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netherfeildren · 23 days

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How to Endure Ardor:

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; I'm saying this, but the setting is sort of ambiguous anyways, Stream of consciousness, Character Study, Alternating POVs; PIV sex; The troubles and toils of breaking up and then making up with a fucked up old man; Uncaring Joel; Mentions of painful sex; Toxic relationships or situationships or whatever you want to call it; I think I'm addicted to the idea of a Joel who'll never love you and I should probably see a doctor about it

A/N: she remembers how to write, who'd of thought!

Word Count: 1.3K

Read on AO3

This is a lesson:

“Tell me again,” she says, and it’s a begging.

A begging like what? Something that carries shame and smallness in the shape of it. Stay a little longer. It humiliates him for the wretchedness it pulls from him. Joel, please. Seeping blood the color of her supplication. Please, she says, please. And who else says please to him anymore? Who asks him for anything anymore but her? The only ones who ever had are long past and gone, and he can’t even barely remember they were ever really there to ask anything of him to begin with—can’t remember what it feels like to owe someone something and want to give it to them in a way that will actually make him.

Tell me what again? That I want you? That I’ll stay? That I love you? I’ll come back, he says instead, the only thing he can promise and keep. And he wonders if it humiliates her too, the way he lies, the way he runs, the way he swears, the way he always comes back and comes back but never returns with the things she needs. A humiliation just like it is a begging.

The thing they have: it’s strange, fickle, honest in its lies, very, very ugly. An ugliness that is shocking in a world gone to rot already. The sky doesn’t shine anymore and they bask in it.

But also, and, the thing they have: it’s physical, saving.

This is obvious too, even if only to them.

He slides inside and you’re what? Hot and wet and slick, and—yes, a thing like a dream, but still only a thing. Something to have, something close to desire, but not quite, more like biological want. Woman turned possession. In his mind this is an excuse, a reason, a begetting. Like, what—like what? Like when you want a thing very badly but it is very bad for you, and you need to make up any excuse to have it, lie and lie and lie—to your mother, your best friend, the mirror—a begetting like that. Easy to understand only if you’ve been there.

It started simple, it started like nothing, it started like the first time you meet someone and you know they’ll matter, you know they’ll mean something. So it started like what? Like a lie.

Shifts at the QZ, long and toiling and reminders of the sort of life that died in an outbreak of monsters, only if for how unlike that past it was. Humans or fungus or—

—men who hurt—you, men who refuse your love, Joel Miller.

The crutch of your age, of you being weaker or smaller or in need, him being easily felled, wooed, easily conquered by something young and given without a try because there was never the opportunity for trying before.

Now, it is like this: you take my cock and you take my come and you take my nothing, and I give so little and yet you still find a way to take and take and take, leech of a girl, dream of a girl, hungry. And with the excuse that it’s only in a way you contrive for your own self. But in the end, what does that make you? What do I make you into?

These are the things he asks himself.

Perhaps she goes away for a time, tries the route of escape, of variety. But when she inevitably comes back because addiction is riddled always in the same sorts of ways: did you try different bodies? Did you try different flavors and sounds? Did you look for me in all of them?

The answer is usually yes.

At reunion’s turn: he rolls her over to face her, Joel, damp and panting and trying to be something—perhaps better, more honest—after a season of variety and honest attempts and shut eyes. He’s so hard for her, always is.

Again: he slides inside and you’re what? His, undeniably. Not yours. Something to want but not desire because it’s too romantic a notion, and yes, there’s a difference even if he can’t put into words what that difference specifically is. Body and heart, perhaps, definitions that differ between disparate anatomical parts or levels of deniability.

Nothing either of you have ever been able to put into words when lust and love aren’t things you can even say out loud for the shame of them, even if they exist within said same anatomy.

You come together, the season passed, the separation passed but still kept at hand for the next time the closeness becomes too much.

“Tell me again,” she says, and this time he remembers what she’s asking for.

“I fucking missed you, baby. Missed this pussy.” Because he can’t say it’s her heart he missed. Because Joel Miller does not have honesty in his arsenal.

He spreads you wide, knee to shoulder so it hurts and pulls, so it’ll be sore and reminding tomorrow. The slap of his pelvis against the back of your thighs is obscene, wet and lewd, a string of girl cum keeping you connected, such togetherness, curve of your ass to the root of his cock—the two of you are together again.

You know what I thought, when I tried to go away, you say. He doesn’t want to know, but he doesn't tell you so either, only slides in again, the mouth of your womb right there, threatening. I’m never going to feel like this again, and I hate how certainly I know that. He wonders if the unsaid part is that he’s the recipient of that feeling, the hate.

He wonders if the pinch inside him is hurt. He wonders if the throb is love.

All he says because he can’t say the rest is, I missed you, I missed you, and if he could look himself in the mirror—something that’s twenty years past lost—he’d ask: are you alright? Just tell me you’re okay. And it sounds in your own voice and with your own care and the feel of your own warmth. Is there anything I can do?

Other times, he sees himself through your own eyes, and then he knows for certain that the throb is love

So he makes up for lost time, hard—and if it was a thing he knew how to be— loving. Mouth to cunt first, primed and soft and begging, making you come again and then another once more, then inside of you. Slow, splitting you open, red cunt like a wound, balls slapping wet, pulling out to watch the gape of the space he’s carved for himself. His cock is so hard and missing you something desperate. And he’s reminded of what it is to really miss something in a way he hadn’t been in twenty years of apocalypse, he’s forced to realized that it’s been so long since he’d had something to love that he’d not realized the feeling of missing that long past someone had gone away, only faint memory remained.

Violent, is what this makes him after that realization—thrusts turning hard and punishing. How dare you give yourself to me? How dare you then take yourself away? You come around him again, the gift of your orgasm. How dare you not be able to accept the little I’m able to give when I’m trying so desperately fucking hard to give you even just this?

He fucks you mean, he fucks you in the way of a man who doesnt know how to say the things he needs to say, in a way that’s confusing, that could make a less discerning woman feel only the hurt.

But then again, you know him.

Fucks you in a way that is a little bit like love.

And so, amidst all of it, there is an honesty amongst the lies. A truth unspoken that they both know—I’ll come back because I need you, because you’re the only one who can give me the things I'm not strong enough to ask for out loud.

You’re not sure which of the two of you is the one saying it.

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#vic fic #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader

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ghost-1-y · 6 months

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Covenant

True Form!Sukuna x AFAB!Sorcerer!Reader

Content Warnings: (too many to count) MDNI, dark content, explicit sexual content, dubcon, sadomasochism, master/slave dynamics, reader binds herself to him as his slave in exchange for her life, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, double penetration (Sukuna has two cocks), oral sex (m! and f! receiving), throat fucking, lots of manhandling, HEAVY degradation (Sukuna is MEAN), humiliation, spanking as punishment, Sukuna does not care about reader’s pleasure, multiple creampies, lots of hair pulling, dacryphilia, reader does experience pain during this encounter (and Sukuna doesn’t care); mentions of reader going through sexual training, mentions of reader becoming a concubine, please read with caution, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Summary: Having been one of the sorcerers of the Heian Era to attempt to eradicate the King of Curses from the face of the earth, you were the least bit surprised to find yourself awaiting death within Sukuna’s domain. What you didn’t expect was that the Disgraced One had other plans awaiting you, to which you selfishly conceded if it meant you were allowed to live yet another day.

Word Count: ~3k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: so…I’m not a fan of Sukuna (*cough* manga *cough*) so I made him pretty fucking mean in this (because lets be real, he would not treat you nicely, you’re lucky if he doesn’t k!ll you) HOWEVER True Form!Sukuna got me feeling some type of way (unfortunately I’m a little bit delulu and tend to think with my pussy). So please heed the content warnings in this, and please read with caution.

Paralysis.

That’s what it felt like, an immovable body in the presence of someone’s indomitable will. It was a fearsome thing to behold – the vast difference in abilities between you and your opponent. Your mind, however, raced – memories of the life you lived beginning to dwindle in awe of the destruction that would wreck your body in the next coming moments, until slowly it became nothing but a darkness which was inescapable, with only thoughts of blood splatter and broken bones crushed under the weight of your own foolishness.

“Domain Expansion—” the monster before you uttered, a smirk on his face so vile that your muscles rebelled and brought you down to your knees, nerves igniting across your body in waves as you imagined the pain of death tearing you apart. He hadn’t even touched you yet, and you already felt the effects of your life being strewn into mere threads as he stood across from you.

“—Malevolent Shrine.”

A simple pattern of hand movements, really, yet its raw power was so extreme that it brought about what was considered to be the pinnacle of jujutsu. If your mind weren’t already broken from fear, you may have marveled at the intricacies of the domain. A Buddhist shrine, which was surrounded by animal skulls and, at the center, an open maw of teeth and tongue which was erected behind the Disgraced One. A glance around yourself, and you’d realize that your surroundings had barely changed – other than the obvious death which awaited you as your body knelt in defeat, but you did wonder if the blood which soaked the floor beneath the King of Curses was a bath of yours which had yet to be spilled.

You closed your eyes, awaiting a death so horrific that you hoped it would end quickly. Yet, as you waited, instead of feeling your body torn apart, you heard the footsteps of the monster walking towards you.

“You humans are pathetic,” it laughed, “thinking you stood even the slightest chance of defeating someone as powerful as I.”

You were shaking, unable to look up at him as he got close enough to touch you.

“However, an insect such as yourself seems to have some intelligence, you at least know not to look at me whilst I grace your presence.” The monster grabbed your hair, balling it up in his fist and forcing your head up. “Maybe you have some potential,” he mused, before throwing you back to the ground, causing you to fall on your side.

“Are– are you gonna kill me?” you asked stupidly, but the fear consuming your soul made you want this to be over with, to seek the sweet release that death would bring compared to being in such a malicious presence.

Sukuna chuckled, “good job, insect,” he mocked, “of course I will, I was just…interested in something is all.”

Your ears perked up, and a semblance of logic returned to you – your survival instincts kicking in after the sheer panic of being faced with death started to subside. You kept your head low, not wanting to upset him and lower your chances of escape – although really, you deemed it pretty much impossible in your current circumstances.

“Please, I’ll– I’ll do anything, I– I promise! If– if you just let me live, please–” you exclaimed, your words sounding like a broken record as you spoke. He threw his head back, a maniacal laugh escaping his throat.

“I love when you humans beg. It’s so sweet seeing your dignity, your morals, everything slowly dissipate as you plead for your lives, all replaced by pure cowardice.”

“Please–”

He suddenly appeared before you, eyes boring into your soul, causing you to flinch while averting his gaze – “and what makes you think I should grant such a wish?”

His voice was cold, but, as he gazed at you more, eyes raking over your body, his demeanor shifted.

“You’re disgraceful,” he started, “perhaps I could put some use to that.”

You opened your eyes, but didn’t dare look up. Your neck started to ache from the angle you forced it into. Sukuna started walking back to where the shrine had been erected, before he turned and sat upon the maw that took up the inside of it. He performed a “come hither” motion with two of his fingers, and spoke.

“Stand up, insect, and come to me,” he smirked.

You did exactly as you were told, eyes trained on the ground as you stood up and stepped forward, only stopping by the time you reached the steps of the shrine.

“Kneel.”

You fell to your knees, and he grinned.

“I was right. You are disgraceful. You’d do anything to survive, like a goddamn cockroach,” he spat. Your face flushed in shame as you listened to his words, your hands shaking as you bowed before him.

“But, you amuse me,” he considered, “so, if you’ll do anything like you said, then you will become my slave. You’ll do everything for me– you’ll cook my food, feed me, clothe me, bathe me,” he continued, before an even more malicious thought came to his head, “and you’ll let me use you however I want.”

Your muscles tensed, but you nodded, breath shaky as you uttered an “okay”. Sukuna stood up and walked towards you.

“Then we will initiate a binding vow, in exchange for me not being allowed to kill you, you will become my slave and do everything aforementioned – all for my sake,” Sukuna proposed, “do you understand this set of conditions?”

You nodded, and accepted the conditions. Pitiful, you thought, but if it meant he couldn’t kill you, then it was worth it.

Right?

“Then gaze upon your Master, pet,” he commanded.

You raised your head to look at him, and, now that your anxiety had settled slightly with the threat of death no longer looming over you, you had a chance to fully take in his form.

He was tall, and not in the sense of how humans are tall – fully standing, you imagined he reached just over three meters, and his build filled in his height extremely well, with his broad shoulders and toned chest exposed as the top of his kimono fell around his waist. Yet, what caught your attention was his arms – four of them which all boasted muscle and markings that matched the rest of him, with veiny hands and nails sharpened like claws.

He smirked as you looked at him, chuckling as your eyes focused on his torso, where a second mouth lay, the tongue of which stuck out in full view. You averted your eyes, blushing at the images that came to your head upon seeing such an anomaly.

“Oh? Does this slave already look fondly upon its Master? Have you no shame left at all?” he mocked, before completely discarding his kimono and fundoshi, completely exposing himself in front of you, before taking a step forward.

“I told you to gaze upon me, slave. Do as you’re told.” His voice was firm, and, not wishing to disobey him, you looked upon him once more, only for your jaw to drop at his…endowment.

He had two cocks.

One was above the other, and both were huge and fully erect. You’d guess that they spanned a length of nearly ten inches each, and were leaking copious amounts of precum from each tip.

“Prove your eagerness to serve me, pet,” he commanded, walking towards you so his cocks were hovering above your face. You stood up, having to be at full height to reach his hips, and hesitantly wrapped your hand around his lower cock, before realizing that you couldn’t wrap a single hand around him and have your fingers touch. You took your other hand and wrapped it around his second cock, before slowly stroking them along each of their lengths, lubing them up with his precum. His muscles tensed at your touch, but showed no other reaction. You licked carefully at the head of the first one, both hands stroking in cadence with each other, squeezing carefully as you became bold enough to suck the bulbous head of his cock.

“Good pet, you seem to know how to serve others well,” he grunted, crossing two of his arms before one of his free hands reached down to grab your hair, forcing you to take more of his cock as you stroked the other at a quickened pace. He moved your head along his length until you were gagging and coughing, “what’s wrong, slut? Can’t fit this cock inside that whorish mouth of yours? You’re more useless than I initially thought.” He pulled you off of him so you could breathe before putting his cock inside your mouth once more, forcing your head to bob back and forth along the length of his dick.

“Don’t worry, pet, I’ll train you nice and good so you’ll be able to suck my cocks properly.”

You whined, the vibrations traveling along his dick, causing him to tense once more.

“Yeah? Knew you’d fuckin’ like that, slut.”

You stayed like that for what seemed to be hours, with only the sounds of your mouth and his grunts filling the room, until he finally pulled you off of him. Two of his arms then grabbed you by the waist and turned you upside down, bending you at your hips so your legs wrapped around his torso, placing your cunt right above the large tongue that stuck out from his abdomen, holding you in place so your head was in line with his other cock – waiting for you to give it the same treatment as the first one.

“Don’t be mistaken, pet, this is purely for my pleasure. I don’t give a fuck if you cum or not, understood?” he spat.

“Yes, Master,” you whimpered, and he licked a broad stripe up your pussy, the flat of his tongue easily engulfing the entire area between your thighs, causing you to moan out his title. He ignored your clit, instead deciding to lap up the juices weeping out of your needy cunt. You shuddered as you took one of his cocks in your hand, collecting the precum that seeped out from its tip and using it as lubricant as you stroked along his thick length, and again licked along the slit of it before taking the head in your mouth. Using your other hand, you brought both of his cocks together in your grip, pulling off of the first one with a lewd pop before tracing your tongue along both of the tips, earning a groan from him.

His tongue bullied itself into your tight pussy, stretching it beyond what you thought you’d be able to take, pushing it against your walls and curling it into that one sensitive area inside your cunt. His saliva mixed with your own sweetness as he slurped and sucked at your heat, his grunts sending vibrations up to your clit, causing you to moan. You alternated between his two cocks, taking one dick in your mouth and sucking at its head before moving to the other – both equally thick and heavy as you settled them into your mouth. You tried going deeper, but ended up gagging before even half of his length passed through your lips. Without any warning, Sukuna let out a low growl as his cum released into your mouth and spurted all over your face, leaving you a complete mess as he took you by the leg and dropped you onto the ground.

Thinking you were done, you got up on your knees and bowed to him once more, expecting some form of dismissal for the time being until he called upon you again.

Instead, he pulled you up once more by the hair, causing you to wince in pain.

“What makes you think we’re done here, pet? Surely you don’t think that one round is enough to deplete me of stamina, do you really think so little of your own Master?” he sneered, causing you to shiver as you reminded yourself that he can’t kill you, that it’s okay.

But then, he placed you onto his large lap so that you were on all fours while atop him, and took one of his hands to grip your jaw, while a second grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back, using his grip to open your jaw. He glared down at you before spitting into your open mouth, not caring that it landed on your lips as well.

Smack!

You jolted forward, the shock of the impact on your ass surprising you more than anything else, but then he landed another blow, and another, having fully wound his hand back before landing each spank on your now reddened asscheeks. Tears formed in your eyes, the pain too much for you to handle.

Smack!

“How pathetic, unable to handle the punishment I give you. I’m not even trying to hurt you, y’know, you’re just that weak, pet.” He emphasized his point with one last spank before rubbing his hand over each of your asscheeks, causing you to whine at how raw your skin felt underneath his roughened palms.

“Now, are you going to be a good slut for your Master? Or am I going to have to punish you further?” he threatened, and you shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I’ll– I’ll be good, Master, p-promise!” you stuttered.

Sukuna grunted in response, and took you by the hips and forced you off of his lap, turning you so that you were facing away from him. He hunched over you, his incredibly large frame engulfing yours as he rubbed his cocks up against your small, weeping pussy. Your heart rate quickened, not sure you’d be able to take the size of them both at the same time.

But, it seemed as though Sukuna was feeling merciful, and started by only shoving one of them into your hot cunt, sinking balls deep as he forced himself fully into you, not waiting for you to adapt to his size. His second cock found itself brushing against your clit, giving you small sparks of pleasure that offset the pain just enough for you to tolerate him. His thrusts were fast and harsh, pounding into you as though you were no more than a fucktoy for him to use.

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes rolling back as he gripped your hair with one of his arms and pulled it back towards him. Two more hands were gripping your hips as his cock slammed into you, with his other cock roughly sliding against your clit. You let out a moan, prompting him to use his fourth hand to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds that gurgled in your throat.

“Did I ever give you permission to make noise like that?” he asked, his grip on your hair tightening. You tried shaking your head, tears falling from your eyes as he continued pounding into you. “I didn’t, so be a good slave and keep your whore mouth quiet.”

He thrust harder into you, his cock twitching and throbbing inside your gushing cunt. With one final thrust, his cum exploded inside of you, filling you up until it leaked out of your abused pussy, triggering your own accidental orgasm as you writhed underneath his intimidating form.

“Such a fucking whore, cumming all because I filled you up. You’re like a bitch in fucking heat, a needy little fucktoy,” he growled, emphasizing his words with harsh thrusts into your messy cunt. He lined up his second cock, the head of it pushing against your already-filled pussy.

“Such a whore cunt should be able to take both of these at the same time, right?” he smirked, and you let out a muffled scream as he pressed his second cock into your tight hole, this time giving you a second to deal with the pain shooting through your lower abdomen, the stretch being way too much for your poor cunt to properly accommodate him.

“Shit– so fucking tight, can’t even push my cock all the way in. Gonna have to train you to take ‘em, slut – gonna become the perfect little concubine for me, aren’t ya?” He growled, emphasizing his words by thrusting his cocks deep into your pussy. You whined into his hand as you took the abuse he dealt to your pussy, the stretch nearly unbearable between the push and pull of his cocks, the sting of the each drag against your walls eventually melting into pleasure the more he fucked into you.

He landed one last smack on your ass, which would’ve caused you to fall over had he not been gripping your hips so tightly, and, without warning, another orgasm ripped from you. You screamed into his hand, eyes rolling back as you were consumed by the sudden onset of pleasure which started in your gut and spread through your veins like wildfire. Your thighs shook, and with one last thrust into your poor cunt, he spilled his seed into your womb – his cock throbbing as ropes of his cum painted your walls white.

“Fuck–” he groaned, “maybe you do have a use, hm?”

You couldn’t respond, the aftershocks of your orgasm too much for you to adequately think, much less provide a reply.

“Don’t make me regret this, slave.” His grip on your hair tightened. “Don’t make me regret not killing you.”

His hand finally let go from being clasped around your mouth, and the rest of his hands softened their grip on you. You collapsed on the floor before him as he released his domain expansion, reveling in the sweet taste of life upon your tongue and in your soul as his cum leaked out of you.

“Yes…yes, Master…promise you won’ regret it,” you babbled, reaching your hand in between your legs to push his cum back inside of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your Master’s gift to you. You were happy that he was gracious enough to use your pussy as a cum receptacle – deeming you worthy enough to take his precious seed.

That was your only purpose now, after all.

Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @perfect-again, @pastelbluecloudy3, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @llearlert, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @crazycatlddy, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

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Thank you for reading!

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drunkenlionwrites · 7 months

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Heavenly

Warnings: fem bodied g/n reader, pwp, cockwarming, double penetration, teratophilia

At the end of the day, Syzoth comes back to your welcoming arms to unwind, relax and to warm up. He seeps into your embrace, his body completely dwarfing yours on your shared bed. The only thing that is saving you from being crushed by his weight is him supporting a part of his weight by his elbow, his face buried in the bedsheets beside yours. Once your bodies are fully connected, he barely moves for hours on end: both of his cocks filling what feels like the entirety of you. The feeling of your walls stretching around him is long gone and now your whole body just feels like enveloped in the most intimate embrace, which is partly true. Something about this hits so alien: the feeling of his body slowly but steadily growing warmer around you. His heartbeat dropping slower to the one you’d expect to feel.

