#nobody can defy me

[greyangelpain]

TIME FOR THE 200TH WATCH >:)

[pallases]

quite pleasantly surprised by wicked movie but i Will say we were robbed of elphaba leaning in close to glinda saying “come with me to the emerald city” followed by glinda’s “i’ve always wanted to see the emerald city” while looking deep into her eyes arms around her shoulders twirling elphaba’s hair

[pbaintthetb]

lol season 3 of merlin is so like... Morgana's constantly in her window watching evil smirk mode (eyerolls) and fails quite a bit

but then those moments, those few precious moments where Morgana gets to do more than smirk and gets to be 100% fully open and honest with Merlin- like that bit in Castle of Fyrien HAUNTS ME "I don't get why anybody would want to hurt their friends " ->"No, you just poison them." Is one of the harshest exchanges the two of them deliver, s3e01 where morgana leaves Merlin for the Serkets

the bits where it's jus them and nobody else and they can finally unmask and be real with each other an-

Oh wait. Even now Merlin's wearing a mask. She thinks she finally gets to see the true merlin just as he gets to see the true version of herself. The man who would poison his friends and the woman who has had enough of supporting the system designed to kill her. Even now Merlin's lying to her. god

[gyaruhana]

please do one where Thanos starts off as your unlikely ally in the games, protecting you from danger and helping you survive. Over time, his protectiveness becomes obsessive, and he begins eliminating anyone he sees as a threat to keeping you by his side even as you start to notice his unsettling behavior you can’t escape his grasp🙏

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - yandere bf

Synopsis: In an attempt to escape from Thanos, you join a game promising money that will help you escape him. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have joined the game.

A/N: I may have combined this with two other requests bc they were all so similar so.. i hope thats okay !!

Warning: yandere thanos, choking

If you had told your younger self you’d be in a game of death with 45.6 billion won up for grabs, you wouldn’t believe it. And yet, it’s true. After the tragedy that was Red Light, Green Light where many people met a rather unfortunate fate, you realized it’d be in your best interest to find someone you can trust and form an alliance with them.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Thanos, happened to also be a part of the games and had been watching you from a distance since he spotted you in the first game. You had originally wanted to get away from him because he was nothing but toxic though now it seems Thanos was one step ahead of you. That, or you just had terrible luck and Thanos decided to come here on his own accord. 

You didn't have time to think about it though because he suddenly got up and left his little group behind to make his way straight to you. He didn't seem happy at all. Perhaps it was because the last conversation you two had was an argument that was left off on a bad note. 

“Where have you been? Were you avoiding me? That makes me really fucking mad, you know,” he says as he grabs your wrist so you can't just walk away from him. Not like there was anywhere to go now. You were stuck with him here. 

“I was just taking some time for myself,” you respond defensively. You really just wanted to get away from him which is why you were here in the first place. Your original plan was to win some money and then disappear so you'd never have to deal with Thanos and his crazy behavior again. It was suffocating to be near him.

“Time for yourself? Don't fucking lie to me,” he says as he brings you closer to him. Nothing about him was gentle. Not his touches, or his kisses, or anything. “Well, you've had your time. You're not leaving my side now,” he continues as he looks down at you with a glare. He wasn't leaving any room for you to defy him. In his eyes, you belonged to him. You were his property and that meant you couldn't go rogue and do what you want. 

“You don't get a say in that,” you say as you lean back slightly to try to create some distance between the two of you. He lets out a bitter laugh before grabbing the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair, and forcing you closer. “Yes, I do. In case you forgot, you're stuck in a death game with me. Do you really think anyone else will help you? Nobody else here gives a fuck about you. The moment they get the chance, they'll let a bullet go through your head,” he says as he looks down at you with a slightly crazed look. 

You'd like to make a counter point but he’s not exactly wrong. A lot of the people here didn't seem to be trustworthy. Not like Thanos was any better but he probably wouldn't purposely kill you if you didn't piss him off, right? As much as you didn't want to, you realized you didn't have much choice. Unless you want to make an enemy right after the first game, Thanos was your only hope of surviving the rest of the games.

“That's better. Just keep your pretty lips shut and let me do the talking,” Thanos spoke with a slight smirk. You didn't respond to that knowing that you'd likely make some sarcastic quip that would piss him off if you did. You didn't have a choice this time. You couldn't run away to another country. You had to give in just this once.

You'd soon come to regret that decision. 

Somehow, Thanos had only gotten worse. He was always right next to you, no matter what. Either his hand would be over your shoulder or he'd have a tight grip on your waist. When it was lights out, he'd force you to sleep in the same bed as him. He'd kiss you all the time too but it was always rough with teeth clashing against each other and his tongue shoved down your throat.

You didn't notice it got worse until it was far too late. 

The moment of realization was during the third game. The game was called ‘mingle’ and it was simple enough. A number would be called out and you'd have 30 seconds to form a group of that number before getting inside one of the fifty rooms. 

Everyone stood on a circular platform in the center of the room and, per usual, Thanos had his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him as he spoke to his other stupid friend. The platform began to spin slowly as a childish song played. When the platform came to a sudden stop and a number was called out you formed a group and ran into a room. 

It was all going fine as you planned strategic moves and managed to keep on surviving. At least, it was going well. Until the last round when the number 2 was called. 

Thanos had immediately taken your wrist and dragged you towards a room, leaving behind his idiot friend without a second thought. However, the room was quickly stolen by two other players. You thought Thanos would just go to the next room over but that was not what happened.

Instead he pushed open the door and immediately grabbed one of the guys by their hair. He didn't think twice before he forced him out of the room. The other guy made an attempt to help but Thanos slammed him against the wall, his hand going around his throat as he choked him. The look in his eyes was far more scary than you remember. You could hardly process what was happening before the guy was punched in the face and pushed out of the room. 

Thanos pulled you in just before the door closed and locked. The sound of gunshots rang out soon after as Thanos huffed in annoyance. He looked guilt free despite the fact he was very much responsible for the death of two people. Actually, now that you really thought about it, he had killed other people in the previous games too.

Fuck. You were beginning to regret your choice of becoming his ally. You'd have much rather found someone else who could protect you from him because he was clearly fucking crazy. Crazier than he used to be. You thought he was just a manipulative, toxic bastard. You didn't think he'd be truly capable of murder. 

“Fucking dickheads,” Thanos mumbles under his breath with annoyance before glancing at your face. The corner of his lips quirked up when he noticed your expression and he wandered in front of you. “What? Something wrong?” He spoke though he already knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You killed those people,” you said as you looked up at him with a combination of fear and disbelief. He laughed in response before reaching a hand up and grabbing your face. “For you, baby. I fucking killed them for you,” he said as he looked down at you with a smirk. He found your expression such a turn-on really. The idea you were afraid of him meant you'd submit to him and that's all he wanted.

“You're fucking crazy.. crazier than I thought,” you spoke as you tried to step back and create some distance between the two of you. In response, he slammed you against the wall and got very close to you. 

“You're only just realizing this? You don't realize when I snapped the ankle of that bastard who looked at you so he'd lose? You didn't realize when our ‘friend’ and I returned but he had a bleeding nose?” He spoke as he got into your face with a dangerous grin. Well, when he said it like that, it became abundantly clear he had been killing and hurting people left and right since day one and all for you. You just had been too caught up in his behavior towards you that you didn't notice how he acted with others.

“Mm. Fuck, I love that look on your face. You're so afraid. Good. Because you're going to learn that you're mine forever, yeah?” He spoke as he brought a hand to your throat and squeezed it tightly. He let out a laugh as he choked you like it was the funniest thing in the world before slamming his lips to yours in a rough kiss. 

It was then you realized that, no matter how hard you tried to escape, you were his now - you always have been - and you will never taste freedom on your tongue again.

[bakugoushotwife]

in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

[kayesfanfics]

Can you do Magneto x reader

Were Magneto finds the reader to ask if they’ll be his queen (NSFW if you feel comfortable)? 🫶🏾

A/N: OF COURSE I CAN. I did turn it into a marriage proposal as well, hope that’s okay! Also this part of their dance made me FERAL over this old man-

Warnings: NSFW, fem! Reader

“Will you rule Genosha beside me…and be my queen?” Erik asked from down on one knee before you, one hand holding yours and the other holding a small velvet box, a beautiful silver ring with a delicate diamond glimmering up at you.

Your heart ceased its beating, your breath caught in your throat, the world seemed to stop around you. It felt like you were the only two people in the world. He chose sunset to propose, the sky was a beautiful shade of pink and brilliant orange outside, accenting his pink lips and beautiful blue eyes gazing up at you with love and adoration.

“Erik, I…yes! Yes of course I will!” You beamed down at him, embracing him when he stood up to kiss you passionately.

Erik had been planning this proposal for some time now, keeping it secret for months by now. The only person that sort of new was none other than Scott Summers (and probably Jean/Madelyne) because he had asked how Scott had proposed to Jean. Other than that, nobody had any idea he would be proposing, including you. The two of you had been together for a few years by now, you shared his same vision of a world built for mutants where they would be safe. You stood beside him and supported him through everything, joined him in leading the X-Men after receiving Charles’ will, defending him when the team defied him. Now, you were at Genosha to attend the gala, welcoming the nation to the UN. With everything going on, Erik didn’t know that this would be the right time to propose, but it just felt right to do it in this moment.

“I love you, Y/N. So much.” He breathed between desperate kisses, his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you as close as humanly possible.

“I love you too, Erik.” You smile into another kiss, keeping his face close to yours by holding the back of his head and standing on your toes to wrap your arm around his neck.

“I never want to leave your side. I want to be with you forever.” He trailed his lips down to your jaw, before attaching to your neck and sucking at your sweet spot just below your ear. You moan slightly at the action, arching into his touch as you subconsciously tug at his silver hair.

“I will be by your side forever.” You promised him, your other hand grabbing a fistful of his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer to you as his lips ravaged your neck. “Erik…~”

“Yes, my love?”

“I need you~” you moaned as he left one last mark on your neck, before grinning at you and hoisting you up to carry you, your legs wrapped around his slender waist as his lips reattached to your own.

You opened your mouth slightly to allow his tongue to enter, grabbing at his hair blindly as he walked towards the bed in the spacious penthouse room. He set you down gently on the soft sheets, bending down to be level with you as his hands wandered from where he held your hips to your waist, up your blouse to touch your skin. You felt a shiver run up your spine at the action as you let go of his hair to push his jacket off his shoulders, before he finished taking it off and tossed it aside to the floor. You sat back on the bed a bit to watch him strip his suit off, to which he quickly undid the buttons on his dress shirt and hastily shrugged it off. You but your lip seeing his toned abdomen and pecs, your eyes following the happy trail of silver hair that disappeared behind his pants. You let out a surprised yelp when he grabbed your legs and pulled, causing you to fall onto your back as you felt him kiss your knee, thumbs rubbing your thighs as his kisses trailed up your leg. He pushed your dress up to reach your underwear, pulling them down and off your legs to reveal your pussy, wet and glistening for him.

“My dear, you never cease to leave me breathless~” he purred, kissing your inner thigh once more, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Erik, you-OH!” You moaned out when you felt his tongue make contact with you. Your back arched off the bed and your head instinctively tossed back, your hair fanning out below you as your eyes clamped shut at the feeling. Erik’s calloused hands held your soft thighs in his hands, keeping them spread for him as his tongue worked at your pussy. He moaned into your cunt at your reaction, amused at how just a single swipe of his tongue made you writhe in his hold.

“E-Erik! Yes! Just like that! Right there!” You gasped as his tongue expertly ate you out, knowing the exact right spots to add more pressure to and where to tease just right. Your thighs started clamping around his head, this time he allowed it and let your legs keep him caged between them. His hands gripped out your hips, rubbing your sides as his head started to move more, focused on getting you to cum all over his tongue. You grinned your hips into his face, feeling that familiar coil inside of you begin to tighten as he lapped at your clit, sucking on it before licking it roughly. Your hands flew down to his hair once again and shoved him deeper into you, earning a moan from him at the action, knowing you were close. With a few more swipes of his tongue, you came undone, your body tensing up and shaking as you reached your orgasm. You let out choked moans as he lapped up your juices, cleaning you up and eating you out through your orgasm. Once he was finished, he wiped his mouth before climbing up to lie on top of you, pressing his lips soaked in your cum to yours. You gladly opened your mouth to taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into him as he ran a hand through your hair soothingly.

“I love you. You are so beautiful.” He huffed out, catching his breath as he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes. “You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You are extraordinary, mein Schätzchen.”

“I love you.” You smiled up at him, your hand moving to cup his face. Your thumb stroked his cheek, Erik leaning into your touch as you gazed into each others eyes lovingly. “You’re so determined, so powerful, so admirable. I am honored to stand beside you, Erik.”

“I am honored you stand beside me.” He took your hand and kissed your palm, shutting his eyes to savor your touch for a moment. He leaned down ever so slightly to rest his forehead against yours, your own eyes shutting too to relish in the moment with your new fiancé.

After a few minutes of just holding each other, Erik got up to finish undressing, before he helped you take off your fancy gown for the gala. You kicked off your high heels and unclipped your bra, tossing it aside before you beckoned him back to you with a finger and a smirk adorning your pretty face. Erik of course, couldn’t resist and crawled right back to you and mirrored your grin, before settling between your legs and leaning down to kiss you. One hand held himself up while the other trailed down to your pussy, still sensitive from your first orgasm as his palm rubbed it a few times before you felt two of his fingers enter you.

“Oh, fuck! Erik!” You tossed your head back, your jaw hanging open in a moan as you felt his fingers begin to prep you.

“Oh, the sounds you make for me…” Erik bit his lip as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your chest rising and falling rapidly as he picked up the pace of his fingers, the pad of his thumb grazing against your clit gently. He rested his body against yours to press kisses to the valley between your breasts, movingly his fingers and expertly finding that spot in you that made your hands fly up to claw at his bare shoulders. You choked out moans and whines as you came undone around his fingers, your nails now drawing blood from how hard you gripped him. Erik didn’t even flinch however, keeping himself occupied with leaving hickies on your breasts and sucking on your nipples, his fingers beginning to slow down, before he pulled them out gently and allowed you a moment to catch your breath. He then raised his hand to shove his fingers into your mouth, having you suck them clean of your slick before pressing a kiss to your lips when you were finished. You propped yourself up on your elbows when he moved to align his cock with your entrance, his top prodding at your hole as he pushed you back down onto the bed, grabbing both of your hands and intertwining his fingers with yours and holding them on either side of your head.

“Are you ready?” He asked, as if you hadn’t taken him a hundred times before. He was always caring and loving like that though, always making sure you were comfortable and still enjoying your time in bed with him.

“Yes, love, please!” You begged him, needing him inside of you, feeling so empty and unsatisfied despite already orgasming twice while he hadn’t at all yet. He chuckled at your response, tucking a strand of messy hair behind your ear, before squeezing your hand and starting to push into you. Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you felt him slide in easily, your opening nice and slick from your orgasms, allowing him to easily enter you. Once bottomed out, Erik pressed his forehead to yours to allow you both a moment, before his hips began to move.

“Y/N, you feel so…oh! God, I love you!” Erik groaned as he felt you squeeze around him, your lips finding his jaw and placing sweet kisses on it to encourage him to keep going. His hands clutched yours tightly, and he let out a small moan as your soft lips danced along his jawline.

“Show me how much you love me~” you purred up at him, one of your hands leaving his own to tangle in his hair, pulling his face towards yours to capture his lips against your own. The both of you moaned into the kiss as he picked up his pace with his hips, his now free hand grasping at one of your breasts and fondling it. Your breath hitched when his tip hit you deep inside, sending a shiver up your spine and making your hand clamp around his at the feeling.

“Oh! Right there! Right there! Please, Erik!” You broke the kiss with him, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he hit that spot again and again. You let out a loud moan when he began hitting that spot harder and faster, using his free hand to now hold himself up on the bed for support. Erik smiled down at you as you began to writhe beneath him, your hips moving to meet his now as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“I’m here.” He chuckled at your desperation, holding your hand firmly and raising it to kiss the back of it. “I’m here, Y/N.”

