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amethystarachnid · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, I wanted to ask you for some angst with Tony (but with a very happy ending). Tony is very worried and paranoid about the reader's safety, so he decides to break up with her so she can be safe away from him, and he's a little "mean" to her, saying things like "I don't love you anymore, I don't want you in my life" just so she doesn't want to go after him, but he still loves her more than anything, they both become very miserable and sad without each other... the reader decides to move to another city, but before leaving she discovers that she's pregnant and decides not to tell him... after four months of a lot of suffering, the Avengers talk to Tony and convince him to get back with her because in fact she is safer with him and they love each other... so he decides to look for her and when they meet he is very happy to discover that he's going to be a father and asks her to marry him and of course she accepts ❤️

SAFETY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff and angst

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said <3

ᯓ★ TW(s): none I think (?)

ᯓ★ angst my beloved

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The city hums with life below the skyscrapers, a symphony of horns, chatter, and footsteps. High above it all, in the shimmering confines of the Stark Tower penthouse, you sit cross-legged on a sleek couch, flicking through channels on the obscenely large flat-screen. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself alone here while Tony tinkers in his workshop, but tonight feels different. He hasn’t said much, which, for Tony Stark, is like a flashing neon sign of distress.

You sense him before you see him. The faint whir of his elevator, the telltale shuffle of bare feet across the polished floor. Then, the deep sigh—tired, weighted. You glance over your shoulder as he steps into the room, disheveled but still somehow annoyingly attractive. His dark T-shirt clings to his chest, faint streaks of grease smeared across the fabric, and his hair is a chaotic mess that screams of hours spent running his fingers through it.

"Hey," you call softly, setting the remote aside. "You okay?"

Tony doesn’t answer immediately. He crosses the room with purpose, heading straight for the bar. You watch as he pours himself a drink—a double, by the look of it—before leaning against the counter, staring at the amber liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe.

"I’m fine," he finally mutters, though the tension in his jaw tells a different story.

You stand and approach him, bare feet silent on the cold floor. He doesn’t flinch when you slide a hand over his, gently nudging the glass away from his lips before he takes a sip. "Liar," you whisper, your voice laced with concern.

Tony smirks faintly, though it’s devoid of his usual arrogance. "You’ve got me figured out, don’t you?"

"Something’s wrong," you press, studying him intently. "What is it?"

He exhales sharply, the sound almost a growl. His free hand rakes through his hair again as he straightens up, pacing a short, tight circle. "It’s nothing," he insists, though the way his shoulders twitch says otherwise. "Just… work stuff."

"Work stuff," you echo, crossing your arms. "You’re not a very convincing liar tonight, Stark."

He stops mid-step, turning to face you. The flicker of something raw and unguarded flashes across his face before he schools his expression. "I’m just trying to keep my head above water," he admits, voice low. "It’s been… a lot lately."

You step closer, resting a hand on his chest, right over the arc reactor that hums faintly beneath his shirt. The light pulses gently against your palm, a comforting rhythm. "You don’t have to do it alone, you know."

His hand covers yours, warm and calloused, though his grip is light, almost hesitant. "That’s the problem," he murmurs, eyes locking onto yours. "You’re not part of the equation. You’re the damn variable. The wild card I can’t control."

"Tony…" You try to pull back, but he holds your hand firmly now, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

"I can’t lose you," he says, the words spilling out like a confession he’s been holding back for far too long. "I can’t—God, do you even understand what you mean to me?"

Your heart clenches at the raw vulnerability in his voice. You’ve seen Tony Stark in many forms: the cocky genius, the billionaire philanthropist, the reckless hero. But this—this is uncharted territory. This is the man behind the mask, stripped bare and painfully human.

"I’m not going anywhere," you promise, though the words feel fragile in the face of his fear.

"You can’t guarantee that," he snaps, pulling away abruptly. He stalks to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city below. His reflection in the glass is fractured, distorted by the faint glow of the arc reactor. "You have no idea how dangerous this life is. How dangerous I am."

You follow him, stopping a few feet away. "You think I don’t know the risks? Tony, I’ve seen you come back battered and bloody, half-dead. I know what’s out there."

"Then you should know why I’m scared," he retorts, turning to face you. His voice rises, trembling with anger—or maybe desperation. "Every time I suit up, every time I step into a fight, I’m thinking about you. About what happens if someone comes after you because of me."

"That’s not your call to make," you argue, stepping closer. "I’m not some fragile thing you need to lock away in a tower."

"Yes, you are!" he yells, and the sheer force of his words makes you freeze. His chest heaves, his fists clenched at his sides. "You are, and that terrifies me. You don’t understand—"

"Then make me understand," you interrupt, your voice firm. "Talk to me, Tony. Don’t shut me out."

He stares at you, his gaze flicking between your eyes, searching for… something. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, almost broken. "They’ll come for you. Sooner or later, someone will figure out that you’re my weakness, and they’ll use you against me. And when that happens, I won’t be able to stop it. I’ll lose you."

The raw honesty in his words slices through you like a knife. You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "You won’t lose me," you say fiercely. "I’m not some damsel in distress, Tony. I can handle myself."

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You don’t get it. This isn’t a fair fight. The people I deal with—they don’t play by the rules. They’ll hurt you just to hurt me. And I can’t—" His voice breaks, and he looks away, swallowing hard.

You step closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your forehead against his chest. The arc reactor hums steadily between you, a faint beacon in the darkness. "You’re not alone in this," you whisper. "We’ll figure it out together."

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, slowly, his arms come around you, holding you as if you might vanish if he lets go. His chin rests on the top of your head, and you feel the tension in his body begin to ease, though it doesn’t disappear entirely.

"I don’t know how to protect you," he admits, his voice muffled against your hair.

"You don’t have to," you reply softly. "Just let me be here. Let me stay."

He doesn’t answer, but the way his grip tightens around you says enough. The weight of his fear lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating, but in this moment, neither of you pulls away. It’s a fragile truce, a tentative step forward in a battle neither of you fully understands.

Tony Stark is good at a lot of things. He’s good at building impossible machines, at calculating risks, at charming a room full of strangers. But he’s terrible at this—at pushing you away. And yet, for weeks now, he’s been trying his hardest.

It starts with small things. Coming home later than usual, burying himself in his work even more than normal. He stops joining you for lazy mornings on the couch, starts making excuses when you suggest dinner or a night out. At first, you tell yourself it’s just Tony being Tony—his mind has always been in overdrive, and sometimes, he simply gets caught up in the chaos of it all.

But then, the distance grows. The way he looks at you shifts. There’s a coldness in his gaze that wasn’t there before, an edge to his words when he bothers to speak at all. He brushes off your touches, sidesteps your attempts to reach him, until finally, the man who once held you as if you were his lifeline feels like a stranger.

You try to ignore it. You tell yourself he’s just stressed, that it’ll pass, but deep down, a sinking feeling gnaws at you. Something is wrong. And tonight, you’re about to find out what.

He’s waiting for you in the living room when you come home, standing by the windows with a glass of scotch in his hand. The city lights cast sharp shadows across his face, making him look older, more worn. The sight sends a pang through your chest, but you push it down, determined to break through whatever wall he’s built between you.

"Tony," you say softly, setting your bag down on the counter. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, we do." His voice is clipped, almost flat, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns to face you, and for a moment, you swear there’s something in his eyes—something raw and painful—but it’s gone before you can be sure.

You take a step closer, your heart pounding. "What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant, and I—"

"Stop." The word cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and final. He sets the glass down on the counter with a deliberate slowness, then looks at you with an expression so cold it makes your blood run cold. "Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be."

"Harder than what needs to be?" you ask, your voice trembling. "Tony, what are you talking about?"

He exhales heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. When he finally speaks, his tone is laced with a cruel detachment that feels so foreign coming from him. "This. Us. It’s over."

The words hit you like a freight train, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You stare at him, waiting for the punchline, for the smirk that says he’s just being an asshole because that’s what Tony Stark does when he’s uncomfortable. But it doesn’t come.

"You’re joking," you say weakly.

"I’m not."

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the air thick and suffocating. "Tony, what the hell are you talking about? You can’t just—"

"I can, and I am," he interrupts, his voice hard. He steps closer, towering over you, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders. "I don’t love you anymore, Y/N. I don’t want you in my life."

The words are like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last. You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes as you try to process what he’s saying. "You don’t mean that," you whisper. "You can’t mean that."

"I do." His tone is icy, emotionless. "I’ve been trying to make it work, but I can’t do this anymore. I need you to leave."

Leave. The word echoes in your mind, hollow and final. Your legs feel like jelly beneath you, and you reach out to steady yourself against the counter. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, your voice breaking. "What changed?"

"Nothing changed," he snaps. "That’s the problem. This… whatever this is, it’s not working. It’s not what I want."

The tears spill over now, and you don’t bother wiping them away. "You’re lying," you say, your voice trembling. "I know you, Tony. I know when you’re lying."

He flinches, just barely, but it’s enough to make your chest ache. He looks away, his jaw clenching as he steps back. "You don’t know anything," he mutters. "You don’t know what’s best for you, for either of us."

"You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!" you shout, the anger bubbling up now, cutting through the haze of pain. "If you’re scared, if you’re pushing me away because of your own issues, then—"

"I’m not scared," he growls, his eyes snapping back to yours. "I’m done. That’s it. I’m done, Y/N."

The finality in his tone sends a fresh wave of pain crashing over you, and you stumble back, clutching your chest as if you can physically hold yourself together. "You don’t mean that," you whisper again, your voice breaking. "You love me. I know you do."

"Not anymore," he says, the words landing like a death knell.

For a moment, the silence is deafening. You stare at him, searching for any sign of the man you love, the man who once looked at you like you hung the moon. But all you see is a mask—a cold, unfeeling facade that makes you want to scream.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice shaking but resolute. "You want me to leave? I’ll leave."

You grab your bag and head for the door, your vision blurred by tears. He doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t say a word.

You don’t look back.

Two days later, you send someone else to collect your things.

The apartment feels strange without you. It’s quiet, too quiet, and the absence of your laughter, your scent, your presence is like a black hole, sucking the life out of the space. Tony tries to ignore it. He buries himself in his work, drowns himself in scotch, anything to keep from thinking about you.

But when your friend arrives to pick up your things, it hits him like a punch to the gut. The sight of your clothes, your books, your little trinkets being packed into boxes is unbearable, and he has to leave the room, retreating to the workshop like a coward.

He doesn’t deserve to feel this way, he tells himself. He’s the one who ended it. He’s the one who pushed you away. But the truth is, he’s been lying to himself just as much as he lied to you.

He loves you. He’ll always love you.

But you’re safer without him.

The days without Tony bleed into weeks, and the pain doesn’t lessen; it only festers. The apartment you moved back to—the one you never sold—is suffocatingly quiet, devoid of life. It’s far too small compared to the penthouse at Stark Tower, where everything was expansive, open, and filled with his presence. Here, it’s just you and the echoes of what you had.

You’ve tried to move on. Really, you have. But it’s impossible. Every little thing reminds you of him. The way the morning sun filters through your blinds reminds you of how he used to grumble about the light waking him up. The sound of a passing car with a bad muffler on the street outside makes you think of his ridiculous cars, the way he used to rev the engine just to tease you. Even your favorite takeout spot feels like a betrayal; you can still hear his voice arguing with you over who got the last bite.

But you’re stubborn. You refuse to let yourself break, not completely. You threw yourself into work, taking every shift and every project you could get your hands on, hoping exhaustion would drown out the heartbreak. It doesn’t work. Nothing does.

And then there’s him.

Tony is just as miserable, though he hides it better—or at least he tries to. The penthouse is eerily empty without you. The space that once felt like home now feels like a mausoleum. He doesn’t sleep in the bed anymore; it’s too cold, too hollow without you beside him. Instead, he crashes in the workshop or on the couch, surrounded by empty scotch glasses and the flickering blue glow of the arc reactor.

He hasn’t told anyone the truth. Not Rhodey, not Pepper, not anyone. They ask, of course. They know something’s wrong. He deflects with sarcasm, brushes off their concern, but deep down, he’s barely holding on. He threw away the best thing that ever happened to him, and he knows it. But he can’t take it back. He won’t risk your life, no matter how much it destroys him.

The nights are the worst. That’s when the memories come, unbidden and relentless. He sees your smile, hears your laugh, feels the phantom weight of your hand in his. It’s torture, but he doesn’t stop it. It’s the only way he can feel close to you now.

Weeks turn into months, and the pain doesn’t fade—it deepens, sharpens, becomes a constant ache in both of your chests. You wonder if it will ever go away.

Then, one morning, everything changes.

You’ve been feeling off for days. At first, you chalk it up to stress and exhaustion. You’ve been working too much, not eating properly, and the emotional strain of the breakup has taken a toll on your body. But when the nausea hits hard enough to send you running to the bathroom for the third time that week, you know something’s wrong.

You take the test, your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold it. The seconds feel like hours as you wait, pacing the tiny bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

Two lines.

The world tilts beneath you.

You sink to the floor, the test clutched in your trembling hands. You’re pregnant. With Tony’s child.

The realization crashes over you in waves. A mix of fear, shock, and something else—something softer, more fragile—swirls in your chest. You press a hand to your stomach, the weight of it sinking in. There’s a life inside you. A piece of him.

Your first instinct is to call him, to tell him, to share this life-changing news with the man you once loved. But the thought dies as quickly as it comes. Tony doesn’t want you in his life. He made that painfully clear. And you can’t stomach the idea of facing him again, of reopening that wound.

You make your decision then and there. You won’t tell him.

It’s not an easy choice. In fact, it feels impossible. But you tell yourself it’s for the best. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t love you. You can’t drag him back into your life just because of this. You’ll do it on your own. You have to.

The next few weeks are a blur of emotions. You throw yourself into preparing for the baby, researching everything you can, but the reality of it all is overwhelming. You’re going to be a single mom. You’re going to have to juggle work, bills, and raising a child. The weight of it all feels crushing, but you refuse to give up.

You tell yourself you’re strong. That you can do this. That you don’t need him.

But late at night, when the world is quiet and the ache in your chest is too much to bear, you lie in bed and cry. You cry for the life you thought you’d have, for the love you lost, and for the child who will grow up without their father.

Tony doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop thinking about you. He’s tried to bury himself in work, in distractions, but nothing works. You haunt him. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees your face. Every time he takes a breath, it feels like his chest is being crushed.

He’s barely functioning, and everyone around him knows it. Rhodey corners him one day, demanding answers, but Tony brushes him off with a half-hearted excuse about being busy. Pepper isn’t fooled either. She keeps pushing, trying to get him to talk, but he shuts her out.

Because what can he say? That he’s dying inside? That he regrets every word he said to you but doesn’t have the guts to fix it? That he’s terrified of what would happen if he did?

So he suffers in silence, throwing himself deeper into his work, even as the emptiness inside him grows.

But no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, one thought keeps clawing its way to the surface: he misses you. Desperately.

You decide to leave the city. Staying here is too painful, too suffocating. Everywhere you go, there’s a reminder of him—of the life you had together. You can’t keep living like this. You need a fresh start, for yourself and for the baby.

It’s not an easy decision. Moving means uprooting your entire life, starting over from scratch. But you know it’s the right thing to do.

You find a small apartment in another city, far enough away that the ghosts of your past can’t follow you. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s yours. You spend your days packing up your things, making plans, and trying not to think about how much you’ll miss the city you once called home.

But no matter how hard you try, there’s one thing you can’t stop thinking about: Tony.

You wonder if he’s moved on. If he’s happy. If he even thinks about you anymore.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s better this way. But deep down, you know it’s a lie.

Because no matter how much time passes, no matter how far you go, a part of you will always love him.

Four months pass, and you’ve built a new routine in your new city. It’s not easy, but you’ve always been resilient. Your days are full, juggling long hours at work, studying courses online to make a better future for your child, and preparing for the baby’s arrival. Your belly is round now, unmistakably carrying a life within it. You catch people staring sometimes—coworkers, strangers on the street—but you don’t care. Every time you feel the baby kick, it reminds you why you’re doing all of this.