That is, until your lover finally starts stirring on top of you: movements barely there, but somehow each miniscule shift of his cocks feels as if it is a violent thrust. Your body so attuned to the feeling of his lithe muscles moving and shifting as he grinds into you at an excruciatingly slow pace, that it almost hurts. He mumbles something mindlessly, voice coarse and the vibrations born inside his ribcage only add to the tormentous bliss you’re experiencing now. Eyes closed and all the limbs relaxed, the only thing you do is cradle him closer to your chest as your walls start to twitch around him. His pace is steady, slow, and almost non-existent, yet you already know how misleading it is – Syzoth has already taught you that. You feel your pleasure slowly building up, all the nerve endings of your internal clitoris having been constantly stimulated before: enough to make you feel numb and thoughtless for hours without the feeling of overstimulation, yet not enough to make your orgasm then and there before.

You’ve come to love this type of intimacy with your cold-blooded lover more than any other, for it is something you have experienced only with him, your previous fully human lovers being incapable of doing this due to their natural physical disposition. Once he basked in your warmth long enough, his movements become more purposeful – hips grind into yours steadily, rhythmically, but even when those are barely a few centimeters shifts, he just hits every needed spot inside you so fucking right, that it takes Syzoth less than a minute to bring you over the edge you’ve hanged at for the whole evening. Overstimulation finally catches up with you and you wail as your pussy clenches around his cock. His second cock, filling your other hole is so gratifying that all you can do is pathetically whine after each contraction of your muscles as Syzoth whispers gentle praises into your ear while you come down from your bliss.

He carefully slips out of you only to cling back to you back again, sighing contentedly. You want to hold him back, want to tell him how amazing this was once again, want to apologize for him not cumming yet today – but when you open your mouth, only a pathetic little whimper leaves it, prompting your boyfriend to chuckle with a hiss. ‘Relax and go to sleep, my love’ he whispers into your ear as if reading your mind. ‘This was jussst…what you said it’s called? Cockwarming.’ the mischief in his tone obvious. ‘We’ll continue tomorrow when we’re both well rested’.

You remembered how flustered he looked the first time you’ve described and named this kink of yours. And now it’s you who’s rendered speechless although due to different reasons.

#syzoth x reader #syzoth x you #reptile x reader #reptile x you #syzoth smut #reptile smut #syzoth mk1 #reptile mk1 #syzoth headcanons #reptile headcanons #lion writes

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 month

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Hello hello!! You're probably swamped with asks, but if you have the time and energy, you should do a slow burn Alastor x reader set in the 1920s where the reader is a performer at mimzys speakeasy and that's where Alastor goes to chose his victims. He sees the reader for the first time and immediately thinks that they are his next victim but he keeps getting thwarted by small incidents, such as the reader leaving early and him barely missing his chance. After a while he notices small things about them and their personality after sort of observing them, and then they meet and he loses his interest in killing them. Of course the slow burn happens, the drama ensues, he's still a killer but keeps it a secret and then after a while the reader finds out. You can choose if you want a happy ending or not, but I had that idea in my mind and your one of the only writers I see that could do it justice. Thanks for sharing your talents!!! Your amazing and gifted in ways that inspire everyone who interacts with your blog🫶🫶🫶

A/N You’re literally so sweet?? Wtf?? I love you?? Thank you??? I hope you like what I did with this fun and fluffy idea!!! ahhhhhh!!!! also, I am running with the ambiguity of the ending. I am such a little slut for ambiguity.

Burn (Human!Alastor x Human!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: SLOW BURN. SLOW. BURNING IMAGERY. A LITTLE OVER THE TOP ON THE BURNING IMAGERY THING. Dead bodies, blood, murder, killing, mentions of stalking. This one got away from me a bit.

Word Count: 4,197

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Alastor Master List

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Ravenous, that was the word. Not in the way where everything dissolves, leaving only the object of your affection. Not in the way that someone is controlled by desire. Hungry in the way fire eats paper, in the way kindling catches light. Starved in the way that leads to a progressive repeated sense of the word, a starving. A constant state of being famished that turns into a well loved and cared for blaze. Alastor burned.

The box of matches pulled from the pocket had been Alastor going to the bar, all those months before. Nearly a year now, once he sat and really thought about it. He had been going to Mimzy's little speakeasy on the outskirts of town since it had been just that, a little speakeasy on the outskirts of town rather than the full fledged, illegal club she ran today.

Back when it was a speak easy, there had never been a problem. On that fateful day, though he hadn't known it then, the club had changed its form. It had become the kindling. Sitting down at the table had been pulling a match from the box and Y/n.... Y/n had been the rough hewn striker paper he lit it on. It was all so obvious now, looking back. The expression 'hindsight is 20/20' existed for a reason.

So, Alastor had entered the club (matchbox out of pocket). As soon as Mimzy had spotted him, she had run over with a bright smile and a glass of whiskey on the house as always. Alastor had always liked Mimzy. She was wild and positively hilarious when she wanted to be but, at the same time, she had a good head for business. Her morals were just wobbly enough that Alastor felt comfortable with her, a camaraderie he felt with no other.

The lights had gone down suddenly and Mimzy, cutting herself off mid sentence, had turned to the stage in excitement.

"Good show tonight?" Alastor had asked.

Alastor never came to Mimzy's club for the music. She knew he didn't care, not really. Still, he had the curtesy to ask and so, she whipped back towards him.

"You betcha." she grinned up at him, "I just got this new kid? Came from all the way up north, can you believe that? Anyway, they have a set of pipes like you wouldn't believe! Just the bees knees, I tell you."

Grabbing Alastor's arm, Mimzy dragged him to a table by the stage. Alastor sat down across from her (match from the box) with an air of mild reluctance. Mimzy tapped her hands on the table impatiently.

A spot light flickered on and a scrawny young kid stepped onto the stage. He couldn't be much younger than Alastor or Mimzy themselves but he was one of those people that always look younger than they are. He had been working for Mimzy for a while now but, Alastor had never bothered to learn his name. He was simply 'Mimz's Manager' in his view of the world. The kid cleared his throat, leaning in towards the microphone which had been placed at center stage.

"How are we feeling out there tonight?" he asked the room at large and there had been a miscellaneous cheer from the room at large, "Well that's good to hear! We've got a real treat for you tonight folks. All the way from the Big Apple, we bring you, Y/n!"

The kid left the stage and a new figure stepped out from the shadows (revelation of match striker paper). The minute Alastor saw them, in the well cut suit that shone dark in the light, he knew. They were perfect. Slim, but not too fit and shorter than he was. Morally ambiguous enough in their aims that they had come running from New York to work at a speakeasy. This 'Y/n,' if that was even their real name, was his ideal next victim. Alastor smiled in the dim light as somewhere off stage, a piano began to play.

"I'll be loving you, always" the person sang and Alastor was taken aback.

Mimzy had been right. He had never heard a voice like it before. They sang with an emotional depth that could be heard from few. Somehow, they still managed to keep it sounding like music.

"When the things you plan Need a helping hand I will understand, always, always"

Mimzy leaned across the table to Alastor, her eyes alight.

"What did I tell you?" she whispered.

Alastor nodded his head to the side in vague agreement.

"Not for just an hour Not for just a day"

When they finished their set a half hour later, it was to raucous applause. The house lights raised and with them, Mimzy stood from her chair.

"I'll be back in two shakes." she promised before disappearing off into the crowd.

Alastor leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath his weight. Contemplatively, he took a sip from his drink. The time before a kill was nearly as an enjoyable as the act itself. It was ritualistic, it brought him closer to god.

Before he knew it, Mimzy was back, dragging the singer behind her. They looked slightly frazzled, their hair a bit messy and their brow furrowed.

"Mimzy!" they exclaimed as they struggled to keep up with the woman holding their wrist in her vice-like grip.

Their speaking voice was... different than Alastor had expected. From the way they had sung on stage, he had thought it would be sharp, loud, ebullient. Instead, it was rather soft. Alastor couldn't help but think of the creek out back of the house he had grown up in.

"Al, meet my new favorite!" Mimzy announced, coming to a stop beside Alastor.

"I..."

The situation had been unexpected to say the least. Alastor had had a long day. He hadn't come here to socialize, he came here to drink. Now, he was at a loss for words, the haze of sleep and irritation clouding his mind.

Y/n looked at Mimzy before fixing their gaze back on him. The took a step forward, fixing a smile on their face, and held out their hand.

"Y/n."

So it was their real name. The one they presented to the world, at least.

Alastor smiled, standing from his seat and taking their hand in his.

"Alastor."

They had a firm handshake. There was something authoritative about it, something just a bit too confident.

"Pleasure to be meeting you." they said.

"Quite the pleasure." Alastor nodded.

They broke contact and Y/n turned to Mimzy, suddenly seeming very tired.

"I'm gonna head, Mimzy." they hummed, their voice nearly drowned out by the cacophony surrounding them.

Before Mimzy could say a word against their statement, they were gone. The crowd sheltered them from sight almost immediately. After that night, Alastor started coming to the club a lot more often.

He always sat in the same seat, the table near stage left. It was right next to the exit. Anyone getting off the stage had to go right past him. It was a calculated choice. Step one of his little projects, so to speak, had always been learning more about his victims, finding out their patterns.

The problem was, Y/n never seemed to do the same thing twice. Every time Alastor would think himself ready, would ready everything for the action, something different happen. The first time, it had been that Y/n had simply managed to slip out earlier than normal. Mimzy was always introducing them to someone or another after their shows, delaying their departure. That night, it seemed, they had somehow been able to avoid the mayhem.

Another time, the problem had been that Y/n had stayed at the club too long. Alastor was a working man and once the clock hit midnight, it was time to cut his losses and go home. A third time, Y/n had just happened to call out sick the very night he had gotten everything back in order.

A month in, and Alastor was ready for his fourth attempt. He sat at his usual table, drinking his usual drink. When Y/n left the stage, he kept his eyes trained on them as always. It went like clockwork - Mimzy pulled them away, they tried desperately to escape and eventually, they succeeded. That was when everything went south again.

One second, Y/n was by the bar and the next? Gone. Alastor got to his feet, tossing a bill or two to the bar tender and disappearing out through the door. He was determined. Tonight had to be the night. If tonight wasn't the night? He was done. Alastor was not a foolish man, he knew when he was beat.

Quietly, nothing but the sound of cicadas and the occasional echo of a car from elsewhere in the city accompanying him, Alastor slipped down the ally he knew the club's back door let out into.

"There you are."

Alastor spun around.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

Y/n leaned casually against the wall, the dark fabric of their dress blending softly with the night. When Alastor didn't reply, standing in their gaze like a deer in headlights, they stood themselves up and walked the step and a half it took for them to be face to face with him.

"I'd like it if you stopped following me. Or, trying to follow me. It's getting kind of old.'' (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Alastor resumed his composure. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he leaned forward, fixing a teasing grin onto his face.

"Oh, would you now?"

Y/n, much to his surprise, held their ground.

"Yeah, I would. Whats your interest in me anyways?"

Thinking on his feet had never been an issue for Alastor. Besides, he really did have some questions for the illusive singer. Or, he had one question for them. One that might lead to others.

"Oh, you know." he hummed, straightening back up, "All the way from the 'Big Apple.'"

Y/n scoffed at his parody of their nightly introduction to the stage. They crossed their arms, glancing off to the ally's entrance as a drunk couple stumbled by.

"Yep."

"Why?"

Turning to face him again, Y/n narrowed their eyes.

"Why do you wanna know?"

The hint of an accent. At least he knew they weren't lying about where they came from.

"I suppose you can call me a curious fan."

"I think being a bit less of both those things would suit you."

They fell into a brief, nearly uncomfortable silence. Letting out a sigh, Y/n was the one to break it.

"Look," they began, "I know you're friends with my boss and all but... I am going to go back into that dive and I am going to stay there until you are long gone. I'll stay the night if I have to, d'ya get it?"

Alastor's smile tightened.

"Loud and clear."

"Good."

Y/n didn't see Alastor for another week. Slowly, the tension that had permeated their every waking moment since meeting Alastor that first night, the constant ache of his eyes on their back, began to fade. Just a little, but it was enough. When they saw him sitting at the bar almost two weeks after their little altercation, the amount it had faded was just enough to make them angry at his return.

Alastor hadn't really meant to come back. His plan was to give it a month, maybe even two. His plan was to come back and resume life like it had been before he had ever even known Y/n existed. His mind had other plans.

He had tried to find another target, occupy himself with a new victim. There was something unsatisfying about it, he couldn't quite get his head in the game. Every time he went to trail a potential victim, he heard their voice ringing out in the silence of his mind.

There you are.

Alastor had been killing for about three years now. He had a good number of victims under his belt and was in no ways a newbie. Even back when he had been one, no one had ever caught him out like that before. There had been a couple close calls, sure. There always were but waiting for him? Thwarting his plans repeatedly? Beating him at his own game?

"I thought I told you to leave me alone."

Alastor looked up from his glass of whiskey, smiling politely up at Y/n. He could feel the anger radiating off them in waves.

"Mimzy would be rather sad if I just up and disappeared like that, no explanation."

He caught sight of her across the open space and waved. With a bright smile, Mimzy waved back before returning to the conversation she had been embroiled in. Alastor turned back to Y/n.

"Oh, wouldn't you hear that? You're getting sober. Congratulations."

"Ah, but there is still the music and that wonderful new singer who came down from up north not too long ago."

Y/n took a deep breath, calming themselves.

"It's not that hard of a question to answer. Or at least, it shouldn't be for most people. What, are you on the run from the cops? I heard life is oh so dangerous in those big cities up there, after all. Maybe part of the reason was you."

"If I answer your question, will you leave me alone?"

Alastor was silent for a short moment before he replied.

"If I like the answer? Sure. I'll leave you alone."

In a single, sharp movement, Y/n dragged the stool beside him out and sat down. Tapping their fingers on the table, they got the bartender's attention and ordered themselves a drink.

"You want to know why I left New York?" they hummed thoughtfully, "It's because of guys like you."

A shock of sudden nerves fought through Alastor's system. Did they somehow know? After all this time, had someone figured it out? After just under two months?

"Guys like me? What ever on earth do you mean?"

"You know, pretty boys. Pretty boys who turn out to be creepy boys that don't know the meaning of the word 'no.'" (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

It wasn't the first time Alastor had been called pretty or handsome or something of the like. In fact, he knew he was pretty. It was part of why the whole ruse worked. Normally, however, when people told him he was, it was accompanied by far too much blushing and looks to the side. Y/n held his gaze firmly the whole time.

"So, you're escaping an ex? A jaded lover?"

"A jaded 'someone-who-watched-me-perform-once-and-decided-it-meant-we-were-married'? Yeah."

The bartender placed the drink in front of Y/n. They picked up the glass, downing it in one go. They grimaced.

"You like my answer?"

"Hmmm... no." Alastor grinned, ear to ear, "I don't think I do."

Y/n sighed.

"What is it you want from me?"

Alastor's brow furrowed in confusion. He was very good at keeping the inside from showing on the outside. The question had just caught him so off guard, or maybe it was something about Y/n that had him on his toes, he couldn't help it. They kept seeming to make his head spin.

"Want from you?"

"Money? Sex? Fame? A fall guy? What."

"I don't want anything from you." (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Y/n eyed him suspiciously. The answer had been automatic. Alastor himself was struggling to comprehend the words that had left his mouth. He wanted to kill them, right? What he wanted from them was their life, right? That was what he had been working for over all these days, fighting for. He knew it was true so why did the statement not feel like a lie as it had traveled from his tongue?

"Yeah right." Y/n placed their hands on the bar, pulling themselves to stand, "I totally believe that."

"Just your time, Songbird. Just your time."

They turned to him.

"I don't understand you."

"You don't have to. I don't understand you either."

They paused.

"It frustrates me." Y/n admitted, "Who even are you? I don't know anything except your name."

Alastor gave their now empty chair a pointed look. Y/n stood in contemplation for a few seconds before they nodded their head once, seemingly to themselves, and took their seat once again. Confidently, they tapped two fingers on the lip of their empty glass.

"Another."

(match strikes paper, match lights.)

Alastor was the match, Y/n was the paper. The club stopped being kindling the moment the pair took their conversation outside its boundaries for the first time, about a month or so later. For a while, there was no kindling, there was just match and paper. Alastor liked it that way.

It had been hard enough to come to terms with the fact that he really did have no interest in killing them anymore. That the moment such an idea occurred, he could see them in his minds eye, smiling or picking at the hem of their shirt the way they did when they were nervous.

The kindling reappeared when Alastor realized the match had been struck in the first place. That was a whole other thing. The friendship suddenly seemed easy, the loss of bloodlust directed toward them was like nothing in the face of a realization like that. Once he recognized the flame, Alastor stopped being a match and Y/n stopped being paper. The match became the little flutter of their stomachs when they caught sight of one another, the tension of the moments where they could make contact. Y/n and Alastor were kindling now and they were standing oh so very close to that dangerous flame.

It was Alastor's sleeve that caught fire first. It happened when they had gotten caught in the rain. Y/n had opened their umbrella and, seeing Alastor had none, insisted he join them in its cover. Alastor had, of course, refused. With a roll of their eyes, they had grabbed his hand and yanked him forcefully into place beside them. Alastor hadn't realized they had only touched once, when they first shook hands, until Y/n's skin made contact with his once again.

The worst part about it all, was that it made sense. It made so much sense. They were quiet, contemplative, and calculative. Before long, being with them felt like being with an extension of himself in an odd way. Alastor couldn't quite describe it, he didn't have the words.

Y/n always seemed to notice things no one else did. When Alastor had forgotten his umbrella the next three or four times it had rained, they had confronted him.

"Almost like you're doing this on purpose." they had hummed softly.

Though they didn't look at him, Y/n knew Alastor was blushing.

"Shut up."

The next thing to catch had been Y/n's collar. Y/n had been chatting with him, sharing a drink before their set and they had lost track of time. At the sound of the stage manager, Alastor still did not know his name, beginning their introduction to the stage, they had jumped up in fright, hurriedly tightening their tie which they had loosened in the casual atmosphere. Noticing that the action had caused part of their collar to fold awkwardly, Alastor had gotten to his feet as well. With a gentleness he had not made use of since his mother died, he had fixed Y/n's collar.

"Wh-" they had stopped mid question, having realized what he was doing.

His hand lingered on their collar. Y/n's eyes traveled up his arm, at last meeting his own.

"Thank you."

Those big wide eyes, full of curiosity and comfort. Alastor could get lost in those.

"Y/n!" the stage manager announced.

"Shit!" they exclaimed and the magic of the moment was broken as they pulled themselves away.

All it took was that. It wasn't much but, fire has a way of working with what it has. When a few days later Y/n had stepped out into the street without looking, being too caught up in the story they were telling Alastor, and he had pulled them back just as a car passed, it was too late. The house couldn't be saved, the flames had gone too far. A few blocks later, after thanking him, Y/n had realized they were still holding hands. They stopped, pulling Alastor to a halt beside them.

"What are we doing?"

"We're going for lunch. Are you quite alright? You were the one who sugge-"

"No, Alastor. I mean: what are we doing?"

Alastor followed the path of their eyes to their interlaced fingers.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a pause. The world turned around them.

"I don't... I don't know if I can do this anymore."

Alastor took a deep breath before braving the sight of their bewildered and slightly saddened face once again.

"I said all I wanted was your time."

"That's the problem."

Y/n let go of his hand, running their own through their loose hair.

"That's the problem, Alastor." they said again.

"What is?"

Y/n had a habit of telling him the most serious things eye to eye with a stoney demeanor. He was surprised to see them break from this confident custom of theirs as they looked away, their arms wrapping protectively around themself.

"I want more. I want you to want more."

Alastor was stunned, he was speechless.

"I... I'll see you tomorrow, Al."

Before they could make it more than a step away, Alastor grabbed their shoulder, spinning them to him. Y/n looked up at him, confusion painting their features with the most delicate brush.

Alastor struggled, he fought. Still, there were no words.

"Don't you get it?" he asked, "I want your time. Y/n, I want you."

Alastor kept finding himself in trickier and trickier situations. First there had been trying to kill them, then the hurdle of not wanting to kill them. Friendship had given way to its own bag of worms and now that they were more than friends?

He had thought that it all would stop. He had thought that if things ever worked out the way they had, everything would be okay. He had forgotten his nature.

At first, hiding the killings was just as easy as it had been before. It did not stay that way. Alastor was good at hiding things, always had been. That wasn't the issue. What was the issue was that he cared about Y/n, he didn't want to hurt them. Keeping secrets... well, his mother had always told him that no one ever fools anybody. His mother was a wise woman. His mother had been right.

Y/n had stopped by as a surprise. They had a home cooked meal in a basket and a bag over their shoulder full of records they thought he would like. When they stepped into the foyer of Alastor's large, garden district home, they had called their usual greeting.

Alastor's heart had stopped at the sound of their voice. He froze, his cleaver still firmly wedged between the shoulder and chest of the man he was chopping into pieces for easier disposal. Hoping it was his mind playing tricks on him, he waited. They called again.

"Al! I have a surprise for you! The surprise is me! And also? I made you dinner. Come out! I know you're home!"

Under any other circumstances, them showing up like this would have filled him with unbridled joy. However, it wasn't any other circumstances. It was these circumstances. Alastor was covered in another man's blood. There was a body just a few rooms from his beloved. Either way, they would find out the truth. They were a nosey thing, always so inquisitive.

"Alastor!" he heard them call again.

