#but there’s no one to live with if I move far away

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter four. doors and burgers

────────────────────────

pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 2.2k

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, panic attack, boobies lol, Scarlett should be her own warning, daddy issues,

authors note ⇢ sorry that i messed up on my last post yall!! i confused scarlett with heather. she was supposed to be Heather but i was like….. heathers get too much crap thank you conan 😒 and i forgot to change it lol sorry!!! also i rewrote this like five times and i this was the one i was most satisfied with, so enjoy!!

────────────────────────

Scarlett leaves from what you can tell. People are talking about the kitchen debacle and there are mixed reviews. Some are still kissing Scarlett’s ass, others don’t like her any longer. But it doesn’t seem anyone’s on your side. You’re still invisible. You’ve since taken off your jacket that was drenched and Rafe has given you his. It’s big but it doesn’t cover you entirely, and that makes you feel so damn embarrassed.

Despite your mission being to get Jonah to see you, neither of you can find him anywhere. Kiara and Sarah had their eyes out for him as well but they’ve since lost the mission at hand. Now, you’re all sat in the living room where there are a few people dancing around Sarah who’s singing obnoxiously bad on the karaoke machine. No one has any idea where it came from but everyone is loving it.

You’re clapping along with Kiara, laughing when Sarah messes up another lyric and blames the song. For the first time in what seems like a long time, Rafe isn’t drinking. He isn’t doing much of anything but staying by your side. He’s sitting beside you, watching his sister with amusement. He refuses to clap though, only doing it when you reach over to lift his hands and make him clap.

It’s Kiara’s turn to sing when you get up off the couch and look for the bathroom in the huge figure 8 house. The home has photographs scattered, a happy family shown in them all. It might just be the beer in you that makes you want to cry. You’ve seen the kid around school before and he isn’t anything to you. Anything at all. But you’re wishing him the best. Yeah, you realize it’s the beer.

You stumble into a random room and let out a screech when a body gets up from a bed.

“What are you doing here?” Jonah’s voice sends a flutter through your belly. Your belly. Your stomach. You take a hold of Rafe’s jacket and tighten it around yourself, hiding your body from the guy you want badly.

“Oh… uhm…” you wipe the tears from your eyes that had bled out at the family pictures. “I’m looking for the bathroom.”

He’s immediately up on his feet at the sight of your tears. Your eyes widen when his hands take a hold of your round face and examines you carefully. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Your breath hitches at the feel of his warm hand. It’s soft. Far too soft for a man who puts his all into the gym and football. “Oh? I… uhm… haha, what? Yeah? I'm… I’m fine. Just…” you sniffle and gently move his hand from your face. You’re refusing to meet his eyes,shy about your sadness. “The pictures… they look so happy.”

The look on his face makes you want to run away. And then, he laughs. “You’re crying because Tommy and his family look happy?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, stuck. “It’s not a bad thing.” Are his words when he seems to realize how stunned you feel. “It’s… adorable.”

You fumble your words, “oh, I, uhm, yeah, okay, that’s… yeah.” To have the guy you’ve been into for years call you such a word is a rush. A scary one. But you like it. And whatever it is you did, you wish you could keep doing it until he saw you as you saw him. Perfect.

You’re still standing by the door of the random bedroom and it’d be easy to just run off. But you can’t. Making a fool of yourself in front of Jonah will only make your plan harder. And Rafe would kill you for letting his effort go to waste. “What are you doing in here?” It comes out more abrasive than you wished, internally scolding yourself.

But he doesn’t seem to mind. Rather, he takes his seat back on the bed and shrugs. “It’s noisy.”

You understand. You really, really do. And you want to say it aloud but your tongue is tied as you watch him throw his head back, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows gently. After a moment, you semi-gather yourself. “Did you leave cause of Sarah?” You joke lightly. “That’s what made me leave.”

This garners a soft laugh out of him and you want to jump up and squeal. But Rafe told you to act nonchalant. “Yeah, she’s certainly… singing.”

You take one step away from the door. Just one. You were going to sit beside him. You were going to talk to him. Really talk to him.

The door behind you swings open and hits your head. Hard. “What the fuck?” Jonah’s quick on his feet, rushing to you in a panic. You turn to look at the culprit and your frown turns into a glare. Rafe.

“What the fuck, Rafe?!” You hiss, sending a punch to his shoulder.

“Why were you standing so near the door?!”

“Why would you swing it open like a maniac?!”

“It’s not my fault you were standing there—“

“Maybe don’t open doors like that—“

“Oh, shut up, do you ever not complain—“

“Says you! You’re, like, the king of complaining—“

“King? King—“

“Should I leave?” Jonah’s soft voice speaks and you shove Rafe’s face as you look at him and smile.

“N-no, you shouldn’t have to. He was just leaving.”

“I was? I don’t— ow, fuck, okay, I’m leaving.”

The mood was ruined. Whatever mood Jonah was in was gone. And so was your confidence. It's awkward as you sit next to him on the bed. The palm of your hands are on your knees, anxiously rubbing at them. He’s laid back on the bed, arm crossed over his eyes, the only thing telling you he’s up is the soft twitch of his fingers.

“Does it hurt?” His voice cuts through the thick silence.

Panicked, you glance over at him with wide eyes. “Does… does what hurt?”

“Your head. He opened the door pretty hard.” He still doesn’t move from his position and you’re grateful he’s not looking at you. You do better when people can’t perceive you.

“Oh, my head… yeah, it’s fine, doesn’t hurt. I-it’s a little sore but I’ll make him pay for it.” You shrug, fixing Rafe’s jacket on your body.

“You two are close.” It’s supposed to be a question. It doesn’t sound like one.

You shake your head despite his eyes being covered up. “Not really. I… he’s nice but we’re not like friends.”

He sits back up and this makes you tense up, looking straight ahead at that damn door you hate now. “Just never seen him with anyone but his same three friends.”

“I’m friends with Sarah. We’re just… around each other more.” It’s a lie. But you don’t believe Rafe would want people to know just how much time you’re really spending together. The less people that know, the better.

“You and Scarlett are really done?” He questions, eyes on you. But you can’t look over at him. You’re stiff and awkward and unsure of how to act around him.

You nod softly, “y-yeah… she’s, uhm, not a very nice person.”

It’s quiet for another moment. “She’s been running her mouth about you. Calling you names. Really bad names. And all you can say is ‘she's not nice’?”

Hearing that she’s still talking about you is a punch to the guy and suddenly you don’t care about your crush. You don’t care that you two are sitting so close to each other. All you can think is how horrible she truly is. How blinded you were. And how stupid you feel for missing her. “Well… just because others are doing bad things, doesn’t mean I should. Be the bigger person and whatnot.” You let out a small and awkward laugh to try and shrug off what you’re really feeling.

“Wow.” Are his words as he gets up off the bed and walks to the dresser of the bedroom and picking up a magazine. “You’re really not like other girls.” An even bigger punch to the gut. Logically, you know he’s trying to be kind. He’s only saying this to make you feel better, your feelings on Scarlett written all over your face.

You don’t wear makeup, not like other girls do. You don’t dress up, not like other girls do. You don’t giggle over guys, not like other girls do. You don’t go out and have fun, not like other girls do. But you want to do it all. You want to be like other girls. You never felt worth it. Lipstick on a pig. You’re too big to fit trendy clothes. You don’t giggle over guys because they’d be disgusted that you’re into them. You don’t go out because you’d be the biggest out of the group of girls that are around you. You’d be an eyesore.

In a frantic move, you get up off the bed. “Right. Well, I, uh… I have to go.”

“Huh? What—“ but you don’t pay any attention to his words as you rush out of the random bedroom. There are kids littering the hallway. The steps are being used as seats, shoving people slightly as you go. The music is loud. Too loud. You can feel it bouncing in your eardrums and filling your already muddled thoughts. Theres nothing you can think about other than getting out of that damn house. And in your panicked stupor, you can’t find the damn. The house is too damn big.

There’s a couple making out in the bathroom when you rush inside and when they see the fear in your eyes, they rush out, leaving you to be.

The drive isn’t awkward. Not like you thought it would be. He didn’t question you. And despite his last text, he didn’t bring it up. And you’re grateful he didn’t.

“Where are we going?” You ask when you realize you’re headed downtown. “I want to go home, Rafe.”

He shrugs, hands on the wheel. “I’m hungry. We’re just stopping by The Wreck real quick.”

He doesn’t ask you to get down with him. He parks, heads inside, and he’s out fifteen minutes later. But he doesn’t start driving. In fact, he immediately takes a bite out of his burger, your food untouched on your lap.

“You’re not gonna eat?” He asks with his mouth full, but you don’t grimace like you should. You grab a napkin and hands it to him but he shakes his head refusing it.

“You’re dirty.”

“And you’re not eating.” He swallows his food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re lying.”

“So because I'm fat, I must be hungry?” It’s a joke but the look he gives you tells you he’s not amused in the slightest. “Tough crowd. Seriously, I'm not hungry.”

“Is this that thing where you don’t eat in front of people cause you’re with a guy? Sarah told me it’s some shit she does.”

“It’s that thing where I’m not hungry, actually.” But it smells divine. Usually, you’d happily eat this but after tonight, you’re not sure if you’ll ever eat greasy foods again.

He scoffs, putting his burger down and holding a fry up at you. “Try the fry.”

“You try the fry.”

“I already did. Seriously, my mom had this trick while we were growing up. Sarah always swore she wasn’t hungry and wouldn’t get anything to eat but she’d make her try something from the plate to realize how hungry she really was.”

“How old was she?”

“My mom? She was pushing forty.”

You glare at the proud look on his face at his joke. “Sarah, stupid.”

“I don’t know… seven?”

“You’re treating me like a seven year old?”

“Try. The. Fry.” He swipes it across your lips and this gets a laugh out of you, shoving him away.

“Okay, okay! I’ll eat a fry. But that one has lipstick all over it now.” You pick a fry from his and he squints his eyes at you.

“You have a perfectly good batch.”

You pop the fry into your mouth with a content smile. “Not as good as yours.” And he was right. The salt and buttery soft fry proved to be true— you are hungry.

With a sigh, you grab your burger and say— “okay… just… don’t look.”

This amuses him. “Don’t look at you eat your burger? Well, there goes my spank bank.”

“Ew, Rafe!” You laugh, nose scrunching at his crude words.

You take a bite of your burger. And it’s absolutely delicious. Just like you knew it would be. Instead of worrying over stuffed up cheeks or looking fat while eating, you share laughs, mouths full and not a single care.

taglist. @pinkyqily @chalahyung01 @lunalvrsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @jayjsbaby @yawnzshit @mytimeiswaiting @tsshifting @always-reading @chimchimjiminie16 @ayy1234567 @acidfeens @congratsloserr @murdockcastleslut @cl4uus @clairesblouse @ange111 @daddydraco @wtfdudesblog @honk4emoboyz @fionaapplelover2010 @raiemarine @totonella1 @lilmixed-girl @enjoymyloves @darlingisntit @c1gsaftewhat @lil-sparklqueen @bambisribbon @easybakeoven7 @vviolets444rroses @aesthetic-lyss @dr3wstarkey @sleepmaster69 @yose2123 @aligned-starz @vex-et-soleil (if your name is red, it’s not letting me tag you for some reason, sorry!)

[rimatsu]

After apologies and accusations and nippy words and even more apologies comes the time for honesty. They talk for so long Tommy’s voice dissolves at the edges, a pharyngeal crackle seeping into his confessions. Candor feels a lot like being cored. He sits on Evan’s couch split in half like a pomegranate, red viscera exposed — peeled open for examination. For six months, he had only offered tiny morsels of himself, weighed bites meant to appease hunger and not satiate, but Evan has grown gluttonous in their time apart. Tommy is made to dig past the last vestiges of self-preservation and unearth everything he’d kept buried, exhuming skeletons and old hurt from the ground.

It's exhausting to the bone.

"I feel like I got hit by a bus," Tommy says once a hush of silence settles over the loft, rubbing the heel of his palm over a brow.

Evan smiles at him, and it's a touch rueful. "That's what happens when you condense half-a-year's worth of talking into 3 hours," he reasons, although not unkindly.

Silence eats away at the oxygen again until Evan reaches for Tommy's hand, thumb pressing into the blue rivers of his veins. Surely he can feel Tommy's pulse go seismic at the touch.

"We don't have to rush into anything," Evan starts, tentative and placating like he's speaking to a sighted animal. "I— I'll try to rein it in, go slow."

Bless his heart, Tommy thinks, because he sounds like he believes it. Evan isn't capable of slow. He can do undefined, he can even do superficial, but he's not wired for measured steps — his long legs are more suited for a gallop than a trot. Tommy knew that much by the second date. The absence of moderation had charmed and scared him in equal measure, drawn to it like moth to a flame until he realized he'd have to carry indelible burn scars like relics to his grave.

Tommy is under no illusion, but he gives a terse nod anyway, and then he watches as Evan’s lips part around an inhalation. It's that bolstering little intake of breath that precedes the big questions — the same one Evan took before inviting him to his sister's wedding, the same one he took before asking Tommy to move in with him.

He stares at Evan’s expanding diaphragm and braces himself for impact.

"But I can't— I can't do aimless either, Tommy," Evan barrels on, and squeezes at his wrist like he's holding Tommy in place so he can't physically recoil from his words. "I need to know we're walking in the same direction." Evan pauses for a heartbeat, and when he speaks again, conviction has steeled the timbre of his voice: "I want serious down the line. I want a life together, a shared home, a ring on my finger. Kids, the whole shebang," he continues, firm, no stammering in sight, like he's daring Tommy to dispute any of it again.

His eyes reflect the light overhead like glistening jewels. Their magnetic pull is as strong as the magnitude of Tommy's fears, powerful enough that he's considering living in communion with worry. Tommy swallows around the lump in his throat and pushes down the instinctive urge to run for the windows like the building is at flashover.

"There's no guarantee we'll make it far," he warns, because it bears repeating.

"No, there isn't," Evan agrees, like uncertainty isn't frightening or paralyzing. He's terrifying. "But if you're not gonna try anyway, if you're not buying what I'm selling, you might as well walk out now and spare us both the trouble."

Coming back is allowing Evan to become somatically essential the way an aortic valve is vital — it's giving him the power to deal a finishing blow with no warranty certificate. Tommy has flown through warzones, has dismantled and mended himself back into new shapes, has let fire lick at him and smoke suffocate him, but knocking on Evan’s door again might be the bravest thing he's ever done.

He takes a fortifying breath of his own and then surrenders to a mathematical probability.

"Yeah, I can do trying," he says, and it's a meagre offering — certainly not the type of reassurance that would reassure him, but it's everything Tommy has to give, amorphous and fragile but no less true.

Evan is more benevolent than him, anyway.

"Okay," he accepts, mercy shining in the blue of his irises. "That's good enough for now."

[rosenclaws]

Would You Fall In Love with Me Again || Worst!Logan x Reader

Would you fall in love with me again If you knew all I've done? The things I cannot change Would you love me all the same? I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love

warnings: angsty af, happy ending, sad logan.

wc: 1.5k

a/n: I heard this song and immediately pictured Logan so this fic was cooked up! I hope y'all like it <3 I'd recommend listening to the song while reading or before or after! Its a great musical btw

Logan holds the small piece of paper in his hands. It's been crumpled and flattened countless times. He turns it over in his hands, the faded black in is just bright enough to read. He glances down at it again. Written on it is an address. Laura's words playing over and over in his head.

Find her. She would want to see you.

Would you? Would you want to see him? He's not the same man that you knew. He's not your man. He's not the hero you remember. He's just a broken, tired, old man. He's a coward.

Laura gave him your address shortly after he came to his world. But he never went. He was afraid. This tiny slip of paper would keep him up at night. If the nightmares didn't get to him first than this stupid, little paper did. He debated on throwing it away.

You didn't need him. You were better off without him. But was he? You were his better half. Always had been. Just one look, a meeting. Closure. So he set off to find you one last time.

Each foot step weighs heavy as he marches to your front door. A small cabin tucked away from the the busy town only a few miles away. This is his handiwork. Logan always promised you that he'd build you a house one day, when you two were done with all the X-Men bullshit.

He had already written out the plans back before...before he lost you. Initials are carved into one of the wood boards. His fingers running over the letters, tracing them as his mind floods with memories of you.

He raises his fist and knocks at your door. His ears straining to hear you move behind the wooden door. Though if you didn't answer he couldn't blame you. He's the ghost of the man you once loved standing on your doorstep. He waits and waits and nothing.

His shoulders sag in defeat. What was he thinking? This was stupid. He takes the paper and crumbles it up in his hands, throwing it as far as he could into the woods.