“E-Erik! I-I’m gonna…! Oh! Fuck! Erik!” You began to scream, feeling yourself begin to reach the edge.

“That’s it…cum for me, my love. I’m almost there too.” He panted above you, continuing his pace and feeling you tighten even more around him, making it harder to push in and out of you as your pussy sucked him back in. You whimpered as you neared your high, your hand that was tangled in his hair moving to scratch at his shoulder blades again, needing something to ground you as you finally toppled over the edge. Your body spasmed and shook, letting out a screaming moan at the intensity of your orgasm as he fucked you through it. You soon felt Erik cum inside of you, his warm sperm filling you as he moaned with you, his hips shaking and stuttering against your own.

Once your climaxes both dissipated, Erik pulled out of you and collapsed beside you on the bed, chest heaving as he caught his breath. You felt your body twitch from the orgasmic shocks coursing through you as you moved to lay on your side, resting your cheek against his pec. Erik kissed you on the forehead and ran a hand through your hair, resting his lips on your soft skin and relishing in the moment with you, basking in the intense love the both of you felt in the air for each other.

“We should get ready for the gala. People will wonder where we are.” You finally spoke after minutes of silence, lifting your head to look at him and cup his face in your hand.

“Let them wonder for a few moments more.”

[ikkosu]

TO LIVE, AND TO SERVE

part one

(tfo. sentinel x gn.miner.reader )

spoilers! just in case. nothing plot heavy spoilers but yk just in case.

one, two, three

CHAINS clinked against the ground. Ones, you realize that were yours as you try to lift up your pedes, only for it to stop short a few centimeters high and drag back down again with a hackle. Alright, so you're shackled. Easy, just flip over and see where I am.

You tried. Tried. To flip over, but all you could manage was a wiggle and that's just about it. Your servos were chained to your back. And your neck was sore bent at a position for so long. The ground was grimy and dark and your cheek — Primus it was sore —was pressed against the floor.

Where am I?

A migraine pulsed behind your optics, coupled with a familiar faint ache thrumming from your abdomen, freshly sore.

Oh, right.

A kick to the shin and one to the helm. A blur of colors. Then, a throttle. Darkwing, you grimaced. You should've known better than to play hero and help. A creak sounded, hinges of a metal door opening and your neck strained from frantic ways of trying to look over your shoulder.

—Proved futile.

"Oh, you don't have to run." A voice echoed, a cave-like resonance that trilled and bounced off the walls of the cell. "I've already made sure that you couldn't."

The shadow stretched across the floor. It became larger, molding in size. Into shape. You try to speak, but all that came out were incoherent slurs of sentences. Each one increased with panic. Intake, slack, faceplate numb. And that, to your unfortunate demise, amused the Prime.

"No worries, though, Airachnid's venom aren't usually that fatal. Well, usually. But this time I advised, and I'm glad she listened, to use her lesser death-inducing ones. Ones that take an instant. Its a bit of a mess when anomalies die."

His pedes stopped beside your helm. "And you know that... don't, you?" Another babble from you made him laugh. "Hah. You look ridiculous. Here, allow me."

A harsh tug on your back flipped you over and you grunted, finally able to relish some light from the ceiling. Sentinel prime loomed above you, a grin on his face.

Oh, Primus.

You never thought this was how you'd meet your beloved Prime. Besides, any other way would result your spark snuffed and churned into energon. The ache in your abdomen pierced into a searing pain. You winced.

"You know what that is? Its a kind of paralysis that only affects your body, not your helm." He tapped your forehead.

Tink.

Tink.

"Your mind still works. You can think, you can feel. I can see your optics are still bright." He tips his helm, curiously amused. " Still got that little fire in you, huh. And you're scared. You're scared, yes?"

Silence. You only stared back, chassis pumped with andrenaline. What else you were suppose to say, blegh blegh blegh?

" Silly me. Blink twice if you're scared."

You blinked once.

"Oh?"

Then another slow blink.

"That's what I thought. Now," he knelt beside your helm. The tight smile on his face was nothing genial. " What did I tell you about miners going around creating troubles for me to fix. "

Sir! It wasn't what it was! You rustled, moving you mouth. Nothing came out. Whether Sentinel was aware of the incident or not, it seemed he chose to ignore the possibility that you might be right.

" Not only you defied a supervisor, you also kicked him and destroyed — let me see," He tapped your cheek, tink tink tink, optics to the ceiling, thinking. "Oh yes, almost blew up crates worth of decades use. Injured five of my gaurds. Many more, probably. And, why is that? To make a point nobody will understand. To make a point that's virtually worthless?"

You shook your head.

We couldn't go on any longer. Sir, please.

We are free.

We need to be free.

"Your little speech was adorable. That mineer you saved, oh how melodramatic. Unfortunately like you, he's not going to have the opportunity of choosing his punishment."

Your optics widened and you froze. That look on your face seemed to please him and he lunged forward. You choked as he grabbed your face, pulling your head up to his level.

"It's a shame." He crooned. " You miners are so delicate. Its a miracle you managed this much through the mines already." The other servo grabbed your throat. He sighed, and tightened both grips.

The accumulating andrenaline allowed you to kick below in panic. The venom was dissapating. You feel a little pulse in your pedes, as well as the sensors blooming back on your digits.

"Now, I'll give you two options" He leaned closer. "And I'll only say this once. You can serve Cybertron and it's people — or,"

The servo clutching your throat released and glided down, down and lower...

" Or, you can serve me. Your Prime. Your leader — What will that be?"

Your optics flickered, staring back into his blue ones.

You faintly reminisced bumping into a miner on the street while heading down to the main square of iacon. You've just had your pay, a few hundred shanix clutched in your servos and the collision smeared them across the ground. Frantic, you tried to pick them up, ignoring the several laughters from the bots above — and the miner did too. They were just like you, except...

"Here," They said.

You look up.

They were pretty. Well kempt. A gentle smile on their face. Their platings were shiny, glossy. Without a scratch.

You were confused.

They were just like you. No cogs. No nothing.

"Oh, you're at a different sector, then?" You remember asking.

The miner blinked and frown, chagrined as he handed the last slip of shanix and looked away. You couldn't asked more. A mech with gleaming gold platings dragged them away.

The last look he gave was a somber look before looking ahead. Never back.

You remember being confused. A little irritated at such a display the senator took them away.

But, now. Now, it all made sense.

Is that what it was?

A toy for them to play with?

"I'll...serve....you...." You croaked out.

But even so, at least you're able to live.

"Good mech."

[mothercoconuts97]

I'm probably sooo late to the party on this but it occurred to me in the shower and gut punched me so now everyone else has to know about it

So obviously I'm a big Deadpool fan. Adore the comics, love the movies. Was super excited for Deadool & Wolverine, obvs. Fully expecting to cry my guts up in the theatre like I did for Deadpool 1 & 2. I really really enjoyed it (and the Honda Odyssey scene haunts my sex dreams) but I didn't get that same emotional reaction.

This scene here, in Deadpool 2? Fucking wrecked me. Every time I watch it, I sob. Wade goes through so so much to get Vanessa back, he loves her so much that he would travel through time for her. I can't overestimate how much this affects me; my wife and I even had the MTV Unplugged version of A-Ha's "Take On Me" as our first dance. It's our song, because Wade and Vanessa's love is as strong as ours.

I went into DP&W ready to sob if they took Vanessa away from Wade again. But they didn't, because that's how the movie starts. Wade's already lost Vanessa, and not because some bad guy took her away. It just...ended, like even the best relationships do. I didn't like that. How could Wade go through all of this, over 2 movies, to be with Vanessa, just for it to fall apart? (It may not help how strongly I identify with Wade and it seemed like they were saying my relationship too could fall apart one day through nobody's fault but mine, but that's another issue)

What finally snapped into place in my brain today is that, in DP&W, Wade's role is changed.

He still does the hero thing, naturally. But this time it's Logan who is risking it all to save Wade. Logan tears through a fkn steel door to get to Wade, to try help, or at least not let him die alone.

For once, Wade has someone defying impossible odds for him, he has someone risking their life for him. That's probably never happened before, at least for Movie Wade. Finally, someone is trying to save him, someone thinks he's worth saving (if we're working under the assumption I'm self-inserting here, we can agree that my trauma minefield of a brain didn't even see that as an option)

So, I left the cinema happy with the film, but a bit underwhelmed with the emotional climax. Wade kicked ass as usual, but he didn't squish my heart like a mushy tomato as he did before.

It took a loooong time but my brain finally caught up. I got the gut punch. Now I need to watch it again and be prepared to sob my eyes out

[sweetbunpura]

Yuu singing defying gravity from Wicked. Listening to it and thought Yuu.

I LOVE THE WICKED OST!

I didn't see the new one, but I'm gonna use the OG one~

Vil crossed his arms as he walked down the empty hallways. With VDC tribe picked, he was starting to wonder if this team would really be the one to take the gold. Upon Rook's request, he had chosen the Heartslabyul's spudlings, even if they were untrained and with hardly a note of coordination between them. Jamil and Kalim were perfect when it came to movement, but their singing needed work. That just left Epel, since he knew Rook and himself were fine on that front.

"I'm truly given such an underdog team, aren't I?" Vil sighed.

"Something has changed within me."

Vil paused as he heard a voice from a classroom behind him. He backed up and spotted the door that had been cracked opened. Pushing it open, Vil poked his head inside to see....Yuu? She held a broom in her hands as she sang in a small voice before it started to pick up in power and range.

"I'm through accepting limits, cause someone says they're so. Some things I cannot change, but til i try I can not know."

Vil could hear the imaginary band rise in power as she continued.

"I'd soon buy defying gravity!"

He watched as she acted out the scene, playing both parts flawlessly. She hit the notes as correctly as she could, but Vil could hear the strain in her voice.

"So if you care to find me, look towards the western skies!" Yuu smiled. "As someone told me lately, 'Everyone deserves a change to fly!'" She spun around using the broom. "And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free! To those who'd ground me, take a message back from me!" Her voice raised in pitch. "Tell them how I am defying gravity! I'm flying high, defying gravity! And soon I'll match them in renown!" Yuu took a deep breath. "And nobody in all of Oz, no wizard that there is or was, is every gonna bring...."

'C'mon, Potato, hit the note.'

"Me down!"

Vil found himself stepped further into the room.

"Bring me down!"

He may not know what the full context of the song was, but Vil could guess from how powerful she was singing it.

'Once more, Yuu.'

"Aaaaahhhoooahhh!"

Yuu ended the song with a deep breath and a cough. She shook her head and twirled the boom around.

"Try not to ruin your voice, Homura." She chastised herself.

Vil started clapping, causing her to jump and star at him with wide eyes.

"Schoenheit!? When did!?" She looked around wildly. "Y-You didn't hear any of that, did you?"

"Not all of it, but enough to cement my decision."

"Huh?"

"You're joining the VDC, Potato."

"Huh!?"

[jupitermoontarot24]

18+ 👄 Their Current Sexual Thoughts 🫦

Hi guys welcome back! FOR MORE EXCLUSIVE CONTENT FOLLOW ME ON PATREON :)

Piles 1-5

Pile 1 👄

Your person's sexual fantasies currently could be to discover different sides of you. this person could have known you for a long time so they've seen you in different elements but I .think they want to see this sexually. it could be a big emphasis on how you smell. so they might want to see how you smell on a daytime date versus a nighttime date versus a second date and on and on. yeah you smell really good to this person or at least they imagine you to smell really good. they would collect your perfume if they could. like they definitely want your body bottled up .I don't think this person's sexual fantasies are too crazy. I think they really genuinely like you and they don't over sexualize you because of this. it's like almost a best friend type of vibe but of course they're in love with you. but they have a lot of respect for you so when they fantasize about you it's not about your body, it's more about your essence and your smile, the way you smell the way you dress, the way you walk into the room. they think about you a lot at work, especially when they drink they think about you heavily. I think they really fantasize the most about going on different dates with you. like how you would dress on these different dates, how you would wear your hair and style your makeup stuff like that. They actually could be asking for advice; they could be talking to different people about what they should do. they probably shown your pictures to their friends or their family. they're very fond of you and they love to show you off but I think that they're so in love with you that it kind of makes them shy a little bit. They love you a lot pile one this is beyond a crush you are the love of this person's life. I think they fantasize about running into you at a party or at a club and you guys going home together off the spur of the moment. I think this person fantasize about having sex that transmutes time and energy. they could already have sex with you in the 5D if you allow it. but it's something really magical about the sex that you guys will have at least that's what they think about. it's very nourishing on a soul level. but they really just fantasize about slow sensual groundbreaking sex. even if it does get rough it's still very loving and reassuring. This person could also have a breeding King but for you so they  fantasize about getting you pregnant like 100%. or just having a child with you but you guys mixing your DNA together and become parents. and then providing for you they're coming up as a king of Pentacles so they actually do want to like be a father/mother and actually provide financially. yeah they want to have baby with you bad. I feel like they feel as tho a baby with you it's not just for control but I think they would feel like outside sources would be cut off. like nobody will be able to tell them how to navigate this relationship with you because now you guys have a baby together so only you guys can make the decisions because now you're a family and it's different than you just being two single people trying to navigate a relationship. yeah that's their sexual fantasies. 

Pile 2 💙

This person's current sexual fantasies is having angry sex? or make up sex? so like maybe you guys have not been seeing eye to eye so when you get together you guys sex out the anger and then it turns to make up sex. It may even get emotional to some degree is what they fantasize about. Yeah this person could have done something that pissed you off. but they still are so attracted to you they still think that you guys make a really good couple and that you guys are good together but right now it's something that is not matching up. Whatever this is is really weighing down on this person. this person is not taking this lightly at all; they might even have cried about it. I feel like they will definitely cry during the sex as well are or they fantasize about crying during sex or before. this person is really emotional about you. they love you and I think that maybe you're on the the brink of leaving or breaking up and maybe they feel like there's stuff that they didn't get to tell you or stuff they didn't get to show you before this ended something like that. You might have a lot of suitors or just somebody else that you like and this person is afraid that you're breaking up with them and you're going to go to somebody else. so their current sexual fantasy is to have a conversation and talk about it and that leads to sex very passionate love making. If you do have another person this person might even agree to being a side piece? or you having both suitors, like they'll agree to sharing you if that's what it takes.  they really don't want to lose you. This person is really sad right now I'm not going to lie to you. but I think they do fantasize about seeing you bath or your body being wet fresh out the shower. they definitely want to drink with you smoke with you, have dinner with you and have this conversation and then get really nasty in the bedroom. yeah they want you to pack a spend the night bag and stay with them and they just dominate you. they want to be tied to you in some type of way. This person is not going to let you go, they love you too much, they love you too deeply so whatever they got to do they're just going to do it. it's not really sexual because I feel like their emotions are overpowering the sexual nature of this but they definitely do want to have sex with you. they do want to make love with you and I feel like even the sex is going to be very emotional. you guys are going to cry, laugh, smile just bear it all. so that's their current sexual fantasies for you. If this is same sex and you're into both sexes say if you have a boyfriend this person wants to be your girlfriend lol.