They were closer now, much closer. He watched in a mixture of horror, despair, and a twinge of excitement as the doorknob jiiggled.

"Alastor?"

How would Y/n react to such a sight? Would they cower in fear? Was their love alone enough to hold them here, to tie them to him in loyalty? Would they run to the cops? Would they cry? Would they ask to help? Would he have to kill them too?

It was sickeningly delightful, all the unknowns. His heart pounded violently in his ears. The door swung open.

"There you are!"

"My dear! How wonderful to see you."

----

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

Sorry if the end made you angry,,, I just think the not knowing is so much more fun!

Also the song is "Always" by Irving Berlin.

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shibaraki · 1 year

Text

WHAT THE WATER GAVE ME ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: when your sailboat is caught in a vicious storm you are saved by a whale sized mer that cannot keep his curiosity—nor his affections—at bay.

tags: GN reader, suggestive, merfolk au, giant mer deku, storms + boating accidents, language barrier, a little angst, fluff, near drowning + mild injury (no detailed desc), courting behaviours, modern fantasy, macro/micro, manhandling (literally), hopeful ending

wc: 6.4K

↳ for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server! ↰

There’s little you remember. A breeze carrying the taste of sea salt grew bitter and cutting. The gentle lull of the waves slowly grew treacherous. Freezing sheets of grey rain blurred visibility, ocean foaming at the mouth. You lurched as the boat tipped, taking a hit to the head on the main mast. Grappling with consciousness, you recall how your body had been flung into the depths, a sharp and endless cradle; cold enough, kind enough, that you quickly lost all sensation.

Then you’re gasping desperately. When your lungs fill with cool night air relief floods your system. An ache wracks your being, muscles seizing and bones rattling, but the only thing you can think is: I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.

Everything comes back in small pieces. You slump back and clutch at your soaked shirt, wincing at the bruising around your lungs with each breath. Above is a wide open sky littered with stars and the moon hangs high. You notice that you’re floating then; not on the surface of the water but in a steep puddle that stops above your waist, clothes entirely soaked. Surrounding you are… walls?

Adjusted to the darkness, your eyes drag cautiously across them. They are curved like a bowl, and seem oddly shelved, quite similar to a cupped human hand except much bigger. As that thought crosses your mind the upper shelf moves, and the two walls turn inward, opening a small crevice underneath you to let the water spill back into the sea.

And then a soft lucid croon vibrates through the air. You feel it deep in your chest; the sound is soothing, like a mother’s hum, pressing on an old, innate need for comfort.

Gravity swoops through your belly as the structure moves. Down come the walls. They lay slightly flat, though still keeping you in a shallow divot. Your eyes squeeze shut and sting. The storm must have killed you because what is plain to see could only be conjured in a dream.

The size of a small blue whale— neither blue nor whale. A soft jaw and a pale face, cheeked covered in what appeared to be sunspots. Full lips parted to warble in quiet wonder, revealing a set of large sharp teeth. Either side of the creature's neck are diaphanous slits. Gills. Smatterings of luminescent green scales trail beautifully from the throat to the shoulders. You notice a glow on the ocean’s surface, the rest of his form hidden below.

Rocked off balance as their head dips, dark tendrils of hair clinging to skin, you are met with a pair of large pupil-less eyes. Vibrant green speckled with white, full of curiosity. A few clicks and a whistle echoes into the night. Your tongue feels like a slab of lead, cloven to the roof of your mouth, frozen by unadulterated fear.

It's a mer. It must be. Mer sightings are incredibly rare. You’re in the palm of a legend. A giant one at that.

What you now presume to be the mer’s thumb passes over you cautiously. You flinch despite his obvious attempt at telegraphing the movement. To someone your size it still happens a little too fast. The sinew in your neck hurts, wrung with tension as the thumb stops an inch short of your crown. Seconds elapse. There’s a light pressure, liquid streaming down your face, a back and forth motion, a low warbling.

The mer is petting you.

“Wha—?” your voice comes out rasped, painful as it scratches the inside of your throat. Dissolving into a violent coughing fit, you curl forward with arms crossed over your stomach as you vomit, crying out through the sharp stabs in your ribs. Overhead, the mer whines, and you’re prepared this time as his hands move.

“I’m… I’m okay, I think,” you croaked, mostly to yourself, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The acrid taste of blood and salt lingers in your teeth. Suddenly, a warm gust of air knocks the wind out of you— the tremors too. The soft hair on your arms prickles at the sudden chill as the warmth retreats, but you’re grateful to be a little dryer.

When you glance up the mer is much closer. His face has gentled into sadness. He'd huffed a breath over you the same way one might do to keep their hands warm. You are struck by the thoughtfulness. Unlike the old stories this mer seemed intent on keeping you alive. So far he has treated you softly, albeit clumsily, and tried to comfort you. Understanding settles over you accompanied by a sense of helplessness. To this mer you are probably nothing more than an injured baby bird.

“Did…” you try to speak louder, the words strained. “Did you save me?”

The moonlight kisses him just right. His expression blooms when you speak, a reflexive trill building in his throat to verbalise happiness. Beneath the mass of curls on his head there are two fin shaped ears fluttering. Giant as he may be, the mer is… cute, as well as devastating.

You swallow and wince. It feels like sandpaper. “Can you understand me?” you ask, purposefully slow. Any local information gathered about merfolk was either a lie or rumour. Some say they can understand spoken word and others don’t. Perhaps this mer had migrated from far away where the human tongue is different. Or maybe it was his first time meeting a person. That would explain the enthusiasm.

You’re given a plaintive blink. Membranous lids first, outer lids after. The muted roll of the waves fills the silence as you gaze at one another, nearly forgetting your question all together as you’re pulled in— wading through sea glass depths. Two pulsing clicks ripple across the open water and you startle out of your reverie.

He tips to meet you halfway. You steel yourself, unsteady as you try to stand, and choke a laugh when the creature nudges his nose into your middle. He rumbles a purr, as though pleased by the proximity. You shudder when it resonates pleasantly through your body.

“Okay that’s—dangerous,” you strain a laugh, bracing against his nose. Fatigue threads its way into your muscles. The adrenaline is beginning to wear off and giving way to a harsh headache. Your eyes close, the only mercy being that it is dark out. The mer exhales another hot breath against your lap.

“Guess you won’t be talking anytime soon,” you continue aloud. A weak smile curls at your lips as you recline to look at him better, “Sorry if I don’t make good company”.

Seeing him cross eyed makes you laugh, even through the tenderness, and you stroke your hand against his cheek; so contrivedly real looking that it seems like it must be a trick. Licking the salt water from your lips, you drag your palms from freckle to freckle, forming patterns and constellations. His skin is deceptively soft. Smooth and slippery— like blubber, you can only assume.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you lean into the hum he is emitting, low and supple. You reach with fingertips stretched to skim along his lower lashes. Closer now you see the green hues in his hair where the light reflects. Though he might not be able to understand the language you hoped your reverence would carry through in your tone. You think perhaps it does; a faint red glow stains his fin tipped ears and happy whistles quake through your bones.

The saccharine moment is cut short by something splashing nearby. It sounds big. You startle with a yelp, cowering back into the safety of the mer’s hand. Glancing back over his shoulder, face crinkled and lips thin, you thought he looked almost petulant. How unsettlingly human it is.

Collapsing into a puddle of vertigo, you clutch your head as he suddenly turns. A sad trill reverberates in your skull and you’re sliding, the too-corporeal ground rising to meet you. You land with a thump on damp wood where he puts you down, forcing a pained wheeze from your throat.

Another splash. This time it is followed by a stern wailing call that forces a frantic urgency into the mer’s movements. From above he looks between you and the black horizon, eyes wide and beseeching, as though he wanted to impress his intentions with his gaze. You think you get it.

I’ll be back soon, he’s saying. “Go,” you try to smile and gesture to your surroundings. “It’s not like I can go anywhere anytime soon”.

Relief colours his features. Then he’s gone. Sinking into the ocean like a stone, frighteningly silent. The boat rolls over a passing wave and nausea churns in your stomach. You squint through the moonlight, dizzy, and make out the limp flapping material of the sail, now torn and strewn across the deck. Good enough.

You gather strength and stretch to pull it over your form. If drowning didn’t take you then hypothermia would. Dark spots gather in your vision, closing in as you curl into yourself. The ocean rocks you gently in her arms. You can only lie back—on what you now know to be remains of the boat—listen to the rasp in your breathing, watch the flickering stars blur together, and think of how small you really are.

When you wake the sky is bleeding into dawn with the quieting rays of light. Soft enough that you can look directly at the sun and see the blushing canvas it paints. Sitting up with a wounded groan, you stare at the far off horizon. You cannot discern where reality began and your dreams ended, only that at some point you walked between them.

Tugging the tarp close to your chest you survey the surroundings. Pinpricks of seawater spray up the hull. The mast has been snapped in half and the main sails are gone along with the helm. Below the cabin is flooded. Most of the resources you brought, along with the VHF radio, have seemingly gone overboard.

Your lips are unbearably dry. Skin splits, iron mixing with salt. You inhale deeply, lungs bloating with crisp air, and exhale raggedly through the soreness. First priority is water. Like a newborn calf you amble over to the hatch. There are coolers fixed to the floors under the cockpit that you hope survived—

One broken and empty. One mostly undamaged.

“C’mon… Please…” opening the lock is more strenuous than it should be. Your fingers tremble and slip, still numb. A sob wracks your body. Relief buckles you at the knees and you brace against the counter. Inside is an emergency flare gun and an assortment of non perishables, including biscuits and bottled water.

You fumble with the bottle cap, shaking as you bring it to your mouth. It immediately soothes your throat and you begin to gulp mouthfuls, pulling off only for breath. Tearing the biscuit packet open with your teeth you settle back in the spot you slept on. It crumbles, dry enough to stick to the roof of your mouth, but food is food.

Two things are certain. You’re stuck here, and you have no idea how far off course the storm threw you. You shoot the first flare, a bright red vein soaring into the sky, leaving you with nothing to do but wait. The gun had at least three more rounds. Would anybody see it out here?

Another streak of light flares as the sun rises and casts an orange shimmer across the ocean surface. The giant mer crosses your thoughts as your eyes drag over the large indent pressed into the side of the boat. Though unsure if he existed at all you miss the security of his hands.

You lose focus listening to the sea exhale. Barely cognisant of the formless blur spreading like ink in the distance, growing in size the closer it gets. It slows a few feet away and the momentum has waves jolting through the water. Scrambling to grab the side of the boat as it jerks, ice grips at your heart when you notice the huge shadow lingering nearby.

When it rises the blur sharpens and takes shape. Features distort, rippling under the tide, and you daren’t blink. Eyes of sea glass stare back with equal hesitance. Cool morning light reflects off dark green curls, strands laid to a pale forehead, flat and reminiscent of wet seaweed. The surface breaks dramatically, water rushing down his head and fizzling into foam.

You release a staggered breath, realising you’d been holding it. A mer really had saved you. In daylight you can appreciate the sheer size of him. Shoulders near the width of your boat, covered in opalescent scales and dark scars.

Emboldened by your silence a careful hum vibrates in his throat. His gills pulse and flutter as he comes in closer. The sun is eclipsed by his hand, shadows looming across the deck where his fingers come to rest. Careful, retreating quickly when the structure groans, and then returning again, gentler.

“You… came back,” you whisper. Disbelief bleeds into your voice. A needling sensation flows to your legs as you stand. You grasp his fingertip and the mer smiles— a trill behind his lips, stretched warmly across his face, enough to lift the swell of his freckled cheeks. Light undulates brightly in his eyes, swaying like patterns you see on the seafloor.

“It’s good to know I didn’t lose my mind,” a wave of uncertainty washes over you as the mer watches you expectantly. There’s a clear intelligence in his gaze, rapt inquisitiveness, but you can’t yet be sure he really understands. Equally, you know precisely nothing about mer social etiquette. “Does this make us friends? You’re friendly, right? I hope so. I probably taste like shit, you know”.

Ignoring his curious hum you brace against his hand and lean toward the edge of the deck. Illuminated by the sunlit hues, more of his upper body is visible to you. Waves lap placidly up a strong chest, smooth muscled pecs glistening. The scales spanning his flanks are notably larger and thicker.

You wonder the science behind his existence, if it was simply work of the Gods, or there was some reason for him to be so egregiously large. Merfolk have always been depicted as human sized or close enough to it. “...Guess I should give you a name. You’re pretty green. Midori? Too simple. How about Midoriya?”

His finger wiggles slightly with a playful whistle, happy about the name. It bends to curl around you. Even a slight shift causes the boat to dip. What must be an imperceptible movement for him nearly knocks you on your feet. “Ah—Steady!” your yelp scratches at the inside of your throat and nausea pulses hot in your stomach. “Oh, fuck. That sucked”.

Midoriya’s head tilts and he croons. It sounds apologetic. “Just go easy with me, alright? You could probably squash me like a bug,” you squint at the folds in his finger, and further at the gossamer webbing in the spaces between each knuckle as your stomach twists uncomfortably in hunger. Asking him to bring you fish would probably be futile.

Patting the firm heel you move away from his hand and dismiss his solemn whine. For a creature his size he sure was a bundle of nerves. “Don’t panic. I just need to eat something,” you pick the bottled water up once more and sip, keeping it held in your mouth for a few precious seconds. The sun flares as the giant creature moves silently, leaning in closer. He huffs through his nose at the food packets.

“Nu-uh, you can’t have these. They’re mine,” the biscuit falls apart, sodden between your damp fingers. Tasteless and yet not so insipid now that you’re with company. Swallowing thickly, you watch the large body bob and dither beside the boat, scrutinising your every move.

Hell, you’re not even doing anything particularly interesting. This must be how animals feel in zoos.

Dragging your gaze to the skies your thoughts turn toward getting home. There is nothing for miles. Laid out before you is a near seamless horizon, planes blurring together the longer you look. “Hey, Midoriya. Are you the only one out here, or are there more?” Whales were your first thought. They traveled in pods, to your knowledge. “Is that who called out to you last night?”

Midoriya’s answer comes in wide eyed blinks. A self deprecating smile thins across your lips. The lack of response is expected, though you are struck by the quick flash of emotion crossing his expression as you say, “Nevermind. As long as nothing comes around to eat me before I die on this stupid boat”.

Midoriya pouts. Shakes his head and makes it rain. He clicks firmly before descending into the depths again. You panic and scramble closer to the edge, wondering if you’d upset him, but find that he is lazily circling the area back and forth. His hair moves in soft tendrils around his face, dancing along the current. Your eyes widen, mouth open in awe as he dives lower and suddenly—

Opalescent hues of green and red. Breaching the surface Midoriya arcs his body into the air and twists his torso in your direction, arms splayed out in joy. There isn’t enough time to appreciate him all. His lower half is longer than his upper body, thicker at his waist bordered by wispy iridescent pelvic fins that flare in the breeze, another running the length of his spine. The tail tapers, narrowing toward a large fork ending with two broad fins.

He lands with a great splash. Exhilarated laughter shakes your shoulders as you cling to the nearest fixture, swaying clumsily over the oncoming waves. You squint through the thin spray. White sea foam ripples out in wide rings, sparkling softly under the sun and dissolving in the calm.

“Holy shit,” adrenaline numbs the tenderness throbbing in your gullet. Midoriya jumps again as he draws closer to you, this time with less height, and you cup your hands around your mouth to cheer for him. His beaming grin is all sharp teeth when he resurfaces, finned ears vibrating. He looks happy that you’re happy.

Part of you remains one foot in disbelief. You expect that anytime now you will wake up washed up on an old forgotten beach. Another cannot discount how real the mer feels under your palms as you reach for him, the vibration of his pleased hum shaking your bones and warming your belly. Midoriya rises up into the insignificant touch like a pampered feline and forces your arms wider to accept more of him.

A strong briney smell fills your senses. “That was incredible. Were you trying to cheer me up?” plastered to his cheek in some poor imitation of a hug, you press an exaggerated kiss to his cheek. A glow spreads across his skin like circuitry, crossing over his nose bridge, flushed red. It makes the air taste metallic. You feel another warm exhale billowing where his own mouth pouts, pushing against your lap. Tears prickle behind your eyes and you blink them away as the anxiety in your chest recedes, “Thanks, big guy”.

Midoriya keeps you company well into the day, never straying too far. You acclimate to his presence and feel at ease with him by your side. Hair half dry in the softening light of the afternoon sun he lets you coil his waves around your arm with eyes crinkled at the corners. He doesn’t appear to be bored in the slightest.

You’re kept under his watchful eyes as you amble around what remains of the boat for something, anything, that might help you get home. At one point you wade into the flooded cabin and search for the HF radio again only to be bombarded by a cornucopia of concerned wailing. Lesson learned: Midoriya does not like when you’re out of sight. You come up empty handed, vexed and dizzy.

There are a few instances you’re almost tipped over despite Midoriya’s determination to be careful. One by one, you are gifted with more current-smoothed stones and rusted trinkets than you know how to carry. His curious hand pokes at the broken equipment strewn around. You end up rambling for hours, explaining each gifted object to him to keep yourself conscious. It’s not as if the mer is an unwilling participant. You might be unable to understand him but the stuttered clicking and whistles he responds with are as close to conversation as you're going to get. Plus— it’s cute.

Noon elapses and no vessels in sight. Now laid beside the indent left in the hull, your vision rises and falls as the ocean shifts. Midoriya lies parallel to you, on his back, buoyed on the surface and sunning himself. He looks a lot more vibrant than before, as though he had really soaked up the daylight. A true picture of serenity. His eyes are closed for the first time; an opportunity to observe him candidly.

There are deep scars on his arms, and elsewhere too. Healed pink on skin and pallid white where his scales would be. Your gaze drags lower, over his bare front, appreciating the defined peaks of his abdomen. Down to a toned navel where scales climb over his hip bones, pale skin gradually blending into rich green. Further, to the powerful muscled tail elevated in the water. You absentmindedly lick your lips and wonder where his di—

You halt. Heat flashes through his body in a strange mix of shame and arousal and you violently shake your head as if to throw away the thought.

Midoriya hums. Snapping back you meet that drowsy half lidded stare, caught red handed. You gulp and offer a sheepish grin, “Sorry. I just wanted a closer look”.

At that the mer turns noiselessly and broad ripples fan out into the distance. Cautious, you push up onto your forearms as Midoriya proffered his hand, indicating that you jump onto his palm. Your spine straightens with a frisson of excitement.

“You’ll let me see?” you gestures to yourself and then to the others' languid repose. Midoriya’s eyelids blink. He tilts expectantly. “Fuck. Okay. Promise to catch me?”

Click, click, whistle. It’s as good a ‘yes’ as any.

Weak in the knees, you feel your thighs ache as you move. A rush of wind blows over, sharp and chilly. Your pulse throbs and knocks around your skull. It’s more strenuous than it should be to climb down, a deep instinct unwilling to part with the railings, fighting fear as you hang your lower body over the depths.

Midoriya scoops you up delicately. Your stomach rolls at the sudden change in direction, gravity bearing down on you. You land in the shallow of his palm on hands and knees. Head lifted, you lock eyes, and a sonorous trill thrums through your veins.

“What did I say about being caref—Hey!”

He brings you to his chest. Legs unfurl from under your hips as you slide down onto his collar and land feet first in the ankle deep water covering his body, soaking your pants through. Midoriya is safe, solid ground beneath you, buoyed on the ocean surface, yet still uniquely soft in the way relaxed muscle often is.

You keep tension in your abdomen for balance and give a cursory glance, first seeking permission before wading toward the cluster of green curling around his shoulders. A webwork glow blooms quietly across his skin and hems the edge of his scales red.

Midoriya’s pleased face takes up most of your peripheral vision. A plump mouth filled with pointed teeth that could swallow you whole juxtaposed by the wobbly smile playing on his lips. You crouch, knees wet, and brush your fingers against the hard plates decorating his skin. They’re slightly slimy and the smallest ones are the size of your hand.

“They’re beautiful, Midoriya,” you tell him earnestly, grinning. The kaleidoscopic patterns in his irises appear as though they’re dancing. Flecks of white and gold gleam amidst the green. Humming in dulcet tones, heavy streams of seawater rain down on you as his thumb comes to rest atop your head once again. There’s barely any pressure— seems you no longer need to worry that he might accidentally break your neck.

You squeezed your eyes shut, exhaling harshly as the thick rivulets trickled over your face and glaring the second you looked back at him. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” your nose wrinkles, brine lingering unpleasantly in his nostrils. You think you can taste it in the back of your throat. Deku is busy preening, turned into the crook of his arm and creating waves, flustered by such a simple compliment.

A cherry blush follows the path of your thumb as it returns to smoothing over the tiny ridges impressed into each individual scale; retaining your heat for a few seconds before fading into green. They flash luridly at your words—specifically your praise. Knowing you had such an effect on a mer of his magnitude stokes something in you, possessive and fond, a feeling you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to replicate. But it also confirmed what you had been suspecting for most of the day.

“I knew it. You can understand me,” you accuse breathlessly. It isn’t a question. “You’ve been pretending this entire time”.

Midoriya’s expression wanes. His brows pinch into a doleful frown, eyes crossing to tentatively watch you stand and trudge toward his tucked chin, almost losing balance where his collarbones dip and the water suddenly deepens.

Fingers nudged under your thighs to act as a seat. You startle at the sudden elevation; it’s still surreal to feel the ground collapse beneath your feet, your knees collapsing against the pressure. Midoriya brings you up to his face, letting his tail sink into an upright position. Gasp caught in your throat you frantically hang onto the end of his nose. The large mer whistles quietly. Low and forlorn like an apology.