"Pretty sure that's littering." He freezes at the sound of your voice. He knows it's you. He doesn't need to see your face, this voice had been haunting his nightmares for years.

"Logan?" He nearly falls to his knees. His name sounds so sweet coming from your lips. He hasn't heard it in so long. Ever so slowly he turns around, a part of him afraid this is another dream.

"Is it really you?" You're holding a grocery bag, dressed up for the cold weather. He's frozen as you walk up to him. Your eyes shine with tears as your hand reaches out for him.

"Please tell me its you." Your hand cups his face.

Thumb lightly brushing over his face. He looks different. He looks tired. So much pain behind those gorgeous eyes. He melts into your touch. He clenches his fists at his side as he leans his head into your hand.

"My love, how I've missed you." Logan opens his eyes to see the wedding band sitting on your finger. He never got the chance to give that to you.

"Sweetheart...I'm not the same man." He wishes he was. God he wishes he could sweep you up in his arms. Runaway and live in this cabin for all eternity. You smile softly. Your hand leaves his face and he visibly sinks.

"Come inside yeah?" Without thinking he takes the grocery bag out of your hands and follows you inside. There's not much inside.

"Laura told me about you, she sent letters when she came back." You explain as you reach into the fridge and pull out a beer, his favorite.

"I buy a new pack every week, in case you ever showed up." You smile when you talk but Logan can only focus on the bottle in front of him. The guilt eating him alive.

"I'm so sorry." He chokes out.

"For what?" You ask. He looks at you in disbelief, how could you be so forgiving, so welcoming.

"I'm not your husband. I-I'm not the man you fell in love with." He places the beer on the counter. If he closes his eyes he can picture you and him in this little cabin. Be the family you both always wanted. But he's not yours.

"I know you aren't. I'm not a fool Logan. But..." He's not your husband, he's different. He's not a replacement for the man you once loved but your love for Logan was stronger than anything you've ever felt.

"Would you fall in love with me again? You don't know what I've done. I'm not worthy of the love you gave to him." A tear slips down Logan's face.

He sinks to the ground, on his knees. Silently begging to be loved by you once again. The shame of his past chains him to the ground, he can't even look at you.

"What did you do my love?" You cup his face and tilt his head up.

"I lost you, I lost everyone. I can still smell your blood, I can still hear your voice calling to me. But I walked away." He grabs onto your wrists and holds onto them desperately.

"I walked away from you." You wipe away a tear that falls down his cheeks. His normally stoic face crumbles into a mess of despair and loneliness.

"I needed to numb myself. I started drinking, I started killing. I left a trail of blood in my wake." He expects you to cower away from him. To be disgusted with what he's done.

"Once I started, I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. I was so angry, so buried in my grief that the only thing I could feel was rage." The grip on your wrists is firm and tight. Not to the point of pain but he's locked around your hands. Please don't leave him again, please.

"Forgive me." You drop his face and it hangs low, ashamed of what he's revealed to you. You've been waiting for him, all this time only to come and disappoint you.

"If you think that's true, that you're not the same man I feel in love with. Then leave."

"W-What?" He's taken aback.

"You want me to leave?"

"I don't want you to leave but you keep saying you're not the same man. So if you truly believe that, than leave." Logan is stunned to silence.

"No." He says without thinking. He's spent every night missing you, thinking of you. You're here in front of him, it's not the same you but he still loves you. He will always love you.

"I can't leave you, I just found you again I...I won't." He stands up and takes your hand.

"This wedding band, I bought it after out first date. I knew, that I was in love with you but I was so scared to lose you." Tears fall down your face as he presses your hand against his face.

"I ended up losing you anyways."

"He told me that story when he proposed." You say softly. He may be from another universe but he will always be the love of your life.

"You asked if I'd fall for you again, how could I not?" He presses his forehead to yours, noses knocking together as you get to take in the man before you.

"I will always love you. I don't care how you got here, where you're from or what you've done. " You close your eyes as Logan wraps you up in his arms. Holding you close as he whispers apologies.

"No matter how long its been, you're mine." You kiss Logan fiercely, tasting the man who you've longed to hold in your arms again.

He's equally as desperate to feel you. His hands squeezing your sides gently as he walks you back until you hit the wall. Your hands run through his hair, the feeling of your wedding band in his hair only eggs him on.

Silently he thanks the universe for bringing him to you, for your forgiving, loving nature. He would have begged on his knees for a chance like this. He growls when you tug on his hair. His hand slipping up your shirt just to feel your skin. When you finally part he refuses to stay too far.

"Tell me Logan, how long as it been." Your heart aches to think of the pain he's been through. The life he's had to live without anyone to calm his self loathing thoughts.

"I can't even remember." He sounds so tired as he buries his face in your neck.

"It's okay, I'm here now."

"I love you." He whispers, a sense of relief washing over him as he utters the words he thought he'd never get to say again.

You had been waiting for him to come home and you would have waited until the day you too your last breath. He's worth it, all that waiting was worth it for you to call Logan yours.

"I love you too Logan, forever."

[httpscameron]

arranged marriage with simon.

the marriage was arranged by your parents, you didnt even know it was going to happen until a few weeks before the wedding. your first meeting with simon was in a coffee shop. your mum just told you to go there at ten am to meet him there.

he stood out like a sore thumb. his hair was messy, a dirty blond but short, he was sat in a booth with a cup of tea in a to-go cup. a look of exhaustion on his face and a five oclock shadow of a beard. he had eyebags that were deep but his eyes were a soft blue. simon wore dark clothes, probably to keep himself looked at atleast as possible.

you took a breath of nerves before getting a coffee yourself before going over. you stood opposite him. “simon riley?” you asked him just to confirm really that he was infact your husband to be.

he just nodded “yeah i am.” he didnt bother asking for your name because well youre obviously his future wife he knows your name. “i didnt ask for this you to be my mrs, so dont blame me.” he tells you a in mutter. his voice was husky, a smoker and clearly a heavy one at that.

after that visit you didnt meet again until your wedding, you couldnt really class it as a wedding. you both went to county hall and signed the documents and you had your stuff moved in that night.

it was awkward, very awkward. that night the two of you stayed in silence. you both agreed to share a bed because thats what married people did. he was in a pair of joggers and a dark tank top. you were in your usual pyjamas. both of you as far away as possible in the bed. the tv was on playing the eleven oclock news. once the show finished you both said your good nights and that was it.

life went on like that for a few months, simple hellos and simple mutters of how are you. it was terrible. he was a good man at that, he allowed you to quit your job and the two of you lived on his income, you had unlimited cash and could do as you please. however the one thing you werent allowed to do was cheat. it was a basic thing you both agreed to early on as it wasnt fair on the other no matter how much you both disliked the marriage.

simon went on deployment, it was long three months without speaking (like that really bothered you). he returned late into the night, you were asleep in your bed, sleeping as snug as you could.

he kicked his boots off at the bottom of the bed and his clothes stripping to his boxers, as he climbed into bed, his arms wrapped around you quickly. waking you up. “simon?” you said quickly.

“shh birdie i need this.” he huffed, his head going into the crook of your neck, sniffing your hair which still smelt like that shampoo you used. you just being there settled him instantly. he fell asleep instantly too. you fell asleep too, the warmth of his arms was somewhat suprisingly nice too.

after that night you both had a silent agreement to sleep cuddling, even if some nights your head was on his chest or you both spooned. it was nice actually, being close to your husband.

the two of you eventually agreed on going on date nights, simple stuff twice a month even if it was getting a take out and watching a film and well it was perfect. settling into routines with him that you never thought would happen. being able to fall in love with your husband.

he thought of you as his salvation, your relationship bloomed into one of love and adoration to each other, spending early mornings and late nights together. simon wouldnt be the man he was without you, even if it was a rocky start it still happened. you still both fell in love and had the happy ending neither of you expected.

masterlist

[dreamauri]

♪ —𝗖𝗔𝗡'𝗧 𝗕𝗘 𝗙𝗔𝗥 lando norris x  girlfriend! reader (fluff) fic summary . . . the world might just end if Lando is 0.0001 centimetre away from you, it's his perfect excuse to stick to your side (780 words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

Lando Norris was always a little . . . extra when it came to affection, but recently, he’d taken clinginess to a whole new level. The 2024 Formula One season has come to an end and the boy couldn’t seem to tolerate being more than a few centimetres away from you for even a second. And it was adorable, if not a little exhausting.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, and the two of you were lounging on the couch. You’d been absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, a habit you’d fallen into whenever Lando was in one of his needy moods. Of course, "needy" here was just his cute way of saying, "I can't live without your touch, don't ever leave me."

You sighed, setting your phone down beside you and stretching an arm above your head. "Alright, Lando, I’m gonna get up for a minute. I need a snack," you announced, attempting to gently slip your hand out of his, which had been securely holding yours for the past fifteen minutes.

Lando’s head immediately snapped up from your shoulder, a puppy-doll-eyes-like pout already forming on his lips. “What? No!” His fingers curled around yours more tightly. “Stay. Please?”

“Lando, I’m hungry,” you tried, gently pulling away again, but he wasn’t having it. He threw a dramatic arm across your body, pulling you back toward him with a grumble.

“You’re being rude,” he whined, squishing his face into the side of your neck. “I can’t let you go that far.” His voice was all soft and pitiful now, and his grip tightened again.

You laughed, trying to free yourself. “I just need five minutes, Lando. I’ll be right back!”

“You’re breaking my heart,” he murmured dramatically, pressing his cheek against your shoulder and sighing deeply, like he was about to start composing a song about lost love.

You tried to get up again, but this time, he didn’t let go. Instead, he slid into your lap, his head resting comfortably against your stomach as if this was his rightful place. “Can’t you just stay with me for, like, two seconds more?” His voice was small, almost childlike.

You giggled, running your fingers through his hair, something he adored. “You’re such a baby, Lando,” you teased, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“I’m not a baby,” he muttered, though the way he nuzzled into your lap said otherwise. “I just like being close to you.”

You smiled and stroked his hair, shifting slightly so you could grab a nearby blanket. But as soon as you moved even an inch, he whined, a noise that could’ve been mistaken for a distressed puppy. “Where are you going now?”

“I’m just . . . making us more comfortable.” You wrapped the blanket around both of you, trying to get cozy, but Lando wasn’t content with anything less than full body contact. He scooted closer, practically climbing into your side, laying his head on your chest now, his arms wrapped around your waist.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the fond smile spreading across your face. “Lando, you are impossible.”

“You love it,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. His voice was muffled from the warmth of your chest, but it didn’t hide the mischievous grin on his face.

“I do,” you admitted softly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “But I’m not sure how much more I can take of you trying to suffocate me with affection.”

Lando giggled, clearly pleased by your admission. “I don’t care. You’re mine, and I’m never letting go. Not even when you’re asleep.”

“Lando, you literally steal my blanket at night,” you sighed, but there was no malice in your voice.

He gave a dramatic sigh in return, finally giving you a bit of space but only so he could rest his head on your lap, looking up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. “I can’t sleep without you. You’re my favorite pillow.”

“I thought I was your favorite human,” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

“Exactly,” he grinned, his arms creeping around your waist once more. “So, you’re my favorite pillow. And my favorite person. And my favorite everything.”

You chuckled, your heart melting as you leaned down and kissed him. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you stay glued to me . . . just for a bit longer.”

“Thank you,” he said dramatically, resting his cheek on your lap like it was his throne. “I’ll never leave you alone again . . . well, except for when I’m racing.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, knowing full well that even then, he'd find some way to sneak his hand into yours during cool-downs or post-race interviews. Because Lando? He never really let go.

[iwashie]

𝙄 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙭

Imagine Sevika breaking up with you; breaking your heart again as she sees your eyes fill with tears as you grabbed only a jacket and left her apartment, slamming the door on your way out and never coming back. She was sure she was doing the right thing. It was the best for you two, especially for you to stay away from problems. 

She had to get used to the new routine of coming home late at night and entering an empty apartment without your presence welcoming her home with a kiss, and the table set with delicious food, without your laugh and warmth, calling her by the pet names. 

While you sank in sadness, crying every night, thinking where you two went wrong, missing Sevika, she spent nights on end at the brothel, filling your empty space with another face, body, warmth, kiss and touches, just to still feel empty and lonely. But she faced her decision without regrets, without getting in touch, avoiding all the places you two could run into each other. 

She had to send your stuff back through Ran since you refused to go to her place to pick it up; all of your things were boxed in your living room when you came home from work. That was a definitive end to what you two were. 

That night, Sevika almost got kicked out of the brothel because of the chaotic situation she was in; sobbing and drunkenly calling for you, throwing punches at the men. 

You grow used to the new life, accepting her decision and moving on with your life, also avoiding all the places you could see her. Spending months without seeing each other, quietly living the new single life.

Just to one day while Sevika was strolling through the streets she listened to your laugh coming from nearby, and her heart stopped for a minute, the feeling of miss filling her. She followed your voice, hoping to see you after all this time, and make small talk with you; after all, you’re a Zaun citizen and she cares for her people. She stopped and her smirk died when saw you laughing, receiving a bouquet of flowers and getting hit on by another woman.

Sevika felt like hit by a punch, seeing you accept the flowers and touch the woman. Her world slowly crumbling at her feet as she felt a grip on her heart and her head filled with your image welcoming her home, your smiling face, your laugh, your shine eyes, your touches and kisses, your voice calling her and your body moving inside her apartment, dancing in the kitchen with her jazz disco collection, your body dancing on her hands while you two made love. She could feel your body glued on hers, your arms and legs tangled on her body while your face is crushed against her chest, and all the domestic moments you two lived. All of it disappears while she’s alone in her room, your scent long gone, the apartment empty and dark without your shining presence there, making her happy and loved.

The memories hitting her differently.

Sevika felt triggered knowing that someone out there is buying you roses, possibly making you happy the way she couldn’t, that you moved on like you had enough, quitting her like a cigarette. And now she’s six feet deep seeing roses everywhere, killing her that someone is stealing her girl for good and she can do nothing about it. 

Sevika was in front of your door, banging on it, hoping not to see that woman with you, and when you opened, your face rapidly changing, she was speechless for a while. What was she doing at your door late at night, maybe drunk, holding a bouquet of flowers and looking at you with anticipation, her words stuck to her throat. 

“Think I got it bad if i’m honest, thought that I was good, turns out that I’m a little far from it. You didn’t call me. You moved on… And I am still stuck in the past, overthinking my actions and words, they were all lies.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest, and Sevika gulped, her eyes scanning everywhere just to stop at your pretty face. She opened her mouth and closed again, gesturing her arms.

“I saw you with that woman and I… I went crazy. I was a fool to break up with you. I can’t live without you… I’m so fucking empty without you. Everything reminds me of you and I just think about the good time we had together. I… Doll, I need you.”

You uncrossed your arms, stepped outside your house and grabbed the bouquet she extended to you, smelling the flowers; your favorite flowers and your perfume that never came from her house. 

“Baby, please… give me another chance.” She begged, almost kneeling in front of you. “Give us another chance. Please.” 

You shook your head, a little sigh escaping your mouth as you passed the bouquet to one arm and with the other pulled her to you. Your lips touching in a soft kiss as her hands find its place on your waist, bringing you closer. “I hate you, Sevika.”

“But I love you, doll. And now you’re stuck with me forever.” She said, giving you a lingering peck and pushing you inside your house, closing the door with her foot.

@iwashie 2025, please do not translate, modify or republis my works

[rafedaddy01]

Sleeping over at your best friends place

Walking into rafes office in the house in the middle of the night (hes still working)

Stripping out of your pjs infront of him and telling him "either you f me or I am gonna start screaming for help"

Rafe telling you over and over how much he hates you as he is thrusting into you

"If you hate me soo much , why are you so hard?"

When hes about to pull out "pull out and I will scream for help"

-

“You have two choices,” you say calmly, letting your clothes fall to the floor. “Either you give me what I want, or I scream loud enough to wake the whole house. Imagine what your wife would think… or worse, your daughter.”

“Fuck you,” Rafe mutters under his breath, his jaw tightening as he reluctantly pushes himself up from his office chair. “Get over here.”

He grabs you by the waist, his grip firm as he sweeps the clutter off his desk with one hand. Pinning you down against the cold surface, he leans in close, his voice low and dripping with venom. “I hate you so much.”

He freezes for a moment, his breath heavy as he hovers over you. The tension crackles in the air like a live wire, his anger barely masking something darker, something undeniable. You smirk, your voice dripping with mockery as you tilt your head to meet his heated gaze. "If you hate me so much," you purr, letting the words linger, "then why is your dick hard?"