Pile 3 💗

This person's current sexual fantasies is to call you up and ask you why you been wilding out on social media. I don't know if you've been trolling or you just been saying things online but this person has been watching you very much so. I think it's been turning them on not going to lie but what's turning them on even more is them confronting you about it. so you know those memes  when people text their partner and they be like take that down off of social media this is what this person is giving. I just heard you acting too single so maybe this person feels like you doing too much or you going off like you single and you're not. even if you are lol this person wants you to dial it back a little bit but not really. it's like it turns this person on but at the same time it makes them angry so yeah. It's something about you like you could pose differently every day or it's just something to where you morph into different versions of yourself and they love watching that.  I think they really want to hear how you're going to respond to them. That's what's really turning them on.  hearing what you're going to say to explain yourself, the explanations you're going to give and the excuses to get out of it. There could be a age difference here. cuz it almost gives me like having to call your parents and tell them why you got suspended or something. this person is really turned on though. it's like they like the fact that you've been a bad girl / boy so they can take it out on you and belike“yeah what's all that stuff that you was saying?” .You guys could be playing this game of cat and dog and I feel like I just said that in my previous reading about somebody and their soulmate. it might have even been pile 3 honestly.  there's this Chase like you've been running from this person and they've been chasing you so hard and it's like they're not going to stop. it's almost addicting alluring like they can't stop even if they try like this siren energy. This person their sexual fantasies right now is to catch you and make you perform for them. they feel like you've been performing and acting on social media so they want to see that in person. they want you to back up all that you've been talking if you know what I mean. it's like if you've been acting really sexual online that's what they want and not even sexually vulgar but just if you've been teasing them online or just teasing at all that's what they want to see, but in a very intimate way. like they want it to be special and natural and forthcoming.  not forced or rough or anything like that they just want you guys to be happy around each other and be your true self. so if you like to sing they want you to sing for them they want you to dance for them if that's what you've been hinting at like maybe if you put a lot of songs on your social media they want you to sing these songs to them and dance to these songs for them. Yeah this person feels like you've been putting them off, you've been dissing them a little bit and they're going to pop up. I'm not sure in what way but this person is going to pop up on you and in a way you least expect it. 

Tyla - Breathe Me (Official Music Video)

J'calm - Call My Name (fficial Video)

Pile 4 💌

Your person's current sexual fantasies could be to stare at you in the face. you're very beautiful this person just likes the structure of your face. like with makeup without makeup you just have a very appeasing face.  I feel like it doesn't even matter what you wear whether you're dressed up, dressed down, like a tomboy, very feminine you're just so gorgeous. you're Aura is crazy.This person's sexual fantasy could be to hear you sing, they might feel like you can sing very well or dance very well. Okay so this person feels like your face card does not decline that might scare them a little bit. You can get anything from them and they cant even say no if they tried. This person sexual fantasy might be to spend money on you in order to keep you around. Yes  this person feels like you are so attractive that you could just easily go meet anybody else and they could do anything for you. so this person spends money on you even though they know that you might have other suitors. so you might have other ppl spending money on you and they're okay with that. it's like they might feel some type of way about it but they're still going to pursue you and still spend money on you because they don't want to be out the loop.Yeah I find this does make this person kind of intimated but they only show this by spending more time with you and money at least that's what their sexual fantasy is. honestly as I'm going through these different piles it seems like these are real life situations and not even fantasies anymore lol. if you go through moments of not talking to this person, you might block this person or just ignore them for a while they could feel like you're talking to other people you're going to see other people.  this person feels like you definitely have the World in Your Hands and you probably spin it when you are not around them. Yeah it's like they know that if they really left that you wouldn't care and you could just get somebody else and that kind of turns them on at the same time. it's like fomo like they have a fear of missing out so they don't really want to leave but they know that you're not going to be a Simp over them. So I think the current sexual fantasy is to continue to simp over you but in the end game they want you to be possessive over them eventually. like that's what they're manifesting that one day you'll become a queen of cups for them and you want them around guarding you to make sure that you don't be with nobody else or nobody else approaches you but honestly I don't think that will happen.Like I don't think that they want to switch roles necessarily I think their sexual fantasy is that in the end that you'll just choose them and that you guys will be happy.

DDG - Trickin' [Official Video]

Ann Marie - The One [Official Music Video]

Pile 5 🤍

So for you I think this person wants to have fun with you. they could want to have a conversation And tell you how they really feel. They really like your eyes and could fantasize about staring into them. Maybe while you give them oral or vice versa. this person might actually want to have children with you Or at least they fantasize about it. There might be a third party situation. it doesn't have to be a relationship but it could be.  this person could be a mother or they could just have responsibilities that make them more prone to being like a housewife or a mommy/daddy.  they might have to be in the house more, they might have to do chores, stuff like that so this person definitely could be somebody's parents. So you might only be able to see this person at night or at least that's their current fantasy is that you would pull up at night because during the day they might be dealing with their ex spouse or their children. If you DMed this person. They fantasize about DMing you back or they're going to DM you soon. I think you love this person and they love you too. I think this person thinks about the future with you. Tbh you might be thinking about right now and just getting with them but they daydream about how it would be to live with you or to have kids with you? or how you would be as a parent. Yeah this is somebody who definitely got hurt by their ex. their last relationship didn't end well. Their ex could have already moved on for some people. or they could have cheated, they could be seeing other people. I think they have some type of tie with them so they might have children with this person because there's something that keeps them tied together but whatever it is it makes your person angry. So this person's sexual fantasies is to escape to you. so they might live with this person or have a child with this person so they interact with them a lot but their sexual fantasies is to be with you instead. I think this person Daydreams a lot about you like your this person escape in their daily life. I think even if this person does get intimate with their ex they think about you during or after the sex they think about what it would have been like to have sex with you instead. while they're kissing on your person they can think about you or how you will look with your clothes off.  they lowkey get aroused by thinking of you. This person could be a Pisces. they don't have to be but they're really good at escaping in their mind. so while this person is kissing on them they could be thinking about you, while this person is having sex with them they can be thinking about you. and it's like almost like they are in their mind? This person's third eye is so strong that they can really disassociate mentally out of the sex. Tbh the only reason this person might have sex with them is because they're not having sex with you or to imagine you instead.  yeah I feel like this person only has sex with their partner when they can't take it anymore. so they might masturbate a lot to you but once  that doesn't satisfy them anymore they have sex with their partner and just think about you and it feels like they're having sex with you. Or maybe sometimes when this person is on good terms with their ex they submit to it but they still think about you either way.

Lola Brooke - No One Else (Official Video) ft. Jeremih

CENTRAL CEE X RAYE - MOI (MUSIC VIDEO)

CHECKOUT MY OTHER READINGS WHILE YOURE THERE!!!

CATCH YOU THERE ;)

xoxoxoxo

[feraltragedy]

Ok, here it is, my very first fic! Sorry if it's absolute dog water. Bad sense of humor and a Foy Vance quote ahead.

Unholy Throne

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

CW: language, smut, oral m&f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, adult themes, mild(?) Drug use (weed), mild injury (no blood or gore)

I think that's about it for warnings. 18+ MDNI

You had been friends with the boys for a few years now. Your friendship with Noah being unusually close, but nobody seems to bat an eye at the snuggling and occasional innocent flirting. It was commonplace for you to sit on his lap and even share a bed, but the closeness and flirting was only when it was the two of you or just the other boys around, never in public or around outsiders. You saw Noah as something more, you wanted more. But there's no way he sees you more than his feral little bestfriend. Right?

Bad Omens is on hiatus and you're taking a bit off from work to spend time with them. Today, it’s hanging out at their house with a few friends. You sport a cute black pleated skirt that falls mid thigh with a light baggy sweater that is honestly too loose as it keeps slipping off of one shoulder or the other. Not your usual go-to but youre feeling sassy, and everyone can tell with your spicy attitude. The blunt being passed around earlier only adding fuel to that fire.

Everyone is in the backyard already except for Folio, who needs a sandwich before he wastes away to nothing. You're standing leaned against the counter after making your drink, watching Noah rummage through the fridge for the third time in the last thirty minutes. He seems a bit antsy today. He has asked you twice now if you want to change into one of his hoodies, as if it's tedious to him that you keep pulling it back up on your shoulders.

You pull the sweater again just as Noah is closing the fridge and he sees out of the corner of his eye.

“Go upstairs and change into my hoodie.”

“I'm good, thank you though.”

“I wasn't asking, Y/N, go change.”

His firm tone caught you a little off guard, and he's sporting that scolding look on his face. Your sassy mood has flipped to bratty before you even realize it. Normally,you would never defy him and “no” wasn't even in your vocabulary.

“No.”

The kitchen fell eerily silent. Folio’s sandwich crafting came to a halt and you can see him in the corner of your eye looking like a timid cat. But your eyes never left Noahs and his never left yours. He subtly tilted his head, now narrowing his eyes in disbelief, and slowly steps towards you like a predator hunting prey. It's intimidating, but you maintain your bratty facade despite feeling like a cornered rabbit in front of a wolf.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you correctly.”

He was standing directly in front of you now, so close you can feel his breath fan across your face with each angry exhale.

“No.”

The tension is palpable. Folio has abandoned his perfect sandwich and is slipping out the back door. Noah's focus is trained on you. There's a glint in his eye but you can't quite decipher it. In his silence you speak again.

“I said no. What are you gonna do about it big boy, hmm? You gonna spank me…, daddy?”

Maybe it's just the weed, or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, but youre feeling taller than the trees right now. The way his eyes darkened at the new nickname did not go unnoticed by you. He's fully pressed against you now,your backside pressed to the counter. Fighting the urge to slide your leg up to his hip is almost a losing battle. You realize you are way in over your head and try to look anywhere but at the god before you. A tattooed hand comes up to rest on your neck, thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin to force you to keep your eyes on him.

“Real fucking bold, princess. Sweet thing has been bratty all day, now you wanna act shy.”

You bite your tongue to stifle a whimper. You're about to break right here in this kitchen while all your friends are right outside. Noah is just about to speak again when Matt swings the back door open. He comes in and grabs Folios' forgotten sandwich for him, you guess he had told Matt he was too afraid to retrieve it himself.

“You guys gonna join us outside or what?”

“Y-yeah sure, of course.” You stammer out as you manage to squeeze out of Noah’s grip and hurry to the door without looking back.

You see everyone sitting around the table carrying on a conversation and try to calm yourself as you approach to join them. Another blunt is being passed around and you are instantly relieved, no way you make it another second with your fast fading buzz. You take a hit and think to yourself that's why you were just in the previous situation, but now the dominos have already begun and you won't make it through the evening stone cold sober.

Noah hasn't given you a second look since he came outside just after you did. Maybe he doesn't feel the same and you're just reading it all wrong. Maybe it was a hallucination. Ruffilo taps your foot lightly with his to get your attention.

“You good? You looked a little far away there for a second.”

“I’m good, just trying to put off going to the bathroom. The weed makes my legs feel funny. I’m gonna go now though” you give a little laugh and head inside.

Your underwear is still a little wet from your book-tok moment with Noah so you just slide them off from under your skirt and toss them in the hamper. Your dirty clothes are in there anyways since you spent the last two nights there. The high hits real good just as you leave the bathroom. The memory of earlier fuzzy and at the back of your mind. As you make it back outside, its practically completely forgotten.

Jesse must have got here while you were upstairs, and is now sitting where you were before you got up. No big deal, you can just sit on Noah’s lap and steal someone else's seat whenever they get up. But as you go to lower yourself, a big hand is on your butt, pushing you back up. Confused, you turn to look at Noah as he looks at you with a hint of mischief on his face, so subtle you almost missed it.

“No.” Noah spoke plainly.

“What?”

“No.” A smirk played on his pretty lips this time and the memory is coming back to you. He's getting back at you for saying no.

If you could feel your face you're certain you would feel the blush that had to be creeping up at the memory. Hopefully the dim light from the nightfall will hide it from everyone else. You don't have to dwell on it too much longer as Folio is apparently starving despite that big ass sandwich he ate.

“Let’s go to the pizza buffet!”

The munchies must have its tendrils in everyone because the agreement is unanimous. You didn't even consider the amount of people versus the amount of seats in the van until Matt spoke up as everyone was getting ready to load up.

“We are one more person than there are seats. Y/N, you will have to sit in Noah’s lap.”

You're suddenly very aware of your choice to forgo underwear beneath your skirt. Your sweater slips down your shoulder and Noah audibly huffs as you pull it back up.

“Folio can sit on Jesse or Jolly! Just because I'm the shortest one here doesn't mean I have to be the one with a human for a booster seat every time there's too many people!”

Matt is over it and just got in the driver's seat. Most of the guys laughed in amusement. Folio threw his hand up in bewilderment but Noah cut him off before he could protest being the one with a human for a booster seat.

“Y/N get in the van now, you can have your tantrum after we get back.”

His tone was yet again firm, only this time you didn't dare disobey. You were, however, feeling just bold enough.

“Yes sir.”

He didn't give you a chance to see any reaction to the title, if there was any. He was climbing into the van with you in tow. With everyone in their seats, Matt took off in the direction of the pizza buffet. You would be thrilled to be on your favorite seat if your current wardrobe, or lack thereof, was not a situation of its own.

The trip is only two minutes in and the feeling of Noah’s breath on your neck is making your head swim. His hands rest on the tops of his thighs, on either side of your hips. Their warmth radiates through the thin fabric of your skirt, warming your skin that has been cooled by the chilly night air. You’re suddenly aware of your weight on his lap, the way his body perfectly fits under you, how inviting his torso feels against your back, the steadiness of the breaths fanning your neck and shoulder where your sweater slipped down again. The streetlights are the only glow in the night, you wonder if you can sneak a peek at how they illuminate his face. Before you can attempt to turn your head the tires screech and the van comes to an abrupt stop. The force of the hard braking caused you to slide forwards a few inches on Noah’s lap.

“Who the fuck pulls out in front of someone like that! If i hadn't been paying attention we woulda crashed right into those assholes! Everyone ok?

Immediately giving reassurance, voices rang with “yeah”s and “all good”s. A strong arm wraps around your waist and a warm hand slides under your thigh, pulling you back into place. Noah’s arm holds you tighter against his torso than you were previously. You felt secure.

He adjusted the hand under your thigh and you now realize there is nothing between your skin and his. The new placement puts his fingers just inches from your core, where the skin of your thigh is the softest. You try to ignore the thoughts you've had about those very fingers during lonely late nights chasing your orgasm. You're trembling ever so slightly, hoping he doesn't notice, or at least will blame it on the near accident. Your hopes are snuffed out as Noah chuckles lowly in your ear, which makes you clench around nothing. The way you are positioned so perfectly on his lap, you just know he had to pick up on it.

He leans his head in so the tip of his nose is just touching the shell of your ear. Somehow his breathing is still steady. You try to match your breaths with his to steady yours. He gives your thigh a squeeze and all hope of not letting him know the effect he has on you is completely gone. You're gone. You grind down on him, despite your own mental protest. He gasps so quietly that only you can hear it, the hand under your thigh maintains a tight grip. Your hands find the tops of his thighs, you grip tightly in an attempt to keep a hold onto reality. What you didn't expect was for his hips to roll up into yours which has you seeing stars.

Thankful now for the loud debate happening amongst all the boys about who knows what, as a small groan rumbled out of your chest. Your head lulls back and Noah’s lips ghost up your neck and settle on your ear. His breaths are now short and uneven. Maybe you weren't hallucinating, did you really have this effect on him?

“Need to feel how wet you are.” His whisper barely audible in the midst of all the other voices. It sounded needy, despirate.

You turned your head more towards him unsure if you could even speak coherently. “Please, Noah, please.”

“We're here!”

All euphoria Is ripped from your body like a bandaid and Matt's abrupt announcement has you stone cold sober. You look out the window of the van and see you have in fact arrived at the pizza buffet. Right, how could you forget the place is only about ten minutes from the house.

Everyone has piled out of the van and into the restaurant. You and Noah both wear flushed faces, praying to any deity that will take pity on you for nobody to ask about it. The adrenaline coursing through your veins masks your appetite but you know it's been a while since you've eaten, besides the pizza options actually look decent.

After you've all ate your fill, Folio enough for him and a horse, it's time to load back up into the cramped van. You take your place on your unholy throne, no argument and definitely no funny business this time. Mind racing a mile a minute, what were you thinking letting those events unfold in such close quarters with people you both spend so much time with. You can't wait to get out of there but the ride back now seems three times as long.

Back at the house bodies are scrambling to get clear of Folio's noxious gas bomb that could level a small city. Any lingering lust you may have had is definitely extinguished after that near death experience. You make a mental note to look on ebay for a gas mask. You're certain he should have to register his ass as a biological weapon.

You make your way to the kitchen, the greasy pizza wreaking havoc on your reflux. The tums aren't on the counter where you last put them. Of course someone put them with the other medicines on the top shelf in the cabinet. You're the only one that can't reach the shelf so none of the others would have given it a second thought.

