bite. I didn’t understand any of that well enough to question it and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask about it.

Suddenly, something clattered to the ground in the kitchen, making me jump. I pulled my hand back from his face, feeling the reality of the situation settle in. I slid my hand back into my lap, watching as his eyes lingered on for entirely too long. His brown eyes swam with a deep want. He wanted me to keep touching him.

Maybe sleeping with him would knock him out of this lovesick spell. Or maybe it would only make it worse. He stared at me, moony eyed and desperate. He was Miguel, even if he wasn’t my version of him. Maybe he could genuinely love me, even if only in his own fucked up way.

“If you loved him so deeply, do you think you could ever love me the same way?” He asked.

“Miguel…” I said. His face twitched slightly. I couldn’t say no; maybe I could, eventually. Or maybe he would become crueler, and I would hate him every second of my life. I didn’t know what to tell him. He leaned back in his chair, his face twisting in an attempt to conceal a deep pain.

Change the conversation quick. Change it before the night could descend in chaos with either us screaming at one another or him locking me in the room again. Or maybe he would just send me back to my own universe to die. After all, if he couldn’t get what he wanted from me, then there was no use in keeping me here.

He made a low noise and then returned to eating, never saying anything about how I had dismissed him.

“Why did you paint the door in the hallway?” I asked. He paused, trying to think up an answer. Then, he swallowed his dinner and shook his head.

“Just decided that it looked better that way.”

“But why? What was wrong with the original color?”

“Does it really bother you that much that I changed one thing?” He asked. His voice had an edge to it now. I clearly was not supposed to ask about the door. But why? It was just a damn door.

“No, but it’s weird that that is the one thing you decided to change. I figured that there was probably a reason.” He rolled his eyes as he took another big bite of food.

“Can’t you just be happy? Most people would overjoyed if they had the opportunity that you do.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure that most people would just love to be stolen from their bed by their boyfriend’s psycho twin. Frankly, that’s every woman’s dream.” My voice was dripping with so much sarcasm that he rolled his eyes. “How long are you planning on keeping this up? This isn’t the Truman Show. You can’t just keep me locked up here for the rest of my life so that you can get your kicks spying on me. And I’m not going to act out some fifties sitcom for you.”

“You don’t have to. I just want you to be… you. Or, as close to it as possible.” He said. As close to me as possible… the words rattled around in my head for a moment.

“You want me to be her.” His face twitched. “I lost him and you lost someone who looks exactly like me.”

Dear God, that was exactly it. All of my suspicions were correct. I was supposed to play house with him, while pretending to be a very specific version of myself that he had once loved. I had to be the perfect version of his wife; the one who doted on and loved him, or else this was all for nothing.

“Have you ever read The Great Gatsby?” I asked. He stared at me, his gaze littered with something.

“Tread lightly, sweetheart.”

“The book is about a man who tries to relive his past. He is so sure that repeating everything and making little adjustments will fix his world.” I swallowed hard, trying to make sure he understood what I was saying. I wasn’t his toy; I wasn’t meant to be wound up to perform for him. “Miguel, you can’t fix things by redoing them. People die. You have to let them go. If your wife died, you need to let her go.”

“I don’t hear you saying that about him.” He sneered.

“That’s because I didn’t kidnap you. I was willing to let you… to let him go.” All of the terms were confusing. This man looked like my Miguel, but he wasn’t. He was a different version of him, which I guess could also make him him, just a different kind. God, I was confusing myself.

“That’s bullshit. I know you want him back. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look at me.”

“I think what you’re seeing is a mixture of fear and your own reflection.”

“You love me.” He said.

“I don’t know you, Miguel. I don’t know who you are. I know who you look like, but that doesn’t really help your situation.” I paused for a long moment. “How did she die?” I asked. He shook his head.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” He snapped. I flinched at his words.

“I have the right to know how she died.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t even know how your own husband died and you think you have the right to pry into my life.” With that, he pushed himself up from the table.

He tossed the plate into the sink and it shattered against the metal of the basin. I heard him swear in Spanish under his breath. He was pissed but he hadn’t meant to do that. Maybe that was just an every day occurrence with spider strength.

He began to head to the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. As he stepped, I heard him swearing under his breath. I also heard my name several times.

“Miguel, where are you going?” I asked.

“You hate me so much, maybe it would be better if I wasn’t around.”

“Miguel, where are you going?” I repeated. He muttered more words under his breath. I watched as he pushed several buttons on the sides of his wrist device. He flipped a top piece on the metal bracelet.

“Lyla-“ he started.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I pushed myself up from the table, following him as he left the kitchen. He didn’t reply. I rounded the corner, following as he stepped into the living room. Upon entering, I was nearly blinded by a massive orange and pink hole that swirled and twisted in the center of the room. With every step he took, he drifted closer to it.

So, that was how he managed to leave and then come back. If what he wore on his wrist was capable of doing it, I wondered if mine was, too. No, surely not. The intent was to keep me here; giving me an opportunity to escape would defeat the entire purpose. He said that if I took it off, I would die. I had no choice but to believe him on that front.

“Miguel.” Still no answer. “Where are you going?” He stepped toward the portal without a sound.

“Miguel, where the hell are you going?” I repeated.

He rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the device on his wrist.

“If you leave, what the hell am I supposed to do? There aren’t any people outside. I’m going to have to guess that all of the buildings are empty. Are you coming back? Am I going to starve to death? What if I get hurt? What if I fall down the stairs and die? When the hell are you coming back? How am I supposed to contact you?” The words fell out of my mouth so fast that I didn’t have the chance to consider if these were stupid questions.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” He scoffed. But he didn’t offer me any kind of actual answer.  

“Miguel, you said you were my husband. You can’t just abandon me.” He flinched, but he still did not turn around. “Please…” I begged. If he left, I was stranded. At least with him here, I was guaranteed human contact and sustenance.

“Miguel, I need you.” I said. As the words left my mouth, I did the only thing I could think of to get his attention. I slid my hand up to the cardigan and quickly slipped it off of my shoulders. He didn’t seem to notice or care when it dropped to the ground below me. I then reached upward and grabbed onto the thin spaghetti straps of the pink nightgown. Without hesitation, I pulled them over either shoulder, allowing the gown to slide entirely off my body and pool onto the floor at my feet.

“Miguel.” I repeated. This time, my voice was no louder than a whisper. That was enough to get his attention. Or maybe he had heard the dress gather on the floor at my feet. I swallowed hard, feeling the cold bite at my bare skin. I was standing almost naked in the middle of the living room, wearing only a thin pair of underwear that offered very little coverage.

Miguel glanced backward. His eyes caught expanse of my bare skin and I swore I saw him smile.

“Don’t leave.” I said. I lifted my hands and crossed my arms. It was a force of habit. I felt so exposed like this. Though, I quickly lowered my hands, knowing that getting his attention was my best chance at him staying.

He turned around to face me. “Please say something, Miguel.” I whispered. The longer I went without a reaction, the more I started to feel like an idiot for this. Maybe I had just made myself look stupid in front of him. Or, better yet, maybe this was something his wife wouldn’t have done; maybe this would make him send me back home to die.

He slunk forward, a predator approaching prey. I saw the portal swirl into a smaller and smaller hole in the universe. Then, it closed, leaving us alone in the dim light of the living room.

Miguel moved so that he was only a few inches in front of me. The material of his shirt grazed my naked skin, making me wince. The shirt was too rough against my goosebump littered flesh. He stared down at me. As he did, his eyes turned from warm brown to a deep red again.

His palm drifted up to cup my cheek. His skin burned to the touch. I swallowed hard, feeling his fingers stroke the side of my face. It was almost as if he was petting me; like I was a toy for him to play with. He leaned down. His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Let me know if I hurt you.”

“Huh?” He pressed his mouth against mine, hard. His lips were warm as he began to work them, moving them so that they forced my mouth open. I moaned, overwhelmed by it all. As his lips slid against mine, I was sure that I would be bruised tomorrow.

A fang brushed my bottom lip, making me gasp. “Gentle, Miguel.” I whispered.

“Sorry.” His warm breath covered my face. He smelled intoxicating. He straightened his stance, moving away from me. When he pulled away, I let out an audible whimper.

God, please tell me I didn’t genuinely want him. I swallowed hard, feeling myself getting slick between my thighs. I was sure that if he looked, he would see a spot forming in my underwear.

I wanted to hold him. I tried to grab his shoulders, but our heights were too off. He was too tall for me to grab hold of. I pushed myself onto my tippy toes, but even that wasn’t enough. I was still too short for him. Miguel noticed this and leaned downward, allowing me to curl my arms around his strong shoulders.

“That’s my girl.” He slipped his hands down and curled his fingers around my bare thighs. He jerked my body upward. I curled my legs around his hips. He was already getting hard, causing his pajama bottoms to strain.

Miguel stepped forward, carrying me up the stairs. I knew where we were going: the bedroom. I pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. Even in the dark, I could tell he smiled.

He was getting exactly what he had wanted. But I couldn’t bring myself to make it all stop. I wanted him. I had craved him for so long and here he was. He wasn’t my Miguel, but maybe he wouldn’t die. He was stronger than my Miguel. Maybe that would allow him to stick around.