“Fuck you, Y/N,” he growls through clenched teeth, his frustration spilling over as his grip on your waist tightens. His eyes blaze with a mix of anger and something he refuses to name, the war between his words and actions written all over his face.

A smug smirk spreads across your lips as you get exactly what you want. Your fingers trail to his belt, undoing the buckle with deliberate precision before pulling it free from the loops. The sound of his zipper sliding down fills the charged air as your hand slips inside, palming him through the fabric. His head falls back, a low groan escaping his lips, raw and unrestrained. When his eyes meet yours again, the anger has melted away, replaced by an unmistakable hunger. Without hesitation, he frees himself and thrusts into you, drawing a shared moan from both of you as the tension finally snaps.

His hips slam into you at a relentless pace, each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs. His mouth finds your chest, lips hot and desperate as he licks, sucks, and nips at your sensitive skin. "That's it," you cry out, your voice breaking with each movement. "Just like that-don't stop!"

His bangs fall messily in front of his face, damp with sweat from the force of his movements. They cling to his forehead, and your fingers instinctively reach up to brush them away, exposing his flushed features. Your eyes meet, and the truth is written all over him-he's enjoying this far more than he's willing to admit. His pupils are blown wide, his nostrils flaring with every squeeze your pussy gives around his cock, dragging a guttural groan from deep within him.

The room is consumed by the sounds of your ragged breaths mingling with his, the wet squelch of your pussy taking him in over and over, and the relentless creak of the desk rocking beneath you with every thrust. Each sound only fuels the intensity, amplifying the raw, desperate energy between you.

The desk digging into your back was sure to leave bruises by tomorrow, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All that mattered was Rafe Cameron, fucking you raw against it, fulfilling the forbidden desire you'd harbored since the day you befriended his daughter.

You met each of his thrusts with equal intensity, your body pushing back against him as you spread your legs wider, giving him more. His growl rumbled through the room, and his grip on your hips tightened, his movements becoming rougher as he drove into you.

"Rafe," you moaned, your voice desperate. "I'm gonna cum-don't stop, please."

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he watches you move beneath him, each thrust deep and relentless. His breathing becomes more erratic, his eyes dark with desire as he feels your body clenching around him. "Fuck," he gasps, his voice thick with lust. "This pussy is squeezing me so good." His words are barely a whisper, but they send a jolt of heat through you, making the moment feel even more intense.

His hand came up to your throat. His possessiveness showing, he wrapped his thick digits around and squeezed. “Such a good girl for daddy”

“But also such a naughty girl for manipulating me into fucking you”

Your gaze locks with his, intensity building between you, as your fingers trail down your body, finding your clit, your touch deliberate and teasing.

“Are you close to cumming daddy?” You teased him as you felt his cock twitch inside you.

The word slips from his lips in a low, strained breath as he feels the tension building between you, his body reacting instinctively to the pressure mounting. His grip on you tightens, his jaw clenched, and his eyes flicker with a mix of frustration and desire. “Shit,” he mutters, unable to hold back any longer.

“Uh uh, I want your cum inside me”

Rafes about to pull out until you speak. Your legs wrap around him tighter and hold him in place as your eyes challenge him. “Fuck, your such a manipulative bitch”

Unable to pull out, he starts thrusting faster. Chasing his high.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”.

“Yes, right there!”

He grits his teeth, his body trembling as the wave of sensation hits him. “Holy shit,” he breathes out, his voice strained with surprise and intensity, unable to keep the reaction from escaping.

You feel the warmth of him till you up. Twitching as you both come down from your highs. A feeling of mixed emotions settled in the air between you. Rafe knows he’s pussy whipped and you know that you have him in your control. This is going to be a fun game.

He slowly pulls out of you as he redresses without saying a single word. He runs his fingers through his soaked hair a few times as he watches you still sitting on his table, spread out and not having a care in the world about his own cum dripping out of you and all over his desk.

You slip a finger in between your slit and gather both your juices, holding out for rafe. And of course he complies, leaning in and sucking your fingers clean as you call him a good boy.

“Such a good boy” you rub his cheek before standing up and redressing.

Rafe looks at you, his gaze intense but quiet, a hint of something deeper in his eyes. “Thank you,” he says, his voice low, almost inaudible. There’s an unmistakable edge to it, a sense that he’s already hooked, addicted to whatever it is between you two.

You smirk, watching the shift in his expression, the way his posture changes as the realization hits him. The vulnerability, the need in his eyes—it’s all there, and you’ve got him right where you want him. “That’s more like it, Rafe,” you say with a teasing tone, your voice dripping with satisfaction. The words hang in the air, a reminder that you’ve got control now, and he’s already hooked.

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his tone low and serious as he looks at you. There’s an undeniable intensity in his gaze, a mixture of caution and something more possessive. “Not a word of this to anyone,” he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He’s clearly aware of the consequences if anyone finds out, but the underlying tension suggests he might not mind keeping this between you two, for now.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10 @writingroom21 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @obxrafeandjj

[its-avalon-08]

the paths we didn't take (cl16)

part4!

multipart story! part 1 part 2 part 3

Summary : Years ago, Charles Leclerc and Y/N promised to let each other go—for his dreams, for her freedom. No calls, no texts, just memories they buried deep. But when fate reunites them in Monaco, old scars and unresolved feelings resurface. Some loves are unforgettable, but can they find their way back, or is it too late?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

Chapter 4: "The Ones We Couldn’t Reach"

Charles’ First Formula 2 Victory

The champagne sprayed everywhere, the crowd was deafening, and Charles couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He had done it. He had won his first race in Formula 2, and for a moment, the world was perfect.

The team rushed around him, clapping him on the back, shouting praises, but in the back of his mind, one person was missing. He’d won this for himself, for his family, for all the sacrifices he'd made, but as he stood there, in the middle of the celebration, his heart clenched. He wanted to text her, to tell Y/N how it felt, to hear her voice again, to have her say, “I knew you could do it.”

He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen for a moment, his finger hovering over her name. But then he remembered. They hadn’t spoken in years. They had both moved on, at least, that’s what they told themselves.

��Charles!” a teammate yelled, pulling him back into the celebration. “Come on, we need a picture!”

With a heavy heart, Charles shoved his phone back into his pocket, forcing the ache away. “Yeah,” he muttered, smiling for the cameras. You’ll always be my first love, he thought. But this is the life I have now.

Y/N’s College Acceptance Letter

Y/N sat in the library, her fingers trembling as she stared at the email that had just come through. The acceptance letter. The one she had worked for all these years. The one she had dreamed of when she was still in high school, when the world seemed like it could be anything.

She was in. The prestigious university in New York. The campus. The future she had worked so hard to shape for herself.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. This was her moment, a moment of triumph. But as she sat there, in the quiet of the library, the first thing she wanted to do was text Charles. To tell him how far she had come, to hear him tell her how proud he was, to hear his voice.

She quickly grabbed her phone, staring at his contact name for a long time. She remembered the way his fingers used to slide over the screen to text her, the way he used to say her name in that soft, familiar way.

But now? Now there was nothing. Just a blank screen.

She set the phone down, sighing deeply. “I did it,” she whispered to herself, but the joy felt incomplete. She wished he was here to share it.

But she had promised herself she wouldn’t reach out. She hadn’t in years, and she wasn’t going to start now.

Charles at the Formula 1 Test Drive

Charles stood on the pit wall, his eyes scanning the track as the sound of the Formula 1 car roared past. His heart was pounding in his chest. This was it. The test drive. The moment that could change everything.

The team had been so supportive, and it felt like a dream to finally be here, but a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was missing. He knew who it was. It was Y/N.

She had always been there, even when he didn’t realize it. From their childhood to their high school years, she had been the one to remind him who he was. She had believed in him when he didn’t, and now, standing here on the verge of making it to the highest level of motorsport, he wished he could share this moment with her.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he almost jumped. He reached for it, hopeful, only to find it was a message from his teammate.

He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the phone. He couldn't call her now. It wasn’t right. They had moved on. They had their lives. She had hers, and he had his.

But as the car came in for another lap, he found himself holding the phone, wanting to call her anyway. He imagined hearing her voice again. “You did it, Charles. I knew you would.”

But he pressed the phone back into his pocket, letting the moment pass.

Y/N’s Breakup

Y/N sat on the steps of her dorm, staring at her phone screen. She had just gone through one of the most painful breakups of her life. She hadn’t expected it, but somehow, over the months, it had all fallen apart.

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t bitter. She just felt empty.

The first thing she wanted to do was call Charles. She needed his comfort, his steady presence, the way he always knew how to make her feel better, how to make her laugh when the world felt too heavy.

She stared at his contact. Her finger hovered over the message box. I miss you, she thought. I could use your strength right now.

But she didn’t text him. She couldn’t.

She had told herself years ago that they would move on. They had to. She had her life, and he had his. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to drag up the past. So, instead, she just sighed, turning the phone over in her hand. “You’re doing fine on your own,” she whispered to herself, even though she didn’t believe it.

But she tried to believe it.

Charles After His First Grand Prix

Charles sat in the back of the car, the scent of champagne still hanging in the air, the sound of his team celebrating in the distance. He had just finished his first Grand Prix, and he had come close—so close to the podium. The race was over, but the adrenaline still buzzed in his veins.

And yet, there was an emptiness in his chest. He had achieved something incredible. Formula 1, the dream he had been working toward for years, was finally within reach.

But as he stood there, he realized the one thing he wanted most was to text her. To tell Y/N how it felt. To hear her say, “I knew you could do it, Charles.”

Instead, he sat down, exhausted, staring at the phone in his hand. The temptation was there. He could text her. He could reach out.

But he stopped himself.

No, he thought. She has her own life now.

He typed out a message to his teammate instead, letting the feeling of accomplishment wash over him as he pushed the thought of Y/N away.

Y/N’s Graduation

Y/N stood at the podium, staring out at the sea of faces, the diploma in her hand. She had done it. She had graduated with honors from her dream college. Her parents were beaming, her friends cheering, but as she stood there, her heart ached.

She looked out over the crowd, almost expecting to see Charles standing there, watching her. She could almost hear him say, “I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

But he wasn’t there.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t text him. She had promised herself she wouldn’t reach out. But it was so hard, especially in moments like this. When everything felt so perfect, so bittersweet.

She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the moment where she could share this with him. “I did it, Charles. I did it just like we always dreamed.”

But she couldn’t. She opened her eyes, blinking back the tears, and smiled at her family instead. She couldn’t let them see the pain, the longing, the piece of her heart that still belonged to him.

In the years that followed, both Charles and Y/N continued on their separate journeys, achieving their dreams and living their lives. They stopped reaching for the phone, stopped calling, stopped texting. They never mentioned each other to their friends, as if doing so would break the fragile illusion that they had moved on.

But deep down, in the quietest moments, in their happiest and saddest times, there was always a part of them that wanted to pick up the phone and just say, I miss you.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

taglist : @jenxjar @noam-rosier-icr @prttylight @gluecksbaerchieee

@janeh22 @tobucina @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @weekendlusting

@wisestarfishbouquet @ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins

@vyctorya @mel164  @dazecrea @lol6sposts @raynetargaryan2

@ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins @vyctorya @f1fantasys

[mononijikayu]

fairy of shampoo — ryomen sukuna.

“No, I doubt that.” he murmured, his voice dropping further as his eyes trailed over you, taking in every detail of his creation on your body. “I didn’t outdo myself. You did. You made it come alive. Well, you always have.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of the fabric near your shoulder, the touch light yet searing. “This was always meant for you. No one else could’ve worn it like this.” There was a beat of silence, heavy and charged, before he added, “Do you know how hard it was to sit out there and watch everyone look at you like that?” You raised a brow, your smile teasing now. “Jealous already, ‘kuna?”

GENRE: alternate universe - fashion world au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, love at first sight, co-workers to lovers, romance, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, p to v sex, backstage/greenroom sex, orgasm, humor, pet names (angel, sweetie, etc), devotion, possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, fashion designer! ryomen sukuna, super model! reader;

WORD COUNT: 5k words.

NOTE: i wrote the first part of this while on instagram live and continued to write, but then i forgot to do a live about this again and passed out from more cold medicine. the cold weather isn't really helping my case either. but im feeling much better now!!! though, i kept changing titles too, cause im indecisive. but of course txt saves the day with fairy of shampoo.

i adore this song a lot. also, if you are curious, this was something i was imagining for a while as an au to concubine reader and sukuna. like in another live, he would be a former underground fighter who fell for model reader. in any case, i hope you enjoy it. i love you all!!! see you on the 10th!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

HE DOESN’T THINK HE’S EVER SEEN SOMEONE LIKE YOU BEFORE. He felt his breath hitch, the steady rhythm in his chest faltering as if the very air had thickened, demanding more effort to draw in.

The crowd was roaring around him, but the noise seemed muted, far away, like a distant wave crashing on an unseen shore. All he could focus on was you, the commanding force you carried with every step.

It wasn’t just the way you moved — it was the raw, magnetic energy emanating from you. Each step struck the floor like a declaration, a drumbeat echoing through the cavern of his mind, drowning out every other thought.

He tried to remind himself to blink, to exhale, to ground himself in something other than the overwhelming pull of you, but it was no use. When it comes to you, there was no winning.

When you reached the center of the stage, you turned slowly, your gaze sweeping over the audience like a stormfront rolling in. Then, for the briefest moment, your eyes landed on his.

He felt like a man struck by lightning. The fire in your gaze seared through him, sharp and unyielding, leaving no room for the walls he’d so carefully built. He was laid bare, every defense stripped away, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t mind.

As quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and you turned your attention elsewhere, leaving him in the wreckage of his composure. His heart was racing, pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape, and he could only wonder how someone could hold so much power without even trying.

Control? Composure? He realized now how fragile those concepts truly were.

Everything about you screamed majesty. It was obvious you knew what you were doing and it was obvious that you were doing it with so much passion, so much pride, so much expertise. If it was not clear now, it would be obvious to all now that it was you who ran this world. 

And you had no problem trying to show that to everyone. Everything about what you were doing could only exude wonder people cannot explain. Especially when you walked. Ryomen Sukuna knew this from the first time he saw you walk. 

He could somehow remember the first time he’s seen you walk on a runway. He wasn’t yet the person he was at this time. Ryomen Sukuna remembers that he was a rough man, a brutish man. Someone whose hands were at one point made for destruction more than they were for anything relating to creation. 

These hands were born for nothing good at all. These were born from nothing and then for violence. For most of his life, he was sure that they were made for nothing else but pouring blood on the concrete in rough fistful bouts than they were for wanting to understand the language of fabrics and colors. 

Sukuna was all too certain that he wasn’t someone who he himself thought was even worthy of being in your presence then. You wouldn’t have liked the man he was then.

If he didn’t, then you would certainly not like him too. But he liked to think that this was the moment his life changed. He could remember it so very clearly, that moment. 

He could recall it all, if you asked. Every little detail. His bloody hands fumbled with the remote control, the echo of his fingers pressing the buttons whiplashed as he tried to find something worth watching. Nothing was worth watching, nothing was worth looking forward to. One after another, the button pressed only to lead to disappointment. 

Then, he stopped. 

You were the first thing he saw. He blinked as he found himself staring at this moment. It was like you owned the runway. Your long silver stilettos click and clack across the steps,the fine texture of the shimmering silver dress blossomed like moonlight right in front of him. It was like an epiphany when he watched you come towards him through the screen. 

Your bright blossoming eyes narrowed sharply as you stopped at the center, posing masterfully for the audiences and then for the cameras. He could feel the hairs on his body stand up as he walked closer to the screen. Almost a second after, you had smiled at the crowd. 

For a moment, Ryomen Sukuna had thought that this belonged to him. Your smile, your gaze, your pose. He had felt like you had been longing for him.  Calling for him to come and join you. Beckoning him closer by your side. Almost as though you were commanding him like the goddess of the moon you were in that moment. 

He wished that moment had lasted much longer. But as you finished your moment, it was your turn to walk away. Disappointment slowly seeped into him as he watched you go, the train of your metallic silver gown flowing behind you like moonshine withdrawing from the slithering darkness. 

You were so beautiful, so bright and gorgeous. For a moment, he didn’t even think you were real. He couldn’t believe that such a being like you could ever exist. He couldn’t believe that such a being like you could ever bless him with your wonders, even for just a moment. From that moment, he was awestruck. 

But it’s not like Ryomen Sukuna could not help himself in wanting you. You were life itself for him from that moment. And he couldn’t help but live in the world you made. He could not help but want to know you. To know more of your wonder. To be there in the room where it happened, watching you command the world with each and every step only you could make. 