The others are nowhere in sight. It's late, they are probably heading to bed after a night of beer, weed and pizza. You secretly hoped Noah would appear behind you to assist your reaching the tums, but alas, you're alone. Hoisting yourself up into the counter you finally reach what you need. Sliding one leg back off the counter you slip a bit on the material of your skirt causing your other leg to come down without an ounce of grace. A stinging on your shin brings your attention to the bright red scrape left in the wake of the counters edge.

“What happened, you ok?”

Noahs voice breaks your attention away from examining the stinging scrape.

“Yeah, just a little scrape. I couldn't reach the tums.”

“Why didn't you wait for me to help you? Let me take care of that.”

“I didn't know where you were, I assumed everyone had gone off to bed. And ‘that’ is fine I promise, just a scrape.”

You must have not heard him say he was going to the bathroom when you got back over the jokes about Folio playing the gluteal tuba. He tells you to let him just take a look anyways and you oblige him, following him upstairs to his room. You lean against the gaming desk as he lowers Himself to his knees to get a better look. Holding your calf in his hand to pull your leg closer, you can't help but be amused by the goofy look on his face.

“Oh yeah, I'll have to amputate this immediately!”

You laugh at his exaggerated demeanor.

“Nah you were right, you will be ok princess. No surgery tonight, just a kiss for it, doctor's orders!”

He plants a gentle barely-there kiss near the scrape on your shin. But his hands and lips are migrating up your legs

“I think that should cover it, doctor.” You giggle out.

“The doctor has left the building princess.” The playful look in his eyes has been replaced by something you can only describe as hunger.

That familiar sensation ignites your bones, making your head swim as you feel his lips on your mid thigh. His breath fans under your skirt along with his hands that have now reached your bare hips. It's easy to get lost in the clouds, Noah kneeling before you, igniting your skin like petrol soaked paper and fireworks.

His hand hooks under your thigh, lifting your leg and resting the bend of your knee on his shoulder. He looks up to you as if to see any hesitation. Finding none in your hooded eyes he dives in. A deliberate stripe of his tongue knocks the wind out of your lungs. Your hands weave into his hair as his movements become more that of a starving animal.

Your supporting leg starts to feel weak, orgasm already approaching due to the all day teasing. Noah must have taken notice, he effortlessly lifts you just enough to seat your ass on the edge of the desk. He wastes no time continuing his feast, only this time he inserts two fingers, almost immediately perfecting his position and rhythm. Both legs thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, palms on the desk defying your wavering muscles to hold your torso up.

Your skirt has bunched and rolled up, revealing the Roman artwork in front of you. Noah's big hands wrapped so perfectly around your thighs, fingertips indenting the soft skin like a Bernini sculpture. He groans when your thighs clamp around his head and it sounds like heaven. His pace is steady, the sensation of his mouth and fingers almost too much. An orgasm crashes over you like a tsunami and your arms can no longer hold you up, leaving you on your back.

He hasn't slowed down his movements despite how sensitive you are. Now it is overwhelming. The sensation is painfully delicious and your hips have a mind of their own as you ride his face into your next orgasm. His movements have come to a halt, but he stays in place to await you to still.

It seems irrational to think you could drown someone this way, but that thought crosses your mind anyways. You didn't even know it was possible to squirt outside of the few times you managed to make yourself. His hands move to the insides of your thighs just above your knees and you can hear his ragged breathing.

Those signs of life being all the confirmation you needed, you gather your strength and raise yourself up to get him in your line of sight. He hasn't let go of you but he is now sitting back onto the heels of his feet. He looks at you in awe and any insecurities you felt have vanished.

Raising up to stand he puts one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your thigh. His lust blown eyes never leaving yours. Both panting breathlessly.

“That. Was. Beautiful. So good princess.”

His lips are on yours for the first time and the taste of you on them is sinful. Tongues dancing, your legs wrap around his waist pulling him closer. You can feel the effect you have on him and grind against his erection. The heightened sensitivity causing you to moan which Is entombed by his lips. Your fingers tug at the hem of his shirt, urging him to take it off. You don't get to revel in the beauty of the tattoos littering his perfect skin as he moves in to pull your sweater over your head. Swiftly, he removes your lace bralette.

“You're a pro at that Noah, I didn't know taking off a bra was such a skill.”

“Surely you didn't think the only skill my fingers have is playing guitar?”

“If I did I definitely don't now.”

With that he wraps your legs around his waist and lifts you up. He sits on the bed and you are once again on your unholy throne. His skin is hot against your bare chest. One of your hands holds onto his bicep, the other ghosting fingertips over his neck. You've always admired the tattoos there. You seize the opportunity and plant kisses from his lips, along his jaw, and down the side of his neck.

There isn't an ounce of shyness in you now. Your hand leaves his bicep to tug on his hair, tilting his chin up and better exposing his neck. You kiss, lick, and nip at the skin to your heart's content. Making your way down his chest and stomach, you mentally map every inch of skin and ink. Upon reaching the waistband of his pants you return the look in search of permission. His face still painted with desire and hunger, he licks his pretty lips and nods his head. You undo the button and tug Down his pants and underwear just enough.

Nice cock.

You mimic his move with a deliberate tongue stripe up his length before taking him between your lips. Hollowing out your cheeks on the way up elicits the sweetest moan from him. Wanting to hear more You pick up your pace, your tongue and lips perfectly harmonized, now drawing out the prettiest moans you've ever heard. This 6’3 heavily tattooed metal head is coming undone beneath you. His hands are in your hair and he's a moaning mess.

A hand moves to the side of your face signaling you to stop. Before you can question him he speaks and it sounds like begging, almost whimpering.

“Gonna make me cum. Need to feel you.”

“Yes sir.”

He all but growls, standing as you do. He captures your lips in a needy kiss, one hand still gripping your hair. Your hands all over him before tugging at his pants. He breaks the kiss to remove what's left of his clothing. You reach for the waistband of your skirt but he is quick to stop you.

“Nu uh, keep this pretty thing on. It's been driving me insane since you put it on, I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you in it and now I'm going to.” He puts his hands on your hips to turn your back towards him. “Turn around, want you to ride me like I'm your throne. I know how much you love sittin’ on me princess.”

His statement would have made you blush if you weren't so empowered by your own lust. You follow his lead, waiting for him to be seated before claiming your throne. Sinking down on him slowly you try to find the balance between adjusting to him and fucking yourself dumb on his dick.

Once fully seated you pause to breathe for a moment. You refrain from quoting Olaf about being impaled. His arms wrap around you and he leans his chest into your back. His lips against your ear, breath hot against your skin, just like the van.

“Whenever you're ready princess, I got you.”

Not a moment longer you start moving. Being wrapped securely in his arms while he moans so slutty in your ear Is intoxicatingly erotic. Any attempt to keep the noise at a minimum has left and the room is filled with a mixture of both your moans and inaudible ramblings like the writing of a symphony. His arms move with you, holding you steady to help you keep your rhythm despite your shaky legs. His name falls off your lips over and over like a prayer that's sure to awaken the angels.

“Feel so good, taking me so good. That's it princess, doing so good for me.”

“Noahhh… god.”

“Can feel you're close baby, let go. Cum for me, claim me.”

His praises sending you over the edge, a mix of moans and curses flow from your mouth, his name coming out like a chant. Another orgasm wracks through your body, his following shortly after. He doesn't let go, neither of you move to separate. Your breathing is matched by his, short and heavy. His voice is low and husky In your ear.

“Always been yours princess. You claimed your throne the first time you had to sit on my lap when we all went out after that show in Vegas. Remember the van was so full even Folio had to have a human for a booster seat.”

You chuckle at the memory of Folio sitting in Jesse's lap, neither of them were thrilled. But you felt like you were right where you belong, like you were a queen sitting on her throne. An unholy throne.

Noah leads you to the shower so you can both get cleaned up after the day's events. Once you take your skirt off he jokes about finally seeing you naked for the first time. This man will never cease to amaze you.

After you're both clean and dry, Noah pulls out clothes. He would usually hand you one of his shirts to wear to bed, but this time he puts it on you himself. Such a small act felt so intimate. You felt claimed.

Sharing a bed and snuggling was nothing new, but this time was different. All the times you wished you could kiss his perfect nose and pretty lips while laying so close, now you are. You swear if he were a cat he would be purring, clearly loving your extra affections. Sleep greets you both soon, but not before a thought creeps in your head, hoping everyone else had been long passed out and deaf to the symphony that occurred in Noah's room.

The next morning, you walk downstairs together to see everyone else has woken up before you. It seems like you're in the clear, until overlapping mimicking of yours and Noah's perfect symphony is being screeched by all the boys at once. You almost feel embarrassed but Noah plops down on his spot on the couch, pulling you down with him. Sitting on his lap you feel at ease, finding yourself laughing at the boys’ antics. A tattooed hand finds it's way to your neck, thumb and finger gripping your chin to make you look at him. The smile on his face mirrors yours as he pulls you in for a kiss. Of course everyone had to be dramatic about that, one telling you to get a room, a couple others still making their exaggerated moans. These people are lunatics, and you feel at home.

[earlycuntsets]

english translation:

pg 1. "VISIONS

MUSIC FROM PASSION

www.visions.de

Gerard Way

and the fight against one's own image"

pg 2.

"Double attempt

my chemical rumanre

It is the story of an album that never became one and a band that is fighting against its external image: My Chemical Romance reinvent themselves as a pop art band, as futuristic Mad Maxes with funky laser guns in a universe of quotes, cross-references and broken meta levels. The end result is Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys - a record that would not exist in this form if My Chemical Romance had not failed at the first attempt.

TEXT: JAN SCHWARZKAMP

PHOTOS: SEBASTIAN ARTZ"

pg 3. " A new My Chem song with rough edges was Black Dragon Fighting Society, a hardcore hit in the Misfits style that suited the band perfectly. That's right: "was" and "stood". Because that too is now buried in the archives. "Some people will probably hate me for saying something like that, but: The song is more punk than punk. Nobody expected us of all people to record a song like that. The song was deliberately not meant to be longer than a minute and a half, because only the best songs are that short, if you think of Minor Threat alone." At this point, Gerard has no idea that he is about to make a new start and that Black Dragon Fighting Society will not survive. But there is something that will point the way for the future. A comic. "I'm currently working on a project called The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, which will be completely different to anything you've ever seen from me before. It will be my first adult comic, extremely violent. Imagine it as a sci-fi lo-fi punk odyssey, full of references to the Ramones and with a lot of laser-creaking." The stuff you can knit an album out of, as we will see.

SECOND ATTEMPT

End of September 2010, ten months later. A trailer for the new My Chem album has been circulating online for three days. Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys is what it is called. The trailer shows the four protagonists: Gerard, Mikey and the two guitarists Frank Iero and Ray Toro. No sign of black parade uniforms, but My Chemical Romance now look like four Tank Girls, reinforced by a sissy rollerboy. There is also action à la Mad Max vs. Power Rangers, a bit of 70s road movie flair in the style of Vanishing Point and the crude, grainy look of grindhouse cinema. The band's reinvention is complete. The light-shy moth has turned into a bright butterfly that fires laser beams.

My Chemical Romance - minus Frank, who is looking after his newborn twins - have been answering journalists' questions since the early hours of the morning. The most luxurious place to do this is the legendary Sunset Marquis rock star hangout in West Hollywood. Let's start where we left off the recording device ten months ago: with the comic, which has now become an album. "Yes, the comic is about exactly the same topics that are also found on the album," confirms Gerard. "The nice thing about the album is that there is no overarching story, it has no concept whatsoever." Gerard, now with red hair and a healthier complexion, is sitting on a couch again, this time without a cigarette. Ray and Mikey support him. Or not. Because if anyone has anything to say here, it's only Gerard.

No concept, then. But soon a comic and finally the corresponding album. On the record we meet the DJ called Dr. Death Defying

From black and long to blonde and short to black and the parade moved on. The new costumes are colorful, the record is not as grim as the last ones. "The new record is the most important thing. The last video we had I had this color palette of red.[makeup]"

FACE

With make-up and goth outfits, Gerard looked for a while like the illegitimate son of Robert Smith and Tim Burton, with his hair tied back. In that respect, My Chemical Romance only had themselves to blame for being perceived by some as a dark puppet show. At least you have to give them credit for being early on in this. "We did what we did, regardless of what others thought of it. When the whole thing became popular, we stopped it because we were simply done with the style. After all, our aim with The Black Parade was not to put on a cabaret show, but rather an expansive, theatrical death rock show."

HANDS

Gerard doesn't play an instrument, even though he's a guitarist. He takes care of the lyrics and conceptual ideas. Armed with a notebook, sketchpad and laptop, he works on his comics mainly on tour. "That works best. I sit in front of my computer and write scripts. I get the most done on the road because I have a lot of free time. And then there are the nights. So what do I do after a show? I write until two in the morning."

FEET

At concerts, Gerard walks a few hundred meters. No instrument ties him to one place. He is one of my absolute favorite front men," says brother Mikey. He is General Patton, that is his role. He is also so intelligent and eloquent. Having a brother in the band makes a lot of things easier. We would hang out together even if we didn't play in a band together."

HAIR

long. And now: red. The gloom has gone, the black look is sunny, the music - brighter. "The lyrics of the new songs on The Black Parade are so dark that I wrote them. The opposite." One change that the band turned to was that of teenagers. They were already fed up with black and white."

COMPLEXION

You can't tell from the photo, but the California sun is rubbing off on Way's new home. Gerard looks like he's just come back from a beach holiday. "I'm quite happy about that. There's no reason for me to stay pale," he says. Brother Mikey adds: "29 years of pale skin is enough."

T-SHIRT

"It has no political meaning. The American flag is used all the time anyway." In the interview, Way is wearing Chucks with the Stars Spangled Banner. We'll probably have to ask ourselves that question more often in the near future. The record is clearly not political, and neither is the look. We're just using it - a flag is like a tribal, you mark your territory with it. Our corporate identity, the symbol with the spider, is also such a powerful, universally applicable symbol."

PANTS & JACKET

The look changed: Gerard and the band won't be appearing on stage in simple denim outfits any time soon. "We wore marching band uniforms for three or four years," says Mikey. When we came back from the Black Parade tour, we had to redefine our lives and deconstruct ourselves. We wanted to drop everything and see what was left. Killjoys is the result of that - as if we were rebelling against The Black Parade, taking a stand against our own last album. A trailer shows the band as colorful end-time punks with laser pistols and Pontiac Trans Ams. Fans are already sending us photos, inventing color concepts for their Killjoy gangs and making their own weapons." "Sure, there have been things like that before," says Gerard, but what band offers that today? It's like a new Star Wars movie coming out. Nobody knows exactly who this Darth Maul is yet, but people are already dressing up like him. "Last time, our fans designed their own uniforms. This Killjoys thing is a bit more personal because it leaves more room for interpretation. The kids aren't dressing up like us anymore, they're creating their own characters."

pg 4. "Dr. Death. He delivers the intro, reads a traffic report and hosts the spectacle. There is a trailer for the record and now also a music video for the single Na Na Na, which is about our heroes and their new alter egos Party Poison (Gerard), Kid Cobra (Mikey), Fun Ghoul (Frank) and Jet Star (Ray). That's not a concept? "Well, yes, it is. But what it is supposed to be above all is a big pop art experiment. As it progresses, the fans and we will add more and more to the story. For the comic itself, my co-author and I already have precise ideas about what will happen. But we could also still question everything. If we shoot scenes in the desert, for example, they will dictate what the comic will look like." Aha. Let's wait and see instead of going into too much detail. Otherwise we'll get tangled up like in the confusing universe of Coheed And Cambria.

When we met last year, there were seven songs to listen to, none of which made it onto the album, or at most in a heavily modified form. What happened?

"When we met, we were mixing. Ray was at home with family things. Frank and I were trying to make the album sound the way we wanted it to. But it didn't work. Since I'm only the lyricist, I couldn't explain in musical terms what sounded wrong to me. Anyway, we had to approach it from scratch and talk to our producer Rob Cavallo about how we could do it. I had a song called Na Na Na that I had written in the desert. While we were still working on the old recordings, I said: let's record this song. We went into the studio and within one night the thing was done. That's when we realized that we had to rebuild the entire album from scratch, including the songs that we had already finished."