He twisted the door handle, leaving deep dents in the shape of his fingers in the cold metal. He was trying his hardest to be gentle with me, but I knew it was a battle he would most likely lose.

He tossed me on the bed, throwing me just a tad too hard. I landed on the opposite side of the mattress, groaning as my head almost collided with the wooden headboard. “Miguel.”

“I know, I know.” He teased. He flipped his hand over, shooting a fine web that caught my ankle. “Come here, sweetheart.” He rolled the webbing around his fingers, pulling it tight. I gasped, feeling my body sliding across the sheets. He dragged me down to the edge of the bed.

“Miguel!” I squealed. He smirked as he pressed his knees into the bed, pulling me so that I was only a few inches away from him. He pulled the web off my skin, making sure that it didn’t hurt me.

“Do you do that a lot?” I asked.

“As often as you, sweetheart. Next time, I can web you to the headboard.” My face flashed bright red. He chuckled.

Miguel reached down and grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt. He hauled it upward, pulling it over his head before discarding it on the floor. Taut muscles danced under his skin. Every inch of him was bound in hard muscle, covered in perfect skin.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my knee. His fingers wandered up my thighs, feeling my bare skin. He pushed his other hand into the mattress.

“Miguel, please.”

“Please what?” He asked. I took his free hand in mine and guided it up to my chest. He moaned, offering a soft squeeze.

Miquel scrambled up to my chest. He caught my nipple in his mouth and moaned, licking the sensitive skin as he sucked. His fingers kneaded my other breast, stopping every once in a while to offer the hard peak a gentle pinch.

I brushed my fingers through his dark hair. He smiled against my skin, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “What?” I asked.

“Let me know if I’m too rough with you.” With that he slinked down to the warm skin of my thighs. He traced his lips across the bare skin. As he went, he opened his lips to gently suck and kiss the bare flesh. Every so often I would feel a burst of pain that lasted no longer than a second. He mumbled something against my skin. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, moving so that I could see what he was doing.

Another sharp pain shot through my left thigh as he buried his face in my skin. Miguel glanced upward, feeling my eyes on him. His fangs had nipped my bare skin, making me yelp. “I’ll be more gentle.” His voice was warm and weighted with lust.

He slipped upward and slid his fingers under the waist of my panties. He bit the material with his teeth. I heard him snip the material and rolled my eyes.

“You can’t do that to all of my clothes. I barely have any to begin with.”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He pressed a warm kiss against my bare hip. Then, he moved to the other side. He repeated the same action, slicing through the material using his fangs. He placed a kiss on that side, as well.

“You’re such a showoff.”

“Am not.”

“You could have just pulled them off of me the normal way.” I fought back a laugh.

“I can bench press a city bus. I don’t need to showoff to you. Besides, learn to have some sense of romance.” He threw the remains of the panties onto the floor. He immediately pressed a soft kiss against the mound that had been covered by my underwear.  

He was extremely careful when he shifted downward. But the dull ache on the skin of my thighs where he had bit made me want to make my only request. “Hey, no teeth.”

“Funny, that’s what I always tell you.” He muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Lay back and hush up.”

“You’re so damn bossy.” I shifted on the mattress, spreading my legs wider for him. He placed his hand across my folds and gently spread them to expose my clit. He flicked his tongue across my clit. “Fuck, Miguel.” I lifted my hips off the bed, moving closer to his face.

He started to work, flicking his tongue over my clit as the index finger on his free hand traced my opened. He collected my wetness on his finger, sliding it around to make sure that I was good to go. Then, he slipped in his middle and index finger, sinking in until his knuckles touched my pussy.

I moaned, feeling his tongue work its magic.

Fuck, he was good at this.

He curled his fingers inside of me, brushing my sweet spot. I grabbed the back of his head, feeling his head bob under my palm as he licked.

Then, something occurred to me. He knew every inch of my body because he had fucked me thousands of times in the past. Even if it wasn’t me, it was a girl who was exactly like me. Maybe I was just that predicable. Or maybe he was just that good.

He picked up his speed, lapping between my folds as I curled my fingers in his hair. I was close and he could feel it. He could feel the twitches and miniatures spasms on his tongue as he worked. “Miguel, I’m close!” I whimpered.

He licked faster. Suddenly, pleasure shot through me, filling me with a white-hot heat. I moaned, spasming around his fingers as I came undone.

Miguel whispered something into my thigh as he pushed himself off the bed. Then, he pulled down his pajama bottoms, allowing for his cock to spring upward. It smacked against his lower stomach, heavy and decorated with a dark vein that ran along the underside. He kicked his pants off into the floor and then crawled on top of me.

He pressed a soft kiss on my lips. I could taste myself on his lips.

“This may hurt at first. I won’t move until you’re ready.” He said. He reached down between us. I watched as he grabbed his dick, stroked himself twice, and then lined himself up with my entrance. Without another word, he slid inside, making me gasp. I curled my legs around his hips, pulling him in deep as possible. “That’s my girl.”

I was overwhelmed with a stretching sensation. Arms rested on either side of my head as he stayed in place, waiting for me. After a moment, I leaned forward and kissed him, giving him the go ahead. One hand drifted up to my face. He caressed my cheek and his lips glided against mine.

He drew his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out. Then, thrusted upward, hitting deep inside of me. I gasped into his mouth. “I forgot how tight you are.” He murmured, his words slurring together.

My hands slid down his muscled back as he started to fuck himself into me. All the while, he kept his mouth on mine. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as he worked.

“Miguel…” I moaned, rocking my hips against him. I could feel my lower stomach tightening.

Suddenly, he whispered my name. It was so gentle that it was almost unsettling, considering the circumstances. I glanced up to meet his gaze. But as my eyes met his, he dipped downward. He buried his face in the curve of my neck so that I couldn’t see his eyes.

“Miguel, what’s wrong?”

He rutted his hips upward, burying himself as deep as possible. I gasped, digging my nails into his back. Despite how hard I had sunk them in, they didn’t break the skin. He was indestructible… at least, physically. I slid one hand across the skin of his back, moving to his dark hair. I could have sworn I heard him murmuring something into my neck. I could feel his lips moving against my skin, offering some kind of low prayer. But to who?

“Miguel…” He pulled his hips back again and then quickly slid inside of me again, grinding his hips against me to get a reaction. I gasped, tightening my hold on his hair.

“Say you love me.” His voice was dreamy, and his words slurred from pleasure.

“What?” I asked. It caught me off guard.

“Say it.”

“I love you.” I felt his hips still their movements. He was weighing the authenticity of my words. After a moment, he lifted his head from my neck.

“Say it again.” His eyes peered into mine. He was searching for something in my stare.

“I love you.”

“Good girl.” With that, he continued to beat into me, groaning when I would tense around him.

We were both close. I could tell by the chorus of whimpers and moans that were filling the room. That familiar tightening in my stomach was close to coming entirely undone.

He pivoted his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside of me. Miguel stared down at my features. He wanted something very specific from me before he finished. He ground his hips, making me gasp.

Fucking hell, Miguel.

With that, I felt myself come undone. Pleasure shot through me, making me clamp down on his dick. He grunted, never stopping his movements. “Miguel, I love you!” He groaned at my words. He kept hitting deep inside of me, making sure to grind himself against me every couple of thrusts.

His orgasm overtook him. He groaned my name as he gave one final thrust, hitting deep. I felt his body tense under my hands.

Slowly, we both came down from our highs. We were dragged back to the reality of the bedroom. The day had faded into night, leaving us in darkness.

He had finished inside of me. I could feel a deep warmth inside of my stomach. I also felt a distinct wetness that was hard to ignore. I sighed, relaxing into the mattress. I unhooked my legs, waiting for him to slide out of me. But, instead, he reached behind him and closed my legs again.

“No…” He murmured. Then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against my lips. In this position, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was so intimate; so loving. Maybe he really did see me as his wife. He pressed another gentle kiss against my mouth. I closed my eyes, giving into the softness of the moment.

“You have to do something for me.” He said. I opened my eyes to look at him.

“Okay.”

“I want you to love me like you loved him. I want you to look at me like I’m your hero and that I’m special.” He inhaled sharply before he reached forward to brush one of my curls off of my forehead. “I want you to care if I die.”

I nodded. What other option was there? I was trapped in his little universe; it’s not like I could ever leave or be with anyone else. Besides, we were still literally connected at the hip.

After what felt like an eternity, he slid out of me. He leaned back on the balls of his feet to inspect me. I immediately closed my legs, though that did little good. He reached forward and grabbed my knees, prying my thighs apart. Warm cum dribbled out of me, coating the naked skin of my upper thighs.

He smirked at his handy work before pushing himself off of the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, turning on the faucet and grabbing a towel from the cabinet.

It was then that something occurred to me. “Miguel, I’m not on birth control.” I said. He nodded, acting as if I had just told him about the weather. He stepped out of the bathroom holding a damp washcloth. “Miguel.”