One could call him insane for believing that this was the moment that changed his life. That you, who he had never known, would ever change his life. Yet, it was true. You had made him your most adoring servant.

And he had made you his master, his lifelong muse. He knew that he didn’t have any skills to dress you, his goddess, just yet. But if there was something Ryomen Sukuna knew, it was that everything can be learned. And you would guide him how.

He could recall how he stood up from his couch that night and washed his bloody hands on his sink. He cleaned every bit of it. By the time he finished, he found his hands clean enough. And with that he felt satisfied.

He dried his hands with the dry cloth, watching the bloody water drain down the sink. He knew that he had to have clean hands, for you. He can’t dress you if his hands are dirty with blood. He won’t soil you. No, he won’t soil his goddess. 

The click of the cameras brought him back to reality. You stopped at the center of the runway and posed. You look at the side dramatically, your jaw sharp against the glow of stage lights. You had fun as you brushed the loose hair back on your ear, trying to showcase the fine sapphire earrings encrusted with diamonds.  

People were in awe as you stood there, the leather covered fingers tracing your beautiful face as you showcased the fine red silky flow of the shimmering strapped dress bejeweled in fine rubies and sapphires and its majestic slit at the hem forcing your fine leg forward, the heel of your shoe just as magnificent with its intricate design. 

Everything about it was a perfect fit — as it should. Ryomen Sukuna could only think to himself about how proud he was that it looked good on you. Red was certainly made to be your color. The color he had so loved, the color he knew you had come to love just as much when you looked into his scarlet eyes too. 

Sukuna’s smirk deepened as he watched the crowd, their collective awe painting a smug satisfaction across his sharp features. They didn’t just see a veteran model on the catwalk; they saw his vision, his devotion, his muse brought to life. They saw life form before their eyes.

It wasn’t just about the clothing, no. It was about you, his precious muse. You carried his work like no one else could, not just wearing the piece but embodying it, giving it a presence that no other model could match. Every step you took whispered of elegance, screamed of confidence, and radiated the unshakable power he had designed into every stitch.

He leaned further back in his chair, one leg draped casually over the other, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against his arm. Sukuna’s mind flickered back to the nights spent creating the masterpiece you now wore. The hours he poured over sketches, fabrics, and details, all with you in mind. The fire in his chest when inspiration struck, always tied to the thought of you — your silhouette, your essence, your wonder.

It was a dangerous thing, he knew, to let himself feel this much for anyone. It was even more grievous when one thinks about how crazy he is, obsessed with you. But as he watched you claim the stage as though you owned it, as though you owned him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. If anyone deserved his best, it was you.

And now, seeing you carry with pride what he had envisioned, the culmination of his work, his smirk twisted into something softer, something almost reverent. His scarlet eyes could only glint with a mixture of pride and possessiveness.

Because this wasn’t just a fashion show, not to him. This was his world laid bare, his unspoken devotion stitched into fabric, and you, his muse, standing at the center of it all. And he could care less about anything else. This was what mattered. Nothing more will satisfy him than you.

Let them look. He thought, his scarlet gaze darkening further. Let them be captivated. 

But they should know this — the vision, the brilliance, the art? 

It was his. And so were you.

And you just as well knew it too.

He was yours too, after all.

The moment the show ended,  Ryomen Sukuna slipped through the mass of the crowd, his stride purposeful as he made his way backstage. The buzz of the event, the voices, and the clinking of glasses faded into white noise as he navigated through assistants, models, and photographers. 

They all parted instinctively for him — whether out of respect, fear, or both, he didn’t care. Why should he care at this moment? He had something else much more important in mind, after all. Nothing can compare to that, to you.

He found you standing alone, the chaos of the backstage swirling around but never touching you. You were a picture of composed beauty, your magnificent  features illuminated by the soft backstage lighting. The masterpiece you wore still clung to you, the fabric shimmering as though it held its own light.

You didn’t notice him at first, too engrossed in adjusting one of the intricate details of the outfit, but the shift in the air told you he was there. You looked up, your tender gaze locking with his, and in that instant, the world seemed to narrow in this cage you had always made for just the two of you. Your lips perk up into a small sly smile.

Sukuna let the door swing shut behind him, the sound muffled by the hum of the outside world. The room felt smaller now, the space between you crackling with an intensity that mirrored the one you’d commanded onstage. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms casually, though the smirk on his lips betrayed the hunger in his gaze.

“Stunning, as always.” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “But then, you already know that.”

You tilted your head, meeting his smirk with a soft smile of your own. “The design does most of the work. You outdid yourself, Sukuna.”

His smirk deepened as he pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you in a few slow steps. You shake your head at him, your smile getting bigger too. He was about to have another one of his antics, for certain.

“No, I doubt that.” he murmured, his voice dropping further as his eyes trailed over you, taking in every detail of his creation on your body. “I didn’t outdo myself. You did. You made it come alive. Well, you always have.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of the fabric near your shoulder, the touch light yet searing. “This was always meant for you. No one else could’ve worn it like this.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy and charged, before he added, “Do you know how hard it was to sit out there and watch everyone look at you like that?”

You raised a brow, your smile teasing now. “Jealous already, ‘kuna?”

His chuckle was dark and low, the kind that sent shivers down your spine. “Jealous? Maybe. But more than that…” His hand slid from the fabric to your jaw, tilting your beautiful face up to his. 

His scarlet eyes burned with something raw, something possessive. “I just wanted to remind you to come by and tell you, like I always do. All of this, the applause, the stares, the admiration... none of it matters. Because at the end of the day, you’re mine. No one else can have you but me.”

The air between you thickened, you could feel your pulse quickening as his blunt words hung in the space. His thumb brushed against your tender cheek, and soon enough, his face echoed a small smirk against his beautiful lips, one that you were certain was softer this time. But of course, you were just as certain that it wasn’t less intense.

“And don’t you dare forget it, hm?” he added, his voice barely above a whisper, before leaning in to close the distance between you.

“I will never forget.” You hummed back to him, just as sweetly. Just as venomous. “Just as you never forget that I am the only muse for you, hm?”

He laughs, the tone rich and eager as his eyes narrowed at you. “And when have I ever forgotten that, hm? Ten years of my life given to you so far, and you’ll have the rest of it too. You don’t have to worry about me leaving you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh aloud this time. “Hm, then you are my prisoner now.”

“I always have been….. I am always willing to be, sweetie.”

He grabbed your hand, his grip firm but not forceful, and guided you through the bustling backstage chaos. You followed without question, the dress flowing into the brush of wind as you made your place elsewhere. You could feel your heart racing as he weaved through the narrow halls with singular focus, while still holding onto you, no matter what.

He didn’t stop until the two of you reached your green room. With a swift glance to ensure no one had followed, he shut the door behind you, the lock clicking into place with a finality that made your breath hitch. You looked at him and then he looked back at you, almost as though time had frozen between the two of you.

The room was quieter here, dimly lit and far removed from the noise of the show. The faint hum of the loud music leaked through the walls, but it only added to the charged atmosphere between you. Ryomen Sukuna took a breath before starting to get closer to you, his intense scarlet gaze pinning you to the spot. 

It was as though your throat had all but closed. You felt yourself standing there as he made his way to you and then stopped. The space between the two of you had all but evaporated into nothing. You pursed your lip into a line and then shook your head into a small smile.

His scarlet glint lingered, locking with your gaze, a mischievous gleam dancing within his eyes. Slowly, he lowered himself before you, hands deftly reaching for the ties that bound you to your heels. The heels he had designed just for you.

You knew you could do it yourself. But he refused to let you do it, even when he has to get to you later on, he would get some sort of way when he didn’t do it for you. For so long now, you have never been able to take your shoes off by yourself. He wouldn’t allow it.

After all, it was a ritual he insisted on. It was something he had done even when he was first designing clothes tailored just for you. And you had long stopped having any qualms about it.

Every time he did this for you, whether after the runaway or some time else, there was always this calm. It was always a quiet moment of devotion woven into the fabric of your bond each and every single time.

An angel like you shouldn’t have to stoop to something like this, sweetie. He had said back then, his lips curving into a playful smile as his attention remained on your feet. Only devils like me should kneel, taking on tasks as lowly as this.

Now, as his fingers worked to free you from the delicate binds, he couldn’t help but hum. You could feel his mumblings be rough and edged with something untamed and all at once, the warmest of spring days and tenderest of breaths. You obediently look upon him as he carefully removes them from your feet. 

“You’ve been driving me insane all night, sweetie.” He set your shoes aside, tucking them where they wouldn’t catch another soul’s attention. His scarlet eyes roved up to yours, filled with longing. “Everything you do, even now... You just woo me to no end.”

You shivered under his gaze, feeling the intensity of his words wrap around you like a warm, intoxicating haze. His hands, calloused yet deliberate, brushed against your ankles as he adjusted your footing, ensuring you could stand without strain. Even in such a simple gesture, his care for you felt all-consuming.

“You have always imprisoned me, you know that? But tonight…..you really have mastered it.” he snickers, his tone dipping lower, velvet and gravel in equal measure. 

“I have.” You muttered back at him, smiling at him as sweetly as you could. “Don’t you like it that way? Your muse gives you everything, artist of mine.”

“I did. I always do. I loved tonight most, I should say.” His lips curled into a smirk that sent a rush of heat through your chest. “Every glance, every move—it’s like you’ve cast some wicked spell. And here I am, completely at your mercy.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, his hands still lingering just a moment too long on your legs. The proximity was enough to make your heart race, yet he stopped short of closing the distance, his teasing nature keeping you on edge.

“And the worst part?” he added, his voice softening but losing none of its weight. “I don’t even mind. Your devil craves more—he begs, over and over, to be your fool willingly.”

He stood, fluid and graceful, the motion commanding yet intimate. Your eyes blossomed as you looked towards him, unable to move. You felt as though you were being consumed by him. You felt like you were consumed by his wonder, by his soul, by his everything. Like you always have been. Like you always want to be.

His fine lips hovered near yours, daring but unyielding, as though he relished the tension he had so masterfully wrought. Every second seemed to stretch into eternity, leaving you breathless, waiting, wanting—until finally, he whispered back to you. 

“Tell me, my angel... How long are you going to keep me like this?”

Before you could respond, his calloused hands were on you. One sliding around your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck. His precious lips crashed against yours with a hunger that left no room for hesitation. It was a kiss that demanded everything from you, one that poured out all the frustration, admiration, and possessiveness he’d kept in check throughout the show.

You melted into him, your tender hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat and then his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor. His touch was everywhere, his hands tracing the curve of your waist, the line of your back, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance between you.

The kiss deepened, his lips parting yours as his tongue sought entry, exploring, claiming. You gasped against him, and he took the opportunity to tilt your head back, giving him better access as he pressed you against the cool wall, pinning you against it.

“You were perfect, sweetie. You truly are.” he muttered against your lips, his voice a gravelly whisper. “You have no idea how you burn me alive.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling slightly, earning a low growl from him that sent heat pooling in your stomach. “I think I’m starting to get the whole of it, ‘Kuna.” you teased breathlessly, your words cut off as he captured your lips again. “But….I wouldn’t mind knowing more about it.”

The air around you was thick with the scent of him, a mix of that one of a kind expensive mint cologne and a little bit of cinammon, something he had become fond of because of you. Everything about it was unmistakably your Sukuna.

The world outside the green room ceased to exist — no crowd, no cameras, no responsibilities to the world. It was just the two of you, tangled together, consumed by the fire you’d stoked in each other. Consumed by the very word that both of you couldn’t fathom saying to the other. 

When he finally pulled back, the string of your connection bellowed you in parting. You looked at him intently as you gathered yourself. Both of you were breathless, wanton in your desire. You found your lips swollen and your heart pounding to no end. 

Soon enough, he drew you closer and let his forehead rested against yours intently, his hands still firmly on your waist, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish.

“You’re so ardently beautiful, angel of mine.” he said again, his voice a husky promise. “Always. My only muse.”

“And you’re just as cunningly sweet, devil.” you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. “You’re the only one who can be my artist.”

“You’re quite possessive tonight, aren’t you?”

You hummed back to him. “Don’t you already know that I am vile when it comes to you and smiling at other women?”

His smirk returned at your words. You rolled your eyes at his smirk, but your own eyes were too playful to suggest anything else. Your lover’s smirk turned softer soon, as your hands rested around his neck. But it was obvious that it was  just as dangerous. Soon enough, he leaned in to kiss you again, passionately slower this time, as if savoring the moment.

The green room felt impossibly small, the charged energy between you crackling like a live wire. Sukuna’s hands roamed your body with a confidence that left you breathless, his touch igniting a fire in your veins. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, down the curve of your neck, leaving a heated path in their wake.

Your back pressed against the cool wall, a small breath releasing from your lips. You could feel the difference when you pressed against his body, though. Now more so when he had all but taken everything off, naked as the day he was born. It was truly a stark contrast to the endless heat and pleasure just radiating from his body and onto yours. 

He held you firmly, his strong calloused hands gripping your voluptuous hips closer as though grounding himself in you. His hot breath was heavy against your skin, his sharp teeth grazing the sensitive spots on your skin that made you shiver and arch into him.

"’kuna, you….." you whispered, your voice trembling with both anticipation and need.

He chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a wicked smirk against your neck. "Say it louder for me." he demanded, his voice dripping with authority and raw desire. “I love hearing from you.”

You barely had time to respond before his hand slid lower onto your body,  finding the silky fabric in his way. His brow raised for a moment. He had put himself in a conundrum, at times. He likes dressing you in everything he thinks of and creates. And yet, he just as much loves to see it off your body. 

With a swift, deliberate motion, he tugged at the silky material, his eager movements ever so impatient yet precise. When your lover found your bare skin, you couldn’t help but gasp, throwing your head to the side slightly, clutching onto his shoulders for support.

It didn’t take long before your lover found himself pressing himself closer, the thick heat of his touch teasing at the warmth of your entrance. He paused, his warm scarlet eyes locking with your own, searching for permission in your gaze. Even when he leads, he knows an angel will always be the one on top, not him, not the devil.

You nodded, your bruised lips parting as you whispered back at him. "Please. Please, my devil."

From there, you could only find that the tension had all but snapped. He pushed into you with a slow, deliberate force that had you throwing your head back against the wall. A loud pleasured cry escaped your eager lips as his throbbing tip pressed against your walls with such a mean, unrelenting precision. 

You could only ever feel so full with the way he was easily stretching you in a way that was both overwhelming and intoxicating. He always knew too well how your body would react to him, wantonly eager to capture him in this desire. Just as much as it was willing to follow him, like he was its very own pied piper. 

His rough and yet gentle hands gripped your hips tighter against him, steadying you as he slid into you deeper, filling everything inside to the brim. Your lover’s breath could only feel ragged, his jaw clenched and tightened as he fought for control, his sweating forehead resting against your own, now too drenched in desire.

"You take me so perfectly, don’t you?" he growled, his voice low and filled with unrestrained hunger. “Too good.”

Your fingers found their way to the small of his back, nails painted crimson now stained deeper as they dragged across his skin, leaving raw, bleeding trails in their wake. You clung to him desperately, adjusting to the fullness of him, each deliberate motion sending shockwaves through your body. 

The initial sting of his girth soon melted into a searing pleasure, a molten heat pooling deep within you as he buried himself further, again and again. Each thrust forward in this pandemonium of pleasure was deliberate, unyielding, designed to elicit the loudest, most unrestrained cries from your lips. 

Even against the sound of music outside these walls, your pleasure was even louder. Not that Sukuna minded. If anything, that had just made him more eager for more. The air in the green room grew dense and feverish, charged with the mingling of your ragged breaths, the rhythmic slap of skin meeting skin, and the guttural curses that spilled freely from Sukuna’s lips.

He shifted slightly, tilting your hips with a nearly brutal precision, each movement driving him deeper and deeper into you. It was raw, primal—his intensity teetering on the edge of brutish animalism. The cool wall at your back pressed harder against you as he pushed closer, his heat overwhelming, searing into your already burning skin.

From then on, your lover found himself thrusting against you in a new angle. Almost instantly, you found yourself unraveled entirely, tearing cries of unrestrained ecstasy from your lips over and over again, layered in different pitches one after another. Your body arched instinctively, meeting him halfway, desperate for more as he kept you teetering on the precipice of bliss. 

Again and again, your lover gleefully pushed you closer to that feverish edge, his swift movements unrelenting, even as his own breaths grew rough and uneven, the sound of his hunger matching the rhythm of your shared passion. You could feel your slick sliding down your crevices, as much as drool was falling from your lips.

“You feel that?” he growled, his voice low and ragged, thick with possession. His lips found the curve of your neck, teeth grazing your skin before biting down lightly, claiming you in a way that sent shivers down your spine. 