Last time you said that the new album would be a reaction to how you are perceived as a band. What is the situation now?

"It can't be about what anyone thinks of what you do. It's about doing it for yourself. That would be the worst thing: making music for the people who

not like you just so they like you. Should I be a bit tougher? Or more punk somehow? Will you like me then? Nah, not with me. That was also my biggest beef with the last recordings. They were good, but not outstanding. And if I had any complaints about them, it was the feeling that I had accommodated other people's views too much. We wanted to assert ourselves as a rock band. We only managed that with Killjoys."

The days of The Black Parade, the big gestures and all the pomp, definitely seem to be over. Looking back, did you lay it on too thick?

"Yes and no. It was an extremely ambitious album. I wouldn't say it was too hard-working, because we didn't try too hard. But we put a lot of work into it. We had to use a certain arrogance for the album. A lot of people thought at the time that we were a flash in the pan. We had released a hit album and were now going to go under with the emo hype. So we exaggerated everything, a defiant reaction. Even though it wasn't fun at times, we were constantly laughing because we felt kind of stupid doing it. With Killjoys we may not have laughed as much - but we had more fun."

THE WATCHMEN

The last sign of life from the band before Killjoys was the Bob Dylan cover Desolation Row on the soundtrack to the graphic novel adaptation The Watchmen. The video for the song was directed by Zach Snyder. "For free," Gerard marvels to this day. "Zach was so in love with his own film that he was still re-shooting scenes even though he had already finished it. This included the video for our song, which was obviously very important to him. He wanted to know what I thought about it. I told him that our cover version should sound like the Jim Carroll song People Who Died - like a big, loud 'Fuck you!', the film is one too." Snyder chose My Chem because he knew that Gerard is a comic book author and that his The Umbrella Academy, like The Watchmen, won an Eisner Award.

GRANT MORRISON

Morrison plays the bald villain in the Killjoys trailer. He's a comic book writer like me and my personal hero. We've been friends since The Black Parade. Greg is one of the most respected artists in the comics world, alongside Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman. He wrote his own character from the trailer and designed the costume himself.

COMICS FOR YOU

The second part of The Umbrella Academy, called Dallas, has just been published in German translation by Cross Cult Verlag and has already won Gerard and illustrator Gabriel Bá the Eisner Award. We are giving away three copies of the hardback piece of bloody pop culture. Write an email with the subject "Dallas" to verlosung@visions.de. The deadline for entries is November 19th.

11/2010 visions magazine

[hypersexualshanks]

i need shanks to put me over his lap and spank me while also being so nice abt it 😞

he totally would... he'd rub his thumb over your stinging skin and shush your whines and act like the sweetest, most innocent man in the world. "i know it hurts, darlin', but you know i can't just let you get away with bein' a brat like this." keeping his voice low and acting all innocent before smacking your ass hard again, pretending that the way you squirm and whimper doesn't turn him on even though you can feel him getting hard. he'll pretend that he hates punishing you, but there's always a subtle smirk on his face and a lustful light in his eyes when he watches your cheeks jiggle from the force of his palm. he'll coax you into taking it without complaint, always assuring you that he'll be done if you just take a few more, saying that he knows you'll be good for him once he sets you straight. he has to send a message, though, doesn't he? nobody defies an emperor and gets away with it, after all, not even his cute little lover.

[maxwell-grant]

So is Worm good from what you have read

"Yes" doesn't begin to cover it but yes. Worm is a brain-rewiring mobius strip disguised as a bible disguised as a superhero web serial that either cured your cancer or shot your dog or both depending on who you ask, and it has many extremely dedicated, brilliant scholar priest surgeons publicly dissecting it on this platform on the regular to the point I don't think I have much to add to the conversations surrounding it, even if I do have some The Thoughts about it. I had never even really seriously thought about superhero prose before and Worm isn't a thing I go back and reread frequently but it did a complete and total 180 on the way I think about superheroes and even fiction, and I've never stopped thinking about it since I've read it.

It is a monumentally impressive story with completely absolutely incredible characters that I cannot stop thinking about. No matter where it was going, even past stretches that were less interesting or more of a slog to read or worse, I could not put the story of Taylor Hebert down for one minute. Tattletale fascinated me every step of the way, I had to keep up with her. Rachel Lindt was a character I feel like I'd been waiting my whole life for. What was I gonna do, not see them through? I feel like Worm easily loses you if you don't particularly connect with the characters enough to justify to yourself the amount of time you'll spend with them, but man, I could not unglue my eyeballs from these people enough (I love all the core Undersiders, to be clear, I'd say it's Rachel > Taylor > Tattletale > Aisha and Alec and Brian, there are very small gaps between these, I just don't go berserk for the last three like I do for the first three, I'm taking Bitch and Skitter to the grave I'm dead serious)

Everybody who read it has one or several gripes with it with some major dealbreakers in the mix. Tumblr's kinda the only place online where you can really talk about them at length without the spectre of John Wildbow hanging over the discussion, which enables discussion to the point where yes, maybe it does look like to outsiders that nobody can agree on whether Worm is good or what is it even about or whether it even has worms in it (it has at least one, although it's a very big one).

And it is good, it has the Undersiders in it and the Undersiders are one of the greatest groups of characters ever put together, but everyone has at least one major point of contention with Worm whether it's the timeskip or the length or the racism or the gross fatphobia or aspects surrounding the Dallon-Pelham Torment Nexus and etc. I'd say it has maybe the most racist vision of Latin America I've ever seen in a superhero text a hair short of pro-colonial tracts in Golden Age comics and that is a tall fucking order by any metric (part of why I started WEON4 as a project was motivated by spite, to try and make my own stories about non-American superheroes even if just as practice). It is Complicated, and that winds up making it so fascinating to talk about.

Worm has self-sustaining ecological systems of posts up here, far away from the Spacebattles and Reddit battlegrounds where it has different ones and that's not getting into Weaverdice or the sequel or Wildbow's larger body of work, which I haven't gotten to and probably will not any time soon because Worm was enough of a commitment as is. Do I recommend Worm to everyone? It is certainly not to everyone's tastes and I personally find it difficult to describe it simply enough to make it sound appealing or not like a pyramid scheme. But yes I do think it's good, in fact great, in fact, amazing, except when it isn't, and except it Plainly Sucks, but then something like Taylor vs Mannequin or Kevin Norton's interlude or "You needed worthy opponents" happens and it fucks harder than anything has ever fucked before and you don't walk away from it the same, so yes I guess "good" will have to do now.

It's certainly a lot but I definitely found it worth my time to read and then read the texts written about it here. You'll have to take my endorsement of Worm as proof of it's quality and proof of how deranged it makes it's readerbase, they're not mutually exclusive. If you can make it, Worm and the wormosphere has layers and layers to wade through and talk about and enjoy, despite how we're all so very small in the end *gunshot*.

[just-wrting]

Feeling Fangs Part 2

Title: Feeling Fangs Part 2

Pairing: Charlotte Katakuri x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You and Katakuri explore your relationship more after you remember things from the past that you try not to think about.

Master List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

A/N: Wrote a part 2! This ended up longer than I expected due to things I wanted to put in it, but that’s fine. My fics have been getting longer and that’s good! My bf and I have officially reached Wano, so expect Law content in the future cause he’s also just a pretty boy. Anyway, here’s part 2 to a boy who took like three episodes to get into my top three one piece men. This is written for a female reader, but men, please send an ask if you want me to make it masculine!

You don't have the dream often, but when you do, you can never wake up on your own. It's like she's still staring down at you, waiting to destroy you for defying her. Sure it all worked out, but it still terrifies you as much as it did then.

The dream starts after you arrive. Your shoes clack against the polished floors, announcing your every step to all who are listening. Your jacket flutters behind you as you walk, giving off the impression of a cloak not a jacket. You've made sure that you picked out a new outfit to try to impress her, but you aren't sure she's a woman to be impressed by looks.

"An audience with Big Mom? You must be insane," the man escorting you jeers. "What makes you think you can get what you want?"

You don't reply, setting your jaw in determination. It's been something you've always been able to do. You get your way from almost everyone when you're this determined, not just your father. Not only that, you're banking on a few things to make you convincing.

The door swings open to a chorus of singing, the musical behind the door not stopping for you. It's just one of those techniques to intimidate you, and you won't fall for it. Not even as you swallow your heart back down and clench your fists to stop the fear. It's ridiculous. This whole plan is ridiculous all because you're stubborn about who you get to marry.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" she asks, leaning down to look at you. "To what do I owe the pleasure of having the next bride coming to my territory early?"

You sweep into a deep bow, not raising your eyes. Everything rests on your performance.

"I had a request. I fear that the groom you have paired me with is a bad match."

You can feel the heat of her anger. "Are you saying that I'm a bad matchmaker? All of my children are happy with their marriages, why wouldn't yours be the same?"

You straighten and hesitantly look at her. "I would never say that. What I fear may have happened, is you believe my role in my father's business. I may be his daughter, but I have yet to be labeled the heir."

"So you are useless?"

You gulp. "If that's how you choose to view it. I am merely being honest with you about my father. I'm begging you for your help, Big Mom. With your help, I can be named the heir. As soon as that happens, you are free to do with my father as you wish and I will turn it over to you."

She leans back and rubs her chin. "What does this have to do with the marriage?"

You keep your hands folded behind your back. "I need to marry someone who can protect me against anyone and who would never respect my father. I'm unsure how he does it, but he has been able to get very powerful people to do things he wants."

Thunder booms through the room as she growls at you. "Are you saying my children are weak?"

You bite your lip. How is she taking everything you say the wrong way?

"I have heard about some of your children more than others." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your ever growing nerves. "Perhaps it's a bit difficult to understand my perspective. You are the strongest woman on the seas. You're able to get yourself out of any fight you get in. You are unstoppable. I am nobody. I have no abilities and no fighting knowledge. Everyday I have to fear for my life. It would be better for you if I had a strong husband to rely on instead of running to you when I'm in danger."

You hold your back as straight as you can, pushing down all your fear. You have no idea if she's listening to you or if you're signing your own death warrant with every word you say.

She calms down. "So what you're saying is that you're afraid of getting hurt so you'd like one of my strongest children to marry you in exchange for handing over your father's empire?"

"In the simplest of terms, yes that is my request. You are a gracious woman for even listening to my request."

Her laughter echos through the room. "Very well. I hope you're okay with finding out which of my sons you'll marry at the wedding."

You dip into another bow. "Of course, whatever you wish I shall be okay with now that my fears have been put to rest."

She waves you off. "Begone now, I seem to have another person to speak to."

You walk out of the room as calmly as you can. Internally, you're both relieved and panicked. Now you have made your future even more twisted and unclear. The mere thought of going home or coming back here makes you sick.

As soon as you can, you duck into the shadows and start to retch. There's nothing to vomit, you skipped breakfast, but spit trails down your lips to the floor. All of your nerves are finally getting to you and you can't hold it back anymore.

There's a faint clinking sound as someone walks towards you, but you don't turn around. Not only is it a bit mortifying to be seen like this, you just don't have the energy. Who ever it is pauses a short distance away, never saying anything. You know it's to look at you. You left the door open behind you.

Normally the dream continues with you finding food, but still throwing it up as the Big Mom pirates sneer at you. This time, you jolt awake to see Katakuri looking at you with worry.

Your breathing is heavy as you fumble around, trying to get away. There's a million thoughts racing in your mind, but the most prominent one being that you have to leave. You don't even stop trying to get out of the bed as he picks you up and sets you in his lap.

"It's just me," he whispers as he pulls your head to his chest. "You're awake, and you're safe."

You do your best to focus on the sound of his breathing, trying to match it. It's a bit tricky since he's got larger lungs, but the deeper breaths help you slowly calm down. You ignore the rest of your body as you, pretending that you aren't still trembling.

You can't remember the last time you woke up like this. Maybe it was when you first got married and you were terrified of being surrounded by strangers. Maybe it was when they killed your dad and you kept getting those letters saying that people would get their revenge. Maybe it was just a few weeks ago when you woke up in a cold sweat wondering if you would ever see Katakuri again.

By the time you've calmed down, you forget why it scares you so much. It's just a dream of a time that you could've died but didn't. It's just a dream. It will only ever stay a dream.

"What happened?" His voice is soft as he kisses the top of your head. "Tell me."

You draw in a shaky breath. "It's just a dream I have sometimes. Just remembering why we got married in the first place. Did anyone ever tell you why?"

Katakuri gently rubs his thumb against your skin. It's nice to just have him hold you like this for a little bit. Even if you woke him and you feel like a bother.

"Mother just said that you were someone she needed to keep in check and I was the best fit for that. That's all I know."

"I marched in here and asked that she gave me a different son to marry. Part of it was I thought your brother was..." you search for the right word. "Not my type. Part of it was that I was scared to get killed by your family so I wanted one of her strongest sons so that way I was safer."

"Does that mean I'm your type?"

You can feel his face start to heat up as he leans against you. It's not something you ever really thought about, so you rack your brain for the answer.

"I'd say so. I didn't pick you out, your mom did, but that doesn't mean you aren't my type." Your face starts to heat up. "You are the prettiest one and I would be lying if I said that I hadn't thought of marrying you when I first heard about it."

He stops moving. "Why me?"

"Because you're my type. I keep learning new things about you that just tick more of my boxes so it worked out alright."

You tilt your head back and give him a soft kiss. For a moment he stays still, but he's quick to grab your chin and keep you there. It's only been a few weeks, but you've gotten plenty used to just how affectionate he is when you're alone.

"Like what?" His eyes look into yours, unblinking and persistent. "What do you like about me?"

"Are you really going to make me list off everything I like about you?"

Even in the dark his eyes shine, and you find yourself mesmerized. He looks so pretty and you reach up to play with his hair.

"Just a few things."

You pretend to think really hard about it. "Well, let me think. I like that you're honorable."

Pressing a kiss to his jaw, you continue to list things. "You care deeply about people."

A kiss to his cheek. "You're incredibly sweet."

A kiss to his nose. "And you have to be the prettiest man I've ever seen."

With a smile, you press your lips to his. You mean every word you said, and you hope he knows that. It's official. You've definitely fallen for him, but you'll keep that to yourself for now.

Katakuri grips your waist and pulls you closer. He's soft and warm, and it's just so comforting to be held. It hadn't taken you long to get used to this, and now you find yourself enjoying it.

Before you can react, he pulls away and presses a kiss to your temple. "It's still early in the morning, get more sleep."

Scowling, you decide to sass back. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"

He gives you another kiss. "Your husband."

"Uh-huh. And how long have you been my husband?"

"Three years, seven months, and," you hear the sound of him picking up the clock and setting it down. "Twelve days."

"I'm surprised you remember that. I forgot all about it last year." You put your head back against his chest. "Though you're never around for it."

He starts to rub your back again. "In case it was important. What made you remember?"

"Someone left me a gift to celebrate it. I don't know who, though they've left me a gift every year."

You close your eyes, content to just relax. Katakuri is always warm and soft. There's very little that's more relaxing than just laying on him and going to sleep.

"What did you do with them? Did you throw them out?" He sounds worried.

You give a halfhearted shake of your head. "Nope, they're in the top drawer of my dresser. The only thing I've considered throwing out is some stuff that an old friend sent me. Why? Did you send them?"

There's a rumble in his chest before he wraps his arm around you and rolls over. "Don't ask questions, just sleep."

"Have you been trying to woo me this whole time, Katakuri?"

He holds you tighter. "If I promise to tell you who left those tomorrow, will you go to sleep?"

You laugh. "Sure, but only if you promise."

"Alright, I promise. Now go to sleep."

It's not a hard thing to do. You're warm and comfortable right where you are, and you feel sleep tugging you back. The thing that gets you the most is the feeling of being safe. Right now, as you are, you feel absolutely safe for what must be the first time in a long time.