From up here you’re all too aware of up and down— endless in every direction, surrounded by a flat canvas of blue. He’s the only thing you can see for miles. Bottom low caught between your teeth you turn inward, squashing your cheek against him.

“You know I can’t stay here, right?” you tell him. Midoriya listens attentively. You’re close enough to hear the soft slide of lids drawing across his eyes, stained gills venting as he breathes, the waves crashing against his back. You point to the far horizon, “I need to go home, or close to it. Think you can help me one more time, hero?”

You aren’t prepared for the mer to sulk. The lower half of his face slips beneath the water and you’re face to face with a freckled forehead. Looking up at you now, eyes big and round like a puppy, he blows air out from his mouth to create a sad burst of bubbles. You had vastly underestimated his attachment to you; and your own fast-grown affection for him.

But he nods anyway, setting you back on the worn deck and righting his posture. Unfounded guilt squirms in your chest, tightening as you relays the plan in simple terms, knowing that these would probably be your final moments with him.

Get nearer to the shore and fire a flare. That was the plan. He pointed in a specific direction when you asked if he knew where the land was. Unable to understand his complex vocalisations you simply needed to trust he could do it. Easy— the day will darken so the flare will be more visible against the gloaming. You could play the fool and claim the tide brought you in. Most importantly there was no risk of Midoriya being seen and put in danger.

As the sky dims the sun begins to sheath itself below the horizon. The numbness spreading through your limbs at least meant you couldn’t feel the cold.

“We don’t need to get too close,” you kneel over the edge of the bow to speak to him. Hands that held you delicately are now wrapped around the hull, ready to push. “Your kind stays hidden for a reason, right? I don’t want people trying to come after you”.

You consider the gleam in his gaze. Appreciative and amused, as though he found it endearing that you would be worried about him. “That confident, huh?”

Receiving a toothy grin—eyes closing and smiling with him— you find you’re no longer nervous.

Consistently gentle, Midoriya guides the boat. The ocean parts around the oncoming obstruction and leaves behind a long trail of foam. That red network of veins returns, glowing across his upper body as the velocity increases, his powerfully muscled tail working to propel you forward and glinting in the warm evening light.

You call for him to stop when the distant skyline becomes uneven, the familiar bumps and divots of mountains near your port town and the islands surrounding it. The mer brakes abruptly, tall waves crashing up over the deck as your body is thrown backward, narrowly missing the broken mast. You can hear the various gifts he gave you rolling into one another over his frantic stuttered clicks as Midoriya tries to get a look in.

“I’m okay! I’m alive,” barely, you think. There’s a worrisome pain in your rib you can’t let yourself think about. The ground beneath you tips as his fingers come to rest on the boat's edge. You begin to slide on your ass, unceremoniously careening toward him, vertigo flooding your senses.

Midoriya catches you, murmuring at your spluttered curses. Abruptly, you cover his mouth and swallow the acrid bile crawling up your throat, mustering up a tired glare. Heart palpitating, it echoes harshly through your body. The muscles in your legs are heavy like wet sand and your vision doubles, overlaps, and then rights itself.

“Starting to think you like manhandling me,” you croaked teasingly. It’s a testament to Midoriya’s attentiveness that he hasn’t accidentally killed you yet. Though you wouldn’t be surprised if most of your organs had completely rearranged themselves given how you’ve been thrown around in the past few hours.

The playful air dwindles when reality rears it's head. “…I guess this is it, hero”.

There’s that sad sorry sound again. Melancholy bleeds into the atmosphere as silence befalls the two of you. Staring intently at one another, committing faces to memory; kiss curls tucked behind ears, faint sunspots, scales of green and honeydew, the luminescence that belies his true emotions. You wondered what Midoriya saw as he looked back at you. Just a silly lost human.

“Thank you, Midoriya,” your palm cups his cheek, thumb stroking beneath his eye, a touch that probably feels like an itch. He leans into it anyway. “You saved me twice now. I’ll never forget this”.

A mellifluous song thrummed in his throat. You feel the vibrations under your hand and it seeps honeyed and sweet into your bones. Outlined in soft evening light against a dusky sky, Midoriya nuzzles you one last time.

You’re anchored by unexpected grief when he sets you down. The hull rocks as the tide rolls. Water cascades down his scarred forearm as he lifts it up, fist unfurling to reveal a single scale. His scale.

You gape. “You’re giving me this…?”

He suddenly looks painfully bashful you scrambled to take it; a scale still wrought with luminescent colour, alive, still connected to him in ways he may never understand. Having it, holding him. Even after you were home Midoriya would be with you.

Emotion swells within you, struck by the trust you’ve been given. Merfolk remain a mystery for a reason. Human greed knows no bounds and money would be no object if you decided to sell him out.

“Thank you, I—I promise I’ll keep it safe. And you, Midoriya. I won't tell anyone,” you vowed, cradling the scale close.

Shadows widen across the bow as he then rises up ever so slightly. Midoriya dipped his chin. Your eyes reflexively clenched shut at the wet pillowy press of his lips taking up the entire left side of your face. A kiss. Seawater rivulets drop down to your collar, soaking into the fabric. Before you can speak he does it again, lower this time. Mouth pressed to your front, beginning at your chest and ending at your navel. A purr rumbles in his throat. You shudder, thighs clenching as the titillating vibrations reverberate between them.

When Midoriya pulls back his finned ears are vibrating earnestly and his scales flush red. The surface of the water is suddenly displaced and the waves are forced in every direction as he darts away from the boat with a trill, resurfacing a few feet away. “I see how it is. The type to hit and quit, eh?” your voice grows louder, lips twitching into a besotted smile. Egregiously lightheaded and giddy, you yell out, “I’ll miss you, Midoriya! Don’t forget about me!”

Midoriya responds in kind. He waves coyly—understanding more than he lets on—yet remains at a distance until the flare is lit. It arced far into the darkened sky with a quiet hiss, casting a spotlight over your stranded vessel, and only when lights blink in the distance does he disappear from view.

You tuck the scale into your waistband, concealed beneath your shirt. The rescue boat approaches at high speeds. Garish red with a v-shaped hull, cutting through the sea to reach you. There’s a five person squad sidling up at your side, immediately tending to any major injuries and tightly strapping a thick orange life jacket around your upper half.

“What happened?”

“Got caught in the storm last night. Was stranded until the tide brought me in”.

“Do you know your name?” You give it in full along with your birthday. “Are you dizzy? Nauseous?” More than they can imagine.

Concussion, they tell you. Fractures, probably.

“What’s all this?”

“Oh, that…” you turned to gaze at the collection of things Midoriya brought to you throughout the afternoon. “That was there when I woke up here”.

“Strange. Maybe a mer took a liking to ya,” the man, Oda, grins. His mouth is crooked, speaking in a tone meant to be playful.

“What makes you say that?”

He blinks, expression dimming. “Never heard the stories?” You shake your head. “Sailors used to say finding gifts an’ sea stones on board was an omen. Especially the shiny ones. Meant a mer wanted to seduce you”.

Another voice, their name escapes you, interrupts. “Eh? I thought they did that whole singing thing?”

Oda yanks a blanket around your shoulders with more force than necessary as he shoots his crew mate an exasperated glare. “That’s sirens, idiot”.

“What’s the difference?”

You tune out their bickering, acutely aware of all the polished stones in the pile. Of the scale hidden flat to your back. You look to the calm dark surface, throat swelling at the implication. Hand held to your left cheek you feel the plush impression of Midoriya’s lips like a phantom. Accepting his offerings— what had that meant? To him, to you?

The muffled voices come back into focus as Oda rounds on you once more, encouraging you onto the rescue vessel. “C’mon, let’s get’cha home. And don’t stress the big stuff, we’ll tow your boat in”.

You can’t take your eyes off the ocean, aching. The distinct feeling that you have misplaced something incredibly important sits poignantly in the recesses of your mind. It sees you to the dock, strong-armed into an ambulance because your legs have forgotten what solid earth is, and when the doors slam shut to obstruct the view your chest hollows out.

The hour is past midnight and the streets are empty. Miraculously you're mostly unharmed. You make it home with bruising, hairline fractures and a bad concussion. Your body looked a bit like a pollock painting if you squinted, blue and black converging on one another around your skin, vascular threads of purple hemming your ribcage. Painkillers dulled the pain enough that movement was tolerable.

Oda kept his word, decent enough to salvage your things. They are lumped together in a crate hidden in the doorway, an ever present reminder that what happened was real, not a figment of your concussed imagination. The scale remained awkwardly concealed under your shirt. You peel off your clothes, taking it between your hands. Vision adjusted to the darkness, you see a fleeting shimmer passing through the ridges, reflecting on your bedroom walls before dimming.

You climb into bed, plagued by thoughts of Midoriya. His plaintive farewell song, the reverent stars in his eyes whenever you spoke, the affectionate lean into your every touch. You should leave it alone. Let it be. A sane person would allow the memory age naturally and change into a story to recite over sake for years to come. After all, sometimes things just happened to you, like gravity or grief— or being the object of affection for a mer about the size of two school buses.

Scale cuddled to your front, the memory of his mouth laid itself against your sternum. It pins you to the mattress and begin to hum. The notes are almost tangible, echoing through skin, close-lipped and soothing. A final thought bleeds into your consciousness as it slips:

You hope you can find him again.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader

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etherealphosphor · 6 months

Text

Wilting Rose Petals

⟡ Contains: Dottore x Gn!Reader, Sfw, Angst, Dottore has Hanahaki Disease, Mentions of coughing up blood, Mentions of painkillers, Good ending

BIG TW: Dottore is su!c!dal, please refrain from reading this if the content triggers you.

Being the Second of the Fatui Harbingers, Dottore had naturally been a cold and reserved man for most of his working life. Even before joining the Harbingers, he was more or less the same, only interested in his research. To him, conversation was a bore, and small talk was practically torture. Getting his business done while interacting with the least amount of people possible was an ideal day at work for him. In the past, the only people he really talked to were his segments.

However, oddly enough, his entire demeanor shifted when you—his part-time assistant—was around. He would go out of his way to talk to you, completely ignoring his responsibilities for however long he could manage to keep you. Dottore’s affection for you was painfully obvious to everyone who worked in the headquarters, as his mood greatly increased when you walked through the door.

His attitude altered so much when he was in your presence, to the point that if one needed to ask Dottore for a favor, they would wait until after you swung by his office. That was quite a wide-spread tactic in the Fatui Headquarters, and for good reason. Dottore would genuinely consider doing a favor for someone due to the cheery mood you put him in, as long as it was easy enough. However, if they interrupted his time with you, they'd be met with only unreasonableness and an incredibly short fuse.

To Dottore, you were the one thing he treasured in life. In recent years, his research lost its appeal and became awfully boring to him. Day after day, year after year, it was all the same. And for what? Why did any of it matter? What was he even living for anymore? Thoughts like those were normal for him. However, you kept him sane. You were like a helping hand in his time of need. You were the one thing that kept him alive each day.

Dottore’s heart and body yearned for you in ways he couldn’t describe. You were the singular light in his dark and lonely life. Even so, he didn’t want to tell you how he felt, for fear of losing you. Archons, what would he do if you never wanted to talk to him again? If he lost his beacon of hope, he wouldn’t know how to live on. So, instead of pursuing you, Dottore decided it was best to leave you as a fantasy that helped him keep his head above water.

As Dottore was daydreaming of you to distract himself from his mind, one of his segments—Theta—walked into his office.

"Hey Boss, is [Name] going to be here today? I know how much you enjoy their company. You get so gloomy when they aren’t around." Theta said in a playful tone as he leaned on the desk, smirking at Dottore.

Dottore felt a pang of sadness at being reminded of your absence. "[Name] is busy today and likely won’t be present."

"Oh, that’s a shame. You’re all smiles when [Name] walks through the door." Theta laughed.

"I am simply happy to be handing off some tasks to someone else. That’s all." Dottore lied, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Aw, come on. Don’t lie to me! I know you like them." Theta teased.

"I do not." Dottore replied, wearing that same grin that told Theta everything he needed to know.

"So, what is it about them, huh? What is it that’s got the Second Harbinger himself all lovesick?"

Dottore sighed. "..everything."

Theta’s eyes lit up. "Woah, you actually have human emotion? I was starting to doubt it. Man, I gotta tell the others!"

Before Dottore could call him back, Theta had run off to gossip with the other segments. He had always been the same. After Theta left, that happy expression on Dottore’s face faded quickly. He was good at covering up how he felt around other people, putting on a show of confidence for everyone around him. However, his personality completely shifted when he was left alone with only his thoughts to accompany him.

Putting his head in his hands, Dottore tried to calm his mind. Archons, he missed you. It had only been a day since he last saw you, and yet it was still agony to him. He was addicted to every aspect of you; you were his person. His only source of true joy.

How was he supposed to focus on his work if any hope of you coming to visit him was extinguished? If only—against all odds—you'd just walk into his office and give him the energy he needed to keep going.

And, as if his prayers were answered by Celestia itself, you appeared at the door, which was left ajar when Theta had run off.

"Good morning, Dottore!" You greeted him. "I’m sorry for not coming in sooner; as you know, I was busy."

Dottore’s heart fluttered in response. Oh, how happy he was to see you. "No, don’t apologize to me. You’re perfectly fine; everyone is busy on occasion. I assumed you were going to spend the whole day with Pulcinella."

"Well, I expected to originally, but I managed to complete all the tasks assigned to me in quick time. After all, I despise doing work for Pulcinella; I just wanted it to be over." You said.

"Oh? Really? What’s the problem with working for him?" Dottore asked, curious.

"He’s just so set in his ways. If I don’t do what he wants me to do in the exact way he does it, he’ll make me redo the entire thing. Even if it’ll all come out to the same solution! I very much prefer being your assistant, Dottore."

Dottore blushed at the compliment, but since his face was hidden behind his mask, you never noticed. "You do? What’s so much better about the tasks I assign?"

"Well, it’s more about the fact that I actually like you. You don’t criticize my every action, and you’re nice to me." You grinned at him.

"I like you too, [Name]." Dottore replied, before quickly clarifying, "You’re a lovely assistant. Maybe you should ask to work for me full-time."

"Unfortunately, Pulcinella would lose it. He already complains about me spending too much time running errands for you, as opposed to helping out the other harbingers."

"Why should you care what he thinks? If he asks for your assistance and then complains about the way you complete said task, then you are perhaps not the kind of person he is looking for. He should let that go and find someone else instead of berating you."

You considered that for a moment. "You’re right, Dottore. Maybe I should–"

Suddenly, you were cut off by a yell from outside. "[NAME], YOU FORGOT TO FILE THESE PAPERS IN OPPOSITE-ALPHABETICAL ORDER! I ASKED YOU TO FILE THEM FROM Z TO A, NOT A TO Z!"

"Better get back to work, then. We can talk about this later." You sighed before sprinting out of the room. "Coming! I apologize for my error, Pulcinella!"

The moment you left, Dottore was overcome with a strong urge to slam his head into his desk. He felt like a fool; it was so clear that he was begging for you to spend every day with him. He just hoped you hadn’t picked up on his subtle flirting throughout the conversation. After all, he wasn’t exactly good at keeping a straight face when you complimented him—something that could definitely give away how he felt.

'I like you too, [Name].' What was I even thinking when I said that!? Of course, they don’t feel the same things I feel about them. They just enjoy working for me; that’s all they meant by that. But, Archons, it felt good to hear them say that they liked me.

As he inwardly cursed himself, his thoughts began to wander to even more self-deprecating ones. How could someone like you ever harbor the same care that he did for you? What did he even do to deserve your attention? Someday, would you consider him more than just someone you worked for? Was he even worth it? Would you hate him if he confessed?

Now Dottore was stuck between two equally unpleasant options. Either continue his dull and monotonous work or let his brain fill the silence by telling him how unworthy he was. Neither choice was something he particularly wanted, but he knew that his research must be completed for the day.

And so, day after day, he spent most of his time in his office, doing research just to fit the requirements of what was expected of him. Archons, he was so tired of it all. Nothing mattered to him anymore—except for you, maybe.

Each time you walked into his office, his day got significantly better. Unbeknownst to you, Dottore set aside all his work just to talk to you. You had simply assumed he was just so on top of everything that he could spare the time. Dottore had occasionally considered asking you out to a nearby cafe—just as work friends—but he was too worried that you’d take the invite the wrong way.

And so, he held his tongue. Of course, his heart begged for him to just make a move on you, but his brain prevented him from doing so. He knew that if his last reason to live was to be scared away, he’d surely fail to go on. Months went by like this; Dottore desperately longing for your affection.

One day, as Dottore sat at his desk, he suddenly felt the urge to clear his throat—almost like something was blocking his airway. Coughing a couple times, Dottore felt the strange object become dislodged and fall gently into the hand he was using to cover his mouth. Looking down, Dottore spotted a small petal; the shade was barely even pink; one could argue that it was closer to white than anything else.

Met with this odd occurrence, Dottore couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong with him. After all, one doesn’t just start coughing up flowers for no reason. But after taking a minute to think, Dottore couldn’t recall the last time he was around a flower. After all, flowers in Snezhnaya die unless kept inside, and Dottore had none in his office.

Despite his suspicions, Dottore decided to chalk it up to a peculiar circumstance with no further investigation required. However, when he coughed up another petal, he knew that this situation was much more serious. Dottore was very knowledgeable about all of Teyvat’s various illnesses, so it didn’t take much more pondering for him to connect the dots.

Coughing up petals.. no… no. It can’t be. I can’t possibly have contracted Hanahaki Disease. There’s absolutely no way.

Dottore immediately began pulling books on various types of illnesses off of the shelves in his office, flipping through them, hoping to find something—anything—on the specific ailment.

After about a minute, he found exactly the page he was looking for in one of the books. Quickly, he read through the section on possible cures. There was no chance he was going to tell you of the affection he secretly held for you. And even less likely, have you reciprocate his feelings? Impossible. Simply impossible.

Confessing… confessing… That won’t do—not at all. Even if I did decide to—which I heavily doubt—the likelihood of [Name] sharing my affection.. I don’t want to think about it. It’s impossible. Dottore thought, skimming through the text.

As Dottore continued to read, he came to a realization. His options were either to somehow woo you into loving him or to hold his tongue and die in the process.

When he realized these were his two options, Dottore wasn’t exactly sure how to feel. Any normal person wouldn’t wait for the disease to end them and would instead confess to their person, no? However, Dottore wasn’t the average man. He was tired of work—or, to be more precise, he was tired of living. When he really thought about it, what he wanted most was for it all to end. To eternally sleep in silence and in peace. No more responsibilities, and no more pain. This disease was his way out.

And so, he decided to accept his fate. He would leave the world behind due to his disease, and he wouldn’t look back. Not for anyone; not even you.

More time passed, and each day, Dottore coughed up flower petals more frequently. He observed that the color of the petals was gradually getting darker each time they appeared. However, he wasn’t that concerned. After all, he would finally have a chance to escape the constant cycle of his meaningless life. He was tired of holding on by a thread and a hopeless fantasy; all he really wanted now was to rest.

Even if Dottore wasn’t worried about himself, you certainly were. Even with Pulcinella constantly requesting your help, you still interacted with Dottore on occasion. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly much, but it was still enough to get a good sense of where Dottore was in terms of health. You had noticed his posture had gotten worse, and so had his general demeanor. Before, he used to straighten up when you walked into his office and would greet you with a smile. However, nowadays, he always seemed exhausted and burnt out.

What especially worried you was the strange coughing you occasionally heard from him, which sounded as if he was quite ill. You wished to get to the bottom of what was going on with him, but you didn’t want to inquire about things that weren’t your business.

You knew that if Dottore was suffering from an ailment, he would simply take the measures needed to cure himself. So why exactly did he still seem so sick? Was the treatment not working? Or was it just not taking effect yet? The only other possibility you could think of was that his sickness could not be easily treated. You weren’t sure what it could be, so you tried to calm your mind by assuring yourself that you were likely overthinking. Dottore would get over it in a couple weeks, right?

However, little did you know, that cough of his could very well be the end of him.

One day, as Dottore was strolling through the headquarters’ hallways, he stopped by a window to look out at the falling snow. He never really noticed the beauty of it until now—not until there was a chance he’d never get to see it again. Due to his focus being elsewhere, he didn’t notice Delta—another one of his segments—behind him until he spoke up.

"Something is wrong with you, Boss." Delta said evenly; it wasn’t a question.

Not bothering to turn around, Dottore replied calmly, "Nothing is wrong with me. Why would you think that, Delta?"

"Do you really think you can assure me just by denying my suspicions? First of all, you’ve been coughing for months; something is clearly up with your health, both physical and mental. Secondly, I saw the pages you marked in that book you left on your desk. Hanahaki, was it? Am I correct in thinking that this matter has something to do with [Name]? You’re quite fond of them, after all."

"You shouldn’t be getting involved in other people’s problems, Delta. You should know better than that." Dottore spoke in a cold tone.

"No, you should know better! You’ve always been like this—awfully stubborn. You’re mistreating yourself, Boss! I can’t just stand by and watch it happen. I’m getting involved in your problems because you won’t help yourself!" Delta raised his voice.

"When have you ever had control over my actions? You’re merely my segment; I am the one with power over you, not the other way around. I’d advise you to get your nose out of my business. It is my choice and mine alone whether or not I get help." Dottore walked away from Delta without another word.

Along with Dottore’s fading footsteps, Delta could hear him coughing as he left. He was so frustrated; why couldn’t Dottore just accept his aid? Why did he have to be so stubborn as to refuse to confess to you, even if it meant the death of him? Dottore of all people should have known that there was no alternative cure for Hanahaki Disease. So what in the world were his motives?