You groan against him. “You take me so perfectly… even now, in this dress I made just for you. Look at how it clings to you, ruined. It’s just like I wanted.”

The shining silk fabric of the dress bunched at your hips, a masterpiece he had poured his craft into, now crumpled and wrinkled between your sweating, mangled bodies. It was too intoxicating, the way that the waves of wrinkles formed on the fabric as you moved against him just as intensely. It was such an art. It was an art that only belonged to you and him. No one else can ever see such marvels like this. 

The bright satin straps had all but slipped from your shoulders, exposing more of your gleamingly red and marred skin to his roaming calloused hands and greedy scarlet eyes. His long fingers gripped the delicate material, rough and unapologetic, as though the dress itself was just another part of you to dominate.

Your response was but a strangled moan as his brutishly eager hips snapped forward, the force of him driving you harder against the wall. The burn of skin against skin, the body against the cool wall — it has overtaken you whole in many fits of groans in pitiful harmonies of pleasure.

The cool surface contrasted with the molten heat coursing through your body, heightening every sensation. Your nails could only continue to claw at his shoulders, leaving streaks upon streaks of your touch across his skin, marring him,  as you fought to keep yourself grounded. He could only smirk at that.

“Look at you now.” he murmured darkly, his scarlet gaze piercing into yours. “Still wearing this dress like a goddess, and yet, you’re falling apart for me. Do you have any idea how maddening you are? How irresistible?” 

His hand slid between your bodies, teasingly brushing over the intricate folds of the fabric as his fingers found the heat pooling between your thighs. “Tell me, angel… do you want me to ruin this dress too? To ruin you completely, so no one else can ever have you?”

“Yes, my devil.Yes.” you gasped, your voice shaky but unyielding, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer. “Only you.”

His chuckle was dark, wicked, and utterly consuming, the sound of a man reveling in his victory. “Just how I love it, then.” he whispered, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear, his breath warm and teasing. “Because I’ve made you mine in every way that matters.”

His pace quickened, the power of his thrusts leaving you breathless, and yet, the dress still clung to your frame, a tattered proof to his desire and your surrender. Every stitch, every detail he had meticulously crafted was now a witness to the unrelenting passion that coursed between you, its perfection crumbling just as you were under his touch.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion, even as it trembled with raw hunger. “My perfect angel. My creation. Mine.”

The dress clung to you, its delicate fabric now rumpled and damp with sweat, a stark contrast to the pristine masterpiece it had been when he first slipped it into your body hours earlier. His hands roamed freely now, rough fingertips tracing the paths of the seams he had stitched with care. 

Each touch of his ignited sparks across your glowing skin, a searing reminder that every detail of the garment was crafted with you burning the thoughts he had mind—and now, every thread bore witness to how completely he had unraveled you bear to him.

“Do you feel how perfect this is?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice dropped to a rasp. His hips surged forward again, drawing a gasp from your lips that echoed in the small room. 

“Every part of this, of you, was meant to drive me insane. The heavens planned for that, don’t you think? An angel to save the devil from sin.” He lets out a small choked chuckle, feeling sweat permeate from his neck. 

His words were almost worshipful, though they carried the dark edge of his hunger. One hand slid down, gripping your thigh through the bouncing fabric, pulling you impossibly closer as he pressed harder against you. His other hand tugged at the hem of your dress, teasingly smoothing it back down only to push it higher again.

“You don’t even know, do you?” he continued, his scarlet eyes locked onto yours, holding you captive as easily as his body did. “How beautiful you look like this—wrapped in something I made, only to have me ruin it.” 

His lips curled into a smirk, wicked and proud, before he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. The kiss was all-consuming, his teeth grazing your lower lip, his tongue invading with the same urgency as his movements against you. When he pulled back, leaving you gasping for air, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“Say it again. I wanna hear it again.” he demanded, his voice thick with need. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You could barely form the words, but they tumbled from your lips without hesitation. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

His eyes darkened further, a victorious glint sparking within them. “That’s right.” he growled, his pace quickening, his grip on you tightening as he drove you higher and higher. “You’ll always be mine, angel. No one else will ever have you like this. No one else will ever love you like I do.”

The intensity of his words sent you over the edge, your beautiful cries mingling with his animalistic groans as he followed you into an oblivion together. The air around you was heavy, thick with the scent of desire and the echoes of your shared release.

For a moment, neither of you moved from the bliss of the high. The only sound that mattered to the two of you was the ragged cadence of your breaths. His hands, once rough and relentless, now moved with never ending tenderness, smoothing the crumpled fabric of your silk dress as if trying to restore its dignity. 

As if trying to hide the ruin and depravity that he feels only belongs to you and him. No one else can see it, no one else can know about his depravity. Only you, only you were the spectacle of any wrinkle in his composure. Your lover smiles at you. His lips brushed your forehead, a soft contrast to the ferocity of moments before.

“You’re perfect, as always.” he whispered, his voice low but steady, carrying a rare, vulnerable warmth. “In every way.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “So are you.”

[writermani4c]

Me and the Devil | Count Orlok x Reader

summary: You're a nun at an isolated convent. He is in your mind, eating away your mind bit by bit, soon destroying the pillars of your faith. Until you have no choice but to surrender to him, he will destroy all that is necessary.

warnings: He's a vampire. Of course he doesn't have to play fair, does he? There is mind control and there are some rather bloody deaths. I don't think I'm really good with that, I don't think it's too heavy, but it's good that there's a warning.

:: We girls can't bear to see a vampire who is completely obsessed with a woman, who will spill as much blood as it takes to get her, and who has already fallen in love with her. I'm completely obsessed by Nosferatu, even though I couldn't get a screening where I live. This is basically my brain being eaten away by Bill Skarsgard's hunger… I'm always hungry for Bill, but at this point in time I could be kept in a secluded castle to give birth to all of his babies, and I mean that. I hope you enjoy this. By the way, good luck in 2024!

The high-pitched squeak penetrated the stones of the convent, seeping like moss into the soft, bumpy cracks in the porosity, and imitated the soft voice of a wanderer saying a prayer in a dead language, older than time. His understanding was forgotten by men, but that didn't silence him. That voice was still preserved in the air that surrounded you like a thick mantle covering a thick cotton habit, as light as the coat of a holy lamb, which covered you from head to toe in a sacred enclosure. 

Through the narrow window of his room, all that showed were the orange Carpathian mountain ranges in the middle of a mild autumn, with the taste of hot tea and the smell of a fire burning in the evening, when the temperature dropped at night.

The mountain ranges and that stone fortress, far from the convent and yet terribly close.

Every day, the castle seemed to move. When you weren't watching it with your stoic expression, it seemed to grow tentacles over its foundation and creep up slowly. Depending on the day, it seemed further away, with only the tip of its towers appearing between the hills. But when you were getting ready for bed, tucked up in the modest comfort of your little room and wrapped in the soft blanket of your nightgown, the castle seemed terribly close to you, so close that you could feel its evil aura as you raised your hand in a vain attempt to touch it. 

He was calling you. A strength, a terror, a hungry longing.

Come to me, my eternal beloved. 

Tormented, you choked on your own breath. The deep, seductive sound of that voice crept under your blankets at night, and under the modest garments of your nightgown, finding your soft, easy-to-creep skin. His touch was physical, even if you often groped your skin in search of those hands and found nothing but loneliness, and intimacy. So intimate that not even the devil himself, cruel and cunning, could emulate such evil in his attempt to corrupt the Lord Jesus in his trial in the desert.

It scared you.

The feeling of intimacy that belongs to something, that is lost until it is regained. That invisible hand, as well as the voice that only you heard, shook your sense of self and made you feel the narrow mattress slipping off your back, the thin blanket sliding off your body and your fear of dissolving as you floated above the bed. A demonic, ghostly vision, with your eyes rolled back in a trance that nothing and no one could stop.

You felt it, more intimately than you felt anything else, and that was scarier than any of the other traps in hell.

♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰

— My child — greeted the voice on the other side of the wooden confessional booth. The only voice you could turn to in times of extreme need. Father Lengyel was an elderly authority in the convent, as was Mother Superior Illés. If it hadn't been for that, you wouldn't have had the courage to confide in him your greatest fears, seeking the reassurance of his gentle voice. — In your praiseworthy stillness, I can see that something is troubling you. You owe me your ordeal, child.

— Father, help me! — Tired and sleepless after a night awake, with your knees against the floor praying to ward off the tentacles of evil, you felt your eyes grow heavy as you saw the low, hunchbacked shadow of the priest. — I'm cursed. I didn't do anything about it, but I know that the shadow that haunts me was born with me, wrapped around me like an umbilical cord that has never been amputated. I feel it and sometimes I hear its impatience calling my name.

— Fear not, my child. No shadow of a curse is stronger than our Lord's mercy on your spirit, waking you up every morning with a breath of life.

But maybe it's not our Lord, you thought bitterly. You almost disbelieved that God would even work in your cause, probably deciding to wash his hands of you and leave you alone on your ordeal. This thought angered you, wondering how God, your holy God to whom you dedicated your time and efforts to serve with blind devotion, could leave one of his daughters helpless when the claws of the nefarious one threatened to entangle her? 

And anger, even though it was blasphemy with your Father, was easier to manage in your restless spirit than the fear that perhaps God hadn't let go of your hand. Perhaps he was there, following in your footsteps not long ago, weeping blood for not being able to do anything to prevent the evils that awaited you. Maybe there were forces greater than the salvation you blindly tried to reach like a child afraid of the dark.

That thought you swept from your mind, because if that thing was stronger than the Savior you were turning to, there would be no reason to be reluctant in its evil call.

— I beg you, Father, with all the infinite goodness of your being, pray for my soul. 

— I will, my child. You too, pray for wisdom and that the Lord, in his infinite love, will bring you comfort. 

When you left the confessional, you got down on your knees in front of the proudly erected altar. The suffering face of that poor man in his moment of greatest difficulty never comforted you, but inspired you. If even he, the son and Messiah, found the purpose to remain firm on the narrow road of faith, you too would find the strength to stay in the light. You would have to pass through that tortuous valley to have your healing.

♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰

You weren't the youngest in the convent, but you weren't the oldest either. When you arrived, with your only bag with a few belongings and a photo of the home you grew up in, the home that always seemed unworthy of your torments about the terror that was trying to get its claws into you, there were older girls who took you in as a younger sister, teaching you the trade so that you could also teach those who came to the convent after you. This was the mission: you didn't serve God's pure purpose alone, but learned from your sisters so that you could teach others in a cycle that stretched out like an infinite patchwork quilt. 

Among his protégés, the young Agnes was the most cherished. So young and intelligent, she was your faithful dog in the convent corridors. Agnes, who came from a poorer and more literate family than yours, found comfort in listening to you read the Psalms, the book they were given to study. Agnes' chubby cheeks and earthy brown eyes reminded you of the child you would never have, the one you could never run your hand through and love. The Lord was merciful to you in giving you a sister to fill that void and you gave her all the attention you could. Your beloved Agnes sat next to you while you ate your lunch in silence. The soup was thinner, to save supplies for the harsh winter, and the bread was smaller. All deposits were saved and all fasting was done in summer and fall, because in winter your bodies' strength was tested by the ice that seemed to be trying to infiltrate your bones. They would have to eat better to survive until spring.

Next to him, young Agnes choked on her bread.

— Eat slowly. 

— Pardon me, sister! — She stopped eating, lowering her head as if she expected to be punished. You smiled, running your hand over your protégé's head. 

— Don't be like that. I'm talking for your own good, chew better, it also helps to fill your stomach.

The girl turned her face towards you with a soft, youthful smile. 

A low, loud sound caught their attention. It was as if the ceiling had broken, so you looked up in doubt, but it seemed as firm as ever. Surprised gasps and the sound of footsteps moving across the stone floor made you stand up and look around, at the shocked faces of your sisters. 

— Stay behind me, Agnes. — You stood in front of the girl, shielding her with your body, while you searched for the cause of the commotion among the others. 

Another thud made you find the source of the terror. Your older sister, a girl so genuinely kind that she wouldn't mind giving up her own shoes and going barefoot if she had to. Olga. Olga, who was so generous that she always presented the others with little embroideries on old linen handkerchiefs, making them priceless pieces. Olga who hugged you as soon as you arrived, immensely happy as if you were a relative she hadn't seen for years and who was returning home. Your beloved sister Olga's nose was covered in blood and her front teeth were in an equally miserable state. Her blue eyes were completely covered by dark pupils, making them animalistic as she looked around at the familiar faces until she stopped at you. 

She gritted her teeth painfully, teasing the veins in her neck. Olga no longer knew you. She didn't look at you like her younger sister, but with anger.

— Ungrateful! Damn you! — She pointed her slender, cocked forefinger, the knuckles seeming to ache with the effort. — Ungrateful and  damned, unfortunate creature! Look what I do to what you love so much, look what I do to the object of your efforts!

Olga moved her face away from the table enough to almost fall backwards, gripping the edge of the table with her fingers tightly, before putting all her strength forward and, with a hollow sound of something breaking, smashing her nose against the wooden table. The noise tore you apart. Young Agnes' arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you pushed her back. 

Mother Illés rushed into the dining hall. 

She gave you an appeasing look and you understood. With agility, you gathered all the younger girls, totally terrified, and asked them to follow you out while Olga, surrounded and supported by her older sisters, screamed:

— Love me! Devote yourself to me! Command me if you wish, but don't ignore me, my beloved, don't deny me, for I am your lord and savior! I am the master of your pure and tormented soul, my beloved! 

But you, terrified, denied his call once again. You covered your ears as you led the girls into the courtyard outside. The dry autumn wind enveloped you, your voices, but did nothing to muffle the terror in your minds. Little Agnes was still wrapped tightly in your body and soon the others followed suit, seeking warmth in your shivering, freezing body. Concentrating on them, on reassuring them, took your mind off the torturous thought that, yes, he was impatient.

All those years of “tranquility” were his gift, his way of making you surrender voluntarily. But he was lonely. He was hungry. 

Now he controlled Olga's body. 

But not just her. 

That same night, while Olga was tied to her bed under the watchful eye of Mother Illés, Annabeth began to dance as she blew out the candles. You didn't see it, you were busy with your chores, but the others saw it and told you about it in sad, frightened voices. Annabeth, so young and playful, began to twirl around and the others thought she was just playing. The girl liked to play games, hiding pine cones under her pillows and little flowers in the sleeves of her habits. 

She spun around mesmerized, spinning faster and faster and more violently. Her feet seemed bewitched and she suffered without even being able to move her mouth to do so, her teeth clenched in a painful grind as her jaw unhinged. The candles on the altar grew, fueled by something supernatural and unworthy, dancing along with young Annabeth.

That macabre dance ended in a tableau and the flames touching the young woman's habit. The fire consumed her without anyone being able to put it out; no amount of water could stop the flames. They consumed Annabeth until there was nothing left. In her death, she said nothing, but tearing her clothes to get rid of the fire, her name was torn into the soft skin of my body. Her name was everywhere, written with love, sorrow and anger. Like a love-hate letter, he wrote to you through the skin of an innocent girl. 

♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰

You hadn't slept a wink for three nights. 

At the slightest sign of unconsciousness, as you blinked your eyes a little more slowly, it was as if he was lurking there waiting to take you, and this made you resist even though your body could barely stand.

The mother didn't let you take part in the funeral, allowing you only a brief farewell before you were taken to your chambers to rest. 

You didn't want to rest.

Even so, you didn't have the strength to move. Perhaps it was tiredness or apathy, the feeling that all your efforts were useless.You lay there in your narrow bed, watching the day fade away through the shadows on the wall.

The night was his territory. 

Night was when he hid in the wind and entered his room.

Even though he wanted to, there was no voice in his throat to scream and a hot tear ran down his left eye. 

The door to his room opened and, to his relief, Father Lengyel entered his room. The black cloak swirled solemnly around him, like something divine coming to his rescue.

— What ails you, my dear!

— A large, slender hand, smelling of scrubbed earth, touched his face. There was a certain softness to it, even though the ice in your palms made you sigh with the thermal shock. — My poor little lamb! 

The man held your face lovingly, with such care that you simply let go, allowing yourself to cry in dismay at his attentive care. Father Lengyel, so small and twisted, sat on the edge of your bed. A candle burned on the chair on the other side of the room, the glow of the fire casting shadows on the wall next to your bed and leaving you cloaked in that lonely corner. Father Lengyel kissed your cheek, with those closed, dead lips, so cold they made you shiver.

— Father!

— Poor creature!

— My shadow is growing. — You confessed, leaning your face on the old man's hand. — My shadow consumed poor Olga and Annabeth, casting them into the valley of the storm. 