“What, sweetheart?” I stared at him, feeling my mind begin to race. He climbed onto the bed, moving to where I was laying. He sat down between my thighs and gently began to clean the remains of him off of my skin.

“You didn’t… you didn’t use a condom and I’m not on birth control.” I said. I could feel my heart beginning to race. Why wasn’t this bothering him in the same way?

“You’re my wife.” He said as he wiped my skin.

“Miguel.” I repeated. I wanted him to react.

“What are you wanting me to say?”

“Anything.” I said. I wanted some kind of actual reaction.

“Things are exactly as they need to be. Whatever happens, happens.”

“That’s not an answer.” I said.

“Maybe you need to learn to be happy with what you’re already working with.” He finished cleaning me up and then walked to the bathroom. He had made sure to only clean the skin outside of my body. He didn’t try to remove any of the fluid inside of me, despite how much there was.

He came back to the bed and quickly climbed in. “You should get some sleep.” He said. I stared at him, searching for some idea about what he was thinking. He offered a soft smile in return.

Was he fucking with me?

Did he really love me or was he just using me as a quick screw?

Did he actually want me to be his wife… or was this some fucked up mind game of his?

He leaned back against the pillows and then lifted his hand. He curled a finger toward him, motioning for me to come. “I’m not a dog.” I muttered.

“Then be a good girl and do as I ask.” He reached forward and gently grabbed my body. He slid me closer to him, moving me so that my head lay against his bare chest.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Afraid so.” He said. He placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on my side. He slid his fingers up and down either side of my body, taking in every soft dip and curve. Every so often he would lean down and kiss the top of my head.

I couldn’t help but notice the way that his fingers traced over my lower stomach. He looked wistful as he traced the soft skin. I squirmed, feeling insecure.

“Stop wiggling and get some sleep.”

“Then stop feeling me up.”

“I’m not feeling you up. I’m trying to be nice to you.” He murmured against the top of my head. He pressed another kiss against my hair.

“You’re an ass.” I muttered. I rolled his eyes as he continued to pet my bare skin. His heartbeat played in my ear.

As I began to drift off to sleep, I felt him begin to play with my frizzed curls. He would coil a stand of hair around his finger and then let it go, satisfied with the soft curl that had formed.

It was something that my Miguel liked to do, as well.

Maybe they weren’t all that different.

I heard his strong heartbeat against my ear as I faded away from the room.

Before I fell asleep, Miguel pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. “Please don’t leave me.” He whispered.

I love you...

[kenzlie]

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐔𝐓. - 𝐦.𝐬

summary: 𝗒𝗈𝗎 pleasure 𝖻𝗌𝖿!𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: oral (male receiving), hair pulling, slight slapping, nicknames, small use of y/n, playful teasing, soft!matt? dom!matt?

a/n: bruh i almost just deleted this all..

you and your best friend matt were laying down in his bed watching a movie, while his brothers, nick and chris, were asleep upstairs.

it was around 1:00AM and it was quiet, the only noise was the sound coming from the tv in front of you two and the loud thunderstorm coming from outside.

in the middle of the movie the power goes out “fuck..” matt curses under his breath, barley above a whisper. matt sits up using his forearms to hold him up on the mattress, “what? are you scared of the dark?” you tease “what? no!” matt says sitting up fully now. you reach your hand over to the nightstand, searching for where you last placed your phone.

a few minutes go by and it’s still dark, the only light was the one coming from your phone, matt placed his hand on your bare thigh, the feeling of his cold jewelry sent shivers down your spine, he snatches his hand back quickly “my bad” he said, but something told you that wasn’t just a ‘accident’. you brushed it off and told him it was fine.

it’s been half an hour now and the power was still out, “matt, im thirsty” you say before the light on your phone went out, your phone had died and you couldn’t charge it, “wait let me get my flashlight first” matt told you before going to reach for his phone but remembering it was also dead “shit.” he groans “j-just grab my hand and i’ll lead you” he says putting his hand out as you place your hand in his, good thing he couldn’t see you because you were as red as a tomato, he stands up, still holding your hand, he leads to out of the room and towards the kitchen “whatcha want to drink?” he asks, “just a water” you reply, he hands you the water when all of a sudden there was a loud thunder, out of shock, you grab onto matt, holding him close “and i was the one scared” he teases, you slap his arm playfully before laughing

its’s been exactly an hour since the power went off, you both were extremely bored, “i’m gonna try to get some sleep it’s pretty late, goodnight matt” you say before turning your back towards him “your right, im gonna go to bed too, goodnight” he turns his back towards yours before you both drift off to sleep

it’s 3AM now and something or someone was cuddled up behind you grinding softly, you toss your head back onto matts shoulder whimpering softly “m-matt..” you groan, he whines softly as you can feel him growing harder “n-need you..” matt begs, he didn’t even know what he was doing, he was clearly having a dream about something, “matt.” you say a bit louder before he wakes up, he snaps back to reality and sits up fully “i am..so sorry..” he says, clearly meaning it “it’s okay you didn’t know..” you assure him as you sit up and rub the side of his face “plus, if you needed me that bad, you could’ve just asked pretty boy” you state before reaching your hand down to palm his aching hard cock through his pj pants “f-fuck” he whines clearly desperate “need y-your mouth..” he says as he grabs your wrist

you laid down between his legs, your hands pulling his pants down slowly, “hurry” he says in a pleading tone, you pull his boxers down the sound of his cock hitting his lower stomach made your mouth drool, even with no power you still wanted to make sure he didn’t go to bed hard, your hand reaches out cuffing it before you lean forward slightly, you suck the tip earning whimpers from matt, it wasn’t long before you filled your mouth with his throbbing cock, you bobbed your head not fast but not slow either “just like that!” matt moaned loudly causing you to smirk, that pissed matt off, he grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail as his hips thrusted up into your face “fucking whore!!” he groaned out, forcing you to take him deeper, there were a couple of tears in your eyes as he slammed his cock in and out of your mouth “g-gonna cum..” he whined barley audible, you went faster as he whined and moaned before shooting his load in your mouth, you swallowed it all not leaving a drop left “god i just know you look so pretty right now..” he praised.

a/n: i didn’t feel like finishing the rest, so here 😭

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @chrissslut @xoxo4chrisss @luvb0xoxo @phoenix062 (if i didn’t tag you it was because i couldn’t find your @)

[leaawrites]

Take away the pain

Percy Jackson x daughter of Apollo!reader

Warnings: Blood, open body, might be disturbing, mentions of organs, broken limbs, nightmare, mentions of death, mentions of wounds, scratch marks, tight throat, female reader,

Category: angst, a bit of fluff, comfort

summary: after reader has a nightmare Percy comforts her.

Masterlist

Blood. It was everywhere. Soaking her clothes, staining the fabric in a crimson color. Her body felt weightless, but she felt alive. Her limbs were broken, they were shattered, thorn by the ends. Her chest was open. She couldn’t feel it, but she saw it. It wasn’t neatly opened by a knife. She wasn’t slashed or stabbed by a human creature. It was a hole. She was opened by something more forceful. Part of her organs were laying beside her. Her skin was opened.

The stone beneath her feet was flat, sanded smooth by millions of feet walking over it. But hers couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t make her mark on it. She couldn’t polish it with her own. She destroyed it.

Her body was weightless and she wasn’t alive.

Her eyes opened, sweat was soaking the shirt she slept in. Her hair was a mess. Nothing felt real anymore. But it was real. This was real.

Her hands clutched her chest, fearing to feel it soaked. But all she felt was skin to skin. A body moved on the other side of the bed. Percy pulled the blanket up to his face, probably fighting with his own nightmare.

The air in camp Half-blood felt clearer at night. No one was awake at this hour, the sky was dark, nature was silent. A tree moved from the wind, somewhere something else moved through the night, making sounds through the leaves that covered the ground.

Y/n gently removed the blanket from over her body, hoping she wouldn’t wake Percy in doing so. Her feet were soundless on the wooden floor. Tears were pricking on the edge of her eye. Her eye lids felt heavy from the water forming beneath them.

Being a kid of Apollo was great in her eyes. She couldn’t complain too much. However, one thing that made her want to change her godly parent, were the wounds she’d seen. The blood that has been on her hands while trying to safe someone else. She saw people in pain that she wanted to pull them out of, often that was Percy. If there was a way of taking their pain and put them onto her she would gladly do it. But she couldn’t.

Slow rivers were trailing down her face as she sat down on the stairs, watching the outside in hope of forgetting what she saw. It may wasn’t real, but it felt realistic enough to scare her. Images came flashing back into her mind. And every time they did, she shut her eyes, imagining his face. The way he would smile at her whenever he saw her. Until it was forgotten.

“What did you dream about?” Of course he knew that was the reason she was up. Of course he felt whenever she wasn’t by his side, even when his eyes were closed and his body was on stand-by.

Y/n moved her fingers over her neck, scratching her fingernails against the soft flesh. It hurt, she noticed. The simple motion made her throat feel tight, it felt like strings were laced around it, pulling themselves together by the second. A deep breath in the pain began to gave up on paining her even more.