You haven’t told anyone much about the father. Your coworkers and neighbors assume you’re single, and you’ve never bothered to correct them. It’s easier this way. The pain of thinking about Tony, of what could have been, is still too fresh.

The apartment is small but cozy, and you’ve started turning one corner of the bedroom into a nursery. There’s a secondhand crib you found online, freshly painted in soft cream. Baby clothes are folded neatly in a small set of drawers, and a mobile hangs from the ceiling, its delicate stars swaying gently whenever you walk past.

But it’s hard. So hard.

There are nights when exhaustion grips you so tightly you can barely breathe. Nights when you wonder how you’ll manage everything on your own. And nights when your heart aches for Tony so fiercely you have to press a hand to your chest to calm the storm within you.

Still, you don’t let yourself dwell. You keep going, for your baby.

Meanwhile, Tony is unraveling.

The cracks have become impossible to hide, even from himself. He’s snapping at everyone—at Pepper, at Rhodey, at anyone who tries to get close. He spends most nights in the workshop, working on projects he doesn’t care about, just to keep his hands busy. But no matter how much he distracts himself, the void inside him only grows.

The team notices, of course. They’ve been noticing for months. And finally, they confront him.

It starts with Pepper.

“Tony, this has gone on long enough,” she says one evening, her arms crossed as she stands in the doorway of the workshop.

“I’m fine, Pep,” he mutters without looking up from the piece of tech he’s tinkering with.

“No, you’re not. And we both know why.”

He freezes, his hands stilling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, tough,” she snaps. “Because this isn’t just about you anymore. You think we don’t see what’s happening? You’re falling apart, Tony. And the only person who can fix this is you.”

He doesn’t respond, but the words hit him harder than he wants to admit.

The next day, Rhodey corners him during a training session.

“Stark, we need to talk.”

“Unless it’s about the mission, I’m not interested,” Tony replies, dodging Rhodey’s gaze.

“Bullshit,” Rhodey says bluntly. “You’re miserable. And we both know why. So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep running from her forever?”

Tony clenches his jaw, his hands tightening into fists. “She’s safer without me,” he mutters.

“Safer? Or are you just too scared to fix what you broke?”

The words sting, but Tony doesn’t argue. He can’t.

The final push comes from Steve, of all people.

“You know she loves you,” Steve says one evening as they sit in the common room, the quiet weight of his voice cutting through Tony’s defenses.

“She’s better off without me,” Tony mutters, but his voice lacks conviction.

“She’s not better off if she’s as miserable as you are,” Steve replies. “You think you’re protecting her by staying away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting her—and yourself.”

The words linger long after Steve leaves, echoing in Tony’s mind until he can’t ignore them anymore.

By the end of the week, he’s made up his mind. He’s going to find you.

It takes him some time to track you down. You were smart, cutting ties and keeping your location a secret. But Tony Stark is nothing if not resourceful. When he finally gets a lead, he wastes no time.

He flies to your city on a private jet, his heart pounding the entire way. He’s rehearsed a hundred different things to say, but none of them feel right. All he knows is that he needs to see you, to fix what he broke, even if you slam the door in his face.

When he finds your address, he barely recognizes the street. It’s a far cry from the luxury of Stark Tower, and the thought of you living here makes his chest tighten. He doesn’t knock right away. Instead, he stands there for a moment, gathering his courage.

Finally, he raises a hand and knocks.

When you open the door, the world seems to tilt beneath him.

He’s prepared for a lot of things—anger, hurt, indifference—but he’s not prepared for this.

You’re standing there in a simple dress, your belly round and unmistakable. His heart stops, and for a moment, he can’t breathe.

“Tony,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stares at you, his mind racing. Your belly… it can’t be.

But then, his mind jumps to the worst conclusion. You’ve moved on. Of course, you have. It’s been months. You’ve found someone else, someone who could give you what he couldn’t.

His stomach twists painfully.

“I… I didn’t know,” he says finally, his voice hollow.

You blink, confused. “Didn’t know what?”

“That you were… that you… had someone else,” he says, his gaze dropping to your belly.

Realization dawns on you, and your heart sinks. He thinks the baby isn’t his.

“I don’t—” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

Tony runs a hand through his hair, his emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. “Look, I didn’t come here to make things harder for you,” he says, his voice strained. “I just… I needed to see you. To tell you I was an idiot. That I was wrong. But it’s clear you’ve moved on, so I’ll go.”

He turns to leave, but your voice stops him.

“Tony, wait.”

He freezes, his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn around.

“The baby…” You swallow hard, your voice trembling. “The baby is yours.”

He turns slowly, his eyes wide, his face pale. “What?”

You press a hand to your belly, tears welling in your eyes. “I found out a few weeks after… after you ended things. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to see you again. But this baby is yours, Tony.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, he takes a step closer, his gaze flicking between your face and your belly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“Because you made it clear you didn’t want me,” you whisper, the tears spilling over now. “You told me you didn’t love me anymore. I didn’t want to go through that again.”

His face crumples, and he sinks to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling. “I lied,” he says, his voice raw. “I lied to protect you. Because I love you so much it scares the hell out of me. And I was stupid enough to think you’d be safer without me.”

You stare at him, your heart breaking all over again.

“I was wrong,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I was so wrong, Y/N. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. Please.”

You don’t know what to say. The pain, the anger, the love—it’s all too much.

But when he reaches out, his hand trembling as he rests it gently on your belly, you feel something shift.

The walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack, just a little.

Tony's hand trembles as it rests gently on your belly, his touch hesitant, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. You should—you’ve been carrying months of pain and anger, all because of him. But standing here now, with his eyes full of something raw and broken, you can’t bring yourself to move.

“Say something,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Please, Y/N.”

You press your lips together, trying to gather your thoughts. There’s so much you want to say—so much hurt, confusion, and love tangled up in your chest that you don’t know where to begin.

“You broke me, Tony,” you say finally, your voice trembling. “You told me you didn’t love me. That you didn’t want me in your life. And I believed you. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been? How much it hurt to hear those words from the person I thought would never hurt me?”

His face crumples, and he looks away, guilt written in every line of his body. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmurs. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I—God, I was so scared. Scared that being with me would put you in danger. That one day, I’d lose you because of what I do—because of who I am. I thought pushing you away would keep you safe.”

“You didn’t protect me,” you say, your voice growing stronger. “You destroyed me. And you didn’t even give me the chance to decide for myself if I wanted to stay or not. You took that choice away from me.”

He winces, his head hanging low. “I know. I know I screwed up, Y/N. And I hate myself for it. Every single day without you has been hell. I thought I was keeping you safe, but all I did was push away the only person I’ve ever loved.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. He looks so different from the man who broke your heart months ago. His eyes are tired, his shoulders slumped, as if he’s been carrying the world on his back.

“I never stopped loving you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not for a second. And if I could take it all back, I would. But I can’t. All I can do now is tell you the truth and hope it’s not too late.”

You close your eyes, the weight of everything crashing down on you. You’ve missed him so much, even when you didn’t want to admit it. And deep down, you know you never stopped loving him either.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you say finally, your voice breaking.

He nods, his jaw tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Whatever you need, Y/N. Just… don’t shut me out. Not now. Not when we have a chance to fix this.”

You look down at his hand on your belly, at the way his fingers tremble slightly against your skin. There’s so much at stake now—not just for you, but for the baby too. And despite everything, a part of you wants to believe him.

“You hurt me, Tony,” you say quietly, your voice laced with both anger and vulnerability. “But I can’t keep doing this alone. I can’t raise this baby by myself. And I don’t want to.”

His eyes snap up to meet yours, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. “You don’t have to,” he says quickly. “I’ll be there for you—every step of the way. I promise.”

You take a shaky breath, your emotions swirling inside you. “If I come back, it’s not going to be easy. We can’t just go back to the way things were.”

“I know,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Whatever you need, Y/N, I’ll do it. Just… come home. Let me take care of you. Let me take care of both of you.”

The word “home” catches in your chest, and for the first time in months, the idea doesn’t feel so far away.

When you finally agree to go back with him, Tony looks like he might cry. He helps you pack up the few belongings you’ve gathered in your time away, his movements careful, as if he’s afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. You can see how hard he’s trying, and while it doesn’t erase the pain of the past, it’s a start.

The drive back to Stark Tower is quiet, but not uncomfortable. He keeps glancing over at you, his expression a mix of relief and nervousness, as if he still can’t believe you’re here.

When you arrive, the elevator ride up to the penthouse feels surreal. You step into the space that used to feel like home, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the memories.

“I know it’s a lot,” Tony says, his voice soft as he watches you. “But I want you to feel comfortable here again. We can make changes—whatever you want.”

You nod, unsure of what to say.

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into making the penthouse feel more like a home for the three of you. He clears out one of the spare bedrooms and starts turning it into a nursery, asking for your input on everything.

“What color do you want for the walls?” he asks one evening, holding up paint swatches.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re seriously going to paint it yourself?”

He grins, a spark of his old charm returning. “I may be a genius billionaire, but I’m not above rolling up my sleeves for my kid.”

Despite yourself, you smile.

He keeps surprising you, showing up to doctor’s appointments, researching baby gear, and even cooking dinner when you’re too tired to move. It’s clear he’s trying, and while it doesn’t erase the hurt, it does start to rebuild something fragile and new between you.

One night, as you’re sitting on the couch together, your hand resting on your belly, you feel the baby kick.

Tony’s eyes widen. “Was that…?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Here,” you say, grabbing his hand and placing it on your belly.

His eyes soften as he feels the movement beneath his palm. “Hey, little one,” he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder. “It’s your dad. I can’t wait to meet you.”

The sight of him, so vulnerable and full of love, makes your heart ache in the best way.

For the first time in a long time, you start to believe that maybe you can build a future together.

The moment you step into the new doctor’s office, you can tell the change was worth it—though you’d never admit that to Tony. The place is immaculate, modern, and soothing, with soft music playing in the background and staff who seem genuinely happy to help. You still feel a little guilty about leaving your old doctor behind, but when you see Tony’s proud smile as he hands over your file, you know he just wants the best for you and the baby.

“This is where you’re supposed to be,” Tony says as you sit in the plush waiting room. He’s bouncing one knee nervously, glancing over at you every few seconds as if to gauge your reaction.

“Don’t let this go to your head,” you tease, rubbing your belly. “But it’s… nice.”

“Nice? Please. It’s state-of-the-art.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “The OB here is one of the best in the country. I made a few calls. Okay, a lot of calls.”

You smirk, resting a hand on his knee to calm his fidgeting. “Thank you, Tony.”

His expression softens, his hand covering yours. “Anything for you. For both of you.”

The new doctor, a calm and professional woman named Dr. Latham, immediately puts you at ease. She reviews your chart thoroughly and listens to all your concerns without rushing you, which feels like a luxury after your previous appointments. She even arranges for an in-depth ultrasound during your visit, mentioning that you’re far enough along to determine the baby’s gender if you’d like.

Tony practically lights up at the suggestion. “Oh, we’d like,” he says enthusiastically, glancing at you for confirmation.

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly just as curious as he is.

The ultrasound room is dimly lit, with a large screen positioned to give you a clear view. As the technician applies the cool gel to your belly and begins the scan, Tony grips your hand tightly.

“There’s the baby,” the technician says with a smile, pointing to the image on the screen.

You and Tony both lean forward, mesmerized by the sight of your little one moving around.

“Everything looks great,” the technician continues. “And… if you’re ready, I can tell you the gender.”

Tony’s fingers tighten around yours, and you can feel the tension in the air. “We’re ready,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

The technician smiles and turns to look at you both. “It’s a boy.”

Your breath catches, and you glance at Tony, whose face is a mixture of awe and joy.

“A boy,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re having a boy.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch the screen. “Liam,” you whisper, the name you’d been toying with finally feeling real.

Tony leans over and kisses your temple, his lips lingering for a moment. “He’s going to be perfect,” he says softly.

The news of Liam’s gender spreads quickly, thanks to Tony’s inability to keep anything a secret. Within hours, the Avengers are calling and texting, all of them eager to congratulate you and ask about baby names.

“Are you sure you don’t want a gender reveal party?” Tony asks a few days later, holding up a brochure for some extravagant event planner he’s clearly already been in touch with.

You give him a look. “Tony, I don’t need fireworks and a light show to announce we’re having a boy.”

“But think of the drone possibilities,” he says with a grin.

You shake your head, laughing. “How about we just tell people? Like normal humans?”

“Boring,” he mutters, but he lets it go, content to simply bask in the excitement of preparing for Liam’s arrival.

As the weeks pass and your belly grows, you start noticing the changes in your body more acutely. You’ve always been confident, but pregnancy has brought a whole new set of challenges. Your back aches constantly, your feet swell, and your once-favorite outfits no longer fit.

One evening, you’re standing in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, studying your reflection. Your belly is round and prominent now, and you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I look like a balloon,” you mutter under your breath, running a hand over your bump.

“What did you just say?” Tony’s voice startles you, and you turn to see him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, but he’s already walking toward you.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone serious. “You don’t look like a balloon. You look… incredible. You’re growing our son. Do you have any idea how amazing that is?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I just don’t feel like myself anymore.”

He steps closer, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you to face him. “You’re still you. You’re strong, beautiful, and the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. And if you don’t believe me…”

He trails off, reaching into his pocket.

“Tony, what are you—”

But before you can finish your sentence, he’s kneeling in front of you, holding a small velvet box.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the one thing I know I got right is loving you. You’ve given me so much—your trust, your love, and now, our son. I don’t want to waste another second without making this official.”

He opens the box to reveal a stunning engagement ring, the diamonds catching the light.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

Tears fill your eyes, and for a moment, you can’t speak. But then you nod, a smile breaking through your tears. “Yes,” you whisper.

Tony grins, sliding the ring onto your finger before standing and pulling you into a gentle hug, careful of your belly.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice full of emotion.

“I love you too,” you reply, resting your head against his chest.

As he holds you close, you can’t help but think about how far you’ve come—from heartbreak and doubt to this moment of pure joy. And as Liam kicks gently in your belly, it feels like a promise of all the good things yet to come.

I'm so sorry if the ending sucks :(

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 1 day ago

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(Dazzle Adam AU)

Adam woke up to everything hurting and everything looking giant to him. The last thing he remembered was being stabbed in the back multiple times and the last thing he saw was Lute. His eyes widened in horror at the bodies of his girls. The Exorcists that died were taken to Cannibal Town to be eaten. They were like his daughters and he cried thinking of the grisly fate that awaited their bodies. Adam ran out wanting to get away, he let out a little cry of horror when he saw his reflection in a window. He looked like one of those little goat dragon things Charlie had, one of which Lute had killed. But his fur was brown and the horns were like ones on his helmet. Though he had little red circles on his cheeks. He let out little roars as Susan picked him up.

Susan: What an ugly little thing.

Adam bit her hand hard and she dropped him. Before she could attack him, he ran from Cannibal Town. Once in an alleyway he started to tremble. Just then one of the archangels, Jophiel appeared. Adam liked her, she had always been kind to him.

Jophiel: Poor Adam, you have been cursed to be in this form until you receive a kiss of true love from your soul mate.

If Adam could talk he would have said he had no soulmate.

Jophiel: Don’t give me that look, you do have a soulmate.

She made an image of Lucifer appear. Adam felt longing in his heart.

Jophiel: If you get him to kiss you in a year, you will be an angel again. If not, you be in this form for an eternity.

She went away as more tears fell from Adam’s eyes. But then he heard someone approach, it was Charlie.

Charlie: Hello cutie, don’t cry, you can come with me.

Adam too sad and defeated, so he just let Charlie pick him up. Once at the hotel Charlie put him in a cute little maid dress as Razzle nuzzled him.

Charlie: What should we name you?

Just then Lucifer walked into the room.