Father Lengyel pulled the blanket away from your body and, in the narrow space that barely fit a body, he lay down with you. Your eyes widened as the man pressed himself against your body. The man you had always seen as a loving and attentive father, a listener incapable of the slightest judgment, lay beside you with the warmth of a lover. 

— You curse us all, my sweet. — His mouth curved into a smile that only reflected darkness. — Everyone, everyone, everyone. My eyes, so blessed with the beauty of your soft skin and childish eyes, your sweet mouth and the shaggy strands of your eyebrows, became the object of his dark admirer's envy and, look, what he did to me.

In the short distance between your faces, that distance you wanted to increase at all costs, you could make out the old man's wrinkled features. His withered cheeks, the corners of his eyes creased by years and years of study and service to the church. His thinning hair was pearly white on his straight head, with little spots like freckles. The eyes, previously blue, weren't there. 

In their place, there was the emptiness of two hollow holes whose darkness seemed to feed with pleasure. 

The priest smiled in her direction.

— Smile, my dear. Who else in the world would be as adored and cherished as you? What other soul would be as worthy of all the fascination of eyes that have seen the rise and fall of empires as the rising and setting of the sun? There are worse ways to live. In complete ignorance, never seen and never remembered, gradually rotting away like this old man. 

In an unknown breath, you felt the instinct to fight with the same strength as the archangels as you sat up in bed, your body trembling from the effort. The priest continued to lie there, moaning with satisfaction as he enjoyed the smell of your hair against the pillow where you had shed your tears. 

He was totally possessed. The evil had taken hold of the most benevolent man you've ever had the pleasure of knowing, save only his own father, a man so generous that he gave up his beloved daughter to the care of a convent without ever doubting his desires to follow a holy life. All was lost.

You got out of bed, your legs wobbly as you dragged yourself out of the room. There were few lit candles and a long corridor. Carefully, you hugged your body and left your quarters, dreading the next demonic sight you would encounter on your way.

The convent seemed more alive than ever. A complete organism. The walls moved as it breathed and guided you in silence, the cold accompanying you like a guardian, a raven on your sullen shoulders. The moon was high in the sky, its pearly glow illuminating what not even candle flames could touch. And you walked, leaning on the walls, groping for balance. In the dining hall, where Olga's blood was embedded in the wood of one of the tables, you saw the shadows of the feet of all your beloved sisters and your devoted mother.

They all floated solemnly, with ropes around their necks. They all looked at you with pupils consumed by darkness and wide smiles, so big that they seemed to rejoice in your presence. 

— My beloved! — cried Clara. 

— Beacon of my darkness! — said Lucia. 

— Don't you see, my beloved? 

With dread, you walked around the tables, looking into their faces. Every single one of them. The rope wasn't taut, they were floating under the invisible force that kept them alive only for a brief moment. Just long enough for you to see them, to remember their names and their faces, their voices, their lives and their untouchable faith. Because they, like your Savior, had no power to stop the terrors you were cursed with at birth.

As soon as your cry marked his arrival in this rotten, petty and cheap world, he also felt the pain in his chest, where his lungs were supposed to work. Your soft cry marked the raw, lifeless gasp of the thing that woke up to take in its big, slender hands what was rightfully its: that poor soul, which had never found a single day's peace, shrouded in the melancholy of that fateful encounter. 

Nothing could stop her soul from touching him, much less his emptiness from possessing her soul.

It was a perfect fit, an unspoken agreement between heaven and hell. God, all merciful, gave you up for the greater good. You were eternally linked. 

And your sisters, mother and father paid the price for coming between the two of you, for taking you away from your true home and your true master. They filled your days with their miserable little lives, with miserable knowledge, with miserable privations for such... miserable glory. 

— I have set you free, my beloved. I have loosened the nails that bound you to your cross. — Murmured the mother, with jubilant eyes, cheeks streaked with sweet tears. Your stern and beneficent mother. — My obsession is the key to this filthy, worthless prison. Come, darling, and enjoy with me all the pleasures you've been denied. Come quickly, my beloved, put an end to my loneliness.

His shadow has grown over you, outside in the courtyard.

— Spare them! I beg you! — Her voice roared over the tearful smiles of her sisters. Young Agnes wiggled her legs, looking at you with that untouched childish gaze, as if she were throwing herself into dense fluffy clouds and not into the abyss of death, into the blackness of darkness. — Spare them and I'll follow you without looking back. I will never desire anything other than your company, nor will I follow any other path than the one your feet once trod.

Your sisters' laughter exploded through the high ceiling, laden with a mockery that didn't belong to them.

Bewitched, they all looked down at you with equal dark amusement, their voices blending together like a spiral that drained the strength from your legs. 

— Don't you understand yet, my holy lamb? — Smiled sweet Agnes. — There's no bargaining. Whether they live or die, you will still be mine.Even in death, I will pull you back and chain you to me. I myself have suffered many years of being bound to the prison of my desires for you, waiting for you for countless years, feeling the weight of your rejection, cruel lover. 

— But you love me, don't you?

— Every part of me to every part of you, my sweetness. 

— So give me these gifts. Spare my beloved sisters, my fellow human beings, those sweet women with pure hearts who have guarded me long enough for you to come and take your rightful possession. They are not guilty, but guardians. — On your knees, you clasped your hands to your chest, begging the devil for mercy. — I know I wasn't good to you, I was insensitive to your call, but they are not to blame.You'll have all my devotion if you spare them, but if you kill them, even though you have my body and my spirit, you'll never have a drop of my attention. 

The silence of the souls hanging from the ceiling of the convent refectory echoed their inconsolable weeping.Thick tears and a plea so strong that it could make the souls turn over in their graves. 

The doors opened in a rush, letting the cold wind enter the dining hall. 

For the first time, under the ethereal light of the moon, as if in a macabre mixture of dream and nightmare intertwined by the thin veil of unconsciousness, you saw it.Not its aura or its agonized call, you saw the creature with your own eyes. 

You, who know so little about men, had never seen such a figure. 

So tall that you had to stoop to pass through the door that you would walk through without any difficulty.Eyes so deep that no light could reach them. A face hardened by the spectre of death, with a long nose and a thick moustache of a deep shade of black.He entered the sacred ground with equal parts ease and pain, each step a necessary torture to reach the object of his desire. The soul he so coveted in his millennial solitude, forgotten by the world, completely abandoned under the promise of a single soul that the heavens did not claim, a soul he could corrupt at will. 

Yours to devour, he thought at first, perhaps resentful that he was also chained to a lowly mortal, a wandering and very basic creature. Yours to torment, he thought, when you were very young and saw his shadow in your room for the first time. Yours to worship, he realized now, pulling her by her bare arms to stand up.

The creature, hungry for something, for some compensation for its endless loneliness, brought its face close to his and, with a touch of malice, stuck out its tongue, licking the length of his tears with its cold, inhuman breath. 

— I thought you'd wait for me in your habit, my beloved.I was particularly looking forward to it. — He lowered his cold, vile gaze, delving into the shape of your body beneath the nightgown with which you were forced to rest, a fabric so thin of light cotton that it hung down your body, revealing through the worn nature of the fabric the color of your stiff nipples against the fabric. He gasped with pleasure. — But what unparalleled pleasure it is to see you in such intimate attire, my eternal obsession. 

His hands, holding her face, were huge, with large, aged nails. Nails that would have dug into the earth to escape the grave. Their coldness was uncomfortable, but, given the horrors in your mind, you found yourself accepting their touch as a shred of comfort.

It destroyed your sanity, that it would at least give you the soothing balm of a caress.

— Please! — you sighed with a breath, a breath as anguished as it was tired. 

Your hands touched his, your eyes full of life and fear threatened his darkness with such a benevolent request, something the creature had never witnessed. 

Those like you, mortals, used to beg for mercy on your own life, on your knees and with the greatest promises of riches and pleasures.And here you were, a soul who would never reach heaven, asking for mercy for others when it was your fate that was at stake.

How he loved you! How he hated you!

— Treating it as my personal gift and demonstration of my esteem, these women live by my ability to have mercy on the requests of your heart. — He approached your warmth, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, the salt of your feverish skin. All his vitality was more than banal desire, he was madly fissured by every cell of his anatomy, every rudimentary bit of his mortal Anatomy, and so doomed to the horrors of putrefaction. — My eternal living flame, how it tormented me not to be able to touch it. How it torments me right now to feel the softness of your skin. 

The creature's eyes mapped your face, his eyes so vivid and striking in color, the visage on your skin, the softness of his mouth as you breathed audibly, so bruised by fatigue that you didn't even budge when he wrapped you in his arms like a bruised little bird. Her soft sigh, nesting her head against his shoulder, was the fuel for him to release the women from their ropes, gently lowering them until their feet touched the ground.

— As long as you live, my ladies, be the witness of my triumph in having my sweet beloved in my arms for eternity.

He lowered his face in your direction, the ancient smell on his clothes made you scratch your nose. 

The texture of his mustache was thick. When his funeral lips touched yours, you tried to resist. Never before have you felt the pleasure of a passionate kiss or a love that took your breath away. But he knew what he'd been waiting for, holding you tightly by the back of your head, wrapping himself around you menacingly as his mustache scratched and skin immaculate from his face. His lips were hard, demanding and hungry.

His mouth ate you as his last hope, the last of pleasures and torments, a feast for a dying man.

The exchange, life and death, touching each other for the first time ignited an impulse in you. The impulse that matched his kiss, because that was the deal. You gave in, letting your lips submit to the kiss. Your body was surprised as you gasped with pleasure at corresponding with him, stimulated by the passion with which he held you. The human body is capable of many bargains to continue resisting.

And you, who had resisted for so long, gave in to that bittersweet feeling of surrender, feeling it take against your body.

Her body gradually sank into the feeling of being supported. As her dark lover's lips devoured hers, the world became a darker and darker place, the hiss of the wind seeping into her ears like spilled poison.  Between soft gasps, feeling the creature suck on his lips, unable to be completely satiated, his body gave in to the strain, falling into a powerful sleep. Realizing that you no longer corresponded with him, he walked away, looking at her with apprehension. His right hand, large and bony, rested on his chest. 

The beating of his heart was quiet, yet powerful. Each beat rumbling softly against the bones of his chest. 

Under the gaze of the bewitched nuns, he disappeared with the night, carrying with him the only one with whom he could share his eternal night.

♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 53

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,790ish

Summary: You, Laura, and Logan restart your lives in 2024.

Notes: Apparently, people thought that the last chapter was the end. We still have some chapters left people! Please share reactions! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Though Wade was insistent that you, Laura, and Logan could live in his two bedroom apartment with his roommate Althea, you weren’t going to have that. After two nights of sleeping in the extra bedroom with Laura while Wade and Althea slept together and Logan slept on the couch, you were grateful that the two bedroom next door was available, allowing you and Laura to move in there. Not that Wade allowed you any privacy now that you had your own apartment.

“Morning, Buttercup and little wolf!” He exclaimed as he barged into your apartment after the first night you and Laura stayed in it. “It’s party day!”

“Morning, Wade,” you muttered, not fully awake yet.

“So what are you wearing to the party tonight? A sexy dress? A casual sweater? A—“

“I’m not going to your party, Wade.”

“What? Why would you break my heart like that? I already told all my readers that you’ll be there!”

“I’m not up for it,” you shrugged. “I start my job at the bar nearby tomorrow and I want to be well rested.”

“It’s not a party, party! It’s more like a large family dinner!”

You shook your head. “Sorry, Wade, I’m not going.” You walked out of the room and down the hall.

Wade sighed and looked at Laura. “Are you coming?”

“Yep,” she nodded. 

“At least there’s one of you I don’t have to convince.”

~~~

Laura knocked on your open door. Wade had left a while ago, but Laura had allowed you some time alone before coming to talk.

“Hey, kiddo,” you shot her a smile as you organized your room, still setting things up. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she responded.

You sighed. You should have known Laura would figure that something was up. You had felt off since returning to this timeline—to 2024— and had begun to retreat into yourself. You were restarting your life, yet again. Your body still ached from using your powers. You knew that a younger version of you and your original Logan were currently living in the mansion, happily. A different Logan lived next door that you had mixed feelings towards. You now had an annoyingly nosy neighbor who was a doppelgänger from your X-Team member. Not to mention Blind Al, who was constantly high or that you still had a teenager that you loved dearly and had to take care of. Everything was getting to be overwhelming.

“I’m fine, Laura,” you told her. “There’s a lot going on—a lot that has happened. It’s going to take me a while to get used to it all… But I’m sure you’re feeling similarly.”

Laura nodded, coming over to sit on your bed. “It’s just… it’s him, but it’s not. Like they look similar and they talk similar. But…” You stopped what you were doing as she paused, coming over to sit beside her. “He doesn’t look at me with that annoyance that dad did… he… he sees… me. And I know he will never replace dad but it’s still nice.”

You slung an arm over Laura’s shoulders and pulled her into your side. “Your father… he cared about you in his own way.”

“I know.”

“And I know that he was harsh and mean and I wish I had the extra time to yell at him about it… I’m sorry that he wasn’t who he should have been.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing for him, mom.”

“But I do… especially since he’s not here to do it.” Though, in the back of your mind you thought about how he wasn’t all that far away at all. Currently, in the mansion, with you.

“I will forever be grateful for him… for his sacrifice… for you.”

“I’m grateful for you, too.” You kissed her head before resting your head against hers. You sighed. “I can’t go to the party… Wade’s invited people from the mansion. I just… I can’t see them. Not yet.”

“Wade’s not going to be happy about it. He let you have a break this morning, but you know he’s going to throw a fit.”

“I know. But I’ll just be honest with him.”

“I think Logan will be disappointed too.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Is he another reason you’re not going?”

“Yes… it’s just weird… he has his face and his eyes, but not… he doesn’t have the same memories at all… It’s going to take some getting used to.”

“I should stay home with you.”

“No. You need to go have fun. Make friends. Keep Logan and Wade in line and then come home and tell me all about it.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

~~~

Logan had stuck to his new room for a majority of the day, drinking. It was weird being in a world that was similar to his own but also completely different. Here, the X-Men were alive and revered. The Wolverine was a hero. Something that he had never truly been. There was also the fact that he had people who believed in him again and he was terrified to let them down like he had with the others. 

Then there was you. Something inside of Logan was drawn to you. It wasn’t romantically, not yet anyway. But he wanted to be near you, get to know you, be friends. Just from what he had seen and heard in the brief interactions the two of you had, Logan knew that you were a strong woman, who had been through a lot. You had clearly raised a great daughter, who wasn’t even yours by blood. And you were different then the you from his universe. Though he didn’t know if you wanted to get to know him at all.

Logan exited his room when he heard others arrive. Wade quickly had to explain to the others (especially Colossus, Yukio, and Negasonic Teenage Teenage Warhead who lived at the mansion) why there was another Logan. Laura had already spoken to Wade before in private, threatening him to not speak about you with the others just yet.

Everyone was laughing and telling stories while Logan noticed Wade looking longingly at Vanessa. He reached over and took Mary Puppins from him.

“Give me the fucking dog,” he muttered. “Talk to the girl.”

Logan turned so he was facing Laura better, giving Wade and Vanessa some privacy. Laura smiled at gave Mary Puppins a pet. Logan’s eyes glanced around the room, his small smile fading when he realized who was missing.

“Kid, where’s your mom?” He asked Laura. “She runnin’ late or somethin’?”

Laura shook her head. “She’s not coming,” she answered.

“What? Why?”

The young woman sighed. “She’s… struggling. It’s not easy coming back to a time when you know your younger self is living happily with your husband not too far from here.”

Logan hadn’t even thought of that. Yes, he knew the rules the TVA had for you to come back to 2024, but he hadn’t taken them as seriously as maybe he should have. He couldn’t even imagine the turmoil you must be going through. Logan focused back on Laura, quickly realizing that she may be dealing with something similar.

“Are you, uh, okay?” He asked.

Laura was taken by surprise. “I’m getting there. It’s different for me though.”