“I was dead,” she said, her voice shaking while she spoke. Percy sat down beside her, looking confused at the raw explanation. “My chest was ripped open, there was blood everywhere and my body wasn’t my body anymore. Percy, I- I was nothing more but a dead, rotting body. Nothing more than flesh split open, with broken bones.”

Percy knew about the dreams she had before. They were mostly about other people dying, never her. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest, the other covered his face.

"It was just a dream," he assured the girl. It pained him to see her so broken over what others called her gift. He didn't know what he would do if he saw what she saw.

"But can I be sure of that? What if it was all just a vision of what will be in the future?" There were a hundred thoughts on her mind. Most of them bad ones. If this was all a vision, when would it happen? When would whatever ripped her open rip her open?

Kissing her head, he softly spoke, “Nothing will hurt you. I won’t let it.”

“How can you be so sure about that?” She asked, thinking back on the girl who was in the infirmary a few days ago. She was on a quest, abandoned by her other two acquaintances. He told me he would never leave me, she recalled the girl tell her. Percy wasn’t like this, but what if something acquired him to go away? What if someone was the reason why he wasn’t there?

Percy thought back to his mother. He believed she would always be there, until she wasn’t. But he got her back. He believed, that if you truly loved someone, that nothing could make you turn away from them. “Because I love you.”

It was his only reasonable answer to that question. He would protect her as long as he loved her. There was nothing that could make him turn away when she was hurt.

The pain on her neck left completely when Percy planted a kiss on the back of it. He made the pain disappear. The string detached from another, leaving her to breath freely and purely. The pain from her stomach unraveled when she felt his skin against it. He was what she needed when the pain was too much. With Percy everything felt lighter. Every one of her problems solved around him. He was the light she needed on dark day for her sun to shine.

[fae-of-prey]

sugar plums ⏾ ˖ ࣪⊹

❥. ݁₊ inspired by this + me rewatching obx before the new season

❥. ݁₊ word count: 1138

❥. ݁₊ warnings: barry’s little sister reader (kinda naïve + v sheltered); w*rd cameron; brief mentions of murder as per canon events of the show; sorta dubcon kiss but reader doesn’t mind; i think that’s it? feel free to lmk if i missed any

❥. ݁₊ notes: this is v much baby’s first official fic so pls be nice to me:3 i also wanna thank my beautiful beautiful moots for supporting me + beta reading this for me, love y’all to death<333

rafe loves nighttime; it’s peaceful, quiet, it feels like he has the whole world to himself, and most of all you. he fights hard to keep you as blissfully ignorant and unaware as humanly possible, so you can sleep peacefully next to him. rafe can’t sleep tonight though, how could he? he’s haunted by the consequences of his own murderous actions. he lays awake watching you instead just to feel a tinge of pride from how well he’s kept you safe and happy despite everything. rafe always thought you were an angel, his angel, sent straight from the heavens just for him, and you‘ve never looked more heavenly at peace than you do now.

you’ve certainly come a long way from a drug dealer's little trailer park princess sister, busting your ass working at the country club hoping you’ll eventually save up enough to afford college someday, to spending your days living the kook life at tannyhill and being spoiled absolutely rotten. although your big brother was apprehensive at first to your courtship with the kook king himself given the fact that he knows rafe, he eventually came around to the idea; he even lets you live with rafe now for the most part, i mean you get to live in a mansion more comfortably than he’s ever been able to provide, so he had to be a little selfless. barry’s always been a little overprotective and very strict with you to keep you safe from the dangers of his lifestyle, but now so is rafe and he’s happy to be responsible enough to keep you out of trouble.

on the surface it seems like the most dangerous place you could be (well, right next to the dingy trailer of your drug dealer brother), but rafe promised your brother you’d be in good hands, a promise he fully intends to keep even if those hands are now covered in blood. all so you can sleep soundly in his arms dreaming of sugar plums, while rafe’s father pulls into the driveway with a dead body in the trunk.

‘rafe’ even his whisper startles his son and causes you to stir a little bit when he jumps, though he quickly rubs your arm with his thumb soothingly as he turns just slightly to face his father, careful not to wake you in the process ‘what? what is it?’ so eager to help, yet there’s a small part of him deep down dreading leaving the comfort of your presence for what he’s sure can’t be anything good. but ‘i need your help’ is still enough temptation from the devil for him to get out of bed and smear a kiss to your hairline before following his father out to the driveway ready to do anything for daddy’s approval.

sometime in the middle of rafe carrying gavin’s body to the druthers, you stir from your slumber, searching for rafe in the covers only to come up empty, prompting you to open your eyes in hopes you’ll have more luck with your sight, but he’s still nowhere to be found. you creep into the hallway ‘rafe?’ nothing but an echoing sense of unease. not just at rafe’s absence, but the feeling of trepidation in such a large house; you’re still not quite used to it from growing up in a tiny trailer (because despite rafe’s efforts, you’re still not quite a real kook just yet, and other kooks don’t shy away from making it clear behind rafe’s back). that and you can’t help the nagging sense that something is wrong.

you go downstairs for some water while you wait for rafe to come back from accessorizing a murder wherever he is. and as soon as you’ve finished filling your cup you turn around to see your boyfriend walking in suddenly scaring the hell out of you, you didn’t even hear him come in ‘hey baby, what’re you doin up?’ his voice still so raspy ‘i woke up without you, where’d you go?’ you pout, setting the glass down to wrap your arms around him but you still look up at him with those big doe eyes, and he can’t help but feel a familiar pitter patter in his heart at your clinginess; he quite literally just buried a body but less than a minute with you sends him right back to cloud 9 because fuck you’re the light of his goddamn life, and more than that you’re the only light in his goddamn life ‘just uh, had to help my dad with som‘in on the boat, nothin fancy. let’s getcha back to bed, yeah?’ you smile and nod before taking your water with you as he leads you back upstairs.

once you’re all settled in again, so does grim reality when rafe remembers he still has to find the gun in the drain ‘shit, i’m sorry baby, i gotta go take care of somethin else’ ‘what? more boat stuff?’ you’re joking but still he’s never been more grateful for your lack of knowledge on boats before ‘yeah, yeah, uh, i’ll be back soon as i can though okay?’ ‘okay’ you’re pouting again ‘aw c’mon don’t give me fuckin that look’ he starts rummaging around in his closet for some real clothes to wear just to avoid it ‘what look?’ you feign innocence ‘those fuckin bambi eyes you give me whenever you want somethin’ ‘i dunno whatchu mean’ ‘yeah sure you don’t, fuckin smartass’ you giggle at his grumbles, he comes back dressed for the day since it’s morning now and he still has to go find a murder weapon.

‘cmere gimme a kiss fore i go’ ‘promise not to be gone long?’ you look up at him with those big doey eyes once again, you need to make him promise so you can sleep easy knowing he’ll be there when you wake up again, but rafe just sighs ‘ion know how long this is gonna take baby, i said i’ll be back as soon as i can, can’t make any promises okay?’ you’re still pouting at him so he rolls his eyes and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks, and kisses you himself, grumbling about how he has to do everything himself ‘just go back to sleep and i’ll see you later aight? promise’ ‘okay’ you huff in defeat ‘good girl, i love you’ ‘i love you too’ when you kiss him once more he has to refrain from kissing you again or else he’ll never leave the damn house.

eventually he manages to leave you and rides off on his motorcycle while you watch from the window. after he’s gone you flop back into bed sighing, maybe you can at least dream of him to keep you company while he’s out wondering how the hell he’s gonna explain this to your brother.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, likes / comments / reblogs of any support or feedback is the best way to show your appreciation, either way i’m so happy to have you here; i feel like there’s more i can explore with this so i’m down to write more of it if you guys want; but other than that i hope you have a lovely night, muah!

© FAE-OF-PREY 2024

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: oral smut, sexual comments, awko moments, kissing?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9!!

————————

It was the best night of sleep John price has ever had in his life. He wishes deeply his early bird tendencies hadn’t woken him from it. You lay facing opposite of him with his chest pressed snuggly up against your back spooning you. He thought he was dreaming at first, or maybe he died and went to heaven, but your steady breathing and warm skin was much too authentic for that. 

He gently brushes the hair from your neck to kiss at the smooth skin, not in means to wake you, simply cause he just can’t help himself. 

“Goodmorning.”

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” He says while peppering kisses up to your jaw.

“Are you sure?” 

“Not anymore.” You turn over in your spot to face him, he’s a big man, a wall, even as he lays down. He peers down at you as you place a hand on his cheek. 

to your misfortune he’s borderline obsessed. 

“Shower with me?” He asks.

“Sure.” He pulls you with him as he rolls to get off the bed. He’s about to walk into his bathroom to get it started when he realizes you're about to walk out of his room.

“Where are you going?”

“To get my shampoo and conditioner.” 

“I have shampoo and conditioner.” You laugh, confusing him.

“John, I'm a hairstylist, I wouldn’t be caught dead using head and shoulders. I’ll be back.” He watches you leave, still not completely sure what you mean by that.

When you return steam has already filled the roof of the bathroom. You carry your toiletries in both your arms trying not to let anything drop. 