Lucifer stopped when he saw the new little dragon goat friend, he didn't do this. Maybe this was an apology for taking that of a Hellborn?

Lucifer: And what do we have here?

Adam looked at Lucifer, for the first time really looking up at him and his heart melted a little. How the fuck was he ever going to manage getting him to give him a kiss? It probably even had to be on the lips too.

Maybe a forehead kiss would work? He hoped so, that's the more likely scenario that would ever happen if it did.

Charlie: I found this poor thing on my way back from Cannibal Town after I was checking in with Rosie. She was so scared.

She!?

Adam moved to look between his legs..... Yeah he was smooth there save for a small slit and butthole.

Not only is he fucking trapped like this but he's a fucking female version of it too? Why!?

He looked at Razzle who was still nuzzling him.

Adam: Don't get any funny ideas.

Charlie: I'm just trying to think of a name......

Lucifer looked at him for a little while, this new one kind of looked like Adam. Just thinking of the permanently departed angel made his chest get tight.

Lucifer: What about....... Adele? Like that singer?

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x adam #guitarduck #adam x lucifer #ask

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wyervan · 3 months ago

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wip—rehashing a moon design i did in a magma once to make it more befitting the season

#art #wip #krampus moon #dca au #fnaf #fnaf dca #cryptid moon #still working out what his horns look like #i need to add more chainz #…mmmh and maybe a collar…again….#( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)#fnaf moon #procreate

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liauditore · 9 months ago

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he is so so tired please get off his lawn

#hermitaday #docm77 #hermitcraft fanart #docm fanart #hermitblr #my art #doc #doc has so many tropes that i love drawing but im bad at #mechanical bits.. anthro.. muscles...#anyway i was rlly looking forward to this one i love doc so much #the last time i drew him i drew him more. human guy with horns which i also enjoy seeing in doc designs #but idk. the anthro was calling. if i don't make doc the goat guy an actual goat who on earth else an i gonna do that with #i have furry ocs i just never draw them hfklfhklf #anyway i love the idea of like. all the redstoners having their own aesthetic when it comes to mechanical parts #whether that's actual cyborg bits or just stuff they build #i love imagining doc with like. whats the word. stuff that looks more scrapped together? almost apocalyptic #i imagine hes been working around the stuff for awhile and refuses to adapt to new aesthetics #guy who is still fighting the war. the actual war ended years ago but he just rlly rlly hates those kids on his lawn #and he's not afraid of breaking out the nukes to deal with them #we should all nuke grian #once in awhile #would be good for all of us

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softquietsteadylove · 27 days ago

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Miss your Maleficent AU. Could you maybe write some more of that ? Maybe jealous and protective Gil/Thena

(also I just want to say. I got into Eternals because of your. 👉👈 I love Don Lee, and I came across your post. I didn't know that he played in this movie. Thank you 💕)

Misery. Mating season was pure misery. As far as Thena was concerned, it always had been. Even back in the isles, all mating season meant was morons crooning at her from treetops like seagulls.

She had seen humans aflush with mating hormones. Usually in the spring, they began courting each other. They would trade soft, quiet words, perhaps sing sweet songs and trade trinkets. Humans had such cute mating rituals. Nothing like a bull flying too close and flapping his wings at her.

Thena curled around herself tighter as a couple flew past, way too close to her, and way too close to each other. Their wings were hitting each other on occasion. Some of their feathers floated down into Thena's space.

She stood with a huff, sending the errant feathers away. This was a poor place to choose as her waiting spot. But she had a view of the side entrance to the nest this way.

The patrol would be back any time now.

As the nights grew shorter, the patrols too grew longer. She could see from her higher vantage point the way Druig was one of the most eager to crowd the entrance. He was waiting for his own mate.

She was waiting for hers...in a sense.

Not that she and Gilgamesh were declared to each other. They weren't really mates, in the way most would consider the term. But she had his feather! And he had hers, even if not displayed publicly.

"They're almost here!" she heard one eager, young fae bubble gleefully to her friend waiting next to her. They were bouncing in their excitement. "Do you think he'll land first?"

Thena rolled her eyes. Young spring fledglings yet to face the harsh winds of the world.

"The captain always lands last!"

Thena bristled, as did her wings. She fluffed them, attempting to smooth them down of their own accord. She couldn't let her hackles raise to every young chick who was aflutter over Gilgamesh. She would never know peace if she did.

Gilgamesh was a very desirable specimen. He was the captain of the nest's border patrol, as well as a personal guard when occasions called for it within the nest. He was a good hunter, a provider, strong, a skilled flier, and he was handsome-

Thena walked away from her waiting spot, refusing to watch Gilgamesh be ogled as soon as he arrived with the rest of the border patrol shift. He could come and find her if he wanted to share some food, or her company.

She wasn't his mate, so what was she waiting on him for?

If she had to watch him be given mating trinkets she might not be responsible for her actions. She trudged through the tunnels instead, determined to take the caves back to the inner cliffs. Perhaps she would just drag herself back to her nest and lie around like a pitiful runt with a broken wing. At least she would be the only one to witness her own misery.

"Are you lost?"

She looked up, shocked to be spoken to in the middle of her brooding. She hadn't even realised she had passed another fae. He was an arctic fae, she gathered from his light coloured robes and the silvery shine in his hair and even his eyelashes. "What?"

"The gathering fire has been lit, they will be handing out food," he repeated, even pointing in the direction from which she had just come. "I wouldn't want you to miss out."

She frowned. What business was it of his if she missed the first servings of meal time? "Perhaps that is my choice to make."

"Yes, of course." But he smiled, showing off pearly white fangs. He was a pretty thing; she was certain he would also be giggled and flapped over by the eligible and awaiting fae out there.

Just like Gilgamesh.

Her mood still soured, Thena turned, determined to continue on her way.

"There will be fruit."

It was impossible for her to hide that her ears perked at that. They were practically fluttering like her wings at the thought. Winter had made it hard to find the sweet, delicate morsels she so loved. Her eyes must have looked bloodthirsty when she looked at him again.

He smiled warmly, hands folded into the sleeves of his robes. "I heard that once mating season begins, the last of the dried fruit rations are distributed, as a celebration that fresh fruit will begin growing once more."

She regarded him cautiously. He was promising a great treasure--almost too good to be true. "Heard?"

"Ah, I have travelled much in my life, I too am not native to this area," he excused with a laugh. "Although I come from the north, I had the pleasure of experiencing the southern Isles many years ago. I remember how lush the fruit was, no matter the season."

Indeed, it was the only thing she missed of the Isles. She approached him again. "You lived on the Isles?"

"For a time, yes," he sighed, opening his eyes again. They were a pretty colour, she had to admit--much like the waters of her island home. "I was quite happy during the time I spent there."

A smile came to her face, perhaps from sheer nostalgia. The thought of warm winds and soft sands and the sounds of her brothers' laughter (when they were still small and cute) came to mind. "They are pleasant."

"Pleasant, yes," he agreed. His smile changed slightly and he stepped closer to her, "and beautiful."

She blinked; had she misread his intentions. Her feathers weren't standing on end, but she couldn't help but tilt her head at him. "Hm?"

"I do miss the beauty of the Isles," he repeated. He was no coward. "The soft gold of the sands, the sparkling green of the seas. Truly the most beautiful sights one can behold."

She clasped her hands behind her back. She couldn't very well tell him he was speaking to a mated fae--he wasn't. Her tongue turned sour again and her frown returned without any need to force it. "I don't-"

"Ah, forgive me," he offered with genuine sounding contrition. He even stepped away again, back to a more respectful distance. "I do not wish to cause you discomfort."

She eyed him. He had taken no for an answer, which frankly put him ranks above plenty of the hormone driven bulls out there. She straightened her back, stating firmly, "I'm not looking for a mate."

"Then let it be so," he agreed easily. His voice was like silk. "I will not ask anything of you."

Thena maintained the distance he himself had offered. But if he truly was ready to accept her answer, then perhaps something of a friend would not be the worst to have in this mothernest. She was starting to realise that with exception to Gilgamesh, she had made little effort to find more, now that this was their home.

"I confess I knew you were from the Isles the second I saw you," he offered, again his own defense, but not disavowing his declaration of her beauty. "I have longed to return to the Isles for many years now. I was eager to speak with someone else who knew them."

"Hm," she contemplated her options aloud. She could surely talk with him about her past home. There weren't many other options, after all. And so long as he kept it to himself if he found her beautiful or not, she could concede having some company besides Ikaris might be nice.

"Your brothers flew here with you, yes?"

She relaxed some at the mention of her brothers. She was not the only one he had learned about. "Yes, we all made the journey together."

"Druig, the younger one," he began carefully. "I was not able to connect that he was from the Isles and your kin until recently, I confess."

She had to smile. Druig did look quite her opposite, in many ways. He had short horns, dark and coiled tightly to his head. Dark hair, sharp features, and his wings were like the darkest part of the ocean.

"He is mated with Makkari, the lightning guard."

That was a fitting name for her, Thena had to admit. "I am quite happy with the match."

"What of your other brother?" her new acquaintance asked, his hands back in his sleeves again.

Ikaris was like a medium between her and Druig. He had some grey in his hair, peppery toned wings like a great owl. Thena sighed. "I fear no one would be able to stomach him as a mate."

Her companion laughed. He had a nice laugh, his voice light but also somewhat husky. "Surely he can't be so bad."

"I fear he is worse," she rebutted, making him laugh more. It wasn't as nice as Gilgamesh's laugh, but it was nice to hear any laughter, now that she thought about it. Perhaps mating season was getting to her after all.

"I have seen him with Ajak's assistant," he offered.

She too had seen him hovering whenever Sersi was in the open. But Ikaris was too ungraced to approach her directly. Thena feared that he had picked that up from her directly. "She will need to court him herself if she has hopes of making it through his agate of a skull."

"An agate for a skull?" he questioned, humored by her term for it.

"Large, some might find it pretty, but it's technically hollow inside."

Her friend threw his head back in laughter, truly enjoying himself now. She had to smile, too. It was nice to make someone laugh.

"I have heard much worse about siblings from others, if anything he should be grateful you compare him to something so desired," he chuckled, wiping a tear from his silvery eyelash in laughter.

"Indeed, he has had females pursue him in the past," Thena lamented, back to ruminating upon mating season. "But he is too dense to realise. I end up having to break the news to them that he is...not the courting type."

"Ah," he made a face of feigning understanding.

She frowned again, looking at him. He was a pretty fae, she could see that. But something made her bristle again. "Why aren't you out there?"

"Hm?"

"I know why I am here," she continued, feeling as if the air were shifting around her. Her feathers started rising. "No one uses the tunnels."

He tilted his head at her, utterly innocent looking. "I thought a quiet walk might be nice. All the mating season chirping-"

"Your wings drag," she pointed out, looking down at their feet, her sandals and his slippers. Indeed, his silvery wings were dragging on the ground behind him, they were so long. He wouldn't be taking the cave tunnels unless he had to.

He sighed, and harshly at that.

Her brows furrowed. "Did you expect to find me?"

"I followed you in here," he grumbled, some of the smoothness of his voice leaving him. "I've been trying to speak with you for some time now, but you're always slipping away like a wriggly little eel."

She shivered; she hated eels.

"When I saw you come down here I thought," he shrugged, making quite light of the confession to having tailed her like a predator. "This was my chance to talk with you."

Whether he meant that literally or was alluding to more than speaking, she bristled. She was no one's prey. "Was any of what you said true?"

He gave her a look, thoroughly irritated with her now. It was a sharp contrast to how gentle and soft he had seemed mere moments ago. "I didn't falsify anything. I did just want to talk with you."

He did seem genuinely discouraged. Perhaps it was the privilege of being a bull that he had no idea how threatening it felt to find herself entrapped with him like this.

"But you're always hanging around with that meathead."

Her wings bristled for an entirely new reason. "Who?"

"The captain," he sighed--scoffed, rather. "Gilgamesh?--throws his weight around, doesn't talk much. I have only seen him a few times during his duties and he seems...staunch."

He couldn't have been further from the truth. "He is not."

"You fly with him often," he pointed out, and she tried not to let it ruffle her. "He was your escort when you arrived from the isles."

She stood her ground.

"I always thought it should have been me," he muttered, letting some bitterness come through in it. "I volunteered, actually. I told Ajak about living in the Isles in years past--it made the most sense for me to be your escort!"

He sounded quite certain about that.

"But she chose him," he rolled his eyes, even pulling his hands out of his sleeves to run a hand over his horns. They were long, but they were downturned. Thena liked how Gil's flowed back from his head, like the depictions of old dragons in some cultures.

"You are envious of him."

He made a face, and Thena realised that perhaps this was one of those times when she was no more graceful with their own kind than Ikaris. It was an uncouth thing to say aloud. He looked at her with wild eyes and approached her with his shoulders forward. His wings raised and even confined within the space they were, they were huge. "Me?!--jealous of him?!"

Thena took a step back, but he continued to push his way into her space. She shouldn't have said that (even if she was right). And now she was trapped in a tunnel where she wouldn't be able to fly, at least not at any decent speed.

He slapped the cave wall between them, his temper now in full control. "What could that urchin brained, thick skulled, sea salt coated idiot have that I don't-?!"

Thena blinked as he was yanked backwards so far that he fell straight onto his wings. He yowled and grumbled as he was stepped over, his pretty wings being bent and rumpled as he attempted to pick himself up with the weight of them working against him.

"Careful you don't hurt your thick skull."

Gilgamesh stepped over the other male, completely unbothered by his agonised groans radiating through the tunnel around them. He walked over to her, leaning down to her ear, "are you unharmed?"

She nodded, happy she was still clasping her hands behind her and around her wings, which were absolutely vibrating at the sight of him. Her heart hammered in her ears. "Yes."

"Good." Gilgamesh's voice was deep, and smooth, and pleasant to the ear. He turned back to the other fae present. "You!"

"Ugh," the male grunted, finally able to pick himself up. He huffed and puffed, hair ruffled and wings positively bedraggled. "What the hell was that for?! I was-"

Gilgamesh was in front of him in a second, nose to nose, eye to eye. His fists clenched audibly. "If I ever hear of you following anyone around, let alone trapping them in a tunnel?"

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't trap her-"

Gilgamesh grasped the front of the opposition's robes. He brought his face close, growling right in it, fangs bared, breath heavy. "If I ever see you say even a word to her again-"

"Won't happen," he was quick to try and slither his way out of trouble. Like a wriggly little eel, Thena thought.

"Ever!" Gilgamesh roared right in his face, shaking him. "You come near her again, and I'll shatter your wings so badly you'll never even feel the wind in them again."

The fae paled; it was about a serious a threat as there ever could be. He wrestled himself from Gilgamesh's grip and began backing his way out of the tunnel, head down, wings pressed flat. "Never again. Consider me gone."

They could hear his steps scurrying out of the tunnel almost the entire way back to the opening. Gil turned back to her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She looked down at her toes. She felt foolish for having thought he had innocent intentions, even for a second. And perhaps he did, but she didn't feel any better about it.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked her gently, coming to her and reaching out for her hand. "I landed and went looking for you."

She kept her eyes down, not wanting to admit that she hadn't wanted to see him fawned over by other faeries. "I didn't feel I had the stomach for it."

She wasn't exactly explaining herself. But Gilgamesh accepted that, moving closer until he could pull her into his arms. She sighed as his hand drifted between her wings, massaging the knot that had formed there.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, burying his nose in her hair. "I should have been here to fend him off."

She inhaled the scent of him from his robes. She did want that. She wanted him to be around to fend off others in the name of keeping them away from his mate. She wanted to be able to tell the young fledglings that openly lusting after another's mate was unseemly. She wanted him to be hers as much as she felt he already was.

Gil pulled away first, holding her cheeks to kiss her properly. Their lips parted but he stayed close, his forehead to hers. "I know I'm not...we're not...I know. But I'm your mate, Thena--I am. And I'm not gonna let anyone think otherwise."