Logan nodded, not wanting to press any further. His eyes fell to the pizza box in front of him. “Does your mom like pizza?”

~~~

You could hear the hustle and bustle of Wade’s party next door. You had pushed Laura out the door and locked it. The apartment seemed empty, overwhelmingly so though you knew it was just your mind playing tricks. As the anxiety seeped in, you were able to get yourself to the couch on shaky legs. You began to go through a breathing routine as you tried to keep your powers at bay. It wouldn’t be any good to anyone if you burned down the apartment already.

Your hands balled into fists as you could feel them begin to heat up. Tears slipped down your face as you tried to focus on not forming flames. A burning sensation ripped through your hands, causing you to snap them open. Instead of forming flames as you were trying hard to avoid, your hands were burning. Burn marks and blisters were appearing on the skin of your hands.

A timid knock on the door had your head snapping in that direction, eyes wide. You held your breath, waiting for the person to leave, but they only knocked again.

“Y/N,” Logan’s voice broke through the door, “It’s, uh, me. Logan. Laura told me that you weren’t coming to the party so I brought some pizza over.”

If you had been in the right frame of mind, you would have found it cute that he brought you food. But instead you were in pain and panicked that he could break the door down and see your hands. You stood up quickly and stumbled to the kitchen, biting down on your lip as you shoved your hands under cold water.

Logan could hear movement from the other side of the door. His brows pinched together as he moved his ear closer to listen in. There was a brief scent of smoke along with the sound of your stumbling feet and rushing water. Perhaps you burnt something on accident.

“You okay in there?” He asked. You bit down on your lip harder. “Need any help?” You remained as quiet as you could. Logan sighed. 

Laura had said that you were struggling. Even told him that it had to do with your husband of the same name and face. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for him to come over.

“I’m going to leave the pizza on the rug,” he told you. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Logan set the plate of food down before heading back to his apartment. He spared your door one last glance before he slipped back into the party.

You on the other hand, were still in the kitchen, trembling. You turned off the water and grabbed a hand towel to place your hands on. With both hands burnt and no first aid kit, you didn’t know what to do next. You definitely couldn’t let Laura come home to find you like this. Maybe if you just went to bed, your body would heal itself by morning. That seemed like the best option.

~~~

“Thanks for the fun, Wade,” Laura said as she headed out the door. 

“That’s for not being a party pooper like your mom,” he commented. “She owes me, especially since all my readers were expecting something juicy tonight.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped into the hallway. Her face fell when she noticed the plate of pizza sitting there. Logan peeked his head out, disappointed when he saw the same thing.

“Let us know if either of you need anything,” he quietly said before heading to his room.

Laura nodded and headed to the apartment door. She picked up the plate before unlocking the door and slipping inside. The place was dark and you weren’t anywhere to be seen. Laura put the pizza away in the fridge before heading down the hall. She stopped by your room and tried to open the door, only to find it locked. She sighed, debating on whether or not to wake you. Deciding to not, Laura went to her room and got ready to bed. Her thoughts were focused on you and how there was a possibility that you were doing worse than even she knew.

~~~

You were grateful that you were able to get some sleep. But you woke up and the burns were still on your hands. As quickly and quietly as you could, you threw on a jacket and left the apartment, hands buried in the pockets. You walked to the nearest store, buying burn cream, gauze, wrap, pain killers, and multiple sets of gloves.

When you returned to the apartment, Laura was up.

“Hey, mom,” she greeted, looking at you with concern. “Where were you?”

“I just had to get a few things from the store,” you told her, heading towards the bathroom.

“Are you okay?”

You stopped and looked back at her, forcing a smile that you knew she wouldn’t believe. “I’m fine.”

“Mom…”

“I need to get ready for work. I start today and have to go in early to fill out paperwork.” Then you disappeared into the bathroom.

~~~

You were glad that no one had yet to question why you were wearing gloves in May. You got to your new job at the bar near by, painfully filled out the paperwork, and then got training. You tried to mask the fact that your hands hurt with every little movement by focusing on what your manager was telling you. Your manager sent you home before the rush, telling you to rest up and you’ll work it tomorrow.

Laura was in the kitchen making dinner when you returned home.

“Hey mom,” she greeted with a smile. “How was work?”

“Exhausting,” you replied, shooting her a smile. You walked over and sat at the table. “It will be a good thing though. How was your day?”

“Fine. Wade came home, insisting on help me set up my room. Claimed it to be bonding time.”

You laughed. “I’m sure he was great help.”

“Oh, so much,” she laughed. “And—wait, mom, are you wearing gloves?” She came over to you. “Why are you wearing gloves?”

“I’m fine, Laura. Just—“

“Are you cold?” The fear in her eyes hand your heartbreaking. She knew that you being cold wasn’t a good thing.

“No, no, that’s not it.” You took a deep breath, knowing that you couldn’t keep it from her. “Could you, uh, pull off the gloves for me?”

Laura sat down and gently pulled off your gloves. Her eyes widened upon seeing the bandages that had spots of blood and ooze. She carefully unwrapped one of your hands to see the damage.

“Mom… when—Why?” She said quietly.

“I was trying to prevent my hands from going up in flames,” you explained. “But it looks like I just made it worse.”

“Is it healing?”

“It looks slightly better than last night. So it’s healing, just slowly.”

You and Laura jumped as the door slammed open. Wade waltzed in with Logan trailing behind. You quickly stuffed your hands between your thighs to hide the damage. 

“My two favorite girls!” Wade exclaimed. “Is dinner ready?”

“Almost,” Laura mumbled, heading back to the stove. 

“Well, Buttercup,” Wade plopped into the seat beside you, “we sure missed you last night.”

“I’m sure it was a lot of fun,” you said, standing. You stuffed your hands into your pant pockets with a wince. Logan noticed. “I’m going to go wash up before dinner.”

They all watched as you walked down the hall and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

“What can we do to help?” Logan offered. Laura could sense that the question had multiple meanings: help with dinner and help with you.

Laura shook her head, opting to remain silent. Logan grew more concerned. Wade and him had clearly interrupted something. Wade told stories as Laura finished dinner and getting it on the table and you took your time in the bathroom. When you finally reappeared, you had new compression gloves on your hands. 

“What’s with the gloves Elsa?” Wade asked, immediately noticing them. “Or I guess the opposite of Elsa since you deal with fire and she—“

“I’ve just been having some pain,” you brushed him off. “I’m fine.”

You glanced over and Logan who was looking at you like he didn’t believe you. You looked away. What was with Logan’s and seeing right through you? Wade took over the dinner conversation, allowing you to focus on eating and ignoring your problems. Logan kept stealing glances at you throughout the dinner, noting the way your hands had begun to shake, even just subtly. 

“Thanks for dinner, Laura,” Logan said as he grabbed his plate and stood up. He quickly swiped your plate up too. “Wade and I can handle clean up.”

“You don’t have to,” you said, shaking your head. 