Delta was thoroughly confused by the man’s behavior. However, Dottore had his eyes on one goal and one goal alone: ending his miserable life. Absolutely nothing could get in his way. Archons, how he wished for an opportunity like this. All he had to do was wait until his body finally gave out, and then all would be still.

As more weeks passed, Dottore’s Hanahaki Disease steadily got worse. His throat had begun to feel sore, and it was quite painful to speak. However, through the pain, his hope was restored. His disease had gotten to the later stages; his life was coming to an end at last.

One evening, as Dottore was working on his soulless research, Delta came in to check on his condition.

"Boss? Is everything going okay?"

Dottore beckoned for him to come closer, not saying a word. The only noise that could be heard was his slight coughing as some rouge-colored petals fell from his mouth. Once Delta was close enough, Dottore wrote the names of some painkillers on a slip of paper and handed it to him.

Taking the paper, Delta stared down at the man before him. "What do you want me to do with this? Do you need me to get you these pills from your lab?"

Dottore simply nodded.

"Boss, painkillers won’t make your Hanahaki Disease go away. You can’t just keep ignoring it! You are hurting for a reason; your body needs help. The other segments and I are all worried for you; even [Name] is uneasy. You know, they miss you a lot, Dottore. We all do."

At the mention of your name, Dottore covered his ears, refusing to listen any further. He was determined to calm the beating in his heart that was triggered by Delta mentioning your concern for him. He couldn’t let his feelings for you interfere with his plans.

Eventually, Delta gave up trying to reason with him and went off to retrieve the medicine. After all, he wasn’t going to make Dottore suffer more than the man always was. However, there and then, Delta decided that he needed to tell you what was going on. He had wanted to inform you for a while, but felt guilty about breaking Dottore’s trust. But now, in his heart, he knew it was more important to save him.

Once Delta had acquired the medicine, he came back to find Dottore coughing up more petals than normal. He set down a couple pill bottles on Dottore’s desk, as well as a glass of water for him to swallow them with.

Archons, he just gets worse and worse every day. Delta thought, before bidding him farewell and closing the door to his office.

Just before Dottore was about to take his medication, he had another bout of coughing. The glass of water fell to the floor and shattered as Dottore doubled over in pain. This time, it felt absolutely excruciating, and the magenta-colored petals that fell to his desk were stained with his blood.

Dottore felt that crimson liquid spill from his mouth and drip onto the desk. He knew at this point that he was really, truly dying. However, even so, he felt oddly at peace. His years of labor would finally come to an end. His life would come to an end.

He had to pinch himself just to get the pills down, as the pain of swallowing was making his eyes sting. His own blood was enough for him to take the medication with, as the glass of water was no longer an option. All he had to do was endure half an hour of this torture before his throat would go numb.

Just as Dottore was heading to his private chambers to relax a bit as he waited for the pain to cease, he overheard Delta speaking to someone.

Delta was frantically trying to tell you something. "[Name], I have some extremely important information that you need to know about. It’s concerning Dottore and why he hasn’t been his usual self. He has—"

Just as Delta was about to reveal his secret, Dottore grabbed his neck, pulling him away from you.

Through the pain, Dottore managed to say, "That information isn’t for you to share as you please, Delta."

Feeling a hand on his neck, Delta went silent. Dottore wasn’t choking him, but this action was enough to stop him from telling you about the man’s disease.

Dottore dragged Delta away, leaving you alone to ponder what in the world was so important that Dottore had to threaten Delta just so he wouldn’t say it? Meanwhile, Dottore spoke quietly to Delta in an empty hallway.

"Delta. I don’t want to have to do this, as you’re the segment I trust the most. Zeta is too mysterious, Epsilon is too naive, Theta doesn’t take anything seriously, and Psi is never here. That is why I am reluctant to make a decision about your future; you are making things hard for me." Dottore spoke, enduring the pain speaking caused to his throat that had yet to fade.

"What are you talking about, Boss? What decision?" Delta nervously asked him.

"If this continues, I may have to send you away to a different nation, somewhere far away, where you cannot tamper with my plans."

"Oh really? You want to send me away? And what plans? What plans have you ever had!? Do you really intend to pass away just because you don’t want to tell [Name] that you love them!?" Delta yelled at Dottore.

"This is exactly what I mean. You get too involved with other people’s worries." Dottore spoke coldly.

"I’m loyal to you! That’s what this is, Boss! Loyalty! I want to save your life above all else, don’t you see!?"

Dottore sighed. "Yes, I see that, Delta. However, my orders are for you to stand back."

Now, Delta was extremely frustrated with him. "I care about you! I can’t just watch you perish! Boss, it’s almost as if you want to die!"

"MAYBE I DO!" Dottore snapped. "EVER THOUGHT ABOUT THAT, DELTA!? HAS ANYONE EVER CONSIDERED THAT!?"

Time seemed to stop.

"I—Boss? What?"

Regretting his words, Dottore quickly walked away from him, heading to his private chambers. "Forget it, Delta. It doesn’t matter."

"No—wait—this is serious. Boss? Boss, are you—" Delta tried to go after Dottore, but the man had already locked himself in his room.

"Please, leave me alone." Dottore said from behind the locked door.

Dottore fell onto his bed, exhausted. Archons, it hurt for him to speak. And yelling on top of that? He was surprised that it only hurt a medium amount, and didn't feel like his throat was being ripped open. He could feel blood dripping onto his bedsheets; he’d have to clean it up later. Now all he could do was ignore Delta’s desperate pleas for him to come out as he waited for the painkillers to kick in.

Meanwhile, you were absolutely shocked. Curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you had eavesdropped on their argument. All this new information had hit you like a truck. You had no clue that Dottore felt the way he did.

Dottore is dying from.. Hanahaki Disease? What is that? He wants to die? He.. loves me..? Archons, I’m so confused.. You thought, before running off to the library stationed in the Fatui Headquarters.

You were certain to find something on diseases in there, as it contained shelf after shelf of informational books on every topic under the sun.

As you rushed through the doors, the librarian slowly looked up at you. "Need something, honey? You look like you’re in a hurry."

"Yes, I do need help." You said, out of breath. "D-do you have anything on Hanahaki Disease?"

"Aw, someone’s lovesick, huh? What a shame; all you can do is hope they like you back." The woman said lazily, typing something up on her computer. "Well, we do have a couple books containing some information on that illness. Follow me, honey."

"I–the book is for.. a friend." You clarified.

"Mhm, that’s what they all say. Just make sure you return the book before you die; it’s such a hassle to go looking for them." The librarian replied as she led you over to a shelf.

"I’m not dying, ma’am."

"Sure you’re not, honey. Denial is all you have left, I suppose."

The woman began to pull a couple heavy books off the shelf, handing them to you. You nearly fell over due to the weight in your arms.

"Ma’am, I think I’ll be okay with these for now. Thank you." You said, nearly about to tip over.

"Good for you; have fun. Or don’t. I don’t really care. I’ll be at my desk if you need anything." The librarian walked away, leaving you to do your research.

You skimmed through the first one of the thick books, looking for a section on Hanahaki Disease. Once you found it, you thoroughly read through the entire text.

Unrequited love.. You could feel your heart beating quicker. Of course, you held very tender emotions towards Dottore, but you were too afraid to say anything before. Now was not the time to be getting butterflies over him—he was in serious danger.

You now knew you were the key to saving him. However, you were lost on what to do. Dottore had himself locked in his room and wouldn’t even listen to his most trustworthy segment, Delta. If you pushed him, Dottore would only hide away further. And then you’d truly never get the chance to save him.

You’d need to lure him out somehow, wouldn’t you? But how would you accomplish that? You were still pondering that as you walked out of the library, awkwardly carrying one of the giant books. As you headed towards your room to give yourself time to ponder, you overheard Delta pleading with Dottore.

"Boss, we can talk about this, okay? It doesn’t have to be this way. If you just let me help, things can get better. Please don’t give up like this."

Still hiding behind that locked door, Dottore responded, "I don’t need your help, Delta. Just leave. I want to sleep."

"No, Boss. I’m not leaving. You need help; you just don’t know how to accept it. I’m staying out here until you’re ready."

Your heart lurched painfully at that. What in the world would you do? You weren’t sure exactly how far along the disease had gotten, but he was still talking in clear sentences, which was a good sign that he wasn’t on his death bed yet. Still, when you thought back, his cough had started quite a long time ago, so he was likely in the latest stages. At best, he had maybe a week left. You didn’t want to assume he’d hold on for much longer, so you knew that you needed to act fast. You’d try to save him in the morning if he came out of his room.

Meanwhile, Dottore was just trying to fall asleep. Archons, his body was so exhausted. Delta hadn’t stopped begging him to come out and likely wouldn’t for a while. Dottore’s eyelids began to feel heavy, and he could sense himself drifting off. He wasn’t even quite sure if he’d see the next day; he really hoped he wouldn’t. Then his pathetic and miserable life would finally come to an end.

However, to Dottore’s great disappointment, he did wake up the next day. His body felt weak and oddly warm, and he longed to go outside in the snow to cool off. When he opened his door, he found that Delta had spent the night curled up outside of it.

Dottore carefully stepped over his sleeping body and began heading towards a door to the outside. That particular exit to the Fatui Headquarters wasn’t well known and therefore didn’t warrant being guarded. It was almost too good to be true, as the last thing Dottore wanted was for his plans to be discovered by anyone else. He didn’t want anyone’s help.

Once Dottore reached the exit, he stumbled outside, slowly making his way out into the snow. He wasn’t wearing the proper layers, just a collared shirt and pants, but he still felt too warm. The falling snowflakes melted on his skin, cooling him down just a bit. It still wasn’t enough for him.

When he was about ten yards into the snow, he began to have another coughing fit. He was in pure agony this time, as he had forgotten to take his pain medication that morning. He fell to his knees as blood poured from his mouth, leaving a stark contrast in the snow. Along with his blood, tears flowed down his face. Archons, the pain was unbearable. Pure red petals were scattered all around him, a sign that his disease had gotten to its worst stage.

Dottore didn’t even have the energy to stay balanced, and he fell to his side. Blood still dripped from his mouth as he lay in the snow and let the cold embrace his feverish body. All he could think of was that he could finally rest—forever this time. Just before his eyes began to shut, he caught sight of a figure running towards him, yelling his name.

Oh. It’s [Name]. At least they’ll be the last thing I see before I die.

When you reached him, you dropped to your knees beside him and removed the mask from his face.

"Oh no.. no.. please be okay.. please be alive.." You said frantically.

Dottore looked up at you as you did so, those crimson eyes of his matching the blood that was still dripping from his mouth. Those eyes that were wet with tears that had yet to fall. Likewise, you could feel your own tears dripping down your face.

"Dottore.. please don’t leave me. I love you; I always have. Just hang on for me, okay?" You spoke softly to him, gently stroking his cheek as you wiped away his tears.

Because of your heartfelt words, Dottore’s wretched curse was broken. However, at that point, Dottore was too weak to care that his attempt had failed. All that he cared about was the fact that you shared his feelings. His aching heart had seemingly been revived. You held Dottore closer, embracing him as you cried into his shoulder.

"Please, Dottore. Don’t try anything like this ever again. I’m going to get you the help you need; please just keep holding on."

Dottore had felt as though his existence was worthless, but now he was comforted knowing that it meant something to you. You loved him. That alone gave it purpose. Archons, it felt like a dream. His one reason to keep going had saved his life yet again.

Slowly, Dottore began to speak, "[Name].. I—I love you too.."

You smiled at him, tears still streaming down your face. Gently, you pressed your lips to his, your kiss as soft as a feather. It was at that moment that Dottore truly realized that he would no longer have to struggle alone. You’d be there for him every step of the way to recovery.

His life was finally worth something again.

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deathbecomesthem · 1 month

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*A blurb about getting Eddie sick, and how dramatic I imagine he'd be about it.

~800 Words - Established relationship. GN!Reader x Boyfriend!Eddie Munson

You’d warned him repeatedly. The risks were obvious, but he simply refused to listen to you. He stubbornly shook his head and kissed your sweaty brow. He wiped your running nose. He brought you tea. He warmed up cans of Campbell’s condensed chicken and stars soup. He laid in your bed with you to watch movies that were the soundtrack of your fever dreams.

He’d said, “it’s worth the risk, Sweetheart. What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let you suffer alone?” while you whined through the painful ice pick headaches that accompanied the virus that ran rampant through your body. He only smiled and insisted it was fine. That he wouldn’t be scared off by a little bit of mucus.

“I think I’ll survive. I’m here to make sure you get better as fast as possible. Can’t have you missing a Corroded Coffin’s show, can we?”

—

You went to work this morning feeling about 85% better than you had over the weekend, and you happily accept that. The headaches have subsided, even if your nose is still raw from blowing. It could be worse. It was worse. You vaguely recollect worrying that you were having some sort of a stroke when the headaches got really bad. You were lucky to have had Eddie. Without him, you might have completely forgotten to drink water and go to the bathroom.

You try not to think about how you looked, hair in a rat’s nest on the top of your head and skin oily with sweat. You’re just happy to have made it back to work feeling relatively human. You’ll have to make sure to get him something nice for being such a good friend. A good boyfriend, you remind yourself. A new label to your relationship, one that seems so bizarre and so natural. Maybe you’ll try to sneak his vest away to sew on the small pile of patches he has sitting on the corner of his dresser. That would be no easy thing, he rarely goes without it for more than a few hours at a time. You put a pin in that idea and stick it up on the bulletin board inside your mind. Who knows, maybe you’ll find a way.

Right now, you’re heading into his trailer. It’s Tuesday, Corroded Coffin night. You like to cook with him before heading to The Hideout to meet the guys. You’re thinking about the meatball subs you have for tonight’s menu. You plan to make enough for the other band members, it would be easy enough to wrap them up in foil and hand deliver them at the bar. Nothing is more rewarding than feeding young men, they are so grateful.

You swing the door open and find the trailer… quiet. Silent, actually. The lights are all off, which is strange for this time of day. Maybe Eddie’s taking a nap. You drop your keys on the small end table just inside the door when you hear it. A jolt of pain, regret, and resignation zips through you.

A hacking, wet cough from the end of the hallway. And then a moan. You sigh, kick off your shoes, and head into the kitchen. You put the kettle on. You open the cupboard and look for the cold medicine. You set a can of chicken and stars under the can opener on the counter. You fill up a glass of water, and make your way down the hallway.

“What have I done to deserve this fate,” Eddie’s voice can be heard through the crack in his door before you hook your toe on the fiberglass to pull it open. “I’m too young and attractive to die in such an ignoble way.”

“Eddie, are you feeling sick?” You sit on the edge of his bed, and set the glass of water on the bedside table. You feel the heat from his forehead before the back of your hand even makes contact. You know what he’s in for over the next 24 hours, and you wish you could turn back the clock and make him leave your apartment when you were sick.

“Sweetheart? Is that you?” Eddie’s eyes don’t open. He just turns his face to the sound of your voice.

“I told you this would happen. Sit up, I know, I know, but you need to drink water, even if your head hurts.” You tip the cup until water breaches his lips. He greedily sucks down half the glass. “I’m going to take care of you, like you took care of me.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I’m going to make it. This is going to be the end of me.” Eddie’s dramatics would be funny if it weren’t for the way his teeth chattered through his words. “I think it’s the plague.”

“Oh, the plague? That sounds bad. I figured it was the flu that I had a few days ago. I guess chicken and stars won’t help.” You tease. Just a little. His left eye opens a crack, bloodshot and glassy.

“It might help. Warm ginger ale is supposed to be really good for the plague. Like, a magic potion. It’s the least you could do for bringing this illness to my household.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson blurb

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jarofstyles · 7 months

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JAROFSTYLES FICTOBER DAY 1- "So Pretty... Yet So Deadly"

Fictober prompts

Patreon

Warnings- creepyish, mention of toxic/poisonous things

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Y/N twirled the flower around her hand, the glove covering it prohibiting the feeling of powdery soft petals. She had been unsure why this particular client kept a section of the garden blocked off from the rest of the blooms, but it was evident now.

They were toxic.

It was so unassuming. If there had been no signage and Y/N without years of experience, one could assume they were normal plants. Some bushes even had round, juicy little red berries, temptation for anyone to grab a handful for a snack- but it would be too late when they finished it up, looking to see a blanket of fallen berries without a bite taken from them. The toxins would be at work once they’d realized no animal would dare to take a nibble.

The particular flower in her hand had midnight blue petals. They almost shimmered, an elaborate distraction for anyone while the powdery substance infiltrating the skin to cause an unbearable rash. Bubbling skin once it took effect, and fatal to the body if the flower was ingested. Y/N had to wonder why someone would have a garden section with the most toxic plants she had ever heard of, but her job was to care for the whole thing. A new member to the estate, she knew little about its owner other than he traveled frequently and probably wouldn’t see her much.

Her portable speaker was quietly drolling out the music of her ‘fun fall festivities’ playlist as she pruned the leaves, spoke to the plants and watered accordingly. “It isn't your fault that you’re so deadly.” She whispered to them. “You had to adjust, you didn’t start out that way. You built up your defenses in order to keep from being eaten. I understand.” Her shears were put down as she wiped away a bit of sweat. “But you’re so pretty, so I can understand why things still get tempted.”

“I agree.” A darker voice made her jump, spinning around. “So pretty… but so deadly.”

A man blocked the sunlight out, his hair pushed out of his face and his outfit far too full coverage for the early fall weather. It was still 75 out today, a longer heat a blessing to most. The blazer was buttoned and the only skin seeming to be showing was his face and hands. The turtleneck his his own and sunglasses kept his eyes from being seen, but from the little she could see? He was attractive. Attractive and intimidating.

“They are.” Y/N agreed, taking a sip of her water bottle. Something in her brain was misfiring and telling her to run, but he hadn’t done anything wrong. “Do you know a lot about them?”

This certainly wasn’t another gardner, but maybe he oversaw the estate.

“I do, yes.” He nodded, hands flexing around the wood that kept the plants separated. “They’re mine. You seem to know what you’re doing, which is a relief. A lot of people don’t know a think about these and the safety. You’re wearing gloves, so you’ve got a brain.” A wry smile made her shift, unsure if it was a compliment or what.. What? His plants? Did that mean this was her boss?

“I-I did a special unit on poisonous plants in school.” She laughed uneasily, feeling the power of the man. He was standing tall and she was on her knees on her weeding mat, and this was her boss… It all felt a bit odd. “So I do know most.”

His gaze was unnerving, knowing he was staring and not able to see his eyes. The man wasn’t afraid of uncomfortable silences. There was a good minute where she felt unable to speak, like someone was hearing her thoughts in her brain and she couldn’t open her mouth- but as soon as the discomfort started, it stopped. A deep inhale made her lean back, blinking up at him.

“Good. I think that these plants mean a lot. Everyone assumes the monsters are obvious. Ugly, unbearable, unsightly, there would be no way they’re appealing. But in reality, the scariest things for a human mind to comprehend lay right in front of them. They’re in power and they’ve no idea because they’ve been trained to see everything but the most obvious threat. The beautiful, the powerful, the ones who shimmer in the light. Humans will even seek them out on that alone.” The man almost laughed, flashing a smile before closing his lips. “Just remember that, Y/N. Be aware of the dangers that lie in beautiful things. I was reminded of that just today.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #jarofstyles fictober 23 #jarofstyles fictober #fictober #Harry styles angst #Harry angst #Harry styles Halloween

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darklinsblog · 2 years

Text

Insecurities | Sandman Imagine

Summary: Y/N’s nightmare seems to open conversation to a sensitive topic.

Pairing: Morpheus x Human! Reader

Requested: Yes

The Lord of Dreams understood better than anyone the importance of nightmares, but watching the nightmare of his lover Y/N send shivers down his spine.

He wasn’t supposed to interfere, after all he was a mere observer, but he almost lost it as he found himself staring at you, a proxy of him standing in front of you.

His proxy went on saying how he didn’t love you anymore, he wanted nothing to do with you and he, in fact was utterly disgusted at the mere thought of you.

Your fists were clenched at your sides, even through the pouring rain he could see your irritated eyes, it was obvious you were crying even as they mixed in with the rain.

Your voice was trembling and even then you were screaming in his proxy’s face, demanding an explanation for all of this. But the proxy remained awfully still, looking down at you blankly.

The proxy was unfazed by your emotions, so much so that he simply turned around and walked away, ignoring completely your piercing, desperate screams, calling out for him.

Until you were standing completely alone in the pouring rain, with a broken heart.

As the nightmare came to its end Morpheus took his time to fully grasp his mind around the images he saw, your screams were engraved in his ears.

That nightmare could not be any farther from reality, Morpheus loved you dearly, he was head over heels for you and he did not plan on leaving you anytime soon.

So, he was invaded by crippling worry and anxiety. Had he failed to demonstrate his love to you?

Did he ever do anything subconsciously to make you feel insecure or doubt his true feelings?

That were things only you had the answers to and he wouldn’t wait another second.

When he knocked on the door, you responded within seconds and he looked at you, by the way you avoided his gaze it was obvious you were aware Morpheus had witnessed your fear.

He grabbed his arm around your waist, crashing your body with his, he placed two fingers under your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Have I made you feel unappreciated, my love?” He sincerely asked, letting out his own fear, your gazed softened as you shook your head lightly.

“I’m afraid of all this… it isn’t that I feel neglected it’s just the fact everything seems more fragile, I’m human and you’re this entity. It is a lot to take in”

He could understand that, being with Morpheus was undoubtedly endangering and difficult to navigate for his nature and his family, he could sympathize on how you would feel minuscule in the middle of this.

“It is, but you must know you are the one I love, your humanity is one of the many things I adore and I plan to love you till the end of time and beyond” you smiled, Morpheus kissed you softly, he was in love with a human, and while that could be conflicting, he did not care.