When John takes notice he goes to help you, except you’re not focused on the help he’s offering, you're focused on his bare chest, strong arms and slightly soft belly.

“There will be time for staring doll just not right now.” He says plucking your stuff from your hands. You roll your eyes at him trying to suppress the blush climbing up your neck. 

He undresses fully and steps inside waiting for you to do the same. Suddenly you feel awfully nervous while lifting your shirt. You pause when it gets to your rib cage suddenly feeling self conscious.

“You okay?” He notices your absence and peeks out of the glass door.

“Uh yeah.” You say, willing yourself to pull it over your head. Your pants come off next and you pray soap gets into his eyes so he doesn’t really look at you. 

You step in trying to keep your eyes on his out of politeness even though it feels like your eyes are magnets and the other magnet is in his southern region. He turns the two of you so you're the one mostly under the shower stream. His lustful gaze can’t help but look at the way the water runs down your shoulders and over your breasts.

“You’re shameless.” You say to him with a smile, you couldn’t feel self conscious under a gaze like that.

“Very.” He replies while leaning in for a kiss. He’s awfully warm, the shower at a temperature you like and one he’s not used to, but he couldn’t care less as long as he gets to have you like this. 

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask.

“If you let me wash yours.” You hum in agreement, grabbing your overly expensive bottle of shampoo and pouring some into his hands. You tell him to lather it in his hands before he puts it in your hair and he entertains it even though he bets it does nothing. Lacing his fingers through your hair he watches the way your shoulders relax and your mouth slightly parts. He tries to stop it, really he does, but he can’t help the way his cock begins to harden. He prays you don’t notice, not because he’s insecure, it’s a totally normal human reaction, but because he doesn’t want you to think he can’t enjoy a wholesome moment without getting turned on. 

“Feels good.” You sigh out as he begins to rinse it out. A groan is threatening to spill out and with all his might he is fighting it. 

When you open your eyes you notice the stone cold expression on his face. The way it looks like his eye slightly twitches for a second. And just like his human tendencies have troubled him yours too make you look down to see what may be the biggest dick in your life resting against his lower stomach. 

You look back up quicker than you looked down and it seems he hadn’t noticed. 

“Your turn.” You say scooting closely by each other so now he stands under the water. 

“I’m going to use my shampoo so you can see the difference.” You say as you pour some in your hands. It’s a bit of a reach to get all of his head so he slightly lowers it for you. You run your slightly long fingernails on his head scratching soothingly. He groans at the immensely good and foreign feeling as you make sure to not miss any hair. 

When you’re done he begins to rinse and this is the chance you take to really look at him from head to toe. Do you feel a little perverted, yeah you do.

“Look who has the staring problem now.” If John’s going to do anything he’s going to own it. 

“Who?” You say as you stand on your tip toes for a kiss. He gladly obliges, holding your head at an easier angle for him. You place a hand on his chest, which is normal, nothing that’d raise suspicion. Until it starts slowly dragging down his body. 

He's pulled apart from your swollen lips carefully watching your fingers continue to trail down. When they reach his happy trail you hesitate.

“Go on.” He says softly.

Your fingers softly brush against the soft velvety skin of his awfully gorgeous cock. Your mouth instinctively watering at the sight, and his falling open at the tease.

You grip him in a mostly closed fist giving a gentle squeeze. His hips jolt slightly forward as a pearl of precum appears at the tip. Impatiently you swipe the pad of your thumb over it bringing it to your lips. You sigh softly at the salty taste, spitting into your palm you bring your hand back down to his cock. You give him a firm stroke as your hand slightly shakes. His groans and shut eyes encourage you to continue. You find a steady pace as your hand dedicates itself to providing him pleasure. He tries to control his breathing but it loses its pattern when you quietly moan at the way it twitches in your grip. 

“You're so pretty.” You say quietly.

“Me or my cock?” He sighs out breathlessly 

“Both.” 

“Can I try my mouth?” You ask kindly he chuckles not humorously simply cause he can’t believe this is real life.

“I mean I don’t have too.” You say suddenly which he objects too.

“No, please.” He says watching the way your eyes light up. You waste no time lowering your knees onto the tile floor not caring about how they might hurt later on. 

You grab him eagerly, in your lustful subconscious nature you paint your lips with the tip. He squeezes his eyes closed to try and calm himself down but you’re doing nothing to help his case. 

“I’m losing it up here doll.” He says while leaning a hand against the wall for support. You begin to lick and suckle just to get comfortable, planning a course of action in your head.

Then you take him fully into your mouth bit by bit. His girth causes the dry corners of your mouth to slightly crack. Your eyes close as you try to focus. The sounds of slurping as you try to take him fully is sinful. He watches drool run down your chin and water droplets fall down your whole body almost cinematically. 

“You’re a sight.” He groans out when you pull him from your mouth to simply kiss from base to tip. It’s never been done to him and he would’ve never thought of it, but after that he’s not sure anything else can occupy his mind.

You suck him back in, determined to make him come. You might just want it as much as him. You're putting in your best work, ignoring the ache in your jaw. He has a hand on your cheek stroking the tears that fall from your eyes away. He tries to stop himself from thrusting into your mouth as your hand on his thigh flexes subconsciously. 

He’s so close but is greedily holding it in to keep his cock in your mouth for a bit longer. Your eye lashes bat up at him to watch his slackened features grunt and moan your name. With lidded eyes he watches the hand that once rested on your thigh slide down in between your legs, as you moan into him when he sees the way you slightly part them to give yourself an easier access.

“Mmmf fuck.” You hadn’t expected it quite yet, lost in your pleasure and his. 

He pulls from your mouth as his cum splashes onto your lips, cheek and for his personal pleasure your breasts. When he’s done he pulls you from the floor, sucking your slick fingers into his mouth with a satisfied groan before kissing you long and hard. It’s a mix of you and him as he pulls your tongue into his mouth. His thumbs rub his spend into your cheek like it’s a facial cream as he looks in your big eyes. 

“Shall we finish this elsewhere?” He says with a hand resting on the curve in your waist.

“As much as I’d love to, we can’t, I have to go grocery shopping and have to buy and restock some things at work.” You say with a small smile.

“But you haven’t gotten to finish?” He says with a little discontent.

“I don't need to.” You say giving him another quick kiss.

“That’s crazy.” 

“Make it up to me another time?” 

“Oh, yes” he couldn’t have been quicker with his answer.

“Very well then.” You laugh, grabbing your loofah which he plucks from your hands to pour soap on. He washes you tenderly, kissing every spot of your skin he swipes the sudsy soap over. He can’t help the way his eyes threaten to water at how ethereal you are to him. Call it the post clarity or whatever you want but he wants to put you in his pocket and take you everywhere. 

He doesn’t let you reciprocate the favor but does let you wash his back when the time comes. He leaves the water on for you as he steps out to grab his towel. When he returns with yours you turn it off and wrap yourself in it. 

You dress right then and there in the clothes you brought to his bathroom so you don’t have to suffer the cold. Grabbing your hair dryer to plug it in telling John to watch out for the noise. He dresses quickly and goes to the bathroom standing beside you at the his and hers sink. 

He puts on his beard oil keeping in mind that it’ll need a trim sometime this week. After that he just stands there and watches you do your thing. Admires the fact it’s being done in his bathroom. 

“May I join you?” He says amongst the noise. You click off the hair dryer after asking him “huh” for the second time so he repeats himself a third. 

“Of course.” You smile feeling a little giddy at the fact you’ll have his company. John’s not a man who seems to like to go out much nonetheless shopping. 

“Be ready in twenty?” He asks. 

“Yeah I’m just going to finish drying my hair and put on some makeup.” He nods, walking up to you to kiss your cheek before heading outside for a quick smoke.  

When you’re done he’s sitting on the couch watching whatever is on the news. You call for him from the front door and hear the silence from him clicking off the tv and his footsteps begin to approach you.

“Can I drive?” You ask hopefully.

“No.” 

The weather is beginning to become more livable and sunny. You settle into the seat as he shuts the door and gets in himself. Your hand rests above his on your thigh as the radio hums music. There is something so dreamlike about the feeling he has around you. Like the air is smoother and easier to breathe. 

“Where are we stopping first?” He asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

“My work so I can see what I need, beauty store, then groceries.” 

“Okay just let me know where to go once we get near.” He says giving your leg a gentle squeeze. You nod to him as his focus returns back to the road.

He gets out with you at your job, walks you inside passing up all the private booths of other hairstylists as you lead him into yours. He sits patiently on the chair a client would usually occupy and watches you take product out, put it back and write some stuff down. 

“Okay you ready.”

“Only if you are.” He says as you grab his hand and your purse to walk back out. That’s before you’re stopped by one of your coworkers who’s just walked out of her booth. 

“Hey, who’s this?” She asks, giving you a hug and nodding to John. 

“This is John, my roommate.” You reply softly as his hand on your waist tightens.

“Nice to meet you.” He says kindly.

“Yeah you too, so just roommates then?” You wish you could rewind time and keep her stuck in that room a little longer. Cause truthfully you and John technically still were just roommates.

“Um yeah.” You say trying to end this conversation. She glances down to his hand on your waist and then slowly back up you.