—-

You throw the clothes on the bed and groan. Nothing you've managed to pull out has worked or fit, and you're starting to go insane. How did it not cross his mind to tell you that you needed to go with him to some stupid meeting? Now you're stuck rifling through your closet looking for something that Big Mom won't kill you for wearing.

"Why didn't you tell me last night?" you whine as you pull out another shirt. "None of this is going to work."

Katakuri watches you from the bed, wearing the same thing he always wears. He has it easy with a wardrobe filled with replicas of his biker outfit. Sure he looks great in it, but would it kill him to wear something else and suffer with the ability to choose? Maybe something that could actually cover that massive chest of his.

"Should I pick for you?"

You wave at him dismissively. "No. I need to prove that I know what to wear to something like this. Otherwise if she wants to see me when you aren't around, I'll be in trouble."

You can feel his eyes on you, but you ignore it. It's not until you slip on another dress, that you realize he's been in the room the whole time. It never bothered you before. In fact, the first time you changed in front of him you told him that it didn't matter if he saw you change because you're married.

Now that's changed. Sure, you're still married, you've just started to be more romantic and physical with each other. After three years, you've started to actually act like a couple. It's only been about a month, and the realization has just started to set in.

Even though you've done this a hundred times, you suddenly feel exposed and embarrassed. Has he always looked at you like this and you just never noticed? Maybe you should just go change in the bathroom instead.

"This also doesn't fit, I can't get the zipper up. I think I'll do this in the bathroom instead."

The bed squeaks as he swings his legs off. "I can help."

You feel your body heat up. "That's not necessary. How much time do I have left? Maybe I can go buy something."

"You look fine in everything you wear," he adds. "I don't believe it matters what you wear."

"I just," you pause to slip the dress off. "I just want to be perfect. Everyone views you as perfect so I need to match that."

You rub the silk between your fingers before chucking it to the floor. It doesn't matter what you wear. You'll never be more to them than Katakuri's little wife. Someone who's a thorn in their side and took him away.

"You're already perfect," he mumbles. "Just wear what you like."

You don't respond. Not only can you not hear him, you aren't sure if anything he could say would make you feel better. Maybe that's for the best. Dealing with his family isn't something he can really help with. It a challenge you need to deal with on your own.

You continue to absentmindedly pull clothes out and toss them around. All you're actually doing is making a mess. It'll all have to be sorted, hung, and put away once more, and you probably won't have the energy.

Eventually you pull out something you forgot you owned. The fabric is soft and soothing to the touch. You think back to when you bought it, shortly after you got married. Clearly you were thinking about Katakuri, the color matches his eyes.

You pull it out and hold it up to your chest. "What do you think of this?"

He nods. "It suits you."

You hum in thought. That's not much a reaction. To be fair, he hasn't given you much of a reaction this whole time. Part of you wants him to give you more than that, you wish you could see if he was flustered. Unfortunately, he's all ready, complete with his scarf tucked under his nose.

"That's it?" You raise an eyebrow. "I think I was thinking about you when I bought it since I'm pretty sure your eyes are this color."

You make your way over to the bed and hold it up to his head. Leaning in close, you stare into his eyes, looking back and forth between him and the clothes. The color is practically a perfect match. You don't know how you managed to pull that off, but you feel proud of that.

"It's the same color." You brush his hair away from his eyes. "Such a pretty color."

Katakuri reaches up and grabs your hip. It hurts a bit, but you don't mind. You know he can't tell how much force he can apply to your skin so it's never intentional. Normally you just remind him that you're not a sixteen foot tall piece of muscle and he needs to be more gentle. This time, you don't have the chance.

He takes the hanger from you and tosses it on the nightstand. You frown before he pulls you into his lap. Having no idea what game he's play, you push his chest and huff.

"What are you trying to do?"

You're flustered at the position, straddling his thigh in your underwear. It's impossible to tell how he feels right now due to his face being in shadow, but you hope he's more confident than you are.

"Is there something wrong?"

You grip the soft leather covering his chest and cover your mouth. Squirming to get out of his grasp isn't helping. In fact, it's making things worse. The way he's holding you makes it impossible to escape.

Closing your eyes, you try to get control of your thoughts. Every time you move, you end up grinding against him. You feel dirty for wanting to keep going. A large part of you wants him, even if it's in this way.

"N-no. I'm fine."

You stifle a moan as he pulls you closer. It's like he's encouraging you to give in, but you can't bring yourself to do that just yet. Not when you don't know if you can, and especially when you don't know if you'd be able to stop.

There's the sound of him using his devil fruit, and soon he's lifting your chin up. You open your eyes just enough to look into his. He's not looking into your eyes, tracing your body with his gaze instead. When he finally does meet your gaze, his pupils are wide and his eyes are dark. You've never seen him like that, but for some reason it gives you the answer you need.

Even though you're covering your mouth, you bite your lip to keep yourself from making noise. You can't bring yourself to break eye contact as you start grinding against him. His brow furrows slightly before he closes his eyes. You feel his chest rise and fall in deep breaths under your hand as he seems to struggle with something.

Katakuri keeps you steady, his fingers digging into your skin. Your eyes flutter shut, and you drop your head into his chest. At this point, the movement of your hips is like second nature. The dragging of your cunt against his thigh brings you  pleasure you haven't felt in months.

Focusing on your own pleasure, you start to move faster. You slide your knees to the side just a bit more to get even closer. Whining at extra friction, you feel your whole body flush. Each rock of your hips sends jolts of pleasure to your core.

You spread your fingers, panting to get more air. It's starting to make your thighs and hips ache, but you can't stop. You don't want to stop. You're chasing the high of an orgasm.

After a few minutes of rolling your hips down into him, you start to lose your pace. The tension in your core is building to its peak and you can't focus on anything but reaching it. You're desperate and clinging to him like it'll help.

As if sensing your desperation, Katakuri guides your hips back and forth. You struggle to muffle the sounds you make as you feel the tension snap. Your legs shake as your orgasm courses through you, and you grip his jacket as tight as you can.

Your hips don't stop moving until you're over sensitive and whining. It takes a moment for you to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you go limp. You barely register Katakuri lifting you off his thigh and laying you on the bed. His touch is light and gives you goosebumps.

There's the soft feeling of a damp towel on your face and thighs as he wipes you down as best as he can. You give a peek to look at him, finding him still in intense concentration.

"I'll let you rest for a moment. We won't be late."

You nod and close your eyes. Not only did you have a nightmare last night, but you got your exercise in already this morning. It's surprisingly exhausting, and you feel like taking a nap. You could probably get away with it too, since Katakuri dotes on you.

You curl into a ball on his side of the bed, making yourself comfortable. It's still warm from where he was, and you absentmindedly reach for the blanket. Of course, you can't reach it. Deciding that it doesn't matter, you give up.

After what feels like seconds, he's gently shaking you awake again. You stretch and groan before rolling over. Risking your life for a few more minutes is stupid, but what else are you going to do? Get up and go to the meeting?

"Get dressed. I can carry you, but you have to wear something."

You pout. "I don't even want to go. Why do I have to go?"

He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I don't know, but it isn't wise to keep Mother waiting."

—-

You look at your lap. Most of the topics are about fixing up the remains of the chateau, something you couldn't care less about. As long as you and your husband have a room big enough for him, you'll be fine.

"Now, time for the reason I called some of you here," Big Mom announces, banging a spoon on her teacup. "I hope that at least some of you can fulfill my request."

What little noises that were being made stopped almost as soon as she started speaking. You glance at Katakuri who doesn't seem fazed. Deciding to calm down, you take your tea in your hand and take a sip.

"This attack against me has made me realize that I'm not quite as young as I once was. Therefore," she gestures around the table, "as all my married children, it is your job to continue growing our family. The first to bring me a grandchild will be rewarded."

You choke on your tea, coughing into the cup. Did she really just request that you start having kids? You're well aware of how old all of her married kids are, but she can't be serious. She already has a grandchild, not that she'll ever call the kid that.

"Is something wrong with my request?”

You shake your head aggressively. "Absolutely not. I thought for just a moment there was a bug in my tea, but it appears I'm just suffering from a lack of sleep. I'm sorry for the disruption."

You don't even pay attention the rest of her talk. Who knows what she's going on about with her age, some of her kids aren't even double digits? Maybe this is just some plan to get you killed in the dumbest way possible. How are you supposed to have kids with Katakuri of all guys? He's sixteen feet tall.

That's not to say you haven't thought about having kids with him. Even if it's been in a more 'how would this work' way and less of a 'I really want kids' way. You’ve only started to be comfortable with him in the romantic sense in the past month or two so you haven’t had the chance to even discuss such a topic. Though you don’t think you’d mind trying.

You shake your head slightly, attempting to get rid of the thoughts. This sort of situation is not the time to be thinking like that. Even if he keeps looking over at you to make sure you’re okay.

Thankfully the meeting ends after a few more minutes, and you head outside. The stress of being around so many of the Big Mom pirates is giving you jitters and you want to just curl up into a ball and scream. Normally they leave you alone, even if giving you dirty looks, but this time you were forced to partake in a dumb meeting about having kids.

Just as she had asked, Katakuri stays behind for a few more minutes. You watch the door anxiously, biting your nails as you wait. It’s a bad habit, but you can’t break it due to moments like these. Moments where you aren’t sure what’s going to happen to you or your husband. Moments where your whole life could be upturned. Thankfully, he comes out looking fine, if mildly annoyed.

He picks you up and sets you on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“What did she want to talk to you about?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead he just keeps walking down the stairs, making sure to not jostle you too much. Whatever it was must’ve been somewhat bad if he’s not willing to talk about it yet. Maybe he just doesn’t want to bother you with whatever it was.

You take in the construction as you walk, surprised by just how fast the work has been. The whole chateau is almost complete, only missing finishing details and furniture. It’s pretty impressive, and you wonder how everyone managed to get it done. Katakuri and you even have your original room back already, though you aren’t sure where they managed to find all of your belongings. Not that it matters, you have other things to worry about.

Once he sets you down and locks the door, Katakuri sighs. He looks slightly aggravated, and you aren’t entirely sure why. It’s clearly related to whatever his mom wants him to do, but whatever it is can’t be that bad. Not that you have any idea of what she normally asks of him.

“There’s something I need to go do,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“It’s okay. I was really worried she had scolded and threatened you, so I’m glad you’re just leaving for a little bit.”

You press your hand to your chest in relief. There are far worse things that could’ve been said than having him go do something. At least he’s still safe and still yours.

“I’ll do my best to be quick.” He bends down to look in your eyes. “I promise.”

“I don’t care how long you take, as long as you come back safe.” You press a kiss to his lips. “Promise me you’ll come back safe and sound.”

Katakuri returns your kiss. “I promise to come back to you.”

With that, he leaves. Even though he just left, you find yourself missing him. You push down the idea of running after him and begging him to stay or take you with him. There’s no need to bother him. He’s already promised to come back and that’s more than you could ask for.

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #9

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You get a new mysterious co-worker.

Word count: 8,100

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

August 1st

Nearly pancaked by grand piano falling from the 8th floor outside of favorite cafe. No casualties (except the piano).

August 5th

Freak blizzard out of nowhere during lunch. Nearly crushed by large icicle dropping directly outside the exit of the Chrysler building. No other known casualty.

August 6th

An escaped hippopotamus from the Bronx zoo ran 11.3 miles, nearly got stampeded when exiting hotel for work. No casualties.

August 12th

Tornado appeared inside the Guggenheim museum, nearly squashed by large falling statue. Nobody nearby was seriously injured.

It's already mid-August now. You've used up more than a month of your allotted three. It means you don't have much more time to waste, but that knowledge does nothing to help you in figuring things out. 

You’ve compiled a comprehensive list of the Universe's ongoing murder attempts, determined to keep track of them all. All in all, there are 37 incidents and counting that you’re aware of… and they’re all different. 

They differ in severity. They differ in scale and they differ in frequency. Sometimes it can take weeks, sometimes days, sometimes within hours of each other. If there’s any sort of pattern to them—anything that might help you predict what will happen next or how to stop it—you can’t see it.  There’s nothing that gives you any hint or clue as to where you can start to make progress with solving this mystery.

The one thing you have been able to observe from cataloging these incidents is that Miguel was right about what he told you that day at Starbucks: the universe is ramping up. Each attempt is becoming more and more bizarre, defying the very laws of physics and nature in its attempts to snuff you out. Before this, in all of your years in New York, you’ve never heard of a blizzard in July or a tornado indoors. 

With the escalating dangers, Miguel is more on guard than ever. Sticking close to you at all times like a particularly insistent herding dog that’s always a few inches from nipping at your heels. Even when he’s seemingly preoccupied by something else—reading a book, folding clothes, eating a crate of kit kats in one sitting—you can always tell that he’s keenly aware of and attuned to your every minute move. 

Practically, the only time he lets you out of his sight is for bathroom visits. 

Work is still a point of contention between you two. He hates that he can't enter the building to monitor you at work and make sure you're safe, and after that incident when you caught a co-worker trying to take a surreptitious selfie with Spiderman while Miguel was loitering around in the windows, you’d banned him from climbing and scuttering around the exterior of the building like some deranged squirrel. 

It’s made him even less pleased about your whole work situation, something he’s not shy about sharing with you. Every morning when you are about to leave for work, Miguel will stand by the door with that ever present frown and ask you: 

“Why are you still going into a job you hate when there’s only two months left?”

This morning, you sigh as you reach for your jacket and messenger bag. 

Part of you completely understands and even agrees with his logic. If the end of the world is only two months away, why go back to that shithole everyday? You could go to Disneyland. Eat fancy croissants in Paris for breakfast. Have Lyla fake a reservation at an all-inclusive yoga retreat in Bali. You could be living your life like every moment is your last. 

The thing is though, as delusional as it may be, you’re not ready to bet on the world ending just yet. 

“Miguel, I fully intend for the universe to still be around in two months. And I don’t want to be unemployed when that day comes. I’m not some trust fund baby. Once we figure this thing out, you’re gonna be free to go, and if you take Lyla with you, then what am I supposed to do? Live on the streets? Rent in the city is ridiculous, and my rent-controlled apartment got blown into a million pieces.”

For once Miguel doesn’t seem to have anything smart to say back. He tilts his head, quietly studying your face. Then after a long pause, he gives you a curt nod, as if something clicked into place. 

"Fine."

You stop mid-way through zipping up one of your boots to eye him suspiciously. 

Okay, that’s… different.

In all the mornings you’ve repeated this argument, this is the first time he’s simply accepted your explanation without sassing you back. He just gazes right back, apparently unperturbed, and holds the door of your hotel room open for you, ready to walk you to work. 

There is definitely something going on inside his head, because this stubborn dummy never lets anything go without a fight. You just don’t know what it is yet. 

By mid-morning, you've forgotten all about your suspicions, too busy dealing with the aftermath of your coworker's incompetence. You're not entirely sure how they managed to corrupt the Excel formula you’d painstakingly inserted to make sure all the numbers add up correctly, but two hours later, you're still trying to get the data to compute properly. 

It’s the kind of mind numbing task that lets your mind wander, and you spend most of that morning wondering what Miguel is up to. He’s probably lingering near the building, eating mini donuts by the dozens from that food truck that is always parked around the corner. 

There’s a pointed series of knocks on your cubicle wall. The noise is grating, and it makes the whole of your back seize up because you recognize that signature knock from sound alone. It’s your boss, probably here to ask if you have capacity to take on more case evaluations. 

And sure enough, as you reluctantly turn to look, you see her, toothy smile and all, looking down at you in that hammy and strained way of hers. 

“Are you busy?” she asks. “I just wanted to introduce you to the newest member of the team.” 

She gestures to the person standing beside her. Your gaze goes up over their insanely long legs, up and over the narrow and tapered waist and torso, up over the wide chest and broad, broad shoulders, and even before you get to the familiar face, you already know who you are looking at, because no one else is that tall.

Your mouth gapes open wide in shock.

This stupid motherf-

“This is Mickey O’Hara,” your boss introduces, simpering up at him. (You didn’t even know she knew how to simper.) 

Has Miguel gone insane?

What is he playing at?!

He didn’t even bother to change his name properly!