You were the only one he wanted, against all odds.

#the sandman comics #sandman imagine #sandman netflix #dream of the endless #morpheus dream #sandman x reader #tom sturridge x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus sandman #sandman shitpost #dream of the endless x reader #tom sturridge #sandman x y/n #morpheus

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silentglassbreak · 3 months

Text

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Please don’t hate me…but it’s gonna get worse. 😬

Warnings: Nothing crazy, just a lot of wanting to rip your own hair out.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86

Part 3 - Drowning

One thing I’ve always prided myself on, is my innate ability to avoid an issue as long as humanly possible. Maybe that’s not a good thing? Maybe it’s just delaying an inevitable issue? That being said, in this particular situation, my problem was a person, and her name was Rachel.

So, naturally, I was avoiding her like the mother fucking plague.

I’m only a human, and a man, at that. I am not blind, I see the issue at hand. I’m attracted to her. And that’s a fucking problem. I could go down the list of reasons why that is a problem, and I have, hundreds of times, over the last three days. However, I decided very quickly after our last encounter that the best possible option was to keep a wide enough distance, not be obvious about it, and survive until I made it back to California and in the arms of the only person I know can make the problem disappear.

I had this plan, and although, with all of my certainty, I knew that it’s not the best one, to see Mileena after the show in San Diego, and have some very serious PDA in front of everyone.

Now, that wasn’t out of the norm for Leena and I, as it was pretty clear to everyone that we were wild for each other. So badly that the other members of our group were sometimes uncomfortable by it.

Then, once I had Mileena to myself, before I allowed anything fun to happen, I would tell her.

I would tell her about Rachel; my giving her a ride home, her answering the door nearly naked, inviting me in to her room.

Might leave out the part where I jerked off to her face, and body, and black boy shorts that barely covered her.

That was what I would take to my grave.

So, imagine my chagrin when Rachel spent the three days following the excursion trying to fucking corner me.

It started with a text I woke up to.

Rachel: Noah…can we talk?

Absolutely not.

The next text came once we were on the bus, and I was safely locked into my bunk.

Rachel: Are you asleep?

Yup.

Then, once we made it to the venue in Atlantic City, and were finishing up the M&G, the next one came.

Rachel: Noah, I really need to talk to you before the show. It’s important.

I sent Nick to go find her, to see if it was a tech issue. I hardly felt like I could handle that again, with all of this other nonsense swirling around in my head. It wasn’t, and she asked where I was.

Nick, none the wiser, sent her to the green room. When I saw the door open, a flash of blonde hair behind it, I slipped into the bathroom.

I heard her sigh heavily, and then the next text came in. This one gave me pause.

Rachel: Well, clearly you’re avoiding me, so I guess I’ll just text you. I just wanted to tell you that I am so fucking sorry. I wish I could say I don’t know what came over me, but I do. Alcohol and absolute insanity. Noah, please believe me when I tell you that I know you are in a relationship, and respect the hell out of that. What happened last night will never happen again. I just don’t want this to ruin our friendship or work relationship. Hopefully this text makes you open to talking after the show.

By this time, I had long since turned my read receipts off, and just stared at the message.

I almost replied. Almost. But, my sane mind taking over, slipped my phone back into my pocket instead.

We didn’t stay at a hotel. Rather, we showered at the venue, and were back on the road within two hours after the show had ended. We had an painfully long drive back to San Diego, so we had to get moving fast.

I laid in my bunk, headphones blasting Sleep Token’s latest album, and was feverishly texting Leena.

I had hoped she hadn’t picked up on my extra-neediness since the night prior, and just chalked it up to me being homesick.

Leena: Addie is walking more. She took twelve straight steps today without falling down!

Me: Oh FUCK YEAH. My little fucking rockstar!

Leena: She misses you so much.

Me: I miss her too. I miss you both more than life itself. But after SD, I’m done touring for at least six months. Probably will never tour again so I don’t miss you guys so much.

Leena: Oh you’re so cute when you lie.

I couldn’t tell if the text was cold or not?

Me: I’m serious. I can’t do this shit without you guys. I’m missing so many of Addie’s milestones.

Leena: We’ll see baby. And I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got to get some sleep. I love you, Noah.

Me: I love you more, Leena.

Leena: Promise?

Me: Always.

I had been catching up on the newest season of Stranger Things when I noticed the bus was quiet. I checked the time and saw it was nearly 3AM. I heard and felt no movement about the hallway, so I carefully slid my bunk door open, and hopped out. I was dying for some water and had to pee something fierce.

I froze coming to the end of the hall, noticing a blue light emitting from the couch in the front. I realized quickly it was Folio, and took a relieving breath. I approached him, but he didn’t acknowledge me.

“Hey, late night?” He was staring at his laptop screen, clicking away at the keys.

“Mmm.” Was the only response I received.

I decided disturbing him was probably not the best idea, so I slipped into the bathroom silently. When I stepped back into the hall, he was no longer seated, and was standing at the fridge with the door open.

“I think Nick ate my fucking lunchable.”

I snorted, reaching in next to him for a water bottle. “Probably.”

I cracked the cap and took a long pull. Folio eventually closed the door with a huff, and looked directly at me.

“So,” His eyes were oddly serious, not something I see much in Nick Folio. I raised an eyebrow.

“So?”

“Are you and Rachel just not speaking anymore, or…?”

I felt my heart drop down into my feet, my stomach simultaneously wrapping in a tight knot.

“What do you mean?” I kept myself cool.

“Well, she’s been asking for you, and we keep sending her your way, but she somehow never seems to find you?” His voice had a deadly evenness to it that made my skin crawl. Unless he lived in my brain, what the fuck could he possibly know?

“Well, it was a busy day.” I took another swig of my water to hopefully hide my uneasiness.

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? I guess.”

I nodded, hoping that was the end of it. Until he spoke again.

“You guys seemed friendly at the club the other night.”

That was it. Put a bullet between my fucking eyes.

Despite all of my efforts to hide the absolute terror I felt, I knew instantly that it was showing through. He raised his brows in response.

I tried to answer, but choked a little on the residual water in my mouth. I cleared my throat and closed the bottle.

“I just gave her a ride, dude.”

Nick eyed me from head to toe, not buying it.

“Yeah? Cause she seemed real sure about what was going to go down that night. Then you disappeared for an hour.”

My eyes blasted open. “What did you just say?”

Folio tossed his hands up in defense to my sharp tone. “Listen man, I’m no snitch. Not saying I’m going to go crying to Leena about it, but you may not want to shit where you sleep - you get me?”

My jaw had hit the floor, broken through the bottom of the bus, and was tearing along the Indiana asphalt beneath us,

“Folio, you’ve fucking lost it, dude!” He shook his head in amusement, clearly not believing me. “Nothing fucking happened with Rachel! I gave her a fucking ride. That’s it!”

My voice rose, so I instantly brought it back down, not wanting to alert the six other people sleeping.

He nodded then, his body language changing slightly. “Yeah?” He put his hand out to me, fist pushed forward. “On God?”

I bumped his fist. “On God, Buddha, Odin, or whatever other deity. Nothing fucking happened.”

He sighed. “Okay. I believe you dude.” I sighed in relief. “But Noah?” I glanced back up at his face. “If you’re telling the truth, then you should know, she said some pretty graphic shit about you at the bar. Claiming she had you wrapped around her finger, and she could get you into bed. Even with Mileena in the picture.” He glanced knowingly down the bus hallway.

“Watch out for that, dude. I thought Rachel was cool. I might’ve even had a thing for her. But hearing the way she talked about you? Something ain’t right.”

The salty, warm air of San Diego wrapped its arms around us as we stepped off of the bus at the hotel. It was refreshing, being so close to the finish line. Aside from my own bout of homesickness, I could see the guys were exhausted, and we were all ready for the post-tour coma, and being in the comfort of our own homes.

The hotel check-in process was tedious. Rachel stood at the counter, handing out keys as the attendant handed them to her.

“Nick.” He snatched his and walked back over to where I stood, waiting. “Folio.”

He took his card without looking at her. Something told me he was a little more than salty about this entire debacle.

“Jolly.” Only one left. “And, Noah.”

When my fingers took the key, her head whipped over and her eyes pierced up at me. I averted my gaze, plucking the card out of her hand, and intended to head to my room immediately.

“Hey! Who let these misfits in here?!”

Everyone’s heads whipped around, looking for the source of the voice. Her eyes were the first thing I caught, a day-breaking smile tearing across my face.

Mileena and Laura were walking through the lobby, waving at us. As soon as Mileena saw me, she broke out in a run. She always did when we were away for so long. It was one of her hopeless romantic traits that I indulged in at every opportunity.

I immediately unshouldered my backpack and began jogging toward her. Her body slammed into mine with only a force she could accomplish. My arms instinctively wrapped around her, securing her right into place against my chest.

I immediately got a face full of her midnight black hair, the scent invading my senses. She smelled like rose hips, fresh brewed coffee, Addison, and home. An overwhelming sense of ease washed over my skin.

Jesus fucking Christ, I love this girl.

She pulled herself back far enough to press her face against mine, her lips mashing mine in a frantic attempt to get as close as possible. My own fought back, nipping her bottom lip, before hers turned up into a smile.

“Thank fuck. I have been dying.” I croaked out.

Setting her feet on the ground, her arms snaked around my midsection, between the lapels of my jacket, burying the side of her face into my chest.

“Not as bad as I have.” Her words were a mumble.

“Look, we get it. You love each other. All star-crossed and shit.” We turned to look at Folio, who was smirking. “But do the rest of us get any love?”

She pulled away from me then, quickly wrapping Folio in an airtight hug. “Ah, I missed you too, punk.”

He chuckled at her and let her go. She made her rounds, even giving Rachel a one-armed embrace, which is when I noticed the look of humiliation on her freckled-face. Standing against Leena, my brain seemed to snap right back into place.

There was no contest. Mileena was stunning. Drop fucking dead mouthwatering. Rachel was…not.

After she made her way back over to me, I slung an arm easily over her shoulders, pulling her close enough to press a soft kiss on the top of her head.

“I thought you guys weren’t coming until tonight?” Nick was standing questionably close to Laura, which caught my eye immediately.

The latter shrugged, and pointed to Leena. “She showed up at my house at 9AM, insisting we leave sooner.”

“Best decision, honestly.” Was all I added.

We all began our trek toward the elevators, stepping in together. My room was on the second floor, so Leena and I stood at the front.

“Guys, I, uh, get you haven’t seen each other in three months, but,” Jolly’s voice was awkward. “we’ve only got like an hour until we have to head to the venue for sound check.”

The doors opened, and I nodded to my friend, acknowledging him. I then turned my head back to my girl, now standing outside the elevator, and flashed her a devilish grin.

“You better fucking run.”

Mileena has this way of moaning, and I can’t exactly describe how this is even possible, that sends a legitimate shiver up my spine. It’s chemical, the way her voice raises pitch and cracks at the end. How sometimes it’s my name rolling off her tongue, or just an incomprehensible noise, that makes me coil up and breath ragged. She has me by my fucking hair, and shows no signs of letting up.

Her eyes are always so wet, pleasure-soaked tears spilling down her cheeks, when she’s looking up at me whenever I’m burying myself inside of her.

She looks at me, not like she loves me, but like she knows me. Like she needs me. Like I’m the entire fucking universe and she is just spinning helplessly in some uneven orbit. It’s fucking unbelievable.

So when I finally reach my end, and am collapsed on top of her, fighting for air, I’m also peppering soft, affectionate kisses on her neck while she giggles tiredly.

“You’ve been so warm and fuzzy lately. I’m into it.”

I snicker into her skin, blowing warm air across her throat. “Can you blame me? I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

She sat up slowly, pulling herself away from me.

“And I, you, my love.” She stood off the bed, eyes searching the floor for her panties. “It just kind of came on suddenly. You sure you’re okay?”

She was concerned, which caused a lead brick to form in my gut. It’s guilt. I feel guilty.

“I mean, I’m fine.” I tried to waive a nonchalant hand to brush it off, but she still quirked her eyebrow the way she does, telling me I’m not getting away that easy.

“Yeah? Not very convincing there, Sebastian.” Her tone is playful, but there’s something under it.

“Just been a weird couple of days.”

She was pulling her leggings on. “How so?”

She was still so casual, but I know Mileena. She needed to know.

“Well-“ But before I could continue, there was a a loud banging on the door.

I fully expected to hear Jolly, or Nick, but instead, Rachel’s high-pitched whine came through the door.

“We’re leaving in 5 minutes, Noah! With or without you!”

I saw the face Leena made in response to the thick attitude laced in Rachel’s voice. “Damn, I wonder what’s got her so crabby?”

I sighed, and turned my back toward her while searching for my shirt. “Who knows.”

Soundcheck took way too long today, having to continuously stop for minute inconveniences. One of the laptops crashed, so we were at a complete standstill for about fifteen minutes. In that time, Nick and I decided to take a second look at the set list, trying to switch things up.

“Guys?” We both looked up to see her, galloping toward us, a stressed look on her face. Rachel was wearing a low-cut tee today, with black cargo pants and army boots.

“Listen, this computer is giving us a hell of a time, and I just don’t trust it. Would one of you run out to the bus and grab the backup?”

Nick stood up straight and gave a military salute, before jogging off the stage toward the side door. I chuckled and shook my head, looking back down at the clipboard in my hand.

“Changing it up tonight?”

I scanned the paper over and over, not looking up at her. “Thinking about it.”

“Why not play a song you haven’t played in a while?”

I looked up at her. “Like what?”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “Worst in Me?”

I shook my head. “Song blows live. Plus, we haven’t performed it in years. I doubt any of us even remember how.”

“Well, you pulled off The Fountain a while back.”

The sharpness of her tone struck a cord, so I dropped the clipboard on the amp I sat on, and stood up.

“We did.” I stood tall. I felt challenged.

“So why not play something else from that album?”

Her eyes had something in them. It almost looked like malice.

“Because we only played that song for a very specific reason.”

She scoffed. I almost couldn’t believe I heard it, but there it was.

“For Mileena, right?”

This made me narrow my eyes. Folio was right, something is off about her.

“Yep. For Leena.” My words held no room for argument.

She nodded her head slowly, lolling her tongue around between her teeth, before turning on her heel and walking toward Nick, who had re-entered with the computer in hand.

Something in the pit of my stomach burned, in a very bad, terrifying way.

What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

The show ran relatively smoothly. Mileena and Laura stood at the rails, making it easy to come undone more while she watched. We had a good time with our set, goofing around and enjoying ourselves.

After, I made no effort to hang around the green room. I was tired, and all I could think about was Leena, in sweats, wrapped in a hotel comforter, braid in her hair, stuffing her face with a burrito while we watched Stranger Things. It sounded heavenly.

Evidently, the rest of the crew felt similarly, as everyone decided to journey back to the hotel together. It didn’t take long, a short ride over from the venue. I had opted to ride with Laura and Leena, nearly bouncing out of my seat while we talked about the show.

“The crowd was fucking awesome tonight!” I say in the middle of the backseat, leaning between the driver and passenger’s seats, my arm draped over to hold Leena’s hand.

“It’s because we were there.” Laura was confident in her statement, which made Leena and I crack up.

“Oh definitely. You screaming ‘Fuck it up Folio’ really got’em going Lo.”

The ride was easy, and even fun. It helped me ignore the growing anxiety in my stomach.

I had been trying to push it back to the depths of my brain, the conversation. I knew it had to happen, but I couldn’t decide when. Originally, I had planned to tell her when we got back to the hotel; rip the bandage off, so to speak.

My selfishness wanted to wait, have a nice, relaxing night with her before we got home, and I gave her the full rundown.

The scariest part of it all? I had not a clue how she would react.

Mileena was anything but the jealous type. She had watched meet and greets with girls hugging me way too long, interviews where the host flirted with me, concerts where I was literally grabbed by women. It never fazed her. She never let a slip of the eyes, or a twitch of the lips. She always just smiled and told me I was a rockstar. It’s normal.

So she would understand this, right?

Waiting in the elevator was painful. The bus had beat us back to the hotel, and we all ended up, once again, together rising through the hotel. I felt my chest release the breath I had been holding once the door opened. I took Mileena's hand in mine, walking us down the hallway, and headed into our room.

She made herself comfortable, kicking off her Converse near the side of the bed, and flopping down on the blankets.

"Ugh, I'm so tired."

I snorted, pulling my shirt over my head. "Oh, yes. I know you must be so wiped from standing."

She tossed a pillow at me, that I caught and tossed back at her, laughing in the process.

"Listen here, buddy, I've been at home with that demon baby you made, for months!"

I feigned shock, grabbing my chest. "Demon baby? Nah, not my Addie."

She stood back up off of the bed, grabbing her backpack and pulling out her pajama pants.

"Oh please, she's insane, and you know it."

I shrugged. "I mean, she's highly intelligent. She can't help it."

She shook her head and shimmied out of her jeans, but paused before she put her pants on, scrunching her nose.

"Could I ask for a big favor?"

I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Yes, Leena, I'll let you wear my sweats."

She smacked at me with her pants. "No, dork. Can I please shower first?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You want me to join you?" I smirked, sticking my tongue out of the corner of my mouth.

"No." She was abrupt, and my face fell. She let out a sheepish grin. "My period started this afternoon after you left. It's pretty horrendous. Real horror movie shit. I'd rather be alone for that."

I pressed my lips in a tight line and nodded. "Fair enough."

I personally didn't care if she was bleeding, and she knew that, but she did, at least for the first few days, and I respected that.

She tip-toed over to me, and pressed a light kiss on my cheek, smiling sweetly. "Thank you, baby!" She scurried to the bathroom and hollered before shutting the door. "Out in a few!"

I sighed, sitting on the bed, and turned the TV on, flipping to the option for the streaming networks, pulling up Netflix and getting the show ready. I then pulled the fridge door open to see it was understocked, only one water bottle left, and no sodas.

"Babe?" I called from the bed, and made my way toward the bathroom. "The mini fridge is bare. I'm going to run down to the lobby and grab stuff from the snack bar."

"Ginger ale please!" She called from the shower.

"You got it."

I slipped my shirt back on and left the room, making my way toward the lobby. The snack bar was full of food, drinks, and regular amenities.

I grabbed myself a Dr. Pepper, a ginger ale for her, a 3 Muskateers, a bag of skittles, and four water bottles. After telling the attendant to charge it to my room, I was headed back up. It wasn't until after I got off the elevator, plastic bag rustling the only sound around, did I hear the footsteps behind me. I ignored them, continuing my stride toward my room.

"Noah!"

The voice made me stop, and groan loudly. "You've got to be kidding me." I didn't even bother hiding my irritation.

I whipped around, nearly colliding with the body behind me.

"What do you want, Rachel?"

She stepped back, eyes wide. "Gosh, could you at least act like you don't hate me?"

I sighed loudly. "Your room isn't on this floor. What do you need?"

My impatience was clear, and it was meant to be.

"You're still ignoring me! You can't just pretend I don't exist. We work together."

"We're not working together right now. So, technically, yes I can." I turned to walk away, but her hand caught my arm.

"Noah, Jesus Christ!"

I was fed up, wound up, and fucking over this.

"What, Rachel?!" My voice was loud, but I didn't care. She was going to make me be mean to her, but I'd do what I had to, to get my point across.

She took a step toward me. "We never talked after the other night!"

"What the fuck is there to talk about?!"

To that, she looked offended. "Are you kidding? You're seriously going to sit here and act like the night at the club was nothing?!"

"It was nothing! Just because you dreamt up some crazed fantasy in your head about me, doesn't mean that anything that happened that night meant anything!"

She huffed, and I could see the tears welling in her eyes. I felt no sympathy.

"We had fucking fun, Noah! For once, I felt like you actually noticed me!"

My eyes had to mock something like disbelief, because she shrugged, wiping at her eyes.

"We've been working together a while now. I get anything and everything you need, always. I take care of you guys on tour. We spend every damn day together! And after all this time, you just feel nothing?!"

If my eyes were any wider, they may actually fall out of my skull.

"Are you kidding me?!" I took a step back. "That is your fucking job! That's what we fucking pay you for!"

"Oh, and the other night, when you fucking came to my room? That was just part of my job?!" She narrowed her eyes, an anger shining through. "I saw the way you looked at me, Noah. The car ride? The club?" She shrugged. "You didn't feel anything?"

I scrubbed my palm over my face. "No, Rachel! I didn't! I'm in a fucking relationship? What the fuck happened to respecting that?!"

"It's hard to respect when you're shoving it in my fucking face!"

"Shoving it in your face?! Since when does the fucking world revolve around you?!" I squeezed my eyes shut. "For fucks sake, Rachel! You've lost it, or something."

"I know you fucking thought about it, Noah. Tell me you fucking didn't."

For no good reason whatsoever, I was frozen again. Her voice, her eyes on me, she had me fucking cornered. Because if I said no, I was lying. If I said yes, I was an asshole. I wasn't sure which I preferred in that moment.

Her lips curled in a vicious smile. "You did. You wanted to come in that night. You wanted me."

She was fucking sick. Insane. Out of fucking control.

I let my voice fall flat and even. "Rachel, I'm going to warn you, you're playing a dangerous game here." I straightened my spine, standing much taller than her. "And I will remind you, I am your employer."

She shook her head. "You going to fire me for telling you I have feelings for you? After you ogled me half-naked? Yeah, that'll go over well."

My jaw dropped. What the fuck? How the fuck did I get here?

I just wanted to lay in bed, snuggle my girl, and eat fucking candy and junk food. I wanted my daughter, and my dog, and my house. I wanted to not be here. I could feel my throat closing.