“Okay then, have a good day.” She says walking past the both of you. 

John hadn’t realized till this very moment that he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend or anything official. It’s actually kind of a sickening thought to him that you're not really his. I mean in a perfect world you’d walk around with his name above your head in neon lighting. So he conspires, he’ll drop you off at your little beauty store, leave quickly, buy flowers and cute things, hide them in his car, pick you up and go grocery shopping and cook dinner with you and ask you to officially be his. 

“John you okay?” You laugh as you wait for him to unlock the car. 

“Yeah doll sorry.” He says snapping out of it.

———

You're genuinely a little confused when he tells you he’s got some business to take care of real quick and drives away after you’ve made it inside. Not that you mind, you’ve shopped alone for forever now and it’s kinda therapeutic but it’s unusual. No more than twenty minutes pass by as you continue looking at all the new products from beloved brands that the doorbell jingles as someone walks inside. You don’t look up nor really pay it any mind till strong arms encompass you.

“Where’d you go?” You say looking up at him and the foolish smile on his face.

“Just handling some business.”

“Okay, I’m trying to decide between this conditioner or this one. I love the scent of this one but love the lather on this one.” You say holding up to large bottles showcasing them. 

“Buy both and mix em’.” He says grabbing them from you as he also takes the slightly heavy basket from your hands.

“Yeah right that’s way too self indulgent.” You say while trying to make up your mind. 

“Can I just buy them for you?” You look up at him in disbelief.

“Absolutely not.” You quickly decline his very generous offer.

“Why not?”

“Cause I’m a big girl who has money and should be able to pick a product.”

“I never said you weren’t a big girl with money, I just don’t see the need for you to choose when you can have both.” He retorts back. 

“No I’ll just get this one, fan favorite.” You say hesitantly putting it back and putting one in the basket then looking at your list to see what’s next. He lets you disappear into another aisle before grabbing it back off the shelf and hiding it under the other stuff in your cart. 

You shop for a while longer before heading to the cashier as the lady rings up your items. She makes small talk with you about your day and what not. As she nears the last items John asks you to run to the back of the store for that beard stuff he uses and you quickly do. She finishes up before you make it back and he happily takes his card out and pays for your stuff. 

“I don’t know which one because they all look the same.” you say handing him three different types of the same brand.

“It’s this one.” He says giving it to the cashier along with the extra two. 

“Wait John, where's my stuff?” You ask a little confused.

“In those bags.” He says nonchalantly as he pays for his one item telling the lady to have a good day. 

“I’ll pay you back.” You say as he grabs the bags, heading to the door and pushing it open with his back. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He says ignoring your persistence. 

“I am worried about it.” The bill on your restocks is always over six hundred dollars and you cringe at the idea of him spending that on you. 

“Well don’t.” He shrugs as he hands them to you once you're sat too put in the backseat. There’s no room for disapproval as he shuts your door and heads to his side. 

————-

“Have you been drinking my oat milk?” You ask him as you pass the dairy section in the grocery mart. 

“Oat milk?” 

“Yeah the one in the yellowish carton.” 

“I mean yeah I’ve been drinking it but I just thought it was flavored milk.” 

“No, it's non-dairy, made out of oats.” Although that slightly disgusts him he doesn’t say anything cause he’d enjoyed it up until now. 

You continue to shop around picking up things that you need and different snacks to try. You hate grocery shopping more often than you need to so now’s the time to stock up. 

“Can you grab that for me?” You say point at the top of a shelf for the detergent you use. He does with no complaints as he effortlessly plucks it off the shelf. 

You’re never out of his eyeline, he watches your every move along with everyone around the two of you. Although you don’t stray far from him it wouldn’t even be an option. He tried to trap you between him and the cart that he pushes but unfortunately you escaped quickly. 

“I pay this time, you pay the next.” He says as you load stuff up onto the belt. Although he knows you wouldn’t pay for a thing in his presence. 

“Deal.” It sounds fair to you. Once again he very happily pays and puts the grocery bags into the cart as you stand there and admire him. When you guys are done he tells you to sit inside and hands you his keys as he loads the stuff into the truck.

The drive home is mostly silent. His fingers trail shapes onto your clothed skin as you scroll on your phone looking at other people’s lives through a screen. He peeks over at you from time to time and you smile when you notice. 

When you pull into the driveway you begin to unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your purse. 

“Go on inside I can take our stuff in.” He says, not wanting you to see the stuff he has back there. 

“You know I can help, right?” 

“Yeah but you don’t need to.” He says leaning in for a kiss which you gladly entertain. His mustache scratches your upper lip slightly, it's becoming something you love.

“Ever the gentleman.” You say as he pulls away. 

“For you, always.” If you weren’t experiencing this first hand you’d be giggling and kicking your feet at the thought. 

“Okay.” You say smiling way too hard, something that’s been a recurring situation.

————-

“How do you like it cooked?” You say as you finish seasoning the steaks you guys bought at the store for tonight’s dinner. 

“Medium rare.” He replies, nearly drooling at the sight of you, hair messily put up, apron tied around your waist, as you concentrate all your attention on what’s in front of you. 

“Mkay.” You slightly sway your hips to the tune of the small radio playing music. 

“How’d you learn how to cook?” He asks.

“By spending a lot of time by myself and having a cook book obsession.” He smiles, very you esque.

“I’ll be back in a short minute.” He says as you move onto chopping potatoes. You nod in response as he walks down the hallway. 

As quietly as possible he sneaks back out to his car to grab the flowers, vase and earrings he bought you. And brings it inside walking slowly to his room. You’re too lost in thought to hear a thing. Potatoes in the pot of boiling water and steak in the pan. Your mind was occupied with one not over cooking anything and two not getting splashed by hot butter. 

“John.” You call out. You're thankful he heard you with one yell as he came down the hallway. 

“Yeah doll.” You turn to look at him and tilt your head in confusion when you see a leaf stuck to his half shirt.

“Was just going to ask for help in dumping the water.” You say ignoring it. 

“Of course.” He says walking up to you grabbing the mitts you offer him that were a bit too small for his large hands. He picks up the heavy pot with ease as he drains it. 

“Were you outside or something?” You say noticing another leaf on his pants. 

“No, why?” He asks as he sets the pot back on the burner.

“You have leaves on you.” 

“Oh not to worry, must've gotten there when I brought the groceries inside earlier.” 

After that you pay it no mind as he returns back to whatever he’s doing. You finish cooking and set the table for you two. You plate the food and call for him again. He panicked when he heard you, although he’s going to wait till after dinner. What if you say no? What if you're not ready for a relationship, let alone with him.

“John.” You yell again, he hears your footsteps coming towards him and quickly leaves his bedroom.

“Sorry, I was just picking up.” You know for a fact it wasn’t messy when you guys left. Regardless he follows you back down the hallway and into the kitchen. You two sit in your now assigned seats.

“Looks great, Thankyou doll.” He says caressing your chin affectionately.

“You're welcome.” You watch him take his first bite waiting before you take yours, gauging his reaction then getting distracted by how wide his legs spread out, so much so that they peek out from under the table. 

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll have to enjoy dessert first.” You look away quickly, beginning to eat your own food. The first 5 minutes is silence that’s filled with chews and clinking. 

“I think I’ll reopen bookings next month.” You say randomly as the reoccurring thought occupies your mind. You took some time off work to get some rest and have been enjoying it too much.

“That’s interesting, what for?” You laugh softly before looking up at him. 

“Because living isn’t free?” It could be for you, he thinks. 

“I could always pick up more bills.” He doesn’t want to push the topic knowing you don’t like to talk about it.

“Or I could just get back to work.” That’s your way of ending the conversation, he ends up finishing way before you do and sits back with a satisfied sigh chatting about some kind of camera he wants to put outside.

“I’m full.” You say pushing your plate away. You’re about to stand up and collect the plates before he stops you.

“Allow me.” He says grabbing them and setting them inside the sink, he washes them quickly and puts them in the drying rack before turning to do the pans you used. 

He’s deep in thought about how he’s going to ask you but  snaps out of it when he feels two arms wrap around his waist and slide under his shirt, then your head on his mid back. It’s so subtle yet so affectionate and foreign to Jonathan Price that he just wants to melt.

“You smell good.” You whisper as you stick your nose deeper into his shirt.

“Thank you?” He laughs.

“I’m sleepy.” You say as he reaches for the kitchen towel to dry his hands.

“Well before we head to bed I’ve got something for you.” Your head perks up curiously. He turns around and smiles softly at your drowsy eyes yet wide smile.

“What?” 

“Well follow me and I’ll show you.” He’s wringing his hands as you both walk toward his room.

“Okay, close your eyes.” He says and you do.

You're both in his room now, you hear him shuffling things around or something of the sort as you stand there patiently.

“Okay, open them.” Once your eyes adjust you see him standing there with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a little box. 

“Will you be my partner?” You tilt your head at the question until you realize he’s asking you to be his girlfriend.

“Your girlfriend?” 

“Doll, I'm too old for that.” 

“Yes then I’ll be your partner.” You laugh, grabbing the flowers from him. 