And the man looks unfairly good in office casual! He’s dressed in a white, well-fitted button down shirt and dress pants. Wearing ridiculous thick-rimmed glasses that would belong on Gregory Peck. Riotous curls are as messy and wild as ever, not having even bothered to comb it back. You don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling, the subdued get-up only makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

“Mickey is our newest hire,” your boss continues, batting her eyes at him. “He's interning with our team as a junior insurance claims adjuster and will be shadowing you for the next two months.”

After that, Miguel truly is with you everywhere you go. 

He spends most of each workday sitting on a spare chair in your small cubicle, the two of you squeezed into 6'x6', shoulder touching shoulder in that tiny, cramped space.

A superhero he may be, but Miguel is a terrible office worker. He seems completely bamboozled by the copier, and you quickly learn not to ask him to do any copying or scanning or even pick your printouts from the printer, because he always manages to mangle the process, coming back with crumpled up prints or half-shredded paper that looks like budget confetti.

Before the week is over, he’s gained a reputation with the rest of the team as the handsome-but-useless junior that can’t even make coffee for shit.

Most of the time, he doesn't even make an effort to look like he’s doing any actual work, just sits right next to you, and reads books all day long. When you scold him and ask him to at least pretend like he's doing busy work, or he'll get fired, Miguel will just shrug and quietly hum back at you, engrossed in whatever latest sci-fi book his nose is buried in. 

"If they fire me, I'll just have Lyla hack into their HR system and rehire me."

Then there’s the way his sleeves are always rolled up halfway up his arm, hugging tight around the firm muscles of his forearm. The peep show of gorgeously tanned skin that is always on display for all to see. It's obscene. 

He’s maddening and distracting. 

Still, you can’t be too mad about his presence. The office is a much more treacherous place than you’d initially thought. It’s a danger zone of death traps. 

One morning when you’re in the supply room, getting a new pad of post-its from one of the massive industrial shelves—the ones that are supposed to be bolted to the wall for safety—suddenly crumpled, taking half the wall with it and nearly flattening you. That was almost game over for you. Squashed like a bug and entombed under a pile of archived TPS reports. 

Then there’s that time with the runaway elevator when the supposedly secure and unbreakable industrial cables snaps, with you in it, falling through 40 floors. And you still shudder everytime you walk past the copy machine because of that time it tried to electrocute you. If Miguel hadn’t been there for all of these incidents, you’d be a goner. 

Another upside is that it’s also nice to have a cubicle buddy. On slow days, the two of you kill time watching YouTube origami tutorials and practicing with post-its stolen from the temporarily-relocated office supplies. 

Despite having hands the size of a giant, Miguel is surprisingly good at it. Delicately folding paper cranes, butterflies and flowers that sit in the place of pride atop of your computer screen, compared to your questionable attempts that usually wind up in a crumpled ball in the trash. 

With Miguel there, your days at the office are never boring or predictable in the way they used to be. It no longer feels like you are just going through motions. It's almost… fun. 

If there wasn’t a cosmic executioner’s ax looming over your neck, you don’t think you would mind spending every day with him like this.

You take it back. You do mind spending days with him like this. Miguel is the worst. 

You've been doing data entry all morning, and the man will not shut up about how primitive Excel is. 

“Malo! I don’t understand how your company relies on this software. There are so many data consistency issues! It completely lacks data validation and integrity checks, and it’s too prone to human error when entering crucial data, which results in–” 

You take deep calming breaths as you continue to type, trying to pretend his rant is white noise.  

The previous day's near death experience—an electrical surge from the printer, trying to finish what the copy machine started—also wiped out one of the file servers, and now you and half your department are stuck manually re-entering three years worth of data.  

Two hours in, your fingers are aching, and you're about ready to start banging your head on the keyboard out of frustration. (Or banging the keyboard on Miguel’s head if he doesn’t shut up.)

Like he can hear your thoughts, the man in question obligingly stops talking, and there’s a moment of blessed silence before your chair glides smoothly and suddenly to the left as Miguel rolls you out from in front of your computer. Your first instinct is to wonder what new danger he’s saving you from, but no… He’s just moving you out of the way to make space for him to drag his own chair in front of the screen. “Enough,” he says firmly, already typing out some unintelligibly complex code at a speed that far outstrips your own personal best of 67 words per minute, “I can’t watch you keep doing this when it’s so simple to automate.”

You sometimes forget just how smart Miguel is. 

True, he can’t seem to work the office printer, but he’s a genius scientist who single-handedly built an A.I. sophisticated enough to hack into financial institutions and topple governments. He successfully invented a machine that travels between dimensions. Every other sentence coming out of his mouth sounds like something that would confound Stephen Hawking. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s able to automate Excel spreadsheets. 

It doesn’t take him very long at all. 

Within minutes, he’s finished, hitting enter one final time, and then you can see all of the cells rectify themselves one by one. Errors disappear and new corrected information appears, data populating blank cells and aligning itself in tidy rows. 

You lean in closer to get a better look. Your elbow snags the edge of your coffee cup and the cup topples over, splashing runaway hot coffee across your hand.

Before you have a chance to react, there’s a strong pull backwards. Miguel is already grabbing you and pulling you sideways into his lap and out of the firing range.

The cup clatters off the edge of the desk and onto the floor. The rest of the burning liquid never had the time to land on you. 

Then you’re sitting on top of him, confined in the much too small seat of the office chair that can barely fit him and his broad backside, and much less the both of you. But if it’s uncomfortable, Miguel doesn’t show it. He takes your hand in his to inspect it carefully.

The patch of skin burns and stings, but you can’t tell if it’s from the coffee or his burning touch that makes you feel like there’s liquid fire simmering in your veins. 

“You okay?” he says, his voice right in your ear.

He is so close. Surrounding you. Broad arms locked around your waist and the firm muscles of his thick thighs under yours.

“Yeah,” you manage, nodding slowly. Your tongue feels heavy and dry in your mouth.

He quietly drags your hand closer to his face, then blows on the back of your burnt knuckles to soothe the sting. 

“Better?” 

Those stunning eyes are staring into yours from inches away, cut cheeks right there, nose barely brushing against yours, and – god, is he close. Too close. 

Miguel is always in close proximity to you these days. Never more than a couple yards away, but save for life or death situations, the two of you do not find yourself like this. He only ever holds you when you’re crashing through the skies or about to collide with a runaway vehicle. This is different somehow. 

Your heart feels like a trapped bird in your chest, fluttering so fast and panicky it might burst from inside out at the proximity. 

“I– um– ah…” You’re not saying any words, just making strange noises in your throat like a squawking bird. 

Your eyes flicker away from his face avoidantly and from the corner of your eye, you spot Matt from accounting spying on you from the cubicle across. 

Oh god. This probably doesn’t look great, does it?

You’re sitting on a co-worker’s lap in the middle of an open plan office. Compromising does not even begin to describe the position you two are in.

Jumping off his lap, you quickly stand up and turn away, trying to ignore the flustered heat in your cheeks. 

You walk back over to your chair, about to sit yourself back down, but there’s spilled coffee everywhere. The dark brown liquid quickly sinking into the already stained fabric of the seat.  You need to clean this up or else your chair is going to smell like expired coffee for the rest of time. Grabbing for your bag, you start digging for some tissues so you don't have to walk up to the supply closet.

You pull out item after item. Tampons. Sunglasses. A half-eaten chocolate bar. More tampons. New wallet with new ID, (expedited, all courtesy of Lyla). A handful of pennies. A random pamphlet. Still no tissues though, so you upend your bag onto your desk, wincing at the clatter. 

How on Earth have you accumulated this much stuff in the few short weeks since your apartment was destroyed?  And how on Earth do you not have any kleenex or napkins or anything in your handbag?? 

You paw through the mess, hoping for something useful, then swear as some of it spills over onto the floor. Ducking down, you crawl half under your desk, collecting wayward tampons and receipts, until your eyes pause on the pamphlet.

Not just any pamphlet. It’s yellow and bright with Whoopie Goldberg's face in the corner. It's the map you received from the fortune teller lady. One of your many misfires.

Now that you look closely at it, there are faint lines that seem to glow faintly in the dimness under your desk that weren't there when you were looking at it in plain daylight.

You pick it up and unfold it, laying it out on the floor. It looks like it’s been written on with some kind of a glow-in-the-dark marker, but it’s not dark enough for you to see clearly. You need to get somewhere darker to test your theory.

Backing out from under your desk, you get to your feet and head briskly off down the hall. You barely make it three steps before Miguel’s on your tail, his towering height blocking out the bright LED lamps above as he follows after you like the world’s biggest duckling. 

“Cielo, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you murmur curtly under your breath. The heat from before is still riding persistently on your face, and you quicken your steps, hoping it doesn’t show. 

You half run to the end of the hall until you reach the small supply closet. When you open the door to step inside, Miguel is right behind you, apparently trying to squeeze himself in after you. 

"We won't both fit in here!" you scold as you close the door after you.  His unhappy expression is the last thing you see as darkness envelops you in the pitch black.

There’s a niggling feeling of guilt that wiggles down into your skin. But you remind yourself that you can always steal cupcakes meant for clients from the conference room to make it up to him. All will be forgiven if you appease his sweet tooth. 

Ducking your head to stare down at the map clutched in your hands, you squint your eyes in the dark to study it closely. There's a small star glowing bright in the middle of the map.

It's a literal star map.

She gave you a location.

You're standing in front of an old stone building at 177A Bleecker Street, smack in the middle of Greenwich village with its picturesque ivy covered old brownstone houses. 

Then there's this monstrosity: Sanctum Sanctorum. The infamous residence of Dr. Strange.

The mansion is built in a mix of a Victorian and Gothic style as if the architect couldn't make up their mind and just decided 'why not both?' Throughout the rooftop, there are ornate carvings and intricate stonework that you suspect was meant to lend it a mysterious air, but instead the place reminds you of Disney’s Haunted Mansion ride attraction. 

You bring up your hand to the old knocker, gripping it firmly. Your lungs tighten, breath constricting in your chest as you hesitate, unable to bring yourself to pull the brass down to make contact with the wooden front door. Instead you’re holding it still in the air. 

Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. How are you going to explain this? 

‘The universe is out to get me, please send Avengers to help.’

Isn’t he just going to think you’re nuts? One of those delusional Supes-fan with munchausen syndrome?

"We can still leave," Miguel says. 

The man's been protesting every step of the way here, buzzing in your head about how much of a bad idea this is.

You frown, turning around to him. "I want to do this,” you answer. 

His continued opposition is the final push you need. You bring down the knocker against the front door and tap it repeatedly. 

There's no answer.

Part of you has to fight the urge to turn your feet and flee, saving yourself the embarrassment. But before you do, there’s a loud creak and a heavy scraping noise against the entrance as the double door swings inwards and slowly opens. 

No one greets you by the door. The entryway before you is empty, revealing a grand imperial staircase leading to the second floor, curving upward into a majestic spiral on each side of the room. 

It looks deserted. It’d be impolite to just step inside without someone to greet you and explicitly invite you in. But the doors did open to let you in. 

You look at Miguel, unsure of what to do, but the man does not have the same compunction for politeness that you do, he’s already walked in, shoes and all, straight into the main hall. 

“Can we just get this over with without you making your usual stupid grand dramatic entrance?” Miguel says into the empty room seemingly to no one in particular and you don’t know who he thinks he’s talking to. 

A ring of ember and fire sparks into existence out of nothingness in the center of the room. The ring grows wider, and you can see hints of another room inside of the circle: one decorated in a different decoration style than the current room you’re in: moroccan seats and plush cushions with oriental wooden carved furniture. 

A man steps out from within that room to stand in front of you both. The ring of light closes behind him once he’s made it through. Clad in a rich purple tunic and dark robes that is monk-like in appearance. Miguel steps in front of you, tucking you safely behind him. 

"You're not Strange," Miguel sneers, and you want to smack him. Why does he always have to be this rude?

"Oh, I'm quite strange. But I am not the Doctor. I am Wong. I’m the Sorcerer Supreme and guardian of this place." The man’s voice is calm and formal, and he holds himself with a stately manner as he speaks. 

You pop out your head from behind Miguel’s side. "We’re here to see Doctor Strange." 

At the repeated mention of Strange, the man’s formality seems to fall away, an expression of irritation bleeding into his features. 

"Let me know when you find him. Because he is not here."

"Where is he?" Miguel asks, and there’s that contempt rumbling in his voice again. 

"I do not know. Probably playing hooky again. The man comes and goes as he likes." Wong makes a muttering noise under his breath as he continues. "Treats this sacred place like a summer gig at McDonalds."

Your chest deflates. How are you supposed to get Dr. Strange to help you if he’s not even here?

"I need help,” you plead with Mr. Wong. Maybe he can help you if Dr Strange can’t, he is the Sorcerer Supreme after all, supreme is the highest level, right? This might even be an upgrade from Strange. “I know this sounds crazy, but I think the universe is out to get me." 

Wong just looks at you, expression unchanging, and okay, yeah, that was maybe not the best place to start. You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to make yourself sound less paranoid.

"I've almost died 40 times since the beginning of the summer. I just want to know why this keeps happening and how to make it stop."

You dig into your bag, pulling out the folded map. 

"We talked to a fortune teller in Chinatown, and she gave me this map. It led us here, and I'm really, really hoping you can help me."

Wong dips his head down to the map, "This is a celebrity home star map," he says, with a straight face and a neutral voice that only slightly betrays that he thinks you're batshit crazy.

“I know it sounds crazy, but-”

“Sanctum Sanctorum opened its doors for you, which means it wanted me to meet with you. I believe what you’re telling me.”

Oh thank god.

You tell him everything, rambling on as you try to explain what’s been happening and what little you know about it as best you can. The near death experiences, Miguel being a Spiderman from another dimension, the destruction of your apartment,  the unnatural phenomena and the universe’s escalating attempts on your life. 

Wong is quiet throughout, studying your face with grave concentration as you speak. 

When you’re finally done, he sighs with deep weariness that emanates from the core of his soul. He looks down on his feet, tapping them in deep consideration.

"I have an idea,” Wong says cautiously, “I could perform a Multiversal Divination on you, that might give us a clearer idea of what we’re dealing with,” 

“What does that mean?” Miguel asks, anger vibrating off his skin and boiling in his tone.  

This man needs to calm down. You clearly need to take him to anger management, because since the moment he’s stepped into this place he’s been on the edge (even more so than usual).

“What does a ‘Multiversal Divination’ entail?” he continues, “Is that some magical mumbo jumbo that’s going to hurt her? Because if so we’re not–”

“I’ll do it,” you say, interrupting his objections, and you sidestep Miguel who is scowling, mouth already parted in yet another protest, to stand in front of Wong. 

Wong looks to you and then Miguel, then back at you again, caught in the awkward stalemate, before you interrupt. 

“Please, I need answers. Whatever it is, if it might help, I want to do it.”

Wong nods, stepping closer to you. "This will feel a little bit strange," he warns with the bedside manner of a patient doctor.

His hand comes to your collarbone and he places his palm there with a gentle push. There is barely any effort put into it, but you feel the force of it as if you had been slammed with the full force of a six ton truck. Your body wants to leap out of its skin. It is the sensation of being dumped in cold water from head to toe. A shock runs through your entire nervous system.

Images flash before your eyes, flickering by too fast for you to process. They’re vivid and bright. Glimpses of a scene: your apartment, your work, your commute home. Each of them expiring in a fraction of a moment before you have a chance to latch on and make sense of any of them individually.

You see yourself in picture after picture. Except slightly different in each. Short hair. Long locks. Curly.

In some you're wearing glasses instead of the contact lenses that you usually use. In others, you’re sporting the piercing you wanted to get at 16 but never did. Sometimes you have tattoos, sometimes not; occasionally you’re covered in them. Dyed hair, in every color of the spectrum: pink, blue, purple. A myriad of versions of you, of every variation of the decisions you could have possibly taken in your life. 

There are pictures of memories you have had and not had. They rush in and flee before you're able to grab hold of one.

Captured moments of lifetimes you have never lived.

It's overwhelming. You don't understand what you're seeing. There’s pandemonium inside your head.