"Look, I'll give you space. But, just think about it, okay?"

And with that, she turned around and made her way back down the hallway.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, stoic and frazzled, trying to urge myself to move. I was one foot in the grave if I didn't get ahead of this. I needed to talk to Nick, or Jolly, or Folio, or Sumerian, or a lawyer. I let the gears in my head slowly start again before I finally managed to turn around back toward my room.

I took a deep breath, attempting to gather myself before I slipped the card in and pushed the door open.

"Care to explain that?"

Her voice was hard, cold, concrete. She stood, hair still dripping, my Shippuden tee shirt hanging loose around her shoulders, arms crossed tightly across her body.

"I...I uh," My voice came out stuttered and choked. I didn't have the right words to form. "She...I....We...." It wasn't working. I was trying so hard, but I was stuck.

"Hurry up, Noah. You've got thirty fucking seconds."

I stood corrected. I was already in my grave.

#noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #noah sebastian fic #fanfic

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

Note

Can I request a Eddie one shot where it’s that scene where he was basically telling Steve how Nancy still loves him and she didn’t hesitate to go after him but like instead it’s Eddie and female reader and it’s Steve telling Eddie that and Nancy and robin tell the reader something similar where it’s obvious they 1. Still love each other or 2. They like one another. You can choose whichever or go however you like!

Had to squeeze in some angst but I still think it’s pretty good, hope you like it!

𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, exes to lovers)

“I can’t fucking believe I’m gonna die like this,” You muttered under your breath, watching your feet as you made your way through the Upside Down, covered in who knows what, drenched and exhausted. You’d been perfectly content (anxious) at home as a witch hunt for your ex-boyfriend assembled. Why you cared was beyond your knowledge, why Chrissy Cunningham being in his trailer in the first place plagued your mind was something you refused to think about. Thinking about it gave it more power over you and you would not let Eddie have more power over you. Not after he’d dumped you last week only to hook up with the most popular girl in school despite sneaking around with you for months because he didn’t want to go public with your relationship. Your feelings were beyond hurt.

Despite the emotional pain, you’d been about to go looking for him when the witch hunt came to you. As in Jason and his shit friends had abducted you from your home, foolishly believing there was a possibility Eddie could still care about you. They’d dragged you with them to the boat house where they had found Eddie and tried to use you as bait, only you’d been able to slam your fist back into Jason’s balls. His grip had dropped from around your neck as he crumbled to the ground and Patrick made no move to stop you–his eyes almost pleading with you to escape–as you dove into the water.

Jason recovered quickly, though, jumping in after you. Patrick had jumped in after him, pulling him away from you to give you more time to escape. You’d almost reached Eddie’s boat, where he was leaning over, ready to pull you on board when you could hear Jason start yelling at Patrick. Despite Eddie yelling at you to keep coming to him, you turned just in time to see Patrick go under. Then he’d shot up into the air, where he proceeded to contort in ways the human body was not ever meant to, like he was some soda can before plummeting down to the water. At that point, Eddie was in the lake with you, tugging you with him and you went willingly, positive Patrick was dead.It had more of an effect on you than you cared to admit. He’d been nice to you the entire time you’d been Jason’s hostage. More than once, you’d almost been on the receiving end of Jason’s emotional tantrums and Patrick had been the one to step in and take the hit. Almost like he was used to it. He’d kept you calm, let you know he wouldn’t let Jason harm you, that he’d get you out of there.

You had tried sympathizing with Jason, aware stupid ass police officers had been the reason he believed Eddie played a major role in Chrissy’s death but he was taking things way too far. You didn’t think he’d stop until the boy he believed to be his girlfriend’s killer was dead. You’d been stuck with Eddie in the woods until help came in the form of Steve Harrington and his rag tag group. Then you’d been on that damn lake again, unable to think of anything but Patrick’s body hitting the water.

Eddie had tried to talk to you, console you but you’d shrugged away from him and moved onto the otherside, next to Steve. Knowing Eddie was alive soothed your worry but your annoyance and disdain for him was at an all time high. You were in this mess because he just had to play hanky panky with someone else’s girlfriend.

When Steve had been pulled under and everyone jumped in, you’d been about to dive in after Robin.“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” Eddie screamed at you, hand darting out to secure itself around your wrist as you stood with one foot on the edge. “I’m going in! They need help!” You frowned, ignoring the sensation that had shocked its way through your nervous system at his touch.

“Like hell you are, you’ll get yourself killed!” His eyes were pleading with you but you couldn’t see past your own hurt. “Just stay in the boat, please I can’t lose you!”

“I’m not yours, remember?” It made that ache in your heart rip wide open to say and you couldn’t stand to look at him any longer so you’d torn yourself away and jumped in. Probably wouldn’t have if you had known you’d have to fight bat looking demon creatures. You’d been on the tennis team so you were impressively knocking them out of the air like flies until a fucking wave of them were approaching. You’d all run into the cover of the disgusting looking woods rather than face them. Now here you all were, licking your wounds and making your way to Nancy’s house.

Eddie and Steve were somewhere behind you while you walked alongside Nancy and Robin.

“Are you guys like a thing?” Robin blurted out in a whisper, “I wasn’t gonna ask but if we’re gonna die, I’m kind of curious to know. He seemed to be coming onto you pretty hard in the boat.”

“No, we’re not a thing,” You sighed out, rubbing the soot—or wherever the fuck the nasty shit in the air was, off of your face. “Anymore.”

“I told you,” Robin lightly slapped Nancy’s shoulder with the back of her palm. “He looked pretty crushed when you ignored his help getting in the boat.”

“Yeah, well, when you get dumped you kind of don’t want anything to do with the guy after. Not that being held hostage and getting sucked into another dimension with him isn’t romantic.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” “Yes, Robin. I’m being sarcastic.”

“So, it’s over? Donzo? Caput?”

“As dead as the girl in his trailer.”

Robin pursed her lips and nodded while Nancy bit her lip.

“You know, he sort of implied she was there for other reasons.” Nancy supplied and you winced, trying to push the imagery out of your head.

“I don’t need nor want to know that.”

“No, no, not that! Business related.” You glanced her way to see her raising her eyebrows, hoping you’d understand her implication.

“You want me to believe Chrissy was at Eddie’s to buy drugs? The first scenario sounded more believable.” You huffed, glancing behind you just in time to see Eddie’s gaze dart away.

“It’s true,” Robin agreed, having grown fond of Eddie in their short time forced together, “I mean, yeah the guy was sad about her death, but I think it had more to do with the fact that he ran away.”

“What was he supposed to do?” You chortled, picturing Patrick’s death again. If Chrissy’s was as brutal as that, there had been no saving her. And why a coroner seemed to think a practical teenager was capable of breaking limbs, dislocating a jaw and crushing their eyes in like that was also questionable. Someone deserved to be fired. “Unfold her broken bones and tell her dead body to get up and run?”

Robin shrugged her shoulders, looking almost like she agreed with you, “Yeah, I don’t know exactly what he expected to do there, to be honest. But I know he feels at fault, almost. And I know he stares at you like my dad stares at my mom.”

You and Nancy both raised your eyebrows at her.

“In love! He stares at her like he’s in love! He jumped in after you, right? That guy has been hesitant every step of the way but he came in through that weird ass portal thingy right after you did. You weren’t even settled on your feet when he came through. It means something. Look, I can’t exactly be with the person I’m interested in, but if sh-they were looking at me like he looked at you? I’d be in their arms right now, professing my love and ready to take on Vecna.” Nancy stared at Robin, looking slightly awed at her speech, “Wow, Robin. That was actually really good.” “Because I mean it.” She was giving you a look you didn’t need to decipher, too busy thinking about how scared you’d been when you didn’t know if he was alive or not. You could lie to them all you wanted, but you couldn’t lie to yourself about being in love with Eddie. A love like yours wouldn’t just go away after a week.

“Nancy jumped in after Steve, are you saying that means she’s in love with him?”

“No!” Nancy made a face, shaking her head. “Now that is done. Plus, I’ve got a boyfriend who I am very much in love with. If it had been Jonathan, that thing wouldn’t have had the chance to drag him all the way through after I was done with it. Steve’s my friend. I wasn’t about to let him drown. Robin jumped in, too.”

“I am also not in love with Steve,” Robin commented dryly, as displeased with the idea as she was in Starcourt. Behind you, Eddie was getting a similar pep talk. “So what’s going on there, Munson?” Steve gestured to you as they hung back. Eddie glowered at him before his gaze was focused on the back of your head again. “None of your business.” Steve shrugged, satisfied with having tried. Eddie quickly grew restless. “She hates me.” He admitted with a frown. “Highly doubt that.” “Did those bat things get your eyes, too? ‘Cause you are definitely not seeing what I’m seeing.” Eddie had expected you to ignore him, you’d done so immediately after the break up but he was hoping now that you were in an actual life or death situation, you’d be a little more open.

He’d been scared shitless when Jason called out to him from the shore and he’d seen you with him. Then he noticed Jason’s hand gripped around your neck. All he knew after that was rage.

By some fucking good luck, you’d both managed to get out of the situation relatively unharmed, though he knew how effected you must have been with Patrick’s death. You’d been in a near catatonic state until the others showed up and informed you on exactly what was going on. Then you went right back to purposely ignoring him while all Eddie wanted to do was hold you until this was all over. “We’re literally in a very filthy version of Hawkins, she saw me almost eaten alive, there’s a very good possibility we won’t get out of here and she still won’t talk to you. If she hated you, she’d have no trouble chatting you up in these circumstances, for the hell of it. But she’s not, which means she’s really hurt, really mad, or both. And that means she cares, a lot more than she wants to admit.” Eddie dragged his stare away from you to glare at Steve, suspicious of his intentions, “You noticed all of that? Is there a reason you were paying such close attention to her?”

The jealousy stirred in his belly, though he was aware he’d been the one to end things between you, meaning he didn’t really have the right to be jealous, Eddie was. He was so very jealous. He’d wanted to rip Steve’s arm off when you’d been the only one to accept Steve’s assistance getting into the boat and not his.

And you’d jumped in to save him, despite knowing him for even less time than Eddie had. The implications were there and Eddie didn’t like them one bit. The only reason he’d broken it off with you in the first place was all the flack he was catching as of late, he knew the moment you went public with your relationship, they’d group you in as a freak with him. You were anything but a freak. Smart, beautiful, vice president, you had a lot going for yourself. Who the fuck was he to hold you back? So, he’d painstakingly let you go; felt very much so like he was ripping his own heart out along with yours. Then a week later, everything went to shit. Still, through all the supernatural events taking place, you were at the forefront of his mind. You were all that mattered. Making sure you got out of this alive was his only goal, whether you hated him or not.

“Whoa, no! She’s all yours buddy, I’m just stating my observations. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading women, lately. Ironically, I can't seem to find one.”

Eddie glanced between Steve and Nancy, aware of their previous relationship but there didn’t seem to be any romantic interest between the two, Steve remained relatively unbothered (though annoyed with his lack of a female companion), it seemed that chapter was truly over.

“You’ll find her eventually. As for her,” Eddie’s attention was back on you as his longing hit him full force. “I love her. Really messed things up and I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Won’t know if you don’t try, right?”

“Right.”

When they reached Nancy’s house, Eddie pulled you aside in the entryway while the others all seemed to conveniently vanish.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Was the first thing out of your mouth, you moved to head up stairs but once more, Eddie held you back.

“Don’t know if you noticed, honey, but right now might be all we have. I get it, you’re mad at me. And you have every right to be, I’d just rather not go out if this world—or, this dimension, I guess—without you knowing I’m stupid fucking in love with you.” Eddie declared, hand squeezing your unresponsive one.

“Sure,” You rolled your eyes, trying to yank your hand out of his grasp. Eddie wouldn’t budge, slowly reeling you in.

“Why are you so intent on being hard headed?”

“Because if we weren’t in a really fucked up alternate dimension, you wouldn’t be talking to me right now. You’d be nice and cozy with a pretty cheerleader in your trailer. Let’s just get back to our normal, shitty dimension and go back to pretending we never existed to each other, yeah?” It wasn’t a question. You tried to pull away again but once more, Eddie didn’t release you.

Instead, he tugged you forward until the tips of your shoes were touching, grinning victoriously down at you.

You were stuck in a world filled with monsters and the idiot was smiling??

“You’re jealous.” He stated, eyes alight with delight as his thumb stroked along your wrist. “You still love me.”

“What!? No! I just-I’m pointing it out!” You stuttered out, floundering to come up with an explanation as to why you brought up the other girl.

Eddie finally dropped his hold on your wrist only for his hand to move to the back of your head, holding you in place as he crushed his mouth to yours.

You raised your hands in surprise before they moved forward to rest on his chest and surprisingly, you didn't push him away. Instead, your hands bunched the fabric, face of the Tiefling mascot scrunched in your fist as Eddie worked your mouth open. The kiss tasted heavily of Lover’s Lake but you hadn’t thought you’d ever be in the position to kiss him again so neither of you gave a fuck.

Eddie pulled away, much to your dismay, panting out, “She was there to pick up special K. That’s it, okay? Just business. Only person I wanna be cozied up to is you, honey. I was fucking stupid, we should be together, baby. Me and you. How it was always meant to be and yeah, okay this whole ‘we’re all gonna possibly die’ thing prompted me but that’s all it was, a prompt. Bucket of ice cold water, a kick to the ass, a wake up call; if I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die knowing the love of my life is aware of just how much I love her. Never stopped. Not for a single goddamn second.”

You were fighting back tears when you flung yourself at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as his wound around your waist, clutching you tightly to him.

“Don’t say that! You’re not gonna die. We’ll get out of this.” You weren’t so sure, especially now that you know what the clock meant. You hadn’t told the others you’d heard the cursed sound while you were in Jason’s car after they had snatched you. You couldn’t tell Eddie, he’d be devastated about your impending fate.

“Say it,” he begged, pulling back only enough to stare down at you with pleading eyes, “please.”

“I love you.” Your response was instant, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Eddie made a choked sound before he was dipping down for another desperate kiss. The two of you stayed molded together for a handful of minutes, indulging in your renewed declarations until Steve called out.

“You guys hear that? Dustin?”

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klausysworld · 11 months

Note

can you write hcs for arguments with toxic!klaus and how he makes up for them

(I think this is pretty obvious but a trigger warning before you read this as it is essentially emotional abuse and sometimes physical/the fear of physical——I hope if anyone is struggling with something like that they find a way out of it and remember how strong they truly are)

A relationship with a Toxic!Klaus Mikaelson:

Your relationship with Klaus started off like a fairytale. He was like you saviour, he rescued you from crazy vampires, viscous wolves and temper-mental witches.

He kept you safe and protected, you were his favourite human, his favourite person. He always lifted you up when you were down and provided you with more than you could ever want or need.

He was perfect with all his dazzling presents and charming personality. His compliments were a constant and the look in his eye that he held for you was clear as day to all around that he was in love.

But having the devil love you…well you should have been prepared to be burned.

His jealousy was one thing. And at first it was somewhat cute. It reminded you that he loved you and he only wanted you but after a while it was just disheartening that he had such little trust in you.

And with the possessiveness mixed into it, well he wasn’t easy to calm down. He never let you out of his sight.

His grip on your wist would be tight to keep you at his side and the look he gives you is threatening when he leaves you for even a second. A warning to not go against his rules.

Klaus has a lot of unspoken rules.

And to begin with the punishments were fun, and desirable but they became feared. It went from him showing you how much he loved you and how you should only want to be with him, to “how dare you turn your back on me! It’s like you don’t even love me anymore!” And “you never wanted to be here in the first place, you’re a sneaky little thing I’ll give you that but I will not be taken for a fool and be exploited but some pathetic lesser being!”

‘Pathetic’ was a word he used all too much. He spat the word at you with such aggression you began to believe it. You felt it, you were it.

And now when he ‘took his anger out on you’, even if it was rough sex, you began to worry. He was rough, too rough, so rough it hurt but you couldn’t ask him to stop because you knew it would piss him off.

The fear of him ever purposely physically harming you was so high, you grew sensitive to loud noises and harsh touches, your body flinching and your instincts pushing you to fight or flight but you fought against them.

Glasses were his favourite thing to throw if he hadn’t already flipped a table. Pure rage on his face and he threw ridiculous accusations at you and each time you denied it his expression only darkened.

Once you took a different approach and decided to ‘confess’ to his lies but that resulted in 5 stitches when a shard of glass caught your skin after he launched a bottle of bourbon at the wall beside your head.

That was a day that haunted the both of you.

His face had never dropped faster when he saw the blood spill from your cheek and your hand covering your mouth as you let out a mic of a sob and a scream before you sprinted out of the house. He nearly lost his mind when nobody knew where you were only to over hear a conversation of you with a nurse when he had checked the hospital

———————————————————————

“No no it was stupid, I walked straight into the thorns dangling over my doorway, I really need to get them cut it just slipped my mind” you lied through your teeth and smiled at the nurse who studied you closely

“Well just incase,” she handed you a card “they’ll pick up at any hour, don’t be afraid” she whispered squeezing your hand as you looked down to the helpline.

“It won’t be necessary but thank you” you forced a smile and stood up slowly. You felt like you were going to be sick as you dropped the card into the bin and walked toward the exit.

Klaus had seen the card and his heart clenched in pain at the thought of the nurse thinking you were in an abusive relationship.

He was right outside the hospital door when you walked out making you jump.

He made a cautious approach before gently tracing the stitches on your cheek with a frown before pulling you into a hug

“Please forgive me sweetheart” he whispered, his voice cracking “I would never do this to you on purpose” he told you “I would never harm you” he added “I was paranoid, this is my fault, I take full blame. I am so sorry my love, forgive me” he pleaded, he was down on his knees on the cold floor at 11 o’clock at night with his arms around my waist and his face against your stomach as he begged for your forgiveness. And for whatever reason, you gave him it.

———————————————————————

A mistake. Forgiveness was a mistake.

And yet it was something you handed to him like a neighbour would give out candies to children on Halloween.

He made you weak. And yet somehow he had it in his head that you made him weak. That you ruined his life. You weaselled your way in and made him feel sorry for you.

He had to look after you, it would have been cruel to leave someone so fucking pathetic to try survive on their own.

But that was cruelty you would have preferred.

And yet you were unable to leave, get away from him.

No matter what happened he always seemed to trick you into forgiving him.

He always had an “I’m sorry” present at the ready, perfectly wrapped and given to you like it were the most precious thing in the world.

His touch was so soft after making you cry, his arms lifting you off of the floor which you had been lead on for hours while he stormed out to “cool down” and told you not to move.

He would lower you into a warm bath and wash you gently, his lips kissing your shoulder as his fingers massage your head. No words would leave your mouth as he whispered words of kindness to you, no blush would form on your face when he told you how beautiful you were.

And when he dressed you in his henley and only your underwear, you felt uncomfortable because you did not want his hands on you like that anymore. You didn’t want to feel disgusting with someone you loved.

But he would hold you so close, his hands rubbing your back and playing with your fingers as he murmurs promises of a better future.

Empty promises.

But at the time they were little pieces of hope.

Things to believe in and wish for.

He loved you, there was no question about it but he was not capable of showing it in a way that kept you both happy.

He was scary, he humiliated you and made you feel worthless with and without him.

But he had put a roof over your head, he got food in your belly and clothes on your body. You were nothing without him.

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kolyamanic · 5 months

Text

Dove and a Cage

nikolai gogol x gn! reader

Synopsis: Basically SFW headcannons and other shit about Nikolai as a boyfriend !

A.N: I love Nikolai Gogol ! Also NOT proofread, poorly written (IMO) and I don’t have autocorrect SO-

Buddy’s an eccentric guy. Terrorist. Mass murderer. All good qualities. Obviously, your relationship is something (cough insane cough). With this in mind, see to the following as a sort of guide when adopting your very own Ukrainian magician as a lover.

Baths. Nikolai adores bath - the cool water, fruity scented shampoo that he washes his braid with. But they're better with his darling dove! Sure, he could wash the blood of his victims off his body by himself, but that's boring. Better to have your hands trace over every single inch of him as you're stuck in his lap in a overly filled bubble bath. it's a miracle if you don't inhale one or two bubbles. you're also lucky if the whole apartment doesn't flood with how much water Nikolai splashes around. It's free will, y'know.

flooding y'alls apartment because he left the sink on while washing off his clown makeup

Ooooh, speaking of makeup! Have you seen the man? Nikolai’s a clown, and he’s got nearly everything someone could want. Especially eyeliner and red-colored products. Eyeshadow. Lipstick. Blush. Have fun being held down at the vanity chair as he dolls you up to look ‘just like him!’. Sure, the desk is covered in red particles and a few black smudges, but now his dove is a duplicate of him. You two are that one couple during Halloween that goes ALL out on the makeup. Honestly, Nikolai recreates facial gore pretty well (praise his terrorist tendencies please and thanks!) so if you’re trying to cosplay Cosmo from Chainsaw Man with the eyeball hanging out, he’s gotchu!

And when you do his makeup he melts because it’s so cute how your fingers are fumbling around with the brush as he hums some Ukrainian song and complains that you’re taking so long yet also praises you for doing such a good job? Two sides of the same coin for sure. Expect to have lipstick stains on your skin after you apply his lipstick.

In case it wasn’t ducking obvious enough, this man LOVES physical affections and contact. Drop him in the middle of the Sahara Desert with no food, water or shelter and he’d perk up after one kiss from you. Cuddling is a big deal of your relationship. As energetic and manic as he seems, Nikolai’s a human too who craves attention and affection from his s/o! He’s always big spoon and makes sure his hands are on your chest at all times. Or thighs. It’s either that or the boobs. He likes to bury his head in your chest too and claims it’s more soft than your pillows.