She pulled her head back enough to look at him, her lashes fluttering. He stared into them, his eyes such deep brown pools that made her want to sink into them. And they were so honest--she could believe everything she saw in them. She blushed.

Gilgamesh accepted as she kissed him again, slipping her hands under his wings and up his back. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm here now."

"Hm," she purred, happy just to enjoy a moment with him away from prying eyes. She rose onto her toes to nestle her nose right into the folds of his robes. And there, she found her feather, tucked away against his heart. She was in her rightful place, as far as he was concerned.

"Hey, you didn't eat, right?" he asked, eager to move past this unfortunate episode. "I found you something."

Her ears perked again--wings fluffed again.

Gilgamesh pulled out a pouch. Before it was even open her eyes went wide at the scent. He grinned, "we flew out pretty far today. But I found a few of these."

Her eyes sparkled as he handed over the treasure; an agate in its own right, filled with its own kind of jewels. She loved pomegranate.

"How 'bout we get away from all the noise," he chuckled, handing over the treasure so he could wrap his arm around her waist. "And I'll feed you those little seeds."

"Arils," she corrected, but with a wide smile, entirely too thrilled to have one of her favourite - rare - fruits within her hands again.

Gilgamesh just chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Anything my mate desires."

#Thenamesh Maleficent AU #that's so sweet thank you so so much!!!!#I'm always happy when someone can discover the under appreciated gem that is Eternals #And Thena and Gil are the best part of that movie #I have long thought about what mating season would look like in this au #Thena is here like an angsty teenager grumbling about how no one understands her #meanwhile the whole way home Gil is so excited to bring home these pomegranates to Thena #to his mate #and so they find some time alone #they're in her nest curled up on her bed #Gil pulls the pomegranate apart with his bare hands #and then he and Thena feed the seeds to each other #like romantic losers #all cuddly and canoodling #Gil pays her extra love and compliments and attention #also that dude does just plain leave #he tells Ajak he's going back to the isles and packs up and leaves as soon as his feathers are in order again #Gil: oh noooooo how could that happen?#when in reality #no one is gonna get away with flirting with his girl #they totally end up all cuddled up all night too #and Ikaris STILL has no idea what's going on #he's trying to just so much as talk to Sersi #also Thena is here like ugh I hate watching Gil get fawned over #meanwhile she's got males tripping horns over heels for her #and Gilgamesh has to come back from work and be like get out get away from her you pests!!!#he tells Kingo to keep them away from her when he's not there

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thegameartist03 · 4 months ago

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b plot characters time!!

Henry Clerval and Elizabeth Lavenza

i’m too tired to write out a coherent character thing, but they are both trans and they swap names and disguise themselves so Henry can go to college and become a doctor with Victor and Elizabeth can escape her family. Justine and maybe William could be in on it but i haven’t thought about their characters enough so idk yet

everything goes well until Victor straight up disappears and they decide to search for him.

and Mr. Gabriel John Utterson!

his design stumped me for a while so it might not stay the same. he ends up bumping into Henry and Elizabeth on their search for Victor, sort of figures out what’s up with them, realizes they aren’t great at this whole undercover thing, and decides to help them (he’s 100% an ally). they’re headed to the same place anyway, and even investigating the same person (a ‘Dr. Henry Jekyll’ aka Victor using the name of his fav mysteriously disappeared scientist)

Utterson is searching for someone as well, the REAL Henry Jekyll in fact. instead of the book ending, Hyde managed to give Utterson the slip, avoid the police, and all but disappear with a final message at the end of Jekyll’s confession challenging the lawyer to find him. Utterson has been searching for years, both for Hyde and for answers about his good friend Jekyll, but they keep dancing around each other.

#gamma’s art #modern alchemist #ocs #henry clerval #elizabeth lavenza #gabriel john utterson #absolutely taking design suggestions for utterson #i couldn’t find a lot to go off of so i went for vibes #also yes Elizabeth’s horn is glued on #Henry cut his off before he left and she’s been using it ever since #when the frankensteins… /acquired/ henry #(which he was not happy about)#victor was like ‘hey you look uncannily like my friend Elizabeth!’#also HOW PUT DRESS ON HORSE #i did my best #i also did my best with the fashion #i figured anything with a low neckline wasn’t gonna work #Utterson who is already so deep in the case of trying to figure out what’s up with Jekyll and Hyde #now chasing Hyde around the world looking for answers #he read Lanyon’s confession and Jekyll’s confession #but some part of his friend is still out there #the mystery is still out there #he can’t help but keep chasing it

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aikainkauna · 4 months ago

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Tumblr, I am disappoint. A couple of years ago a sizeable chunk of you history nerds were nuts for The Longest Day in Chang'an and now, when I finally managed to finish it (it was AWESOME; one of the best shows I've ever seen, full stop) I come online and find

A) WHY DID NOBODY WARN ME ABOUT GENERAL GAN SHOUCHENG and

B) WHERE IS ALL THE THIRSTY GENERAL GAN CONTENT?! Now, I know that cdrama fandom is pretty chaste and that in much of Asia, perving is something you keep private and I can respect that. Ok. Cultural differences, I'm cool with that. I'll keep the lewdz to my Pillowfort.

But still! Look at him! A hot baddie with stupendous amounts of guyliner and a carefully coiffed Beard of Evil, he gets a scene like this, and there's no chaste and ladylike swooning or oohing or aahing, even?!?!

#grouse has a side crush #only about 10% of what i feel for connie bc it's a human and not a god i'm crushing on here #but it's still pretty ooooh #it's like someone put fadl and lau in a blender #and served me with kinda the same level of angry horn i have for baz #that kind of situation #i'm not even tagging this appropriately bc i fear i'll get yelled at by someone bc this is tumblr #and i'm keeping the pervy tags to pillowfort #but #uh #hi #i need help #so tell me if there's content #i'm fine with even gen fic if there's fic #the actor keeps changing his name too so this isn't making things any easier #i know he got into trouble some 10+ years ago or whatever but i understand dude reformed and made a comeback #but when china cancels you they want you to stay cancelled #which hardly motivates anyone to reform now does it?#so idk if this guy's even working anymore #also tan qi is so badass i can't even ship her with him #i mean normally i'm all about throwing a goodie to be glomped by the baddie and making them enjoy it despite themselves #but it's be too ooc for her #having said that if it exists in well-written form i may consider reading it #otherwise i want him back in s2 thanks #just so tan qi can rip his eyes out #as nice as his eyes look with all that guyliner #oh god i need to come up with a lady oc to pair him with bc he's too hot to leave without #so maybe lin jiu lang has a hot bored wife and she sees the handsome general pacing the courtyard #like an angry tiger ready to pounce #the longest day in chang'an

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

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Chubby reader x monster!141…. Chubby reader where you are at all-time-low after your ex cheated on you with the woman you had always been insecure of (she was everything you were not), so now you are just done. Done with him, with her, with your terrible work that forced you to come in even while sick, done with life.

So you go to a bar, and intend to fully drink yourself and all your sorrows away. You don’t even care enough to ask any friends to accompany you- they knew. They fucking knew. Calling them friends anymore is just stupid- and you don’t care enough to look around at anyone; you know you aren’t anyone’s preference either.

When a man, big and burly, curling horns and two big ass wings (maybe one of those dragon shifters? You know harpies have feathers, but the rest of your brain is too muddled) sits down next to you, you just ignore him and continue nursing your drink, trying your best to bite back the tears in your eyes.

“That’s enough now, love,” he croons, and much to your confusion, he takes the glass away from you. His voice is rough and rumbling, like thunder. Too hazy, too drunk, you don’t even care enough to get angry at him. No, your eyes fill with tears instead. “No, no, calm down. Let’s get you out of here, alright, little love?”

Another man joins your other side, just as big and burly but shorter than the dragon man who is making you tear up by holding your drink, your source of solace tonight, hostage in his hand. This one is a werewolf, his ears flicking in your direction much like his grin and his tail eagerly thumping to and fro against your chair.

“Sweet lass,” he croons, your teary eyes flicking towards him. You can see his hands clench in the air. Why, why, why- you just wanted to drink away. They are both so handsome, such a shame they clearly don’t like you and are just bothering you for the sake of bothering you, a fat woman in a miserable corner. “Enough tears and enough alcohol, aye, hen? Yer aff yer heid!”

His words are so strange, your tears momentarily pause. “What…?” You wonder outloud, shivering when you feel a warm breath across your neck, warming your skin. The dragon. His hand settles on your lower back, nudging you to get off the chair with them, and you feel like crying again. He probably can feel all the fat there, how horrible-

“Careful there, little love.” Dragon steadies you with two hands when you get dizzy, and with weak hands you try to swat at him, try to move away, but the werewolf is at your other side and keeping you pressed between them.

“S’op… stop callin’ me that,” you mumble. The tears roll down then. “Not- not funny, not at all-��

Two other hands on your back, a tail thumping against the back of your thighs, you are still led outside even as you babble about everything. Your size, your ex, the one your ex cheated, your work, your ex-

You want your damn drink back.

For their part, Price and Johnny didn’t think coming out for a drink tonight would lead to finding their last soulmate. The second they had entered the dinky bar, John had expected to need to puff out a deep, smoky breath to keep his nose clean from all the overwhelming smells and Johnny had prepared to to keep his nose happily pressed into John’s skin.

They hadn’t expected to smell you, something like the smell of stepping into a warm home after spending time out in winter, something like watching soft, golden sunlight stream into the nest room on a morning they spend sleeping in with Kyle and Simon. Like soulmate, like the last link of John’s hoarde and Johnny’s pack, and he has no doubt that you are Kyle’s nest and Simon’s. Simply his. A part of him just as you are a part of them.

Driven so wholly by instincts, seeing you drunk and crying pushing them even more into said instincts, they easily you herd along with them, back to their home. All explanations, everything else can wait until tomorrow. You are so soft to the touch, all tender and squishy, they already think you so perfect. In the back of the car, it doesn’t take seconds before you are dozing off and dead to the world, already so trusting.

By tomorrow morning, Simon would be easily able to track down where you live and get all your items. And also find that shitty ex of yours. John hasn’t yet decided if he wants to thank or beat him.

Watching the way Johnny holds you in his lap from the rearview mirror while he drives, hands squeezing your lovehandles with a low groan, mumbling about how much he already adores you, soft bonnie hen, all theirs- John decides he doesn’t give a single fuck about your ex at the moment. He needs to hold you between his arms and wings, in the comfort of his nest.

Fuck, he might end up breaking more than just a few speed limits.

Part two

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starry-bi-sky · 9 months ago

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I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

#I AM LOUDLY PUSHING THE BATDAD AGENDA #anyways— add ons are encouraged i wanna talk more dpxdc with folks i just cant find any aus i really like enough to engage with #which is nobody's fault and its why im making my own content in order to reach more people #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc #dp x dc #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc crossover #dpdc #dc x dp #dpxdc prompts #i took a ‘which batfam member are you (except its personal)’ quiz a few days ago #and got bruce wayne. and then was promptly read to filth why im most like him and it rudely but accurately explained why im the most like #him. it also consequently explained to me why i like him so much. whenever i see him in his kindest form i see a mirror looking back #anyways lots of ‘danny rejecting bruce as a parent’ aus. may i present: bruce and danny finding family in each other aus. batdad aus pls.#dpxdc prompt #dcxdp #this prompt can take place at any point of Batkid accumulation but personally i was imagining this as before Bruce has any of his kids yet #eldest brother danny supremacy and also just that one on one bonding #danny being someone who was never afraid of the dark as a kid and even less so as he got older. taking solace in it as a ghost because you #cant hide in the dark when you glow. his enemies can't jump out at him. but he can jump out at them. how can he be afraid of the dark when #the dark is where the stars like to live? there's a comfort in the shadows. there might be something hiding in it. but he's hiding in it to #blood blossoms eat ghosts headcanon #wasn't sure where i was gonna go with this at the beginning and then i caught steam.#batman casually kidnaps an orphan upon kid's request. also the kid was Actively Dying Of Poison. What was he gonna do?? NOT help him?#mister 'keeps candy in his utility belt specifically for scared children'??? no way.

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vanteguccir · 3 months ago

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── ୨୧ !　CAR CRASH

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where an amazing date night leads to a devastating car accident, leaving Y/N severely injured and Matt hospitalized and feeling extremely guilt.

WARNING: Car crash, blood, gore (nothing too extreme), mentions of surgery and death.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The night had been perfect. The kind of night that made Matt wish he could bottle up every second and live it over and over again. As they cruised down the road, Y/N’s laughter filled the car, bubbling up with a joy that made his heart swell. He stole a quick glance at her, unable to resist the smile tugging at his lips as he watched her eyes crinkle at the corners.

It was all almost too serene. The road was deserted, stretching ahead like a long, winding ribbon through the dense forest. Trees lined both sides, their dark silhouettes swaying gently in the cool breeze. The glow from the dashboard lights bathed Matt’s face in a soft blue hue, highlighting the way his jaw clenched whenever he concentrated on the road.

Matt’s hand rested gently on Y/N’s thigh, fingers intertwined with hers. The music in the background was just soft enough to allow their conversation to drift through the air. Their fingers were laced together like they had been for years, her thumb softly brushing over the back of his hand in a way that always sent a thrill through him.

"You know." Y/N started, turning to look at him with that familiar, teasing sparkle in her eyes. "I still can’t believe you almost choked on that dessert tonight."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Hey, those strawberries were huge, okay? It’s not my fault they didn’t fit in my mouth." Matt chuckled, his voice low and slightly raspy as he lifted her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"Sure, that’s what she said." She quipped, sending a playful wink towards the brunette.

His laughter echoed through the car, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Hey, babe, we should-"

But before he could finish his sentence, Y/N's heart jumped to her throat as she noticed something.

"Matt!" Y/N’s scream pierced the air like needles.

Matt’s heart seized, his veins flooded with pure adrenaline. The world seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into infinity as he turned his eyes from Y/N to the approaching car. It was swerving uncontrollably, zigzagging across the two-lane road, headlights blinding and erratic.

Panic gripped him like a vice. His instincts kicked in, hands flying to the steering wheel as he yanked it to the right with all his strength, desperate to avoid a head-on collision. The tires screamed in protest, the smell of burning rubber filling the car as the vehicle veered off the asphalt, gravel spraying against the undercarriage like bullets.

The seatbelt bit into his chest, and Matt let out a guttural grunt as the force of the swerve tried to rip him sideways.

"Hold on!" He shouted, the words raw and choked with fear.

But there was no time to process, no time to think. In the chaos, Matt’s vision narrowed to a tunnel. He could barely make out the blur of trees and darkness as the car skidded off the road. The other car blazed past them, its horn blaring like a scream of rage, disappearing into the night as if it had never been there.

Matt’s heart hammered in his chest, every beat like a drum of dread. He tried to correct the car’s course, but it seemed to be impossible with the velocity of it, and the steering wheel slipped under his frantic grip. The headlights illuminated nothing but shadows and thick trees ahead, and before he could even register what was happening, the world exploded into chaos.

The impact was instant. The front of the car crumpled like a tin can as it collided with the tree, the force of the crash sending them both jolting forward. Y/N’s scream was cut short as her side of the car bore the brunt of the crash, the airbags exploding around them in a cloud of powder.

Everything went black.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A few seconds - or maybe minutes, Matt couldn’t tell - passed before he came to. The first thing he noticed was the sharp, metallic taste of blood in his mouth, his head throbbing like it was being split open. His vision was blurred, darkness and flashing colors swirling together as he tried to blink them away.

"Y/N..." He croaked, his voice barely a whisper. Panic seized his chest like a vice grip as he turned his head, trying to see her through the haze. "Y/N!"

She was slumped against her seat, her head tilted unnaturally to the side, blood smeared across her forehead where she’d hit the window.

"No, no, no, no!" Matt’s voice came out in a broken sob as he reached for her, his hands trembling violently. Pain shot through his ribs with every movement, but he ignored it, his vision blurred with tears. "Y/N! Wake up, please, wake up!"

But she didn’t move.