Then everything slows to a crawl.

The scene unfolding before you is one that you immediately recognize. An image that you'll never forget.

Window after window after window flashing you by. You know this view. Have seen it twice before. The same view of the Chrysler building as you were falling. But it's different this time. 

The sky isn’t blue, nor is it gray. It’s a pink and an abnormal purple, a color you’ve never seen on it before and it looks both beautiful and completely wrong. There’s an angry tear in the sky, cracking at the edges with static. The whole of the sky looks like it is going to cleave in two and bring the whole world with it. Is this the future? Is it the past?

There's no pain, but somehow tears run down your cheeks uncontrollably.

In the distance you hear Miguel's voice, muted even though you know from that tone that he's furious and must be bellowing loud enough that it echoes through the walls. It sounds like you are underwater, and you have to strain to make out what he is saying.

"Why is she crying?" He's definitely shouting, voice raw and growling. Is this part of your memory or is it happening in the now? "You're hurting her."

The ground approaches. 

"Stop! Stop!" Miguel's voice is shouting, but there's no way to stop this. Everything is going too fast this time around.

Miguel is here, tearing through the sky towards you. But you know it's too late. He's too far away. He can't save you this time.

Then everything does stop. 

No images in your head. No noise in your ears.

Everything goes black, like the ending of a movie.

Then you hear a thud.

It's loud and close and real.

You snap yourself out of your fugue state, to see Miguel towering over Wong's body where the Sorcerer Supreme lies, limp and lifeless on the ground.

“What did you do!? Are you out of your mind?" you shout, running up to them.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Wong isn’t moving, not even blinking!

"He was hurting you!" Miguel roars. 

"He wasn't hurting me, you big doofus!" you shout back, and it’s only then that the fury in Miguel’s eyes seem to abate. 

"What's wrong with him?” you ask, bending down Wong’s limp body on the ground. “Is he dead!? Did you kill him?” There's a rising panic pushing inside your throat.

"He's just paralyzed."

"He’s para– What do you mean paralyzed? What did you do to him?"

"I just... I bit him," he uses a finger to part his lips slightly, pushing the upper one up just enough to reveal the sharp edges of his fangs. "There's toxins in them that can have a paralyzing effect."

You glance back at Wong. He’s still worryingly still. 

“Is there some kind of way to un-paralyze him!?"

"It was just a small bite," Miguel says, ducking his head down sheepishly to stare at the floor, like a scolded boy. "I didn’t use that much venom... It’ll wear off. He shouldn't be out long. Maybe half an hour or so."

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” you tell Wong fervently, hovering over him. You can see his eyes tracking yours and the rise and fall of his chest, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the proof that he’s still alive. “Do you, um… Do you want me to help you up?”

“He’s not gonna want to move for a few more minutes,” Miguel interjects from behind you. “Moving will be incredibly painful until the venom wears off the rest of the way”. 

What the actual fuck!?

You throw a glare at Miguel, as you loop an arm under Wong’s waist, “Well help me move him so he can be more comfortable.” 

At your command, Miguel helps you prop the man up against the wall in what is (hopefully) a more comfortable position, and then you sit next to each other and wait.

"I can't believe you bit the Sorcerer Supreme," you mutter under your breath. “Miguel, you can’t just–” you cut yourself off, too frustrated to find the proper words. 

"I'm sorry,” he says, grimacing at your scolding, looking regretful for once as he ducks down his gaze. “You looked like you were in pain".

Your anger subsides, if only slightly at his repentance. 

“It still doesn’t make it okay. You can’t just attack someone like that! He was trying to help us.”

He doesn’t say anything more to that, just stares down at his feet in contrition. 

The two of you sit in the silence. 

Your mind goes back to the surreal experience you just had. The myriad of thousands if not millions of images that were flashing through your mind at the speed of light.

The warped shape of your world, the jarring images of it distorted and wrong, as it started to collapse. 

Miguel had said that didn’t he? That the universe was going to ramp up its game and if it didn’t succeed, it would eventually self-destruct in its mission to get you.

It takes 26 minutes. The first sign that the toxins are wearing off is that Wong is able to wiggle his toes. His recovery accelerates after that, he's able to move his fingers, then the muscles in his face until he's able to form a grimace. He doesn't look happy, and you don't blame him.

After another five minutes or so, he's able to speak again. 

"Strange way of expressing gratitude, literally biting the hand that helps you."

You get up on your feet to help Wong, and Miguel moves next to you. 

“No, you stay there! Don’t move,” you order, and even though he scowls, Miguel complies. 

You hunch over next to Wong, and help him sit fully upright. He stays seated, but dusts his robe off from the caked soot and fine layers of dirt. 

“This has happened in other dimensions,” Wong tells you. “And if we don’t stop it, our universe will be destroyed.”

“How do we stop it?” you ask. 

“The universe wants you dead. It won’t stop until it achieves its goal.”

Your stomach drops. 

“So in order for this to stop… I need to die?”

There’s a look of barely contained fury burning in Miguel’s red eyes that seems to vibrate out of his skin and pounce. But he doesn't, this time he remains in place, visibly restraining himself, still following your orders. 

“There is that option, or you will need to find the reason for why it wants to kill you. And you need to find it soon, because you don’t have a lot of time left. You will have even less time once the people of this world realize the threat you present to the continued integrity of this universe.” 

“Are you threatening her!?” Miguel demands, and somehow even though you didn’t hear him move, he’s right behind you, red eyes glowing, shoulders rising, looming over Wong, ready to cut him down at any further hints that the man might be a threat to your safety. 

Wong doesn't seem deterred in the slightest. 

You have to give it to the Sorcerer Supreme. He's a brave one. It took you weeks before you stopped being intimidated by the man, and Miguel’s never bitten you. 

“I am only telling you what the universe tells me. And it tells me that you do not belong here at all. The universe thinks neither of you belong here.”

You think back on fortune teller's drawing of the poorly drawn circle and stickfigure of you that’s speared with arrows.

"What if we went… somewhere else?" Miguel asks.

For the first time since he entered this house, his tone is no longer dripping with anger. “What if we left this universe and dimension?”

The image of white blankness enters your mind at his words. You shudder at the reminder. The cold numbness of the void and the sensation of nothingness. Dread fills your veins. A cold clammy sweat flashes hot and cold against your skin at the memory.

Wong tilts his head up in deep consideration. “That might work. This universe would slowly return to equilibrium with her gone. But… This will just start again in any new Universe. Most likely she wouldn’t be able to stay. She might have to leave every dimension she's in for the rest of her natural lifespan. A life spent always on the run.” 

Wong pauses as he glances over to you with sympathy and concern in his gaze. “Is that something you would want?” 

What is the alternative here? To lie down and die?

“Yes.”

“One month’s time, you need to find a way to leave this dimension before then.”

Back at your hotel that evening, you wake up to the sound of distress. Muffled whimpers and quiet moans. 

By habit, your eyes roam the room, seeking out Miguel in the dark. He’s lying on the sofa from across the room and even in this distance you can make out that his body is writhing beneath the covers. But you’re groggy and too sleep-drunk to make sense of what you’re hearing or seeing. 

There’s murmured noises from him, and it takes you far too long to understand what’s going on. 

He’s having a nightmare. 

Tugging off the blanket on top of you, you get up and scoot over to the end of the bed over to him. Miguel looks like he’s in pain. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he tosses and turns, face pinched in pain and distress. Now that you’re closer, you can make out words in the sounds he’s making. 

“Quiero quedarme contigo. No te vayas, no te vayas,” he keeps murmuring. 

He looks exhausted. Which, of course he is. He's been on constant alert trying to protect you. Fighting off supernatural weather phenomena, blocking hazardous furniture and fighting off charging hippos out of nowhere. Of course he's worn out.

“Shhhh, It’s alright.” you whisper to him, reaching out to gently stroke his arm, attempting to soothe him. “It’s okay.”

He groans unhappily in his sleep, burying his head into the cushion.

“Quiero quedarme conti–”

"Hey, hey, Miguel,” you tap insistently at his shoulder now. If you can’t soothe the nightmare away, then maybe you can at least wake him up out of it, “It's okay. Wake up."

This time his eyes slam open, wide with adrenaline and shock, and he shoots upright, head whipping from side to side as he scans the room. Every inch of him prepared to leap into a fight.  

“What’s wrong? What’s–”

“You were having a nightmare,” you explain to him. 

He stiffens at that, dropping his eyes to stare down at his lap unhappily. 

“Shit, did I wake you?” he runs a hand over his face, then lays back down, “Sorry.” 

Silence blankets the two of you, and you don’t know what else to say to him. Except just that you want him to be able to rest–truly rest–after the day, week and month you’ve both had. You don’t want him to have to go back to snatching moments of troubled, uncomfortable sleep on that stupid, too-small couch.

“You could come sleep on the bed with me,” you offer, “That couch is nowhere near big enough for you.”

"It's fine," he mutters, "It's been fine the last month, and it's fine now."

"It's not though. You're clearly not sleeping well.  I should have asked you before.  I'm surprised your back isn't already killing you—that sleeping position looked painful."

His head darts down, eyeing his own spread legs that are sticking out into the empty air from the bottom of the couch. But he doesn't concede the point.

"Please?" you try again, "It will make me feel better."

Apparently all you needed to do was ask, because Miguel immediately complies like your request was a decree. He gets up, pulling the quilt with him, his mop of curls in adorable disarray as he drags his feet over to the other side of the bed and flops down with a loud thump that makes the whole mattress bounce underneath you.

You can feel the pull of the sheets where his legs threaten to brush up against your bent knees, and you're beginning to realize you didn't think this through. Even in the big bed, there's only so much space, and he seems to be taking up most of it.  

He's close, and you can't seem to peel your eyes away from the strong line of his throat. Can't help the way your body reacts. Your pulse starts to race, heart kicking up hard and fast against your ribs.

Miguel turns around to observe you with narrowed eyes. “You okay?” 

Shit! Did he hear you? That timing was too on the nose. You nod at him a little bit too frantically and you sound high-pitched and skittish even to your own ears. 

 “Yes of course, why wouldn’t I be?”  

“Your heart is beating really fast.”

Fuck. He could hear you. Of course he can, he has super hearing powers doesn’t he? 

“I’m just tired,” you stammer out, wrapping the blanket close to your chest for layers as a shield from his super hearing. 

Miguel doesn’t push it. He turns back around, letting his head drop down the pillow. 

The distance between you has been growing smaller and smaller with each passing day together and you think you have been crossing an invisible line that you shouldn’t be crossing as of late. 

You think of the closeness of him in the office, the weight of his arms on your waist as he held you in his lap. His eyes on you. The bare skin of his broad back casually revealed to you when he was changing. The same back that you find yourself staring up at in this moment. 

“Go to sleep,” Miguel rasps from your side, and you nearly jump out of your skin in surprise. 

You close your eyes, but somehow in the dark you become even more keenly aware of his presence in the bed with you. Your heart seems to skip a little bit faster as the seconds pass, each beat a little bit harder. 

There's a quiet sigh, then a much louder exhale, as he turns back towards you in bed. 

"What's wrong?" His voice is still gruff with sleep.

"I can’t fall asleep,” you say, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. “Can you talk? It might help me sleep."

He snorts with a laugh. The sound of it makes something pleasant skitter up the length of your spine. He's got a nice laugh. It's a shame he doesn't laugh often.

"What's so funny?"

"No, nothing. Just... some things never change." Even in the dim of the unlit room, you can see the smile on his lips.

"What do you want me to talk to you about?" he asks.

You tilt your head, considering it. Miguel rarely gives you a carte blanche to ask him for information. Logically, you should use this moment to seize a tactical advantage and ask him for all the salacious details that you know he’s been keeping from you. But as you wrack your brain for questions, the only ones that come to mind are disappointingly ordinary. You just want to know more about him. Small, silly, personal details, the way he seems to know everything about you. 

"Tell me about where you're from," you request, "Your dimension. Your hometown." 

He shifts on the bed, lying flat on his back until he’s staring up at the ceiling with you as he reminisces. 

"It's called Nueva York. It's significantly more technologically advanced than this dimension. Definitely cleaner. People aren't as big of assholes as they are here. Public hygiene is way better, everything doesn’t reek of piss. Oh, and there’s not a rat epidemic in the public transportation system there." 

His head turns to his side to look at your face, and he gives you a small mischievous grin as he continues. "Food is healthier. You don't get junk food there."

The words should be complimentary, but from his tone of voice and what you know of his eating habits, you think it’s probably a win for your dirty, rat-infested dimension.

"Lots of skyscrapers and neon-lights everywhere. It's colorful."

He pauses, as if he's struggling to find anything more to say about the place. Then his head tips to the side, meeting your eyes, and his gaze is soft. 

“I'll take you there," he promises, voice quiet and warm and it makes something sweet and honeyed trickle inside your veins pleasantly. 

“How?” you wonder.

His smile drops, replaced by an unhappy frown. “Not sure yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t we just open up a portal like last time?”

He shakes his head. 

"The last time I took you through the portal, it was meant to take us back to my dimension.  But I built the parallel universe traversal device to transport me—and only me—through the multiverse."

He reaches out to you, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. The contact makes your skin tingle, but you don’t pull away. 

"I wasn't thinking last time. We can’t take the risk of winding up back in the void.” 

He’s mumbling now, nearly asleep. His eyes half-shut as he blinks slowly, struggling to keep them open as he slowly blinks.

"Someone that disappears in the void, they'll be erased from existence and out of every timeline. No one will ever remember you or know you existed. It's as if you've never existed at all."

You eye the watch on your wrist. The slight sheen of the bed light reflecting against the shiny glass.

"Can we modify the watch?"

"Firstly, not a watch", he reminds you by rote as he fluffs up his pillow with his arm. 

"And second..." he pauses, eyes drifting up to study the ceiling before he shakes his head, "I've tried. It doesn’t work. The power source isn’t powerful and your world is not technically advanced enough for me to build an upgraded self-sustaining fusion power source that would be needed. It’s how we ended up in the void.” 

Worry burrows into your chest, and your gaze drops down from his face. It always feels like you’re taking one step forward and ending up two steps back. Futile and hopeless but that’s what you get for trying to fight against the will of the universe. 

"Go to sleep," he says again, his hand coming to rest gently on top of your head, "I'll figure it out, don't worry.”

You smile, warmed by the comforting gesture and his reassurance. 

“I won't let you get hurt this time."

…‘this time.’

The promise cuts through you like glass. Sharp and jagged and clawing its way into your chest until it hurts you to breathe.

Miguel is talking to you, but you don’t think it’s you he’s thinking of when he says the words.

He attacked Wong without a second of hesitation when he thought you were hurt. He's exhausting himself half to death to protect you. But you know that he’s not really doing any of this for you. 

It’s not your comfort he was thinking of when he cradled your burnt hand and gently blew on your fingers. It’s not your love of egg tarts that makes him save the flaky pastries for you when the two of  you go out for dinner. It’s not you—has never been you—that he’s seeing whenever his eyes linger on your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention. 

You're riding on the emotional coattails of the other you. The unwavering loyalty that he had for her has transferred to you now that she's gone.

He must have really loved her. 

There’s a sharp fissure in your chest, and you try to swallow down the thistle of needles that’s found its way into your throat, only to discover that your saliva tastes sour and bitter. 

Closing your eyes, you can see an image of yourself smiling with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. Except it’s not you. 

It’s her. 

Other-you, with the wedding band and the happy life and– And somehow better hair too, the lucky bitch!

Except… she wasn't lucky, was she? She's dead.

She’s dead, and you still resent her for what she had with Miguel. It's such an ugly feeling. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, but the image doesn’t go away. Nor does that acrid taste in your mouth. You can't help it. This irrational and childish madness is eating into the edges of your mind. You're envious of your other self. 

God that’s fucked up. 

Does someone like you even deserve to be saved at all?

~ Next Issue

Credits & Dedications: To @thirstworldproblemss for all the rubberducking we do together on this silly little story. Thank you so much for sitting with me and making this fun! I love you 234238472938492374923 x infinity and back again.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.