“Open this.” He says handing you the small box and taking the bouquet of flowers to set them down on his dresser. Nervously you flip the top open as your eyes go wide. 

“John, these are beautiful.” You say looking at the pair of small paint brushes with a diamond as the bristles.

“Pretty things for a pretty lady.” He says reaching to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

“This is too much.” You whisper truly admiring them, for a man who doesn’t believe in fate finding those in the small jeweler right next to the flower shop is the closest he’s come to it after meeting you. 

“Nothing is too much when it comes to you, doll.” You close the box, setting it down. You look at him for a couple of seconds just admiring the man that’s been nothing but a blessing to you. 

“What?” 

“Kiss me.” It’s nothing sexual, it’s purely out of affection. The way you feel light as a feather beneath his touch, as he feels real against yours. He’s so enamored in everything you, loves the way you breathe, smell, move, laugh he’s obsessed with everything. 

You feel like the heavens have sent him to you. He’s safe, warm and everything you’ve ever wanted. He cares for you truly. He holds you tenderly and gives you all the attention you crave, and you don’t even have to ask for it. 

“Can we sleep in my room tonight?” You say when he pulls away. 

“Yeah, but why?” 

“I feel like this is too boyish for me, I need to see my plants and sleep in my matching sheets with my thousands of pillows.” He laughs as you put your vase of flowers in his hands and lead him towards your room.

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

Thankyou for reading, truly you guys are the greatest motivation to contune writing known to man - All my love

comments and reposts are deeply appreciated<3

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[trendywaifus]

who would let the world burn for you? cw: yandere themes, mentions of blood and dead bodies. angst. possible oocness. gn! reader.

I LET THE WORLD BURN, I LET THE WORLD BURN FOR YOU, THIS IS HOW IT ALWAYS HAS TO END.

FIREFLY/SAM would gladly let the world burn if it guarantees your safety. you’re like an ever-lasting flame they can physically cradle in their hands; you give them hope, a purpose. what makes you think they’ll purposely snuff you out for a world—the universe who didn’t dare to show not an ounce of mercy to them?

sam gently holds you in their arms, green wings resembling flames behind their back. behind them is a vast sea of angry fire—burning buildings and corpses sam doesn’t bother to look back to as they walks away from the ruined civilization. “ sam. .” you weakly whisper, the mecha looks down. if it could frown as it scans the cuts and nasty bruises littered all over your body, they would.

“ i came here for you. “ sam says, their voice soft and full of worry reserved only for you, “ it wasn’t apart of the script but i couldn’t bear to stand by and let you do everything by yourself. i feared that you could’ve. .” a familiar feminine voice blends in with sam’s low robotic one as they trailed off.

they fall silent when your shaky hand reaches out to touch sam’s “ face “, soft orange flames sizzles out from their metal slits.

I LET THE WORLD BURN, JUST TO HEAR YOU CALLING OUT MY NAME, WATCHING IT ALL GO DOWN IN FLAMES

KAFKA would let the world burn to show you what she’s willing to do for you. she wants to see the look on your face when everything is in flames because of her.

“ k-kafka. .” you mutter, backing away in fear as she saunters closer to you, stepping over dead bodies with no regard. her velvet lips stretches into a grin, teeth baring as orange flames are reflected in her eyes, making her look menacing. “ there’s no need to look so fearful, ” she drawls, stretching her arms wide as she draws nearer and nearer. “ you know i wouldn’t dream of laying a finger on my precious doll. “

you backed up against a cracked brick wall, legs trembling as she finally in arms length. “ y-y-you, wh-wh—“ kafka chuckles, placing a gloved hand on your cheek, her pinkish purple hues stares into your own. “ use your words, darling. i’m listening. “

“ wh-why? “ you choked out, (e/c) eyes filled with tears. kafka hums, placing the other hand on your cheek, now cradling your face. “ why? it’s simple, really. you may think the reason why i’m doing this is to make you suffer or something cliche straight out of a boring hero vs villain flim. hmm, it’s none of that. “

she leans closer to your face until her lips brush against yours. “ it’s an act of love. all i did was make it dramatic, isn’t it ironic? “

I SHOULD’NT HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE, LOOK AT WHAT IT MADE ME BECOME

RUAN MEI never could understand the concept of love due to her trauma and just couldn’t emotionally grasp it. but you—you made the loose ends stretch and connect and she finally gets to have a taste of what it means to love. but soon after, things began to spiral out of control—specifically her emotions. it’s now always you, you, you on her mind. it’s frustrating because it’s making her think irrational, illogical things. so, will she let the world burn for you? yes—undoubtedly so.

ruan mei winds her slender arms around your waist, guiding you into her midst. her cool breath fans against your skin as she outlines your cheekbone with her lips. and she doesn’t stop there—no, she’s moving down to the corner of your lips, jawline, neck, and then right at a certain spot where she feels your pulse. it’s slow and steady. a hand trails up your arm and eventually three fingers press against the opposite side of your neck. a blue light and a warm tingle follows suit.

“ ruan mei, you don’t have to do all of that. i’m alive. “ you sighed. ruan mei moves back a bit to peer into your eyes, she touches your cheek. “ i’m aware. “ she says softly, contrary to the glint in her eyes, a emotion that you can’t recognize—a emotion so passionate yet ominous that it sends a chill down your spine.

“ and I’ll keep it that way. “

I LET YOU GET TOO CLOSE, JUST TO WAKE UP ALONE

AND I KNOW YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN, YOU’RE SCARED TO BELIEVE THAT I’M THE ONE

BUT I CAN’T LET YOU GO

ACHERON allowed herself to get swallowed up by the waves of love—she allowed it to rush through the cracks of her heart and fill up the emptiness within. you’ve imprinted on her soul and now she’s hopelessly devoted to you. if the world must burn for you to be by her side, so be it. the world means nothing if you’re not in it.

her white tresses flows into the wind as she calmly walks towards you. her ruby eyes settled only on you as the once blue sky is ripped apart with one clean red slash and ruins scattered everywhere behind her. “ acheron. .what have you done? “ you asked in disbelief, holding onto your shattered blade. “ what needed to be done.” acheron merely replies, snatching your forearm and pulled you into her possessive embrace.

“ you didn’t need to do this and you know it! why did you fight me to stop me?! i could of saved millions of lives if it meant giving up my own. a whole civilization is gone now! people—ch-children! “ you sobbed, pushing your palms against her shoulders to escape her hold. acheron holds you tighter into her strong body and buried her nose into the side of your neck. it’s wrong, so, so wrong for her to do something so reckless—so selfish to discard innocent life for the safety of your own. but she’s gone through enough loss and suffering and the hole in her heart is full of you—her everything. if you died, she fears that she would of. .

“ forgive me, forgive me, “ acheron mutters into your skin like a prayer, “ i’m truly a coward but i’d gladly continue to be so if i can hold you in my arms like this. “

FEAR IN THEIR EYES, ASH RAINING FROM THE BLOOD ORANGE SKY, I LET EVERYONE KNOW THAT YOU’RE MINE

jingliu is letting everything burn. you’re her beloved— she would do anything for you. her blade will cut through anything and everything, even the moon itself to prove that to you.

her glowing, red feral eyes matched the color of the sky as corpses of the cloud knights laid around her like a ritual circle. jingliu looks at you and smiles lovingly in contrast to the horrific act she’s done. “ darling, come here. “ she softly commands, lifting her hand (which is stained with the blood of many!) out to you, waiting for you to take it and join her. you shake your head with terror, your body trembling. “ n-no, jingliu. th-this is madness! “

jingliu tilts her head to the side, her expression falls expressionless. then, she takes a step towards you, her hand falling limp to her side. “ this is madness you say? how laughable, my dear, “ she lets out a breathy laugh and casts you a chilling smile. “ this is hardly anything. once i annihilate the abundance in your name, only then you can speak to me about madness.”

honorable mention

I’D LET THE WORD BURN, I’D LET THE WORLD BURN FOR YOU

STELLE intentionally and unintentionally would let the world burn for you without a doubt. she’d choose you over the world, not caring about how bad it’ll make her seem. all she’s really thinking about is you and not the full consequences of her choice. and because of the astral express, things will get complicated. ultimately, you’ll be the one to give yourself up if the situation really requires you to step up. she’ll prob need to be held back.

“ we don’t have much time, i’ll go. i’ve dropped it anyways. “ you volunteered with a heavy heart, looking back at the city covered in flames. dan heng and march quickly opens their mouth to speak but stelle beats them to it, “ no, you’re not! i-if you’re going, then i’ll go with you! “ she shouts, taking your hand into hers, “ it’s just an artifact—“

“ an artifact that is needed to save this planet and it’s not like dan heng can use his powers either because he’s just going to flood everything and march you already exhausted yourself which means i have to—“

march chimes in, “ h-hold on a minute, even i think it’s a bad idea to go back in by yourself!everything is covered with smoke and ash, there’s no way you can find it on the ground somewhere and you can’t see anything! we need to call welt and himeko—“

“ okay, you call them and i’ll go find it. i know it’s a terrible plan but we’re out of options guys. stelle. please, let go of my hand and stay with dan heng and march. “

stelle stubbornly refuses, “ no. i said i’ll go with you so i am. if you think you’re going to go by yourself then you’re absolutely silly. if it was my choice, i wouldn’t let you go at all. “

your brows furrow with frustration, “ no, you’re being silly, stelle. look—we don’t have time to argue! you’re not going with me! “ without thinking, you jabbed your fist hard into her stomach, causing her to gasp and kneel over in pain. she still holds onto your hand but you hastily break free from her weakened grip. “ i have to go! dan heng! hold stelle back if she tries to follow me! give me 5 minutes tops, i’ll come back! promise! “ you dash towards the burning city, covering your nose in search of finding the lost artifact.