"C'mon, please. Please- fucking shit!"

He could barely breathe, his chest tightening as though an invisible hand was crushing his lungs. Warm blood trickled down his temple, but he barely noticed it. All he could focus on was Y/N, slumped lifelessly beside him.

"What do I do? What do I do?" His bloody hands flew to his head, smearing it all around his skin. "An ambulance, I need-need to call an ambulance."

His trembling fingers fumbled with his phone, hands slick with blood and sweat, and his vision blurred with tears. He couldn’t think straight; everything was a whirlpool of noise, pain, and terror. As he finally managed to dial 911, he searched for Y/N hand, squeezing the cold, unmoving member, his other hand shaking so hard it almost dropped the phone.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Matt could hardly get the words out, his throat so tight it felt like he was being strangled.

"We-we've been in an accident! Oh god, please- please help us! I... I don’t know what to do!"

His voice was a broken sob, the words tumbling out in a chaotic rush, barely coherent. He was gasping for breath, panic clawing at him with icy fingers. He kept glancing at Y/N, hoping, praying that she would suddenly move or blink or give any sign that she was okay. But she was too still, her face shining with blood, eyes closed, and her chest...

He couldn't even tell if it was moving.

"Okay, sir, I need you to try to stay calm. Where are you? Can you give me your location?"

Matt’s mind was spinning, the world around him a dark blur. He tried to remember where they were, but it was like every thought was slipping through his fingers.

"Uh- I, I don’t know! Somewhere near... near Elm and... I think we’re by a park or something. There’s glass everywhere, and- she's not... she’s not waking up!"

As he spoke, Matt’s voice cracked again, his words coming out in choked sobs. His free hand kept shaking Y/N’s shoulder, trying to rouse her, to pull her back to him.

"Alright, I’ve got your location. Help is on the way. Sir, I need you to focus for a moment. Is anyone else in the car with you?"

Matt’s voice broke into a desperate wail.

"Yes, yes, it’s my girlfriend. She-she’s not moving! I tried to wake her, but... but she’s just lying there, and she’s bleeding. Oh god, there’s so much blood!"

He couldn’t stop his crying, his entire body shaking as if he were freezing. Maybe he was.

"Okay, I understand. Help is on its way, I promise. But I need you to check if she’s breathing. Can you see if she’s taking any breaths?"

Matt let out a strangled noise, almost animalistic, as he leaned back to try to see. His hands were unsteady and he wiped furiously at his eyes to clear his vision. He leaned closer to her, straining to see if her chest was rising, but everything was too dark and chaotic.

"I-I can’t tell! I’m trying, but she’s not moving! Please, just help her!" His voice rose to a scream at the end, cracking under the weight of his despair.

"We're doing everything we can, sir. You’re doing great, okay? Just stay with me. Take a deep breath. I need you to look at her chest. Is it rising and falling, even a little?"

Matt tried. He really tried. But all he could see was blood. Blood on her eyes, her lips, her collarbone. He could barely make out her features through the darkness and the horror of what was happening.

"I don’t know, I don’t know!" He cried, his voice breaking into another sob. "It’s too dark, and her hair- there’s so much blood on her face. I’m scared to move her, I don’t want to hurt her more! Y/N, baby, come on. Please, don’t leave me." He begged, his voice raw with desperation.

He reached for his own seatbelt, fingers fumbling as he tried to undo the latch, but it was jammed. Tears blurred his vision constantly, frustration and fear boiling over as he yanked at it, the metal digging into his palms.

When the seatbelt finally gave way, he turned his attention back to her face.

"I’m here, I’m here." He whispered, pressing frantic kisses to her forehead, ignoring the cold of her skin and the taste of blood hitting his tongue. "I’m not leaving you, okay? Just stay with me."

"You’re doing the right thing by staying with her, sir." Their voice made him remember that he was still with the call on-going. "Just keep talking to her, alright? I know it’s hard, but you need to stay calm for her. What’s her name?"

Her name. God, her name was everything. It was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep. He let out a shuddering breath.

"Y/N... Her name’s Y/N." He whispered, his voice raw. He cradled her face with his free hand, gently brushing the blood-streaked strands of hair away. "She’s so cold. Why is she so cold?"

"Y/N is going to be okay, sir. We’re sending an ambulance to you right now. I need you to tell me: are you hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?"

Matt’s mind was short-circuiting, the edges of his vision tinged with black spots. But he couldn’t focus on himself. He couldn’t care less if he was bleeding or broken.

"N-No, I’m fine. It’s just her. She-she hit her head so hard." His voice broke into a whisper at the end, as if saying it too loudly would make it more real.

"I understand. But you might not realize you’re hurt because of the adrenaline. Can you check if you’re bleeding or if you feel any pain?"

Matt’s eyes darted frantically between his phone and Y/N. He couldn’t think about himself, couldn’t even process what they were asking.

"I told you, I’m fine!" He screamed into the phone, his voice cracking with a desperate fury. "I’m fine! It’s Y/N! Just... please save her! She’s... she’s everything. I can’t-" His words broke off into a series of harsh, broken sobs.

"I hear you, and I promise we're doing everything we can. Help is almost there, okay?"

Matt nodded frantically, even though they couldn’t see him. He clung to Y/N’s hand like a lifeline, pressing it to his lips, whispering her name over and over.

"Please, baby, stay with me... Please. You’re so strong. You can get through this. Just keep breathing for me, okay? Please..."

Outside, the wailing sirens grew louder, the red and blue lights flashing through the shattered windows of the car.

"Please... don’t leave me." He whispered one last time, the sound of his door being ripped open sounding muffled before the darkness around him finally swallowed him whole.

The last thing he felt was Y/N’s cold hand slipping from his grasp as the world went dark.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A slow, rhythmic beeping was the first thing Matt became aware of as he drifted back into consciousness. His eyelids were heavy, as if weighed down by invisible anchors, and when he finally managed to pry them open, his vision was blurred, everything around him a hazy mix of white and blue. The smell of antiseptic stung his nostrils, making his head spin, and the low hum of machinery filled the air.

Matt blinked, trying to clear the fog from his mind. The room was dim, a soft light glowing from a corner lamp, casting long shadows across the pale walls.

There was an IV taped to his arm, the clear tube connected to a bag hanging from a metal pole beside the bed. His body felt like it had been crushed, every breath sending a dull throb through his ribs.

It hurt to move, but he turned his head slowly, trying to get his bearings. That’s when he noticed the figure slumped in an uncomfortable-looking position on a small armchair near the bed.

Chris.

His brother was fast asleep, his face drawn with exhaustion, dark circles etched beneath his eyes. The armchair seemed to have been pushed so close to the bed that it almost touched it, like Chris had wanted to stay as close to him as possible.

Matt’s mind was sluggish, like wading through thick mud. He couldn't remember how he’d ended up here. Why was he in a hospital? What had happened?

As he lay there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory, a flash of vivid color cut through the fog like a lightning bolt; Y/N’s face, pale and covered in blood, slumped in the seat next to him.

The memory hit him like a truck, and suddenly everything came rushing back at once: the crash, the panic, the desperate phone call. Y/N’s lifeless body beside him.

"Y/N!" The name ripped out of his throat, raw and broken.

Adrenaline flooded his veins, pushing away the pain as panic seized him. He tried to sit up, ignoring the sharp agony that shot through his side and the dizziness that made his head sway. The only thought in his mind was finding her, making sure she was okay. He had to see her. He had to know if she was still-

His hands scrambled at the IV taped to his arm, trying to yank it free.

"No, no, no... C'mon, I need to find her!" He gasped, his voice frantic and uneven. His vision blurred with tears, anxiety closing in like a vice around his chest.

Chris woke with a sudden start, his eyes snapping open. For a split second, he was disoriented, but then he saw Matt struggling on the bed, clawing at the IV line.

"Matt! Hey, stop. Stop!" Chris practically leaped from the couch, crossing the short distance to his brother in a heartbeat.

Matt barely registered Chris’s presence.

"Let go of me! I need to find her!" His voice was wild, a desperate, guttural scream. He shoved at Chris with what little strength he had, the effort sending another stab of pain through his ribs, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Y/N. She was out there somewhere, alone, hurt. He had to get to her.

Chris’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of his brother in such a state. He grabbed Matt’s hands, trying to stop him from tearing the IV out.

"Matt, listen to me! You need to calm down!" His voice was steady, but there was an edge of panic in it, fear for both Matt’s physical and mental state.

He pushed the call button for the doctor frantically, knowing they needed help, now.

Matt was beyond reason. He was sobbing, his voice breaking as he shouted like crazy.

"Get off me, Chris! Please, I have to find her! Y/N- where is she? Where’s Y/N?!" He thrashed against Chris’s grip, raw terror coursing through him. His mind was a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

Chris used every ounce of strength he had to pin Matt’s hands down against the bed, his fingers digging into Matt’s wrists. He leaned in close, his face inches from Matt’s, forcing him to make eye contact.

"Matt, you need to stop!" He shouted, his voice cracking. "Listen to me, please! Nick is with her, and they’re taking care of her! You have to stay here and let them help you, okay? You’re hurt, too!"

But it was like Matt couldn’t even hear him.

"No, no, no! She’s not okay, she wasn’t moving! I need to see her, Chris! Let me go!" His screams were hoarse, filled with a raw, primal agony that tore at Chris’s heart.

Before Chris could say anything else, the door burst open, and a doctor, along with two nurses, rushed in, their expressions tense and focused.

"What’s going on?" The doctor demanded as she approached the bed, her gaze flicking between the brothers.

"He’s trying to rip the IV out." Chris said breathlessly, his voice shaking. "Please, he won’t calm down!"

The doctor nodded sharply, gesturing to one of the nurses.

"We need to sedate him before he injures himself further."

"No!" Matt screamed, thrashing even harder against Chris’s grip. "Don’t you dare! I need to find Y/N!" His voice was broken, desperate, his eyes wide and filled with terror.

Chris's hands tightened around Matt’s, holding him down as the nurse prepared a syringe. Tears streamed down Matt’s face, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He was looking at Chris with an expression so lost, so utterly heartbroken, it nearly broke Chris, too.

"Matt, listen to me." Chris pleaded, his own voice breaking. "She’s going to be okay. But you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t stop. I promise, I promise I’ll take you to her as soon as they say it’s okay. But you have to calm down, okay? Please, Matt..."

Matt’s eyes were wild, searching Chris’s for any sign of a lie, any hint that he was just trying to placate him. But Chris’s face was so full of anguish, so full of love and sincerity, that Matt’s resolve wavered for a moment.

The nurse took advantage of that brief second of hesitation, quickly inserting the needle into Matt’s IV line. Within seconds, the sedative began to take effect. Matt’s thrashing slowed, his screams dying down to broken sobs as the world around him began to blur again.

"No... Chris, please... It was my fault... Y/N..." Matt’s voice was barely a whisper now, his eyelids drooping as the drug pulled him under. The last thing he saw was Chris’s tear-streaked face, mouthing something he couldn’t quite hear before the darkness swallowed him whole.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The darkness that had pulled Matt under before slowly began to recede, but this time, it was different. Darkness enveloped him in a terrifying nightmare, pulling him under like the tide dragging him out to sea.

He was back in the car. The smell of gasoline and blood was suffocating, the crunch of broken glass grinding beneath his legs as he struggled to move. Y/N was next to him, her face ghostly pale, her eyes closed, blood streaming down her forehead and pooling beneath her. Her body lay limp, lifeless against the car seat, and no matter how many times he screamed her name, she didn't stir.

"... Y/N, please! Wake up!" Matt’s voice was raw, his throat burning with the force of his screams. He shook her shoulder frantically, his fingers slick with blood. "No, no, no... please, Y/N, don’t do this to me!" But she remained still, her head slumped to the side, blood trickling down her delicate features.

The world around him was spinning, the sound of sirens in the distance growing louder, yet somehow they never seemed to get closer. His breaths were short, and frantic gasps as he clutched at Y/N, his tears falling onto her lifeless body.

"God, no! Please!" He was breaking, unraveling, his heart tearing apart as he held her close, praying for a miracle that wouldn’t come.

"Matt!"

The voice was distant at first, barely cutting through the thick haze of his panic. But it grew louder, more urgent, like a beacon trying to pierce through the storm in his mind.

"Matt! Come on, wake up!"

But Matt couldn’t make sense of it. His eyes were still glued to Y/N’s lifeless form, his hands desperately trying to stop the flow of blood, his heart shattering with each second that passed. The voice was there again, louder this time, sounding so familiar, so achingly real.

"Matt, it’s okay. You're safe. Matt, listen to me!"

The scene in front of him wavered, flickering like a glitch in a broken film reel. The wrecked car, the blood, Y/N’s unmoving body; all of it seemed to blur, like someone was tearing the nightmare apart at its seams. Matt blinked, his vision shifting between the nightmare and something else. A figure - blurred, indistinct - hovered above him. He could hear that voice again, so much clearer now, so desperate and familiar.

"Y/N?" Matt’s voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes darting around frantically. But his mind was still caught between the nightmare and reality. He could feel Y/N’s cold body beneath his fingers, could see her blood staining his hands. "No, please! Don’t let her die! God, please, don’t take her from me!" His voice broke into anguished sobs, raw and heart-wrenching, as he pleaded into the darkness.

The figure above him froze, and then, in an instant, arms wrapped around him. Matt was pulled into a tight embrace, warmth pressing against his trembling body.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here. Matt, it’s me. You’re safe." Chris’s voice was thick with emotion, his own tears spilling as he held Matt close.

The youngest dropped to his knees beside the hospital bed, leaning over Matt’s shaking form, one arm cradling the back of his head as he tried to bring him back from the brink.

"Shhh, it’s okay, Matt. Y/N is okay. I promise you, she’s alive. It was just a nightmare." Chris whispered desperately into Matt’s ear, his grip tightening when he felt his brother’s body shake with gut-wrenching sobs. He rocked them both slightly, his own chest heaving as he tried to keep it together for Matt’s sake. "I’ve got you, alright? I’m right here. She’s okay. I swear."

But Matt couldn’t process the words. His mind was still stuck in that twisted nightmare, where Y/N was cold and still beneath his hands, where he’d failed to protect her.

"No, no... I have to get to her." He choked out, struggling weakly in Chris’s arms. "I can’t lose her... I can’t..."

"Matt." Chris said more firmly, his voice breaking. He pulled back just enough to look Matt in the eyes, his hands cupping Matt’s face, thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Listen to me. You’re not in the car anymore. You’re in the hospital. Y/N is okay. She’s being taken care of. She’s safe."

Chris’s words were slowly, agonizingly, starting to sink in. Matt’s sobs grew softer, his breaths still ragged and uneven, but the desperate thrashing stopped. He could feel the warmth of Chris’s body, the steady pressure of his hands holding him down, grounding him in the present. The nightmare was slipping away, reality clawing its way back into his consciousness.

Matt’s fingers, which had been gripping Chris’s shirt with bruising force, gradually loosened. He blinked, his vision clearing enough to see the hospital room around him. The blinding lights, the beeping machines, the sterile scent, all of it slowly registered, pulling him further away from the nightmare’s grip.

"Chris...?" Matt’s voice was small, broken, like a lost child. His wide, tear-filled eyes searched Chris’s, looking for confirmation that this wasn’t another twisted dream.

"Yes, it’s me." Chris whispered, his forehead pressing against Matt’s. "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

Matt collapsed into Chris’s arms, his body going limp with exhaustion. The adrenaline that had kept him going drained away, leaving him weak and trembling. He buried his face in Chris’s shoulder, his hands clutching at his brother’s back like a lifeline.

"I thought... I thought I lost her..." He sobbed, his voice muffled and choked. "I couldn’t... I can’t lose her, Chris..."

"I know, I know." Chris murmured, tears streaming down his own face as he held his brother tighter, laying his cheek above his head. "But she’s alive. She’s okay. And you’re okay. We’re all here, Matt. You’re safe."