Kisses are to be given at random intervals by Nikolai. You’re cleaning his bloodied clothing? Cool, you’re making out with him in the laundry room now. Especially when he’s jealous. Nikolai is possessive as fuck. You’re his dove for a reason - kept in a cage for him to coo and fuss over. It’s hypocritical of him - always crying about freedom and ‘free will’ - but he doesn’t care. You’re innocent, in his eyes. The world’s dirty and he’s gotta purge it for you through destruction and kisses! So. Many. Kisses. Tongue, too. And lotsa times spent together!

Dates…are something. Nikolai’s a globally recognized terrorist, and so he can’t just waltz outta the house with you. No, sir! Either it’s something illegal (usually stupid little things that turn out to be a major violation of the law but he claims he ‘didn’t know’) or it’s staying at home brushing and styling his hair or letting Nikolai attempt to teach you the hopak dance. He’ll tease you, but he’ll love you. Bonus points if you make piroshki afterwards too. Bonus BONUS points if you make a second batch after he eats the first one !

there’s only so many things to do with your ukrainian boyfriend, but Nikolai has the brilliant ability to somehow find the dumbest shit possible to do. Safe to say, your dates are NEVER boring. Either it ends in bed cuddling, or running away from the police as he uses his cape to smuggle you two back to your temporary apartment.

Nikolai is a great boyfriend overall - affectionate, humorous (in a dark AND normal way) and never boring. The cops may be on you two’s asses all the time for various crimes, but hey - it’s not a crime to love Nikolai Gogol!

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reverie-starlight · 1 year

Text

okay my personal obey me pact mark headcanons let’s go!!

Placement, size and other various things I can think up about them as I go :)

+ short thoughts on how the brothers would treat the marks if you were together.

General info on how I personally interpret the pact marks + what I think would be so cool about them:

I don’t think they’re always visible on your skin, at least not to humans without magic. And maybe the most you would be able to see on yourself (as the pact mark bearer) would be the faint outlines of them. They’d be clearly visible to demons and angels, and also faintly visible to witches and sorcerers like Solomon (and you could see his the same way).

When you actually use the pact on the brothers, the symbols would be clearly visible to you with black/brown-ish markings and they’d give off an aura that’s the colour of their respective demon (Lucifer’s would glow blue when used, Asmo’s pink, Belphie’s purple, etc).

They can either choose where to place them or just let them manifest naturally on your body, same with how big they’d want them to be. I have no idea what they would look like, but their symbols would definitely be in there somewhere. I don’t have a set way that I picture them in my mind tbh. I’ve seen some absolutely stunning art of other people’s interpretations though.

(please keep in mind that I’m only on lesson 23 currently, so if there’s something inconsistent with anything confirmed past that point I’m sorry! but I also did my research before writing this to make sure my ideas weren’t totally disproven by canon so I think it should be okay)

On to the brothers!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer:

Listen. His would be placed on your neck. With all that talk when he first agreed to form one about you not owning him through the pact but it actually being the other way around??? Tell me he wouldn’t. It’s vulnerable, of course someone who (at least in the beginning) claims to hold all the power would place it there?? I don’t think it’d be huge, it’d be subtle on the left side of your neck but enough for it to make things clear to anyone who tries to mess with you (and by default him as well). Not tiny, but definitely not as big as some of his other brothers’. He’s smug about his choice of placement for sure. Gets mildly annoyed if you happen to cover it up but would never show it.

…if you guys are dating, he would definitely take the opportunity to kiss it affectionately when you’re having a soft moment together or trace his finger along it to get a reaction out of you. Tease.

Mammon:

I’m a sucker for him so his is obviously going to be placed over the heart. Whether he did it intentionally or not is a mystery to both of you (you both know). Obviously he makes a big deal about being your first demon, so I think he’d want his pact mark to be somewhat big. Not so big that it’s covering that entire side of your chest, but if you spread your hand over your heart, it’s roughly that size. If you wear low cut shirts or tank tops it’d peak out a bit. At first he thought the placement was embarrassing but now he appreciates it, whether you’re together or not.

…if you ARE dating him, though, he’s going to admire it and trace over it when you’re lying in bed together and talking before calling it a night. Since he didn’t explicitly choose its placement, you like to tease him by saying it must have been a subconscious decision to place it in such a tender spot. Kisses the centre of the mark every morning when you wake up together and every night before bed without fail.

Levi:

I thought about a few different things for Levi because his sin is envy, so he’d definitely want it somewhere obvious to prove that he has that connection with you. His Henry, his best friend, this human that (eventually) means the world to him!! but he’s also incredibly insecure so I think he’d automatically feel like he doesn’t deserve to take up much of your skin with his mark, so it’d be on the smaller side. He would’ve made it tiny but when he saw how big mammon’s was and how it was already over your heart, he impulsively placed it on the back of your dominant hand, (OR opposite to the sorcerer’s society mark which I JUST learned was a thing lol) leading a little bit up your wrist. Not as big as Mammon’s or even Beel’s. Bigger than what he intended and feels so guilty about it. Still the smallest of any of them. You have to reassure him. It’s in a very obvious place, no demon or angel would be able to miss it, and unless you wear gloves all the time, it would never be covered up for long.

…if you guys are together, he enjoys holding your hand and just admiring the mark. also enjoys seeing it when you play games together and will definitely lift it up and inspect it every so often. Likes to watch it glow orange when you use it.

Satan:

He would place it on your wrist. Specifically the wrist of the hand without levi’s mark. no real reason for it, he just thought it would look cool going from your wrist and up your forearm. One of the bigger ones of the seven to spite Lucifer (hey- even if his reasons for making the pact wasn’t lucifer related anymore, you can bet the size of it was, even if he formed one before the oldest).

...if you’re dating him, he leaves a series of kisses up your arm over the mark when you’re reading together in the library. will mindlessly trace over it when he’s particularly stressed or needs to calm himself down. it gets to a point where you just offer him your wrist when you see he’s getting irritated and it works about 70% of the time.

Asmo:

Collarbone. Would have gone for the neck but decided to let it manifest itself at the last second. He said something along the lines of “it will be what it will be- it’d look perfect anywhere, truly.” Believe it or not, it’s one of the smallest marks. Not so tiny that you can barely see it, but not large either. Likes the size of it because “you have to get up close and personal to really appreciate it.”

...if you’re together, he’ll constantly want you to show it off. he’ll also make sure the skin in that area is especially taken care of. when he’s lying his head on your chest, he’d always make sure to lie on the side of his mark.

Beel:

When he made his pact with you, he definitely wasn’t too concerned with the placement or size of it. He let it manifest naturally and chuckled a bit when he realized it appeared on your stomach. It was smaller than Mammon’s, and bigger than Levi’s but still pretty noticeable, especially if you like to wear crop tops.

...if you’re dating beel, he’ll definitely rub over it when you’re cuddling in his room, digesting after a meal. he’s definitely more reserved than some of his brothers, but I do think he’d like it when it’s visible. lays his head on it in his sleep sometimes, nuzzles into it for sure.

Belphie:

Belphie is too lazy to choose a placement himself, so he also lets it manifest naturally. His mark would be on your right rib cage, slightly higher than and opposite of Beel’s. The smallest of the marks, which he is unhappy about now but was indifferent to before. Is absolutely fascinated with the pretty purple glow it gives off when you use it.

...if you’re dating him, he sleeps attached to that side of your body, hugging it and also nuzzling into it (which he denies when you tease him about it).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the last few aren’t the best but I genuinely couldn’t think of super different things for the twins and asmo aside from their placements :(

but other than that I’m really happy with how this turned out!! hope you enjoyed <3

#obey me shall we date #obey me pact marks #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me brothers #obey me x reader fluff #obey me fluff

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bump1nthen1ght · 1 year

Text

Out of the Woods (Epilogue: Part 1) (Male!Werewolf x Female!Reader)

Pairing: Male! Werewolf x Female!Reader

Warnings: Explicit Content (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 2853 words

Summary: Due to multiple requests, here's some more Heath! I ran a poll for what kind of continuation y'all wanted and smut was the resounding winner. I also have another, fluffier piece that I'll be working on between requests, so expect that within the next month. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

Part 2

The transition from strangers, to kind of friends, to something else has been interesting with Heath.

In many ways it was simple. The both of you had been holding yourselves back from that something more and when you kissed for the first time, it felt like a dam had been finally broken open.

Heath had jumped head first into physical affection, no longer inhibited to brushes against your arm during the dishes. Now he would settle immediately into your side when you sit on the couch, arms thrown around your shoulder and face nuzzled into your neck. His body soaked up the contact like it was a drug, leaving you wondering if the need to be close and snuggle with another was a uniquely werewolf thing.

Despite this, other little things seem to fluster Heath the most. He doesn’t mind the intimacy of sleeping in the same bed, holding your hand or even kissing you. But when you help him cut up some vegetables, brush his tail fur, or even rub that one spot behind his ears his face grows hot with embarrassment. He’ll default to playful snark and jabs, but you can tell by the way his tail twitches and he hides his face that he’s embarassed. It’s why you’re wondering if you should make the first move or not, to push past just cuddling into something more….intimate.

You will admit you are only human and being cooped up in a small space with a jaw-droppingly ripped werewolf has been stoking the fire in your belly. Especially now that he feels comfortable enough to wander around without a shirt, or to rub his face into your chest while you cuddle. Last night, Heath leaned one of his arms against the door frame as you talked and you clenched your jaw so hard you thought you’d shatter your retainer. You adore his willingness to touch and be affectionate, but all this unintentional teasing is killing you.

You’re both sitting down for a movie, His head laid against your chest as you rest against the arm of the couch. His long body splays out behind, his cheek pressed against your sternum while your ankles are hooked around his waist. It’s an intimate position, sure, but Heath is entirely focused on the movie, twisting his fingers with yours in complete nonchalance. But looking down at his long soft hair, admiring his taut back muscles and cute butt, you can’t help but let your mind linger…elsewhere.

The movie is Titanic, which you’ve finally convinced him to watch despite him blanching at the long running time. He bellyached, saying “I already know what happens, the ship sinks” but it seems your promise of cuddles and a forbidden love storyline have drawn him in, eyes locked on the screen as Jack and Rose run away from the nosy butler. It’s only when Leo Dicaprio honks the car horn, Kate Winslet playfully sitting in the backseat do you remember the upcoming sex scene. The passionate, borderline-puberty inducing sex scene you’re about to watch with Heath, who has never seen a movie sex scene before.

Well, now your mind is really wandering.

You're stuck trying not to stare at Heath’s iron biceps wrapped around your waist and while also avoiding the very hot and heavy scene in front of you, but the noises of rapture and musical climax are kind of obvious. Heath hasn’t said anything, but there is no hiding the way his ears have perked up or the way he jolts when Rose slams her hand in the glass in ecstasy. The sound of her hand gliding down the window, leaving an imprint in the dewey surface, throws you back to being 13 and horrible embarrassed watching this with your parents.

“T-theres actually a continuity error here.” You jump in with another fun fact, trying to ease the mood. “Because we saw Rose roll down the front window of the far, so it probably shouldn’t be steamy in the car.”

“Hmmhmm.” Heath says, no snarky comment about how you pay too close attention to the details. He quickly flips his head so he’s facing you, his jaw slightly digging into your stomach. “But does that actually happen, anyway? The windows steam up when you have sex in a car?”

“Oh yeah, it definitely does.” You say with far too much confidence, making Heath’s eyebrows shoot up. “I-I mean you’re both breathing in such a confined space! Your breath lingers and plus it only gets heavier when you have sex so it all just….” Your hands gesticulate randomly, “...collects, I guess.”

“Hmm.” Heath hums, but he doesn’t turn to look at the movie. Jack and Rose’s chatter goes forgotten as he looks you over. The thoughts are clambering around in his head, you can tell. His tail has taken to that nervous wagging, a slow back and forth.

“So…have you?”

“Have I…have I-” You point to the screen, not willing to say ‘fucked in a car’ out loud. Heath nods, forcing you take a deep breath.

With the same kind of bravery that had you standing up to several armed men not too long ago, you nod.

Heath eyebrows shoot upwards again.

“Just once!” You stutter. “I was in high school, it’s a small town so we had nowhere else to go. Plus he had a hatchback so….”

Oh god, please just say anything.

“Huh.”

MORE THAN THAT PLEASE.

“I-it wasn’t very good, to be honest.” The word vomit tumbles out before you can stop, knowing your jumping down a terrible rabbit hole. “I think it was mostly because we we’re both pretty inexperienced, so our limbs kept getting in the way and he didn’t know how to prep me right-”

For the love of god STOP TALKING.

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘prep’?” Heath says, his ears perked upwards. It seems you've really dug yoursel a hole now.

“Well, I wasn’t really prepared so when he-” you struggle over the next word, trying to avoid eye contact, “-entered me, it was kind of uncomfortable.”

“So he just stuck it in, right away?”

Ever the romantic, Heath.

“Y-yeah, we had been making out before but that was it.”

Heath raises himself to his elbows, indignation set in his face.

“Some guys do that?”

“I mean, I think most guys do that.” You mutter, recounting too many disappointing one night stands to mention. Heath cringes to himself.

“Human men are fucking idiots.” You nod, about to interject and try to defer the subject anywhere else, but Heath keeps talking. “Jeez, I can’t imagine even trying to do that. That sounds-” Heat cringes again, shaking his shoulders, “That doesn’t even sound fun, not to mention painful.”

“Yeah, but I guess thats what lube is for?”

Heath rolls his eyes.

“Ridiculous, why buy something when you can just make a girl feel good.” Heath brushes some stray hair out of his face, the flex of his bicep giving you a beautiful sight. You feel your face grow hot and something bold seems to stir into your stomach. The pictures in your mind start going wild.

You, Heath, naked, panting in the back of a hatchback. His canines nibbling on your neck, your nails digging into his back.

“W-well, how would one make a girl feel good?” You ask, twiddling your fingers, trying to throw away the tantalizing fantasy brewing your mind. “You know, since most guys clearly don’t know.”

Heath’s eyes go wide, ears flattening as his cheeks grow warm with a blush. Just behind him, you can see his tail wag just a bit.

“W-well, first off,” Heath clears his throat, dropping back to his elbows and hovering over your chest. Those bright yellow eyes stare up at you, sending a bolt of electricity down your spine. “You make sure the girl is nice and cozy, in a position she could stay in for a while.” Your body unconsciously sinks into the soft couch cushions, your limbs popping as you force them to relax.

“Then,” Heaths voice sinks into a deeper octave, his gaze shooting down to your pajama shirt, where your braless chest lies waiting. “You ask her how she’s feeling.” He takes another deep breath. “You feeling good?”

You nod, breathless and fervent. It instills some confidence in Heath, the kind you can see roll down his back as he smirks.

“Good, then you give her a kiss.” A soft peck lands on your lips. You ache to follow Heath’s mouth but a large hand presses down on your chest, keeping you in place. “And you slowly move down.” Heath whispers, resting his palms on your sides as his head drips down to your stomach. He presses a soft kiss through the fabric, but its no less electrifying. Nor are the trail of kisses he makes down your abdomen, his hand gliding across your skin as he does. He stops at the edge of your sweatpants, looking upward.

“Still good?”

You nod, almost gasping as Heath's nails slip under your waistband and slowly pull down. Heath deeply exhales as he sees the top of your underwear, some blue boyshorts you usually wore on movie nights. Heath presses a kiss to your pubic bone, rolling your pants down your leg and slipping them off. One hand creeps up under the hem of your shirt, pushing it to your chest but not fully off.

“And finally-” Heath cuts you off guard, licking a long stripe against the fabric against your pussy, spurring a whine in your chest, “You dig in.”

Heath's hands lock onto your hips, shoving his face into your crotch with a deep breath and a voracious tongue. The cotton of your boy shorts rub against your clit as Heath licks up and down. The sensation is incredible, but no love is lost when Heath rips off your underwear with one hand and throws himself back into your pussy. Your hand reaches down into his long hair, neck craned back as you moan. After a few sucks on your sensitive spot, Heath shoves his tongue inside you. Unsurprisingly, it's long and very dextrous, rubbing against your spongy walls.

A callouse thumb quickly joins Heath’s ravenous mouth, gently tapping your clit while Heath tongue-fucks you like a man dying tomorrow. Your nails dig into Heath’s scalp, a mantra of his name pouring out. The sloppy sounds of Heath eating you out are pure debauchery and only turn you on more.

“Fuck, you taste good.” Heath growls as he comes up for air, quickly returning to his feast. Your thighs clench around as his head, Heath’s ears perking up to take in each of your wanton moans. You stutter and whine as the rubber band in your stomach pulls taut, begging to snap and release the pressure.

“Heath, Heath, fuck-” Your eyes roll back as Heath’s tongue jerks in and out, hitting your g-spot with precision. That calloused finger returns and rubs your clit, teasing circles that have your legs shaking. Heath’s hair is soft and thick, wrapped around your fingers as you yank him impossibly closer to your core. A pleased growl rumbles up from Heath’s chest and against your pussy. You bite your lip, hips jerking upwards. “F-fuck, I’m gonna cum. Heath, I’m gonna-” Your voice lilts upward, nearing a whine as the dam finally bursts, your orgasm wracking your body. The grip of your thighs in Heath’s head tightens, falling away as your body comes down from it’s high. Heaths pulls out of your cunt, his tongue lapping up your wetness before he looks up at you.

It takes a bit for you to catch your breath, your vision blurry as you try to make sense of your body and the situation. But a warm hand tilts your jaw, the warmth of Heath’s chest radiating into your skin as he sits up and looks at you.

“You okay?”

You nod, reigning in the breathless parts of your mind. Heath’s eyes are slightly concerned, but he can’t hide the smug smile he keeps to himself, inwardly proud of bringing you the edge like this. It’s cute, hot, and a little bit of a challenge. A challenge you gladly accept.

You wrap your arms around Heath’s neck and hook your ankles around his hips, feigning to pull him in to cuddle. Heath readily goes to gently lay himself atop you, but with a quick snap you’ve flipped both of you over, your soaked pussy now resting on Heath’s crotch as you sit on his lap.

“My turn, big guy.” You whisper, planting a kiss on his shocked lips, taking in his wide eyes. But his hands easily find their place on your sides, feeling you up while you shimmy down his pants. His face flushes that adorable blush, the thump of his excited tail hitting the couch as you tug at his underwear. Heath’s thick, hard cock thumps against his stomach, just as drool worthy as you had imagined it too be.

Wow, thank god he prepared me.

You joke, taking in Heath’s length. Heath’s throat bobs and he looks away as you admire his body, an odd strain of insecurity flustering him.

“Is this okay?” You whisper, running a hand down his chest, lingering before his cock. Heath fervently nods, choking on his words.

“Yes, d-definitely. Please.” The whine he lets out his primal, only encourage when you grab onto the base of his cock, stroking it a few times. His hips cant into your palm, his fingers pressing into your skin. You take a deep breath, shooting a sweet smile.

“Ok, just let me know. Otherwise,” You sit, lining Heath’s cock up with your entrance, rubbing his head against your lips, “I’m going to take you for a ride.”

With an ease brought about by your powerful orgasm, you sink down onto Heath’s cock in one movement. The sensation has you both gasping, Heath’s hand squeezing your sides as you settling onto his base. The tip of his cock brushes against your g-spot, making you wiggle your hips just slightly. Heath gasps again and now you can’t help but hide your smug smile.

You weren’t joking when you said you were going to take him for a ride.

Sitting back on his huge thighs, you raise up your hips before throwing them forward, sinking Heath’s cock in a way that rubs your walls perfectly. The pleasant buzz of your last orgasm has you nice and relaxed, the subtle tingles sent up your belly just enough for your pussy. You move your hips again, resting the palms of your hands on Heath’s chest, and then start riding in earnest.

The couch shakes and creaks under the two of you, Heath’s back shifting up and down as you grind and hump his cock like a stuck-on dildo. His moans are tantalizing, his head thrown back to show off the columns of his thick and sweaty neck. His hands stay latched around your middle, thumbs rubbing your stomach. Every now and then he jerks and his grip pulls you closer, trying to set the pace, but you let it slide. Instead you grab one of his hands and bring it up to one of your tits, letting his fingers latch on and play with a nipple. Heath growls, now looking back up at you with debauched infatuation.

It’s so cute, seeing him like this.

You lean your chest down, pressing your chest against his and grabbing his jaw. Flickering yellow eyes look right into your eyes, long tongue almost falling out his mouth as he takes deep breaths.

“I l-love you.” He gasps, your noses pressed against each other. Your heart skips a beat, soaring with happiness. You immediately rush in for a kiss, unintentionally clenching around Heath’s cock as you do. He whines in the kiss, reaching a hand up to tangle in your hair. Your hips begin to stutter, Heath jerking his own up to reach deeper inside you. You can feel his cock twitching inside you. By that and the breathlessness of his moans, Heath seems to be close.

“I love you too.”

With that, whispered against his salty lips, Heath grabs onto the back of your head and pulls you into an embrace. His hips forcefully take the lead, fucking up into yiu before they twitch and shake. Heath nearly roars as his orgasm hits, forcing his dick inside you as he raises himself up.

Like yourself, his body immediately collapses into relaxation, his racing heart beating against your head as you lay snugly against him. His softening cock stays inside you, Heath still too pussy-drunk to notice. His arms stay tightened around, keeping you close as he nuzzles into the top of your head, taking a deep whiff of your calming scent.

You’re not sure how long you lay like that; sweaty and warm. But Heath’s embrace feels like a cocoon, your hearts beating together as you lie. It’s the comfort of being with someone you love and knowing you are loved,

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #monster romance #female reader insert #werewolf

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