“ no! “ she screams horsely as she watches your figure run further and further away and eventually disappear into the sea of smoke. although in pain, stelle attempts to get back up and run after you. dan heng swiftly restrain her. “ l-let me go, dan heng! can’t you see what’s they’re doing?! it should of been me! no, not even me—the world should just burn! “ she screams at the top of her lungs, tears rolling down her cheeks.

[trulyumai]

care for me?

pairing: Messmer the Impaler / Wife! Reader

synopsis: exhausted, you try to stay up for the arrival of your husband. only he doesn’t come back the same man.

wk: 1.1k

warnings: mention of death, violence. mostly fluff

A/N: EJ come, water! (no seriously enjoy Messmer lovers) this was a request, thank you for the suggestion anonymous!

Enjoy!

It was so cold.

Dreary winds busted across the little home, invading the shack with freezing temperatures that nipped at one’s bones.

The girl of said residence could not battle such a feat alone; so she lay bundled up in many cottons and wools that cascaded her form just in front of the fire pit.

With her teeth clanking together, she drew in a particular large blanket that seemed to swallow her whole being.

She was trying— attempting, to stay away for her husbands arrival.

“He— he will be here soon,” giving herself words of comfort, little fingers smoothed over the skin of her arm.

Back and forth they went, seeking any form of warmth they could gather.

But, she was getting tired. It had been hours since his departure.

So, with a defeated huff, her lashes fluttered.

Eyes now shut, her form slumped against the wooden boards.

Maybe she could greet her doting husband upon the fields of dreams

Everything went wrong.

His mother… his own mother…

A cry, weak and low left Messmers lips as he shuddered in pain—agony.

Instead of telling the citizens, the people what had been done of the shadow lands of between, his mother lied.

She blamed the knight of flames for his part in the destruction. Blamed him for the plans, the deaths, the innocent lives gone—

“O, Mother!” Just outside the home, Messmer sat. His head tilted towards the ground in shame as his long nails twisted and pulled at his cheeks.

Blood seeped down almost instantly, yet he couldn’t find the energy to care.

Tears streamed down his face in waves, meeting the bloody patches along the way.

His nails tore and scratched at any skin that came in contact, only making his wounds worse.

“Does thou… not perceive mine own consciousness?” A yellowed Iris glanced forth upon the house.

His home.

Only now realizing he made it back, a shudder ran through him.

“Wife,” he whimpered. “Please… forgive me.”

Only the sound of wind greeted his ears, as his now bloody and weakened form pushed against the stone. Slowly making his way to the wooden door merely a foot away.

The flowers lay dormant, the fields around him lay bare and dead. Much like the lands he left behind his wake.

With bodies, upon bodies—

“Augh! No more!” With a slam, the door receded against his strength, banging out against the wall behind.

The ball of blankets jumped up in surprise, a head peeked out from the warm egg shaped cocoon the girl placed herself in.

Messmers eyes softened upon such a sight, he couldn’t help but let out a little smile seeing the girls attempt to warm herself.

“little wife,” he called. Already on his way to the girl sitting about the floor.

“husband!” she cried, reaching out her hands to signal for the man’s embrace.

He gladly accepted, sweeping her into his arms and cradling her head soothingly.

“I’ve missed you,” little sweet kisses dotted across his neck, to his jaw and up the face.

“What— what happened?” Her lips met with a red and open wound, to which the flame winced at.

He had forgotten about such a display.

“It’s nothing, dear wife,” big palms rubbed along her sides. “an accident, nothing more.”

Fear began to corrode his mind, it crumbled and tore at the seams of sanity.

People will come for him.

For his betrayal, his slaughter.

His wife— gods what has he done?

A hand pulled him back, it was soft and careful as it cradled the man’s left cheek.

“It’s okay,”

She didn’t know what was wrong, only that something was amiss.

For the man was troubled, that much was clear.

“I… listen closely, my heart.” Setting her upon the ground he looked down at her form, so much smaller than his own.

His back had to bend uncomfortably to meet her gaze but he ignored such pain.

Big palms surrounded her face, angling her eyes to meet with his.

“We need to go, does thou need anything before our leave?”

“Leave?” She shrieked. “This is our home… why would we leave so—“

“Please, please wife understand me so. I cannot dote on such a matter yet but please.” A desperate yellowed eye looked upon both of hers

“I will protect thee. With mine own blade, with mine own body. But we need to leave, most ardently”

Confused and somewhat scared, the girl could do nothing but nod her head. Even when he placed a mirage of kisses upon her, she did nothing but look upon the man.

Almost as if to study him— understand him.

Soon, she was lightly pushed into the direction of their room.

“Grab what thy can carry and need.” Messmer had said.

So she did.

She grabbed her favorite blanket, the one that had been with her since birth.

She grabbed her jewelry box that lay full of gifts from the knight.

And finally, she grabbed the last vials of homemade oils. Lavender scented, which always seemed to calm her husband down whenever it graced her soft skin.

Seeing his wife’s hands full, Messmer acted. Gently picking her up, the objects shifted about as a bridal style posture was given upon her.

Head now bumping with his armor with every movement, she decided to speak.

“Are you alright, husband?”

This was an opening.

A pristine opportunity to tell her of his forthcomings.

Of his tidings with his mother.

Of the burning lands.

Even of the soon to be castle that will be there home for god knows how long.

Messmer only looked down, peacefully admiring his wife so.

“Everything will be fine, my wife. Thou can sleep while the travel begins.”

He was a coward. Biting down upon his cheeks blood ran across his tongue, to the back of his throat.

Past all the lies and short comings, two thing stay true; he adored his wife

and he would do anything to protect her.

[hazbinwhoree]

So I though I had after reading "failed 3 for 3" is if Adam ever had a nightmare about reader leaving him(are nightmares even possible in heaven?idk).

So basically Adam has a nightmare about us leaving him for Lucifer just like his 2 ex-wifes did. He wakes up and panick (bonus poits if we aren't in bed when he wakes up cuz we needed a drik, go to the bathroom, or something and Adams like "Holy shit it actually happened").

So naturaly like a good wife we are, we need to comfort our little problematic person.

AND I KNOW WHY ALL THE ADAM HEADCANON ARE LIKE "oh he won't let you be a big spoon, no chance" BUT I JUST NEED TO HAVE HIM LAY ON MY CHAEST WHILE I STROKE HIS HAIR, KISS HIS FOURHEAD AND WHISPER SWEET NOTHINGS INTO HIS EAR. ITS A PAIN </333333333

Sorry for any gramer or spelling errors English is not my first lenguage.

I love you'r writing and have a good day <3

Failed 3 For 3

Part 2/2

A/N: Short but sweet.

Adam tossed and turned. His dream was particularly unpleasant. It was replaying the events of today except in this dream, (Name) fell for Lucifer’s flirting, and he lost her. Adam watched on helplessly as (Name) and Lucifer leaned in to kiss… then woke up with a gasp.

He immediately reached for (Name), only to find her side of the bed empty. His heart dropped. What if that wasn’t a dream? “(Name)?” he calls out weakly.

She doesn’t answer, but he hears the toilet flush in their connected bathroom. Then running water, then the door opens and (Name) steps back into the room. “Adam?”

Adam clambered out of bed and picked (Name) up, squeezing her like he might lose her. He wrapped his wings around them like some sort of shield. (Name) pressed a long kiss to his cheek, running a hand through his messy hair. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Adam mumbled. “Well this sure isn’t nothing,” (Name) said. Adam set her down, and she took his hand and led him back to their bed. She sat, patting the spot next to her.

Adam sat down. “It was just a bad dream,” he said nonchalantly. “About today?” (Name) asked gently. Adam rolled his eyes but nodded. “Aww, baby,” (Name) teased. “I fuckin’ know, okay?” Adam snapped.

(Name) crawled into the bed and laid down on her back, opening her arms. “Come here, big guy.”

Adam crawled over to her and laid down on top of her, his head resting on her chest. (Name) wrapped her arms around him, and Adam calmed, listening to her steady heartbeat. (Name) began to run her fingers through his hair with one hand, and Adam sighed contently.

He loved when she did that.

She kissed the top of his head.

“It was just a silly dream,” she whispered. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.” Adam hummed.

(Name) continued to whisper reassurance and sweet nothings, lightly scratching his scalp, and it didn’t take long before Adam’s weight became dead with sleep on top of her.

(Name) smiled.

Her big baby.