Slowly, so slowly, Matt’s sobs began to quiet. His breathing evened out, but that only brought the pain to control. Each breath sent a jolt through his bruised ribs. His head throbbed, the pain pulsing behind his eyes, and his skin was clammy with cold sweat. He shivered, his body exhausted and aching, but he let himself lean into Chris’s embrace, the warmth of his brother’s presence keeping him grounded.

Chris continued to murmur soothing words, his hands rubbing circles on Matt’s shoulder, trying to calm the tremors that still wracked his brother’s body.

"You’re okay, Matt. You’re safe. I’ve got you."

Matt let out a shaky breath, his body finally beginning to relax, the nightmare fading further into the recesses of his mind, the steady rhythm of Chris’s heartbeat against his ear helping to calm the storm inside him.

For the first time since waking, Matt felt like he could breathe again. He was still in pain, his body battered and broken, but Chris’s comforting presence kept him anchored, keeping him from slipping back into that dark abyss.

"Can... can you call me the doctor?" Matt whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

"Are you feeling pain?" Chris asked worriedly, receiving a small nod as an answer. "Okay."

Chris brushed back the damp hair on Matt's forehead while pressing his free hand against the red button.

"Chris." Matt croaked out again. "Y/N... how is she?"

His younger brother's face crumpled, and he let out a shaky breath. He looked away for a moment, trying to collect himself before turning back to Matt.

"She... she was in surgery." He said quietly, every word seeming to cost him. "Nick told me... she had internal bleeding, and they had to go in to stop it. She hit her head super hard, too. But... the surgery went well. She’s stable now and probably still asleep."

Matt’s heart shattered at those words, a cold, sick feeling twisting in his stomach. Internal bleeding. Surgery. Y/N had gone through so much, and it was all because he couldn’t control his own damn car. If he had just been paying attention... He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he struggled to hold back the tears.

"Can I... can I maybe see her?" He asked, his voice so small, so broken, it almost didn’t sound like his own.

Chris stared at him for long seconds, his eyes searching Matt’s face, like he was trying to read the thoughts swirling in his mind. And maybe he could see it. Maybe he could sense the guilt that was eating Matt alive. But Chris didn’t press him. Instead, he sighed heavily, searching for his hands and stopping him from hurting himself further.

"The doctor is the one who has to let you." He whispered, biting his bottom lip hard. "You know... I was really scared, Matt. I thought... I thought I was going to lose you forever."

Matt watched the pain swimming inside Chris's blue eyes.

"I’m sorry, Chris." He muttered, his voice cracking. "I’m really sorry for scaring you. You and Nick."

Chris looked down at him, his eyes shining with tears, and shook his head.

"No, Matt... no, it’s not your fault." He said, his voice fierce despite the tears. "I just... I’m just so glad you’re here. That you’re alive."

Matt swallowed hard, his throat tight. He didn’t deserve Chris’s relief, not when Y/N was still out there, hurt because of him.

Before he could say anything else, the sound of the door creaking open echoed, and a doctor stepped in, clipboard in hand. Behind her were two nurses, ready to assist with whatever was needed.

Dr. Patel, a middle-aged woman with gentle eyes, gave Matt a small, reassuring smile as she approached his bedside.

"Good to see you awake and calmer, Mr. Sturniolo. How are you feeling?" She asked, her tone soft yet businesslike.

Matt swallowed, his throat dry and raw from the crying.

"I... I’m in pain." He admitted hoarsely, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Everywhere."

Chris squeezed his hand reassuringly before turning to the doctor.

"Is there something more you can give him for the pain?" Chris asked, his voice thick with concern.

Dr. Patel nodded, her expression turning more serious as she flipped through the pages on her clipboard.

"We’ve been managing his pain with a mild dosage to avoid any complications, but given that he's more conscious now, we can adjust his medication." She gestured to one of the nurses, who immediately set about preparing a new injection.

Matt’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he tried to focus on breathing through the pain. Each inhale felt like it was slicing through his ribs, the weight of his guilt and worry making it even harder to catch his breath.

"Doctor, can... can I see her? Y/N, I mean... please." He pleaded, reopening his eyes before looking at her.

Dr. Patel paused, her gaze softening as she looked at him.

"Let’s take care of your pain first, Matt." She said kindly, her voice a steady anchor in the chaos. "I promise, as soon as you are stable enough, we’ll let you see her."

The nurse approached with the syringe, and Matt turned his head away, too drained to watch as she injected the painkiller into his IV. Moments later, a cooling sensation spread through his veins, slowly dulling the sharp edges of his agony, but it did nothing to ease the turmoil inside him.

As the medication began to work, Matt’s eyelids grew heavier, but he fought against the sleep that threatened to pull him under.

"I'm fine now... please." He begged, his voice wavering. "I'm fine, I need to see her. I... I have to make sure that she’s okay." His breath came in shallow, slow gasps, and his eyes darted to Chris, silently pleading for help.

Chris stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Matt’s shoulder.

"Hey, hey." He whispered, trying to soothe his brother. "Let the doctor decide if you're stable enough, okay? I promise you’ll see her soon."

Matt shook his head stubbornly, the panic still clawing at his chest.

"I promise that I'm feeling okay now, m-my pain is gone." His words sounded slurred, his eyes blinking slowly while trying to keep himself awake, looking at the doctor with determination.

Dr. Patel’s face softened as she listened to Matt’s broken pleas. The room was quiet for a minute, save for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. She glanced at Chris, who was holding his brother’s shoulder tightly, as if trying to anchor him to the present moment.

"Please... I have to see her." He whispered again, the words more of a gasp now. "I just... I need to know she’s really okay."

The doctor sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She understood his desperation, his need to see Y/N with his own eyes. It was a common reaction, patients often believed that seeing their loved ones would somehow confirm their survival would make it more real. And judging by the fear and panic still etched into Matt’s face, this was something he desperately needed.

Dr. Patel turned to the nurse beside her, exchanging a brief, silent conversation before she turned back to the brothers.

"Alright." She said finally, her tone gentle but firm. "We can take you to her room, Matt... but only if you’re in a wheelchair. You’re still recovering yourself, and moving around too much could set back your progress."

Chris’s head whipped toward the doctor, a glimmer of hope lighting up his tired eyes.

"Wait... you mean... he can see her?"

"Yes, but only for a few minutes." Dr. Patel clarified. "And he must stay seated. We’ll have to monitor him closely."

Matt’s entire body seemed to sag in relief at her words. He would have agreed to any condition at that moment if it meant seeing Y/N, even if it was just for a second.

"Yes... yes, please. I’ll stay in the wheelchair. I promise." He breathed, the frantic edge to his voice slowly easing into something softer, more hopeful.

Chris nodded gratefully at the doctor, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice thick. He turned to Matt, squeezing his brother’s shoulder. "Okay, Matt... just breathe, alright? We’re gonna see her."

The nurse quickly wheeled in a padded, adjustable wheelchair. Chris helped Matt shift carefully from the hospital bed into the seat, wincing with every grimace of pain that crossed Matt’s face. Matt tried to hide it, but his stiff movements and shallow breaths were enough to betray just how much he was still hurting. Once seated, Matt clutched the arms of the chair with white knuckles, willing his trembling legs to steady.

Chris crouched in front of him, locking eyes with Matt.

"Are you sure you’re good to go?" Chris asked softly, his voice laced with concern. "If you start to feel worse, we can turn back, okay?"

"No." Matt said quickly, shaking his head even though the motion made him dizzy. "I need to see her, Chris. I won’t... I can’t rest until I know she’s a-alive." His voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper now, but it carried a weight that cut Chris to his core.

The small entourage - Matt, Chris, the doctor, and a nurse - began their slow journey down the fluorescent-lit corridor. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, and the occasional sound of distant monitors and hushed conversations drifted from other rooms. Chris stayed beside the wheelchair, his hand on Matt’s shoulder the whole time, a steadying presence as they moved.

Matt’s heart was a wild drum in his chest, each turn of the hallway only ratcheting up his anxiety. He felt like he was caught in a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from, the fear that he might find Y/N still and lifeless on a hospital bed eating away at him.

Finally, they stopped outside a door marked with Y/N’s name on a small placard. Dr. Patel turned to Matt, giving him one last assessing look.

"Remember, just a few minutes." She reminded him gently. "She’s stable but still heavily sedated. It might be a while before she wakes up."

Matt nodded, barely hearing her as his eyes locked on the door. Chris leaned down to give his shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before opening it. The soft creak of the door seemed to echo through Matt’s mind, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet hallway.

As they wheeled him inside, Matt’s breath hitched. There she was, his Y/N, lying so still in the bed, surrounded by machines that beeped and hummed softly, tubes and wires connected to her fragile form. Her face was pale, bandaged in places, and her chest rose and fell in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. But she was breathing. She was alive.

Before his eyes could drink in every detail of her condition, his attention was pulled to another figure in the room.

Nick.

Nick’s head shot up at the sound of the door, his eyes widening in surprise. Relief washed over his face, softening the lines of exhaustion and worry that had been etched there. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his hair disheveled, eyes red-rimmed.

"Matt." Nick breathed, his voice trembling with emotion.

He quickly crossed the room in a few long strides, his eyes scanning his brother’s face like he couldn’t quite believe he was awake and here in front of him. Without a word, he dropped to his knees beside the wheelchair, wrapping his arms around Matt in a tight, desperate hug.

"Oh God, Matt." Nick’s voice cracked as he held on tight, as though letting go would make this moment disappear. "I thought we lost you... I thought..."

Matt weakly lifted one arm, patting his brother’s back as best as he could manage.

"I’m okay." He whispered hoarsely, though the pain in his body begged to differ. "I’m here, Nick... I’m here."

Nick pulled back, his eyes shining with tears, but he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand.

"You have no idea how scared we were, Matt... but God, I’m so glad you’re awake."

Chris, standing close by, put a comforting hand on Nick’s shoulder, giving him a small, reassuring squeeze.

"He’s okay, Nick. We’re okay." Chris murmured, nodding assuredly.

The doctor and nurse patiently waited for the brothers to have their moment before gently nudging the wheelchair forward.

"Let’s get you closer to her, Matt." Dr. Patel said softly.

As they wheeled Matt to Y/N’s bedside, all the noise of the hospital seemed to fade away. All he could hear was the soft, steady beep of the machines monitoring her vitals.

Matt’s eyes welled up with tears as he took in her pale face, the bruises peeking out from under the bandages on her forehead and the soft rise and fall of her chest.

He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against hers. Her skin was cool to the touch, and a sob tore through him. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, bringing her hand to his lips. He kissed her knuckles softly, over and over again, his lips lingering on every bruise and scrape he could see.

"I’m so sorry." He whispered, his voice raw with anguish. "I’m so, so sorry, my love. Please... please forgive me. I love you so much, Y/N. I need you. You have to wake up soon. Please."

He kept pressing gentle kisses to her hand, his tears slipping down and wetting her skin. His heart ached in ways he never thought possible, the guilt eating him alive. This was his fault. If only he had been more careful...

Nick watched silently, his own eyes filled with tears, and Chris had to turn away for a moment, pressing a fist to his mouth to stifle a sob. The sight of their brother - usually so composed - completely broken over the woman he loved was almost too much to bear.

Finally, Matt’s strength gave out. His body, already weakened and worn from the medication, was quickly reaching its limit. He slowly leaned forward, resting his head gently on the edge of Y/N’s bed, his cheek pressed close to her hip. He stayed there, clinging to her like she was his lifeline, his breaths coming in soft gasps as he struggled to stay conscious.

"I’m here, Y/N... I’m right here." He whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "I won’t leave you... I promise."

The pain was slowly fading, his body seeming to finally allow the medication to work its way through his system. Matt’s eyes grew heavier, his body sagging with exhaustion. But he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to stay with her, to watch over her, to be there when she finally opened her eyes.

Dr. Patel watched him with a soft, sympathetic gaze. She could see how much this was costing him, but she also understood that this was what he needed.

"We’ll let him stay for a little longer." She said quietly to Chris and Nick, who both nodded gratefully. "But you must agree that, if anything changes, if he starts showing signs of distress, you call for me immediately.”

"We will." Chris promised, his voice low and earnest. Nick nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving Matt.

With that, the doctor and nurse quietly exited the room, leaving the three brothers alone with Y/N. The room was dim and quiet. The only sound was the soft beeping of the monitors and the occasional muffled sniffle from Nick or Chris.

Matt finally let the exhaustion pull him under, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a fitful sleep. His fingers were still wrapped loosely around Y/N’s hand, and his head rested against her side as if he could protect her even in his sleep.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Several hours passed in quiet vigil. Chris and Nick stayed sat on the small couch by the wall, watching over Matt and Y/N like silent guardians, their hearts heavy with worry but relieved that, for now, their family was still holding on.

As the soft light of dawn began to creep through the tiny window in Y/N’s room, there was a faint stirring.

The world around her was a hazy blur, everything out of focus and spinning, like she was caught in a dream she couldn’t quite wake up from. There were distant beeps and muffled voices, but they all seemed so far away, like she was listening from underwater.

A faint, familiar smell flooded her nose. Matt. Or is it Nick? It was something like strawberries or maybe coconut. She couldn’t tell, but it was comforting enough. She tried to move, to lift her heavy eyelids, but her entire body felt like it was weighed down by an invisible force.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N finally managed to blink her eyes open, the harsh bright lights above her making her squint. The ceiling was white and sterile, and as her vision adjusted, she could make out the faint sounds of machines beeping rhythmically around her. Her mind was foggy, like a thick cloud had settled over her thoughts, and it took her a moment to realize where she was.

A hospital. She could feel something tight around her ribs, a dull, throbbing pain in her head, and an odd numbness throughout her limbs that made it difficult to move. Her throat was dry, like sandpaper, and when she tried to swallow, it sent a sharp ache down to her chest.

Panic started to bubble up in her chest, her heart rate quickening as fragmented memories began to resurface - the blaring headlights, the screech of tires, and the sudden, jarring impact that had stolen her breath away. She let out a small, pained whine, her chest tightening as she tried to remember more, but it was all so blurry, so confusing.

A voice cut through the haze, it sounded quiet but rough, like it had been scraped raw.

"Y/N? Hey, it’s okay... you’re okay."

She turned her head slowly, every movement feeling like she was wading through thick mud. The face that came into focus was familiar, a face that brought her the feeling of home amidst the confusion.

Nick.

Y/N’s eyes blinked slowly, struggling to focus on the two faces in front of her. She was still groggy, the world around her hazy, but the concerned expressions of Chris and Nick gradually came into focus. Her brows furrowed slightly, confusion clouding her tired gaze.

"N-Nick...? Chris...?" She mumbled, her voice rough and barely audible. Her throat was parched, every word scraping against the dryness.

Nick let out a shaky laugh, tears gathering in his eyes.

"Oh my god, I was so... I'm so glad you're back." He whispered, his voice breaking with a mixture of relief and emotion. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face.

Chris nodded, his face lighting up with the first real smile in what felt like an eternity.

"We’ve been really worried about you, Y/N." He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re a fighter, you know that?"

Y/N tried to smile, but even that felt like lifting a mountain.

"What... what happened?" She asked, her voice weak, her words slurred from the medication and anesthesia coursing through her veins. "I... I remember the crash. I remember..." She trailed off as she recalled the moment of impact, the way everything had gone black in an instant. "It all happened so fast."

Nick’s eyes filled with tears, and he traveled his hand from her hair to her shoulder, squeezing the covered skin tightly.

"It was... it was really bad. But you are here now, okay? You made it through the surgery. You’re safe."

"Surgery?" The word sent a chill down her spine. She tried to remember, but everything after the crash was a blur. "What... what happened to me?" She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Nick took a shaky breath, his grip on her tightening as if he needed the contact to ground himself before connecting his eyes with Chris's, begging for him to answer her.