“I know.”

~~~

Laura lingered in your doorway as she watched you rewrap your hands. Tears fell down your cheeks and onto your hands.

“Mom,” Laura whispered, coming to sit beside you.

“I’m so sorry, Laura,” you cried. “I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“You’re going to have to deal with me and my dwindling ability… And I… Soon I won’t be able to make those flames for you anymore…”

Laura wrapped you up in a hug. “I don’t need your flames, mom… I just need you.”

next chapter >

[cherie-doll]

i hope the day is good for you 🫶🏻 (english is not my first language) can you please write a story with cod men, about what would they do when the reader doesnt make it home from the mission - like they are waiting at home for her but she's dead.

thx for submitting love <33

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Waited For You

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He didn't believe it at first, there was just no way... he immediately got to verifying all his sources, even went down to talk to the other soldiers who had been a part of your team

You were supposed to come home, he expected you to come back to him, safe and sound like always but instead of falling asleep and exhausted in his arms like you should've been by tonight, your corpse was out there somewhere missing his embrace

He thought of how he could've prevented this from happening, yes he still blamed himself for anything bad that happened to you despite it not being in his hands, maybe if he could've kept you from going, why did you even feel the need to continue doing this?

There was no one else he cared for as much as he did for you, which truly said a lot of your relationship, but since he met you he felt an overwhelming urge to show love like he'd never done before, nothing else on earth deserved this dedication like you did

He deteriorated rather quickly, the mornings became grim and he couldn't bear to see the sun setting without thinking of how much you loved letting the rays caress your arms and let your eyes take in that golden light, you looked so beautiful in those moments

Ghost

Since he met you, there was finally a stage in his life he could think of purely, sure the relationship wasn't perfect, but this was something he could be reminded of and he didn't have to fight to keep it hidden in the back of his mind, he let the memories emerge to the surface and ponder about them

It had been something pleasant but it had been ripped out of his hands far sooner than he would've wanted, his fantasy that had become a corrupted reality, it makes him want to die, badly, but he always found a way to survive the deadliest situations, somehow he always did; as if he was cursed with immortality

But this? He felt no desperation urging him to dig out of the hole he was sinking into, the walls closing in on him from all sides and he made no effort to push it away, it felt sort of relieving being cramped and paralyzed since he couldn't see the path ahead of him, with you it had become so obvious and clear what he wanted but now there was nothing worth moving towards

Did life always want something from him? Just when he thought he lost everything he could lose, there was always something else being pried out of him, it was painful because it was forcefully taken away just when he was getting attached, when there was no foreseeable evil trying to destroy him there was some good, and you had been the best unexpected thing in his life

Soap

You were like an illusion he had always dreamed of and finally were achieved, a life so dreamy and ideal he thought would never be in his reach, but he had been permitted to have it for a short while with you

Within your time together a love so beautiful had bloomed, it was sweet how sublime it had felt, you had been youthful, still beaming with so much life within you but tragically cut short, those years had gone and went unused

He couldn't find the sense within him to comprehend why it had to be you, your death had been like a cold slap to the face, he had once again become aware of the disheartening reality he lived in, that nothing was secure nor did everything stay the same forever

Well, he knew about the forever part, but did it have to come so soon? He had to gather the strength within him to continue forward and he wasn't even sure of that, there was still so much left unsaid, so much still to be done, and how frustrated he was that it would all be forgotten and left unfulfilled

A sadness like no other would coat his existence, swallow him up and change him beyond recognition, his mind would be invaded by memories of you that will replay until they burned and ceased to exist... the day he ceased to exist

Gaz

All those days that he had spent with you had been the most fulfilling days he had ever experienced, he could remember the warmth of your hand, the weight of your body asleep next to him on the mattress, the security knowing you valued his affection and returned it

He truly felt the happiest with you and he wished to be encased in that happiness forever, but how naive it was of him to think it was possible for even a second, life was always moving and throwing hurdles at us that seem impossible to avoid, it's only a matter of time misfortunes come to us all

By simply contemplating and reminiscing, he felt grief beyond help and any consolation couldn't do much for him, wistful memories came to him and he could not sleep at night, all they did was leave a dark imprint on his mind

His caring nature did not change, he thought with time he could heal and learn to move on, but some things never change, and a sore spot still brings pain when pressed too hard, he would mull over this no matter how painful it was to do so

How he misses to hold you in this moment and kiss you

Roach

The news of your death came like a hard blow to his face, and he was left clutching his chest, eyes watering with tears as he desperately tried to cling onto some comforting memory in his mind

Restlessness follows immediately, even at night sleep does not come to him no matter what he does, the memories you shared seemed to tear him apart rather than anything help him, but he didn't want to forget you either

He knew he couldn't get you back and he had lost you forever in this life, panting and gasping he would awaken from his nightmares, the little sleep he got would do nothing to comfort him, and you weren't there to comfort him, to silently hold nor ease with your voice in his ear

His mind wanted to deceive his heart, make him believe you were somewhere far away but still thinking of him, that he could close his eyes and imaging resting his head on your shoulders, basking in serenity as he lost himself in the waves that lulled him

Alejandro

He was overtaken by bitterness and anger, his better judgement was clouded far beyond reason at the most valuable treasure in his life forever gone, the feeling of longing would become a hole he'd spend his days trying to fill with wrongful acts

All he wanted and needed was your touch to remind him reality was there and not as cruel as he thought, you had still met and loved in your time and nothing could take away what had already been done, he could live blissfully in life knowing you had known each other

But could he be satisfied with that? He could strongly feel the ties that bound you together still tug at his heart, and every year he remembered you, would set an altar for you and fill it with what were your favorite foods and things

He would stare at your imagine, remembering how he once had kissed those lips, stared into your sparkling eyes that watched him endearingly, your face he had held within his hands...

He could never have that back

Rudy

He missed delicately tracing your face, his fingertip raising softly over every curve and line, your silhouette against the wall when you rose that morning, early so you could still say your goodbyes to him and tell him to expect you back very soon, this one wouldn't be too long you said

You had left him a content man, he'd sit around the house and wait, he would take it easy these days because you'd be back soon, but he wasn't ready to withstand the tumult he'd find himself in

His heart had become haggard in the days following your death, he had absorbed every bit of warmth and clung to the last signs that you had left behind, he wished he had been there, to ease your last painful moments before death, how much did that train of thought torment him, day and night it ran through his mind

In sleep, he dreamt of terrible ways you had encountered death, surely, you didn't have a peaceful one, you were healthy and fit to make it, something terrible must have happened but no matter how much he wished to know the cause of your death it wasn't given, most likely for the best to remain unknown

Phillip Graves

He often boasted of having you in his life, it was such a fortunate occurrence when you met that he didn't think it was entirely a coincidence, he loved doting on you and hold you in his arms knowing you were there for him

You had already confirmed the date of your return, but that day came and passed and there was no sign of you, worse yet no message or word had been heard on your part, it was he who had to dig and find out that you had been KIA

It felt like a strong blow to his chest to have you ripped away from him, he knew the harsh reality and danger he was constantly under, he just never imagined it would get to you one day

You shouldn't have paid for his sins or errors, he wished you had stayed out of the battle, but you had your own life to carve out and ultimately it had been your decision

Much time would have to pass before he'd be able to say your name, for the longest time he'd whisper it, as if afraid it'd shatter his reality even more, staying in the air reminding him of what he lost

Makarov

You were forever gone from his grasp, how was he to cope with that? The fire that had warmed his insides, making every act of his be out of love for you suddenly halted, reduced to nothing but ashes and now he was left to sweep the heaps of it

The emptiness growing and knowing there wasn't a piece to fit or make him whole again like you, you were a unique piece, the edges weren't cut with delicacy that an experienced hand could replicate, there wasn't a mold to follow to shape something else into you

You sprung out of chaos and spontaneity with ease, there was a lightheartedness you brought out in him that brought out the best in him, all of it offered to you who didn't greedily take but lovingly returned

He didn't want to believe someone like you could just be taken away from him and have nothing done about it, just when he thought he could be tender he'd return to his old ways, the resentment stronger than ever and tied to his heart, obscuring and consuming him

Keegan

How despairing did this turn out for him, never had he imagined he'd lose you, all that time he had spent training with you, preparing for when the worst could happen and each time you had managed to slip away, always

Except this time you weren't fast enough, he knew those shoulders held up a levelheaded person, who confidently calculated their every move, it was unfair you had been taken

His brows are now furrowed, thinking this just has to be some sort of protocol you're following, faking a death isn't all that uncommon, maybe you were still alive out there, hiding away somewhere for your safety, each day he held the pitiful hope that you'd come back to him, then he'd nurse your injuries and help you stand back up

But moons waxed and waned and you didn't appear, and he couldn't hold the fragments of you close to his heart if you wouldn't be around to reignite them and make them come true again

His palm that had curled, clutching the remnants loosed and he had to give up that foolish dream and accept reality as it was being presented

König

Was it cruel if he wished it was you who had received the news instead of him? He thought it would have been that way, he often joked about the benefits you'd get when he passed, it wasn't supposed to be you to leave earlier than him

Relaxed he was sitting in the armchair until he received the terrible news, his breaths became desperate as he tried to get air into his lungs, he wanted to march down there to the field himself to collect you, to not believe it just yet

Maybe you'd be down there, hiding away in some corner like the sly fox you were and say you had managed to dodge the bullet this time

But he was disappointed with the outcome of things, he hated it when things didn't follow the path he set for them but no one could have controlled the outcome of this course, it had left a profound wound in his heart he wasn't sure he'd be able to heal from

You had parted without saying your goodbyes and now he wouldn't be able to live with that, to live longer still with you in the back of his mind

Horangi

He hated anything that brought the slightest trace of despair, and he dealt horribly with it, he ran on pure serendipity but now he couldn't count on that, was it by being at the wrong place and time you had been one of the lives lost, the most important one to him

He felt the urge to go back to his old ways of numbing out the pain, but he pushed that temptation away, it would only drain his money and everything he had worked for go to waste, he knew you wouldn't have wanted that for him and right now he just wished to keep the traces of you very much alive and present

He wanted to go about his days as if you were still there, the flower you planted, he tried to keep it alive and water it, the way you left your stuff around the house, that way it was easier to transport himself to a time when you were there with him, still at home

The people of the past are hard to forget but he didn't mind, he faced the situation with more determination than he himself expected, he was surprised at the resolve he had come up with

He had loved without regret, and with every passing day he'd be closer to reuniting with you again

Nikto

The only sound occupying the complete silence is the static in his mind, he's just numb, doesn't know what to do, what he should do with whatever emotions he's trying to detect, he must feel something

He was just delivered the worst news of his life, he should be breaking down and crying but he can barely even process the fact that you really are gone, he looses his train of thought every five seconds and can only stare forward as if in a trance he's unable to escape out of

He feels the long seconds drag by but he can't get up from his fixed spot on the chair, it's like a knife has been plunged into his side and pulled out, leaving the gaping wound pulsating softly, but he can barely hear his flesh scream out in pain, he can only feel the blood oozing out, staining his clothes and falling to the floor in droplets as he actively ignores it

He is hurt but can only clutch at it, he can't get up, feels far too comfortable sitting on this kitchen chair staring forward to the wall, elbows resting on his knees

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

P.S. Do You Still Love Me| Bonus

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ P.S. ...and I never will <3 ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒpt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

The sunlight was soft as you lay tangled in the sheets with Jisung. The soft sound of his breathing filled the space, and everything was calm- just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Jisung stirred beside you, his hand resting gently on your belly. You felt his thumb trace small, loving circles there, his touch warm and comforting. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down at you with a soft, sleepy smile.

"I love waking up next to you," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. As he nuzzled his nose to your forehead.

You chuckled softly, your eyes half-lidded as you snuggled into his chest. "You’ve been saying that every day since we got married," you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

He let out a quiet laugh, his lips brushing the top of your head. "Can't I? Every morning feels like the best morning when I wake up next to you."

You smiled, closing your eyes for a moment, feeling his warmth surrounding you. "You said that yesterday."

"And I'll say it again tomorrow." Jisung’s hand gently moved from your belly to your waist, pulling you closer to him as he nestled his face in your hair. "I’ll never stop saying it. You’re stuck with me now, remember?"

You laughed softly, the sound light and full of affection. "Trust me, I wouldn't have it any other way."

After a few moments of peaceful silence, Jisung shifted, his body slightly pulling away as he stretched, a soft groan escaping his lips. "I’ve got to get to the studio," he said, rubbing his face with his ringed hand.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, watching him as he began to get up. "You’re always rushing off," you teased. "You’d think you were in a race."

He turned to you, flashing a grin. "It's live today, and I’ve got a few things to prepare." His hand briefly touched your belly again before he started to walk toward the closet. "Maybe you can stop by. It's been a while since you stopped by the studio."

"Baby, I was there two days ago."

"Well the guys want to see you too."

You watched him with a soft smile, still lying in bed. "Too? Or two?" you questioned, your voice warm and you pulled your shirt over your stomach.

"Both."

You got up out of bed. "Let me make you coffee while you get ready."

You made your way to the kitchen, Jisung in tow.

Jisung paused by the counter, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. "You know, since we’re doing a live today..." he started, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Do you think I could announce it?"

His voice trailed off, his eyes flicking over to the fridge where an ultrasound picture was taped, a small post-it note reading “P.S. We love you” in bright, cheerful handwriting.

You and Jisung had started the post-it tradition not long after you had gotten back together. Little reminders, mementos of how far you had come. You had hundreds of little P.S. notes stowed away in a box.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "Announce what?" you asked, your lips curling into a teasing grin as you started the coffee pot.

Jisung’s playful expression faltered for a second, and then he pouted, heading toward you with a quick stride. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your waist. "You know what, baby..." he whispered, his voice sultry and full of affection. "I think Stay will be happy when they hear the news." He gestured toward the fridge, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You followed his gaze, your heart skipping a beat as you looked at the ultrasound picture on the fridge, accompanied by the note. "Really?" you asked, your voice breathless, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Yeah," he said softly, his hands gently cradling your face as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "They love you...I think it's time they know."

You kissed him back, your lips lingering against his for a moment. "Yeah. I think they'll be thrilled," you whispered, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes.

Jisung smiled, his face soft with love. "I can’t wait to share it with them...with everyone. With you. This is our moment."

Jisung looked at you one last time before heading to get ready, with his mug of coffee, his eyes filled with pure adoration.

When he was heading out the door, he looked at you with a smile. "I’ll be back soon. Don’t forget to take care of both my babies while I’m gone. Or just come visit the studio." he teased, winking at you before he went out.

You stood there for a moment, your fingers gently tracing the edge of the ultrasound picture on the fridge and note that accompanied it. A perfect reminder of the new chapter you were beginning together, formed together by all the letters in between. ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy @holly-here ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

[bekkathyst]

I'm gonna say this and I'm gonna mean it in all sincerity from a longtime follower: I'm really glad you're so open with how things have been since you moved to Austria. On one hand, I do feel like I'm not only supporting a business I have for ages and feel good about that and I'm also supporting folks I care about online into being able to have a good life. And on the other I'm glad, because if you didn't mention the bad stuff I would probably 100% believe you guys moved into the middle of Europe and immediately escaped all the evils of capitalism and integrated into a gorgeous place with lots of history and folklore and ability to forage (!!!!!!!) and I would be so jealous I would possibly die. So either way I'm happy to keep buying your crystals, and also while I am very jealous but I probably won't die of it. Please give your daughter a hug from me, and your husband a high five. :D

Ah 😭 this is really sweet and I’m going to try not to ramble too long but I feel like this is a good thing to discuss, especially right now.

The first couple months of moving here were an insane contrast of like the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and the most stressed out knowing that one wrong move meant we’d have to give it all up and move somewhere else or lose the ability to be together. The immigration process I’ve had to go through to be with my husband anywhere is difficult but it was harder here than what we dealt with in the US only because this is the place we REALLY wanted to be and it was terrifying thinking the chance to be here could just be ripped away. But of course at the same time I was seeing family I hadn’t seen in a decade or longer, I was getting to really connect with my ancestors, be immersed in the culture, forage in the way I’d been longing to do for my entire life, and all the rest. I feel like because of this I just blinked and now somehow it’s been two years.

The nature here is my favorite, and I honestly wouldn’t trade it for anything. But Austria is far from perfect. There’s racism, xenophobia, the bureaucracy has made me question my sanity, some of the social culture really sucks, my business is deeply struggling and I wonder if we can make it due to how high fees and other taxes are, and I will ALWAYS have criticisms for any government I live under lol. Living somewhere very different from where I spent most of my life is really isolating and I feel lonely a lot. And I’m sure however I feel, it’s even harder for Antonio.

But like I said in my post, in the end, this is worth it for us. It’s so hard BUT we get to watch our daughter grow up somewhere where she can have healthcare and a good education and swim in lakes and hike mountains and make so many friends!! Omg she has so many friends. 🥹 and I now have healthcare too for the first time in my life which is really just in time for me to get diagnosed with a bunch of chronic illnesses that I’d never be able to get any help for in the US. And now my husband also has the chance for the first time in his life to pretty much travel anywhere he wants to which is amazing for him.

It must be quite obvious that these are all feelings I’ve been holding in for some time lol. But I can’t believe what lovely human beings follow me on here and support us especially after so long! It’s been almost 12 years since I started all of this and somehow I’m still doing it. Wow. Incredible.

I love you 😭❤️

And here’s evidence of the passed on high five 😆

[shiro-s2e2-erukinzu]

Anime only watchers and people who aren't caught up with the Manga, BEWARE... Cuz I'm about to discuss Spy X Family Mission 109... You have been warned...! 👌

[SPOILERS AHEAD FROM THIS POINT ON]

This chapter was quite an interesting one...! 🤔 Especially with how it ended...!! 😲

This our first chapter of the year and did not disappoint...!! So let's us discuss this chapter shall we...? 👍

So, this chapter begins like this:

MELINDA STOP, THAT'S SOOO FREAKING ADORABLE!!! 💗😆

I just love the fact that Yor told Melinda about Loid's "concussive therapy" in the last chapter and because of that, we now get this gem of a reaction from her meeting Loid for the first time...!! 💗🤭💗

After that, it's time for Melinda's therapy session with Twilight...! Melinda tells him that Yor is the reason that she decided to come in, which Twilight acknowledges as an inadvertent assistance from Yor for the mission. After that, Loid lists off all of Melinda's symptoms and asks what might've triggered them, but she doesn't respond... Loid then tries to reassure her, which led to Melinda to say this to him:

Melinda... 🥲

After that, Twilight ponders why Melinda does not consider herself as a lively person, but she's still too anxious to give a full answer... So Twilight tries to reassure her again, but this time...:

It feels completely unsettling to me...!! 😰 Like, the way Twilight's drawn here with his inner thoughts just gives me bad vibes, but that's the thing with the characters of this series, most of them are grey characters...! Twilight may want to make a better world, but in order for him to achieve this as a spy, he has to do things like manipulation in order get the information he needs to help stop people like Donovan Desmond from causing more harm... And though he's only thinking of his mission currently, we have seen him go against what would've been more beneficial to the mission before (like deciding not to kill Yuri for Yor's sake back in Mission 83), so it's definitely possible that Twilight won't push Melinda too far, but we'll have to wait and see...!

Moving on, after sending her bodyguard Nora away, Melinda remarks that Twilight doesn't seem like a doctor (which immediately made me scared for a second that she might've figured out that Twilight was a spy) and proceeds to mention that she was a patient at Twilight's hospital a long time ago...:

Melinda then tells Twilight that she's here as a mother and a wife, which makes him come to that conclusion to ask if her distress involves her family, and then Melinda asks Twilight...:

HIS REACTION TO HER QUESTION GOT ME CACKLING!! 👏🤣🤣🤣

Twilight not knowing how to respond to that tries to figure out the best thing to say here by saying that he too is interested in UFOs, but it doesn't seem to work, so asks if UFOs have anything to do with Melinda's family, and her response was THIS:

WHAAAAAAAAT!?!? 😵

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN!? 😱 DOES THIS CONFIRM THAT DONOVAN HAS POWERS LIKE ANYA, OR COULD SHE BE IMPLYING THAT THE "REAL" DONOVAN WAS REPLACED BY AN ALIEN...?! I HONESTLY DON'T KNOW WHAT IT COULD BE...!! 😫

And well, that was the end of the chapter and, uh... I have SO MANY questions right now...!! 😵 I honestly don't what to believe at this moment, but I think I'm still leaning on the idea of Donovan having psychic powers like Anya...!! It just makes too much sense at this point!!! 👀

I don't know what's gonna happen in the next chapter, but whatever it is, it's gonna be ABSOLUTELY CRAZY!! 😲 So until the next Mission; take care, be safe out there and be kind to one another...!! PEACE!! ✌😁

[therandompagesblog]

Hunting Your Soul Chapter 5 🫀Y/N🫀

Trigger Warnings: Stalking, Mentions of death and murder, mention of the word rape, mention of the word torture, mentions of period blood

I seriously needed to get out of the house. I needed to move and stay somewhere else. I can't believe my stalker cut me. Except I don't think he was any type of stalker. He was something that lived in the shadows. He was something that was supposed to be in a prison cell but would never get caught. I believed he was the monster that was supposed to stay in my grandmother's fantasy books. I could be wrong but I felt it in my bones. This creature was a vampire or a monster. A monster that has sharp claws. A werewolf even. If he was a vampire surely my blood would have tormented him and called to him. Surely he would have drained me. I was guessing it was a male. It was this stereotype that women didn't stalk. But what if this one did? I honestly didn't want to think about it too much. My head was hurting. I decided I needed to get out. I needed to go for a walk. Grabbing my coat I walked out of the house and headed down the street. The sun was up. I believed if they were a night monster they wouldn't follow me. They would hide in the shadows where they belonged. I walked along the beach so my trainers wouldn't get covered in the sand as I embraced the sun. I felt the sun warming up my skin and it made me excited. I smirked for a brief moment when my phone rang. "Be careful my love. One day the sun will burn." The voice spoke before hanging up. The voice was hoarse and husky. His words were a giveaway. He was a vampire and he wanted to damn me. He wanted to turn me into one. At least it confirmed he was a male. His voice frightened me and caused me to turn around. There was nowhere where he could be. It was far too open. Unless he was in the black-tinted car. Shit he was. Fuck my life. Do I run? I spun around and walked forward nervously. He couldn't get me if I was out in the open. Out in the sun. I was safe out here, but how long could I stay out here? I walked towards the pier when something buzzed in my pocket. Unknown: I'm not going to hurt you petal. You can enjoy the sun. It was nice to see you happy. I want you to embrace your last days till you're mine. I realised then a vampire was stronger than all forces put together.  Me: How long have I got left? Unknown: So polite to ask. A week. More if I am generous. Me: How long till you kill me? Unknown: A while. I will not kill you straight away. I want you to beg to be killed first. I sucked in a breath and put my phone away. I was not going to allow this monster to ruin my last few days of freedom. One thing I wasn't going to do was beg to be like him. I wouldn't be a monster. It wasn't who I was. I sat on the bench on the pier. Listening to the waves crashing against the rocks. Listening to the wind whisper. The birds fluttering by. Listening to my thoughts wander off.

I was thinking about what the monster would do to me when he kidnapped me. Would he hurt me? Rape me? Torture me? I wanted to know what he wanted from me. Would he tell me if I messaged him? If I messaged him, I would be luring him closer. It was a stupid thing to do. No sane person would ever do that. I guess if I was already damned. I slapped my forehead. I felt like a fool for my thoughts. I shouldn't message him, but I wanted clarification on my death so I could prepare. I wanted to know how I would be treated by my capture. Was that so wrong to know? Surely not. It wasn't like I was being captured by a human. I was being taken by a monster. Something inhuman. Me: What is your name? Can I know that? I waited for him to answer but he didn't so I gave up. He wasn't going to tell me. There was no point pushing the chapter to tell me more information in case I riled them up or added to their obsession. Now that was the wrong thing to do. The right thing to do was go to my Grandmother's house and listen to the creepy readings she was currently reading. That was the right thing to do. Except when I got there Grandmother was out with her friend Avis again. Leaving me alone. Possibly endangered. What could my grandmother do anyway? Wack him with her walking stick. I'm sure he'd win anyway. I picked up the book my grandmother was reading and it was called SKZ Mate by The Random Page. I nonchalantly flicked through and read a couple of pages to pass the time when I ended up engrossed in the book. Maybe grandmother does have good taste in books. Just not men. That was a joke everyone told themselves as Grandfather died from a horse chase on a lad's holiday in Spain. Apparently, he and his friends had annoyed these horses and they ended up chasing Grandfather to his death. It was ironic considering grandfather was always up to no good in his youth. Grandfather was known to pull random stunts with his friend so it wasn't a surprise he died in that way. It was a story to go by. At his funeral, Grandmother was said to have scolded him for having an early grave. It was a shame as I never got to meet him. He sounded hilarious and a stereotypical man. Some say my father was like him until he met my mother. She grounded him some say. It was also said that my father stalked my mother until she agreed to go on a date with him, so I guess mother and daughter alike. Except I had a planned kidnapping. Did it bother me that my stalker wasn't responding? A little bit. I had no idea why I was so bothered by it, but I was. I at least wanted him to communicate with me so I could become familiar with him until I died. Not become dead but dead buried in the ground. I sighed at my thoughts. It was like I was yearning for him already. I was ridiculous and I was blaming it on my hormones since I was due on. I had no idea when I was due but I was. I just prayed he wasn't a vampire and wasn't appealed to it. I hoped he was the vampire that saw it as deceased blood and it didn't bother him. I was praying for it at this point.

Did my prayers come true? Absolutely not. Days later I woke up to change my bin that was filled with tampons and I found them gone. All gone. I could see they were once in the bin as the bin bag was stained red but they were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a note was there. Thank you for your deliciousness. Chan x I learned the monster's name was Chan as he answered my text message a few hours later. Apparently he sleeps during the day. Which made me gather he was a vampire. The traditional stereotypical vampire that sleeps during the day and comes out at night. The one that burned during the day. My stalker continued to text me throughout the days. Asking me how I was as if he was trapping me into kindness. Sometimes I started to fall for it. Each day he was more curious about the things I liked. Each day he dropped me a present. A book on vampires. Some pyjamas. Another day it was flowers. He was softening me up for the day he would take me. Take me away from my family. My Grandmother.

18+ Taglist for those who are not turning back

@catlove83 @itsyourleilei @whatudowhennooneseesyou @leeknot @estella-novella @fackeraccount @eastjonowhere @cocofia143 @jennibahng @noerinspace @sleepingmissingprincess @ye0lkkot @hiitsmebbygrl16 @shhimhereforsmut @jaeminie-cricket @stayceebs97 @ritiiiiiii @chlodavids @beautystarry @hyunjinhoexxx @hash2013 @jeonginontopforever @catnipchannie @kaqua @fairy-lixie @myflowercloud @galaxy4489