"You had internal bleeding caused by some broken ribs." Chris explained gently, cleaning his throat to disguise the emotion in his voice. "You’ve been out for at least 15 hours after a four-hour surgery. And... and you hit your head really hard. But the doctors said the surgery was a success, and your concussion is mild. You’re going to be okay."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, the reality of it all crashing down on her. Surgery. Internal bleeding. The thought of how close she’d come to... She couldn’t finish the thought, the fear overwhelming her.

"Where... where’s Matt? Is he okay? Oh god, he was driving-"

Chris’s eyes softened, and he exchanged a glance with Nick.

"He’s right here, Y/N." Chris reassured her gently, pointing towards Matt's figure with his head.

Y/N’s gaze flickered downward, and her breath hitched when she finally registered for the first time Matt slumped over on the edge of her hospital bed, his head resting beside her hip. His brown hair was disheveled, and his face looked paler than she had ever seen, decorated with a variety of bruises and cuts, but he was breathing, his chest rising and falling steadily.

It was then that she noticed the weight of his fingers against hers, holding her hand firmly as if she could disappear at any moment.

"He’s been by your side from the minute he woke up..."

The sound of the boy's voice, combined with the familiar touch of his girlfriend, pulled Matt from the depths of his medication-induced sleep. His eyelids fluttered, a groggy groan escaping his lips as he slowly stirred awake. For a moment, he looked confused, his eyes unfocused as he blinked against the harsh lights.

But then, as his gaze settled on Y/N’s face, now wide awake and staring back at him with teary eyes, everything clicked into place. His heart leaped in his chest, and any remaining fog of sleep vanished instantly.

"Y/N?" He croaked, his voice raw with disbelief. His eyes widened as he looked at her, truly seeing her awake for the first time. "Oh my god... you’re... you're awake."

Y/N managed a weak smile, tears gathering in her eyes as well.

"Hey, baby. I'm here." She whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You look like you’ve been through hell."

Matt let out a choked laugh, a mix of relief and joy bubbling up inside him. He quickly pulled himself closer to her, his hands shaking as he reached for her face, brushing his thumb tenderly over her bruised cheek.

"I thought... I thought I had lost you." He confessed, his voice breaking. "God, Y/N, I was so scared. I... I couldn’t-" His words were cut off by a sob he couldn’t contain, and he buried his face in her neck, pressing desperate kisses to her exposed skin, his curls tickling her chin in a grounding way.

Y/N’s heart ached at the sight and feeling of him so broken. With what little strength she had, she squeezed his fingers, trying to comfort him.

"I’m here, Matt." She whispered. "We’re okay. You don’t have to worry anymore."

Matt shook his head, his tears soaking her neck.

"I’m so, so sorry." He choked out between sobs. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve protected you... I couldn't even-"

Y/N’s brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to process his words. She lifted a trembling hand to stroke his messy hair, trying to calm him down.

"Matt, baby, hey... where's this coming from?" She asked, her voice soft and full of concern as her eyes traveled momentarily to Chris and Nick, searching for an answer in them that they didn’t seem to have.

Matt just kept shaking his head, his sobs growing louder, muffled by her skin.

"It’s my fault... it’s all my fault." He whispered, his voice breaking. "I should’ve seen the car... I should’ve done something... God, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. I'm really, really sorry..."

Y/N’s confusion turned to anger as she realized what he was saying.

"Matt, look at me." She demanded, her voice suddenly stronger despite her weakened state.

He slowly lifted his tear-streaked face from her shoulder to meet her gaze momentarily, his eyes red and puffy.

"How can you blame yourself?" She asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You... Matt, there was nothing you could’ve done. A crazy driver was coming to our direction. You didn’t cause this."

"But... but I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve done more." Matt insisted, his voice cracking terribly. He couldn’t meet her eyes for more than a second, ashamed of the guilt that had consumed him. "You got hurt because of me... I should be the one lying in there, not you."

"Don't you dare say something like that, Matthew." Y/N said firmly, her fingers gripping his hand as tightly as she could manage. "Listen to me. It was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done to stop it." She let out a shaky breath, her eyes softening as her free hand traveled to his face, softly brushing away the tears from his cheeks. "I’m okay, Matt... because of you. You were there. You kept me safe until help came."

Her words only made Matt’s tears flow harder, dripping directly where her fingers met his skin, his sobs causing his body to tremble and his ribs to ache, but there was a shift in his eyes, a flicker of something like relief. He didn’t fully believe her, but hearing her say it, seeing the sincerity in her expression, it was like a balm to his raw, bleeding heart.

"You did everything you could, baby. You saved my life. If it wasn’t for you..." Y/N couldn’t even finish the sentence; the thought was too painful to bear. To lose a life with the love of her existence.

Matt sniffled, pressing the side of his face against her palm and wiping the other side of it with the back of his hand, still holding on to Y/N like she was the only thing keeping him afloat.

Nick and Chris watched the whole scene unfold in silence, their hearts heavy with the raw emotions in the room. Chris discreetly wiped away a tear while Nick stood there, his arms crossed over his chest as if trying to hold himself together.

"I love you so much." Matt whispered, nuzzling against her hand. "I can't even picture a life without you."

"I love you too, Matt." Y/N murmured back, her fingers weakly squeezing his. "But you don’t have to picture anything. I’m right here."

Matt let out a shaky breath, nodding.

"Now, why don't the both of you rest a little bit more?" Nick's voice seemed to remind them of the brother's presence. "It will do good for your healing process." Y/N's eyes lifted to the oldest momentarily before nodding slowly.

As the room settled into a comfortable silence, Matt gently laid his head back down on the bed, still holding Y/N’s hand as if it was his lifeline. Y/N stroked his hair softly, her heart aching with love and relief.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they could finally breathe. They were together, alive, and that was all that mattered.

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gurugirl · 4 months ago

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Says Who? | demonrry

Summary: Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.

A/N: Something filthy and fun for Halloween! Not really scary, mostly just a smutty thing!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warning: smut, filth, spitting, major MAJOR size kink, creampie, unprotected public sex, Harry's a demon (or maybe he's just a dick - you choose)

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Y/n could feel the base vibrating through to her marrow. The whole club was alive, a sticky hot sea of sweaty, dancing bodies, strobing lights, god-awful costumes.

She was less concerned about her white angel wings getting dirtied than she was about her drink getting something tossed into it. Some of the people making eye contact with her were… she didn’t know, but perhaps she’d keep her distance.

Though, as she looked down into her plastic cup, she realized it was all but pink melted ice. If she wanted something to worry about (other than her delicate white wings) she’d need a refill.

She figured she put a little too much effort into her costume. Her angel wings were made of real feathers and lace, lined with ribbing to make them look real, and her gauzy smock dress left little to the imagination for what she wore under. Of course, she doused herself in a healthy amount of soft shimmer and glitter and attempted to do the perfect winged liner –it wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn near close.

She'd gone alone to the club. A maybe not-so-smart move in retrospect, but still. She was there and she wanted to do something she'd never done before. Something outside of her comfort zone. Maybe even a little dangerous for once in her life.

The bar was packed with bodies, all lined up for a drink. Y/n waved her arm in the air, hoping to get the attention of the lone bartender. The poor guy was running his ass off and she could see sweat stains under his arms. It was rather stifling in the building.

Suddenly a very warm hand was pressed into her back, hot palm burning through the thin fabric of her dress down to her skin, “You don’t need another drink, Y/n.”

Turning to her right she saw a man with an imposing stature standing over her, his massive mitt cradling his own cup as he looked down at her, green irises practically glowing.

“Says who? I’ve only had one anyway. And how do you know my name?”

The grin that stretched over his face caught her off guard. He was handsome. She let her eyes wander from his broad shoulders up his neck and to the top of his head. He had thick dark waves with small pointed horns sticking out of the top just so. They looked real. The devil. How fitting a costume for a man who looked like that.

“Your name is printed on your cup,” he pointed. Y/n had forgotten that everyone was given a cup upon entry, their name scrawled across the smooth plastic, and told not to lose it. It was one of those underground club events and the cup was like your ticket to get in once you'd passed the initial pay-to-enter area.

She laughed and smiled, “Oh, I forgot,” she looked down at his cup again, noticing large rings adorning his thick fingers, “Harry.”

“What’s an angel doing in a place like this anyway?”

Another laugh puffed from behind her lips before she used her tongue to wet her parched mouth, “It’s a club. I don’t know. Saw an ad and it sounded fun. Why? Should I be worried?” Y/n bit her lip for effect. She wasn’t worried. But she did like this man’s vibe. He was flirty without being overt, his warm hand still sprawled along her back, face dangerously close.

“You should be worried. This is not a safe place, Y/n,” an evil smile worked its way over his features. He was teasing. Or maybe he wasn't.

She shrugged and looked up at him through her lashes before releasing her bottom lip, “But you’re here,” she looked back over her shoulder at the wild crowd behind them, “You gonna keep me safe from all the bad guys?”

“Is the angel asking the devil to watch over her tonight?” His grin grew lopsided, a dimple digging into his skin. God, he was attractive.

“Maybe. But you won’t let me get another drink so I don’t know…”

His eyes scraped over her face and down to her angel outfit, auditing, before he pushed into her back, moving her toward him closer. She watched him sit his cup down on the syrup-smeared bartop before his hand found her jaw, fingers digging into the soft part under her mandible, “Oh you’re parched, are you? Open up for me, angel.”

She felt her body swell and seethe in heat from his bold ask. But what else was she there for that night but to have a little fun with a stranger? So she parted her lips, slowly opening wider as he dipped over her frame and tilted her neck back until she felt the warm glob of saliva land on the tip of her tongue. She let out a pathetic moan when he licked over her lips, his spit moistening the dry skin like he was making sure she knew whose spit was sliding down her throat.

“Did you swallow for me?” He asked cooly as he kept her jaw in his hand.

Knocking her head up and down she kept her eyes on his and then suddenly she was being pulled away from the bar. He had an arm tucked around her waist, keeping her next to his warm frame until they’d moved into the shadowy edges of the club and he prodded her into a small space between a column and a metal air duct before he was pushing his hips and mouth against hers.

He tasted like autumn outdoors, hay, spit, burning leaves… Running her fingers into his hair she felt his hand on her hip, bunching at the sheer fabric until he was reaching into the thin wispy lace of the top of her white panties, palm gliding down her belly button until the pads of his fingers were pressed in a place she would normally never let a stranger touch. Especially not in public.

But it was Halloween, and this was what she’d been looking for. Something a little dangerous, a little crazy. This was the kind of place where one could get away with such iniquities.

Soon, the only thirst that remained was to feel more of him. To feel his hands, his fingers… He smoothed his tongue against hers as his middle finger rubbed tightly over her exposed clit after he'd torn the delicate fabric of her underwear. She was throbbing against him. Wetting his digits slowly until it was slippery and he could easily slide one and then two inside of her cunt.

“Love when I make angels wet. You’re just a good girl but this is exactly what you were looking for, wasn't it?”

She moaned and yanked his hair, hoping he’d put his lips back against hers. She loved his mouth, loved how he kissed her all dirty and raw.

“Yes…” She blinked up at him and then gasped when he shoved a third fat finger inside of her hole. It made her wobble forward into him, her cheek pressed into his solid chest. He fucked her just like that, on his fingers as he kept whispering into her ear, “Gonna change your life tonight angel. Show you what it feels like to really get off.”

Her mouth was wide open as he slid his fingers so deep she was certain nothing had ever gone in like that before. Not even Donny’s hard prick felt like that (what a disappointment he had been).

“Can’t even stand up straight and that’s just my fingers in there little girl. What are you gonna do when it’s my cock splitting you in half, hm?”

She groaned as he continued pumping his fingers through her gummy insides and she gripped onto his biceps so she didn't simply wither to the floor.

Y/n didn’t want anyone to see what was happening but it felt so good and she was so close. Already. The heel of his palm was bumping, sliding into her clit with every thrust of his wrist and she swore he was fucking into her to the beat of the bassy electronic music.

Her head began to spin and her ears were ringing, muffling the noise of the crowd and the music when she felt the delicious release of her orgasm.

Harry pushed her back into the wall quickly when he felt her shaking and with his free hand he held her face, smushing her cheeks with his thumb at one side and his pointer finger on the other, “Look at me when you come. Your orgasm belongs to me. Fuck that’s so pretty…”

She was stunned. It felt so good. Her body was writhing and being pushed and pulled at the hulking man’s direction. He guided her through it, plunging his fingers inside of her and dragging them over her slick spongy spot at the front of her wall. It was like he’d found a hidden switch within her insides and turned it on for her.

“You gonna keep being a good girl for me? Let me claim you and fuck an orgasm out of you on my cock this time? Want that, angel?”

Y/n’s rationale had gone out the window the moment he spit into her mouth and licked over her lips at the bar. So she nodded as he pulled his fingers from her cunt and brought all three, slimy, coated in her arousal, up to her lips, “Open up that thirsty little mouth. Suck.”

She wrapped her lips around his fingers and he pushed them past her comfortable gag spot as he made haste with his other hand, undoing his pants before pulling out his dick.

Harry removed his hand from her mouth and pulled at her neck, "Take a look. Think it'll feel nice and snug inside that tiny little angel pussy?"

Y/n shifted her eyes down to the hot engorged dick the man had brushing against her, his tip wide and ruddy against her labia. She inhaled, looking up at the man and then back down at the size of him, "It's… I don't know… It's so…" She bucked into him, feeling unsteady, her thighs still shaking.

"At least twice as big as what you've played with before. I know. But you get used to it. Come to love it. The way it plugs in so deep, carves into your insides, and makes a nice wet home… No one ever forgets it."

She clutched his forearm with a shaky hand and used her other to reach down and touch him. He was hot. So much warmer than she expected. Peering around his broad shoulders she could see people grinding and doing ungodly things on the dancefloor already. There were no rules in that club, except to not lose the cup you were handed when you paid to enter, and she'd already lost that at the bar somewhere.

When she felt him grip tight the meat of her thigh and perch it over his hip he slid his cockhead to her dripping seam and began to dip in.

"Oohh…" she warbled out a moan and then looked up at his handsome face, "Mmm…"

"Open that pretty mouth, show me your tongue."

She did what he said, parting her lips as her pussy spread open little by little. The feel of him slowly pushing into her was sticky, gooey, sharp. But the warm spit that dripped onto her tongue was salacious, made her pussy throb and flutter around his girth.

"There we go. Get that pussy spread apart for me. Let me have you, angel."

She was already letting him have her. She was his… whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. Right in front of everyone… sloppy, wet, deranged, disgusting…

"Mm ahhh…" she panted, her brows pushed together as he rutted in and in, filling up every bit of empty space she had available. Split open, stuffed full, slippery hot debauchery.

Harry threw his head back for a moment, basking in the tight pussy wrapped around him. Sopping. It was his chance to feel a bit of heaven.

Reaching down for her other thigh, he pushed her up and lifted her, making her wrap her legs around his waist so he could work into her deeper, really give her a taste of what the devil could do.

She yelped and gurgled wetly, eyes bulging as he buried himself in, "Fuck…"

"Yeah? Didn't know angels liked to say such words." He swiveled his hips, a harsh plunge in again, and the squelch of her pussy against his length meant she was as wet as she could possibly be. "Oh you're soaked, angel. No wonder you're so thirsty. All your juices are down here," He rocked up into her and she cried out, "So you can take me properly."

While no one much cared about the angel with her wings pressed into the wall, her legs wrapped around the devil's waist as he stuffed her pussy with his big cock, it was obvious what was going on in that dark little corner every time the strobe flashed over the pair copulating. If the look on her pretty face didn't give it away, all fucked out, wet lips parted, eyes rolling back into her head… it was the way the devil was rocking his hips sharply against her, making her legs shake with every thrust.

He knew he was hollowing her out, poking in beyond what was comfortable for her… he knew she'd never forget the way he felt inside of her. It'd stick with her forever and she'd never be able to come again without thinking about the devil.

She'd masturbate thinking about that night at the club and she'd release with the image of him inside of her. And any poor man who stuck his rinky dinky human dick into her pussy would never get her off –she'd be thinking of Harry, the demon with the biggest cock she'd ever had. That would be the only way she'd ever be able to come. A curse, but also a blessing because now she'd always be able to get off to the memory of him no matter who was fucking her. Everyone else would pale in comparison… but that's what he loved so much about fucking sweet human girls. They never forgot his big cock and he owned them in a way. At least he owned their orgasms.

Slushy, gloopy, splatting… his long dick dragged and kissed against her sweetest spot and she felt the tingle and the ache of it as she bounced with every drive of his hips.

"Give me that come, angel. Right on my cock."

She inhaled sharply as he laved his tongue over her lips, slicking his saliva over her mouth and spitting onto her tongue again, "Mine. It's all mine, isn't it? Cunt will never feel it like this again but she'll remember who owns her won't she?"

Y/n was simply done for… her body was putty, molten liquid, dripping, bowing to his whim. His cock would be forever imprinted within her womb as she felt him slide through her channel, thick and throbbing - it was as if she could feel his bulbous cockhead pushing into her tummy, bulging at the front. Microscopic tears around her gaping, wet, stretched muscle she'd need to tend to later. All worth it to be fucked like that.

Her eyes were bleary as she looked at him when she began to come. He was right and she knew it. Her body would never forget it. She was ruined for him already as her vocal cords hitched up an octave and she made his favorite noise. Every dip of his broad crown through her gushing walls smeared his leaking slit against her cervix.

Harry watched the angel fall apart around his cock, face crumpled, body reveling in her release, toes curled in her shoes, but when she moaned his name and gazed into his eyes with droopy lids he couldn't hold back the way she was milking around him. He slammed into her, one brutal thrust, cock burrowing in as he splattered and pumped into her. His warm spend, a mucusy mural for her tight little wet walls. Like his signature left behind so anyone else who entered would know he'd been there. That everything inside of her cunt belonged to him because he'd already claimed it…

She'd think about all that later. That she'd had unprotected sex with a stranger at a club. That he'd filled her with his sperm and spit into her mouth. She'd get tested and watch for her period and then get tested again. And when she turned out clean and not pregnant part of her would be disappointed that she didn't have some excuse to search for the man to let him know what he'd done so she could do it all over again with him. Get her brains fucked out and her little pussy stretched in a way that shouldn't have been as good as it was.

But she wouldn't regret that part. Her only rue that night would be that she hadn't gotten his last name or maybe a number. It was probably better to not know who he was, though. Because if she did she'd obsess. She'd fiend. She'd pine. She'd stalk. She'd make a fool of herself to just have another taste. And a guy like him would probably already be onto the next.

It was better to not know who he was because he wasn't really nice. When he was finished with her, when his come was fucked into her and he made her watch how he shoved it all back in with his huge cock, gripped her neck, and made her look at the way it dripped from her puffy, used pussy and how he took his dick and pressed it back into her stinging hole and told her to not to clean herself up –he left. He dropped her down to her feet, tucked his big cock back into his pants, patted her hot little cheek, and walked off without even turning back to look or check on her.

She watched him disappear into the crowd with her torn panties at her hips and his come dripping down the inside of her legs, chest heaving, heart thrashing in her chest… Her back and her legs and her pussy ached but she'd have him again if he just came back. So, it was better to not know.

It was better to not know because maybe he actually was the devil.

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 27 days ago

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Malleus Draconia: Made Up

… Why does Malleus continue to have some of the most “hey are u lost bbg” facial expressions + poses ever on his initial birthday card artworks… 💀

He really looks like his mom when his hair is all pinned back like in his alt and Groovy look. xbjsbsjww The makeup products he’s using… They look like Giorgio Armani 💰

Rise and Shine!

Humans were blessed with two hands with which to do all of their work. Malleus Draconia had no need for either of his.

Lipstick, liquid eyeshadow, and finishing powder lifted into the air, glowing an eerie green. They uncapped and began applying themselves, gliding easily across his lips, painting his lids, and patting down his pale skin. Already, a cloth was busy polishing his horns, and a brush ran through his hair. A mirror, magically suspended before him, displayed his regal visage--a work of art slowly coming into its peak form.

You had heard Scarabia's vice dorm leader mention that he used magic to do his hair--a complex, precise process--but had never in your life witnessed a show like this. You clapped for Malleus, as if a spectator that had just seen a most wonderous trick.

He cut you a curious look. "May I ask why the applause, child of man?"

"It's just so cool seeing you use your magic," you replied truthfully. "There's so many things happening at once, it's hard to know where to keep my eyes. You're really amazing!"

There was a sound akin to a stifled chortle. These, you had grown accustomed to.

"You never cease to surprise. This is but a modicum of what I am capable of." He almost seemed to pout as he said it, as if itching to demonstrate the full extent of his powers. Wanting praise for something more.

"Oh, trust me. I know you are--but it's nice to see the Malleus Draconia using his magic to do normal, everyday stuff too." You grinned, ducking behind him to peek into his mirror. Your gazes met in the sparkling glass. "I wish everyone could see this."

"It is hardly a matter of importance to share the details of my morning routine with the masses. Besides, Grandmother would no doubt grant me a thorough scolding for allowing myself to be seen in such an improper state.”

He yawned, and a hand moved to cover his mouth, where you caught a glimpse of pointed canines. A rare moment of cuteness, of vulnerability. A side of himself kept private. Such a mundane thing--it reminded you that he, too, was but a student, preparing to tackle another day.

"Maybe not, but then again… maybe they'd see what I see too."

You quirked a brow. "And what is it that you see?"

"That you're not as scary as whatever scary made-up version of yourself they have in their heads. It's not all doom and gloom, wrath and lightning. You're someone that laughs and cries too."

"... Do they have that impression of me?" Malleus brought a hand to his chin. "Odd. When I last conversed with a peer of mine, they were so elated to be in my presence that they fainted on the spot. Lilia commended me for making such a strong impression on them."

"Erm... Lilia might not be the best judge for that." You poked at the corners of your mouth. "You have a nice smile, so how about showing it more? That might draw people to you."

"Hmmm. Like this, perhaps?"

He attempted to imitate you. The result was an awkward facsimile of your smile. Not quite the same curve, and with the tips of his fangs poking out. His eyes, still ominous.

Clumsy, but a little dangerous.

Your heart sprouted wings and fluttered. “It’s a good start! You’ll get the hang of it with more practice.”

Malleus sighed, and at once, the items that had been hovering around him collapsed along with his breath. “This is a conundrum. As a public figure and representative of my country, it’s imperative that I maintain my reputation.”

The fluttering in your chest settled like a stone sinking into the bottom of a lake. A sudden weight, a sadness, sitting in your stomach. He cut a gallant figure--but without the fairy lights and fire, he was but a pitiful creature trapped within stone walls.

Lonely and misunderstood.

Without a word, you slipped a hand into his. Malleus felt cold to the touch, like some long-forgotten relic dug up from some ruins.

His eyes shot wide open with alarm. "What are you..."

"Let's walk to class like this," you suggested softly. "I know you wouldn't harm me. If everyone else can see that... they'd understand, right?"

Shock flooded Malleus's face. Then, like a flash of lightning and a fleeting bellow of thunder, it was over, replaced by the faintest chuckle.

"... Very well." He squeezed your hand, the motion sending sparks of electricity through you. "I would not be opposed to this. If they are to weave tall tales, then all we must do is flip the script and write a story of our own to combat theirs."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Reader #self insert #Malleus birthday takeover #jp spoilers #something no one asked for #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios

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obsessivevoidkitten · 6 months ago

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Throwback

Male Triceratops Hybrid Alpha Yandere x Gender Neutral Capybara Hybrid Omega Reader

CW: Noncon, painful to pleasureable sex, mild violence (not towards reader), time travel, sexism, breeding, impregnation, pheromones, a/b/o, musk, scent marking, scent kink, sucking on dem big man titters, biting, bite marking, claiming, exceptionally huge dick, reader inflated with copious cum, knotting

Word Count: 1.9k

(Sometimes I get stuck on WIPs and have to do something new to write again. I wrote this in two days. Hope y'all like it! Please feed me with comments ❤️)

You were an omega demi-human. Part capybara, though the only evidence of this was your soft ears. More importantly, you were a quantum physicist. Currently, you were studying and recreating what you thought to be a time travel device. Your thoughts and theories had been dismissed entirely by your peers. It didn't help at all that you were an omega. Omegas working in academia were almost universally harassed, derided, and treated with condescension. As if their omega brains couldn't work at the same level as betas and alphas.

But even if it wasn't some type of device for traveling through time it was certainly alien to the time period from which it originated. It was made of advanced alloys and components that had been flattened, buried, and heavily corroded over time. The rock in which it was embedded in was older than any ancient society.

You had been working on manufacturing a functional copy of the artifact for years. Shmoozing up eccentric rich fucks, getting help from the exceedingly few colleagues who would help you in any way, slowly analyzing every detail and carefully bringing it all together. And at long last it was complete. The zenith of your career was at hand. And after some cautious testing that you conducted privately, it was ready to show to others.

You managed to get a spot at a small conference, though you had lied about the subject on which you would be speaking, and by the time it was your turn most of the audience had left. Not many academics cared what an omega had to say. Let alone one with a reputation for being a crackpot. But there were still enough of your fellow scientists and this would all be on video.

Instead of introducing the topic of your presentation, which would be a surefire way to lose what people were still watching, you opted for wheeling out your machine onto the stage and stepping in. With a deep breath, you booted it up and the entire contraption disappeared with a flash.

When you exited the machine there was an immediate problem. You stepped out of the machine into a forest with giant trees and flowers. You had only intended to go back a minute to when your presentation started but had made an error. You turned around to step back in but something pulled you backwards by your rear. You fell back and saw before you a humongous man charging at your time machine. He wore only a ragged fur loincloth and swung a massive club. He looked human except for his size, thick tail, scaled arms, and three horns on his head. One large horn from each temple and a small one extending from my nose.

You looked on in horror as he swung a mighty club down upon your only way back to your own time, repeatedly smashing it down until it resembled the exact shape of the artifact that had been excavated in your time. The relic that you had fashioned your own machine after. That wasn't what your attention was on, however. You were much more focused on getting away from the raging beast of a man who could flatten metal so easily.

Though with his task of destroying the frightening affront to nature that had appeared from nowhere now complete, he turned his attention to you. He shouted at you in a language you didn't understand, though his intent was clear. He had a massive erection sticking out from his loincloth and aggressively sniffing at your neck after picking you up with unexpected care.

With exertion of great willpower, the trike-man managed to not breed you silly right there in the forest. Your pheromones were driving him nearly feral. Modern-day omega pheromones were many times more potent than any prehistoric omega. They had evolved through millennia to pique the interest of choosy alphas despite the steep competition, an evolutionary arms race to try to snag an alpha.

That wasn't the only appealing trait. You were exotic, had cute little furry ears on your head, and you were so small, couldn't fight back and act all defiant like the omegas from his time.

You did struggle though. You had seen his arousal and could still smell it. Almost anything would be better than being violated in such a manner by such a hulking brute. He chuckled at your struggles, they were successful only in tiring you out. On the long way to his lair, between your squirming, kicking, and punching, you had gathered that his name was Orryg. At least you thought it was. He did not speak English, but he gestured at himself and seemed to be trying to give you his name.

He found your struggles kinda cute, mistaking them for an eagerness to escape his grasp and get on with taking his cock already. Omegas were so silly.

"Don't worry. Going to breed you plenty. Better in a secluded place."

You had no idea what he said, but his voice was deep and sounded angry so you could only assume it was something in annoyance at your struggles so you went limp. The giant man could snap you like a twig if he wanted to, best not to make him too upset. And honestly, even if you did escape, where the fuck would you go? What if Orryg wasn't the worst thing prowling about in the time period?

The walk went on for a while, with Orryg giving you an occasional lick or mumbling out some words you didn't have any hope of understanding. After a fair amount of time, Orryg stopped to sniff the air. Suddenly there was a roar from behind.

Orryg turned the two of you around just in time for him to take his club and smack it into a man who was every bit as huge as he was. Swatting him away easily despite being similar in size and build.

This one had sharp teeth and clawed fingers. He spat blood and growled. Orryg regarded him with a scowl.

"Udvik! You know this is trike territory!!"

"Omega smells good, not claimed yet. Thought I'd try..."

"Go before I smash you! This is MINE!"

Udvik spat again and hobbled off. But your suspicions had been confirmed, there were definitely things other than Orryg to be worried about in this time period. You were pretty shaken up seeing a half-dino man jumping at you and watching your captor fight him off. With those teeth it had clearly been no herbivore, it probably would have slaughtered you. Your fear must have been evident in your scent because Orryg held you tighter and nuzzled you.

"That battle got my blood flowing, really need to fuck you. Sorry if it scared you, I'll breed you all better. Almost home."

You continued to have zero idea what the hell he was saying. But you figured with the nuzzling it was something comforting. Though your ability to figure anything out was pretty absent by this point. Your brain was soup. All the anxiety and adrenaline and alpha pheromones had finally gotten to you. You looked at the ground in a stupor as he continued to carry you over his shoulder.

The next thing you were consciously aware of was him entering the cave with you and placing his club at the entrance. He laid down on a slab of stone covered in thick layers of soft furs and placed you on top of his muscled body. Before you had any chance to react he began administering attention to your sensitive neck. You squirmed involuntarily, writhing in pleasure on top of him from the neck stimulation alone.

If that wasn't enough, you were practically drowning in his musk. You had been since you entered his dwelling, the cave was saturated in it, but now he was forcing your head under his arm and making you drink it all in. Smearing your face with it and marking you with his smell. Slick was leaking out of your needy hole and pooling on his abs.

"I knew this would make you feel better."

The trance you were in was only partially broken once you felt the blunt head of his much too-large member press against your hole.

"W-wait! I don-"

But he had no idea what you were saying, and even if he did he knew you'd love his dick so much that you wouldn't protest for long. At this point, you were going to be his... no matter what.

You yelped in pain as he pressed into you, spreading you like none of your toys ever had. He swallowed your shout by pressing his mouth into yours, trying to distract you from the pain with a sloppy kiss before attending to your neck again. Despite every instinct telling him to just ram in and ravage you he restrained himself knowing that doing otherwise could seriously injure you.

"Ah!"

Even with his care it still hurt as he slowly eased his prick all the way into you, he rubbed the outline of his cock through your tummy. Lucky for you omegas were extremely stretchy and pliant.

Orryg slowly thrust back and forth inside you as he hungrily took in your scent. As more precum dribbled into you and mixed with your slick you took him easier and the pain slowly began to ebb away and was eventually replaced almost entirely by pleasure. You moaned softly into his chest as you bit at his pec and sucked his nipple while he kept digging his cock into you.

Your whole body shook and spasmed for a solid minute as you came more intensely than you ever had before. Orryg grunted as the feeling of your body convulsing around him brought him nearly to his climax. The trike man upped the pace just a bit, his heavy balls smacking into you before he started knotting inside you and pumping you full of his virile spunk. One small mercy was that his knot was only a bit thicker than the rest of his cock, not over two times as wide like a modern alpha.

The volume of semen was such that it made you look heavy with child, which you certainly would be after lovemaking like this.

Now that you had been well and truly fucked there was only one thing left for your brand new "husband" to do to really seal the deal. He, with great caution, buried his fangs into your neck to mark you permanently as his to everyone who might see you. Which would be more than you might expect. This was Orryg's outpost, he stayed there while on patrol, but he usually lived with his herd.

It would be a hard adjustment for you to make. You would constantly be under Orryg's watchful gaze or the guard of his tribemates when he went to go hunt or if he went to do things too dangerous for you to be with him. You'd never be alone. Even in the safety of the herd, Orryg would obsessively treat you like something fragile. You would have to adjust your diet to what they ate, mostly fruit and vegetables though they ate meat too, though nothing was familiar to you. You would have to slowly learn their language so you could eventually communicate with the new society that "adopted" you.

But it was okay if it took you a while to get settled, you had all the time in the world.

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